Inscribing Sorrow: Fourth-Century Attic Funerary Epigrams (Trends in Classics)

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Inscribing Sorrow: Fourth-Century Attic Funerary Epigrams

Christos C. Tsagalis

Walter de Gruyter

Christos C. Tsagalis Inscribing Sorrow: Fourth-Century Attic Funerary Epigrams

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Trends in Classics Supplementary Volumes Edited by Franco Montanari and Antonios Rengakos Scientific Committee Alberto Bernabe´ · Margarethe Billerbeck · Claude Calame Philip R. Hardie · Stephen J. Harrison · Stephen Hinds Richard Hunter · Christina Kraus · Giuseppe Mastromarco Gregory Nagy · Theodore D. Papanghelis · Giusto Picone Kurt Raaflaub · Bernhard Zimmermann

Volume 1

Walter de Gruyter · Berlin · New York

Inscribing Sorrow: Fourth-Century Attic Funerary Epigrams by

Christos C. Tsagalis

Walter de Gruyter · Berlin · New York

앝 Printed on acid-free paper which falls within the guidelines of the ANSI 앪 to ensure permanence and durability.

ISBN 978-3-11-020132-1 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available in the Internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de.

쑔 Copyright 2008 by Walter de Gruyter GmbH & Co. KG, D-10785 Berlin All rights reserved, including those of translation into foreign languages. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Printed in Germany Cover Design: Christopher Schneider, Berlin Printing and binding: Hubert & Co. GmbH & Co. KG, Göttingen

For Anna

Preface One of the most brilliant achievements of Hellenistic poetry is no doubt the emergence of the literary epigram. During the last years, important new discoveries (like the ‘New Posidippus’) and several groundbreaking publications have deepened our knowledge of Hellenistic epigrammatic collections and rekindled interest in one of the most fascinating genres of Greek poetry. On the other hand, inscribed epigram of the archaic and classical periods has not yet attracted from classical scholars the attention it deserves. While epigraphists have made significant progress in collecting, publishing and epigraphically studying all the relevant material, Hellenists have been, in general, rather reluctant to undertake long-scale research on inscribed epigram. This lack of interest has been generated by the nature of the material on which epigrams are preserved (which requires a fair amount of archaeological knowledge), the view that only in the Hellenistic period epigrams acquire features pertaining to ‘real’ poetry, and also that literariness and personal authorship, which are basically linked to epigrams belonging to the Hellenistic and Imperial periods, make non-inscribed epigrams much more interesting to study from a literary point of view. It is indeed a very positive sign that during the last years certain scholars have realised the need to link the history and development of inscribed epigram to that of its famous Hellenistic successor. To mention a recent example of this tendency, the editors (P. Bing and J. S. Bruss) of the Brill’s Companion to Hellenistic Epigram have devoted a fair number of chapters (more than half of the Companion’s first part) to inscribed epigram. Individual chapters studying the inscribed antecedents of Hellenistic epigram, the inscribed epigram in pre-Hellenistic literary sources, the Sylloge Simonidea, and the mutual influence between inscribed and literary epigram testify to the growing interest for exploring the inscriptional precursors of literary epigram as models for the blooming of this genre in the Hellenistic and Imperial periods. Fourth-century inscribed Attic epitaphs are centered on the private life of Athenian men and women, the impact of whose loss we can still hear as a distinct echo of a distant past. At the same time, the

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sheer size (162), geographical concentration (Attica), and chronological limitation (4th century BCE) of this corpus of grave epigrams allows for general observations concerning the transition from archaic and fifth-century classical epigram into the literary epigram of the Hellenistic period. In the course of my research I have incurred a fair number of professional and personal debts. In fact, I was fortunate enough to have benefited from the scientific expertise, thoughtful advice and generous feedback of a number of scholars. Yannis Tzifopoulos and Joseph Day have read an early draft of chapter one and have immensely helped me with their incisive criticism. Phil Mitsis has diligently read the entire manuscript and made considerable improvements on my English. David Sider and Doris Meyer have both brought to my attention important secondary literature. Sophia Aneziri has also discussed with me in detail CEG 594. Ewen Bowie has kindly shown me his own forthcoming contribution on narrative in archaic and classical inscribed epigram. I am profoundly indebted to Marco Fantuzzi who read the entire manuscript, made acute observations and with his brilliant insights and balanced criticism saved me from some misleading comments and arguments. He also provided me with fascinating forthcoming work of his, of which the one on variation in inscriptional epigram was of special importance for my research. Angelos Matthaiou was the one who initially suggested this topic to me, arguing strongly and convincingly about the need for classical scholars to explore the area of pre-Hellenistic inscribed epigrams. Moreover, he was the one who helped a classicist like me familiarize himself with Greek Epigraphy. I would also like to express my deep gratitude to Franco Montanari and Antonios Rengakos for accepting my work in their new series Trends in Classics. Last but not least, I would like to thank a number of institutions and libraries that have facilitated and stimulated my research. The American School of Classical Studies at Athens unfailingly proved a safe heaven for my research. Its fine facilities provided a stimulating atmosphere, and its congenial staff, especially Ben Mills and Maria Tourna, were always eager to help in matters bibliographical and other. This important institution with its unique collection of literary, epigraphical, and archaeological material is one of the most ideal places for the undertaking of advanced research in almost any subfield concerning Greek antiquity. I am also deeply indebted to the Center for Hellenic Studies and its Director Greg Nagy for offering me a Summer Fellowship (2002). Despite my brief stay at the Center, I was able to gather some important material for my research without un-

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due difficulty. Further thanks are due to the Head Librarian of the Classics Library of the University of Athens Mrs Argyro Frantzi, who provided assistance in various forms and saved me some time by unstintingly offering her expertise in matters pertaining to digital collections. Last but not least, I would like to acknoweldge the assistance offered to me by the staff of the National Research Foundation (E.I.E) which through its efficient interlibrary loan system gave me the opportunity to access certain articles published in journals that I could not find in Greece and that otherwise I would not have been able to consult. This Book is dedicated to my wife Anna, who has helped me in ways that can hardly be described or acknowledged. She unfailingly stood by me, patiently dealing with all my sentimental upheavals during the writing of this manuscript and the preparation of the cameraready copy. She is, therefore, true to the saying χάριν λαβὼν χάριτας ἀντιδίδωμι. Christos C. Tsagalis Athens, August 2007

Contents Quotations and Transliteration ................................................................. 1 Introduction ................................................................................................ 3 Chapter 1: The Use of Gnomic Expressions The Greek Concept of γνῶμαι ..................................................................................... 10 Modern Approaches ....................................................................................................... 16 Corpus of γνῶμαι ............................................................................................................ 17 A Gnomic Grammar........................................................................................................ 19 Quantificatory Terminology.................................................................................. 19 Anaphoric ‘Generalizing’ Markers (ὅστις, οὗ) and Deixis.............................. 21 Evaluative Terminology ......................................................................................... 26 Tenses.......................................................................................................................... 28 Particles ...................................................................................................................... 31 Style ............................................................................................................................. 32 Contextualizing the γνώμη .......................................................................................... 37 The Community of Death ....................................................................................... 38 Honoring the Deceased in the Underworld....................................................... 39 Honoring the Dead................................................................................................... 40 Chains with Nested Maxims .................................................................................. 41 Orational Maxims and the Vocality of the Performance..................................... 44 Expanded Maxims........................................................................................................... 48 Opposition......................................................................................................................... 49 Mnemonic Devices.......................................................................................................... 50 Meter.................................................................................................................................. 51

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Chapter 2: Poetic Imagery The Light of Life .............................................................................................................. 63 Φῶς/Φάος................................................................................................................... 65 Individual φῶς/φάος Expressions ....................................................................... 67 Aὐγή/-αί ..................................................................................................................... 77 (a) Λίπον ἡλίου αὐγάς ............................................................................................. 77 (b) Ἀελίου εἴδομεν αὐγήν (CEG 520) .................................................................... 81 The Chamber(s) of Persephone ................................................................................... 86

Chapter 3: Public Display, Private Focus: Redefining Social Virtues Towards a Τypology of ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη..................................................... 135 (a) μετέχειν or μέρος ἔχων/ἔχουσα ἀρετῆς and/or σωφροσύνης + Quantitative Terms ..................................................... 137 (b) ἀσκεῖν ἀρετήν/σωφροσύνην ........................................................................ 142 (c) αὐξάνειν ἀρετήν/σωφροσύνην .................................................................... 149 (d) μνημεῖον ἀρετῆς/σωφροσύνης .................................................................... 150 (e) κλέος + σωφροσύνη ......................................................................................... 158 Praising the Deceased .................................................................................................. 160 Εὐλογία ..................................................................................................................... 161 Ἔπαινος .................................................................................................................... 169 (a) Professional ἔπαινος........................................................................................ 171 (b) Family-Oriented ἔπαινος................................................................................ 175 (c) Gender-Based ἔπαινος..................................................................................... 178 Σπάνις-epitaphs ...................................................................................................... 180 The ‘Thick and Thin’ Theory: Family, Age, Profession ....................................... 183 Family........................................................................................................................ 183 Age.............................................................................................................................. 198 Youth ......................................................................................................................... 200

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Old Age/Longevity ................................................................................................. 204 Profession................................................................................................................. 208 Men ............................................................................................................................ 209 Women ...................................................................................................................... 210

Chapter 4: Narrative Development and Poetic Technique The Epitaph as Inscription ......................................................................................... 216 (a) Deictic Topography ......................................................................................... 217 (b) The Reader as Passer-By ................................................................................ 219 The Epitaph as Narrative ............................................................................................ 224 (a) Extended Epigrams .......................................................................................... 224 (a1) Parataxis + Relative Expansion................................................................... 225 (a2) Relative Pronouns + μέν-δέ Expansion..................................................... 226 (a3) Relative Pronouns + δέ Expansion ............................................................. 227 (a4) Chains of Relative Expansions .................................................................... 228 (a5) The ὅς ... ποτε Relative Device .................................................................... 230 (b) Subordinate Clauses ........................................................................................ 233 (c) Parataxis ............................................................................................................. 237 (d) Asyndeton .......................................................................................................... 241 (e) Names.................................................................................................................. 243 (f) The Interplay between Speaker and Addressee ....................................... 252 (f1) Presentation of the Deceased or the Monument (CEG 529) ................. 253 (f2) Report of the Death-Situation (CEG 554)................................................... 254 (f3) The ‘I-Style’ (CEG 473) .................................................................................... 254 (f3.1) First-Person Mourner................................................................................. 255 (f4) Address Forms (CEG 604)............................................................................... 256 (f5) Dialogue............................................................................................................. 257 (f5.1) Question-Answer Device ........................................................................... 258 (f5.2) Grave-Situated Conversation ................................................................... 259

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The Poetic Grammar of the Epitaph ........................................................................ 261 (a) Diction................................................................................................................. 261 (a1) Epic Vocabulary.............................................................................................. 262 (a2) Tragic Vocabulary.......................................................................................... 268 (a3) Varia .................................................................................................................. 273 (a4) Compound Epithets ....................................................................................... 276 (a5) Influence of the Language of Decrees and Dedicatory Inscriptions ............................................................................... 278 (b) Style ..................................................................................................................... 281 (b1) Wordplay and Soundplay ............................................................................ 281 (b2) Priamel ............................................................................................................. 284 (c) Meter ................................................................................................................... 285 (c1) Outer Metric .................................................................................................... 286 (c2) Inner Metric .................................................................................................... 291 (c3) Violations ......................................................................................................... 292 (c4) Unmetrical Verses ......................................................................................... 297 (c4.1) Unmetrical Hexameters and Pentameters........................................... 297 (c4.2) Combined Forms ......................................................................................... 300 (c5) Coterminacy and Enjambment................................................................... 302

Conclusion ................................................................................................309 Table 1 .....................................................................................................321 Bibliography.............................................................................................323 General Index...........................................................................................343 Index of Principal Greek Words ..............................................................347 Index Locorum .........................................................................................349

Quotations and Transliteration To avoid repetition, I have employed a variety of synonymous terms to refer to the corpus of epigrams under discussion: inscribed grave epigrams, sepulchral epigrams, funerary epigrams. When I use the term epitaph, I am referring to a metrical inscription. Regarding the transliteration of Greek personal and place names, I have decided to follow a twofold system instead of imposing a standard form: I have employed the Anglisized form for individuals widely known from classical literature (Corinth, Empedocles, Herodotus), whereas in the case of unknown private citizens appearing in epitaphs I have opted for their transliterated Hellenicized forms (e.g. Kallimachos, not Callimachus) in order to avoid confusion. When citing a work by an orator, the number in parenthesis following the title indicates the standard numbering of the speech according to OCD practice. With respect to the abbreviations of names of ancient authors and works I have opted for their latinized form. Aiming at comprehensiveness, I have given both forms in the Index Locorum. So Soph. Trach. stands for Sophocles’ Women of Trachis, and Pl. Leg. for Plato’s Laws. Every time an edition of inscriptions is cited, the numbering does not refer to pages but to the particular inscription quoted. E.g. Kaibel (1878) 81 refers to epigram 81 in Kaibel’s 1878 edition. When reference to a particular inscribed epigram is made, the first part of the numbering designates the number of the inscription in the collection cited, whereas the second part of the number indicates a particular line, not verse (unless stated otherwise). For example, CEG 546.3 refers to the third line of a two-verse epitaph preceded by an extra metrum line. References to inscribed epigrams are made according to CEG. When an epigram is quoted in full or thoroughly discussed, the equivalent IG number is also given. In the case of epigrams published after IG II2, I have decided to follow the same practice and offer the equivalent number of ΣΕΜΑ (Συμπλήρωμα τῶν ἐπιτυμβίων μνημείων τῆς Ἀττικῆς) only when an epigram or part of it is quoted. In the Index Locorum I have grouped under the number of an inscription all references to individual lines.

Introduction The epigram constitutes one of the most persistent and long lasting genres of ancient Greek literature.1 Initially, the term ἐπίγραμμα had exactly the same meaning with the word ἐπιγραφή (inscription), which denoted writing by inscribing on material whose primary use was rather different. While parchment and papyrus were employed as writing material per se, stone, wood, pots and vases served different purposes and only secondarily were they employed for writing. Conversely, the fact that they had been used from a very early date and that they were durable resulted in their proliferation as writing material. Metrical inscriptions are attested as early as the 7th century BCE. Archaic grave epigrams have a rather severe and terse style, often containing epic overtones. The pitch is impersonal or distant, offering mainly the name, city, and elementary data concerning the deceased’s family, and sometimes his or her age. The versifier remains anonymous, the stylistic means conform to the strictest typology, and the size is as laconic as possible. In the words of Fantuzzi, “the history of the archaic and early classical inscribed epigram is the history of a ‘lesser literature’, more subordinated to, than operating in parallel with, orally transmitted verse. Such poems are satisfied with anonymity.” 2 In the early classical period (5th century BCE), metrical inscriptions grow rapidly in numbers. With respect to sepulchral epigrams, there is a considerable increase of the so-called πολυάνδρια (metrical inscriptions on public monuments commemorating the war dead) that became especially prominent in the wake of the Persian Wars. In contrast to its archaic predecessor, classical epigram begins to be more elaborate: its style is not so terse, special care is given to the placement of words in the verse, and last but not least epitaphs are imbued with a didactic-idealistic tone. The highlighting of pathos, the _____________ 1 2

See Reitzenstein, RE s.v. ‘Epigramm’. Fantuzzi (2002) 394 = (2004) 288.

4

Introduction

use of dialogue, and the stylistic embellishment bear witness to the influence of tragic poetry, oratory, and sophistic ideas and diction. In the late classical period (4th century BCE), the πολυάνδρια decrease (our statistics are representative of Athenian practice) considerably, whereas private funerary epigrams grow rapidly. This phenomenon is so profound that can only be explained by the dramatic changes caused by the Peloponnesian war and the defeat of Athens, the deep crisis of the city-state as a political entity, and the gradual transition to a world radically different from that of the fifth century, a world more interested in the private aspects of life. This shift towards the private stele was accompanied by significant changes regarding its style and content. Seven years ago, Angelos Matthaiou tried to convince a young classicist who shared with him only a tiny part of his passion for epigraphy that he should undertake a long scale research on grave epigrams of fourth-century Athens. Matthaiou made convincingly his case by arguing that the sheer number of inscribed epitaphs from Attica made this ‘epigrammatic corpus’ an ideal place to further investigate the emergence of literary features which we later on encounter in much greater frequence and sophistication in the Hellenistic period. Matthaiou’s persuasive arguments were soon turned into scientific advice and guidance of the sort all classicists need when trying to step on the untrodden paths of epigraphical texts. As soon as I began collecting my material, I realized that whereas Hansen’s Carmina Epigraphica Graeca had practically made inscribed epigrams readily accessible to classical scholars by detaching them from the overwhelming and rather imposing presence of the diverse inscriptional material collected in IG, Hellenists were still hesitant to systematically pursue a more comprehensive analysis of inscribed epigrams. It is a great pleasure to see that during these very last years there are clear signs that scholars have started to zoom their scientific lens on inscribed epigrams by endorsing a rather holistic approach that combines epigraphical knowledge with performanceanalysis. Joseph Day has led the way by studying inscribed epigrams not as mere epigraphical texts but as ‘rituals on stone’.3 Marco Fantuzzi has devoted a significant part of his very influential chapter regarding Hellenistic epigram in Muse e Modelli on inscribed epigram offering fascinating new insights.4 Doris Meyer has written an entire mono_____________ 3 4

See Day (1989), (1994), (2000), (2007). Fantuzzi (2002) 389-481 = (2004) 283-349.

Introduction

5

graph on the reception of inscribed epigram by Callimachus. Jon Steffen Bruss has studied the inheritances of Hellenistic epigram from the sepulchral sub-genre of inscribed epigram. At least the two contributions by Ewen Bowie and Marco Fantuzzi in the forthcoming volume on Archaic and Classical Greek Epigram will exercise a considerable influence regarding the ways we approach inscribed epigrams. While the former offers a pathbreaking approach to the emergence of narrative in archaic and classical epigram, the latter studies variation in ‘inter-inscriptional’ epigrams, i.e. in epigrams inscribed sequentially on the same stone.5 The realization that fourth-century Attic epitaphs are the sounding-board6 for crucial social concerns of the city-state during a transitional period and that they constitute ‘engines of family honor’7 led me to attempt a reconstruction of some of the original ancient contexts of inscribed epigrams. Although this method of analysis has considerable advantages, it should be followed blithely but not blindely. Inscriptions, even metrical ones, are by definition heavily historicised, the more so since they are a form of ancient documentation. The necessary, and rather significant, caveat is in this case the extent to which the dictional typology encountered in inscribed epigrams does not only represent current practice that is historically determined but also modes of communication between the anonymous versifiers and the future passers-by. Viewed from this vantage point, the public display of inscribed epitaphs becomes an important factor for the interpretation of certain formulaic characteristics of funerary epigrams. The thematical (epitaphs), chronological (4th century) and geographical (Attic) parameters of our corpus constitute a rather significant (162 metrical inscriptions) epigrammatic landscape that allows for drawing wide range conclusions for the evolution of the genre of epigram. In this light, my research will be focused on several trends of fourth-century Attic grave epigrams that seem to symbolize their autonomy as a corpus. In chapter one, I will explore the form and function of maxims within the context of a bipolar opposition between the public display of the monument and the private commemoration of the deceased. _____________ 5

6 7

I am indebted to both authors who were kind enough to let me see their unpublished contributions to the forthcoming volume Archaic and Classical Greek Epigram, Cambridge (2008), which has not appeared in press even as I am writing these lines. See Wilson (2007) 1, who employs the same expression for Attic theater. I owe the expression ‘engines of honor’ to Wilson (2007) 5. The idea belongs to Chaniotis (1997) 219-259.

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Introduction

One of the most noteworthy features of these maxims is that they are expressed by conditional clauses whose apodosis refers to a particular departed. Apart from discussing the origins and potential literary influence regarding the use of the aforementioned type of wisdom expressions, I will examine gnomic statements as a constituent part of the staging of epitaphs by future readers. In chapter two, the emphasis will be on a detailed examination of regularly employed imagery pertaining to the themes featured by inscribed grave epigrams, i.e. leaving the light of the sun and going to the chambers of Persephone. The former is a standard metaphor for the end of one’s life, but its dictional variants and sophisticated use in funerary epigrams show that the anonymous versifiers deftly employ it in order to produce literary effects. The latter expression has not only practically replaced any reference to Hades but has also, and more importantly, evolved into a sophisticated imagery reflecting religious beliefs and cultural values circulating in fourth-century Athens. In chapter three, I will study the social matrix within which fourth-century epitaphs function. Funerary epigrams from fourthcentury Attica (like sepulchral inscriptions at large) often “convey to the reader a poignant sense of loss of a family member” but “the desire to evoke memories of the dead [are] heavily concentrated within the nuclear family” and “the stress in the epitaphs is not the representation of the deceased as a member of an agnatic lineage.” 8 On the one hand the focus will be on determining and exploring a typology of abstract terms and expressions that reflect current social concerns (such as ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη), and on the other on studying the family, age and profession, which are regularly employed with regard to the deceased. Chapter four is a detailed study of the narrative techniques, style, literary influence, and metrical structure of fourth-century Attic grave epigrams. In particular, epitaphs will be studied as inscriptions, i.e. in respect of their constant aim to indicate the fact that they are inscribed, and as narrative, i.e. regarding their textual characteristics and the devices they employ in order to expand the absolutely necessary information that they should convey. Last but not least, I will explore their poetic grammar regarding both the origins of their literary loans and non-literary influence of current inscriptional material _____________ 8

Bodel (2001) 98-99. Bodel’s statements are based on Humphreys’ persuasive arguments (1980) that have refuted Fustel de Coulanges’ (1980 [=1864]) theory of agnatic lineage in both Greece and Rome.

Introduction

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(such as decrees and dedicatory inscriptions) and their inner and outer metric. In the end of the 4th century BCE inscriptional epigrams have made most of all the necessary steps towards breaking free from the monuments they are inscribed on and acquiring their poetic autonomy. During the period framed by Pericles’ law (451/450 BCE) of δοκιμασία, according to which all future Athenian citizens had to show the place where both their parents were buried, and the legislation of Demetrius of Phaleron (317 BCE), who prohibited the erection of luxurious funerary stelae and monuments by private citizens, Athens witnessed an impressive growth of metrical grave epigrams. The present monograph is an attempt to offer a comprehensive treatment of a statistically significant body of material bridging the gap between its archaic and early classical antecedents and the renowned literary epigram of the Hellenistic period.

Chapter 1 The Use of Gnomic Expressions Wisdom literature encompasses a wide variety of manifestations of popular wisdom including παροιμίαι (proverbs), αἶνοι (sayings), ἀφορισμοί (pithy statements, aphorisms, fixed rules), ἀποφθέγματα (retorts, apothegms),1 χρεῖαι (pregnant sentences frequently accompanied by anecdotes),2 ὑποθῆκαι (instructions), παραγγέλματα (precepts) and γνῶμαι (maxims).3 The study of γνῶμαι in epigrammatic poetry, however, has not yet received the attention it deserves in classical scholarship. Despite the fact that the 19th and early 20th centuries had experienced an explosion of philological studies on wisdom literature (most of them published in Germany),4 there was and still is no study devoted to the examination of γνῶμαι in Greek epigrams.5 On the other hand, a significant change of scope has been made in the late 20th century as cultural anthropology, ethno- and sociolinguistics have shaped our understanding of the function and role of wisdom literature in Greek antiquity. Thus, the emphasis is now not on taxonomy and classification but on performance and context, not on parallels but on cultural variants.

_____________ 1

See Gemoll (1924); Stenger (2006) 208-211. See Fauser (1987) 414-425, (1994) 190-197; Stenger (2006) 212-215. 3 The relevant lemmata of the Neue Pauly, especially the one on γνώμη [Gärtner (1998) 1108-1116], offer detailed and up-to-date information about wisdom expressions. See also Lardinois (1995) 13-19; Sánchez-Elvira and Romero (1999) 339-356. 4 Lingenberg (1872); Bauck (1880); Crusius (1883); Baar (1887); Hotop (1888); Martin (1889); Koch (1887-1892); Grünwald (1893); Rein (1894); Wunderer (1898); Geisler (1908); Tschajkanowitsch (1908); Keim (1909); Crusius (1910); Salzmann (1910); Wolf (1910); Prittwitz-Gaffron (1912); Tsirimbas (1936). There is also a significant Italian contribution to this field. The two volumes of collected essays on aspects of gnomic literature in the ancient world that have been published by Funghi in (2003-2004) have immensely enriched our knowledge of wisdom literature. 5 See Edmunds (1997) 45-46. 2

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Chapter 1

Greek wisdom literature comprises various sub-genres, among which the Hypothekai occupy a central position.6 Gnomic statements must have been widely diffused not only because they belonged to folk-literature and so were shared by all Greek communities but also through school use, which is attested as early as the very beginnings of the 5th century BCE. The existence of compilations of maxims can be seen in various poetic collections with a strong gnomic element such as the pseudo-Hesiodic Ch(e)ironos Hypothekai (frs. 283-285 M.W.), the Theognidea, the verses of Pseudo-Phocylides and PseudoDemodocus, the precepts of the Seven Sages, the Gnomai Monostichoi of Menander.7 Gnomic literature constitutes a sub-genre in its own sake. This is not the place to offer even a summary of its evolution or to give the names of all collections of maxims and discuss their content. What is beyond doubt is that in the Classical period even the average educated citizen had at his disposal a real treasure of gnomic statements, which he could use in private epitaphs, a phenomenon strongly attested in fourth-century Athens.

The Greek Concept of γνῶμαι Gnomic statements abound in Greek literature since its very first beginnings. Almost all genres (epic, lyric, drama, historiography, rhetorical theory) employ maxims aiming to achieve various goals. I do not intend to give a thorough history of the γνώμη in Greek literature antedating the 4th century but to indicate some of the multiple uses of gnomic statements in different genres, in order to elucidate the reasons for their use in fourth-century Attic sepulchral epigrams. In each case, I will attempt to map out the main function of γνῶμαι, especially when their earlier use is relevant to their function within the framework of the inscriptional corpus under examination. One of the typical roles gnomic statements play in Homeric epic is to convince someone to do something good or refrain from doing something wrong.8 Such an argumentative, persuasion-oriented device is based on the innate authority the γνώμη transfers to the per_____________ 6 7 8

See Edmunds (1997) 45-46. For a detailed presentation of the γνώμη, see now Liapis (2002) 29-107; Funghi (2003-2004). On gnomic statements in Homeric epic, see Stickney (1903) 25-49; Ahrens (1937) 12-93; Villemonteix (1979) 85-96; Lardinois (1995) 42-188; Stenger (2004) 6-9.

The Use of Gnomic Expressions

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son who utters it.9 Maxims are also employed in cases where the poet aims at elevating the status of a given speaker, of adding force to his words and transforming him into an active agent of the plot. Hesiod’s Works and Days are well known, among other things, for the plethora of γνῶμαι scattered throughout the entire poem but piled up in greater numbers in its second part.10 These gnomic statements are often placed at the beginning or end of an argument and are constantly employed by the narrator of the Works and Days who “presents himself as a competent gnome-builder.” 11 Juxtaposition of maxims of various sorts is not uncommon. Some of them are expanded, doubled, tripled or even quadrupled.12 The systematic use of maxims by Pindar and Bacchylides has to be seen within the wider context of wisdom poetry to which belong the Hesiodic Works and Days, the Theognidean corpus, Pseudo-Phocylides, Pseudo-Demodocus and the fragmentary Ch(e)ironos Hypothekai. The use of γνῶμαι in the epinician poetry of Pindar and Bacchylides fulfills four distinct functions:13 (a) to create links between structural elements or larger units, which would be otherwise unconnected;14 (b) to ‘transfer’ the undisputed ethos of a gnomic statement to the epinicion itself.15 This is an implicit indication that victory in an athletic event is not an external or casual blessing or good but is based on the existence of internal values and put into their use; (c) to contribute, equally to the song’s afterlife and the poet’s fame, to the ‘immortality’ of an individual athletic victory;16 (d) to enable the audience to interpret and evaluate the epinicion. At the same time the poet is able to offer advice to his audience about how to connect the individual parts of his work to the whole.17 Within this framework, the γνώμη has be_____________ 9 10

11 12 13 14

15 16

17

A general account of Iliadic gnomic statements is offered by Lardinois (1997) 213-234. On maxims in Hesiod, see Hoekstra (1950) 89-114; Pellizer (1972) 24-37; Fernández Delgado (1978) 261-267, (1986). Lardinois (1995) 193. Lardinois (1995) 192. Stenger (2004) 52-55. See also Márquez Guerrero (1992); Stuligrosz (2000) 153-162. See Mackie (2003) 18 and n. 32, who observes that in Pindaric poetry gnomic statements are often placed at juncture points, especially when a break-off passage begins or ends. For the ‘closing maxims’ pattern in Pindar, see Olymp. 1.52-53; Olymp. 2.95-96; Olymp. 9.35-43; Pyth. 1.82-83; Nem. 3.29-31; Nem. 5.16-18; Nem. 6.53-57; Nem. 8.20-22; Nem. 10.20; Isthm. 5.52-53. See Arist. Rhet. 1395b12-13: ἠθικοὺς γὰρ ποιεῖ τοὺς λόγους. On the poetological foundations of gnomic statement in epinician poetry, see Stenger (2004) 318-344. On closural γνῶμαι in Pindar, see Rutherford (1997) 51, 58.

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come a “direct instrument, in order to interpret the victory and explicitly formulate its relevance.” 18 By delineating for the audience the parameters for its interpretation, the poet aims either at controlling the reception of his song or at least leading his listeners to the ‘meaning’ he has chosen for them in advance.19 Herodotean γνῶμαι form part of other traditional storytelling methods such as narrative patterns and paradigmatic tales20 and epitomize a “complex presentation in which the analysis of events is embedded in the narrative.” 21 A significant number of Herodotean gnomic statements have an explanatory function, especially those contradicting maxims that “clarify and distinguish two (or more) opposing points of view, but also … provide an explanation of why events turned out the way they did.” 22 In Thucydides23 generalizations about the behavior of states and mankind are widely employed by speakers aiming at “explaining, predicting or justifying recommendations.” 24 These kinds of proverbial statements in Thucydides can be classified into two categories: maxims and universal principles.25 The former are based on experience or common sense (often introduced by γάρ or τε), while the latter “articulate general rules of behavior” and refer to the wider range of applications possible (“signalled by αἰεί or a form of παντ-”). 26 Thucydidean maxims function on three distinct levels: (a) internally on the micro-level of the passage, i.e. in respect of the specific argument they support; (b) internally on the macro-level of the speech they are embedded in; (c) externally, i.e in reference to other situations in the entire work.27 This last type of maxim is reader-oriented, since the historian aims at selecting and highlighting through its use generalized phenomena permeating the entire History. Thucydides’ maxims and universal principles operate as devices that significantly deepen the historian’s outlook on his work as a whole. _____________ 18 19 20

21 22 23 24 25 26 27

Stenger (2004) 54. See Stenger (2004) 54. On the influence of traditional folk wisdom that has significantly determined the function of maxims in Herodotean narrative, see Lang (1984) 58-67; Gould (1989) 63-85. Shapiro (2000) 92. Shapiro (2000) 108. Meister (1955) 13. Dover (1981) 396. Only twelve of the approximately 200 Thucydidean maxims appear in narrative. See Meister (1955) 13. Morrison (2006) 272. Morrison (2006) 273. Meister (1955) 50-90.

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13

Gnomic statements are found in all three tragedians28 but Euripides’ philosophical tone seems to have been a suitable framework for their more recurrent use.29 In general, γνῶμαι constitute a persuasive device reflecting common sense mirroring the position of humans in the world order. They characterize the speaker, add considerably to the creation of his ethos and are also used as a sophisticated medium by the author who aims at directing the reception of his work. The latter is colored in a very particular way, when gnomic statements are regularly used, the result being that the audience is brought closer to the poet’s Weltanschauung.30 The general viewpoint concerning the works of Euripides, who has been called γνωμολογικώτατος31 and sententiis densus,32 is the natural outcome of the philosophical tone with which his dramas are imbued.33 The Greeks themselves did not simply use expressions of popular wisdom in various literary genres, but became quite interested in their function, application and precise meaning. Γνώμη started its life as a literary term in the 4th century BCE, since it is used with this meaning in Isocrates’ To Nicocles (2) 44: … εἴ τις ἐκλέξειε τῶν προεχόντων ποιητῶν τὰς καλουμένας γνώμας … (if someone selected the so called γνῶμαι from the preeminent poets).34 Aristotle was the first who in the Rhetoric examined in some detail wisdom terms and his study of γνῶμαι is of particular importance to our research.35 In the section περὶ γνωμολογίας in Rhet. 1394a1395b20,36 Aristotle defined γνώμη in the following way (Rhet. 1394a21-25): ἔστι δὴ γνώμη ἀπόφανσις, οὐ μέντοι οὔτε περὶ τῶν καθ’ ἕκαστον, οἷον ποῖός τις Ἰφικράτης, ἀλλὰ καθόλου, οὔτε περὶ πάντων, οἷον ὅτι τὸ εὐθὺ τῷ

_____________ 28

29 30 31 32 33

34

35

36

On Aeschylus, see Zanichelli (1990) 65-76; Grimaldi (1999) 421-476. On Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, see Koch (1887-1892); Linde (1896). On Euripides’ use of maxims, see Stevens (1976); Most (2003) 141-166. Stenger (2004) 26. See Most (2003) 141-166. Quintilian 10.1.68. I owe this reference to Most (2003) 144. See Athenaeus 4.158e (cf. 13.561a), who has neatly characterized Euripides as ὁ σκηνικὸς οὗτος φιλόσοφος. I owe this reference to Kannicht (1997) 69 n. 10. See also Most (2003) 144. For a detailed presentation of the Greeks’ concern with proverbs, proverbial expressions and maxims, see Bielohlawek (1940) 6, 34-35, 53-59, 63-66; Kindstrand (1978) 71-85; see also the introductory notes of Shapiro (2000) 89-92. Lardinois (1995) 7-13 offers a detailed discussion of Aristotle’s definition and interpretation of γνώμη. See also Searby (1998); Liapis (2002) 13-17. I follow Ross’ OCT edition.

14

Chapter 1 καμπύλῳ ἐναντίον, ἀλλὰ περὶ ὅσων αἱ πράξεις εἰσί, καὶ <ἃ> αἱρετὰ ἢ φευκτά ἐστι πρὸς τὸ πράττειν. A maxim is an assertion—not, however, one about particulars, such as what kind of a person Iphicrates is, but of a general sort, and not about everything (for example, not that the straight is the opposite of the crooked) but about the things that involve actions and are to be chosen or avoided in regard to action.37

This Aristotelian definition must be coupled with the philosopher’s famous distinction between universal and general statements in On Interpretation 7.17a38-17b16:38 ᾽Επεὶ δέ ἐστι τὰ μὲν καθόλου τῶν πραγμάτων τὰ δὲ καθ᾽ ἕκαστον, —λέγω δὲ καθόλου μὲν ὃ ἐπὶ πλειόνων πέφυκε κατηγορεῖσθαι, καθ᾽ ἕκαστον δὲ ὃ μή, οἷον ἄνθρωπος μὲν τῶν καθόλου, Καλλίας δὲ τῶν καθ’ ἕκαστον,— ἀνάγκη δὲ ἀποφαίνεσθαι ὡς ὑπάρχει τι ἢ μή, ὁτὲ μὲν τῶν καθόλου τινί, ὁτὲ δὲ τῶν καθ’ ἕκαστον. ἐὰν μὲν οὖν καθόλου ἀποφαίνηται ἐπὶ τοῦ καθόλου ὅτι ὑπάρχει ἢ μή, ἔσονται ἐναντίαι αἱ ἀποφάνσεις, —λέγω δὲ ἐπὶ τοῦ καθόλου ἀποφαίνεσθαι καθόλου, οἷον πᾶς ἄνθρωπος λευκός, οὐδεὶς ἄνθρωπος λευκός˙— ὅταν δὲ ἐπὶ τῶν καθόλου μέν, μὴ καθόλου δέ, οὐκ εἰσὶν ἐναντίαι, τὰ μέντοι δηλούμενα ἔστιν εἶναι ἐναντία, —λέγω δὲ τὸ μὴ καθόλου ἀποφαίνεσθαι ἐπὶ τῶν καθόλου, οἷον ἔστι λευκὸς ἄνθρωπος, οὐκ ἔστι λευκὸς ἄνθρωπος· καθόλου γὰρ ὄντος τοῦ ἄνθρωπος οὐχ ὡς καθόλου χρῆται τῇ ἀποφάνσει· τὸ γὰρ πᾶς οὐ τὸ καθόλου σημαίνει ἀλλ’ ὅτι καθόλου.— ἐπὶ δὲ τοῦ κατηγορουμένου τὸ καθόλου κατηγορεῖν καθόλου οὐκ ἔστιν ἀληθές˙ οὐδεμία γὰρ κατάφασις ἔσται, ἐν ᾗ τοῦ κατηγορουμένου καθόλου τὸ καθόλου κατηγορηθήσεται, οἷον ἔστι πᾶς ἄνθρωπος πᾶν ζῷον. Now of actual things some are universal, others particular (I call universal that which is by its nature predicated of a number of things, and particular that which is not; man, for instance, is a universal, Callias a particular). So it must sometimes be of a universal that one states that something holds or does not, sometimes of a particular. Now if one states universally of a universal that something holds or does not, there will be contrary statements (examples of what I mean by ‘stating universally of a universal’ are: every man is white—a man is not white). But when one states something of a universal but not universally, the statements are not contrary (though what is being revealed may be contrary). Examples of what I mean by ‘stating of a universal not universally’ are: a man is white—a man is not white; man is a universal but it is not used universally in the statement (for ‘every’ does not signify the universal but that it is taken universally). It is not true to predicate a universal universally of a subject, for there cannot be an affirmation in

_____________ 37 38

Translation by Kennedy (1991) 182. I follow the text of Minio-Paluello (1956) and the translation of Ackrill (1984).

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15

which a universal is predicated universally of a subject, for instance: every man is every animal.

Aristotle’s definition of γνώμη and his distinction between universal and general statements is of key importance for understanding what a maxim really is. The two crucial observations Aristotle has made is (a) the generalizing character of the γνώμη and (b) its lack of general applicability, that is to say its aptness to a particular situation. Therefore, following Lardinois, we may define the γνώμη as “a generalizing statement about a particular action.”39 The generalizing character of the γνώμη is further supported by Anaximenes of Lampsacus (Ars Rhetorica 11.1, p. 38, 4-5 Fuhrmann): γνώμη δέ ἐστι μὲν ὡς ἐν κεφαλαίῳ καθ᾽ ὅλων τῶν πραγμάτων δόγματος ἰδίου δήλωσις. Other definitions of γνῶμαι have been given by the author of ad Herennium 4.17.24: ‘sententia est oratio sumpta de vita, quae aut quid sit aut quid esse oporteat in vita breviter ostendit’, by [Hermogenes], Progymnasmata 4: γνώμη ἐστὶ λόγος κεφαλαιώδης ἐν ἀποφάνσει καθολικῇ ἀποτρέπων τι ἢ προτρέπων ἐπί τι ἢ ὁποῖον ἕκαστόν τι δηλῶν, and by Priscianus, Praeexercitamina 4 (De sententia): ‘sententia est oratio generalem pronuntationem habens, hortans ad aliquam rem vel dehortans vel demonstrans quale sit aliquid’.40 This brief sketch regarding the concept and use of gnomic statements in antiquity shows that maxims were employed to persuade an addressee to follow or refrain from a course of action, to elevate the status of a speaker or to confer authority on his work, to explain complicated points of view, to link the particular to the universal and, last but not least, to question the very foundations (religious, philosophical, ethical, political) upon which the Greek worldview was constructed. Most of the above observations with respect to the way Greek literary genres had treated gnomic statements are also valid to our examination of the use of maxims in fourth-century funerary epigrams. What modern approaches contributed to this ongoing concern about the function of maxims is, as will be shown, the search for specific dictional features that enabled us to place gnomic statements in the realm of oral forms of expression common to all members of a given community in place and time.

_____________ 39 40

Lardinois (1995) 12. I owe all these references to Liapis (2002) 13-14, 79-83 (Appendix A2).

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Modern Approaches Modern encyclopaedias and lexica41 distinguish between three separate meanings which constitute the entire semantic field covered by the term γνώμη: (a) ability to recognize and know, (b) criterion or measure for recognizing and knowing, and (c) the result of the ability to know and recognize, namely knowledge. Γνώμη is a nomen actionis with ‘kognitive, deliberative und voluntative Elemente: «Erkenntnis» [knowledge], «Einsicht» [inspection], «Meinung» [opinion], «Entschluss» [decision] (sogar «Wille» [Will]), «Weisung» [instruction], «massgebliches Urteil» [definitive judgement], «Antrag» [proposal], «Beschluss» [decision] und «Richtersprache» [judgement, sentence]’. 42 Γνώμη is usually translated into English as ‘maxim’43 and can be defined as a brief, compact expression of generalizing character referring to a particular action or to a concrete situation and is based on a pattern-shaped phrase. Γνῶμαι are especially appropriate in arguments relating or distinguishing particular and general but they can be also used on their own as self-sufficient maxims.44 They can be ‘the final part of the logical structure called the enthymeme’45 and they are more at home at the mouth of old people who speak authoritatively.46 To Aristotle’s content-based criteria for classification of γνῶμαι, Most47 has recently added a list of linguistic features pertaining to gnomic statements. These criteria are of great help for studying the structure and subsequently understanding the function of maxims: _____________ 41

42

43

44 45 46

47

See Gärtner, RE s.v. ‘Gnome’ (for definitions of γνώμη see col. 1108) and Silk OCD s.v. ‘gnome’ (640). Extremely useful are also the older lemmata by Horna and von Fritz, RE s.v. ‘gnome’ (VI, cols. 74-90), and Huart (1973) 11-13. See also the relevant discussion in Liapis (2002) 13. Gärtner, RE s.v. ‘Gnome’. The English translations between brackets are mine. Silk’s alternative rendering of the term γνώμη as ‘aphorism’ (OCD s.v. ‘gnome’ [640]) is not accurate; see the distinctions made in page 9 of this study and also Gärtner (RE s.v. ‘Gnome’ col. 1109). Silk, OCD s.v. ‘gnome’ (640). Russo (1997) 49-64, 143-149 and in particular 56. See Arist. Rhet. 1395a2-6; Demetrius (On Style 232). Russo (1997) 57 rightly observes: “It might appear that Demetrius diverges from Aristotle by assuming that proverbs characterize common people’s speech, whereas Aristotle said that rustics characteristically used maxims. But their comments may be reconciled by noting that both authors share the judgement that rustics (and young people) lack the knowledge to use maxims properly and so are prone to inappropriate gnômologia.” Most (2003) 146.

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17

(a) Quantificatory (all men-none, many-few) (b) Deictic ‘generalizing’ markers (τοιοῦτος, οὗτος, ὅστις) (c) Evaluative terminology (adjectives: good, bad, adverbs, nouns [qualities and moral defects], verbs, neutral predicats) (d) Verbs (aspect, tense) (e) Particles: τοι, γάρ / δέ, ἀλλά (f) Style: brevity, precision / repetition, parallelism / contrast, antonymes / parataxis preferred to hypotaxis. The abovementioned criteria speak for the importance of studying maxims as a form of special speech that is imbued with distinct and recognizable linguistic markers. Given that all speech is inherently performative, the application of these criteria to our corpus of inscribed gnomic expressions is especially valid, since inscribed epigrams aim at gaining a readership. Viewed from this vantage point, γνῶμαι are studied as modes of communication between the anonymous versifiers and the person(s) who commissioned their composition and erection of the funerary monument on the one hand, and the passers-by who would stop and read them. Public display of the monument and private commemoration of the deceased delineate the framework within which we should place the interpretation of the aforementioned linguistic markers. In this sense, it is no commonplace to say that the dictional typology of gnomic statements pertains to the staging of metrical epitaphs by future passers-by. Before testing these criteria to the gnomic statements attested in fourth-century epigrams, let us first present the corpus of γνῶμαι we will deal with.

Corpus of γνῶμαι There are sixteen gnomic statements in the entire corpus of fourthcentury Attic funerary epigrams. 1. IG II2 10435 = CEG 487 πάντων ἀνθρώπων νόμος ἐ|στὶ κοινὸς τὸ ἀποθανε̃ν. …| 2. IG II2 10998 = CEG 489 τὸς ἀγαθὸς ἔστερξεν Ἄρης, ἐφίλησε δ’ ἔπαινος, | καὶ γήραι νεότης οὐ παρέδωχ’ ὑβρίσαι· |

18

Chapter 1 3. CEG 49348 ὅστις ἔπαινος ἄριστος ἐν ἀνθρώποισι γυναικῶν, | Xαιρίππη τούτο πλεῖστον ἔχουσ’ ἔθανεν· | 4. CEG 518 = ΣΕΜΑ 2313 πᾶσι θανεῖν <ε>ἵμαρτα<ι> ὅσοι ζῶσιν, σὺ δὲ πένθος 5. CEG 520 χαίρετε· κοινὸν γὰρ ῥῆμα τόδ’ ἐστὶ βροτοῖς. | 6. CEG 525 ὁ ̃ σπάνις ἐστὶ γυνα<ι>κί, ἐσθλὴν καὶ σώφρονα φῦναι | τὴν αὐτήν, δοκίμως τοῦδ’ ἔτυχεγ Γλυκέρα. 7. CEG 559 εἴ τι δικαιοσύ[ν]ης ἆθλον τίθεται κατὰ γαίας, | Εὔφανες, οὐ χαλεπὸν τοῦδέ σε πρῶτα λαβε͂ν. 8. IG II2 7873 = CEG 571 … εἴπερ χρηστοῖς γέρας ἐ̣στίν, πρώτει σοι τι̣[μα]|ί, τίτθη, παρὰ Φερσεφόνει Πλούτωνί τε κεῖνται. 9. IG II2 11594 = CEG 575 ca. 6 [εἰ θέμις ἦν] θ̣νητὴν ἐναρίθμι|ο[ν Ó Ô˘Ô ο]υσαν ἀθανάταις | νο[μίσαι, σοὶ] τὸ γέρας τόδ’ ἂν | ἦν, Ἡράκλ[ει]α· ... 10. IG II2 11974 = CEG 577 [π]άντων ὧν θέμις ἐστὶ τυχεῖν εὐδαίμοσι θνητοῖς ´ | ζῶσά τε ἐκοινώνουν καὶ φθιμένη μετέχω. | 11. CEG 586 = ΣΕΜΑ 1375 [π]ολλ[ο]ῖς ἀ<φ>νηὸν δαίμων βίον ὤπασε προῖκ[α], | παύροισιν δὲ ἔτυμογ κτῆμα δικαιοσύνην,| 12. IG II2 11169 = CEG 593 ὀθεὶς μόχθος ἔπαινον ἐπ’ ἀνδράσι τοῖς ἀγαθοῖσιν | ζητεῖν, ηὕρηται δὲ ἄφθονος εὐλογία· | 13. CEG 594 = ΣΕΜΑ 527 εἴ τις τῶν ἀγαθῶν μνείαν ἔχει ἐν δορὸς ἀλκεῖ, | πρῶτον κρίνων {ων} ἂν τόνδε δίκης μετέχοι· | 14. IG II2 7863 = CEG 595 εἰ τὸ καλῶς ἔστι θανεῖν, κἀμοὶ τοῦτ’ ἀπένειμε Τύχη· |

_____________ 48

See also CEG 581 (if the restoration is correct).

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19

15. IG II2 5501 = CEG 600 εἰ τὰ θεῶν τιμᾶν̲ χ̲ρ̲ηστῶν τ’ ἔργων ἐπιθυμεῖν | καὶ τὸ δικαιόσυν[όν τε φίλο]ν τε φίλοισι προσεῖναι | δόξα ἀρετή τε βροτοῖς καὶ ἀνενκλήτως βιοτεῦσαι, | πάντα σὺ ταῦτʼ ἔσχες, Μ̲νησαρ̲χίδη̣, ἀπροφ̲ασίστως̲. 16. IG II2 6551 = CEG 603 εἰ δέ τις εὐσεβίας παρὰ Φερσεφόνει χάρις ἐστίν, | καὶ σοὶ τῆσδε μέρος δῶκε Τύχη φθιμένει.

A Gnomic Grammar Gnomic statements exemplify a typology of features both stemming from and pertaining to their special role as a recognizable sub-genre. The generalizing force of maxims, their authority-conferring power, quantificatory nature, and consolatory tone constitute the basic pillars upon which their particular ‘grammar’ has been constructed. Under these interpretive parameters, determining the specific style of the gnomic statements of our corpus is not simply a literary feature satisfying the classificatory desires of a modern scholar. On the contrary, it amounts to the very function of maxims within the larger framework of the complex ‘monument-inscription’, and by extension to the performativity of a given sub-genre such as the γνώμη. The latter is now recontextualized within its new environment, since the broadly shared truth advertised by the maxim acquires a certain intermediality bringing closer the ‘monument-deceased’ complex and the future passers-by, who would stop and read the inscription aloud. Quantificatory Terminology The use of quantificatory devices reflects the generalizing function of the γνώμη, which is inherent in its very nature. Quantificatory devices employed in the gnomic statements of our corpus fall into two categories: (a) the absolute, and (b) the comparative. By absolute I am designating those dictional means encompassing the entire community. In this conception, the analogy with the superlative degree of adjectives may be instructive, the more so since both categories express either the highest degree of a given quality (superlatives) or the widest possible range of a phenomenon (γνῶμαι). In CEG 487 (πάντων ἀνθρώπων νόμος ἐ|στὶ κοινὸς τὸ ἀποθανε̃ν), the

20

Chapter 1

quantificatory terms πάντων ἀνθρώπων and κοινός delineate the widest range of application possible. The event of the deceased’s death, a personalised event commemorated in a private epitaph, acquires larger proportions, as it is presented as a dire necessity having the force of a ‘law’ (νόμος). In CEG 518 (πᾶσι θανεῖν <ε>ἵμαρται ὅσοι ζῶσιν, σὺ δὲ πένθος / ...) it is emphatically stated that death is the common fate of all men. Conversely, the author of the epitaph will in the ensuing verses focus on the grief and mourning of a particular group of people, i.e. the deceased’s family. Under this scope, the gnomic statement placed at the epitaph’s beginning functions like a proem introducing the epigram’s main theme. Its philosophical tone and generalizing nature aims at situating the personal event of death within the larger context of human fate. In CEG 520 (... / χαίρετε· κοινὸν γὰρ ῥῆμα τόδ’ ἐστὶ βροτοῖς) the quantificatory combination κοινὸν ... βροτοῖς bridges the initial address to the deceased’s friends (ὦ φίλοι ἡμέτεροι, χρηστ<ο>ὶ πιστ<ο>ὶ διὰ παντός) with a gnomic statement covering all mortal men. Moreover, the use of the word βροτοί, instead of the rather uncolored ἄνθρωποι, implicitly hints at the fact that humans are expendable. The address (χαίρετε),49 contrary to earlier practice, refers now to the living, not to the dead. The gnomic ‘pitch’ of the ensuing expression discloses the new tone these epitaphs are imbued with, since the threnodic overtones, which are clearly downplayed or absent altogether, have given their place to a consolatory feeling towards the living.50 Grief has been replaced by consolation.51 The dictional concinnity of this skilfull interplay between the ‘personalized’ initial address and the ‘generalized’ ensuing γνώμη shows that quantificatory terminology in use is not a simple concomitant feature of the maxim but an elaborate and effective mechanism that allows the epitaph’s author to make sophisticated

_____________ 49 50 51

See Sourvinou-Inwood (1995a) 180-216, esp. 200-210. See Rossi (1999) 33. It would have been interesting to know to what extent the tradition of Simonidean and Pindaric threnos with its gnomic-consolatory tone has influenced fourth-century epigrammatic themes and conventions as far as inscribed sepulchral epigrams are concerned. In the case of Simonides, this investigation becomes all the more intriguing, given the existence of an epigrammatic collection of Simonidea circulating at least in Athens. On the gnomic-consolatory nature of the Simonidean and Pindaric threnos, see Harvey (1955) 157-175, esp. 168; Cannatà Fera (1990) 23; Yatromanolakis (1998) 1-11. On the origins and development of the Sylloge Simonidea, see Sider (2007) 113130.

The Use of Gnomic Expressions

21

connections between the singularity of the commemorated event and the repetitivity of the performance.52 Conversely, by comparative I am referring to expressions that designate smaller groups of people (family, relatives, social groups). This decrease of the quantification’s range must not at all be seen as a subsequent decrease of the maxim’s force or weight. It is rather a mechanism of specialization and particularization of the gnomic statement’s application to a specific group of individuals. The reason behind this strategy is often the implicit conferring of a positive quality on the deceased. In CEG 594 (εἴ τις τῶν ἀγαθῶν μνείαν ἔχει ἐν δορὸς ἀλκεῖ), the quantificatory expression τῶν ἀγαθῶν stands for a covert praise to the deceased, since the reader of the epitaph will at once ‘situate’ the dead Diognetos within the ‘fictional’ community of the ἀγαθοί. Likewise, the use of the expression (CEG 571) … εἴπερ χρηστοῖς, γέρας ἐ̣στίν indicates that the deceased (who is going to be mentioned by name in the following verse) is recognized as a member of that special χρηστοί-community. Another form of comparative quantification is based on the use of polar opposites for designating groups of people. In CEG 586 [π]ολλ[ο]ῖς ἀ<φ>νηὸν δαίμων βίον ὤπασε προῖκ[α], | παύροισιν δὲ ἔτυμογ κτῆμα δικαιοσύνην.|...), the antithesis between πολλοῖς-παύροισιν becomes the foil for the positive focalization of the deceased, who is presented as belonging to a special community, the community of the righteous few. In this way, the reader realizes that the first antithesis is a vehicle carrying him to a second opposition, lying at the very heart of the gnomic statement, i.e. the ἀ<φ>νηόν … βίον - ἔτυμογ κτῆμα δικαιοσύνην. The initial quantificatory reference functions, therefore, as a zooming technique onto the internal nucleus of the γνώμη, paving the way for appreciating the nature of the indirect praise attributed to the deceased. When this is done, then the gnomic statement has fulfilled its role, and the author of the epitaph can proceed to the particulars pertaining to the deceased’s past life. Anaphoric ‘Generalizing’ Markers (ὅστις, οὗ) and Deixis The use of anaphoric markers is noteworthy, for it reveals some of the ex silentio functions of gnomic statements. Since anaphoric markers refer in general to something already stated, their use at the beginning of epitaphs needs to be explained. I suggest that this phenome_____________ 52

For this aspect of quantificatory terminology included in the γνῶμαι, see the section ʻVoice in Text: Oral Maxims and the Vocality of Performanceʼ.

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non is due to the very nature of gnomic statements, whose decoding presupposes the sharing of a certain amount of knowledge by all members of a cultural community. In CEG 489 (ὅστις ἔπαινος ἄριστος ἐν ἀνθρώποισιν γυναικῶν, | / Xαιρίππη τούτο πλεῖστον ἔχουσ’ ἔθανεν· | …), the nature of the best praise for women is not stated but assumed as known. In fact, the fluidity of the expression (ὅστις … τούτο πλεῖστον ἔχουσ’) may also indicate that the composer of the epitaph wished to leave open for his future readers a ‘window of interpretive opportunity’, i.e. to allow them to give to the ‘best praise … for women’ (ἔπαινος ἄριστος … γυναικῶν) whatever meaning would have been appropriate on a personal basis. In this way, every time the maxim (and the epitaph) would be read, the future reader would be able to recontextualize the gnomic statement, even at the expense of deconstructing its ‘original’ meaning. In CEG 525 (ὁ̃ σπάνις ἐστὶ γυνα<ι>κί, ἐσθλὴν καὶ σώφρονα φῦναι | τὴν αὐτήν, δοκίμως τοῦδ’ ἔτυχεγ Γλυκέρα), the anaphoric marker ὁ̃ is subsequently explained (ἐσθλὴν καὶ σώφρονα φῦναι | τὴν αὐτήν). This time, the applicability of the γνώμη to any future reader’s beliefs is annulled, since the epitaph’s composer has decided to limit the maxim’s range by tailoring it to current fourth-century ideas. Nevertheless, this particular phrasing of the gnomic statement is significantly different from saying e.g. ‘it is rare for the same woman to be both ἐσθλή and σώφρων’. Whereas the latter simply expresses a general statement, CEG 525 reinforces it considerably by stressing the fact that it is the deceased Glykera who genuinely (δοκίμως) embodied the meaning expressed by this maxim. In this case, the anaphoric device acquires its full semantic potential when tied to the particularity of this specific commemoration, as indicated by the use of a correlative device (ὁ̃ ... τοῦδ’). Deixis is often employed in the tenor following gnomic statements. Before I embark on a discussion of the particular forms of deixis used in our corpus, let me briefly clarify the relevant terminology. The basic distinction is that proposed by Bühler53 between deixis ad oculos (pertaining to extra-textual realia), textual (backward or anaphoric and forward or cataphoric) and deixis am Phantasma or fictional deixis (designating objects existing only to the extent that they are named or referred to). This trichotomy of the deictic universe representing ocular, textual, and fictional phenomena aims at engaging audiences in a significantly more profound level of interpretation. The degree of difficulty involved in this process depends on the referent. When it is _____________ 53

See Bühler (1990).

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close and visible, the audience can draw inferences with greater ease. The effort needed to comprehend this kind of interplay increases when the referent is distal in time and place, whereas it becomes even more difficult when it is fictional.54 Deixis operates on a twodimensional grid referring to time and space. Since I will deal with time separately (see the section on ʻTensesʼ), it will suffice to say that space is indicated by personal, deictic pronouns (a wider category than demonstratives), and adverbs. In the case of grave epigrams, the gnomic statement expressing a universally accepted, generalizing belief is inscribed on a monument, that is to say an object visible and directly perceptible by its future reader. Under this scope, spatial deixis plays a key role with respect to the localization of the focus of interest. The interplay, which may be adverbial (here/there), pronominal (this/that), or adjectival (this/that),55 determines the way readers are invited to comprehend the relation between a generalizing statement (expressed by the γνώμη) and an individualized reference pertaining only to the specific monument they are looking at. A comparison between three epitaphs of our corpus where different forms of spatial deixis are employed can be illuminating. In CEG 493 (ὅστις ἔπαινος ἄριστος ἐν ἀνθρώποισι γυναικῶν, | / Xαιρίππη τούτο πλεῖστον ἔχουσ’ ἔθανεν· | …), the designation of the deceased is in the third person, whereas in CEG 559 (εἴ τι δικαιοσύ[ν]ης ἆθλον τίθεται κατὰ γαίας, | Εὔφανες, οὐ χαλεπὸν τοῦδέ σε πρῶτα λαβε̃ν) the deceased is addressed in the second person. In CEG 595 (εἰ τὸ καλῶς ἔστι θανεῖν, κἀμοὶ τοῦτ’ ἀπένειμε Τύχη· | | ...), the deictic center is the ego of the dead man, who speaks from his grave. Despite the fact that all three epitaphs begin with a gnomic statement, they subsequently find recourse to divergent forms of spatial deixis. This difference is significant for the interpretation of the epitaph by a future passer-by who would stop and read the inscription. In CEG 493, the focal center of the speech-act is a nonparticipant, a third person, someone who is neither the ‘voice from the grave’ nor the reader. In this case, the valuable and generally applicable truth expressed by the maxim is presented to the reader in a rather impersonal, uninvolved manner. A statement is made concerning the deceased Chairippe, as if someone is relating or reporting to a passer-by something that must be made known. This is a case of what has been _____________ 54

55

For a recent and balanced presentation of the theory of deixis, see Felson (2004) 253-266, esp. 253-255. Felson (2004) 257. See also Labarbe (1968) 361.

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called a static locative,56 i.e. a communicative situation in which both interactive members (speaker and addressee) remain where they are, keeping the interpretive effort required by the reader to the minimum. As pointed out above, the audience is free to comprehend the maxim by giving the gnomic statement ὅστις ἔπαινος ἄριστος ἐν ἀνθρώποισι γυναικῶν a meaning that suits its own beliefs. Conversely, in CEG 559 where the zero point or origo is the audience ‘addressing’ the dead Euphanes, the reader is envisaged as an active participant in the speech-act, since it is he/she who speaks to the deceased at the very moment of reading the epitaph. By ‘addressing’ the dead Euphanes in the second person and subsequently assuming his/her ‘physical’ position as passer-by, the reader follows his/her regular centrifugal ablative form of displacement,57 i.e. he/she ‘moves’ towards the other end of the communicative spectrum, the youdeceased. This form of displacement engages the reader in anchoring the meaning of the preceding maxim to the conversational role he assumes while staging the epitaph. In this way, the reader will reconfirm in his own voice the awarding of the ‘prize of justice’ (ἆθλον δικαιοσύνης) to Euphanes. It is as if the fictive moment of awarding this prize to the deceased is verbally reenacted, when the reader bequeathes Euphanes with his/her performance of the epitaph. In CEG 595, where the deictic center is the deceased, the reader’s voice would, at the moment of reading the inscription, ‘transfer’ itself to the other end of the communicative spectrum, i.e. to the dead man who is presented as speaking. In this last case (Bühler’s term is centripetal allative),58 spatial deixis allows the composer of the epitaph to orchestrate a subtle communicative game, since the physical relation deceased-passer-by is not ‘translated’ into a conversational ‘deceased/grave-reader’ link but into a ‘deceased via reader’-reader relation. In other words, the reader is asked to assume at the moment of staging the epitaph the voice of the deceased. Under this parameter, the reader would be faced with an interpretive conundrum: is it possible for him to be at the same time a ‘staged-made speaking I’ and a silent ‘listening you’? It is exactly this twofold role the reader is invited to play because of spatial deixis that bears a special relation to the gnomic statement at the beginning of the epitaph. By assuming the position of the deceased during the staging of the inscription the reader is encouraged to assimilate notionally himself with the maxim _____________ 56 57 58

See Felson (2004) 260. Bühler (1990) 150. See Felson (2004) 260.

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the deceased utters at the moment of the performance. The staging therefore of the inscribed epitaph is, to a certain extent, a reperformance of the original funerary rite. In this way, the generalizing force of the gnomic statement would be even more effective, since the passer-by will as reader assume the very position of the deceased, he will ‘borrow’ his voice and express the general truth inherent in the maxim. One of the principal forms of spatial deixis used in the tenor following a maxim is the pronominal ‘this’ or ‘this here’: CEG 493 ὅστις ἔπαινος ἄριστος ... Χαιρίππη τούτο πλεῖστον ἔχουσ᾽ ἔθανεν˙ | CEG 520 χαίρετε· κοινὸν γὰρ ῥῆμα τόδ’ ἐστὶ βροτοῖς. | CEG 525 ὁ̃ σπάνις ἐστὶ … … τοῦδ’ ἔτυχεγ Γλυκέρα. CEG 559 εἴ τι δικαιοσύ[ν]ης ἆθλον τίθεται ... … τοῦδέ σε πρῶτα λαβε̃ν. CEG 575 ca. 6 [εἰ θέμις ἦν] θ̣νητὴν ἐναρίθμι|ο[ν Ó Ô˘Ô ο]υσαν ἀθανάταις | νο[μίσαι, σοὶ] τὸ γέρας τόδ’ ἂν | ἦν, CEG 595 εἰ τὸ καλῶς ἔστι θανεῖν, κἀμοὶ τοῦτ’ ἀπένειμε Τύχη· | CEG 600 εἰ τὰ θεῶν τιμᾶν̲ χ̲ρ̲ηστῶν τ’ ἔργων ἐπιθυμεῖν | καὶ τὸ δικαιόσυν[όν τε φίλο]ν τε φίλοισι προσεῖναι | δόξα ἀρετή τε βροτοῖς καὶ ἀνενκλήτως βιοτεῦσαι, | πάντα σὺ ταῦτʼ ἔσχες, Μ̲νησαρ̲χίδη̣, ἀπροφ̲ασίστως̲. CEG 603 εἰ δέ τις εὐσεβίας παρὰ Φερσεφόνει χάρις ἐστίν, | καὶ σοὶ τῆσδε μέρος δῶκε Τύχη φθιμένει.

The use of a deictic device pointing not to a visual feature of the monument or stele, but to the textual reality of the preceding maxim entails significant interpretive consequences for the reader. Contrary to oracular deixis, where space pertains to the concrete, observable extra-textual objects, in textual deixis localization takes place within

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the limits of the text, in our case the grave epigram. By employing textual deixis, the author expects from the readers to notice the anaphoric direction of the referent (the γνώμη) and to place themselves ‘within the text’. In order to ‘look’ at something that precedes in respect of textual order, readers need to place themselves within that very order, as if they are following a dictional iter and are asked to look back at something placed behind the point their eyes are focusing on. In this way, the maxim gains in vividness and force, it is presented as a tangible reality, as a fictive object that can be pointed at, as if it is has been metamorphosed from an abstract generalization into a concrete reality displayed to the audience. To this extent, the reading of the γνώμη coallesces with its viewing. Evaluative Terminology The use of evaluative terminology is not always included in the gnomic statement, but follows in the tenor that caps the maxim. This is consonant with the fact that the gnome functions in the epitaphs under examination as a foil or vehicle for the expression of a particular point concerning the deceased. In our corpus of inscribed epitaphs the majority of gnomic statements contain an evaluative statement expressed by an adverb. In CEG 493 and 603, the expressions πλεῖστον (μέρος) and μέρος respectively show the extent to which the aforementioned γνώμη is applied to the deceased. The generalization of the maxim is thus tagged to the particular departed commemorated in the epitaph. Moreover, the deceased women are covertly praised, as the evaluative adverb measures their lives and characters against the norm of wide acceptance, such as suggested by the gnomic statement. In CEG 559, 571 and 594, the evaluative mechanism is expressed in terms of order. The adverbial numeral πρῶτα (559) and the numeral adjectives πρώτει (571) and πρῶτον (594) bring forward a different form of praise for the deceased. While in the case of πλεῖστον (μέρος) and μέρος the evaluation was done in quantitative terms, here it is done qualitatively. The deceased is ‘presented’ to the readers of the inscription as the first among a group of people being in the same condition with them. In some cases, this qualitative highlighting of the departed is combined with a focusing on how they have embodied the content of the gnomic statement. Euphanes (559), therefore, is presented as the winner of the contest of justice (δικαιοσύ[ν]ης ἆθλον), in whose games he has easily (οὐ χαλεπόν) won the first prize (ἆθλον

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... σε πρῶτα λαβε̃ν). The conceptualization of the gnomic statement is hereby typical of the praising stategy of these epitaphs. Likewise, the nurse of Hippostrate (571) and Diognetos (594) respectively occupy the first place within the framework of fictive rewards attributed to them in their proper epitaphs. And what is even more important, while awarding prizes to the deceased by using athletic terminology, the anonymous composers of these sepulchral epigrams assume the same position as a poet like Pindar and Bacchylides, who have been assigned the composition of an epinicion for a winner in one of the Pan-Hellenic games. Pindar- and Bacchylides-like, the authors of these private epitaphs use gnomic statements as a foil for praising the deceased.59 Their use of athletic vocabulary must be seen under the light of a rivalry-imbued or comparison-oriented tendency inherent in the tradition of Greek lament, where the deceased seems to participate in a race for praise with other men.60 The evaluative expression of how the deceased has embodied the beliefs expressed by the gnomic statement can also be expressed independently, i.e. without any qualitative reference. In CEG 525, the word δοκίμως, which is often found in a lament context,61 results in the underscoring of Glykera’s ‘true’ embodiment of a rare female quality. The emphasis on the manner in which Glykera shared the content of the aforementioned maxim must be therefore seen not as mourning-inspiring because of her loss, but as consolation for having had such an exceptional life. Likewise, in CEG 600 the evaluative adverb ἀπροφασίστως, expressing the way the deceased Mnesarchides epitomized a whole catalogue of positive qualities listed in the preceding γνώμη, is brilliantly placed at the very end of the entire composition. Epitaph-completion and evaluative terminology are effectively orchestrated in order to praise the deceased. The glory and ἀρετή indicated in the grave epigram must, therefore, be given to Mnesarchides unhesitantly (ἀπροφασίστως), i.e. in the very same manner in which he had fulfilled the beliefs expressed by the lengthy maxim inscribed on his marble stele.

_____________ 59 60 61

See Bundy (1962) 28-29, 52-78. On Homer, see Tsagalis (2004) 36-39. See also CEG 594. It is used in a lament context in Aesch. Pers. (546-547: κἀγὼ δὲ μόρον τῶν οἰχομένων / αἴρω δοκίμως πολυπενθῆ) and in Attic funeral orations.

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Tenses The tenseless present and the gnomic aorist are the most frequently used tenses in the corpus of gnomic statements found in these epigrams.62 The former’s lack of fixed temporality (Zeitlosigkeit) may be continuing an old timeless present63 and may have retained something of the oldest authority of the proper present tense used in gnomic statements.64 The same is the case with the gnomic aorist,65 which has a timeless aspect66 and may have originated from moral statements placed at the end of fables from which they were separated at one point, only to be used independently at a later date.67 In Homer, the gnomic aorist is used “pour exprimer un procès typique et se trouve dans les sentences.” 68 Keeping these observations in mind it is not difficult to explain the interchange between timeless present and timeless gnomic aorist attested in the gnomic statements of our corpus. The γνώμη, as noted before, is “a generalizing statement about a particular action” and therefore, both the tenseless present and the gnomic aorist situate the action out of time giving to it an authority independent from timeconstraints and imbued with the prestige of an all-embracing reality. To that extent, gnomic statements seem to belong to a whole category of utterances which are characterized by their timelessness in the sense that they “function as generalizing experience and incorporating acknowledged cultural views of both the civilized and natural worlds.” 69 A private epitaph is, by its very nature, faced with a basic communicative as well as expressive problem, i.e. to bridge or overcome the gap between the singularity of a person’s death on the one hand, and the general appreciation that is wished for him and is effectuated by his permanent commemoration on the other. At first, one should bear in mind that the very commissioning of the building or erection of a funerary monument either in the form of a stele or base _____________ 62 63 64

65 66 67 68 69

Schwyzer and Debrunner (1950) 270. Schwyzer and Debrunner (1950) 270. Schwyzer and Debrunner (1950) 270-271. On the prevalence of independent clauses over secondary ones in the γνῶμαι of funerary epigrams, see Labarbe (1968) 361. Schwyzer and Debrunner (1950) 285-286. See Chantraine in GH II, 185. See Chantraine in GH II, 185-187. See Chantraine in GH II, 187. Martin (1997) 148-149.

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or the like covertly indicates the attempt to achieve a temporal permanence, i.e. a visual icon reminding people in the future of a specific deceased. Along these lines, the use of devices highlighting generalizations (like the γνώμη) must be seen as an effort to make the duality described above collapse. The epitaphs, as forms of commemorative speech, aim at resurrecting for any future reader the memory of the deceased, just as the monument with its decoration, sculpted parts and artistic embellishment aims at becoming a visible sign, able of attracting the interest of a future passer-by. This can be easily seen in the placement of funerary monuments in elevated areas, so that they would be easily observed. From this perspective, I would like to suggest that inscribed epitaphs and epic storytelling share an interesting analogy. As in Greek epic, “the epic event and the speech-event of the performance become in a real sense a unity”,70 so the commemoration of one’s death, on the one hand, and the complex of the inscribed epitaph and monument, on the other, form a unity. Since every sort of utterance presupposes the existence of an audience, it is reasonable to say that all utterances employ mechanisms allowing them to engage the audience in the process of a response. If epitaphs, then, employ gnomic statements (among other means) to entice a passer-by’s curiosity, it can be argued that they also make full use of the maxim’s typological features in order to engage their readers more deeply. By engaging readers ‘more deeply’, I am referring to a degree of involvement during which they would recognize in the inscribed text an experience familiar to their own lives. As in the case of Homeric similes the audience would listen to a situation belonging to the realm of common experience (a scene drawn from nature e.g.), so the readers of an epitaph would easily familiarize themselves with the beliefs expressed by a γνώμη. Moreover, both Homeric similes and maxims reflect in their use of tenses their attempt to highlight the event of the performance. The use of the present or the gnomic aorist, which are characterized by lack of fixed temporality, results in making the reader of an epitaph recognize familiar experience and common cultural views. In this sense, the timeless tenses of the γνώμη render it much more relevant for all future readers, especially when they offer a reading to an epitaph beginning with the almost guaranteed silent approval of the collective awareness of the community. In CEG 487 (πάντων ἀνθρώπων νόμος ἐ|στὶ κοινὸς τὸ ἀποθανε̃ν. : |), the present tense (ἐστί) underscores the everlasting value of the maxim. At the same time, it triggers a series of present tenses con_____________ 70

Martin (1997) 148.

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cerning both the ‘impersonal’ statements about the grave, name and mother of the deceased (ἐνθάδε κεῖται Θεοίτης παῖς | Tελέσωνος Tεγεάτας Tεγε|άτο / καὶ μητρὸς Nικαρέτης | χρηστῆς γε γυναικός. …) and the transition to a present-oriented verbalization of the dead man’s voice from the grave (χαίρε|τε οἱ παρι<ό>ντες, ἐγὼ δέ γε τἀ|μὰ φυ<λά>ττω). The fact that the deceased addresses the passers-by in the present implicitly confirms the previous interpretation. The use of an ‘anthropological law’71 common to all exercizes its influence on the rest of the epitaph. The individuality and singularity of Theoites’ death is thus joined to a general, sempiternal truth. Under this scope, the timelessness of the present tense of the gnomic statement culminates in the repetition of the deceased’s words by a future reader. The staging of the speech-act, thus, acquires a performative force, since the dead Theoites will speak to a future passer-by, every time the latter will stop and read the inscription. It is exactly at that moment, at the ‘repeated’ present of the performance, that the generalizing force of the initial maxim will be strongly felt. It will, after all, have the same relevance for every passer-by. In CEG 489 (τὸς ἀγαθὸς ἔστερξεν Ἄρης, ἐφίλησε δ’ ἔπαινος, | / καὶ γήραι νεότης οὐ παρέδωχ’ ὑβρίσαι· | ...), the aorists employed (ἔστερξεν, ἐφίλησε, οὐ παρέδωχ᾽, ὑβρίσαι) do not situate these events in the past but refer to a repeated, ever-lasting situation, namely that war and praise bestow love and favor on the agathoi and do not let them grow old and decay. The gnomic aorists of this maxim exercize an enormous influence on the aorist used in the ensuing verses of the epitaph in reference to Glaukiades’ passing away. In order to conjure the event of Glaukiades’ death from the past and make it alive for a future reader, the composer has not spared finite gnomic aorist verbs in the first couplet. In this way, the single aorist of the second distich (ἦλθ᾽) designating the particular death of Glaukiades can be easily drawn to the generalizing comment that is strongly expressed by three finite gnomic aorists in the first distich. Glaukiades seems to be ‘re-entering’ the all-receiving chamber of Persephone at the very moment a future reader would read the inscription and look at the anaglyphon portraying a farewell family scene.

_____________ 71

See Meyer (2005) 90.

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Particles Particles are not often employed in our extant corpus of gnomic expressions, since a significant number of gnomic statements (7/16, i.e. 43.7% ca.) are expressed by a secondary εἰ-clause. This syntactical ‘presentation’ of the maxims virtually annuls the use of any other confirmatory (τοι) or explanatory (γάρ) or antithetical (δέ, ἀλλά) particle. There is only one epitaph (CEG 520), where γάρ is employed, and this is actually a case with a ‘tag’-phrase, explaining the preceding gnomic statement. The particle καί, used twice in the gnomic statements of our corpus of epitaphs, functions like a ‘linchpin’ binding the maxim with its tenor, the individual reference to the deceased.72 In CEG 595 and CEG 603, καί links the generalization inherent in the maxim with the particularity of the specific deceased who is being commemorated. By focusing our interpretive lens, we are in a position to appreciate better the subtle technique of this device. Kαί is used as a focalization mechanism, since it sheds light on the gnomically relevant qualities of the deceased and not on any other aspect of his life. The use of this particle in order to draw the deceased into the realm of the gnomic statement is noteworthy, among other reasons because it seems to be rivaling the function of other quantificatory devices. In fact, πᾶς/πάντα and the like are mutually exclusive with καί, the more so since the latter ‘represents’ the individuality of the particular deceased, to whom the aforementioned maxim is especially relevant. Apart from being a mechanism that attributes emphasis, καί reflects the effort of the composer to bridge the gap between the generalizing force of the maxim and the particular deceased commemorated in a private epitaph. Kαί is closely linked to the use of a first-person dative, which we may call ethical. In CEG 595, although the dative κἀμοί in κἀμοὶ τοῦτ’ ἀπένειμε Tύχη is basically the indirect object, it may still have an ethical color; likewise, in CEG 603 with καί σοι in the expression καί σοι τῆσδε μέρος δῶκε Tύχη φθιμένει. From a communicative point of view, these ethically colored datives constitute indirect praise to the deceased as well as being a consolation device. If dying is the common fate of all men, and if Tyche has bestowed some piety (εὐσεβίας / τῆσδε μέρος) on the deceased, then the pain at the event of death is alleviated or at least diminished. The consolatory aspect of the gnomic statement is here well at work, since the individuality of _____________ 72

Denniston (19542) 293 observes that responsive καί “marks an addition to the content of the preceding context.”

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private pain is embedded within the larger framework of the γνώμη and, therefore, put into perspective. Style The preference of parataxis over hypotaxis is a typical feature of the gnomic statement, resulting from the maxim’s brevity, straightforwardness and conciseness. The simpler and shorter a γνώμη, the easier it will be diffused. Conversely, it is surprising that seven out of the sixteen (i.e. 43.7% ca.) gnomic statements attested in the corpus of fourth-century Attic epitaphs are expressed by an εἰ-clause.73 The percentage is very high, since it means that almost in half of all epitaphs, the γνώμη takes the form of a conditional clause. The gnomic statement could very well have been expressed by a main clause instead of a conditional. These εἰ-clauses do not delineate an alleged “hypothetical situation” 74 in the form of paradeigmata but rather designate a framework within which the maxim is placed. They aim at guiding present and future readers in interpreting the content of the epitaph. As in the case of prophecies where εἰ-clauses are also deftly employed as the oracle foretells the future, subject to certain conditions, so in these gnomic statements the composer of the epitaph is “tipping his hand”,75 indicating where his thought is going. In this light, we can see that the anonymous authors of these epitaphs take a firm posture towards both the deceased and the readers of the inscription. They seem less inclined to express a maxim as an uncontestable truth than to shed light on “necessary or probable causal relationships.” 76 In other words, they seem to suspend the truth of the maxim, just in order to provoke the readers’ adsent, and thus to strengthen its force. By endorsing a manner of thought based on conditional probabilities, these gnomic statements stress “the measure of order and regularity of events.” 77 In this respect, they function like a foil capped in the apodosis by an asseverative injunction of praise for the deceased. In the manner of a Pindaric laudandus the dead person, then, emerges imbued with the positive qualities advertised by the maxims.78 The transitional function79 of the maxim leading the rea_____________ 73 74 75 76 77 78

On εἰ-clauses, see Friis Johansen (1959) 69-71. See Lardinois (1995) 66 with bibliography. Peradotto (1990) 67. See Devereux (1968) 452 ff. I owe this reference to Peradotto (1990) 67. Peradotto (1990) 67. See also Ehnmark (1935) 75. Bundy (1962) 55.

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der’s attention forward to the epitaph’s nucleus is thus effectively enhanced by being expressed in the manner of a conditional probability. All εἰ-clauses of our corpus of maxims are expressed in the present indicative, a feature confirming that they refer to a ‘real’ situation. The εἰ-clause is, like the chain of negative expressions in the priamel, a foil for a particular point of interest to be made. But contrary to the priamel, where these negative statements are uttered only to be overthrown by the final, positive statement, in the case of the aforementioned εἰ-clauses the final statement reconfirms the validity of the preceding γνώμη and its application to a specific individual. By delineating a framework, such a ‘preparatory’ device situates the reader of the epitaph in respect of the beliefs and ideas against which the deceased will be measured. At the same time, we should draw a line between two broad types of gnomic foil, following the distinction Bundy has proposed in the case of maxims in Pindar and Bacchylides: the subjective and the objective.80 The former reveals the author’s stance towards his subject, while the latter results from the merits of the deceased who is treated like a laudandus in the epitaphs containing a gnomic statement. In our extant corpus of gnomic statements in fourth-century Attic epitaphs, there are three subjective maxims (CEG 487, 518, 520) and thirteen objective (CEG 489, 493, 525, 559, 571, 575, 577, 586, 593, 594, 595, 600, 603). The overwhelming majority of objective gnomic foils show clearly that the merits and qualities of the deceased stand at the center of the author’s attention. In conjunction with the placement of most of the gnomic statements in epitaph-initial position, it becomes evident that the merits of the dead person “substantiate the gnome and derive luster from it.” 81 On the other hand, ‘subjective’ filtering designates the reflection of the author’s point of view. The use of εἰ-clauses as a figure of speech is known from other funerary monuments from various places and periods. What is significant though is that only one of these monuments antedates the 4th century BCE.82 In other words, this form of expression virtually starts _____________ 79 80 81 82

Bundy (1962) 53. Bundy (1962) 28-29. Bundy (1962) 28. See CEG 95 (end of 5th century BCE): κεῖσαι πατρὶ γόον δούς, Φυρκία· | εἰ δέ τίς ἐστι | / τέρψις ἐν ἡλικίαι, τήνδε θανὼν | ἔλιπες. A check at Peek’s Register under εἰ-clauses (1960) 355 has given 14 examples of which five belong to fourth-century Attic funerary epigrams. Three of these five cases belong to maxims. To these three, two more must be added, one which was not known at the time of Peek’s edition and a second one with an εἰ-clause embedded in

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to be used in the 4th century BCE and, what is even more remarkable, almost all the examples of this early use come from Attica. It is therefore plausible to link this syntactical pattern to a certain Athenian practice occurring or finding its peak during the 4th century. Rhetorical practice seems a plausible hypothesis especially as the 4th century offers in the case of Attica a unique example, the Funeral Oration, that shares the thematic topoi of the funerary epigram.83 This might have been a good guess but one would be at pains to justify and explain why an examination of the entire corpus of funeral orations in fifth- and fourth-century Athens has not yielded any positive results. On the contrary, all the examples of conditional clauses attested there reproduce a famous topos exploited at length by this literary subgenre: the opposition between sacrificing one’s life but gaining a longlasting memory in the conscience of the community.84 This is, of _____________

83 84

a maxim that is not placed at the beginning of the epigram but at the beginning of the second elegiac couplet (Peek’s Register lists only Gedichtanfänge). See also Peek (1955) nos. 1686-1696. I am interested here in that form of εἰclause which Peek (1955) 505 labels ‘Wenn einer, dann dieser’, not in the ‘contrary to fact’ type (Peek 1955) 508-509, although what was said for the previous category is also valid for this one. The second category is excluded from our study because there is no example of this kind in our corpus of gnomic expressions. For a full list of εἰ-clauses in Greek funerary epigrams at large, see Citti, Degani, Giangrande, and Scarpa (1995) 104 s.v. εἰ. The similarities and differences between the well-known πολυάνδρια and the ἐπιτάφιοι λόγοι are nicely presented by Loraux (1981) 54-56. Here is the full list of conditional clauses in fourth-century funeral orations: Hypereides, Funeral Oration (6) 28: εἰ γὰρ [ὁ τοῖ]ς ἄλλοι[ς̣] ὢν ἀνιαρ[ότ]α̣τ ος θάνατος τούτοις ἀρχηγὸς μ̣εγάλων ἀγαθῶν γέγονε, πῶς τούτους ο<ὐ>κ εὐτυχεῖς κρίνειν δ̣ίκαιον, ἢ πῶς ἐκλελοιπέναι τὸν βίον, ἀλλ̣᾽ οὐκ ἐξ ἀρχῆς γεγονέναι καλλίω γένεσιν τῆς πρώτης ὑπαρξάσης; (34): εἰ μὲν γὰρ ἡδονῆς ἕν[εκεν μνημονεύουσιν τὰς τ̣οιαύτας καρτερίας, τί γέ[νοιτ᾽ ἂν τοῖς Ἕλλησιν ἥδ[ιον ἢ ἔπαινος τῶν τὴν ἐλευθερί̣[αν παρασκευασάντων ἀ[π̣ὸ τῶν Μακεδόνων; εἰ δὲ [ὠφελείας ἕνεκεν ἡ τοια[ύτη μνήμη γίγνεται, τίς ἂν λόγος ὠφελήσειεν μᾶλλον τὰς τῶν ἀκουόντων ψυχὰς τοῦ τὴν ἀρετὴν ἐγκωμιάζοντος καὶ τοὺς ἀγαθοὺς ἄνδρας; (42): εἰ γὰρ θρήνων ἄξια πεπόνθασιν, ἀλλ᾽ ἐπαίνων μεγάλων πεποιήκασιν. εἰ δὲ γήρως θνητοῦ μὴ μετέσχον, ἀλλ᾽ εὐδοξίαν ἀγήρατον εἰλήφασιν εὐδαίμονές τε γεγόνασι κατὰ πάντα. / Lysias, Funeral Oration (2) 78: εἰ μὲν γὰρ οἷόν τε ἦν τοῖς τοὺς ἐν τῷ πολέμῳ κινδύνους διαφυγοῦσιν ἀθανάτους εἶναι τὸν λοιπὸν χρόνον, ἄξιον ἦν τοῖς ζῶσι τὸν ἅπαντα χρόνον πενθεῖν τοὺς τεθνεῶτας. / Pl. Menex. 248b-c: εἴ τις ἔστι τοῖς τετελευτηκόσιν αἴσθησις τῶν ζώντων, οὕτως ἀχάριστοι εἶεν ἂν μάλιστα, …/ Demosthenes, Funeral Oration (60) 12: εἰ γὰρ ἁπάντων ἀμηχανώτατος ἦν ὅ τι χρὴ λέγειν πορίσασθαι, ἡ ᾽κείνων ἀρετὴ δείκνυσιν αὐτὴ … (19-20): εἰ δὲ θνητὸς ὢν τὴν εἱμαρμένην ἔσχεν, τῇ τύχῃ πέπονθε τὸ συμβαῖνον, οὐχὶ τὴν ψυχὴν ἥττηται τῶν ἐναντίων. See also Isocr. Evagoras (9) 2: ἡγησάμην Eὐαγόραν, εἴ τίς ἐστιν αἴσθησις τοῖς τετελευτηκόσι περὶ τῶν ἐνθάδε γιγνομένων, εὐμενῶς μὲν ἀποδέχεσθαι

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course, a completely different use of the conditionals from the one attested in the gnomic statements included in fourth-century Attic grave epigrams. Euripidean influence is a more probable scenario. Conditional probabilities reflecting skepticism about the world beyond and the existence of the gods are common in Euripidean tragedy (Hcld. 592-595; Her. 490-491; IA 1034-1035). Given the preeminence of Euripidean drama in both the 4th century and the Hellenistic period, it is highly likely that εἰ-clauses become common in fourth-century Attic epitaphs under the lasting influence of Euripides.85 A closer examination of the manner in which these εἰ-maxims are embedded in the dictional framework of fourth-century Attic grave epigrams may produce more promising results. Contrary to previous literary practice,86 second-person address occurs in 5 out of 7 εἰclauses, whereas first- and third-person addresses are attested only once in each case. I have previously suggested that the use of the centrifugal ablative form of displacement (with the reader as notional origo addressing the deceased) culminates in the reader addressing directly the deceased. In this conversational context, where proper-name vocatives introduce a personal tone and reveal the emotional involvement of the reader, the deceased is always addressed by his name in the vocative. Under this scope, it becomes increasingly plausible that εἰ-clauses are anchored to the specific communicational plan of these epitaphs. Grave epigrams stand on the verge between the public (since they are displayed in open space) and the private (most of the epitaphs of our corpus refer to individuals) but also between the literal and the oral. In particular, the use of gnomic expressions does not really make great sense, unless we assume the existence of an audience reading/hearing them. If this is the case, then the use of the εἰ-clause may have a special effect for the reader of the inscription in the sense that consolatory gnomic statements are presented as a possibility, whose ratification the reader is silently asked to confirm. In other words, the audience is first invited to go through a process of considering the value of the maxim, ascertain that its content is true, and then express itself the feeling of consolation by ‘tying’ this γνώμη to the particular deceased commemorated in the _____________ 85 86

καὶ ταῦτα καὶ χαίρειν ὁρῶντα τήν τε περὶ αὑτὸν ἐπιμέλειαν καὶ τὴν σὴν μεγαλοπρέπειαν… On Euripidean influence regarding εἰ-clauses in epigrammatic poetry, see Zumin (1975) 364-366. See the introductory survey concerning the use of gnomic statements in various genres preceding the 4th century BCE.

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grave epigram. Let us now examine some particular examples, in order to make this point clear: CEG 559 εἴ τι δικαιοσύ[ν]ης ἆθλον τίθεται κατὰ γαίας, | Εὔφανες, οὐ χαλεπὸν τοῦδέ σε πρῶτα λαβε̃ν. CEG 571 … εἴπερ χρηστοῖς γέρας ἐ̣στίν, πρώτει σοι τι̣[μα]|ί, τίτθη, παρὰ Φερσεφόνει Πλούτωνί τε κεῖνται.

A passer-by standing in front of the grave monument reads the epitaph (CEG 559): “if some prize of justice is placed down into the earth, [then] Euphanes, it was not difficult for you to receive it first.” When readers utter the εἰ-clause, they undergo a process of evaluating its content. This process is made even more emphatic because of the second person used in the tenor following the γνώμη. By addressing the deceased in the second person and using the vocative of his name, the reader performs a centrifugal ablative form of displacement, i.e. he constructs a staging of the event of reading, which becomes a speech-act with the reader becoming the speaker and the deceased the addressee. Under these parameters, the speaker (reader) positively evaluates the εἰ-clause and only then expresses his praise to the deceased. The stress he/she lays on the dead man’s praise (οὐ χαλεπόν, πρῶτα) must be interpreted in the light of his previous positive evaluation of the content of the εἰ-clause. The same is the case in CEG 571: while uttering the εἰ-clause, the reader thinks whether ‘there is indeed a γέρας for the χρηστοί’ and, since he/she gives a positive answer, he/she then is able to do what the epitaph states, i.e. to confirm that the highest honors be awarded to the deceased in the realm of Persephone and Pluto. Once more, the use of the second person address to the deceased is particularly effective. In this epitaph, we have reasons to believe that the reader is asked to assume the position of Hippostrate, the young girl who dedicates this grave epigram to her deceased nurse, Melitta. Given that this female reader, like any human, does not know whether there is a γέρας for the χρηστοί in the Underworld, it becomes all the more important that she does not hesitate to grant Melitta the highest honors in that world, in her effort to console herself for the loss of her beloved nurse. Since Melitta is honored in the chamber of Persephone, then the grief for her death is significantly soothened. The εἰ-clause used as a vehicle for maxims in these grave epigrams may be relevant to Aristotle’s view that maxims can be “the final part

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of the logical structure called the enthymeme.” 87 This view is probably connected to the argumentative force of the γνώμη, which makes its placement at the point of completion of a logical sequence particularly fitting, so that any audience or interlocutor can make full use of its persuasive force. Consisting of considerations that seek to persuade, the gnomic statement presupposes a process of testing by the listener, who would assess, evaluate, and endorse the maxim’s content. In fact, the extension and evolution of this part of the gnomic statement into a eulogy must be seen as a by-product of the approval of the maxim’s content. Wisdom-speech genres have been rightly recognized as performative.88 Performance has in this context the meaning of “an optional and impromptu creative response to an important social and psychological situation”,89 and may be seen as emergent. This socio-linguistic and folkloristic approach lays special emphasis on audience evaluation, verbal scrutiny and stylistic criticism of wisdom-speech.90 Successful evaluation of the gnomic statement (and subsequently the epitaph it belongs to) would entail a successful performance, for whose attainment the composer of the epitaph has offered to his reader specific staging guidelines, as I have argued above. Examined against this background, εἰ-clauses constitute a stylistically elaborate mechanism inviting readers to engage themselves in the process of evaluating and assessing the content of communal beliefs and norms inherent in maxims. In this way, the audience is expected to effectively endorse the recognized conventions inherent in the γνῶμαι and, by extension, the epitaph’s commemoration of a particular deceased.

Contextualizing the γνώμη Contrary to the standardized taxonomy of gnomological collections, maxims are contextually determined. Lemmatization and lexical meaning are often misleading principles for interpreting wisdom expressions since they form part of oral discourse and are, consequently, bound by rules pertaining to speech at large. This does not contradict the principles upon which the various γνωμολόγια are based, but rather delineates the limits of taxonomical collections of _____________ 87 88 89 90

I owe this observation to Russo (1997) 56. See Ar. Rhet. 1394a27-28. Russo (1997) 51. Russo (1997) 51. See Martin (1993) 115-119.

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γνῶμαι. What proverb and maxim collections highlight when they offer an interpretation of a wisdom expression is its base meaning. The base meaning must be then socially situated in order to acquire its performance meaning “which may be defined as that which emerges from the integration of proverbial (base meaning) and situational meaning (participant evaluation of situation plus interactional strategy).” 91 Contextualizing a maxim by embedding it in a grave epigram is a process much more complicated than it seems at first sight. Contextualization refers to creating a shared context, common to both ends of the communicative spectrum, depending “not on the assertion of facts or the expression of beliefs, but rather on interpersonal involvement.” 92 Gnomic statements belong to wisdom literature that is orally diffused and known to all members of a cultural community. 93 By forming integral part of a people’s shared cultural heritage maxims transcend boundaries and defy social segregation or political compartmentalization. At the same time, the generalizing character inherent in a gnomic expression has to be linked to the particularities imposed by the grave epigram’s specific commemoration. In order to study the contextualization of the gnomic statements of our corpus, we may consider certain social and cultural parameters in relation to the basic topoi employed by this form of consolatory gnomic statement. The Community of Death A recurrent topos is that suffering and death are common to all humans. Both CEG 487 (πάντων ἀνθρώπων νόμος ἐ|στὶ κοινὸς τὸ ἀποθανε̃ν) and CEG 518 (πᾶσι θανεῖν <ε>ἵμαρτα<ι> ὅσοι ζῶσιν) begin by using the same gnomic statement. The interpretation of this maxim by future readers is not context-free. On the contrary, it is determined by the way the audience of future readers will decode and comprehend certain parameters. In this case, the composers of the epitaphs themselves, in order to avoid or at least limit aberrant decoding, i.e. comprehension and subsequent interpretation by means of a different code from that used for encoding, offer their potential readers a con_____________ 91 92 93

Kirshenblatt-Gimblett (1973) 826. Depew (2000) 61-62. See Tzifopoulos’ remarks (1995) 169-177, (2000) 151-152 on the oral nature of proverbs and maxims.

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textually-dependent ‘reading guide’. After placing the gnome at epigram-initial position, the anonymous authors grant their readers valuable information pertaining to the oikos. In an almost similar manner, the composers give details concerning the deceased’s forefathers, mother, father, and wife. It becomes, then, clear that the reader is invited to use the initial maxim as a consolation device that is oriented towards the family of the deceased. The text of the epitaph, therefore, becomes a ‘reading-guide’ suggesting a social context within which the audience is expected to place and interpret the consolatory gnomic statement. Honoring the Deceased in the Underworld Death leads to the honoring of the deceased in the Underworld. In both CEG 571 and CEG 603 it is stated that the deceased will be either honored or receive recognition for being pious during her lifetime. 94 This is a stark form of consolation, since the excellence of the dead person is recognized even in a place beyond this very world. By endorsing such a viewpoint, the authors of these epitaphs aim at culturally contextualizing their audience. The reference to Persephone and not to Hades lies at the very heart of this process. Persephone, whose cult must have been very strong during the 4th century, has virtually replaced Hades in Attic epitaphs dating from the same period. By finding recourse to her, the composers of the epigrams ‘ask’ future readers to trace in the gnomic statement the same force of consolation the cult of Persephone (Demeter and Kore) was known to be replete with. In cases like this, it is easy to fall into the trap of over-interpretation. On the other hand, the audience’s reception of the aforementioned topos expressed by the maxim must be placed within the cultural context it belongs. To this extent, the cultural context triggered by the use of a specific gnomic statement is concomitant with the ʻreception aetheticʼ (Rezeptionsaesthetik) the author desires his audience to adopt. Controlling or directing the reception of the gnome95 turns out to be as significant as staging its performance.

_____________ 94 95

See also Dem. Funeral Oration (60) 34. On the Rezeptionssteuerung (the controlling of the reception) of gnomic statements, see Stenger (2004) 14, 20, 54, 263.

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Honoring the Dead The deceased has been praised in the world of the living. CEG 600 begins with an extended gnomic statement occupying the first three verses of the epitaph. (i) Μνησαρχίδης | Μνησάρχου | Ἁλαιεύς. (ii) εἰ τὰ θεῶν τιμᾶν̲ χ̲ρ̲ηστῶν τ’ ἔργων ἐπιθυμεῖν | καὶ τὸ δικαιόσυν[όν τε φίλο]ν τε φίλοισι προσεῖναι | δόξα ἀρετή τε βροτοῖς καὶ ἀνενκλήτως βιοτεῦσαι, | 4 πάντα σὺ ταῦτʼ ἔσχες, Μ̲νησαρ̲χίδη̣, ἀπροφ̲ασίστως̲. (iii) Μνήσιππος | Χαριταίου | Ἁλαιεύς. | Μνησ[αρχίδ]η̣[ς | ØØ | Ἁλαιεύς]. (i) Mnesarchides, son of Mnesarchos from Halai. (ii) If honoring the gods and desiring noble deeds and being just and dear to your friends and living a life free of indictment [is] glorious and good for mortals, you Mnesarchides have had all these things without disguise (= unhesitantly). (iii) Mnesippos, son of Charitaios from Halai. Mnesarchides […] from Halai.

The γνώμη has the form of a list of positive qualities in a man’s life: honoring the gods, desiring noble deeds, attaching justice and friendship to dear ones, living without blemish or accusation. The author attempts to define an aretalogy, which is presented as having a general force offering mortals (βροτοῖς) δόξα ἀρετή τε. He then links the socially and culturally constructed framework he has previously delineated to the particular deceased (Μνησαρχίδης) to whom the στήλη has been dedicated. In this case, he uses a twofold mechanism: a quantificatory device to the aretai (πάντα) he has mentioned in the three verses above and a deictic marker (σύ) to the direct addressee of the epitaph, Mnesarchides himself. Both of these markers function as connective devices with a double-binding role: they socially and culturally determine the nexus within which the gnomic statement expressed in the first three verses must be placed, and they subsequently draw it to the hic et nunc of the commemoration of the death of Mnesarchides. The consolation process takes here the form of an encomiastic confirmation referring not only to the range (πάντα) of the deceased’s aretai but also to the manner he had attained them. By insisting on both the quid and the quo modo of Mnesarchides’ praise, the epitaph creates for its audience a framework of social and cultural norms needed for its interpretation. In this way, the grave inscription for a single man is turned into a eulogy for all the ἀγαθοί, who can place themselves within the framework delineated by the inscription.

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Chains with Nested Maxims CEG 593 begins with a gnomic statement, which virtually annuls a topos of the Funeral Oration, i.e. the speaker’s inability to match the ἀρετή of the war dead with suitable words. In this epitaph, it is stated that the praise for the ἄνδρες ἀγαθοί is easily and abundantly available. Such a statement would have taken fourth-century Athenian readers by surprise, the more so since it may have seemed to them as a covert hint that the deceased had performed usual deeds and so it would be easy for a speaker to praise them.96 In order to avoid such annoying misunderstandings and ‘protect’ his audience of misinterpretations, the composer of the epitaph has accumulated two more maxims, aiming at helping future readers contextualize the initial γνώμη in the way he wanted them to do so. The first of the two ensuing maxims refers to the fact that the deceased Dionysios had the same fate with all other men who flock to the chamber of Persephone after their death, whereas the second one (third overall) draws a typical dichotomy between the mortality of the body and the immortality of the soul.97 Both of these generalized statements are clearly consolatory, since the former refers to the inescapability of death and the latter to the undying nature of a part of human existence. At the same time, they both create a particular cultural frame to which the first γνώμη must be anchored. After reading the two ensuing maxims, the potential reader is unlikely to misunderstand the first γνώμη. Dionysios belongs to the community of ἄνδρες ἀγαθοί, who will collectively receive abundant praise just as death and the immortality of the soul apply to all men collectively. By laying emphasis on Dionysios as a member of the community of ἀγαθοί, the author of the epitaph creates a specific cultural context for the interpretation of the initial maxim by his readers. The aforementioned case shows that gnomic statements were sometimes used within a complex setting. In this respect, the initial maxim is nested, since it is embedded within a larger foil exercizing its _____________ 96

97

See Fantuzzi (2008), who rightly observes that the initial distich functions as a kind of ‘introduction’ to the series of eulogies that follow. In this conception, the insertion of an extra metrum line with the name of the deceased and his father’s name between the two metrical parts of the epitaph and, in particular, between the maxims occupying the second and third distichs of the grave epigram becomes very important. It allows the reader to realize that the two gnomic statements flanking the extra metrum line are thematically related, since they both express consolation. See Pind. Olymp. 2.61-70, frs. 129, 130, 131; Hyper. Funeral Oration (6) 43.

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own interpretive ‘pressure’ on the contextualization of this γνώμη. Nested maxims are not frequent either in our corpus or in inscribed epigrams in general, because the epigram’s brevity did not allow gnomic statements to be enclosed within other gnomic statements but had to be immediately linked to the thematic nucleus of the inscription. Under this perspective, CEG 593 is a truly remarkable case, the more so since its extended (for both inscriptional and noninscriptional standards) length has allowed its composer to introduce, proem-like, a series of gnomic statements within which the initial, capital γνώμη is embedded.98 In this light, the interpretation of the initial γνώμη heavily depends on its being nested together with two more maxims. It is within this new context that the readers of the epitaph must explore the full meaning and function of the abundant praise bestowed on the ἄνδρες ἀγαθοί. The sequence of two maxims that inaugurate CEG 593 may also be studied in the light of sequences of other inscribed epigrams, which, despite their lack of gnomic statements, may help explore the idea of nesting more fully. Recently, Petrovic has drawn our attention on the three inscribed epitaphs about the battle of Thermopylae, which are all found in Herodotus’ Histories (7.228):99 …ἐπιγέγραπται γράμματα λέγοντα τάδε˙ μυριάσιν ποτὲ τῇδε τριηκοσίαις ἐμάχοντο ἐκ Πελοποννάσου χιλιάδες τέτορες. ταῦτα μὲν δὴ τοῖσι πᾶσι ἐπιγέγραπται, τοῖσι δὲ Σπαρτιήτῃσι ἰδίῃ˙ …ὦ ξεῖν᾽ ἀγγέλλειν Λακεδαιμονίοις ὅτι τῇδε κείμεθα τοῖς κείνων ῥήμασι πειθόμενοι. Λακεδαιμονίοισι μὲν δὴ τοῦτο, τῷ δὲ μάντι τόδε˙ μνῆμα τόδε κλενοῖο Μεγιστία, ὅν ποτε Μῆδοι Σπερχειὸν ποταμὸν κτεῖναν ἀμειψάμενοι, μάντιος, ὃς τότε Κῆρας ἐπερχομένας σάφα εἰδὼς οὐκ ἔτλη Σπάρτης ἡγεμόνας προλιπεῖν. …the words inscribed saying the following: “Once upon a time three million fought on this place against four thousand from Peloponnesus.” This was written actually for all of them, but for the Spartans was separately inscribed: “Stranger, tell the Lacedaimonians that here

_____________ 98

99

Interestingly enough, the deceased is addressed for the first time in the second couplet, i.e. after the initial gnomic statement occupying the epitaph’s first distich. See Petrovic (2007a) 56-57.

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we lie, obedient to their orders.” That for the Lacedaemonians and for their prophet as follows: “This is the gravestone (mnema) of the famed Megistias whom the Medes once killed after they passed over the river Spercheios— of the seer, who at that point knew very well that doom was about to fall, but could not find it in his heart to desert the Spartan leaders.”100

Petrovic rightly argues that this ʻmini-collectionʼ anticipates the practice of the Hellenistic age on the one hand, but diverges from the heavier interpreted burden put on the shoulders of a reader of a Hellenistic anthology. Since the context is given (Herodotus has just finished his long narrative on the battle of Thermopylae), he expects from his readers not to get involved in the game of supplementation (Ergänzungsspiel), but to rather engage themselves in evaluating the preceding narrative in comparison to the content of these three epitaphs. In this light, as Petrovic maintains, readers would no doubt have noticed the discrepancy between the actual Greek forces participating in the battle and those mentioned in the epitaphs. The complete absence of the Seven Hundred Thespians who, like the Three Hundred Spartans, never retreated from the battlefield, and the fact that the only person referred to by his name (the seer Megistias) was not from Peloponnesus (cf. the first of the three epitaphs that mentions only Peloponnesians) must have made any careful reader of Herodotus’ text “think of other Greeks who fought at Thermopylae and remained without mention.” 101 In a similar manner and despite the lack of any preceding narrative, the incipient sequence of gnomic statements aims at engaging the readers into an evaluating process. The composer of this epitaph may well have attempted to make his readers ʻcompareʼ the content of these maxims with what was already familiar to them from the practice of Funeral Oration, namely the well-known topos of the discrepancy between the erga of the deceased and the logos of the orator. Moreover, this series of gnomic statements displays the same principle of progressive individualization that is also observed in Herodotus’ aforementioned ʻmini-collectionʼ, where the first epigram commemorates all the Peloponnesians, the second the Spartans, and the third a single person (the seer Megistias from Acarnania). Likewise, the first gnomic statement occupying the epitaph’s initial elegiac couplet refers to all the ἄνδρες ἀγαθοί, whereas the second and third _____________ 100 101

The translation is that of Petrovic (2007a) 56-57. Petrovic (2007a) 57.

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maxims (placed at the second and third couplet respectively) are focused on the deceased Dionysios. In Herodotus, this progressive individualization is indicated by specific textual markers interspersed between the second and third epitaph (ταῦτα μὲν δὲ τοῖσι ἐπιγέγραπται, τοῖσι δὲ Σπαρτιήτῃσι ἰδίῃ and Λακεδαιμονίοισι μὲν δὴ τοῦτο, τῷ δὲ μάντι τόδε), whereas in CEG 593, it is effectuated by the repetition of the address to the deceased Dionysios in the second and third couplet.

Orational Maxims and the Vocality of the Performance102 “L’écrit est présent, le scripteur est absent.” 103 Svenbro’s phrasing is suitable to the very nature of reading aloud in Ancient Greece.104 In the case of inscriptions the scriptio continua and the prevalence of an oral-based culture had turned reading into a process of recognition (ἀνά-γνωσις).105 In particular, the vocality of the performance of a given text had become a prerequisite for its comprehension.106 Day has rightly emphasized the fact that “epigrams build the evidence of performance into their grammar: from the ubiquitous Ich-Rede of older dedications (“So-and-so dedicated me”) to the complex deictics of Ambracia (“these men…I…o citizens”),107 they are phrased as moves in speech situations.” 108 _____________ 102

103 104

105 106 107 108

I have borrowed the term orational from Robb (1983) 153. For Indo-European examples, see Martin (1984) 29-48. Martin (30) rightly argues that dictional similarities among passages in two different texts can be due to their sharing “a common genre, which generates the use of similar phrases in each place.” It is the orational character of proverbial expressions and gnomic sayings as forms of social speech and not their derivation from a common source that is responsible for common dictional patterns found in verbal manifestations of wisdom literature. Modern paroemiology has also emphasized the social aspect of proverbial expressions. See Seitel (1969) 143-161. Svenbro (1988) 53. Bing (2002) 44 has argued that “while readers may have been receptive to certain kinds of inscription as a result of cultural conditioning or personal inclination, it appears that they reacted to the great mass of such texts differently, or better: indifferently.” I side with Svenbro (1988) 56, Day (1989) 2628, Day (1994), Depew (1997) 239, 245, Day (2000), who have argued in favor of the ancient practice of reading aloud inscribed epigrams. See also Scodel (1992) 66; Kurke (1993) 146. See Labarbe (1968) 354. See Nagy (1983) 35-55. See Day’s analysis (2007) 30-31 of SEG 41.540A. Day (2007) 32.

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Like most wisdom-speech genres, the γνώμη contains certain oral features pertaining to its performative staging by speakers in real-time communicative situations.109 In Homeric epic, one of the basic features of gnomic statements is the generalizing τε. It has the force of something like “as it is known, as usual, as it is natural” and its role consists in indicating the way the gnomic statement is linked both to its immediate performance-based context as well as to its generalizing character.110 Given that the generalizing τε is absent from the corpus of γνῶμαι found in fourth-century Attic funerary epigrams, the γνώμη must be connected to its performance-based context by alternative dictional means. Within the extant corpus of gnomic expressions found in fourthcentury Attic funerary epigrams generalizing strategies are often carried out by quantificatory terms. Πᾶσι in CEG 518 aims at reminding future readers that they will also die at some point in the future, since this will be their own fate. Thus, if the epitaph was read aloud, then readers would at once recontextualize it, they would even see something of their own life reflected in it. This sophisticated strategy of ‘gaining a readership’, of attracting the attention of future passers-by would effectively explain the recurrent placement of the γνῶμαι in epitaph-initial position, since in this way the passer-by’s attention would have been more easily drawn. In CEG 520, where a maxim caps the initial address to the deceased’s friends, the singularity of the composition is effectively bridged with the eternity of the performance. In this conception, the use of the first-person plural might have been especially effective, the more so since it would have facilitated the ‘fictive’ approach between the deceased-internal speaker and the passer-by-reader of the epitaph.111 Deictic or anaphoric devices, ex_____________ 109

110 111

Both the proverb and the maxim constitute oral genres and are treated as such by modern paroemiologists. See Jason (1971) 619; Abrahams and Babcock (1977) 415; Norrick (1985) 12; Mieder (1993) 3-17. Lardinois (1995) 48 citing Ruijgh (1971) 2-3. See also Lardinois (1995) 49 n. 27; Denniston (19542): 520-536. On χαῖρε and χαίρετε, see Sourvinou-Inwood (1995a) 200-210. SourvinouInwood (205) explains the use of χαῖρε in CEG 522 and 655 by arguing that, although there is no indication whatsoever that the dead person may have belonged to some sect promising immortality in the form of heroization or deification, a fourth-century reader may have interpreted it as such. I would like to argue that the use of χαῖρε and χαίρετε within this context might well be an indication of the orality of these epitaphs. In other words, it would be quite effective if there were a reader, who would have uttered aloud the word χαῖρε/χαίρετε, covertly ascertaining that the dead person was somehow alive.

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pressed by personal and relative pronouns respectively, may be also seen as oral features pertaining to the vocality of the performance. The lack of personal pronouns used as deictic devices within the framework of the maxim depends on the fact that the γνῶμαι have a generalizing character independent of the present circumstances of the performance. On the contrary, the tenor referring to the particular event of the performance contains deictic or anaphoric devices bridging the distance between the temporal neutrality and spatial distality of the γνώμη and the proximity of the real-world situation. Consequently, re-performing the epigram (read aloud by any passer-by), thus re-contextualizing it in place and time, which means entextualizing it in the hic et nunc of the reader’s world, needed such deictic and anaphoric markers that would make this association possible. What is essential here is the effort of the author of the epigram not so much to make the γνώμη fit the textual exigencies of the epitaph as to render the maxim effective for any future audience that would read it. The anonymous composer had to encapsulate the gnomic expression in such a way that future readers would be able when reading it aloud to perceive it as a framework within which they could situate the lament for the deceased, the subsequent encomium and its relevance to themselves. Some examples may illustrate this point more clearly. A deictic device based on personal pronouns is used in CEG 603, where καὶ σοί implies that the gnomic statement εἰ δέ τις εὐσεβίας παρὰ Φερσεφόνει χάρις ἐστίν in verse 3 of the epigram refers to a general audience. The author of the epitaph first indirectly addresses, through the use of a maxim, the human community at large and then addresses an internal audience by making a separate reference to the deceased (καὶ σοὶ τῆσδε μέρος δῶκε Τύχη φθιμένει). Moreover, it is clear that the departed, Νικοπτολέμη, has left an immortal memory (μνήμην ἀθάνατον) of her ἀρετή to her husband, whereas she herself has received, even in the house of Persephone, from Τύχη some recognition for her respect (εὐσεβίας χάρις). Since χάρις designates in the case of ἀγάλματα “a reciprocal relation of pleasure and recognition between god and human dedicant…”,112 one could plausibly argue that this is also the case, mutatis mutandis, with grave epigrams. The deceased Νικοπτολέμη will give eternal ἀρετή to her husband while her love and respect for him (that is probably the meaning of εὐσέβια [sic] in this context) will be recognized in the Underworld. Thus, the deictic καὶ σοί displays and enacts the praise offered to the deceased. _____________ 112

Depew (2000) 60.

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The same is the case with CEG 595. The epitaph begins with a gnomic statement (εἰ τὸ καλῶς ἔστι θανεῖν) which adheres to the hic et nunc through the use of the deictic marker κἀμοί. Thus the generalizing statement of the maxim is attached to the personal fate of the deceased and since what the γνώμη expresses is a positive attitude towards death (in fact a καλὸς θάνατος), then the epigram (which is initiated by this device) becomes an encomium of the dead person.113 Tying the gnomic statement to the tenor may be also realized through an anaphoric device, which is expressed by a relative pronoun. The relative clause introduced by this pronoun modifies a term mentioned in the preceding gnomic expression. CEG 586 is a good example of this technique. By pointing to δικαιοσύνην in the preceding verse, the relative pronoun ἧς functions as a stepping-stone qualifying a part of the γνώμη and facilitating the transition to the central part of the epigram that is relevant to the specifics of the deceased’s commemoration. By doing so, the γνώμη is adjusted to its new context and the transition from the initially expressed generalizing tone of the maxim to the particular tone of the tenor is smoothly accomplished. The gnomic statement sets an ideological framework within which the encomium of the deceased has to be placed. The performative aspect of this technique is easily felt: the maxim becomes a stage direction to the reader who is asked to situate Daiokrates’ life within the realm of justice and, through him, to appreciate this true possession preserved for the selected few (παύροισιν). Likewise, as Daiokrates belongs to the few who have shared this ‘true possession of justice’, so the reader may also belong to the few who have grasped the true meaning of this εὐξύνετος Μοῖρα. In CEG 489, the relative pronoun ὧγ effects the placement of the deceased Γλαυκιάδης within the group of ἀγαθοί who are cherished by both Ares and praise and have died young, immune from old age. The maxim designates the terms to be used by the reader for interpreting the importance of the sacrifice of Γλαυκιάδης for his fatherland. At the same time, the syntactical transition from gnomic statement to tenor entails a noteworthy performative effect, since the reader is ‘asked’ to identify himself with Γλαυκιάδης and realize that although everyone is accepted in Persephone’s chamber (πάνδεκτον _____________ 113

In similar cases, the personal pronouns are employed as complementary devices that respond, so to speak, to the generalizing comment of the maxim that is often expressed by some form of the word πᾶς. CEG 518 (πᾶσι θανεῖν <ε>ἵμαρτα<ι> ὅσοι ζῶσιν, σὺ δὲ πένθος) is another typical example of this principle.

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Φερσεφόνης θάλαμον), nevertheless the encomium for the deceased is preserved only for the ἀγαθοί. Deictic and anaphoric devices are, therefore not simply used to link the maxim with the tenor of the epigram and effect a smooth transition, but to make a gesture towards the reader of the epitaph.114 By having an oral wisdom-speech sub-genre such as the γνώμη carry over to the genre of epigram its oral tone, it would be possible for the latter to ‘speak’ and represent every member of the community through the staging of a familiar and approved concept linked to an individual commemoration.

Expanded Maxims Only three of the γνῶμαι of our corpus are extended to two or three verses. It has been argued that this is also the case with other wisdom expressions like the paradeigmatic tale.115 In the case of Homeric maxims, Lardinois has convincingly shown that amplificatio plays an important role in strengthening an argument and is a typical tendency of the form of argumentation Homeric heroes employ.116 This is also the case with the maxims attested in our corpus. At the same time, the ability of the epigram’s author to elaborate and extend his thought speaks for the oral nature of wisdom expressions which are widely diffused and, consequently, familiar to the members of the community. The orality of the γνῶμαι becomes evident through the author’s freedom to alter and modify a maxim or create a new form as he tries to adapt it to the restrictions imposed by genre considerations pertaining to the epigram. The most striking example of this fact is IG II2 5501 = CEG 600 beginning with a maxim that extends to three verses and occupies the largest part of the grave epigram. There are, however, certain features which are clear traces of the orality characterizing this γνώμη: 1) the additive, paratactic style with the copulative conjunctions τε and καί and 2) the dictional idiosyncrasy observed in the hapax δικαιόσυν[ον.117 _____________ 114 115 116 117

On an equivalent argument in the field of Pindaric poetics, see Felson (2004) 388. See Lardinois (1995) 50, ft. 42. See Martin (1989) 206-230. See CEG 600, comment on verse 3 and West (1978) 245 ad v. 353. The metrical irregularity of the first foot of the dactylic hexameter in verse 3 having four syllables (δόξα ἀρε-) is of course an example of scriptio plena. See Threatte

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Opposition Antithetical constructions are often found in gnomic statements of our corpus: 1. The ‘hyperbolic style’ expressed by the ‘many-few’ polarization used in 586 CEG [π]ολλ[ο]ῖς ἀ<φ>νηὸν δαίμων βίον ὤπασε προῖκ[α], | / παύροισιν δὲ ἔτυμογ κτῆμα δικαιοσύνην and the πᾶς, πᾶσα, πᾶν device (IG II2 10435 = CEG 487: πάντων ἀνθρώπων νόμος ἐ|στὶ κοινὸς τὸ ἀποθανε̃ν. :| / CEG 518: πᾶσι θανεῖν <ε>ἵμαρτα<ι> ὅσοι ζῶσιν / IG II2 11974= CEG 577: [π]άντων ὧν θέμις ἐστὶ τυχεῖν εὐδαίμοσι θνητοῖς ´ | / IG II2 5501 = CEG 600: πάντα σὺ ταῦτ’ ἔσχες, Mνησαρχίδ`η̣, ἀπροφασίστως ). 2. The ‘positive-negative’ structure in IG II2 10998 = CEG 489 (τὸς ἀγαθὸς ἔστερξεν Ἄρης, ἐφίλησε δ’ ἔπαινος, | / καὶ γήραι νεότης οὐ παρέδωχ’ ὑβρίσαι) and IG II2 11169 = CEG 593 (ὀθεὶς μόχθος ἔπαινον ἐπ’ ἀνδράσι τοῖς ἀγαθοῖσιν | ζητεῖν, ηὕρηται δὲ ἄφθονος εὐλογία). Antithetical thought is a typical characteristic of lament speech in general and has a long tradition in Greek culture from Homer down to modern times.118 It is expressed by both dictional (like those described above) and thematic elements (life and death, past and present etc.). This binary tendency is also at work in epigrammatic poetry and, especially, in funerary inscriptions of the 5th and 4th centuries.119 Antithetical expressions are also typical in wisdom literature at large, especially in proverbs120 and maxims and are also at home in Attic funeral orations.

_____________

118 119

120

(1980) 424, who notes: “… the failure to indicate elision where demanded by the meter, scriptio plena, is frequent at all periods. There are ten instances in nine sep. monuments and dedications earlier than 500 B.C., and the phenomenon is especially common in the fourth century B.C. and the second century A.D, a fact to be attributed to the larger number of metrical texts (usually sep. monuments, less often dedications) placed within these centuries. It is by no means rare to find elision indicated in one place and scriptio plena in another; this inconsistency is common at all periods.” Elision is used by the same engraver, as indicated by τ’ ἔργων in verse 1 and by ταῦτ’ ἔσχες in verse 4. See Alexiou (20022) 150-160. See Lausberg (1982) 137-145; Skiadas (1967) 79-82; Pircher (1979) 24 ff.; Lattimore (1942). See Russo (1983) 121-130.

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Mnemonic Devices121 The orality122 of gnomic expressions is duly observed in the fact that they are replete with mnemonic devices facilitating their memorization by the members of the community. Oral forms of wisdom literature (the proverb is probably the most typical example) show a high degree of various phonetic mechanisms that have been developed in parallel with the crystallization of proverbial expressions. Here follows a list with some phonetic mechanisms used in the gnomic statements, which are attested in fourth-century Attic grave epigrams. 1) alliteration and assonance: δικαιόσυν[όν τε φίλο]ν τε φίλ οισι προσεῖναι (CEG 600) 2) simple and syllabic assonance: εἴ τις τῶν ἀγαθῶν μνείαν ἔχε ι ἐν δορὸς ἀλκε ῖ, | / πρῶτον κρίνων (CEG 594) εἰ δέ τις εὐσε βίας παρὰ Φερσεφόνε ι χάρις ἐστίν (CEG 603) 3) word-selection based on the alliterative effect caused by the repetition of the same letter: πάντων ἀνθρώπων ν όμος ἐ|στὶ κοιν ὸς τὸ ἀποθανε̃ν . :| (CEG 487) πᾶσι θ ανεῖν …, σὺ δὲ πέν θ ος (CEG 518) εἴ τ ι δικαιοσύ[ν]ης ἆθλον τ ίθεται κατὰ γαίας (CEG 559) ὀθεὶς μόχθος … ἀγαθοῖσιν /… ἄφθονος εὐλογία· | (CEG 593) δόξα ἀρετή τε βροτοῖς καὶ ἀνενκλήτως β ιοτεῦσαι | (CEG 600) 4) Parallelismus membrorum based on a binary structure creating rhythmical balance:123 (a) [π]ολλ[ο]ῖς ἀ<φ>νηὸν δαίμων βίον ὤπασε προῖκ[α] = dative + acc. … + acc. + verb ~ παύροισιν δὲ ἔτυμογ κτῆμα δικαιοσύνην = dative + acc.+ acc. (b) τὸς ἀγαθὸς ἔστερξεν Ἄρης ~ ἐφίλησε δ’ ἔπαινος = acc. + verb 1 (ἔστερξεν)/ {acc.} + verb 2 (ἐφίλησε) + nom. 1 (Ἄρης)/ nom. 2 (ἔπαινος). _____________ 121 122

123

See Lardinois (1995) 53-54. Phonetic devices of the sort described in this section are also found in proverb-like expressions from Egypt and the Near East. See Robb (1983, 153). For Indo-European examples, see Martin (1984) 29-48. See also Lardinois (1995) 55 n. 70. See Russo (1983) 124-125; Lardinois (1995) 53-54.

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Meter It has been argued that proverbs (παροιμίαι) and gnomic expressions (γνῶμαι) would be traditionally expressed by a special metrical form, the paroemiac (versus paroemiacus).124 The validity of this hypothesis would be of great importance but is inextricably connected with one of the most debated issues in the history of ancient Greek meter, namely the origin of the dactylic hexameter. Even a brief survey of the literature concerning this question and a presentation of the current state of the problem would take us very far from our main task. Instead, I would propose to concentrate only on the maxims contained in our corpus and refer to questions pertaining to the dactylic hexameter en passant. Certain γνῶμαι or parts of them (attested in fourth-century Attic grave epigrams) occupy what is known as the paroemiac, namely the part of the hexameter verse from the third foot caesura (either the penthemimeral or the trochaic) to the end, whereas others fill the metrical slots of the initial ἡμιεπές of the dactylic hexameter: Paroemiac (Ô | Ó  | Ó  | Ó Ó) or (Ó | Ó | Ó | ÓÓ): χρηστῶν τ’ ἔργων ἐπιθυμεῖν φίλον τε φίλοισι προσεῖναι καὶ ἀνενκλήτως βιοτεῦσαι παρὰ Φερσεφόνει χάρις ἐστὶν μνείαν ἔχει ἐν δορὸς ἀλκεῖ Hemiepes (Ó Ô˘Ô | Ó Ô˘Ô | Ó) or (Ó Ô˘Ô | Ó Ô˘Ô | Ó Ô): πᾶσιν θανεῖν εἵμαρται πάντων ὧν θέμις ἐστὶ

According to one of the most prominent theories concerning the origins of the dactylic hexameter, this verse has evolved from the combination of an initial hemiepes (occupying the first part of the verse from the beginning to either the penthemimeral or the trochaic caesura) and a paroemiac or enoplius.125 _____________ 124

125

Most notably Nagy (1971) 731; Pellizer (1972) 24-37; Fernández Delgado (1982) 151-173. The hemiepes can be either regular (D) or extended (D Ô). See Russo (1999) 345. This is known as the ‘coalescence-hypothesis’ (Russo 1999, 344) and has been greatly supported by Gentili-Giannini (1977) 7-52 as well as by West (1982) 35. There is also a rival theory claiming that the dactylic hexameter has originated from the expanded pherecratean with the internal insertion of dactyls. For this aeolic theory, see Nagy (1974); Berg (1978) 11-36.

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Proverbial and gnomic expressions are sometimes expressed by paroemiacs but they are also found in other metrical forms, not to mention stylized prose. Lardinois has argued that there was no traditional meter associated with gnomic expressions126 but this does not mean that wisdom expressions did not enjoy an independent status as an oral folk genre.127 It is more likely, though, that wisdom expressions such as proverbs and maxims were conditioned by meter than vice versa. In other words, gnomic expressions may have been adapted to the metrical rules imposed by the specific genre they were commonly attested in. In this light, the dactylic characteristics of a large number of gnomic statements and proverbs are the by-product of their ample use in hexametric poetry.128 The question concerning the authorship of grave epigrams is extremely fascinating, for in this particular case we might get a glimpse at a sub-genre (the funerary epigram) in its original setting (carved on a stone and read aloud by a passer-by), not within a literary context, as is the case with the work of a professional author (like the collections of epigrams composed by literary poets of the Hellenistic and Imperial periods).129 This intriguing problem has not yet found its definitive solution, since many different factors have to be taken into account (pertaining to various disciplines, such as archaeology, philology, and epigraphy) making the whole matter hard for a single professional to grasp. Moreover, the amount of incertitude concerning the various levels of the entire process, from the commissioning of the funerary monument by the family until its erection and setting in the public _____________ 126 127

128

129

See Lardinois (1995) 55 and especially n. 72. Russo (1999) 345 speaks of a “common use of the paroemiac for proverbial expression independently of hexameter poetry” which is documented in the collections of von Leutsch and Schneidewin (1839, 1851) and Strömberg (1954). On the other hand, there are also examples in the same proverb collections where the paroemiac is not used. Labarbe (1968) 353-354 argues that the dactylic rhythm of the epigram offered ideal conditions for accommodating what had been expressed in dactylic verse in Greek epic. See Day (1989) 16-28; (2000) 37-57, especially 37-38. Day argues that genreclassification should not be solely based on structural and thematic features but also on performative effects. By applying Day’s approach of dedications or ἀγάλματα to funerary epigrams we can plausibly argue that reading aloud the inscribed epitaph while looking at the relief would have led to the performance of specific acts pertaining to lamenting the dead. If ritual, as Day (38) says, “is defined functionally as the production of such effects”, then the generic force of reading a funerary epigram would equal the activation of a ritual process which would, in fact, be repeated every time a passer-by would stop and read the epitaph.

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cemetery or in a family-enclosure, is irritatingly high with the result that many ungrounded assumptions are often made. The present study does not have the over-ambitious goal to pretend to know the answer to this intriguing problem. Its aim is a rather modest one: taking under consideration certain key-aspects of this matter, we will attempt to use certain γνῶμαι found in our corpus as supporting evidence indicating a likely interpretation of some of the ambiguites and/or paradoxes connected to the issue at hand. Clairmont seems to take it for granted that metrical epitaphs inscribed on stones were drawn from copybook-texts, available to the engraver who would use them according to the occasion.130 The same stance seems to be also taken by Bing and Lougovaya. In the latter’s own words:131 What perhaps happened in the fourth century was that inscriptional epigrams were collected for circulation as reading material for pleasure, as opposed to earlier professional use by stone-cutters.

The main arguments in support of this theory are: (a) the existence of a fourth-century collection of inscribed epigrams, the Ἐπιγράμματα Ἀττικά132 by Philochorus;133 (b) the possibility that the Sylloge Simonidea compiled by Simonides himself may have existed already in the 5th _____________ 130

131 132 133

According to Clairmont (1970) XVIII, there are 392 figured gravestones from the larger part of the Greek world, of which 92 date before 300 BCE and in particular 60% of them were found in Attica. He also argues about the prominence of Attica in respect of the combination of a funerary monument accompanied by an epigram (XVIII-XIX): “Considering the restricted geographical area of Attica in comparison with the other territories, one is entitled to say that from the time of Solon throughout the 6 century, and also later in the late 5 and 4 centuries, it was Attica which fostered the combination of epigrams and figured scenes as a distinct specialty.” Lougovaya (email 9/12/06) quoted by Bing and Bruss (2007) 6-7 n. 26. See Suda s.v. Φιλόχορος Φ 441 Α d1 = FGrHist 328 test. 1. On Philochorus’ sylloge, see also Fantuzzi (2002) 403 and n. 47 = (2004) 297 and n. 45. Other early collections of inscriptions are: (a) the Ψηφισμάτων Συναγωγή by Craterus, ca. the end of the 4th century (see Higbie 1999, 43-83); (b) the περὶ ἐπιγραμμάτων by Neoptolemos from Paros (see Petrovic 2007b, 92-93 and n. 14); the Ἐπιγράμματα Θηβαϊκά by Aristodamos, a student of Aristarchus in the 2nd century (see Petrovic 2007b, 94); the περὶ τῶν κατὰ πόλεις ἐπιγραμμάτων by Polemon of Ilium in the early 2nd century (Fantuzzi 2002, 403 = 2004, 297; Petrovic 2007b, 95). Wade-Gery (1933, 71-104) has suggested that Aeschines’ citation of the so-called Eion epigram is based on his knowledge of a collection of epideictic war epigrams compiled as early as the 5th century. On this topic, see now Petrovic (2007b) 95.

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century;134 (c) the fact that “the collection known as the pseudoAristotelian Peplos, which contained epitaphic couplets on mythical heroes (in addition to prose genealogies and information about the forces under their command), was a pre-Hellenistic compilation.” 135 The underlying factor in this sort of argument is that since the compilation of collections of inscribed epigrams seems to have begun life in the classical period, it is likely that “common formulae among early epigrams suggest that copybooks (or pattern books, as they are also called) may have existed early on, and that these circulated among sculptors and stone-cutters.” 136 The copybook theory is undoubtedly valid, the more so since circulation of collections of inscribed epigrams would have made them available to a wider public and would have probably become “a source of emulation.” 137 In this light, the repetition of phrase-patterns, expressions and diction may well have been the result of the diffusion and use of epigrammatic collections like that compiled by Philochorus. Still, certain problems remain. Firstly, the copybook theory fails to account for the low rate of correlation between reliefs and Attic funerary inscriptions, and secondly it is unlikely that the member(s) of the deceased family who commissioned the erection of a stele would rely on the use of epigrammatic collections by sculptors and stonecutters. Such a process seems to me a rather remote scenario. It is more likely that we are dealing with a rather blurred situation. Some inscribed epitaphs might have been composed by family members, whereas others by professionals who specialized in the composition of epigrams. The high cost of funerary monuments speaks for the social status of the family, which means that since the expenses were so high, only middle and upper classes were able to finance the erection of a memorial. Consequently, educated family members would be able (not because of lack of financial resources) to compose their own epigrams and dedicate them to those dear ones who have passed away. This is, of course, an indication of a likely course of events, not definitive proof. But, at least, we are in a position to know that there is no logical obstacle to the possibility that common middle and upper class Athenians composed their own fu_____________ 134 135 136 137

Sider (2007) 113-130. Gutzwiller (2008) forthcoming. Bing and Bruss (2007) 6-7 quoting a suggestion made to him by J. Lougovaya. Bing and Bruss (2007) 7. See also Petrovic (2007b) 93-98, who draws attention to the fact that early collections of epigrams were compiled on the basis of either epichoric interests (mythology and history of the various Greek cities) or personal-authorial criteria.

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nerary epigrams for their beloved ones. On the other hand, at least in the 5th and early 4th century some inscribed epitaphs were no doubt composed by professionals138 with the use of copybooks. According to this scenario, a member of the deceased’s family would have supplied the professional epigrammatist with certain details pertaining to the life of the departed person who would be commemorated, and then commissioned the composition of an epitaph more or less in the manner of commissioning the erection of a stele or funerary monument. This theory is not at odds with the problem of the discrepancy between the relief and the epitaph, for it postulates the commissioning of both a monument and an epitaph, which would explain the low ratio of correlation between relief and inscription. The significant increase of diction indicating “authorial awareness and the epigram’s literary pretension” 139 is an argumentum ex silentio supporting professional authorship by skilled τεχνῖται.140 One of the most significant parameters of this problem concerns the determination of the stage during which the epigram would be inscribed on the memorial. This is an important question because it is associated with the low rate of correlation between representation on the relief and content of the epigram. If the engraver himself or the person responsible in the workshop for the entire memorial drew the epitaph from a copybook containing collections with funerary epigrams, then he would have selected from his catalogue a metrical epitaph that would match the representation on the relief or he would have sculpted a relief based on the epitaph he had chosen. On the other hand, if a member of the deceased’s family composed the epigram or if two separate professionals (a sculptor and a poet) belonging to different workshops or guilds or working independently were involved in the process of erecting a monument with an epitaph inscribed on it, then one need not wonder about the lack of correlation between relief and epigram. This line of interpretation is consonant with the fact that we have plenty of cases where the letter quality is bad, there are peculiar spelling mistakes, certain verses don’t scan, there is a lack of space for carving the inscription and, last but not least, there is a suspicious divergence between a nicely made relief and a cursorily carved inscription. _____________ 138

139 140

Petrovic (2007a) 64 draws attention to Euripides’ (Tro. 1188-1191) early mention of a poet (μουσοποιός), who was involved in the composition of an inscribed epitaph. Petrovic (2007a) 65. See Petrovic (2007a) 64-67.

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The key-factor is here that, in all probability, the epigram was composed sometimes by a family member or by a professional τεχνίτης separately from the engraver and sometimes later than the completion of the monument. I will now present a case study where there is clear evidence that the grave epigram has been composed by the friends or family of the deceased. This example is offered by IG II2 8388 = CEG 596 and refers to a funerary epigram engraved on a relief dating from the 4th century BCE (ca. 350 ?).141 The complete text runs as follows:142 (i)

Ἀντίπατρος Ἀφροδισίου Ἀσκαλ̣[ωνίτης]. | Δομσαλως Δομανω Σιδώνιος ἀνέθηκε

(ii)

| ‫[ כן עכדעשתדת אשקלבי‬.] ‫אנך שמ‬ .‫אש יסבאת אבך דעםצלח כן דעםחבא צדבי‬

(iii) μηθεὶς ἀνθρώπων θαυμαζέτω εἰκόνα τήνδε, | ὡς περὶ μέν με λέων, περὶ δὲγ πρῶιρ’ <ἰ>γκτετάνυσται· | ἦλθε γὰρ εἰχθρολέων τἀμὰ θέλων σποράσαι· | ἀλλὰ φίλοι τ’ ἤμυναν καί μου κτέρισαν τάφον οὕτηι, | οὓς ἔθελον φιλέων, ἱερᾶς ἀπὸ νηὸς ἰόντες· | Φοινίκην δʼ ἔλιπον, τεῖδε χθονὶ σῶμα κέκρυνμαι. (i)

1 4

Antipatros, son of Aphrodisios from Askalon. Domsalos, son of Domano, from Sidon made the dedication.

(ii) I (am) Shem [.], son of ƁD‛ŠTRT (Abdashtart), the Ascalonite. (This is the stele) which I, D‛MṢLḤ (Domseleh), the son of D‛MḤN‛ (Domhanô) the Sidonian, erected. 143 (iii) Let no man wonder at this image that on one side of me depicts a lion and on the other side of me depicts the prow of a ship. For the hateful lion came, wishing to destroy my things, but my friends warded [the lion] off and buried me here in this tomb, the [friends] whom I loved and for whom I wished, as they departed from the sacred ship. I left Phoenicia and I, a body, am buried in this land.144

_____________ 141 142 143

144

See Clairmont (1970) 114-117. Stager (2005) 427-449 offers an exhaustive and convincing analysis of this inscription. Donner and Röllig (19662) 13 n. 54 (vol. I), 70 n. 54 (vol. II). I owe this information to Clairmont (1970) 114-115. I have followed Stager (2005) 429. Translation by Stager (2005) 436.

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57

In his recently published discussion of this epigram, Stager has argued for the cultural duality of the deceased and has even recognized two audiences of implicit addressees, one of the Phoenician community in Athens and Piraeus, for whom the lion and prow imagery would have made sense, and a second one of Greeks, for whom the imagery would have been largely or even completely incomprehensible.145 In fact, the initial phrase μηθεὶς ἀνθρώπων θαυμαζέτω εἰκόνα τήνδε would have referred to the epitaph’s Greek readers. The author, in all probability, took it for granted that the representation on the relief (εἰκόνα τήνδε) would not be understood by its Greek viewers, since a κλίνη with the body of a man upon it was indeed an unusual theme.146 This unusual representation has no parallel in grave monuments of fourth-century Attica and could not have been made without the instruction of the Sidonian Δομσαλώς.147 That is exactly why he wanted to explain to all viewers the content of the relief. Stager rejects previous literal interpretations of the stele and argues that the εἰχθρολέων mentioned in the epitaph is nobody else than the ‘Queen of Heaven’, a metaphor for Astarte’s divine malevolence, who killed Antipatros, while being on board.148 The mistakes or disfluencies displayed by the epitaph are not among those usually found in grave epigrams of the same period. Kretschmer was right to argue that this epigram shows certain irregularities, which speak for its “ungriechische Abkunft”.149 In this light, _____________ 145

146

147

148 149

Stager (2005) 427-449. The very narrative of the epitaph with a speaking ‘I’ points to the bilingualism of both dedicator and deceased. This is how Clairmont (1970) 115-116 describes the relief: “A lion from the left and a headless human being from the right are bent over the figure on the kline. The lion stands on his hind legs; his forelegs are on the matress, embracing the man’s head tightly; the animal’s head, right above the victim’s head, was probably turned frontally towards the viewer; it is clear that the lion was meant to be shown vigorously attacking his prey. The human being is bent over the man’s lower body; head and arms were never represented; the bow of a ship with high curving prow takes their place.” On the imagery of the prow curved in the relief and its relation to Phoenician religious beliefs, see Stager (2005) 435. See Fantuzzi (2002) 439 = (2004) 330, who points to an epigram by Antipater of Sidon (AP 7.425 = HE 380) beginning in the same way and argues that “the stele for Antipater the Ascalonite is merely the only example from mainland Greece of an Oriental tradition of symbolic sepulchral monuments, which to some extent anticipates the custom of Hellenistic sepulchral enigmas.” Stager (2005) 439-443. Kretschmer (1894) 233 addendum ad 116. I owe this reference to Clairmont (1970) 114-115. Clairmont (1970) 115 is wrong to argue that this is simply bad

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the verbal obfuscation of the epigram’s Greek text as exemplified by its metrical, grammatical and syntactical clumsiness elides the possibility that the composer of the epitaph was a professional author of copybook-texts. Conversely, it is a covert but rather strong indication that Δομσαλώς had himself tried to write in Greek or rather ‘translate’ from a notional Phoenician text he had in mind, as it is often the case with people who translate from their native language into a second language. So in this case, we can plausibly argue that this grave epigram has been composed by the Sidonian Δομσαλώς, who also dictated to the engraver the Phoenician text we find in the inscription.150 It is extremely unlikely that a native Greek engraver could have made on his own these, otherwise unattested and unparalleled, mistakes. The example mentioned above shows that family members could very well have composed grave epigrams for their dear ones. Now it is time to see how and to what extent gnomic expressions can help us determine the authorship of certain epigrams. It is needless to say that by authorship we are here referring to the question we have initially set, namely whether the epigrams were composed by members of the deceased’s family or were derived from copybook-texts. The placement of the gnomic expressions at the beginning of the grave epigrams as well as the use of unmetrical maxims (like πάντων ἀνθρώπων νόμος ἐ|στὶ κοινὸς τὸ ἀποθανε̃ν IG II2 10435 = CEG 487) indicates that the composer of the epitaph wanted, ‘at all cost’, to insert a γνώμη in the epigram. The anonymous authors were not interested in technical matters such as metrical impeccability, since their concern was to place an attractive expression at the epitaph’s beginning. By attractive expression I am referring to a phrase familiar to the average viewer or passer-by. Thus the private στήλη commemorating the loss of an individual would acquire, through the use of a gnomic expression, an all-embracing importance. Transcending the limits imposed by the socially trivial position of the deceased, the maxim, expressing a generally accepted truth about human life or the terms of human existence, would have resulted in generalizing the particulars of a specific commemoration and subsequently emphasize the wide importance of the entire epigram. Viewed from this vantage point, the use of consolatory maxims aiming at alleviating the pain of the living has resulted in a noteworthy decrease of the vocabulary of grief used for lamenting the dead. _____________ 150

poetry. The kind of mistakes we find here are clear examples of bad Greek, not bad poetry. See Stager (2005) 445.

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59

What is particularly interesting with respect to our investigation is that the exclusion of any form of extreme manifestation of mourning and grief reflects not simply an epigraphically attested phenomenon but a real social event, as indicated by earlier Solonian legislation. In other words, we know from historical evidence that restrained forms of mourning in funerals had been implemented by specific legal measures in Athenian society for a considerable amount of time before the 4th century BCE, and that the prevalence of consolatory gnomic expressions in the epitaphs of our corpus has ‘erased’ any stark manifestation of grief, of the sort we are familiar with from Greek tragedy. In this light, it becomes a tentative hypothesis that the consolatory expressions used in the epitaphs of our corpus may also reflect a ‘real’ ritual feature of the funeral and lamentation of the dead, as is the case with the ‘absence’ of extreme expressions of grief. After all, the natural result of the aforementioned prohibition would have been the shift of emphasis from grief to consolation. Rossi151 has even maintained that we cannot a priori dismiss the possibility that the elegiac meter was used for restrained lamentations forming part of the funeral ceremony. In this respect, the case of Simonides is worth mentioning. The celebrated poet employed, according to the Suda (s.v. Σιμωνίδης 439, iv 361 [Adler]), variant metrical forms to commemorate two famous naval battles of the Persian Wars (lyric for Salamis, elegiac for Artemision). Aloni explained this paradox by suggesting that Simonides composed for the same events different poems pertaining to distinct forms of performance, destined to be sung in different occasions, places, and times.152 Rossi did not think that we are necessarily dealing with distinct occasions and divergent spatio-temporal parameters but “with the typology of an event for which a song was composed in response to predetermined generic conventions.” 153 She rightly drew attention to sympotic elegy composed both in lyric and elegiac meters (and sometimes in iambic verse), although the typology of the occasion is one and the same, i.e. the symposium. Mutatis mutandis, “the celebratory and commemorative poems for the victories of the Persian Wars pertained to a single performative framework, namely that of a public occasion, whether this took place at the funerary ceremony or at a much later commemoration.” 154 _____________ 151 152 153 154

Rossi (1999) 35. Aloni (1994) 108. Rossi (1999) 36. Rossi (1999) 36.

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If fr. eleg. 22 W2 is indeed “the very first example of a rather personal threnodic poem composed by Simonides”,155 then the absence of “reflective, consolatory and gnomic mood which characterises Pindar’s threnoi” 156 shows that lament poetry could very well be performed not only in different meters (both lyric and elegiac) but also in a different mood, i.e. pathetic or, as in the case with fr. eleg. 22 W2, restrained (Simonides) rather than consolatory (Pindar).157 In this light, both the increasing importance of consolatory maxims together with the use of elegiac meter for private epitaphs may well indicate that they both constituted ‘real’ characteristics of funerary ritual. Threnodic elegy may have existed as a genre or at least as a sub-genre, and if this holds true, the possibility that “elegoi were presumably performed at funerals” 158 becomes all the more likely.159 What does the above analysis contribute to our discussion of the authorship concerning fourth-century Attic private epitaphs? If consolation to the living and elegiac meter could reflect ‘real’ features of the funerary ritual, then non-professional authorship cannot be excluded. The restrained form of the epitaphs of our corpus is perfectly consonant with fifth- and fourth-century funerary practice and commemoration of the deceased. Elegiac compositions of this sort may have been related to funerary practice, and their threnodic tone may have been refined and restrained, blurred by consolatory coloring, such as that conferred by gnomic statements. This being the case, the co-existence of threnodic and consolatory elements may be representing a consistent combination, which by the 4th century is simply designated by the words θρῆνος and θρηνεῖν, despite the fact that these terms refer only to one of the two aspects of the funerary ritual.160 In the very words of Gentili, “con il IV secolo l’epitafio anche quello pri_____________ 155 156 157 158 159

160

Yatromanolakis (1998) 10. Yatromanolakis (1998) 10. See Pind. frs. 131a-131b, 134 (Snell-Maehler) = frs. 59-60 (Cannatà Fera). West (1974) 13. Bowie (1986) 23 has argued that “the surviving fragments … do not support existence of a genre of lamentatory elegy.” This view is shared by Gentili (1968) 50-68; Fowler (1987) 98. But see Matthaiou (1986) 31-34; Lewis (1987) 188 (“I cannot help thinking, however, that the existence on stone of two sixth-century texts of lamentation goes some way into breaking down the dividing-line between the funerary epigram and a hypothetical threnodic elegy and offers more support to the existence of the latter than Bowie is prepared to allow”); Yatromanolakis (1998) 11 n. 62. On the performance of threnodic elegies, see Bartol (1993) 18-30, 53-54. Gentili (1968) 85.

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61

vato, assume una più ampia dimensione nei motivi, nel lessico, nello stile, sì da divenire un vero e proprio genere letterario.” Martin has rightly used the term social speech to denote the subgenre of proverbial literature.161 I think that we would not be wrong to include gnomic expressions within this form of social speech and, thus, highlight their oral features. It is only through the performative aspect of the gnomic expression and, by extension, of the entire epigram, that we can understand why a member of the deceased’s family would be interested in composing epigrams containing maxims without paying much attention to meter. Additionally, we cannot find any reasonable explanation why epigrams derived from copybook-texts would begin with an unmetrical maxim (cf. IG II2 10435 = CEG 487: πάντων ἀνθρώπων νόμος ἐ|στὶ κοινὸς τὸ ἀποθανε̃ν) or why they would contain gnomic expressions which are not attested in the same form anywhere else.

_____________ 161

For proverbial expressions as a form of social speech, see Martin (1992) 25.

Chapter 2 Poetic Imagery Fourth-century Attic grave epigrams recurrently employ two forms of poetic imagery: the light of life and the chambers of Persephone. Imbued with eschatological coloring, these two metaphors are deftly used by the anonymous authors of Attic epitaphs to occasionally produce true poetic gems. Τhis sophisticated use of imagery marks a turning point in the history and evolution of the epigram, especially since “earlier epigrams lack marks of literariness that begin in the 4th century, for example, self-awareness of themselves as poetic texts (composers’ signatures, references to nearby inscriptions) and aspects of the poeticity typical of inscribed and literary epigrams in later periods (detailed ecphrasis, use of aphorisms).” 1 By combining the rich imagistic heritage of earlier poetry with the particularities of the specific individual commemorated in a private sepulchral inscription, the composers of funerary epigrams are occasionally able to break free from the rigid typology of their archaic and early classical predecessors. Notwithstanding the difficulties stemming from the restrictions imposed by technical factors (such as the nature of the material on which the inscription is to be carved, the dichotomy of the epigraphical space, the divergence and lack of agreement between the sculpted relief and the content of the epigram), the anonymous versifiers are able to display their personal talent and feeling for poetry and make a bold step forward, paving the way for the advent of the highly stylish literary epigram of the Hellenistic period.

The Light of Life The use of light-imagery is based on an old synecdoche between life and light.2 Light was regarded as a gift of divine provenance (ἁγνόν, _____________ 1 2

Day (2007) 31-32. Dieterich (19132) 24; Lattimore (1942) 161. This seems to have been a belief common to many different peoples and cultures. The Romans, for example,

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ἱερόν, οὐράνιον)3 constantly used in opposition to darkness, which symbolized hardships, suffering and, above all, death. The morning light and, by extension, the light of the sun was a widely employed synecdoche for life itself. In fourth-century Attic grave epigrams light-imagery4 is based on the use of the following two terms: (a) φῶς/φάος, either in connection with the sun (ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς: IG II2 6004 = CEG 511) or on its own (φῶς δ’ ἔλιπ’ εὐδαίμων παῖδας παίδων ἐπιδοῦσα: IG II2 6288 = CEG 566 / εἰς φῶς παῖδ’ ἀνάγουσα βίου φάος ἤν[υσας αὐτή]: IG II2 6858 = CEG 604 / λιποῦσα φάος | μοιριδίωι θανάτωι: IG II2 7227 = CEG 543 / οὐδὲ φάος λεύσων ὅ γε δαίμοσιν ἦν ἀγέραστος: IG II2 7863 = CEG 595 / <δ>ή<μ>ου φῶς: CEG 599); and (b) αὐγήν/-άς, always with the genitive of the word for sun (λίπον ἡλίου αὐγάς: IG II2 5239 = CEG 590 / ἡμεῖς δ’ ἀελίου <Ô> ὅσον χρόνον εἴ<δ>ομεν αὐγήν: IG II2 5552a = CEG 520). The word for light is used either in its Attic form (φῶς) or in its Ionic equivalent (φάος), while both forms are once combined in the same verse: εἰς φῶς παῖδ’ ἀνάγουσα βίου φάος ἤν[υσας αὐτή] (IG II2 6858 = CEG 604). Aὐγή means light of the sun and αὐγαί rays, beams.

_____________

3 4

offered torches to Saturn (Macrobius, Sat. I 7) symbolizing the eternal, unending force of fire which stood in the place of the human soul. Dieterich (19132) 24 n. 1 quotes Plutarch, de occult. viv. 1130b: αὐτήν τε τὴν ψυχὴν ἔνιοι τῶν φιλοσόφων φῶς εἶναι τῇ οὐσίᾳ νομίζουσιν. The use of light as a symbol of life is, of course, so widespread that any effort even to offer a summary of its functions is doomed to fail. Solar imagery is also essential to this belief, the more so since the sun has been related to the generation and procreation of life, while darkness has been used as a connotation of death. On Lichtsymbolik in antiquity, see Bultmann (1948) 1-36. ἁγνόν: Soph. El. 86, Eur. fr. 443.1; ἱερόν: Hes. Works and Days 339; οὐράνιον: Soph. Ant. 944. Light imagery is constantly employed as a metaphor denoting life. On the other hand, Hades is not associated so often (as in epigrams of the imperial period) with darkness. In fourth-century Attic funerary epigrams, death is mainly symbolized in terms of loss of light, i.e. from the point of view of the living. Not being able to see the light of the sun, leaving behind the light of life etc. are expressions denoting departure from the world of the living, not reception and arrival at the world of the dead. Poetic influence (from epic, lyric and tragic poetry) is no doubt here at work, but funerary epigrams display a remarkable tendency for variation and differentiation from standard literary expressions by means of slight changes.

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Φῶς/Φάος The word φῶς/φάος in connection with the sun5 is used in IG II2 6004 = CEG 511:6 (i) Nικόβολος Mυν|νίχο Eἰτεαῖος. (ii) σῆς ἀρετῆς ἕστηκεν ἐν Ἑλλάδι | πλεῖστα τρόπαια ἔν τε ἀνδρῶν | ψυχαῖς, οἷος ἐὼν ἔλιπες, Nικόβ|ολε, ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς, Περσεφ|όνης δὲ δ[ῶμ]α ποθεινὸς ἐὼν σοῖ|[σι φίλο]ις κατέβας.

4

(i) Nikobolos, son of Mynnichos, an Eitean. (ii) Many trophies of your virtue are set both in Greece and also in men’s souls. Being such a man you left behind, Nikobolos, the bright light of the sun; to Persephone’s house you descended, being longed for by your friends.

This is the only example of the Attic form φῶς combined with the Ionic genitive ἠελίο. The use of such dialectic combinations is typical of epigrammatic poetry, no less of funerary. λαμπρὸμ φάος ἠελίοιο is already attested in Homer (Il. 1.605), and is a typical expression used to refer to death. One has, though, to pay special attention to the exact phrasing of the funerary inscription. At first glance, the inscription displays all the typical features pertaining to funerary inscriptions of this period. It consists of three cola (σῆς ἀρετῆς ... ψυχαῖς, οἷος ... φῶς, Περσεφόνης ... κατέβας), the first of which contains a twofold praise to the deceased, the second expresses the idea of his death through the metaphor of abandoning the light of the sun, and the third, a bold combination of various elements such as a metaphor denoting death and the motif of nostalgia for those left behind, constitutes a typical example of the so-called ‘fallender Charakter’7 accompanied by a sorrowful tone that creeps up as the epitaph approaches its end. At the same time, this grave epigram exhibits a certain degree of deviation from the norm, since it lacks any ‘nähere Angabe’ and shows signs of metrical clumsiness: the name of the deceased is redundantly repeated at the beginning of the third verse although it has been already stated in the extra metrum part placed above the in_____________ 5

6 7

For the use of λαμπρός in light imagery, especially but not solely in relation to the light of the sun, see Ciani (1974) 106-107, 116-120, 124-133. In fact, λαμπρός constitutes the basic epithet of light that the three great tragedians constantly employed after Homer and Pindar, as Ciani (1974) 133 observes. All metrical inscriptions are cited from Hansen. For the term ‘fallender Charackter’, see Lausberg (1982) 139.

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scription.8 The insertion of the dead man’s name Nικόβολε (which should have been elided) at verse-initial position results in a metrical incongruity at the beginning of the second foot of the hexameter (verse 3). On the other hand, this grave epigram is not without some noteworthy stylistic qualities. The praise to the deceased is further elaborated as the epitaph unfolds. The τρόπαια of his virtue (ἀρετῆς) are both literal (ἕστηκεν ἐν Ἑλλάδι) and figurative (ἔν τε ἀνδρῶν ψυχαῖς). Nikobolos’ eulogy carries special weight, since it links the external with the internal and produces a praising tone familiar from the πολυάνδρια, which typically engaged in this sort of aretalogy for the war dead. This technique of widening the range of the deceased’s praise is further elaborated through the use of the “Sehnsucht und Trauer der Verwandten” 9 motif, another locus communis for grave epigrams. Nikobolos is thus longed for, missed and regretted (ποθεινός) by his friends. Praise has now come full circle. Starting from the public field, both external and internal, both in the material world and in its spiritual counterpart, it stretches to the private sphere of the deceased’s personal life. Moreover, the explicit references to both Nikobolos’ death and to the imagery of Persephone’s house in the Underworld are disrupted by the postponement of the verbs ἔλιπες and κατέβας respectively. Being placed at juncture points (the former at the end of the first couplet and the latter in epigram-terminal position) they play with the readers’ expectations. By dislocating syntactically related semantic groups, the author of the epitaph is able to create a staccato effect that emotionally punctuates Nikobolos’ figurative departure from life and his subsequent arrival at the Underworld. In this way, these two verbs (highlighted by their verse-localisation) underscore the idea of death stated in the second and third cola and starkly contrast it to the praise of the deceased. The placement of the light-metaphor in the central colon next to the name of Nikobolos aims at conveying a special message to the reader of the epigram. This message is effectuated by the splitting of the expression ἔλιπες ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς in two parts, with the verb ἔλιπες at verse end, and ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς in the next verse, as if it were in apposition to the vocative Nικόβολε, which is squeezed between the two parts of the metaphor. In this way, the second part can be heard as being in appo_____________ 8

9

The extra metrum part inscribed above the epigram with bigger letters reads: Nικόβολος Mυν|νίχο Eἰτεαῖος. ‘Longing and mourning of the relatives’. See Lausberg (1982) 136.

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sition to the name of Nikobolos, as if the deceased were called ‘the shining light of the sun’ (ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς). Individual φῶς/φάος Expressions The expression φῶς/φάος + λείπειν: (φῶς δ’ ἔλιπ’ εὐδαίμων παῖδας παίδων ἐπιδοῦσα) is attested in IG II2 6288 = CEG 566: (i) [Xαιρεστράτη | Mεν]εκρ[άτους | Ἰ]καριέως. (ii)Mητρὸς παντοτέκνου πρόπολος | σεμνή τε γέραιρα τῶιδε τάφωι κεῖται | Xαιρεστράτη, ἣν ὁ σύνευνος ἔστερξεν | μὲν ζῶσαν, ἐπένθησεν δὲ θανοῦσαν· | φῶς δ’ ἔλιπ’ εὐδαίμων παῖδας παίδων ἐπιδοῦσα.

4

(i) Chairestrate, daughter of Menekrates from the deme of Ikaria. (ii)Chairestrate, the revered and honorable servant of the all-engendering mother (Cybele), is buried in this very grave, whom her husband loved when she was alive and mourned after her death; she left the light (of life) in happiness, after having seen the children of her children.

The above grave epigram has the typical three-colon structure (Mητρὸς ... Xαιρεστράτη - ἣν ... θανοῦσαν – φῶς ... ἐπιδοῦσα) with the personal data (‘nähere Angabe’) forming a nice ring at the beginning and end of the inscription. Μητρὸς παντοτέκνου πρόπολος and παῖδας παίδων ἐπιδοῦσα refer to the particulars of the deceased’s life, namely Chairestrate’s official occupation as a priestess of Cybele (Magna Mater) and her having had grandchildren respectively. The first colon is devoted to the praise of Chairestrate (σεμνή τε γέραιρα), whereas the second, after a cursory reference to Chairestrate’s husband, calls attention to the effective blending of the typical life-death antithesis and the past-present interplay (ἔστερξεν | μὲν ζῶσαν, ἐπένθησεν δὲ θανοῦσαν). Antithetical structure and thought are a locus communis in the tradition of Greek lament, from Homer10 to the present.11 The care though with which this hexameter verse has been composed is to be appreciated, since the sense- and metrical-break (at the third trochee caesura) perfectly coincide (ζῶσαν). The third colon being coterminous with verse end aims with its deliberate isometry to highlight the _____________ 10 11

For Homer’s Iliad, see now Tsagalis (2004) 44-45. Alexiou (20022) 150-160.

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central idea of the epigram. Chairestrate left the light of life (φῶς δ’ ἔλιπ’) in happiness (εὐδαίμων) because she had lived long enough to see her own grandchildren. Verse-coterminacy, a sudden and positive sense-closure, an elaborate alliteration marking off the thematic kernel (εὐδαίμων παῖ δας παί δων ἐπι δοῦσα),12 all these stylistic devices are beautifully orchestrated in order to bring to the fore the nuclear idea: the deceased died under the blessing of the goddess Cybele, at whose service she was. Chairestrate’s happiness (a nomen omen?) is presented as the result of Cybele’s blessing. The alliteration of π (Mητρὸς παντοτέκνου πρόπολος) is repeated again at the end of the epigram accentuating the intended ring: as Magna Mater is called παντότεκνος,13 so her priestess Chairestrate will be εὐδαίμων, after having lived long enough to see the children of her children. Only now the delicate interplay between the metaphor φῶς δ’ ἔλιπ(ε) and παῖδας παίδων ἐπιδοῦσα can be fully appreciated. Figurative and literal light is squeezed at the two ends of the last verse in order to emphasize the motif of life and death. Another example of the aforementioned light metaphor in Attic grave epigrams of this period is attested in IG II2 6858 = CEG 604: (i) Kλεαγόρα Φιλέου Mελ[ιτέως γυνή]. (ii) εἰς φῶς παῖδ’ ἀνάγουσα βίου φάος ἤν[υσας αὐτή], | Kλεαγόρα, πλείστης σωφροσύνης [μέτοχος], | ὥστε γονεῦσιν πέν̣θ̣ος ἀγήρατον̣ [λίπες – –]· | ἐσθλῶν [Ó Ô˘Ô Ó Ó  Ó  Ó]. (iii) Φιλέας | Φιλάγρου | Mελιτεύς.

4

(i) Kleagora, the wife of Phileas from Melite. (ii) While bringing your son to life, you completed the light of your own life, Kleagora, having shared the greatest sophrosyne, so that you left [– –] to your parents unaging mourning; of noble [Ó Ô˘Ô Ó Ó  Ó  Ó].

_____________ 12

13

For a similar alliterative play within the expression, see IG II 2 6214 = CEG 601 (παῖδας [γὰρ] | παίδων ἐσιδὼν) and IG II2 11998 = CEG 563 (π̣α̣ῖ̣δας παίδων | ἐπ̣ι̣δοῦσαν). Note, however, that in the first of the examples above the participle is ἐσιδών, not ἐπιδών. On μήτηρ παντότεκνος, see Gruppe (1906) 2, 1525 ν. 4, who observes that this inscription is probably a very early testimony of the religious (and cultic?) fusion between Rhea and Cybele, hence the term μήτηρ παντότεκνος. Rhea had given birth to the majority of the Olympian gods who were her children from Kronos. Cf. μήτηρ πάντων, IGSI 1018 = Kaibel ep. 824; mater omnium, Firm. Mat. Err. prof. rel. 3; Aug. De civ. Dei 2; παμμήτειρα, Orph. A 547; παμμήτωρ, Kaibel ep. 823.

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(iii) Phileas, son of Philagros, from Melite.

The placement of two light metaphors at the first verse of this grave epigram is undoubtedly noteworthy. Not only is the first light metaphor used in a different way as it means ‘to bring to life, to give birth to’, but it is also coupled by another light metaphor which expresses the exact opposite, namely ‘to accomplish, to complete the light of life, i.e. to die’. The idea is that Kleagora died while in labor. This striking beginning offering both the typical ‘nähere Angabe’ and also expressing the idea of death is a bold and effective combination of the light metaphor in its positive and negative meaning. Morphological variation in such a limited space, especially when not necessitated by metrical restrictions, is puzzling, since the author of the inscription could have used either the word φῶς or its Ionic equivalent φάος twice. By asking questions like this I may seem to be flogging a dead horse. Having said this, I would like to stress my contention that by exploring and mapping out the dictional landscape of this epitaph we will be able to glance at the very process by which traditional motifs are rechristened so as to produce new meanings. The metaphor ‘bring to light’ is already attested in Hesiod14 and Attic Tragedy15 and the word βίος in the genitive accompanying a neuter substantive (τέλος, τέρμα, τέρμων ... βίου) is also frequently found in the extant tragic corpus.16 Finally, the verb ἀνύω (ἀνύτω/ἁνύτω) is twice used by the tragedians in a similar context: Aeschylus (Ag. 1123) employs the expression ξυνανύτει βίου δύντος αὐγαῖς and Sophocles (Tr. 885-886) has πρὸς θανάτῳ θάνατον / ἀνύσασα μόνα. The above data show that this grave epigram displays signs of literary innovation which may bear some resemblance to the aforementioned examples from _____________ 14

15

16

Th. 157: καὶ ἐς φάος οὐκ ἀνίεσκε, 625-626: οὓς τέκεν ἠύκομος ῾Ρείη Kρόνου ἐν φιλότητι / Γαίης φραδμοσύνῃσιν ἀνήγαγον ἐς φάος αὖτις, 652: ἐς φάος ἂψ ἵκεσθε δυσηλεγέος ὑπὸ δεσμοῦ. Aesch. Pers. 630: πέμψατ’ ἔνερθεν ψυχὴν ἐς φῶς, Soph. Phil. 625: ... πρὸς φῶς ἀνελθεῖν, Ar. Av. 699: … καὶ πρῶτον ἀνήγαγεν ἐς φῶς, Eur. Alc. 362: … πρὶν ἐς φῶς σὸν καταστῆσαι βίον, Suppl. 532: … ἐς τὸ φῶς ἀφίκετο, fr. 484.4 (Melanippa Sapiens): τίκτουσι πάντα κἀνέδωκαν εἰς φάος. τέλος: Eur. Hipp. 87: τέλος δὲ κάμψαιμ᾽ ὥσπερ ἠρξάμην βίου, El. 955-956: … πρὶν ἂν πέλας / γραμμῆς ἵκηται καὶ τέλος κάμψῃ βίου, Rh. 735: οἷόν σε βίου τέλος εἷλεν. τέρμα: Aesch. fr. 362.1-2 (fabula incerta): ἀλλ᾽ οὔτε πολλὰ τραύματ᾽ ἐν στέρνοις λαβὼν / θνῄσκει τις, εἰ μὴ τέρμα συντρέχοι βίου, Soph. OT 1529-1530: [… πρὶν ἂν/τέρμα τοῦ βίου περάσῃ …], Eur. Alc. 643: … κἀπὶ τέρμα ἥκων βίου. τέρμων: Eur. Phoen. 1352: … οἷον τέρμον᾽, Ἰοκάστη, βίου. For ὁδὸς βίου, see Isoc. to Demonicus (1) 5: ὅσοι γὰρ τοῦ βίου ταύτην τὴν ὁδὸν ἐπορεύθησαν, οὗτοι μόνοι τῆς ἀρετῆς ἐφικέσθαι γνησίως ἠδυνήθησαν, ἧς οὐδὲν κτῆμα σεμνότερον οὐδὲ βεβαιότερόν ἐστιν.

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Aeschylus and Sophocles but in no way undermine the poetic skill of the anonymous author of the inscription. It is my belief that the compiler of the epigram made a daring innovation by modifying a spatial reference to βίος (such as ὁδός, τέρμα, τέρμων that were to be expected with the verb ἀνύω),17 through the use of the ionicised form (φάος) of the word for ‘light’ that was metrically equivalent to ὁδόν and could fill perfectly well the second mora of the 4th foot. This substitution was triggered by the expression εἰς φῶς παῖδ’ ἀνάγουσα which facilitated the process of dictional modification I have just described. The effect achieved is truly remarkable, for by altering traditional material the author of this epigram suggests that the mother will live on in the newborn child, whose advent to the light of life was effectuated through his mother’s departure from this same light.18 IG II2 7863 = CEG 595 οὐδὲ φάος λεύσων ὅ γε δαίμοσιν ἦν ἀγέραστος is a case worth studying, especially since serious problems of interpretation have troubled scholars for some time. (i) Γῆρυς | ἰσοτελής. | Nικὼ | Γήρυος γυνή. | Θεόφιλος ἰσοτελής. (ii) εἰ τὸ καλῶς ἔστι θανεῖν, κἀμοὶ τοῦτ’ ἀπένειμε Tύχη· | οὐδὲ φάος λεύσων ὅ γε δαίμοσιν ἦν ἀγέραστος, | πᾶσιν δ’ ἀνθρώποισι παρέσχον ἀνένκλητον ἐμαυτόν̣· | ἔντιμον χθονίοισι θεοῖς ὑπεδέξατο γαῖα. (iii) καὶ ¸ἐγὼ τοῦδ’ ἀνδρὸς ἔφυν καὶ πάντα ὁμοί<α> | γήραι καὶ φροντίδι ̯ εὐσεβίας ἕνεκα.

4

(i)

Gerys. An isoteles citizen. Niko. Wife of Gerys. Theophilos, an isoteles citizen. (ii) If dying is a good thing, [then] Fortune has assigned this to me too. I, who was not prizeless by the gods while I was looking at the light (of life), I offered myself without reproach to all men. The earth received me as an honorable man for the gods who live below. (iii) I was by nature the wife of this man, matching in all respects old age and meditation because of my piety.

_____________ 17 18

See LSJ s.v. 5. A similar expression is found in Eur. Andr. 406: εἷς παῖς ὅδ’ ἦν μοι λοιπός, ὀφθαλμὸς βίου. See Stevens (1971) 406, who rightly observes that “ὀφθαλμός is often used metaphorically of anything precious.” See Aesch. Cho. 934, where Orestes is characterized as ὀφθαλμὸς οἴκων. Cf. Aesch. Pers. 168: ... ἀμφὶ δ’ ὀφθαλμῷ φόβος, Cho. 934: ὀφθαλμὸν οἴκων μὴ πανώλεθρον πεσεῖν, Pind. Olymp. 2.9-10: ἱερὸν ἔσχον οἴκημα ποταμοῦ, Σικελίας τ’ ἔσαν / ὀφθαλμός ... , Olymp. 6.16: ... ποθέω στρατιᾶς ὀφθαλμὸν ἐμᾶς, Soph. OT 987: καὶ μὴν μέγας <γ’> ὀφθαλμὸς οἱ πατρὸς τάφοι.

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The clumsiness of this epigram’s phrasing, its numerous metrical inconcinnities and even its dating have been at the center of scholarly debate. Following Hansen,19 I shall accept a fourth-century dating, between 340-317 BCE. In the first chapter on gnomic expressions in fourth-century Attic funerary epigrams I have touched upon the initial gnomic expression of this epitaph that seems to have been modeled upon another funerary epigram from Athens, which has come down to us by means of the Anthologia Palatina.20 The epigram follows a three-colon structure. The maxim εἰ τὸ καλῶς ἔστι θανεῖν, κἀμοὶ τοῦτ’ ἀπένειμε Tύχη placed at the beginning of the inscription functions as a sort of introduction to the thematic nucleus of the epitaph. After setting the interpretive framework, the anonymous author presents the reader of the inscription with all the relevant data pertaining to the deceased: the general idea expressed here is that during his lifetime the dead person did not remain unrecompensed by the δαίμονες and lived without reproach among all men. Verses 2-3 forming this second part are symmetrically organized, as it can be seen from: (a) the use of two compound verbal adjectives in -τος with αprivative (ἀγέραστος, ἀνένκλητον) and (b) three datives of agent (δαίμοσιν, πᾶσιν ... ἀνθρώποισι), which are equally distributed among them. The light metaphor φάος λεύσων functions as a foil for the twofold ensuing vehicle. The author of this grave epigram skilfully blends an epic-colored expression triggered by the connotations of ἀγέραστος with legal-oriented vocabulary (παρέσχον ἀνένκλητον ἐμαυτόν) in order to offer to future passers-by advice concerning the way they should ‘read’ the metaphor φάος λεύσων. The verb λεύσ(σ)ω is used in Homer to introduce an object-clause that expresses literal or figurative ‘seeing’21 or a question containing advice22 about a possi_____________ 19 20

21 22

See Hansen CEG 595 (pp. 83-84) for an overview of the relevant material. AP 7.253 (FGE 8). See Hansen CEG 595 (p. 84) with all the relevant bibliography. Recently, Kowerski (2005, 77-78 and 159) seems not to exclude the possibility of ‘Simonidean’ authorship of this epitaph. Here, it suffices to say that the existence and circulation of a Sylloge Simonidea that contained both genuine and non-genuine epigrams by Simonides may have influenced the anonymous composer of CEG 595. I tend to side with Hansen, who argues on linguistic grounds that AP 7.253 is later than the Persian Wars, and it may well be referring either to the dead in the battle of Chaeronea or in the Lamian War. Il. 1.120: λεύσσετε γὰρ τό γε πάντες, ὅ μοι γέρας ἔρχεται ἄλλῃ. Il. 3.110: λεύσσει, ὅπως ὄχ’ ἄριστα μετ’ ἀμφοτέροισι γένηται. On φάος λεύσ(σ)ων in Greek tragedy, see Soph. Trach. 829: … ὁ μὴ λεύσσων; Eur. Tro. 269: … ἆρά μοι ἀέλιον λεύσσει; Phoen. 1084: … εἰ λεύσσει φάος. See also LSJ s.v. Ciani (1974) does not examine the use of λεύσσω.

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ble course of action.23 The first of these two Homeric attestations of λεύσ(σ)ω is of paramount importance, for it bears striking similarities to the use of this verb together with a γέρας-expression. The Iliadic passage in question runs as follows (Il. 1.118-120): αὐτὰρ ἐμοὶ γέρας αὐτίχ’ ἑτοιμάσατ’, ὄφρα μὴ οἶος Ἀργείων ἀγέραστος ἔω, ἐπεὶ οὐδὲ ἔοικεν· λεύσσετε γὰρ τό γε πάντες, ὅ μοι γέρας ἔρχεται ἄλλῃ.24 Find me then some prize that shall be my own, lest I only among the Argives go without, since that were unfitting; you are all witnesses to this thing, that my prize goes elsewhere.25

In the Iliadic passage, Agamemnon calls the Argives to witness the loss of his γέρας. Likewise the anonymous author of the grave epigram figuratively ‘transforms’ all readers into witnesses, who shall be aware of the fact that during Gerys’ lifetime (φάος λεύσων) he had been honored by the δαίμονες and that he was considered blameless among all men.26 The comparison with the aforementioned Iliadic passage shows how important for Agamemnon the loss of his prize is within the social framework of the heroic community. Throughout the whole of Iliad 1, this cardinal preoccupation with honor, prize gaining and status is exemplified through the rhetoric of γέρας, which is constantly used by Achilles and abused by Agamemnon. In Il. 1.163, Achilles complains that he never had an equal share with Agamemnon in the war-spoils (οὐ μὲν σοί ποτε ἶσον ἔχω γέρας), whereas Agamemnon (Il. 1.185-187) specifically tells Achilles that he will take Briseis from _____________ 23 24 25 26

See Tarrant (1960) 181. The text of the Iliad follows the Teubner edition by West (1998-2000). All Iliad translations are taken from Lattimore (1951). I would like to make it clear that I am not arguing that CEG 595 alludes to the Homeric text of Il. 1.118-120. Marco Fantuzzi (private communication) rightly draws my attention to the following facts: (a) in CEG 595 the subject of λεύσσειν and ἦν is the same whereas in Il. 1.120 the subjects of λεύσσετε and ἔρχεται are different, and (b) in CEG 595 the sense of the expression φάος λεύσων is not related to that of λεύσσετε (witness) in the Homeric text. Both observations are certainly true but I think that the analogy I am arguing for is still valid. In fact, both passages presuppose the existence of an audience (passers-by in CEG 595 - the Argives in Il. 118-120) witnessing the importance each speaker attributes to the notion of γέρας. In other words, the aforementioned analogy is not based on the use of λεύσσειν but on the similarity of the two situations that is reinforced by the cumulative evidence presented above. Given that Gerys, like Agamemnon, is heavily preoccupied with honor, he is aiming at turning his epitaph into a testimony of the γέρας he had received.

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his hut ‘that you may learn well / how much greater I am than you, and another man may shrink back / from likening himself to me and contending against me’ (... ὄφρ᾽ εὖ εἴδῃς / ὅσσον φέρτερός εἰμι σέθεν, στυγέῃ δὲ καὶ ἄλλος / ἶσον ἐμοὶ φάσθαι καὶ ὁμοιωθήμεναι ἄντην).27 In CEG 595 Gerys, the first-person mourner, is an ἰσοτελής,28 belonging to the only category of foreigners in Attica who declared their status on gravestones, in contrast to the μέτοικοι or the ξένοι.29 Moreover, when the ἰσοτελεῖς inscribed their names on their gravestones, they did not mention either their ethnic origin or their citizenship in a foreign state.30 In fact, only a limited number of ἰσοτελεῖς had their status inscribed on gravestones. The parameters delineated above can be lumped together as an attempt to monumentalize the circumscribed contexts of Gerys’ life in his gravestone commemoration. By calling attention to his status as an ἰσοτελής and subsequently by forging a link between divine and human approval, Gerys takes his place in a figurative hall of fame of Athenian citizens.31 The declaration of citizen status, a rather odd feature for a grave epigram, has thus allowed the author of the epitaph to epitomize the deceased’s social position. The language of the epigram blends epic overtones and legally oriented fourth-century vocabulary in order to commemorate the deceased’s importance and honor. In fact, it can be fully grasped that verse 3 (πᾶσιν δ’ ἀνθρώποισι παρέσχον ἀνένκλητον ἐμαυτόν̣) forms an indirect praise to the deceased, if we take into consideration that from the beginning of the 4th century metics (including the ἰσοτελεῖς) could appear in court without having to be represented by their προστάτης, who was an Athenian citizen. In that respect, it would make sense to praise one’s compliance with the law, especially since he now had full legal responsibility for his own actions.32 This is _____________ 27 28

29 30 31 32

Lattimore (1951) 64. Osborne (1982) 34 calls attention to the rarity and servile associations of the name Gerys in Athens and argues that the Gerys of our epitaph is the same with a Gerys mentioned in an Athenian decree of 401/0 BCE (IG II2 10 + Addendum p. 655 = Tod, GHI 100 + IG II2 2403 + SEG 12.84) granting certain privileges to the foreigners who had assisted Thrasyboulos in the restoration of democracy by seizing the fortress of Phyle (Osborne 1981, 37-41; see D6). On such a reading, Gerys may well have been granted isoteleia for contributing to the liberation of Athens from the tyranny of the Thirty. On the formation of the name Gerys, see Bechtel (1917) 108; Fraser (1995) s.v. ‘Gerys’. See Vestergaard (2000) 83. See Whitehead (1977) 33; Fraser (1995) 66. In this light, the expression οὐδὲ … ἦν ἀγέραστος may be reflecting the honor of becoming an isoteles. See Sakellariou (1999) 138-139. On metics, see Hommel (1932) cols. 14131454; Whitehead (1977); Baslez (1984).

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a striking example of the functional annulment of the typical dichotomy of the epigraphical space between an unmetrical first section where the name of the deceased is inscribed and a second, longer section including the grave epigram proper. A feature of the first section is ‘explained’ and dictionally developed in the second section. One could even adduce further evidence concerning the invalidation of the dichotomy of the epigraphical space. The name Γῆρυς is aurally reflected in ἀγέραστος and γήραι, the former referring to the deceased’s status, the latter to his wife Nico who was his ὁμοία (note the use of ὁμοιωθήμεναι within an analogous context by Agamemnon in Il. 1.187) in age (γήραι) and wit (φροντίδι̯). By adding ἔντιμον to the list of terms designating Gerys’ status, the last line of the epigram determines how the deceased will be ‘received by the earth’ and the gods that lie beneath. The notion of honor (τιμή) accompanying γέρας is also colored in epic terms, as can be seen by Il. 1.505-507 (τίμησόν μοι υἱόν, ὃς ὠκυμορώτατος ἄλλων / ἔπλετ’, ἀτάρ μιν νῦν γε ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν Ἀγαμέμνων / ἠτίμησεν· ἑλὼν γὰρ ἔχει γέρας αὐτὸς ἀπούρας) and Th. 395-396 (τὸν δ’ ἔφαθ’, ὅστις ἄτιμος ὑπὸ Kρόνου ἠδ’ ἀγέραστος, / τιμῆς καὶ γεράων ἐπιβησέμεν, ἣ θέμις ἐστίν). Read this way, the above epigram may be understood as an effort on the part of the deceased’s family to emulate the authority of citizen epitaphs. It even raises the possibility that Gerys’ epitaph embodies an entire set of social principles reflecting tensions and aspirations in fourth-century Athenian society. A unique light metaphor is attested in CEG 599 = ΣΕΜΑ 2064. The inscription runs as follows: ἥδε χθὼ̣ν ἐ̣κ̣άλυψε Kλεὼ τὴν σώφρονα πάντα | δύσμορον ἡλικίας· ὀλοφύρεται ἥ σε τεκοῦσα, | σούς τε κασιγνήτους λ<υ>ποῦσα ἔθανες, <δ>ή<μ>ου φῶς, | σὴν αὔξουσ’ ἀρετὴν καὶ σωφροσύνην ἐρατεινήν. This soil covered Kleo, who was chaste in every respect, but ill-fated in regarding her age; the one who gave birth to you is grieving. You died bringing pain to your brothers, o light of the demos, but increasing your virtue and your lovely sophrosyne.

Before embarking on an analysis of the expression <δ>ή<μ>ου φῶς, I would like to discuss certain textual issues pertaining to this grave epigram as a whole. Verse 3, as carved on the stone, poses a number of problems due to its metrical and semantic inconcinnities:

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ΣOYΣTEKAΣIΓNHTOYΣΛIΠOYΣAEΘANEΣAHΛIOYΦΩΣ

Peek33 has rightly suggested, though not without a certain hesitation, that we should read λυποῦσα and not λιποῦσα. Hansen34 offers a wealth of relevant cases either containing the expressions λύπην λείπειν and λύπην παρέχειν or simply including the verb λυπέω: CEG 515: ὦ μεγάλην λύπην σὺ λιπο̃σα ... CEG 541: [οὐ]δ̣ένα λυπήσασα, 554: ... οὐθένα | λυπῶν).35 CEG 585: ὥστε θανὼν ἔλιπον λύπας … CEG 684: νῦν δὲ θανὼν λύπας ἀθανάτους παρέχω

Peek has ingeniously proposed <δ>ή<μ>ου φῶς in the place of the meaningless AHΛIOYΦΩΣ, which is carved on the stone. It seems that “lapidarius, qui rei metricae ignarus locutione inexspectata δήμου φῶς male lecta locutiones formasque usitatas confuse adhibuit.” 36 On such a premise, it is not inconceivable that the α of λ<υ>ποῦσ{α} has been wrongly added by the stone-carver, who correctly omits it in the next line to avoid hiatus (αὔξουσ’ ἀρετήν). One should, therefore, edit verse 3 as follows: σούς τε κασιγνήτους λ<υ>ποῦσ{α} ἔθανες, <δ>ή<μ>ου φῶς. The expression <δ>ή<μ>ου φῶς is an interesting dictional coin, constituting a hapax legomenon in all of Greek epigrammatic poetry. Peek has offered a list of passages containing φῶς/φάος-expressions, which he regards as analogous to the hapax <δ>ή<μ>ου φῶς.37 I will now proceed by giving a larger list of ‘equivalent’ passages which includes Peek’s list, a couple of references from Hansen,38 and Tarrant’s material from her article on light-metaphors:39 1. Od. 16.23: ἦλθες, Tηλέμαχε, γλυκερὸν φάος 2. Anacreon, 380 (PMG): χαῖρε φίλον φῶς χαρίεντι μειδιῶν προσώπῳ 3. Pindar, Isthm. 2.17: Ἀκραγαντίνων φάος

_____________ 33 34 35

36 37 38 39

Peek (1968) 371-372. Hansen, CEG 599. All these parallels corroborate Peek’s reading. See also SEG 25.299. Expressions like 541: [οὐ]δ̣ένα λυπήσασα and 554: ... οὐθένα λυπῶν are later typically employed in consolation literature. See Kassel (1958) 4-12. Speech, especially funerary speech, is capable of alleviating pain and suffering, and must be used according to particular circumstances and based on an intimate knowledge of the deceased (11). Hansen, CEG 599. Peek (1968) 372. Hansen, CEG 599. Tarrant (1960) 181-187.

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The expression <δ>ή<μ>ου φῶς bears only limited similarities with the equivalent expressions of the above list. They all refer to a person or (as in item 6) persons and the word φῶς is accompanied by a ‘modifier’ (items 1, 2, 6) or a reference point (a genitive or dative as in items 3, 4) or both (item 5). Items 1, 2, 3, 5, and 6 stand closer to the expression <δ>ή<μ>ου φῶς for they also share an equivalent funerary context.40 Moreover, in all the above items the light metaphor containing the word φάος/φῶς refers or alludes to the acknowledgement of the service offered by the deceased to an individual (1, 2) or to the fatherland (4) or to both the fatherland and an individual (5) or to the city (3, 6). These parallels, then, reveal that the light metaphor <δ>ή<μ>ου φῶς should be ‘read’ as an indirect praise on the part of the city to the deceased.41 It is all the more surprising that a social recognition of one’s service is here employed for a young (δύσμορον ἡλικίας) woman. The placement of this light metaphor at verse end does not simply punctuate emotionally the loss of a beloved person but it also deftly embeds it in its thematic blueprint, which coheres with fourthcentury social ideals. The lament context is fully exploited as a fertile literary field allowing social concerns to grow. The expression <δ>ή<μ>ου φῶς inaugurates the third and last part of the inscription, where the measures of Kleo’s praise are spelled out: her arete and sophrosyne have been increased, she has won the kleos of commemoration both as a beloved daughter and sister and also as a member of the demos. She clearly stands out as an individual who is esteemed not simply as a family member but also as a citizen.

_____________ 40

41

See Od. 16.23 and also what is said about Telemachus a few lines before (16.20-22): ὣς τότε Tηλέμαχον θεοειδέα δῖος ὑφορβὸς / πάντα κύσεν περιφύς, ὡς ἐκ θανάτοιο φυγόντα· / καί ῥ᾽ ὀλοφυρόμενος ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα. The very first traces of this use may be found already in Homer, where φάος as sunlight is often identified with the light of life. Therefore, φάος may denote two related, especially within the framework of the Iliad, semantic fields, salvation and glory. See Ciani (1974) 85-86.

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Aὐγή/-αί42 In her study on ancient Greek poetic terminology regarding light, Ciani distinguishes between (a) the light of the sun, and (b) the light of fire.43 In our corpus only the first meaning is used both in the singular and plural but without the typical semantic differentiation we encounter in Homeric poetry, where the singular denotes the sunlight, while the plural refers to the rays of the sun. In Pindaric poetry, αὐγή is used only in the plural. It seems that the Homeric distinction had ceased to be valid, and that the term began to mean ‘splendor’. In Aeschylus, the singular denotes the light of fire, whereas the plural the rays of the sun. In Sophocles, the singular designates ‘gleaming’, while the plural is used in reference to the eyes. In Euripides, the singular may denote either the rays of the sun or the splendor of the sun or the day (as a metaphor) or splendor in general, whereas the plural has a secondary function, mainly in relation to the eyes.44 (a) Λίπον ἡλίου αὐγάς The expression ἡλίου αὐγάς is used once with the verb λίπον (CEG 590): (i) Φίλαγρος Ἀγγελῆθεν. Ἥγιλλα Φιλάγρο. (ii) ἡλικίαμ μὲν ἐμὴν ταύτην δεῖ πάντας ἀκοῦσαι· εἰκοστῶι καὶ πέμπτωι ἔτει λίπον ἡλίου αὐγάς. | τοὺς δὲ τρόπους καὶ σωφροσύνην ἣν εἴχομεν ἡμεῖς ἡμέτερος πόσις οἶδεν ἄριστ’ εἰπεῖν περὶ τούτων.

4

(i) Philagros from the deme of Aggelai. Hegilla, daughter of Philagros. (ii) Everybody must learn about my exact age; I left the light of the sun at my twenty-fifth year. In respect of my manners and the sophrosyne I had,

_____________ 42

43 44

In Homeric poetry, αὐγή mainly denotes the concept of light (in relation or contrast to darkness). Αὐγαί designate the rays of the sun, stars, lightning, and metals (especially bronze). Just because the rays of the sun cannot reach the realm of Hades where darkness prevails, so the expression ‘to see the light of the sun’ evolved into a metaphor for being alive. See Constantinidou (1993) 95-107. See Ciani (1974) 11-14. I owe this information to Schmidt (1876) 563-598 and Ciani (1974) 81-83, 9092. On light in Greek literature, see also Wetter (1915); Bultmann (1948) 1-36; Beierwaltes (1957); Tarrant (1960) 181-187; Mugler (1960) 40-72, (1964); Classen (1965) 97-116; Treu (1965) 83-97.

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This grave inscription comes from a marble stele with a pediment in whose middle there is an acroterion representing a Siren with long wings. The pediment contains a relief with three figures whose heads are the only part left intact: on the left, a bearded man who is standing (probably Philagros, father of the deceased), in the middle a woman who is also standing (the attendant of Hegilla), and on the right another woman, who is seated (Hegilla). The stone, which was found in the southern part of Athens and is now at the Staatliches Museum in Berlin (n. 741 = K 45) has been dated by Kirchner (IG II2 5239) and Peek (GVI 1790) to the 4th century (ca. 360-350). The epitaph has been inscribed outside the epistylion.45 The identifications of the figures in the relief are guaranteed by the two names inscribed above the heads of the man and the woman on the left and right respectively. Since Hegilla is referred to by her father’s name (Philagros) and Philagros is the man’s name on the left, it is plausible to argue that Philagros is Hegilla’s father, and not her husband. These observations are at odds with verse 4 of the grave inscription, which refers to her husband, who is absent from the relief. The above epigram displays a two-colon structure, with verses 1-2 forming the first part, and verses 3-4 the second. The first verse introduces the theme of age, which is frequently attested in funerary inscriptions, especially when the deceased is young.46 On the other hand, part of the epitaph’s diction represents an odd formation, since ἡλικία mainly features together with the verb λείπω (CEG 577: ἡλικίας δὲ πόθον νεαρᾶς μνήμην τε λιποῦσα, 624: ἡλικία̣[ν]|προλιπών) or with the adjective δύσμορος (CEG 591.6: ἥρπασας ἡλικίας δύσ[μ̣ορον Ô]σε[Ô Ó], 599.2: δύσμορον ἡλικίας…) or with other combinations (CEG 701.2: ὃς νέ̣ο̣ς̣ ἡλικίας ἄνθος ἔχων ἔθανεν, 704.4: σῆς ἀρε|τῆς ἕνεκεν καὶ ¸οὐ μόνον ἡλικί|ας). Verse 1 is virtually an indirect address to all future passers-by, the would-be readers of this epitaph, who will thus find out about the age of the deceased. The use of ἀκοῦσαι is noteworthy, for it underlines the fact that the passers-by will read the epigram aloud and so they will hear and, consequently, learn about the age of the deceased. I was able to trace only one other fourth-century equivalent to the ‘enunciative’ use of such a traditional theme as that of the deceased’s age. It does not come from Attica but, nevertheless, of_____________ 45 46

See Blümel (1928) 40-41, n. K 45 (Table 52). See CEG 482, 527-528, 538, 568, 573, 577, 584, 590, 591.1, 591.6, 599, 624, 662, 665, 691, 701, 704, 716, 732, 888.5.

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fers a revealing use of the same motif. CEG 665 is a two-verse stoichedon epitaph in dactylic hexameters that is inscribed on an oblong marble base. It comes from the island of Amorgos and reads as follows: Oἰνόβιος Δίωνος ἀποφθιμένο τόδ’ ἀώρο | μνῆμ’ ἔσ<τησ’· ἐσ>ορᾶν δ’ ἡλικίην παρέχει. Oinobios set this memorial of Dion, who died prematurely. It offers you the chance to look at his age.

Through the reference to Dion’s ἡλικίη, the μνῆμα gives the passersby the ability to visualize the deceased’s age, i.e. his youth. The phrasing only confirms or makes clearer what is already portrayed in the relief. Still this is the only fourth-century grave epigram explicitly pointing to the correspondence between the relief and the inscription. In order to understand the peculiarities of this epitaph, one needs to keep in mind the above observations, which will become relevant when combined with the study of the rest of the inscription, especially the function of the light metaphor in the second verse. The second semantic unit of CEG 590 is verse 2 (line 3), which explicitly informs the reader about the age of the deceased: ‘in the 25th year (of my life) I left the light of the sun’. The combination λείπω + ἡλίου αὐγάς is only attested in an alleged grave epigram from Thebes, now lost to us. According to the Homeric scholia ad 18.570c1 [IV 556 Erbse] and Eustathius ad 18.570 [IV 258 van der Valk], there was a tradition47 about an inscription at Thebes commemorating the death of Linos. This was a metrical inscription48 in dactylic hexameter ending with the expression ἐπεὶ λίπες ἡλίου αὐγάς. Otherwise, this expression is not attested before the 4th century BCE. It seems to have been the result of substituting φάος with αὐγάς in a metaphorical expression for death (see Il. 18.11: χερσὶν ὕπο Tρώων λείψειν φάος ἠελίοιο / Od. 11.93: τίπτ’ αὖτ’, ὦ δύστηνε, λιπὼν φάος ἠελίοιο / Homeric Hymn to _____________ 47

48

In the text of the Homeric scholia (ad 18.570c1 [IV 556 Erbse]), the form φασί seems not to refer to Philochorus (see FGrHist 328 F 207) and Melanippides (fr. 766 [PMG]) who had narrated the story of Λίνος. The source from which the scholia Homerica derive the information about a grave epigram (the stone does not survive) from Thebes in Boeotia remains unknown. At any rate, the inscription runs as follows: ὦ Λίνε πᾶσι [πάντα Eust.] θεοῖσι τετιμένε, σοὶ γὰρ ἔδωκαν / ἀθάνατοι πρώτῳ [πρῶτοι cod.] μέλος ἀνθρώποισιν ἀεῖσαι [ἀείδειν Eust.] / ἐν ποδὶ δεξιτερῷ. Mοῦσαι δέ σε θρήνεον αὐταί / μυρόμεναι μολπῇσιν, ἐπεὶ λίπες ἡλίου (ἠελίου cod.) αὐγάς. See carm. pop. 880 (PMG).

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Aphrodite (5) 272: τῶν δέ θ’ ὁμοῦ ψυχὴ λείπει φάος ἠελίοιο / Theognis 569: ἄφθογγος, λείψω δ’ ἐρατὸν φάος ἠελίοιο / Eur. fr. 816.11 [Kannicht]: πᾶς τις φοβεῖται φῶς λιπεῖν τόδ’ ἡλίου). This replacement led to the mutual change of word order (φάος ἠελίοιο was turned into ἡλίου αὐγάς) because of metrical reasons (φάος scans Ô Ô, whereas αὐγάς scans Ó Ó).49 The pioneering combination λιπεῖν ἡλίου αὐγάς and the innovative use of the ἡλικία-expression occupy the first part (verses 1-2: ἡλικίαμ μὲν ἐμὴν ταύτην δεῖ πάντας ἀκοῦσαι· / εἰκοστῶι καὶ πέμπτωι ἔτει λίπον ἡλίου αὐγάς) of the epitaph. These two verses delineate a clear-cut antithesis with the second part of the epigram (verse 3-4: τοὺς δὲ τρόπους καὶ σωφροσύνην ἣν εἴχομεν ἡμεῖς / ἡμέτερος πόσις οἶδεν ἄριστ’ εἰπεῖν περὶ τούτων) devoted to the praise of the deceased.50 Tagged by the postpositives μέν-δέ, the two parts complement each other and should be read as a diptych consisting of three antithetical pairs, the first being the principal one, while the second and the third are subordinated to it: Part I

Part II

ἡλικίαμ

τρόπους καὶ σωφροσύνην

πάντας

πόσις

ἀκοῦσαι

εἰπεῖν

From the innovative diction of the first part, the speaking voice of the deceased woman changes the rhythm by explicitly referring to the intimate part of her life, the one known to her husband. This human touch brings the epitaph to its end, which is none other than the allimportant disclosure of the concerted function of the epigram and the stele at large. The husband who is left behind, the one who is not portrayed in the relief, is the only person who can truly testify to the gentleness of character and the sophrosyne Hegilla possessed during _____________ 49

50

The Ionic form φάος is well attested in fourth-century Attic grave epigrams. Cf. IG II2 6288 = CEG 566; IG II2 6858 = CEG 604; IG II2 7227 = CEG 543; IG II2 7863 = CEG 595. Moreover, it is frequently governed by the verb λείπω. Cf. φῶς δ’ ἔλιπ’ εὐδαίμων παῖδας παίδων ἐπιδοῦσα: IG II2 6288 = CEG 566/ εἰς φῶς παῖδ’ ἀνάγουσα βίου φάος ἤν[υσας αὐτή]: IG II2 6858 = CEG 604/ λιποῦσα φάος | μοιριδίωι θανάτωι : IG II2 7227 = CEG 543. See Geffcken (1916) 36: “Characteristisch für diese Zeit, die den Schmerz um den Verlust zu viel vollerem Ausdruck bringt, ist das eingehende Lob des guten Weibes.”

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her lifetime. Only now can one grasp the functional symbiosis between the monument and the epitaph, which are effectively combined to bridge the built-in dichotomy between externally perceived appearance (such as age) and internally experienced reality (such as character). Instead of the direct expression of esteem or love by the husband for the wife, which is customary in the epitaphs for married women,51 the deceased’s husband becomes here the living testimony of his wife’s memory, a voice whose authority is acknowledged by the literary convention of his dead wife’s speaking I embedded in this very funerary incription. (b) Ἀελίου εἴδομεν αὐγήν (CEG 520) A variant of the ἡλίου αὐγάς expression is attested with the verb εἴ<δ>ομεν (IG II2 5552a = CEG 520): (i) (ii) (iii) (iv)

Δημά̣ρ̣ε̣τ̣ο̣ς̣ Δημονόθου | Ἀλωπεκῆθεν. Xαιρίας Xαιρεφάνος | Περγασῆθεν. Kα<λλ>ισστρ<ά>τη. ὦ φίλοι ἡμέτεροι, χρηστ<ο>ὶ πιστ<ο>ὶ διὰ παντός, | χαίρετε· κοινὸν γὰρ ῥῆμα τόδ’ ἐστὶ βροτοῖς. | ἡμεῖς δ’ ἀελίου <ἐς> ὅσον χρόνον εἴ<δ>ομεν αὐγὴν | <Ó Ô˘Ô Ó Ô˘Ô Ó Ó  Ó  Ó> | εἰς ἀγαθόν τε ἐνέποντες καὶ ἐξοπίσ[ω] πάλιν αὖθις, | νυνὶ δὲ <φ>θ<ί>μενοι κείμεθα γῆς ἀφανεῖς.

4

8

6. μέν Peek 52 : <Ô> Hansen : ἐς suppl.53

_____________ 51 52 53

See e.g. CEG 539.2: Ἀρχεστράτην ἀνδρὶ ποθεινοτάτην. See Peek (1941b) 55 n. 2. See Hdt. 1.55: ἐς αἰεὶ χρόνον, 1.77: ἐς χρόνον ῥητόν, 1.108: ἐς τὸν μετέπειτα χρόνον, 3.65: ἐς τὸν ἅπαντα χρόνον, 3.72: ἐς χρόνον, 4.187: ἐς τὸν πάντα χρόνον, 7.29: οὔτε ἐς χρόνον, 7.73: χρόνον ὅσον, 7.94: ὅσον μὲν χρόνον, 8.129: ἐς τὸν μετέπειτα χρόνον, 9.63: ὅσον μέν νυν χρόνον, 9.73: ἐς τὸν πάντα χρόνον, 9.89: ἐς χρόνον; Th. 1.108 = 2.51 = 3.46 = 3.114: ἐς τὸν ἔπειτα χρόνον, 2.77: ἔς γε ἐκεῖνον τὸν χρόνον, 4.117: ἐς τὸν πλείω χρόνον, 6.31: ἐς ἐκεῖνον τὸν χρόνον. For tragedy, see Aesch. Eum. 670: ἐς τὸ πᾶν χρόνου; Eur. Her. 143: τίν’ ἐς χρόνον ζητεῖτε μηκῦναι βίον; Ion 1349: σῶσαι τόδ’ εὕρημ’ ἐς τὸν ὄντα νῦν χρόνον; Or. 207: ἐς τὸν αἰὲν ἕλκω χρόνον; IA 865: ὁ λόγος ἐς μέλλοντ᾽ ~ἂν ὤσῃ~ χρόνον. See also Eur. Hec. 436 (ὅσον χρόνον). Two other passages display certain features also found at CEG 520: (a) Theognis 93-100; (b) Soph. Phil. 348-349 (ταῦτ, ὦ ξέν᾽, οὕτως ἐννέποντες οὐ πολὺν / χρόνον μ᾽ ἐπέσχον μή με ναυστολεῖν ταχύ). What is even more interesting is that all passages are concerned with friendship (or its abuse). Moreover, in the Sophoclean passage Neoptolemus is referring to his deceit by Odysseus and Phoenix, who

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Demaretos, son of Demonothos, from Alopeke. Chairias, son of Chairephanes, from Pergase. Kallistrate. My friends, good and loyal for ever, Farewell. For this word is common to mortals. As long as we saw the light of the sun <Ó Ô˘Ô Ó Ô˘Ô Ó Ó  Ó  Ó> | speaking with good intentions and then again and again. But now, we are lying dead, unseen under the ground.

This inscription has been inscribed on a marble stele with kyma and anthemium. The upper and right part of the anthemium have been partly broken, as well as the lower part of the stele. It belongs to the 4th century (ca. 370-360),54 the latter date (ca. 360) being more probable. 55 It is of unknown provenance, now preserved at the National Archaeological Museum in Athens. It is a six-verse epigram in three elegiac couplets with a missing pentameter in the second distich. Peek 56 has traced certain Empedoclean echoes, such as the qualification of the second person plural by the word φίλοι coupled by χαίρετε at the beginning of the second verse (line 5 of the inscription).57 The relevant passage from Empedocles’ Kαθαρμοί (Purifications) reads as follows (B 112.1-5 DK):58 ὦ φίλοι, οἳ μέγα ἄστυ κάτα ξανθοῦ Ἀκράγαντος / ναίετ’ ἄν’ ἄκρα πόλεος, ἀγαθῶν μελεδήμονες ἔργων, / <ξείνων αἰδοῖοι λιμένες κακότητος ἄπειροι> / χαίρετ’· ἐγὼ δ’ ὑμῖν θεὸς ἄμβροτος οὐκέτι θνητός / πωλεῦμαι μετὰ πᾶσι τετιμένος, ὥσπερ ἔοικα, ... The use of χαίρετε is also noteworthy for this is the only case in the extant corpus of fourth-century epigrams that it is separated from its nominal accompaniment.59 Χαίρετε had been already used in a single fifth-century polyandrion (CEG 1.4) as an address to the Athenian _____________

54 55 56 57 58 59

convinced him to leave Scyros and go to Troy after Achilles’ death. In fact, Neoptolemus explicitly says that the main reason for his hastened departure from Scyros was his desire to see the body of his dead father Achilles, whom he had never seen before (350-351). According to H. Möbius. See Peek (1941b) 54 n. 4. See Kirchner IG II 5552a; Peek GVI 1211 agrees with Kirchner’s proposal. Peek (1941b) 54-56. On the deaths of Empedocles himself, see Chitwood (2004) 48-58. I am following the numbering of Diels-Kranz but I have used the text of Inwood (20012) 210. See also the edition of Wright (19952). Cf. the use of χαίρετε in fourth-century epigrams: χαίρετε (δ᾽/δὲ) οἱ παριόντες (CEG 487, 492, 677) and χαίρετε τοὶ |˛ ἀνθέντες πάν|τες τῶι Ναυ|κοσάμαι (sic) με (CEG 901).

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war dead, who perished in the battle of Tanagra.60 The tone of this address, however, is gnomic-consolatory and not threnodic. The Athenian polis had gradually developed an entire nexus of law-abiding practices, which expressed the funerary ideology of the all-powerful city-state.61 These practices included public collective epitaphs for the war dead, such as the polyandria, public burial, the prohibition of expressing grief and excessive lamentation in public, the utterance of a public speech, the epitaphios logos, as well as the performance of sacrifices in honor of those who died in war. This civic ideology shifted emphasis from grief and lament for the dead to praise and glorification first of those who gave their lives for their city and secondly, and more importantly, of the city itself. Despite the fact that fifth-century civic rhetoric involved the heroization of the war dead, private epitaphs still kept their tone of grief. Conversely, in fourth-century Athens, one encounters a less solid picture. A variety of eschatological beliefs, considerable widening of the scope of formulations, and extensive mixture of motifs are now the norm. This shift of emphasis can be attributed to various changes, such as the literary development of the genre of funerary poetry, the new civic ideology, and last but not least, the widening of the social origin of the people who commissioned grave monuments. The pathetic-threnodic element of the archaic epitaphs, which had given its place to the laudatory tone of fifth-century polyandria, was now replaced by a gnomic-consolatory style ‘targeting’ those related to the deceased rather than the deceased per se.62 In the case of CEG 520, the use of a gnomic statement (κοινὸν γὰρ ῥῆμα τόδ’ ἐστὶ βροτοῖς) reinforced this shift in scope by facilitating the ‘opening up’ of the epigram to a fictive audience of future passers-by. The use of χαίρετε as an address to any passer-by aimed at ‘identifying’ the deceased with the passer-by, since the latter would eventually be in a situation similar to that of the former in the future.63 These observations show that the use of χαίρετε would have _____________ 60 61 62 63

See CEG 4; Loraux (1986) 138, 139, 142; Sourvinou-Inwood (1995a) 191-195. See Loraux (1981) 43-46, 100-105; (1982) 27-43; Vernant (1982) 45-76; (1990) 52-58. See Rossi (1999) 33. See Sourvinou-Inwood (1995a) 213, who argued that this sect might have even believed in apotheosis, the end product of continuous metempsychoses. Conversely, apotheosis is only a single aspect of Empedoclean thought, whereas metempsychosis (cf. B 115 DK, B 117 DK) constituted the dominant feature of Empedocles’ beliefs, the one closely associated with current Pythagorean and Orphic ideas. This epitaph may be reflecting just a partial endorsement of Empedoclean doctrine, perhaps embraced by a certain sect. See also Graf and Johnston (2007) 118, 172.

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enabled passers-by to recognize certain eschatological beliefs, with which they could identify themselves. Empedoclean conceptions could very well have belonged to an eschatological set of principles followed by a sect believing in metempsychosis.64 Moreover, Wright65 rightly draws attention to the fact that “Lucian66 quotes the whole line67 as a parting consequent on apotheosis, comparable to the farewell to life in Euripides Phoen. 1453.” 68 This fragment was very popular, and we can conclude that it had been popular as early as the 4th century BCE. We are in no position to know for sure what eschatological overtones were embedded in this epitaph, but it seems plausible to argue that the missing verse, should it have survived, would have supplied us with crucial information concerning the semantic disclosure of the expression εἰς ἀγαθὸν ἐνέποντες, which (within the context of CEG 520) may have a certain philosophical coloring. What follows is a list of relevant expressions from archaic epic: εἰπεῖν εἰς ἀγαθόν (Il. 9.102) μύθοισιν τέρποντο πρὸς ἀλλήλους ἐνέποντες (Il. 11.643) ἀλλ’ εὖ οἱ φάσθαι πυκινὸν ἔπος ἠδ’ ὑποθέσθαι (Il. 11.788) καί οἱ σημαίνειν· ὃ δὲ πείσεται εἰς ἀγαθόν περ (Il. 11.789) τερπέσθην μύθοισι, πρὸς ἀλλήλους ἐνέποντε (Od. 23.301)

The above parallels69 indicate the framework in which the missing verse belongs. This line would certainly have a positive tone, and would –in all probability- contain the correlative adverb τόσον (in response to ὅσον in the previous verse) as well as a finite verb. In this light, ἐς τόσσον μύθοις τερπόμεθ’ ἀσπάσιοι would have been a plausible substitution for the missing pentameter, but since no epigraphical evidence from the very stone is available to us, we do not need to rack our brains with replacement possibilities but rather leave the matter as it stands. _____________ 64

65 66 67 68 69

See Sourvinou-Inwood (1995a) 205. See also Kirk, Raven and Schofield (19832) 314, who compare Empedocles B 112.4 DK with the “greeting with which the deceased initiate of the mystery cults is received (apparently by Persephone) in the ‘golden plates’ of Thurii (dated to the fourth century B.C. and later).” For these tablets, see IG XIV, 641, 1 (line 1), DK 1B18 (=A1 Zuntz). Wright (19952) 265. See Lucian Pro lapsu inter salutandum 2. Empedocles B 112.4 DK (χαίρετ᾽…). Eur. Phoen. 1453: καὶ χαίρετ᾽˙ ἤδη γάρ με περιβάλλει σκότος. This list is far from complete. Its purpose is simply to show that the diction of CEG 520 is traditional.

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The expression ὁρῶ + αὐγήν is attested in the Homeric poems (Il. 16.188: ἐξάγαγε πρὸ φόωσδε καὶ ἠελίου ἴδεν αὐγάς),70 Theognis (426 [West]: μηδ’ ἐσιδεῖν αὐγὰς ὀξέος ἠελίου; 1183-1184 [West]: οὐδένα, Kύρν’, αὐγαὶ φαεσιμβρότου ἠελίοιο / ἄνδρα ἐφορῶσ’, ᾧ μὴ μῶμος ἐπικρέμαται) and Mimnermus (1.8 [West]: οὐδ’ αὐγὰς προσορῶν τέρπεται ἠελίου), but only in the plural (αὐγάς).71 The Doric ἀελίου instead of the Attic ἡλίου (λίπον ἡλίου αὐγάς: IG II2 5239=590 CEG) or the Ionic ἠελίου (ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς: IG II2 6004=511 CEG), is worth considering. Hansen72 notes that if Doric α is employed more than once in an Attic inscription, then one is entitled to speak of poetic coloring.73 Since, the Doric form ἀελίου is a ‘loner’ in an Attic text, it may well be the case that it has not been used for poetic coloring. Conversely, the use of the singular αὐγήν instead of the plural αὐγάς is well documented in Greek literature earlier than the 4th century BCE,74 but not within the framework of the abovementioned expression. These two deviations from formal practice constitute a covert indication of the effort undertaken by the epitaph’s author to cut the philosophical haughtiness of the Empedoclean backdrop by reapplying it to a ῾simple᾽ citizen. On such a reading, the author of the epigram mixed the light metaphor, typical in a funerary context, with some Empedoclean hints to create an idiosyncratic dictional amalgam. By blending epic-colored funerary imagery with philosophical material and dialectic variants, he was able to fuse into the artificial, often pseudo-epic _____________ 70

71

72

73

74

Il. 8.480-481 (ἥμενοι οὔτ’ αὐγῇς Ὑπερίονος Ἠελίοιο / τέρποντ’ οὔτ’ ἀνέμοισι, βαθὺς δέ τε Tάρταρος ἀμφίς) comes close to the aforementioned expression but is constructed with a different verb altogether. Euripides (Alc. 667, 868 and Hel. 1373) has compound forms of the verb ὁρῶ (εἰσορῶ, προσορῶν, εἰσορᾶν respectively) governing αὐγὰς but without the genitive ἠελίου/ἡλίου; the meaning is however the same (i.e. “to see the light of the sun”, namely “to be alive”). See CEG 576: “α Doricum pro η constanter scriptum est, id quod in titulis Atticis alioquin non fit (α Doricum non nisi singillatim ad colorem poeticum addendum usurpatur).” In this inscription (CEG 576) the constant use of Doric α (ἰφθίμαν, Δαμαινέτου, ἅδε, Kρατίσταν, φίλαν, ἅ) made Kaibel (1879, 26 ad epigramma 77) think that the Dorian Damainetos had married his (nonAthenian) daughter Kratista to the Athenian Archemachos. See Threatte (1980) 131 and Peek (1941a: 25) who shows that Doric α is mixed with η in metrical inscriptions as early as the Archaic Period. This is probably the case with CEG 512 and 520 where Doric α appears only once in each inscription. Compare (CEG 512) Doric ἀρετᾶς in verse 1 with Attic μῆτερ in verse 3, and (CEG 520) Doric ἀελίου with αὐγήν in line 6 and Attic γῆς in line 9. See LSJ s.v. αὐγή.

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language,75 so typical of Greek metrical inscriptions, a purely personal filter. The epitaph may be thus read as an experiment on subliterary composition embodying a confluence of both literary aspirations and religious coloring.

The Chamber(s) of Persephone One of the attestations of the expression ‘chamber(s) of Persephone’ is found in CEG 489, in connection with the death of a certain Glaukiades: τὸς ἀγαθὸς ἔστερξεν Ἄρης, ἐφίλησε δ’ ἔπαινος, | καὶ γήραι νεότης οὐ παρέδωχ’ ὑβρίσαι· | ὧγ καὶ Γ[λ]αυκιάδης δήιος ἀπὸ πατρίδος ἔργων̣ | ἦλθ’ ἐπ[ὶ] πάνδεκτον Φερσεφόνης θάλ<α>μον. Ares was fond of the agathoi, praise loved them, and youth did not hand them to old age so that they are insulted. Glaukiades, who was one of them, kept off his fatherland its enemies and went to the all-receiving chamber of Persephone.

The above epigram found in Menidi, in northern Attica, comes from four shards of a marble stele with a relief depicting a man and a woman in dexiosis. Between them stands a boy looking towards the male figure. There are three more shards, which come from the nonextant figures in the relief. It is now in the National Museum in Athens (n. 254). The epitaph consists of two elegiac couplets, which are inscribed one next (not after) to the other, in the following way:76 1…………………………2………………………… 3…………………………4…………………………

Spelling, phraseology and content indicate that this is one of the earliest fourth-century Attic epitaphs, bearing the marks of the clear-cut influence of the polyandria, which dominated sixth- and fifth-century funerary practice for those who have died in combat. In fact, the way the epitaph has been ‘displayed’ on the stele points to a specific interpretive approach. The two elegiac couplets are not placed one after the other but one next to each other. Juxtaposition interrupts linear _____________ 75

76

The same is the case with Ionic metrical inscriptions, which have Ionic η instead of Attic α. See Threatte (1980) 131. See Hansen CEG 489.

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sequence indicating that the two couplets retain something of their individuality, while not losing their cohesion within the framework of the whole composition. By making this observation I do not intend to undermine technical factors, such as the space available to the inscriber determining the way the epitaph should fit on the stone.77 At the same time, I would like to stress my belief that these two aspects, i.e. the interpretive and the technical, are not incompatible. The entire monument constitutes a unity and the text inscribed on it should be analysed within the representational framework it belongs to. In other words, even if space necessitated the juxtaposition of the two elegiac couplets, there was no need to create a clear-cut dichotomy between them. It may well be the case that the author of the epigram has influenced the mise en page of the text within the monument.78 Once this ‘separative’ process is identified, one is then more eager to accept the view that the aforementioned dichotomy was reinforced and highlighted by the way the inscription was ‘presented’ to its audience. The epitaph follows traditional thematic patterns, which are recurrent in epitaphs. Although its first part seems to bear recognizable traces of the polyandria rhetoric of praise for the war dead, a close examination of the epitaph’s diction shows that apart from the word Ἄρης, which is not attested in fourth-century Attic epigrams79 (with the exception of CEG 609.3: ... Ἄρεω]ς ἐν ἀγῶσι δαμέντα), the rest of the epigram’s diction belongs predominantly to the 4th century. In particular, στέργω, φιλέω, ἔπαινος, γήρας, νεότης are not attested in metrical inscriptions dating between the 8th -5th centuries but are amply employed in the 4th. Likewise Φερσεφόνη is used predominantly in the 4th century but only once before that period (CEG 301.3, which is a dedication, not a grave epigram). In Attica Ἅ(ι)δης is frequently employed in grave epigrams antedating the 4th century, but it is only three times attested (CEG 490: [Ó Ô˘Ô Ó Ô˘Ô Ó πο̣λ̣υ̣δέ]γ̣μονι δ’ ἐστὶ παρ’ Ἅιδηι; 591.5: ὦ πολύκλαυθ’ Ἅιδη; 597: βασίλεια Ἀί<δ>αο) in fourthcentury inscribed epitaphs from the same area. Δήιος is rarely attested in metrical inscriptions. Only the verbal form δαιώσας is attested in a single fifth-century epigram (CEG 83.2) from Attica. During _____________ 77

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Pace Mylonas (1879, 359), who thinks that verses 1-2 of the epigram have been inscribed on the left and verses 3-4 on the right only “διὰ τὴν οἰκονομίαν τοῦ τόπου.” I would like to thank Marco Fantuzzi for this point. The word Ἄρης is attested three times in fourth-century non-Attic epitaphs (CEG 627.2, 658.4, 694.1) and once (CEG 866.1) in a dedicatory epigram from Astypalaea.

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the entire 4th century there are two more (other than CEG 489) attestations of δήιους (CEG 795.21) and of δηι̣[ώσαντες] (CEG 824.9) in dedicatory inscriptions, the former from Thessaly and the latter from Arcadia. The use of δήιος (= δῄους) in CEG 489 has an elegiac coloring. 80 It is constantly employed by Greek elegiac poets, as the following examples amply show:81 (a) Archilochus 58.7 West: ] τ̣ε̣ δηϊων[....]ρ̣θ̣[, 89.3 West: δηΐων, αὐαίνετ̣[αι δέ, 139.5 West: ]ς ἔντος δηϊοισεμ[; (b) Theognis 552 West: δήιων γάρ σφ’ ἀνδρῶν ἀντιάσειν δοκέω; (c) Tyrtaeus 11.18 West: ἀνδρὸς φεύγοντος δηίῳ ἐν πολέμῳ, 11.30 West: ἦ ξίφει οὐτάζων δήιον ἄνδρ’ ἑλέτω, 12.12 West: καὶ δῄων ὀρέγοιτ’ ἐγγύθεν ἱστάμενος; (d) Solon 29b, 34.5 West: λοξὸν ὀφθαλμοῖς ὁρῶσι πάντες ὥστε δήιον; (e) Mimnermus 14.9 West: οὐ γάρ τις κείνου δῄων ὅτ’ ἀμεινότερος φώς. Likewise, abstract terms like γῆρας and νεότης had been frequently employed by elegiac poets, who had attributed to the former negative epithets, like κακόν (Archilochus 188.2 West, Theognis 1011 West, Mimnermus 4.1 West, Solon 24.10 West), ἀργαλέον (Theognis 1132 West, Mimnermus 1.10, 2.6, 5.5 West), ἀργαλέον καὶ ἄμορφον (Mimnermus 5.5 West), οὐλόμενον (Theognis 272, 768, 1012 West), ὀδυνηρόν (Mimnermus 1.5 West), ῥίγιον (Mimnermus 4.2 West), ἄζηλον (Semonides 1.11 West). In addition to these elegiac overtones, Theognis 797-798 (West) offers an interesting analogy to the first two verses of CEG 489. The two texts run as follows: τοὺς ἀγαθοὺς ἄλλος μάλα μέμφεται, ἄλλος ἐπαινεῖ, τῶν δὲ κακῶν μνήμη γίνεται οὐδεμία. (Theognis 797-798, West) τὸς ἀγαθὸς ἔστερξεν Ἄρης, ἐφίλησε δ’ ἔπαινος, | καὶ γήραι νεότης οὐ παρέδωχ’ ὑβρίσαι· | (CEG 489.1-2)

According to Theognis, the ἀγαθοί will be remembered through blame or praise, whereas the evil ones will be forgotten. The dividing line between the agathoi and the kakoi is dictionally and even metrically drawn by (a) stating what will be the former’s future fate while maintaining what will not be the latter’s, i.e. by using assertive and negative expressions respectively, and (b) exhausting the longer space offered by the hexameter for the former while dedicating the shorter pentameter to the latter. Likewise, the anonymous author of CEG 489 has used positive expressions in the longer hexameter verse and a _____________ 80 81

It also has ‘light’ epic overtones, as the following examples show: δηϊοτής (Il. 3.20), δήϊος (6.481, 7.119). For Iambic and Elegiac poets the numeration and text used is that of West’s (Oxford) edition.

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negative one in the shorter pentameter that follows. Here, there is no antithesis between two groups of people but a more subtle interactive game between climactically used abstract terms. War and praise become the conceptual scaffolding upon which the ensuing antithesis of the pentameter is based. The built-in link between war and praise is efficiently highlighted through the use of love-vocabulary (στέργω – φιλέω are regularly used for humans) that is reflected in the traditional youth-old age motif. The agathoi died young at war, at the best time of their lives, before old age could take hold of them and wear out their strength and beauty. Homer (Il. 22.71-76) and Tyrtaeus (10.21-30 West) are, of course, the loci classici for this motif, but here the anonymous author aims deeper. Before I embark on clarifying the way the aforementioned score of lyric expressions works within this metrical inscription, I would like to briefly dwell on the function of the deceased’s name. Γ[λ]αυκιάδης is no doubt the name of the deceased but it may also have some relevance to the odd expression τὸς ἀγαθὸς ἔστερξεν Ἄρης featuring in the beginning of the epitaph. In a late sixth- or early fifth-century sepulchral epigram from Corcyra (CEG 145), Ares is called χαροπός (grim): σᾶμα τόδε Ἀρνιάδα· χαροπὸς τόνδ’ ὄλε|σεν Ἄρες / βαρνάμενον παρὰ ναυσ|ὶν ἐπ’ Ἀράθθοιο ρhοFαῖσι, / πολλὸ|ν ἀριστεύοντα κατὰ στονόFεσαν ἀFυτάν. According to Ecker,82 who has carefully studied this inscription, the epithet χαροπός is in direct contrast both to the description of the deceased in the two following hexameters and also, one might add, to traditional epithets attributed to Ares. The god of war is typically described as ἀνδρόφονος (manslaying),83 βροτολοιγός (plague of men, bane of men),84 Ἐνυάλιος ἀνδρειφόντης (man-slaying Enyalios),85 μάχλος (wanton, insolent),86 μιαιφόνος (murderous, blood-thirsty),87 ὄβριμος (strong, mighty), 88 φοίνιος/φόνιος (blood-stained, murderous),89 ὠμόφρων (savageminded).90 The epithet χαροπός (grim) is etymologically connected to sight and it is now translated as ‘flashing-eyed’. Latacz91 has argued in _____________ 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91

Ecker (1990) 74 n. 151, 76. See Il. 4.441; Hes. Sc. 98. See Il. 5.31= 5.455, 5.518, 5.846, 5.909, 8.349, 11.295, 12.130, 13.298, 13.802, 20.46, 21.421. See Il. 2.651, 7.166=8.264=17.259. See Aesch. Suppl. 635. See Il. 5.31 = 5.455, 5.844, 21.402. See Il. 5.845, 13.444 = 16.613 = 17.529, 13.521, 15.112. See Soph. El. 96; Eur. Phoen. 1006, IA 773. See Eur. El. 1260. Latacz (1966) 42.

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favor of both an early connection of χαροπός and γλαυκός (glaring, glittering menacingly),92 which denoted a specific face-expression, and also a later link between the two words, when they tended to express eye-color. Given the contrast between the flashing-eyed and terrible looking Ares, whose eyesight like the Γοργοῦς ὄμματα makes his enemies freeze, and the brave Arniadas who, as the metonymic wordplay upon his name displays, died in war, one is entitled to see a similar effect in CEG 489. The name Γ<λ>αυκιάδης can be interpreted within the nexus of secondary functions attributed to Ares, god of war, featuring in the unattested expression τὸς ἀγαθὸς ἔστερξεν Ἄρης that inaugurates this epitaph. Γ<λ>αυκιάδης, the man with glittering eyes, belongs to the agathoi loved and cherished by Ares, who is also the god whose eyes flash menacingly. This intricate interpretation explains the use of Ares within the framework of a hitherto unattested expression as an effort to balance the lack of any mention of relatives, who have been replaced by Ares and ἔπαινος (praise), in whose figurative ‘family’ Γ<λ>αυκιάδης belonged. Read against this background, the lyric section of the epitaph is anchored to its overall structure culminating in the imagery of the chambers of Persephone. Lyric motifs mark the content of the epigram as acceptable for cultural memorability, while the language of praise brings together past and present by linking the deceased to a ‘human pantheon’ of well-known and established lyric paradigms. The entire second part of the epitaph (verses 3-4) is introduced by the anaphoric ὧγ, which is highlighted by its emphatic placement in verse-initial position. Moreover, the visual dichotomy between the first and the second part of the epigram is underscored by the juxtaposition of verses 1-2 and verses 3-4, as well as by their metrical analogy (one elegiac couplet next to the other). Iconizing this dichotomy recalls our modern typographical and, now, computer-based means that enable us to reenact semantic differences and subordinated argumentation, such as paragraphisation, use of bold, italic, and underlined characters, font- and letter-size changes, section- and pagebreaks. This iconization93 keys the reader to a specific interpretive note in respect of disclosing the function of anaphoric ὧγ opening the second couplet,94 whose meaning is something like ‘it is of these _____________ 92 93 94

See LfgrE s.v. γλαῦκος [Beck]. On the epigram as an ‘Ikonotext’, see Petrovic (2005) 30-42. The ὧγ καί may serve a function analogous to that of ὅν ποτε/hόν ποτ’ in CEG 27.2 (Attica ca. 540-530). Since ὅν ποτε “suggests a transmission of warrior’s memory simultaneously among his kinship group (drawing on the genealogical aspect) and among his cultural group at large (drawing on the

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agathoi that Glaukiades formed part, Glaukiades who by keeping the enemy out of his fatherland went to the all-receiving chamber of Persephone.’ The πάνδεκτος Φερσεφόνης θάλαμος95 should be interpreted within a framework of both literal and social norms, as signifying a new community Γλαυκιάδης has now been integrated into, the community of the dead. This hapax legomenon in all of Ancient Greek literature96 balances the specific reference to the war dead in the first part of the epigram. Γλαυκιάδης is represented as oscillating between the community of praised young warriors who died for their country and the new community of dead where he now belongs. The expression Φερσεφόνης θάλαμος is not used before the 4th century and seems to have replaced expressions such as δῶμα or δώματα Ἀΐδαο/ᾍδου. One might be tempted to read into this the spread of Eleusinian cult, but things are actually rather blurred. In fact, this might be the by-product of the widespread trend of erecting private monuments for the dead in fourth-century Attica. In sixth- and fifthcentury polyandria the expressions δῶμα or δώματα Ἀΐδαο/Ἅιδου were consonant with epic coloring permeating their diction. We cannot know for certain, because of their scantiness, whether the expression Φερσεφόνης θάλαμος would have been attested in fifth-century private epitaphs. By offering access to cultural memory,97 CEG 489 aims at bridging literary knowledge and current eschatological beliefs. The epitaph deftly encapsulates an individual’s sacrifice for his fatherland by fully exploiting a coherent thematic trajectory of motifs, abstract nouns and diction circulating in lyric poetry. Reading the epitaph’s diction in context, namely in both its physical environment (the grave monument) and its social and historical matrix, is crucial for a further understanding of the function of the entire monument-inscription structure. On the monument one can still see traces of two figures, a man and a woman in dexiosis, and a boy looking towards the man. In fifth-century Athens, dexiosis or hand_____________

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epic phrase)”, as Derderian (2001, 100-101) argues, ὧγ καί can equally mark the interconnection between the two communities of our epitaph, that of the ἀγαθοί who died in action and that of the dead who flock the chambers of Persephone. For the notion of the θάλαμοι of the dead, cf. the following parallels from fifth century tragedy: Aesch. Pers. 624: σύ τε πέμπε χοὰς θαλάμους ὕπο γῆς; Soph. Ant. 804-805: τὸν παγκοίτην ὅθ’ ὁρῶ θάλαμον / τήνδ’ Ἀντιγόνην ἀνύτουσαν, 946-947: κρυπτομένα δ’ ἐν τυμβ-/ ήρει θαλάμῳ κατεζεύχθη; Eur. Suppl. 1022: Φερσεφόνης ἥξω θαλάμους; Her. 807-808: ὃς γᾶς ἐξέβας θαλάμων / Πλούτωνος δῶμα λιπὼν νέρτερον. See the supplement of LSJ s.v. πανδέκτης. See Derderian (2001) 95 n. 122.

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shaking visually highlights the profound integration of the individual in the polis-system and stands for democratic solidarity.98 Conversely, in fourth-century Athens the appearance of the dexiosis motif shows that fifth-century practice has not been abandoned but has rather followed a new course. Stronger differentiation of human characteristics and a new interest in ‘personalized’ themes such as women, family and personal feelings displays a significant change of scope. Fourthcentury Athenian grave-reliefs are built in the period between the end of the Peloponnesian War and the Gräberluxusverbot of Demetrius of Phaleron, when a growing tension between household and state (a tension which had begun from the last quarter of the previous century) can be witnessed. This being the case, the dexiosis, expressing a personal, individualized farewell scene highlighting Γ<λ>αυκιάδης in family terms, should be treated as the social matrix upon which the epitaph must be intepreted. The epigram’s lyric diction builds upon the familiar love-war antithesis. Love vocabulary (such as στέργω and φιλέω attested in the first line of the inscription) and ἀπείργειν (to shut somebody out of something, to keep away) may have sexual or erotic and military connotations.99 These understatements blend in quite well with Γ<λ>αυκιάδης, an ἀνήρ ἀγαθός, whose excellence in war is a kind of love for his fatherland from which he has shut out the enemy, only to be received in the chamber of Persephone. The opposition between shutting out the enemy and being received in the chamber of Persephone (θάλαμος is another word with latent erotic connotations as it also refers to the wedding chamber) shows that ‘love and death’ vocabulary100 has been mixed in order to suggest the transfer and reapplication of a theme normally used for the oikos to the fatherland. The country is ‘treated’ as a parthenos, since its enemies are kept out of its borders in the manner that the parthenos has kept at a distance all lovers. Glaukiades has been eventually received to the chamber of Hades’ concubine, the almighty Persephone. The entire composition elaborately displays how fifth-century ideals, such as an individual’s sacrifice of his life for his fatherland, have being fused with fourth-century cultural politics, when the importance of the family element steadily grows. The household-oriented imagery denoted both by the sculpted _____________ 98 99 100

See Breuer (1995) 101. See e.g. Aesch. Sept. 471: πόλεως ἀπείργειν τῆσδε δούλιον ζυγόν. For the link between love and war in Greek culture, see Thornton (1997) 2331. For the use of military vocabulary in a Sapphic erotic context, see Rissman (1983).

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farewell scene (with father, mother and son) and by the parthenos imagery speak for the progressive limitation of preferred fifth-century motifs which are now re-oriented towards more personal aspects of life. In another two-verse private epitaph (CEG 510), Persephone’s chamber keeps the deceased Phanagora: (i) Φιλοστράτη Φίλωνος. (ii) Φίλων Kαλλίπο | Aἰξωνεύς. (iii) ἐνθάδε τὴν πάσης ἀρετῆς ἐπὶ τέρμα μολο̃σαν| Φαναγόραν κατέχει Φερσεφόνης θάλαμος. (iv) Ἀλκιμάχη | Kαλλιμάχου | Ἀναγυρασίο[υ].

4

(i) Philostrate, daughter of Philon. (ii) Philon, son of Kallipos, from Aixone. (iii) In this place, the chamber of Persephone holds Phanagora who arrived at the peak/end of all arete. (iv) Alkimache, daughter of Kallimachos, from Anagyrous.

The two-verse epitaph (3-4) containing a brief commemoration of Phanagora is placed between the extra metrum names of some of her relatives. It is inscribed on a marble stele with an anthemion, which is truncated on its head. It was found somewhere between Piraeus and the port Phoron, facing the island of Salamis. It is now in the museum of Leiden.101 As in the previous epitaph, the chamber of Persephone stands for the place of the deceased’s arrival. The use of a verb of motion (μολο̃σαν) is natural,102 since it forms integral part of the wellestablished theme of the road towards virtue. This road being long and steep, like the road of Arete followed by Heracles, requires strenuous effort and toil, if one intends to arrive at its end.103 This is a typical motif in early Greek thought with abundant parallels in literary texts of the archaic and classical period. I offer the following list of relevants passages: 1. Hes. Works and Days 289-291: τῆς δ’ ἀρετῆς ἱδρῶτα θεοὶ προπάροιθεν ἔθηκαν / ἀθάνατοι· μακρὸς δὲ καὶ ὄρθιος οἶμος ἐς αὐτὴν / καὶ τρηχὺς τὸ πρῶτον· ἐπὴν δ’ εἰς ἄκρον ἵκηται 2. Sem. 1.11-12: φθάνει δὲ τὸν μὲν γῆρας ἄζηλον λαβὸν / πρὶν τέρμ’ ἵκηται, …

_____________ 101 102 103

For further bibliography on this inscription, see Hansen CEG 510. See also ἦλθ᾽ ἐπ[ὶ] πάνδεκτον Φερσεφόνης θάλ<α>μον (CEG 489). See Skiadas (1967) 77.

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Chapter 2 3. Sim. 8.11-13: ὡς χρόνος ἔσθ’ ἥβης καὶ βιότου ὀλίγος / θνητοῖς. ἀλλὰ σὺ ταῦτα μαθὼν βιότου ποτὶ τέρμα / ψυχῇ τῶν ἀγαθῶν τλῆθι χαριζόμενος 4. Tyrt. 14: πρὶν ἀρετῆς πελάσαι τέρμασιν ἢ θανάτου 5. Theogn. 1187-1188: οὔτις ἄποινα διδοὺς θάνατον φύγοι οὐδὲ βαρεῖαν / δυστυχίην, εἰ μὴ μοῖρ’ ἐπὶ τέρμα βάλοι 6. Aesch. fr. 362.2 (TrGF 3, Radt): θνῄσκει τις, εἰ μὴ τέρμα συντρέχει βίου 7. Soph. OT 1529-1530: ... πρὶν ἂν / τέρμα τοῦ βίου περάσῃ μηδὲν ἀλγεινὸν παθών 8. Eur. Alc. 643: ὃς τηλικόσδ᾽ ὢν κἀπὶ τέρμ᾽ ἥκων βίου 9. Xen. SC 10.1: ἐπὶ γὰρ τῷ τέρματι τοῦ βίου τὴν κρίσιν τῆς γεροντίας προσθεὶς ἐποίησε μηδὲ ἐν τῷ γήρᾳ ἀμελεῖσθαι τὴν καλοκἀγαθίαν.

This theme becomes also common in funerary epigrams, mainly in Attica but also in various other places of the Greek-speaking world: (a) Attic epitaphs: CEG 513.4 (ἐνθάδε τὴν πάσης ἀρετῆς ἐπὶ τέρ[μα μολο̃]σαν), CEG 527.2 (ἐνθάδε τὸν πάσης ἀρετῆς ἐπὶ τ|έρμα μολόντα |), CEG 586.5 (Δαιοκράτης [sic] κοινοῦ [sic] τέρμα ἐπέρησε βίου |), CEG 606.3 (... γήρως τέρμα μολὼν πρὸς ἄκρον, |), CEG 609.1 ([Ó Ô˘Ô Ó Ô˘Ô Ó Ô]ατο π̣<ρ>ὸς τέρμα κελε̣<ύ>θο<υ> ´). (b) Non-Attic epitaphs: CEG 630.1 from Boeotia (οὐκ ἔστ’ οὐδὲν τέρμα βίου θνητῶν ἐπινοίας |), CEG 651.2 from Opuntian Locri (πατρίδος ἀκρόπολιν τέρμ’ ἔλαβεν βιότου), CEG 692.1-2 from Rhodes (τόνδε ποτ’ Ἀρχίπολιν δαίμων ἐπὶ τέρματα πάσης / προσβαίνοντ’ ἀρετῆς ...).104 In the light of such widespread diffusion, both in literary texts and on grave-epigrams, the quest for the provenance of the aforementioned expression seems off the mark. In fact, this is a subdivision of a larger motif, i.e. that of the “comparison of life to a journey along a road leading to death.” 105 On the other hand, the fact that this motif begins to be used in fourth-century epitaphs (mainly in Attica) but not before this period consitutes a covert indication that the influence of collections of epigrams (in which Sim. 8.11-13 and Theogn. 1187-1188 may have belonged) and Attic tragedy have, in all probability, played an important role.106 This typical motif acquires a new inner dynamic triggered by its juxtaposition to and combination with the theme of Persephone’s chamber, which also recurs in fourth-century Attic epitaphs. In a previous epigram (CEG 489), where the imagery was em_____________ 104 105

106

See Pircher (1979) 24-26. See Lattimore (1942) 169, who thinks that this metaphor has become a commonplace ever since but is not frequently attested in ancient inscriptions. Unfortunately he fails to examine the expression ἐπὶ τέρμα μολόντα/μολο̃σαν. On the influence of tragic vocabulary on the diction of fourth-century Attic epitaphs, see chapter 4.

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ployed in reference to a male citizen (Glaukiades), it was the interplay between erotic and military vocabulary that enhanced the antithesis between life and death. In this case, the antithesis is based on blurring the boundaries between the bridal aspect of a woman’s life and her arrival at the house of the dead. The chamber of Persephone is a well-established metaphor of Euripidean origin. In the Suppliants (1022), Euripides employs the expression Περσεφόνης ἥκω θαλάμους to refer to the Underworld107 and during the 4th century this becomes a common motif in Attic grave epigrams. The influence of the Great Mysteries at Eleusis must be a determining factor that explains the wide and systematic use of this metaphor in Attic sepulchral epigrams. The myth of Persephone with her abduction by Hades and her transfer to the Underworld, Demeter’s sorrowful peregrination and the gods’ decision to allow Persephone to stay six months in the Underworld and six months on earth furnished popular imagination with a wealth of motifs that could be put to good use in funerary epigrams, especially those dedicated to women. For females, the use of the expression Περσεφόνης θάλαμος would have been of special value, for it would have helped the reader of the inscription visualize, on the one hand, the (bridal) chamber a married woman possessed when she was alive, and on the other hand, the new, dark and gloomy, abode she dwells in after her death. At the same time, the well-known myth of Persephone who stays for half of the year in the Underworld and half of the year on the face of the earth, facilitates audience/readership reception. Περσεφόνης θάλαμος is a specific interpretive regulation shaping Phanagora’s (the name of the deceased) description through the epitaph. A possible link between the deceased’s name (Φαναγόρα < φάος + ἀγείρω: to collect/gather light) and the Eleusinian cult should not be lightly excluded. The choice of the expression Persephone’s chamber may have been, on a secondary level, promoted by an effort to create a link between Phanagora’s name, her dictional identity, and the epitaph itself. An invariable part of the whole Eleusinian cult was “the annual torchlight procession of the initiates along the Sacred Way from Athens to Eleusis. The use of torches, and light in general, was an important part of the Eleusinian ritual. Apart from the παννυχίς of torch-bearing ini_____________ 107

Skiadas (1967) 78 n. 4. Skiadas argues that Euripides may have invented the metaphor, for as he observes “neither does AP 7.489 (δέξατο Περσεφόνης κυάνεος θάλαμος) belong to Sappho nor AP 7.507b (κατέβην τὸν ἄφυκτον / ... ξανθῆς Περσεφόνης θάλαμον) to Simonides.” Skiadas (1967, 78 n. 5) plausibly argues that the use of θάλαμος designating the realm of the dead is Aeschylean (Pers. 624: θαλάμους ὕπο γῆς).

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tiates at the sanctuary of Demeter and Kore, the climactic moment of the mystic ceremony was characterized by an abundance of light.” 108 The torchlight procession reenacts on the level of cult an important phase of the myth, i.e. Demeter’s vain wandering in search of her abducted daughter. Likewise, the abundance of light the initiates experienced when the ἱεροφάντης came out from the Telesterion in Eleusis represented the reenactment of another phase of the myth, namely the return of Persephone from the Underworld (either with Hekate or Persephone herself holding torches).109 Phanagora, like the torchbearers marching in the Sacred Way arrived at the end of the road of all arete, only to be held by the chamber of Persephone. Interestingly enough, in Sophocles’ OC 89, Oedipus’ arrival at Colonus is likened to the toilsome peregrination of Demeter and the very wording of the passage (ἐλθόντι χώραν τερμίαν) bears striking similarities to the ἐπὶ τέρμα μολο̃σαν expression attested in those grave epigrams employing the metaphor of the road of virtue. Likewise, one could argue that Phanagora (whose name means “gathering, collecting light”) and her toilsome peregrination on the road of ἀρετή reached the end (τέρμα), when she descended into the house of Persephone.110 In IG II2 6004=CEG 511, the light-metaphor is juxtaposed to the imagery of Persephone’s chamber, which is here designated as Persephone’s house: (i) Nικόβολος Mυν|νίχο Eἰτεαῖος. (ii) σῆς ἀρετῆς ἕστηκεν ἐν Ἑλλάδι | πλεῖστα τρόπαια ἔν τε ἀνδρῶν | ψυχαῖς, οἷος ἐὼν ἔλιπες, Nικόβ|ολε, ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς, Περσεφ|όνης δὲ δ[ῶμ]α ποθεινὸς ἐὼν σοῖ|[σι φίλο]ις κατέβας. (i) Nikobolos, son of Mynnichos, an Eitean. (ii) Many trophies of your virtue are set both in Greece and also in men’s souls. Being such a man you left behind,

_____________ 108 109 110

Markantonatos (2002) 199. See Parisinou (2000) 60-71, 85-88, 93-96, 124-126, 136-150 with abundant bibliography. See Chantraine, Dict. Étym. s.v. φαίνω. Philippson (1944) 69-89 argued that in Thessaly the goddesses Demeter and Pheraia (Φεραία) were one and the same. Moreover, Parisinou (2000, 89) refers to the view of Daffa-Nikonanou (1973, 29) that Φεραία was also known by the epithet Φωσφόρος, although this epithet does not appear in inscriptions before the 2nd century. See also Daffa-Nikonanou (1973) 29; Richardson (1974) 169; Parisinou (2000) 89. Hecate was also called Ἀμφίπυρος, Δᾳδοῦχος, Δαιδοφόρος, Πυρφόρος, Φαεσφωρίη. See also Markantonatos (2002) 203 n. 57 with Dover’s interesting observation that it is possible that the Chorus of the Sophoclean OC represented people who had been initiated at Eleusis.

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Nikobolos, the bright light of the sun, and to Persephone’s house you descended, being longed for by your friends.

Apart from the light imagery (ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς), which I have already examined, the above grave epigram makes use of the motif of Persephone’s chamber in the form of Persephone’s house (Περσεφόνης ... δῶμα ... κατέβας). The typical expression Περσεφόνης θάλαμον/θαλάμους/θαλάμων undergoes significant changes. The first is the obvious shift from θάλαμος to δῶμα. The use of diction pertaining to the same semantical field must be evaluated against the backdrop of the reappropriation of tragic material to produce nuances of meaning. What has caused the use of the word δῶμα together with the genitive Περσεφόνης? The question is well justified, if we bear in mind that this is the only attestation of this expression in fourth-century Attic grave epigrams. Gender-considerations must be excluded, for the Περσεφόνης θάλαμος formula is used for both men and women alike.111 This time though the verb κατέβας, another hapax within the framework of the Περσεφόνης θάλαμος formula, builds a matrix of complementary features constituting integral part of the author’s technique of formulaic splitting.112 This seems to be a rather personal mannerism, for it is used consistently within a limited space. Attesting to this is the formulaic expression ἡλίου/ἠελίου φάος/φῶς + λείπω, which has been bisected by the insertion of a prima facie redundant apostrophe to the deceased that is textually embedded in the middle of the epitaph, despite the fact that the dead man’s name is clearly stated extra metrum on the stone, inscribed above the grave epigram. The same observation applies mutatis mutandis to the formula κατέχει Περσεφόνης θάλαμος. The desire to place the former almost at verse-terminal position and the latter at verse-initial has resulted in the need to use δῶμα instead of θάλαμος, as the latter is regularly used at a pentameter’s verse end, not at its beginning. This observation explains the use of δῶμα but not the desire to disjoin the words Περσεφόνης and θάλαμος and to detach them even more from their verbal accompaniment, which is curtailed until the verse end (κατέβας). The separation between the words Περσεφόνης and θάλαμος may have been caused by the desire to juxtapose the name of Persephone with the formula ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς. This juxtaposition _____________ 111 112

See CEG 489, CEG 545 (without Φερσεφόνης), CEG 593. The verbs used for this expression are (κατ)έχει/κατέχε (CEG 510, 513, 563, 593), οἴχεται/ᾤχου (CEG 545, 575), ἦλθε (CEG 489), στείχω (CEG 592), κεῖνται (CEG 571), χάρις ἐστίν (CEG 603).

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aims at highlighting the antithesis between life and death. Nikobolos left the bright light of the sun, a synonym of life, and descended to the house of Persephone, a symbol of darkness and death. The opposition is further reinforced by the use of the participial constructions οἷος ἐών and ποθεινὸς ἐὼν σοῖ|[σι φίλο]ις, which make an encomiastic point and add a nostalgic color to the commemoration of the deceased respectively. The former looks back at the physical and metaphorical trophies of Nikobolos’ virtue, whereas the latter recalls the longing, regret and desire left in his friends’ hearts now that he has descended into the realm of the dead. By infixing the phrase ποθεινὸς ἐὼν σοῖ[σι φίλο]ις between Περσεφόνης δ[ῶμ]α and κατέβας, the author of the epigram was able to postpone the verbal idea (κατέβας) until the very end of the verse that coincides with the epitaph’s completion. In this light, one can see how the author of the inscription changed the wording and placement of the traditional metaphor of Persephone’s chamber. By adopting the technique of formulaic splitting, he was able to juxtapose the two key metaphors employed in the epitaph and so dramatically underscore the antithesis between life and death. In CEG 513, Persephone’s chamber holds Mnesarete, who has left behind her whole family: (i) Mνησαρέτη Σωκράτος. (ii) ἥδε πόσιν τ’ ἔλιπεν καὶ ἀδελφὸς μητρί τε πένθος καὶ τέκνον μεγάλης τε ἀρετῆς εὔκλεαν ἀγήρω. (iii) ἐνθάδε τὴμ πάσης ἀρετῆς ἐπὶ τέρ[μα μολο̃]σαν Mνησαρέτηγ κατέχε Φερσεφόνης θ<ά>λαμος.

4

(i) Mnesarete, daughter of Socrates. (ii) This woman left behind her husband and her brothers and mourning for her mother and (she also left behind) her child and undecaying good reputation of her great virtue. (iii) In this place, Persephone’s chamber holds Mnesarete, who arrived at the end of all virtue.

The second elegiac couplet (ἐνθάδε ... θ<ά>λαμος) is identical with Phanagora’s epitaph (CEG 510). In this case, the formulaic expression ἀρετῆς ἐπὶ τέρ[μα μολο̃]σαν blends in effectively with the deceased’s name Mνησαρέτη.113 In Phanagora’s inscription I have suggested that the use of one form of imagery instead of another may have been in_____________ 113

On the road-metaphor, see Becker (1937). On the pun on Mnesarete’s name, see Fantuzzi (2008).

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fluenced, among other things, by an effort to create a link between the individual and the use of typical motifs. By aiming at a confluence of personal elements of the deceased’s life with traditional patterns employed in funerary epigrams or poetry in general, the author of the epitaph was able to produce a fascinating combination. Trying to win a readership was not an easy task. The versifier of the grave epigram had to invent ways in order to lump together in a limited space a reference to the death of a specific individual with the use of well-known poetic topics, which would be easily recognizable by any potential reader. CEG 513 is exemplary in respect of the aforementioned combination of a personal tone with traditional expressions. In fact, the first couplet (ἥδε πόσιν τ’ ἔλιπεν καὶ ἀδελφὸς μητρί τε πένθος / καὶ τέκνον μεγάλης τε ἀρετῆς εὔκλεαν ἀγήρω) informs the ‘reader’ of the particulars of Mnesarete’s life. There is no mention of how she died, only of whom and what she left behind. The so-called ‘nähere Angabe’ are here mixed in a rather awkward way. The deceased’s mother is the only one who does not appear in the accusative. Instead, the author of the inscription has chosen the word πένθος and in the next verse εὔκλεαν ἀγήρω, which he has paratactically linked to the members of Mnesarete’s family (εὔκλεαν ἀγήρω belongs to standard praising diction114 and is used in funerary literature - both laments and funeral orations). By resorting to a zeugmatic use of the verb λείπειν, the author is able to create an amalgam of two distinct, but equally typical, expressions: (A1) leaving behind dear ones, and (A2) leaving pain and suffering to their hearts (in both cases λείπειν is literally, not metaphorically used); (B) leaving behind glory as a ‘metaphorical’ part of the dead individual, who is destined to survive Mnesarete together with other members of her family. Both verses begin with (A) and are completed with (B). This creates a certain syntactical clumsiness115 but the effect is noteworthy. This rebus-like syntax playing on the violation of dictional expectations paves the way for attracting the attention of a future passer-by, since it indulges in a game with generic typology and unexpected twists in phrasing. _____________ 114 115

See e.g. Pind. Pyth. 2.52: κῦδος ἀγήραον. The author could very well have avoided syntactical clumsiness (Fantuzzi [2008] calls it ‘harsh zeugma’), if he wanted to express only the idea of ‘leaving mourning and undecaying good reputation of her virtue to her relatives.’ In that case he could have written πόσει, ἀδελφοῖς, τέκνωι instead of πόσιν, ἀδελφός, τέκνον without changing the meter.

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Having exploited syntactical liberty in the first hexametric couplet where arete is presented “as a guarantee for public survival”,116 the anonymous author turns now to a heavily formulaic elegiac distich, which he makes fit to Mnes-arete’s name. Remembering or recalling (μνησ-) one’s virtue (ἀρετή) is indeed a suitable name for funerary poetry, the more so since arete constitutes a standard fourthcentury ideal creeping up quite often in Attic private epigrams. Mnesarete’s arete has been already mentioned in the first couplet, where it was modified by the epithet μεγάλη (μεγάλης ἀρετῆς), which in its turn ties up quite effectively with πάσης ἀρετῆς. In this way, arete, which is ‘innate’ in the deceased’s name, becomes the unifying motif of the entire inscription, since it appears in some form or other in all three parts (Mνησαρέτη, μεγάλης τε ἀρετῆς, πάσης ἀρετῆς).117 In CEG 571, the imagery concerning Persephone’s chamber is enriched by the juxtaposition of Persephone and Pluton in the Underworld.118 (i) _Mέλιττα¥ Ἀπολλοδώρου | ἰσοτελοῦ θυγάτηρ | (ii) Mέλιττα | (iii) τίτθη. (iv) ἐνθάδε τὴν χρηστὴν τ̣ί[̣ τθ]ην κατὰ γαῖα καλύπτ|ει Ἱπποστράτης, καὶ νῦν π[ο]θ̣εῖ σε. καὶ ζῶσάν σ’ ἐφίλ|ουν, τίτθη, καὶ νῦν σ’ ἔτι τιμῶ 4 οὖσαν καὶ κατὰ γῆς, | καὶ τιμήσω σε ἄχρι ἂν ζῶ. οἶδα δὲ σοὶ ὅτι καὶ κατὰ [γ]|ῆς, εἴπερ χρηστοῖς γέρας ἐ̣στίν, πρώτει σοι τι̣[μα]|ί, τίτθη, παρὰ Φερσεφόνει Πλούτωνί τε κεῖνται. (i) Melitta, daughter of Apollodorus, an isoteles. (ii) Melitta. (iii) The nurse. (iv) Here the earth below covers the worthy nurse of Hippostrate, who now longs for you. As long as I was alive I loved you, nurse, and now I still honor you, though you are below the earth, and I will honor you as long as I live.

_____________ 116 117

118

Fantuzzi (2008). See Fantuzzi (2008), who argues that “the second distich focuses on mortal life as fulfilment of complete ‘virtue’ qua an individual feature concerning the prior existence of the deceased.” Fantuzzi (2008) makes the interesting suggestion that the versifier of CEG 513 “reshaped the conventional funerary model exemplified by CEG 527 in order to include the survival of the renown for virtue as an appreciable element of the relevance of Mnesarete’s death for his family and society.” Both women are holding objects in their right hands. Unfortunately these objects are not discernible because of the condition of the relief. As far as the little girl is concerned, a flower (Marshall) or a doll (Smith) has been suggested. Daux (1972, 534-535) has rejected Clairmont’s suggestion (1970, 96) that both women are holding birds. The matter is hard to decide, but the answer to this question is significant for the interpretation of the epigram.

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I know that even below the earth, if there is indeed a reward for the worthy ones, the first and foremost honors, nurse, shall be yours, next to Persephone and Pluto.119

Both the extra metrum part and the epigram have been inscribed on a marble stele with a pediment and a relief. The relief represents a seated woman (the nurse Melitta) on the left and a standing little girl (Hippostrate) on the right. Both of them are stretching their right hands. The girl is definitely holding something (flower, doll, or bird according to different suggestions) and the same may be true for the nurse. Part (i) of the inscription has been carved between the pediment and the relief with letters of a bigger size than those used in the epitaph. Part (ii) has been carved on the space provided within the relief above the head of the little girl and part (iii) below the relief, exactly under the depiction of the seated nurse. Part (iv) has been carved below the relief and part (iii) of the inscription. It is plausible that the inscription was composed by Hippostrate who laments the death of her beloved nurse. The nurse is designated in the extra metrum part as the daughter of Apollodorus, who was an ἰσοτελής. The ἰσοτελεῖς occupied a middle position between the μέτοικοι and the citizens in Athenian society.120 The house/chamber of Persephone is not expressed via the typical Περσεφόνης θάλαμος but through παρὰ Φερσεφόνει Πλούτωνί τε, a unique juxtaposition within the entire corpus of Greek metrical inscriptions dating from the 8th to the end of the 4th century BCE. In fact, the very name Πλούτων is never attested in any Greek metrical inscription to the end of the 4th century. On the other hand, Pluto (< πλοῦτος: ‘Wealth’) representing the beneficial side of Hades was worshipped in various _____________ 119

120

Clairmont’s interpretation of the epigram is clearly wrong. He thinks that Hippostrate is the mother of Melitta and that the nurse is not named. Cf. Daux (1972) 532-534; Hansen ad CEG 571. I agree with Hansen, who thinks (following Kaibel 1878, 48, p. 17: ‘Nutricem Hippostrate deflet vulgaribus epigrammatum sententiis verbisque abutens’) that the epigram has clearly been written by Hippostrate herself (Hansen, CEG 571, p. 67: ‘Epigramma manifeste, ut mihi quidem videtur, a puella Hippostrata conscriptum est). Needless to say, Hippostrate is now a fully-grown woman, not a girl, but she (quite understandably) will always remember Melitta as her nurse. Moreover, Clairmont undervalues the literary value of the epigram and even speaks of “a definitely mediocre creation, which is, at best, touching, but completely lacks any poetic feeling” (1970, 96). I strongly disagree with such statements. See also Daux (1972) 534. See Vestergaard (2000) 83 and my comments on CEG 595. On isoteleis, see Thalheim, RE s.v. ‘Ἰσοτελεῖς’.

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places such as Knidos, Eleusis, Ephesos, Mytilene and Sparta.121 According to inscriptional evidence,122 Pluto and his wife Persephone or Kore were worshipped together and “at Eleusis, they were also known as Theos and Thea.” 123 At the advent of the 5th century and under the growing influence of Eleusinian cult, Hades gave way to Pluto, who symbolized agricultural wealth and was not any more the violent abductor of Kore.124 The cornucopia that the positive side of Hades (Pluto) stood for is associated with Demeter and Kore, who were used “as metonyms of corn and flour.” 125 Under these programmatic religious parameters, it becomes evident that the aforementioned hapax should not be examined in isolation from its context, both internal (the language of the inscription) and external (the social and religious framework of the period). As far as the external context is concerned, the fame of the Great Mysteries (Mεγάλα Mυστήρια) at Eleusis should not mislead our research. There were other well-known festivals, much older in fact than the Eleusinian. The Thesmophoria constituted an ancient festival with a remarkable diffusion in the Greek world “from Sicily to Asia Minor and from Cyrene to Pantikapaion.” 126 Moreover, as the following analysis will amply show, the Hippostrate inscription shares common features with the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, which reflects the festival of the Thesmophoria, not that of the Great Mysteries at Eleusis.127 It is true that the Hippostrate inscription has been dated around the middle of the 4th century BCE, when the Great Mysteries at Eleusis had become an inseparable part of Athenian religious life. Conversely, this does not prove that the inscription reflects elements known from Eleusinian cultic practice, it only renders it possible. On the other hand, the nursing element in the inscription (Melitta is a τίτθη), which also forms “the centrepiece of the Hymn”,128 mirrors the Thesmophoria, a festival concerned with fertility and growth, “where the theme of nurturing is fundamental.” 129 One is therefore tempted to examine if and to what extent motifs pertaining to the essential, for the Thesmo_____________ 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129

See Hudson-Williams, OCD s.v. ‘Hades’. IG II2 1672 line 182; IG II2 4751; CEG 571. See Hudson-Williams, OCD s.v. ‘Hades’. See Vermeule (1979) 37. See Burkert (1985) 159, who cites Nilsson (1951-1960) 463, Kérenyi (1962) 124 ff., (1967) 131 ff. See Clinton (1992) 29. Clinton (1992) 29-37 offers the best discussion of this issue. Parker (1991) 9. Clinton (1992) 31.

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phoria, Kourotrophos aspect of Demeter are reflected or alluded to in the Hippostrate inscription, the more so since it constitutes an expression of the personal beliefs of a specific individual. Our starting point is of course the catalectic reference to Persephone and Pluto, which establishes the basis for our examination. Along this interpretive line, the deceased’s name and profession as well as her relation to Hippostrate seem to belong to the same nexus of associations emanating from the myth of Demeter and Kore. In particular, the deceased was a nurse (τίτθη), whose name was Mέλιττα. Both her name and profession show an intricate connection to mythical elements attested in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. Demeter has been disguised into an old nurse (Homeric Hymn to Demeter [2] 101: γρηῒ παλαιγενέϊ ἐναλίγκιος, 142: καλὰ τιθηνοίμην), who will, in the course of the hymn, raise Demophon. References to nurses in connection with Demeter are also attested in other parts of the hymn (103: οἷαί τε τροφοί εἰσι θεμιστοπόλων βασιλήων, 291: χειρότεραι γὰρ δή μιν ἔχον τροφοὶ ἠδὲ τιθῆναι) and nursing in genereal is one of its fundamental elements. “Demophon”, as it has been rightly observed, “does not gain immortality, but he does become the θρεπτός of the divine nurse, and men will receive the favour of the goddesses, if they will only perform the necessary sacrifices and pay them the gifts which they are due (Dem. 273-4; Cf. 367-9).” 130 The symbolic, figurative adoption of mortals by the divine nurses is, therefore, a theme of paramount importance not only for the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, but also for the Thesmophoria at large. The nursing of Demophon by Demeter in the hymn mirrors the future nursing of mankind.131 In the Hippostrate inscription, the deceased’s profession, which also denotes her relation to Hippostrate, author of the inscription, is repeated four times: once in the extra metrum part, and three more times within the actual metrical text. Four attestations within a whole of seven lines is so noteworthy a feature that one is tempted to search for an explanation other than random distribution. Moreover, the nurse’s very name bears a striking similarity to a nexus of associations involving both Demeter and Kore. In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter one of the Oceanids, dancing together with Persephone when Hades abducted her, was called Mελίτη, _____________ 130 131

Richardson (1974) 29. The nursing feature pertaining to the core of the Thesmophoria will be later on ‘transferred’ to the Great Mysteries at Eleusis, when “as creators and sponsors of a new festival, they [Demeter and Kore] will put their age-old nursing powers to new use, in nursing their cult in the time to come – a role which Sophocles picks out for praise in Oedipus at Colonus: οὗ Πότνιαι σεμνὰ τιθηνοῦνται τέλη θνατοῖσιν (OC 1050).” See Clinton (1992) 37.

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who according to Il. 18.42 and Th. 247 was a Nereid. The same name also designated both the Attic deme of Melite and a local heroine who was loved by Heracles when he was exiled in her country. It was there that the great hero was initiated to the Lesser Mysteries.132 In addition, Demeter’s priestesses were called μέλισσαι and the same is the case with the legitimate wives who participated in the Thesmophoria.133 Persephone herself was also called Mελιτώδης.134 The Thesmophoria were celebrated in the beginning of autumn and were dedicated to Demeter. In contrast to the Adonia, a festival dedicated to Aphrodite, in the women-oriented Thesmophoria only legitimate, married wives were allowed to participate. Slaves, metics, foreigners, concubines and courtesans were all excluded. The festival lasted three days during which women abstained from any sexual activity, modeling their behavior on Demeter as depicted in the relevant Homeric Hymn, who constituted the mythical paragon of mother and nurse, and whose old age deprived her of any sexual gifts or erotic connotations. The women who participated in the Thesmophoria were called Mέλισσαι (Bees), since they ritually inherited all the typical characteristics of bees. They were the perfect wives and showed aversion to seduction and dislike of perfumes, the symbolic manifestation of love and sexual attraction. These women-bees of Demeter were also mothers bearing legitimate children.135 In this way they constituted models of σωφροσύνη and ἀρετή guaranteeing the survival of the οἶκος.136 It is their motherhood and their loyalty to their husbands that the Thesmophoria celebrate on a ritual level through the reenactment of the myth of Demeter and Kore, as narrated in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. This piece of evidence shows that Hippostrate, as author of the inscription, has deliberately tried to create a link between the deceased’s name and profession on the one hand and the myth of Demeter and Kore as attested in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter on the other. Accordingly, the phrase παρὰ Φερσεφόνει Πλούτωνί τε κεῖνται is not an isolated expression pertaining to death, but blends in well with an entire nexus of references and associations pointing at the Thesmophoria. _____________ 132 133

134 135 136

See schol. Ar. Ran. 501; Richardson (1974) 288; RE 15.540 ff. See Callim. Hymn. 2.110 ff.; Apollodorus FGrHist 244 F 89; Porph. On the Cave of the Nymphs 18; schol. Pind. Pyth. 4.106a; schol. Theocr. 15.94; Richardson (1974) 288; RE 15.525 ff. For the bee in Greek Mythology, see Cook (1895) 1-24. See Detienne (1972) 154-157; Loraux (2003) 27. Loraux (1981) 109.

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This kind of reasoning is further reinforced by other features, which also belong to the aforementioned context. Along theses lines, the motif of receiving due honors constitutes a striking example. It is repeated three times within the Hippostrate inscription, both in verbal and nominal form. It is first appropriately embedded in a pair of polar opposites, typical for lament poetry, such as life vs death and past vs present: καὶ ζῶσάν σ’ ἐφίλ|ουν, τίτθη, καὶ νῦν σ’ ἔτι τιμῶ οὖσαν καὶ κατὰ γῆς, | καὶ τιμήσω σε ἄχρι ἂν ζῶ. As long as I was alive I loved you, nurse, and now I still honor you, though you are below the earth, and I will honor you as long as I live.

The symmetrical juxtaposition and subsequent opposition of standard antithetical pairs (ζῶσαν – νῦν, σ’ ἐφίλουν – σ’ ἔτι τιμῶ) in the first verse is extended in the second through an effective chiasmus: Past (καὶ ζῶσάν σ’ ἐφίλ|ουν), present (καὶ νῦν σ’ ἔτι τιμῶ), present (οὖσαν καὶ κατὰ γῆς), future (καὶ τιμήσω σε ἄχρι ἂν ζῶ). This carefully structured couplet with its balanced parts and its ring closure (ζῶσαν - ζῶ) underscores the importance of the motif of τιμή, which the nurse will continue to receive even after her death. The word τίτθη is ‘squeezed’ between the two halves of verse 3 (the first verse of this couplet), in an almost iconizing manner: the nurse to whom love and honor was, is and will be offered is located at the ‘center’ of the verse, effectively linking past and present. In this conception, the opposition between past and present, life and death is figuratively annihilated through the motif of honor. The Thesmophorian matrix of the inscription should not only be interpreted along the lines of the special place this cult occupied in Athenian religious life. Melitta’s grave epigram contains so striking Thesmophorian overtones, that one should not exclude another layer of meaning, such as Hippostrate’s participation in the actual festival.137 This being the case, one is tempted to interpret verse 5 of the inscription (οἶδα δὲ σοὶ ὅτι καὶ κατὰ [γ]ῆς, εἴπερ χρηστοῖς γέρας ἐ̣στίν) as a stark aknowledgement (οἶδα) of personal involvement, which deviates from common practice in fourth-century funerary inscriptions. At the same time, the use of οἶδα comes just after the two heavily ‘incantatory’ verses 3-4. Both lines begin and end in rhyme (καὶ ζῶσαν – _____________ 137

Hippostrate may well be a fully-grown woman, who was so close to her nurse that she decided to honor her after death by raising this grave monument and dedicating to her an epitaph.

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οὖσαν καὶ / τιμῶ - ζῶ), both of them are clearly divided in two distinct semantic units articulated by the particle καί, and both of them display a chiastic structure138 (ABAB: καὶ ζῶσάν σ’ ἐφίλ|ουν - καὶ νῦν σ’ ἔτι τιμῶ - οὖσαν καὶ κατὰ γῆς - καὶ τιμήσω σε ἄχρι ἂν ζῶ).139 According to the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, Demeter is the nurse of Demophon and, by projection, the paragonal nurse of mankind. Her use of what Richardson has coined as ‘incantatory’ language is a display of her effort to protect the young Demophon. Likewise, Hippostrate also employs ‘incantatory’ language in order to assure honors for her nurse. This is a reciprocal act probably in response to the ‘protection’ the nurse had offered to Hippostrate in the first place. The use of the formula εἴπερ χρηστοῖς γέρας ἐ̣στίν, which is typical of prayer language, highlights the fact that reciprocity and remembrance are complementary aspects of a request from the gods.140 In the Hippostrate inscription, a da-quia-dedi type of prayer addressed to Persephone and Pluto has been turned into a confirmation (οἶδα) concerning the τιμή the deceased will receive in the Underworld. In this respect, the language of Hippostrate, who in all probability participated in the Thesmophoria, resembles the language of a magician using incantations: “both claim a special relationship with their respective gods, based on revealed knowledge-this can explain why parts of mystery rituals were taken over into the prayers of the magical papyri.” 141 Τιμή is climactically represented in the last verse of this grave epigram. Up to now, the honor the nurse received was expressed in terms of surpassing any time frame and in reference to the world of the living, the world of Hippostrate. This time, however, the honors the nurse will receive refer to the world of the dead.142 The expression “πρώτει σοι τι̣[μα]ί ... κεῖνται” emphatically143 underscores the theme _____________ 138

139

140 141

142 143

The term ‘chiastic structure’ refers to the visual effect produced by looking at the inscription. I have borrowed the term ‘incantatory’ from Richardson (1974, 229 and 239), who traces two such examples in verses 228-229 and 238 of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. The verb οἶδα is used in both 228 and 229 at verse-initial position, just as in the Hippostrate inscription. Pulleyn (1997) 16-38. Graf (1991) 192. The repetitious style of the epigram has been misinterpreted by Clairmont (1970) 96. The epigram is not deprived of literary qualities, one of which is the change from indirect (v. 1) to direct speech. See Gutscher (1889) 34. I owe this reference to Pircher (1979) 43, who speaks of a “herzlicher Ton rührender Zuneigung.” For such matters, see the third chapter of this study. See Lattimore (1942) 58. For the theme of πρῶτος in inscriptions, see Pircher (1979) 43 n. 4.

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of honor, bringing the commemoration of the nurse to a climax as she will receive even greater honors among the dead. In the light of the importance attached to the theme of τιμή in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, the link between the Hippostrate inscription and the religious language underlying the hymn and the myth of Demeter and Kore is strengthened even more. The following passages from the hymn are relevant to Demeter: (a) as honor-granting and honor-depriving goddess; (b) as receiving honors and privileges from the gods: 260-261: ἀθάνατόν κέν τοι καὶ ἀγήραον ἤματα πάντα / παῖδα φίλον ποίησα καὶ ἄφθιτον ὤπασα τιμήν 263: τιμὴ δ’ ἄφθιτος αἰὲν ἐπέσσεται, ... 268: εἰμὶ δὲ Δημήτηρ τιμάοχος, … 311-312: ... γεράων τ’ ἐρικυδέα τιμήν / καὶ θυσιῶν ἤμερσεν Ὀλύμπια δώματ’ ἔχοντας 328: τιμὰς τάς κε βόλοιτο μετ’ ἀθανάτοισιν ἑλέσθαι· 353-354: ... καταφθινύθουσα δὲ τιμὰς / ἀθανάτων ... 366: τιμὰς δὲ σχήσῃσθα μετ’ ἀθανάτοισι μεγίστας, 443-444: ... ὑπέδεκτο δὲ τιμάς / δωσέμεν, ἅς κεν ἕλοιτο μετ’ ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσιν· 461-462: ... ὑπέδεκτο δὲ τιμάς / [δωσέμεν, ἅς κ’ ἐθέλῃσθα] μετ’ ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσιν·

Hippostrate’s unfailing love and honor for her nurse resembles the “goddesses’ relation to initiates, described in the Hymn [to Demeter] as one of durable love of one friend or relative (philos) for another (487, prophroneôs philôntai).” 144 Among the numerous points of contact the Hippostrate inscription shares with the religious diction145 employed in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter is the typical lament expression καὶ νῦν π[ο]θ̣εῖ σε, whose literary prehistory harks back even to the Homeric Iliad (19.320321).146 This motif being common in Greek lament literature echoes a recurrent theme of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, namely the longing of Demeter for her daughter Persephone: 200-201: ἀλλ’ ἀγέλαστος ἄπαστος ἐδητύος ἠδὲ ποτῆτος / ἧστο, πόθῳ μινύθουσα βαθυζώνοιο θυγατρός 304: μίμνε πόθῳ μινύθουσα βαθυζώνοιο θυγατρός

_____________ 144 145

146

Foley (1994) 115. I am not arguing that the author of the Hippostrate inscription borrowed directly from the Homeric Hymn to Demeter but that both texts share a common stock of religious language pertaining to the Thesmophoria. Il. 19.320-321: ἄκμηνον πόσιος καὶ ἐδητύος, ἔνδον ἐόντων, / σῇ ποθῇ.

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Chapter 2 344: πόλλ’ ἀεκαζομένῃ μητρὸς πόθῳ ...

Read against the background of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter and the Thesmophoria at large, this epigram displays in statu nascendi a technique basically known from the literary Hellenistic epigram. Taking material used more grandly in an older text and reapplying it to lesser figures (such as Hippostrate’s nurse) constitutes an implicit indication of subliterariness. The literary backdrop and cultural setting of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter reflected in the stockpile of motifs and diction used in the Hippostrate inscription enlarge the scope of the epitaph and, by giving access to a wider range of beliefs, heavily condition its reception. The Hippostrate inscription is a remarkable example of the fusion of beliefs pertaining to Athenian religious practice (Thesmophoria), on the one hand, with traditional lament motifs, on the other. Despite its serious metrical problems (verse 2 does not scan, verses 5 and 6 are hypermetrical, since they have 7 and 8 dactylic feet respectively),147 the inscription is significant for the development of the epigrammatic genre, since it exploits well-known religious imagery (the house of Persephone and Pluto) to its limits. By making full use of motifs pertaining to the Thesmophoria and its ‘poetic representative’ (the Homeric Hymn to Demeter), the Hippostrate inscription achieves a bold but effective blending of the extra metrum ‘biographical’ references to the deceased with the core of the epigram. In CEG 575, the epitaph for Herakleia begins with a gnomic statement expressed by an εἰ-clause and ends by the imagery of Persephone’s chambers: ca. 6

[εἰ θέμις ἦν] θ̣νητὴν ἐναρίθμι|ο[ν Ó Ô˘Ô ο] υσαν ἀθανάταις | νο[μίσαι, σοὶ] τὸ γέρας τόδ’ ἂν | ἦν, Ἡράκλ[ει]α· σὺ γὰρ προλι|ποῦσ’ ἥβη̣ν [π]ολυανθῆ ὤιχ|ου ἀποφθιμ[έ]ν̣η μητρὸς π|ρολιποῦσα μέ[λ]αθρον Σίμ|ου ἀνοικτίστω[ς] Φερσεφό|νης θαλάμου<ς>.

4

[If it was right] to list a mortal woman [who preserved her purity?], among immortals, this honor would have been yours, Herakleia; for after quitting the full bloom of your youth, and leaving the home of your mother Simo, you departed without being pitied for the chambers of Persephone.

_____________ 147

Clairmont (1970) 96 refers to Allen (1888) 44, who explained the iambic hypercatalectic verse 2 of the inscription as the result of the composer’s will to include the name of Hippostrate in the epitaph. Pircher (1979) 43 scans this verse either as a catalectic iambic dipody or an alcaic meter.

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The Herakleia inscription begins with a two-verse gnomic statement verbalized by a contrary-to-fact conditional clause ([εἰ θέμις ἦν] θ̣νητὴν ἐναρίθμι|ο[ν Ó Ô˘Ô ο]υσαν / ἀθανάταις | νο[μίσαι, σοὶ] τὸ γέρας τόδ’ ἂν ἦν). Before embarking on a discussion of the function of these verses within the framework of the entire epitaph, let us briefly consider the readings proposed for the six (approximately) missing letters of verse 1. Kaibel148 and Pfohl149 have suggested the reading ἁγνεύο]υσαν. Conversely, Hansen150 has not endorsed their reading because (a) he is unable to come up with any parallel, and (b) the verb ἁγνεύω means ‘I retain for a given period of time my chastity and continence’, i.e. ‘I abstain from sex’, not ‘I keep my virginity’.151 Another reading proposed by J. Egbert152 is ὦκα θανο]ῦσαν. Hansen’s first argument is scientifically sound. Given the strong formularity of the language of epitaphs, lack of parallels is a serious reason for being skeptical about Kaibel’s suggestion (accepted by Pfohl). As far as the second argument is concerned, the question that should be asked is, why are we not allowed to accept the meaning of ἁγνεύο]υσαν (I remain pure, i.e. I abstain from sex for a given period of time). Hansen himself mentions the festival of the Thesmophoria, where married women abstained from sexual activity for a period of three days. If the reading ἁγνεύο]υσαν is correct, then how can it be reconciled with _____________ 148 149 150 151

152

In Conze 1.487, p. 112-113. See also Kaibel (1879) 182. GVI 1697. CEG 575. See CEG 575: “1, fin. ἁγνεύο]υσαν Kaibel apud Conze et vulgo, quod in textu non exhibere haesitanter decrevi, quia (1) nihil omnino habeo quod conferam et (2) ἁγνεύω = ‘pura sum’ de femina dictum idem atque ‘castitatem et continentiam temporariam custodio’ (e.g. Thesmophoriis celebrandis), non ‘virginitatem retineo’ esse videtur.” ‘Privatim’, according to Hansen (CEG 575). The reading ὦκα θανο]ῦσαν is metrically legitimate and works well with σὺ γὰρ προλιποῦσ’ ἥβη̣ν [π]ολυανθῆ. The problem it does not solve is the repetition of the προλιποῦσα construction. In fact the phrase μητρὸς προλιποῦσα μέλαθρον fails to explain the expression ὦκα θανοῦσαν. The important question concerns, therefore, the interpretation not only of σὺ γὰρ προλιποῦσ’ ἥβη̣ν [π]ολυανθῆ but also of μητρὸς προλιποῦσα μέλαθρον. The reading ὦκα θανο]ῦσαν simply cannot cater for both of them. Moreover, there are no parallels. In metrical inscriptions (8th-4th cent. BCE) the root ὠκ- is attested twice, once modifying horses (CEG 302: [h]ίποισι νικέ[σας ἔ]θεκέ μ̣᾽ [ὀκέαις]), and the second time a race (CEG 790: ὠκέος ἐγ δολί̣[χου]). In both cases the context is agonistic, not funerary. The adjective ὠκύμορος mentioned by Hansen (CEG 575) is a Homeric epithet conspicuously but significantly absent from metrical inscriptions (despite the recurring theme of mors immatura). See the synonyms of ἄωρος in Griessmair (1966) 14-15.

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the expression προλιποῦσ’ ἥβη̣ν [π]ολυανθῆ used for Herakleia? In other words, how is it possible to make the parthenos Herakleia compatible with a reference to the Thesmophoria (ἁγνεύο]υσαν), where only citizen wives were allowed to participate? This interpretation seems possible, because of the opposition between the first two verses of the epitaph and the three following ones. What the epitaph states is a conditioned probability.153 In cases like this, “it is not a matter of constricting the field of decision, but of clarifying the framework within which it operates.” 154 The use of a contrary-to-fact conditional shows that this is an unreal situation, and what is unreal about it is first and foremost the apodosis. What follows explains (γάρ) why Herakleia, the deceased, was not able to acquire the aforementioned γέρας. Therefore, if she had not died, if she had not left ‘blooming youth’ (ἥβη̣ν [π]ολυανθῆ), then she would have been able to participate in the Thesmophoria (ἁγνεύο]υσαν) as the wife of an Athenian citizen and to leave the paternal house in order to move to another θάλαμος which was not that of Persephone but her bridal one. On the other hand, it seems unlikely that the Thesmophoria might have provided the dead with immortality. Herakleia must have been praised for a chastity of considerably longer duration, namely the choice of a chaste life. By abstaining from sexual activity during her entire life she would even be considered one of the immortal goddesses. The matter is virtually impossible to decide both because the reading ἁγνεύο]υσαν is not certain and also because we cannot possibly know whether the Thesmophoria may have been used in our inscription symbolically, i.e. epitomizing a woman’s whole life. Herakleia’s premature death and her leaving her mother’s house deprived her of being considered one of the immortal goddesses. The special honor of living a chaste life is considered so important that the author of the inscription has availed himself of an unreal conditional clause in order to highlight its special weight. In fact, if the restored reading [εἰ θέμις ἦν] is correct, then it suits well the aforementioned interpretation. The Herakleia inscription contains two elegiac couplets interrupted by a single hexameter. Departure from the norm is attested in a number of cases in metrical inscriptions. Allen lists all relevant examples known to him at the time,155 which show that the question of quality is independent from that of metrical incongruence (the ‘norm’ _____________ 153 154 155

See Peradotto (1990) 67. Peradotto (1990) 67. Allen (1888) 42-45.

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would be of course an impeccable alternation of hexameters and pentameters so as to form perfect elegiac couplets). Speculating about deviation from norms is highly risky, the more so since this may be due to such a variety of factors that the whole issue amounts to mere guesswork. The double repetition of the standard expression προλιποῦσα + accusative in verses 3-4 is noteworthy, since the phrase προλιποῦσα μ[έ]λαθρον deviates from common practice, namely (προ)λιπ(ών)οῦσα + person or feeling: e.g. [ἣ] δ’ ἔθανεν προλιπο̃σα πόσιν καὶ μητ[έρα κεδνὴν] | [κ]αὶ κλέος ἀθάνατον σωφροσύνης [μεγάλης].156 Both προλιποῦσα μ[έ]λαθρον and προλιποῦσα ἥβη̣ν have the meaning of ‘quitting’, which is a significantly more rare use of this construction, especially in a funerary context.157 The following tables show the syntax of προ(λ)είπω in the entire corpus of grave epigrams from the 8th to the 4th centuries BCE:158 Verb Ac cu sati ve ἔλιπες γόον ἔλιπεν φάος λιποῦσα πόθον λιπόντα πένθος λιπόντε πένθος προλιπών πατρίδα γéν προλιπών ἠέλιον προλιποῦσα ἥβης ἄνθος προλιποῦσα ἥβης ἄνθος Verb Ac cu sati ve λιπεῖν εὔκλειαν λείπεις μνημεῖον [λ]είπεις πόθον λείπεις εὐλογίας πηγήν λείπ̣ε̣` [ις] [πένθο]ς λείπεις γόον καὶ κήδεα λείπουσι (στεναχαί) αὐτήν (μητέρα) λειπούσας δεκάδας λείπομα[ι] -

Plac e Attica unknown origin Attica Attica Attica Attica Egypt Sinope Sinope Plac e Attica Attica Attica Attica Rhodes Cos Attica Acarnania Attica

Centur y 5th 5th 5th ? 5th 5th 5th 5th 5th 5th Centur y 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th

4th 4th

CEG I 95 178 104 75 84 80 171 174.4 174.8 CEG II 574 495 543.3 548.6 689 704 587 660 553.4

_____________ 156 157

158

For λιποῦσα/λιπο̃σ α, see CEG 515, 529, 543.4 and 7, 576-577, 646. For προλιποῦσα/προλιπο̃σ α, see CEG 486, 526.2 and 7, 548.2, 575.3 and 4. The syntax of λείπω + non-abstract object is hereby considered as secondary, since it is rarely attested within the corpus of classical epigrams. I have used the indexes compiled by Hansen in the two volumes of CEG.

112 [λε]ί̣πεται [λει]πομένην [λ]ειπομε[ν -] λείψει (μνήμη) ἔλιπο<ον>ν ἔλιπον ἔλιπον ἔλιπον ἔλιπον ἔλιπον λίπον <ἔ>λιπες ἔλιπες ἔλιπες ἔλιπες προλιποῦσα ἔλιπες ἔλιπες ἔλιπες [λίπες - - ] ἔλιπεν

ἔλιπεν ἔλιπ’ ἔ̣[λι]π̣[ε]ν ἔ[λ]ιπεν ἔλιπον, ἀποπρολιπών λιπεῖν λιπών λιπών λιπών λιπών λιπών (προ)λιπών λιπο̃σα λιπο̃σα λιποῦσα

Chapter 2 μνημεῖον εὔκλειαν λύπας Φοινίκην φῶς αὐγάς τρόπαια πένθος Eὔκλειαν σῶμα μνήμην μνήμην ἀρετήν πέν̣θ̣ος πόσιν, ἀδελφός, πένθος, τέκνον, εὔκλειαν ἀρετήν, σωφροσύνην φῶς εὔκλειαν πνεῦμ’ γενεήν, θυμόν

Arcadia Attica Attica Euboea Attica Attica Attica Attica Attica Macedonia Attica Attica Attica Attica Attica Attica Attica Attica Illyria Attica Attica

4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th

659 490 505 627 493 498 531 585 596.6 722 590 496 511 518 522 549 551 603 662.4 604 513

Attica

4th

542

Attica Thessaly Camarina Attica

4th 4th 4th 4th

566 642 662a 597

Εὔκλειαν μνημεῖα πένθος πένθεα πατρίδα παῖδα (Xάρμον) ἔπαινον λύπην πένθος φάος

Attica Attica Attica Attica Attica Illyria Cos Attica Attica Attica

4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th

570 474 = 99b 477 485 492 662.3 708 515 529 543.4

113

Poetic Imagery λιποῦσα λιποῦσα λιποῦσα λιποῦσα λιπόντα λιποῦσαι λέλοιπας λέλοιπας πρ[ολιπών] προλιπών πρ̣ο̣[λιπ]ών προλιπών προλιπο̃σα προλιποῦσα προλιποῦσα προλιποῦσα προλιποῦσ’ προλιποῦσα προλιπο̣[Ô˘Ô] προλ[ιπ ØØ]

πένθος ὀρφανὸν παῖδα πόθον, μνήμην πνεῦμα πόθον πένθ[ο]ς, μνή[μην?] πένθος ἥβην ἡλικία̣[ν] ἁλικί̣α̣[ν  Ó] πόσιν, μητέρα, κλέος ἠιθέους, κόρας κόρας [σῶμα] ἥβην μέλαθρον γῆν πατρίδα -

Attica Attica Attica Thessaly Miletus Cyprus Attica

4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th

543.7 576 577 646 687 714 591.7

Attica Attica Attica Rhodes Macedonia Attica

4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th

593.8 480 624 691 723.2 486

Attica Attica Attica Attica Attica Cnidos Cnidos

4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th 4th

526.2 526.7 548.2 575.3 575.4 700 702

These two tables show that the expression προλιποῦσα + accusative is basically used in the sense of ‘leaving something or somebody behind’ or ‘leaving as a legacy’. In this light, the twice repeated construction προλιποῦσα + accusative constitutes a noteworthy deviation from the norm. It is, therefore, plausible that its attestation within two continuous verses of the very same epitaph may indicate a special ‘reading’ of the epigram. The use of the construction προλιποῦσ(α) + ἥβην/μέλαθρον instead of προλιποῦσα + person/feeling results in a significant change of tone. There is no mention of suffering, of pain and loss that the deceased’s relatives experience after the death of a beloved person. In fact, the gnomic tone of the first two verses, with its contrary-to-fact conditional clause, gives its place to a rather self-oriented focalization of the dead person. Through the three verbs of motion (προλιποῦσα, ᾤχου, προλιποῦσα) expressing the radical change in Herakleia’s condition, the epitaph suggests an interesting parallelism between the ἥβη̣ν πολυανθῆ and the μητρὸς μέλαθρον on the one hand, and the Περσεφόνης θαλάμους, on the other. The analogy between the myth

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of Demeter and Kore becomes particularly relevant. Persephone ‘quit’ youth (metaphorically symbolized by her abduction while plucking flowers)159 and her mother’s (Demeter’s) house in myth, when she was abducted by Hades. Likewise, Herakleia leaves youth and home and goes to her new, pitiless abode in the Underworld, which is now called ‘the chambers of Persephone’. The irregularity of two subsequent hexameters in the metrical context of elegiac couplets can be now textually interpreted. The fact that verses 4-5 could be combined (ᾤχου ἀποφθιμένη Φερσεφόνης θαλάμους) in a pentameter either leaving line 3 as it stands or changing it into Ἡράκλεια· σὺ γὰρ μητρὸς προλιποῦσα μέλαθρον shows that the omission of a pentameter verse (after line 3) has culminated in a sophisticated blending. The composer of the inscription wanted to insert Simo’s name in the epigram and conclude with the phrase Φερσεφόνης θαλάμους, which is always a terminal closure for the pentameter’s second part. This decision resulted in the reiteration of the expression προλιποῦσα + accusative (in order to accommodate the deceased’s name Herakleia in the previous hexameter), and above all in a very odd syntax (the ordo verborum would misleadingly suggest a connection between the genitive Σίμου and the accusative θαλάμους). Such considerations reveal a gifted author, who ‘sacrificed’ formal metrical patterns by exploiting syntactical norm-deviation and blending it with well-known religious imagery. The emphasis on Herakleia as expressed by the syntax of προλιποῦσα was effectively counterbalanced by the insertion of her mother’s (unusual) name at the last line of the inscription. As in mythical narrative, so in epigrammatic constraints mother and daughter are, somehow, together again. In CEG 592 = ΣΕΜΑ 411, the expression Persephone’s chamber is hidden under the nickname of the deceased alluding to a sophisticated imagery, which the readers of the epitaph are invited to reactivate in their minds: Kερκώπη μὲν ἔγωγ’ ἐκαλούμην, | εἰμὶ δὲ πατρὸς Σ[ω]κράτου Ἡδύτιον | Mαραθωνίου, εὐθ[α]νάτως δὲ στείχω | ζηλωτὴ Φερσεφόνης θάλαμον, | γήραι ἀριθμ[ή]σασ’ ἐννέα ἐτῶν | δεκά<δ>ας. εὐσεβίαι θυγατρὸς δὲ | ἐτάφην ὥσπερ με προσήκει.

4

I was called Kerkope. I am the daughter of

_____________ 159

See Homeric Hymn to Demeter (2) 6: ἄνθεά τ’ αἰνυμένην ῥόδα καὶ κρόκον ἠδ’ ἴα καλά. Abduction of unmarried maidens often occurs in an analogous context and stands for a sort of figurative ‘death’.

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Socrates from Marathon, my true name is Hedytion, and after dying an easy death, I am going envied to Persephone’s chamber, since I haved reckoned in my old age nine bodies of ten years. It is due to my daughter’s piety that I was buried just as it is befitting to me.

The epitaph was inscribed on a fourth-century marble lekythos. It displays a tripartite structure (a: Kερκώπη-Mαραθωνίου, (b) εὐθ[α]νάτως δὲ ... δεκάδας, (c) εὐσεβίᾳ ... προσήκει). In the first part (a), the deceased discloses her identity, both through her nickname and through her father’s name and demotic, which is ‘interrupted’ by her own real name (Hedytion). In the second part (b), the focus is on the theme of her death that is expressed through the traditional metaphor of ‘Persephone’s chamber(s)’ extended by the additional information of Kerkope’s age. The third part (c) contains a brief reference to Kerkope’s daughter, who was responsible for her mother’s burial. This epitaph is the only one among the corpus of fourth-century Attic grave epigrams where the formula ‘Persephone’s chamber(s)’ is not placed at the last verse of the epitaph, but at its very center. The expression Φερσεφόνης θάλαμον (-ος, -ους) regularly fills the second part of a pentameter verse, as its metrical structure indicates (Ó  | Ó  | Ó). Its use, therefore, in elegiac couplets is easily understood. In epitaphs with combinations of hexameters and pentameters (as is the case with CEG 592),160 metrical reasons cannot cater for any explanation concerning the non-terminal placement of the formula Φερσεφόνης θάλαμον, since metrical balance (as created by the alternation of elegiac couplets) has been overturned. Semantically, the epitaph could very well have ended in verse 3, i.e. with the formula Φερσεφόνης θάλαμον. Therefore, the reason(s) for the expansion of this grave-epigram must be sought elsewhere. We shall begin our investigation with the function of the word Kερκώπη. The nickname Kερκώπη is of crucial importance for ‘deciphering’ the inscription. Its placement in verse-initial position at the very beginning of the epitaph strikes a powerful tone, as it is not her real name Ἡδύτιον, but the nickname of the deceased that will be the interpretive key of the grave-epigram. The nickname Kερκώπη denotes a small cicada (τέττιξ).161 The garrulity of the cicada was well known _____________ 160 161

See Allen (1888) 41-45. The lemma κερκώπη in Hesychius’ Lexicon (p. 465 [Latte]) reads as follows: μικρὸν τεττίγιον τὸ καλαμαῖον λεγόμενον. εἶναι γὰρ τρία γένη τεττίγων φασί. οἱ δὲ τέττιξ θήλεια μὴ φωνοῦσα. See also Ael. NA 10.44. Cf. Alexis’ Thrason (fr. 96.1-2 K.-A.), who refers to the κερκώπη as “a paradigm of loquacious

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in antiquity. Athenaeus informs us that cicadas were part of ancient diet and that people ate them for medicinal purposes (4.133b: ἤσθιον δὲ καὶ τέττιγας καὶ κερκώπας ἀναστομώσεως χάριν) and gives parallels from Aristophanes’ Anagyros (fr. 53 K.-A.: πρὸς θεῶν· ἔραμαι τέττιγα φαγεῖν / καὶ κερκώπην θηρευσαμένη / καλάμῳ λευκῷ), from Alexis’ Thrason (fr. 96.1-4 K.-A.: σοῦ δ’ ἐγὼ λαλιστέραν / οὐπώποτ’ εἶδον οὔτε κερκώπην, γύναι, / οὐ κίτταν, οὐκ ἀηδόν’, <οὐ χελιδόνα,> / οὐ τρυγόν’, οὐ τέττιγα), from Epilycus’ Koraliskos (fr. 5 K.-A.: [Phot. p. 592, 11] τιτιγόνιον· ὅμοιον τέττιγι. Ἐπίλυκος Kωραλίσκῳ), and from Speusippus’ Similia (fr. 9 Lang = fr. 127 Parente): ἔστιν δ’ ἡ κερκώπη ζῷον ὅμοιον τέττιγι καὶ τιτιγονίῳ, ὡς Σπεύσιππος παρίστησι ἐν δ<ευτέρῳ> Ὁμοίων).162 The cicada as a symbol of song is, of course, a locus communis in Greek literature. The relevant examples are numerous, and even a cursory reading of the lemma s.v. τέττιξ in the RE and of Smerdel’s informative study shows that the cicada inspired Greek imagination in multiple and remarkable ways. As we shall see, the epitaph under examination exploited several of the traditional tettigological connotations.163 The happy death (εὐθανάτως) of the ‘little-cicada’ (Kerkope) must be ‘read’ as an allusion to the careless living of the τέττιξ, who spends all its time singing,164 free of even the most elementary alimentary needs. The locus classicus for the cicada’s ‘easy’ and ‘light’ life is Plato’s Phdr. 259a-d, from which b-c is of particular importance to our investigation: ΣΩ. Oὐ μὴν δὲ πρέπει γε φιλόμουσον ἄνδρα τῶν τοιούτων ἀνήκοον εἶναι. λέγεται δ’ ὥς ποτ’ ἦσαν οὗτοι ἄνθρωποι τῶν πρὶν Mούσας γεγονέναι, γενομένων δὲ Mουσῶν καὶ φανείσης ᾠδῆς οὕτως ἄρα τινὲς τῶν τότε ἐξεπλάγησαν ὑφ’ ἡδονῆς, ὥστε ᾄδοντες ἠμέλησαν σίτων τε καὶ ποτῶν, καὶ ἔλαθον τελευτήσαντες αὑτούς· ἐξ ὧν τε τεττίγων γένος μετ’ ἐκεῖνο φύεται, γέρας τοῦτο παρὰ Mουσῶν λαβόν, μηδὲν τροφῆς δεῖσθαι γενόμενον, ἀλλ’ ἄσιτόν τε καὶ ἄποτον εὐθὺς ᾄδειν, ἕως ἂν τελευτήσῃ, καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα ἐλθὸν παρὰ Mούσας ἀπαγγέλλειν τίς τίνα αὐτῶν τιμᾷ τῶν ἐνθάδε. ...

_____________ 162 163

164

chattering” (Davies and Kathirithamby 1986, 131). For nicknames originating from animals, see Hug, RE s.v. ‘Spitznamen’. See also Ael. NA 1.20: οἱ δὲ τέττιγες κατὰ τὴν ἰξύν εἰσι λαλίστατοι. The epitaph’s sophisticated use of features pertaining to the way Greeks thought of the cicada is based on the premise that future readers would observe the preeminent position of the nickname Kερκώπη in verse-initial position in the very first line of the epitaph. See CEG 532, which is a good example of an explicit explanation of a nickname used for the deceased. See Davies and Kathirithamby (1986) 116-122.

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But it is surely not fitting for a man who loves music not to have heard of such things. It is said that once upon a time these were human beings, before the Muses came to be; and then, when the Muses came to be and song was revealed, certain of the men of that time were so astounded by pleasure that, in singing, they lost all care for food and drink, and brought their own lives to an end without noticing it. After that, the race of the cicadas grew from them, having gotten this gift of honor from the Muses, to need no nourishment when born but straightaway, without food and without drink, to sing, until they end their lives, and after that to go by the Muses and report who of those here honors which one of them.165

After living a life with no need of food (μηδὲν τροφῆς δεῖσθαι γενόμενον, ἀλλ’ ἄσιτόν τε καὶ ἄποτον εὐθὺς ᾄδειν, ἕως ἂν τελευτήσῃ), the cicadas are imagined as reporting to the Muses the names of those who honor each one of them so that the τέττιγες mediate between the human world and the Muses. The phrase τίς τίνα αὐτῶν τιμᾷ τῶν ἐνθάδε imitates, through the alliteration of t sounds and ti syllables, the voice of the cicadas, whose name has, after all, been based on onomatopoeia.166 This last observation underlines the belief in the incessant activity of the cicada, an activity that will be continued in the Underworld. The Platonic idea that the cicada is able to survive without food and drink 167 is based on the fact that the Greeks thought this insect fed itself on dew.168 So strong was this belief that they developed a whole set of ideas concerning the ‘easy’ life of the cicada. Likewise, the deceased (Kερκώπη), whose nickname designated a tiny subspecies of the female cicada, is now approaching Persephone’s chamber envied (ζηλωτή), as she has enjoyed a long life, a sweet death, and will continue to enjoy a blessed condition in the world below. Longevity represents another hitherto unexplored feature of the epitaph pertaining to its tettigological framework and deserving lingering attention (γήραι ἀριθμ[ή]σασ’ ἐννέα ἐτῶν δεκά<δ>ας). From a purely syntactical point of view the dative γήραι seems peculiar, since _____________ 165 166 167

168

Translation by Nichols (1998). See Davies and Kathirithamby (1986) 113. See Callimachus Aet. 1.29-35: τῷ πιθόμη]ν· ἐνὶ τοῖς γὰρ ἀείδομεν οἳ λιγὺν ἦχον / τέττιγος, θ]όρυβον δ᾽ οὐκ ἐφίλησαν ὄνων. / θηρὶ μὲν ο˼ὐατόεντι πανείκελον ὀγκήσαιτο / ἄλλος, ἐγ]ὼ δ᾽ εἴην οὑλ̣[α]χύς, ὁ πτερόεις, / ἆ πάντ˼ως, ἵνα γῆρας ἵνα δρόσον ἣν μὲν ἀείδω / πρώκιο˼ν ἐκ δίης ἠέρος εἶδαρ ἔδων, / αὖθι τ˼ὸ̣ δ̣᾽ ˻ἐκ˼δύοιμ˻ι˼, … See also Philo Alex. de vita contemplativa 35 (p. 55): ἐθισθέντες ὥσπερ φασὶ τὸ τεττίγων γένος ἀέρι τρέφεσθαι ... See Davies and Kathirithamby (1986) 123-124. For examples where dew and air are combined as cicada nourishment, see Borthwick (1966) 107.

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the verb ἀριθμέω is never accompanied by a non-prepositional dative when it has an accusative object (δεκά<δ>ας). Such syntactical deviations from common practice are to be expected in inscriptions but the whole matter seems more intriguing, if we keep in mind that the word γῆρας designates, apart from old age, the skin certain insects (and the cicada is definitely one of them) slough off.169 Greeks interpreted the casting of a serpent’s or insect’s skin as a symbolic passage to another life, a sign of immortality. The author of Anacreonteum 34 presents the cicada as not worn out by old age (15): Μακαρίζομέν σε, τέττιξ, ὅτε δενδρέων ἐπ’ ἄκρων ὀλίγην δρόσον πεπωκώς βασιλεὺς ὅπως ἀείδεις … φιλέουσι μέν σε Mοῦσαι, φιλέει δὲ Φοῖβος αὐτός, λιγυρὴν δ’ ἔδωκε οἴμην· τὸ δὲ γῆρας οὔ σε τείρει σοφὲ γηγενὴς φιλυμνέ· ἀπαθὴς ἀνεμόσαρκε, σχεδὸν εἶ θεοῖς ὅμοιος. We count you blessed, cicada, when on the tree-tops, having drunk a little dew, you sing like a king … The Muses love you and Phoebus himself loves you and has given you a clear song. Age does not distress you, wise one, earth-born, song-lover! You who do not suffer, you whose flesh is bloodless, you are almost like the gods.170

4 12 15

4 12 15

According to Pfeiffer, this poem also underscores the fact that the cicada climbs on tree trunks and, after having drunk only a limited por_____________ 169

170

See Davies and Kathirithamby (1986) 124 and LSJ s.v. γῆρας. Γῆρας ἐκδύνειν is the standard expression for the process of skin casting some serpents undergo. See Arist. HA 549b26; Nic. Th. 31; Antig. Mir. 20; Antyll. ap. Orib. 10.35.4. On crabs casting off their skin, see Arist. HA 600b20, Theophr. fr. 177. Translation by Campbell (1988).

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tion of dew, is able to sing like a king.171 He has rightly argued that the word γῆρας is used both for old age and “for the skin or exuvia which insects such as the cicada slough off.” 172 Callimachus in Aetia (fr. 1.2935) wishes that he could, cicada-like, shed off old age and live on dew drops. He even uses the word ἐκδύοιμι, which is the terminus technicus for the shedding of the skin. Ekdysis designates the final molting these insects undergo when, after having emerged from the ground and crawled away in search of trees or at least some sort of objects they can cling to, they “execute a series of abdominal contractions accompanied by twitchings and palpitations and by the secretion of a molding fluid that flows under the hard exo-skeleton.” 173 Like the cicada, Kερκώπη died an easy death after living for a long time. Her long life span (ninety years)174 implicitly recalls traditional tettigological longevity and builds on the double meaning of γῆρας in order to allude to the idea of immortality, with which the cicada is traditionally linked. The phrase ὥσπερ με προσήκει175 (‘just as it is befitting to me’) blurs the boundaries between the literal176 and the figurative, since it _____________ 171

172 173

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Pfeiffer (1928) 324. The author also argues that the ability of the cicada to sing incessantly, even in old age, may be implicit in Il. 3.150-152 (γήραϊ δὴ πολέμοιο πεπαυμένοι, ἀλλ’ ἀγορηταί / ἐσθλοί, τεττίγεσσιν ἐοικότες, οἵ τε καθ’ ὕλην / δενδρέῳ ἐφεζόμενοι ὄπα λειριόεσσαν ἱεῖσιν), where the old men in Troy are depicted as cicadas whose old age does not allow them to fight but has not at all deprived them from their eloquence. See Pfeiffer (1928) 324-325. See also Richardson (1933) 69. See Egan (1994) 5. For the shedding off of cicada’s skin, see: (a) Arist. HA 601a1-10 (Balme): τὸν αὐτὸν δὲ τρόπον καὶ τῶν ἐντόμων ἐκδύνειν τὸ γῆρας ὅσα ἐκδύνει, οἷον σίλφη καὶ ἀσπὶς καὶ τὰ κολεόπτερα οἷον κάνθαρος. πάντα δὲ μετὰ τὴν γένεσιν ἐκδύεται· ὥσπερ γὰρ τοῖς ζωοτοκουμένοις τὸ χόριον καὶ τοῖς σκωληκοτοκουμένοις περιρρήγνυται τὸ κέλυφος, ὁμοίως καὶ μελίτταις καὶ ἀκρίσιν. οἱ δὲ τέττιγες ὅταν ἐξέλθωσι καθιζάνουσιν ἐπί τε τὰς ἐλαίας καὶ καλάμους. περιρραγέντος δὲ τοῦ κελύφους ἐξέρχονται ἐγκαταλιπόντες ὑγρότητα μικράν, καὶ μετ’ οὐ πολὺν χρόνον ἀναπέτονται καὶ ᾄδουσιν; (b) Lucr. De rerum natura 4.58: teretes ponunt tunicas aestate cicadae and 5.803: folliculos ut nunc teretes aestate cicadae linquunt; (c) Tzetzes on Lycophron’s Alexandra 18 (19.28-29 Scheer): οἱ γὰρ τέττιγες ὥσπερ οἱ ὄφεις γεγηρακότες ἀποβάλλουσι τὸ γῆρας †T. See Philetaer. fr. 9.1-2 (K.-A.): οὐχὶ Kερκώπη μὲν ἤδη γέγον’ ἔτη τρισχίλια, / ἡ δὲ Διοπείθους ἀηδὴς Tέλεσις ἕτερα μυρία. The lemma in Lex. Bekk. p. 271, 21 (Kερκώπη· ὄνομα ἑταίρας, καλουμένης οὕτω διὰ κακοήθειαν· κέρκωπες γάρ εἰσιν οἱ κακοῦργοι ἄνθρωποι) is off the mark, for the Kερκώπη Philetaerus mentions is connected to the longevity of the cicada, not to the malignity of the Kέρκωπες, the men-monkeys linked to the Heracles legend. Notice again the awkward syntax: accusative με instead of dative μοι.

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may well be referring to the cicada/deceased, and so ‘befitting’ may imply what is appropriate for a cicada. To the familiar function of the cicada as a symbol of Athenian autochthony,177 Borthwick has added the similarity between the metathesized words Kέκρωψ and κερκώπη. In fact, the grandson of earth-born Kekrops,178 Kephalos, was seized by Eos or Hemera179 and was considered ‘dew-born’. Kephalos was the father of Tithonos, whose celebrated story of being “transformed into a loquacious and ageless cicada kept in a thalamos 180 and nurtured on ambrosia, ‘that is honey, a species of heavenly dew’”,181 is similar to that of “earth-born Erichthonius, kept in a box by Kekrops’ dewdaughters.” 182 These references weave a dense web of mythical associations, which concern autochthony and immortality, passed on from the real tettiges to the human tettiges, the Athenians. On such a reading, one is tempted to reinterpret the last line of the epitaph within the framework of the aforementioned tettigological associations as a disguised reference to the continuation of Kerkope’s cicadaresembling life in her daughter-made grave, i.e. in Persephone’s θάλαμος, just as the earth-born Erichthonios, another symbol of Athenian autochthony, was kept in a box by Kekrops’ daughters, and Tithonos, the paragonal cicada-man, was preserved in a thalamos and nurtured by divine dew. Only now, after having scrupulously examined the entire epitaph, can we return to our initial question concerning the placement and function of the standard expression Φερσεφόνης θάλαμον. By placing this eschatological formula at the middle of the grave epigram instead of its very end, the author of the inscription is able to diminish its _____________ 176

177

178 179 180

181

182

The ‘nähere Angabe’ of the entire epitaph, such as the age of the deceased and her daughter’s building of a grave monument for her are re-employed under the coloring of cicada imagery. See Anacreonteum 34. The ancient fashion followed by the Athenians and the Ionians, who used hair ornaments in the form of τέττιγες, is thought to have originated from their belief that the cicada was earth-born. See Th. 1.6; Ar. Eq. 1331, Nub. 984. Eustathius 395.93. I owe these references, which do not claim to be exhaustive, to Beavies (1988) 97. According to Apollodorus (3.14.3), Cephalus was the son of Cecrops’ daughter Herse (‘dew’). Apollod. 3.14.3 (cf. 1.9.4), Eur. Hipp. 454-456, Paus. 1.3.1 See the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite (5) 236-237 (ἐν θαλάμῳ κατέθηκε, θύρας δ’ ἐπέθηκε φαεινάς. / τοῦ δ’ ἤτοι φωνὴ ῥέει ἄσπετος, οὐδ’ ἔτι κῖκυς), Tzetzes’ long scholion on Lycophron’s Alexandra 18 (Scheer 19.28-29) and Eustathius on Od. 5.1 (p. 1330, 15). Cook (1940) 247-261. See also Davies and Kathirithamby (1986) 126-127. On Tithonos, see Wüst, RE s.v. ‘Tithonus’. Borthwick (1966) 109.

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force and subdue it to the main thematic thread the epitaph unravels, i.e. the cicada-like life and death of Hedytion, whose nickname was ‘the tiny cicada’. The relocation of a standard funerary expression has resulted in a bold but very effective new imagery, one of fusing traditional lore into the sphere of a private grave epigram. In CEG 593, the imagery of Persephone’s chamber is placed first within the framework of traditional beliefs expressed in commonplace statements: (i)

ὀθεὶς μόχθος ἔπαινον ἐπ’ ἀνδράσι τοῖς ἀγαθοῖσιν | ζητεῖν, ηὕρηται δὲ ἄφθονος εὐλογία· | ἧς σὺ τυχὼν ἔθανες, Διονύσιε, καὶ τὸν ἀνάνκης | κοινὸν Φερσεφόνης πᾶσιν ἔχεις θάλαμον. (ii) [Vestigia incerta nominis]. Διονύσιος Ἀ̣λφίνο. (iii) σῶμα μὲν ἐνθάδε σόν, Διονύσιε, γαῖα καλύπτει, | ψυχὴν δὲ ἀθάνατον κοινὸς ἔχει ταμίας· | σοῖς δὲ φίλοις καὶ μητρὶ κασιγνήταις τε λέλοιπας | πένθος ἀείμνηστον σῆς φιλίας φθίμενος· | δισσαὶ δ’ αὖ πατρίδες σ’ ἡ μὲν φύσει, ἡ δὲ νόμοισιν | ἔστερξαν πολλῆς εἵνεκα σωφροσύνης.

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8

(i)

It is no trouble to seek commendation for men of excellence. Abundant praise is found [for them]; having experienced this fair speaking, Dionysios, you died, and are [now] in the chamber of Persephone Ananke, a chamber common to all. (ii) [Missing name]. Dionysios, son of Alphinos. (iii) The earth, Dionysios, covers here your body, but it is our common dispenser who holds your immortal soul. To your friends, mother and sisters you have left the immemorable mourning of your love, as you perished; in turn, your two fatherlands, one by nature, the other by law(s) were fond of you because of your great soundness of mind.

This is one of the longest fourth-century funerary epigrams from Attica. The entire monument consists of a marble stele, with pediment and base. It was found in the Kerameikos, close to the church of Ἁγία Tριάς. There was no relief between the pillars but a painting representing on the left either a man (Gurlitt) or a woman (Brueckner) standing and on the right a man, the deceased Dionysios in all probability, seated. Above the monument, there was a superimposed pillar with a bull looking towards the left but having its horns towards the ground. Two lions were placed at the two foremost angles of the monument. The inscription consists of five elegiac couplets, the first two of which have been inscribed on the architrave, while the re-

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maining three on the base. In between were inscribed the names of the two persons depicted in the painting, which are now lost (as well as the painting). One can still see what has remained from the name of the deceased (Διονύσιος Ἀ̣λφίνο). The interpretation of this long epitaph is intriguing, the more so since we are fortunate to possess a rich harvest of information concerning the entire monument. We are also in a position to identify the deceased, Dionysios, who was the cousin of the orator Hypereides. In fact, since Dionysios was from the deme of Kollytos (which was also the deme of Hypereides) and both the name of Dionysios and that of Alphinos (a rather rare name) were in current use in Hypereides’ family, it is highly likely that the aforementioned relation between the two is secure. Dionysios was a cleruch sent to Samos and, as his father’s name and relation to Hypereides indicate, was clearly an Athenian, not the son (with the same name) of an expatriated Samian who found refuge to Athens after the defeat of the Athenian fleet at Aigospotamoi (405 BCE) and the establishment of an oligarchic régime by Lysander in Samos.183 The two last verses of the inscription reinforce this view even more. The first part of the inscription consists of two elegiac couplets. The first contains a gnomic statement articulated by μέν-δὲ clauses. The core of this maxim (it is easy to praise virtuous men) is contrasted to one of the most basic motifs that funerary orations used both in the 5th and the 4th century for the war dead. This divergence between logos and ergon, best displayed in Pericles’ funeral speech in Thucydides 2.35-46,184 belongs to the traditional thematic armature of the orator, who underscores the ‘impossibility’ of the task he has undertaken: he is unable to confer through his speech on the war dead the praise they really deserve. The epitaph takes a very different stance, since the approval or commendation (ἔπαινος) of the deceased is considered to be an easy task, because of the abundance of praise (εὐλογία) available. The diction of this couplet is based on the twofold balance between _____________ 183

184

See Michel (1900) 832 lines 2-3 = Hicks and Hill (1901) 114 line 2: παρέλαβον οἱ ταμίαι, i.e. the quaestors of the Heraion at Samos, who were elected by the Athenian cleruchs. See Parry (1981) 159, who argues that Thucydides employs this motif no less than 32 times in Pericles’ funeral speech (2.35-46). For this motif, see Kakridis (1961) 55-56; Krischer (1977) 122-134; Ziolkowski (1981) 74-137; Loraux (1986) 236-238. See also Hornblower (1997) 296. For the ‘traditionality’ of this theme, which is common in encomiastic literature (Pind. Pyth. 1.81-85; Call. fr. 384.57-58), see Rusten (1989) 138-139, to whom I owe this reference.

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the μέν-δὲ clauses and ζητεῖν-ηὕρηται verbs, which are bridged by the use of synonyms for the word ‘praise’ (ἔπαινον-εὐλογία). The two words belong, no doubt, to the same semantic field but statistical data show that the former is extremely common in praise contexts, whereas the latter is very rarely attested. In fact, the word ἔπαινος and its derivatives are attested 23 times in the six extant funeral orations (Gorgias, Thucydides, Lysias, Plato, Demosthenes, Hypereides), while the word εὐλογία and its derivatives are found only once.185 While these two observations distinguish the initial couplet of this epitaph from ‘funeral oration’ themes and diction, the expression ἐπ’ ἀνδράσι τοῖς ἀγαθοῖσιν constitutes a formula used for the war dead, who have achieved the status of ἀγαθοί only after their death for the fatherland.186 The term is of course often attested in fourth-century Attic grave epigrams. What makes it extremely noteworthy here is the fact that it indicates, together with the ὀθεὶς μόχθος topic and the ἔπαινος-εὐλογία synonymity, a significant change of motifs and diction pertaining to the epitaphios logos, the Athenian tradition par excellence of commemorating and praising the war dead. The author of the inscription has made the conscious choice to rechristen a number of elements (thematic and dictional) typically associated with the public funeral of the war dead and to reapply them to a private commemoration of an individual who did not die at war. The reappropriation of material belonging to the public sphere and its transfer to the private domain is a constant concern of this long grave epigram and, as I hope to show, lies at the very heart of its function. The examination of this first couplet has shown that the epitaph begins with a noteworthy recourse to ‘public’ funerary language, only to employ it for ‘private’ circumstances possibly via the precedent of epinician poetry. The second couplet uses the typical imagery of Persephone’s chamber to denote the death of Dionysios. The link with the first couplet is effected by the phrase ἧς σὺ τυχὼν ἔθανες, which shows that Dionysios will go to Persephone’s chamber having acquired abundant praise as an ἀγαθὸς ἀνήρ. In this distich the author of the epitaph makes another step towards the direction of personal involvement. Dionysios’ name (in the vocative) and the emphatic ‘you’ (σύ) let a more personal tone emerge. This ‘personal flavor’ is not, as in the first couplet, created by the reuse of ‘public’ funeral language, but through the blending of individual with ‘religious’ thought. In his edition of _____________ 185 186

Th. 2.42.1. See Loraux (1986) 99.

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metrical inscriptions, Hansen notes that the phrase καὶ τὸν ἀνάνκης / κοινὸν Φερσεφόνης πᾶσιν ἔχεις θάλαμον is a mixture of two separate expressions, i.e. τὸν ἀνάνκης κοινὸν πᾶσιν θάλαμον and τὸν κοινὸν Φερσεφόνης πᾶσιν θάλαμον.187 He also argues that behind the word ἀνάνκη we must discern Ἀνάγκη Περσεφόνη, and brings as evidence the existence of Νίκη Ἀθηνᾶ. I clearly side with his argument (contra West),188 but I think there is more to it. In his study on Orphism, Maaß189 has argued that Ananke as an orphic belief is linked in popular imagination with Persephone, the relentless queen of the Underworld.190 As the abundant praise Dionysios has received is indicative of his being a member of the community’s cherished citizens (the ἄνδρες ἀγαθοί), so his ‘presence’ at the chamber of inescapable Persephone/Ananke signifies his participation in his ‘new’ community, the community of the dead, which is common to all men. The adjective κοινός (lines 4 and 7) refers to the ‘supreme isonomia’ of death, as Loraux has neatly put it.191 This does not mean that the polis has completely ‘withdrawn’ and that the deceased is commemorated as belonging not to the citizen body but to the community of the dead. Loraux has rightly observed that “following the tragic writers,192 the private epitaphs of the fourth century193 bitterly recognize the universal law in which men’s time is abolished; but it is significant that during the same period the collective epitaphs of the Kerameikos and the epitaphioi also submit to that law the andres agathoi, reduced to the common lot, although for them the dogma of immortality always arises like some deus ex machina.” 194 In other words, fourth-century private epitaphs are mid-way between the undisputable glory conferred on the ἄνδρες ἀγαθοί who died for their fatherland and the post-fourth-century tradition of the inescapablity of death. In fact, _____________ 187 188 189 190

191 192 193 194

Hansen, CEG 593 (p. 82). See Hansen, CEG 593 (p. 82): “contra M. L. West, privatim in ‘Necessity’s Persephone-chamber’ vertit.” Maaß (1895) 273 n. 57. On Ananke in relation to the Orphics and the Pythagoreans, see Onians (1951) 332. On orphic Ananke, see West (1983) 194-198. Maaß (1895) 273: “Es bedarf endlich kaum des Hinweises, dass die orphische Ananke in der Volksvorstellung mit der unerbittlich zwingenden Unterweltsherrin Persephone selbst zusammenfiel.” On the eschatology behind such ‘orphic’ texts as the bacchic gold lamellae, see Graf and Johnston (2007) 94-136; Tzifopoulos (forthcoming, 2008), especially chapter 3. See Loraux (1986) 114. Aesch. Eum. 649-650; Soph. Ant. 361-364. I owe this reference to Loraux (1986) 114. See GVI 1654. I owe this reference to Loraux (1986) 114. Loraux (1986) 114-115.

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fourth-century grave epigrams (like the funeral orations in this respect) create a balance between the inescapability of death, which is the common lot of humans, and a certain ‘fine death’195 that acquires its ‘excellence’ through civic immortality, or rather immortality because civic.196 This epitaph, though, makes one bold step forward. The civic element is undoubtedly present but not on its own. It is fused with eschatological beliefs deriving from a dionysiac-orphic context promising Dionysios’ immortality. The second part of this grave epigram consists of three elegiac couplets. The first is structured on the antithesis between σῶμα and ψυχή. Dionysios, again addressed in the second person (a clear sign that the tone of the previous couplet is continued), is reassured that his immortal soul is at the hands of a common-to-all divine ταμίας (κοινός). The diction is reminiscent of other fourth-century Attic funerary epigrams beginning with σῶμα:197 σῶμα μὲν ἐντὸς γῆ κατέχει, τὴν σωφ|ροσύνην δέ, Xρυσάνθη, τὴν σὴν ὀ | κατέκρυψε τάφος. (CEG 479) σῶμα μὲν ἐνθάδ’ ἔχει σόν, Δίφιλε, γαῖα θανόντο[ς], | μνῆμα δὲ σῆς ἔλιπες πᾶσι δικαιοσύνης. (CEG 549) σῶμα σὸν ἐν κόλποις, Kαλλιστοῖ, γαῖα καλύπτει, | σῆς δὲ <ἀ>ρετῆς μνήμην σοῖσι φίλοις ἔλιπες. (CEG 551) [σ]ῶμα μὲν ἐν κόλποισι κατὰ χθὼν ἥδε καλ[ύπτει] | [Tι]μ̣οκλεί̯ας, τὴν σὴν δὲ ἀρετὴν οὐθεὶς [φθ]ίσε̣ι α̣[ἰών]· | [ἀθά]νατος μνήμη σωφρ[ο]σύνης ἕνε[κ]α. (CEG 611)198

The reference to an immortal soul is common in fourth-century private epitaphs but the σῶμα-ψυχή opposition is not.199 The closest one gets to the σῶμα-ψυχή antithesis is the epigram on Plato’s death (348/347 BCE) by Speusippus:200 Σῶμα μὲν ἐν κόλποις κατέχει τόδε γαῖα Πλάτωνος ψυχὴ δ’ ἰσόθεον τάξιν ἔχει μακάρων …

_____________ 195 196 197 198 199 200

See Vernant (1982) 45-76. See Loraux (1986) 116-117. See Himmelmann-Wildschütz (1956) 28. = ΣΕΜΑ 2459 See Hansen, CEG 483, 535, 555 (?), 558. See Himmelmann-Wildschütz (1956) 28 (AP [App. Plan.] 16.31). A slightly different version of this same epitaph is offered by Diogenes Laertius 3.44 (I, pp. 139, 24-140, 2), AP 7.61: γαῖα μὲν ἐν κόλποις κρύπτει τόδε σῶμα Πλάτωνος, / ψυχὴ δ’ ἀθάνατον τάξιν ἔχει μακάρων / υἱοῦ Ἀρίστωνος, τόν τις καὶ τηλόθι ναίων / τιμᾷ ἀνὴρ ἀγαθός, θεῖον ἰδόντα βίον. See Tarán (1981) 174, and for Speusippus as the author of the epigram, 450 ff.

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Chapter 2 The earth in her bosom holds here the body of Plato, but his soul has its immortal station among the blest …201

Instead of the μνῆμα/μνήμη ἀρετῆς/δικαιοσύνης etc., these two epitaphs clearly refer to an immortal soul202 placed either at the hands of a divine ταμίας (CEG 593.7) or among the blessed ones (Speusippus’ epigram). Interestingly enough, Lysias’ Funeral Oration expresses the same idea: the dead are mourned as mortal because of their nature, but they are praised as immortals because of their virtue.203 In order to make sense of the progressive unraveling of the epitaph’s thematic kernel, we need to turn to the question of the identity of the ταμίας. Peek thinks it is Zeus,204 whereas Hansen seems to imply that it is Hermes.205 Hermes fits appropriately into the framework of Orphic eschatology, which permeates the epitaph. According to Diogenes Laertius (8.31= Pyth. I, 450.27 VS), Hermes is considered to be the ταμίας of souls: τὸν δὲ Ἑρμῆν ταμίαν εἶναι τῶν ψυχῶν καὶ διὰ τοῦτο Πομπέα λέγεσθαι καὶ Πυλαῖον καὶ Xθόνιον, ἐπειδήπερ οὗτος καὶ εἰσπέμπει ἀπὸ τῶν σωμάτων τὰς ψυχὰς ἀπό τε γῆς καὶ ἐκ θαλάττης.206 Stobaeus (1.49.69)207 mentions a psychotamias and a psychopompos: εἰσὶ γὰρ ἄνωθεν οἱ δορυφόροι <δύο> ὄντες τῆς καθόλου προνοίας, ὧν ὁ μὲν ψυχοτ<α>μίας, ὁ δὲ ψυχοπομπός· καὶ ὁ μὲν ψυχοταμίας ψυχῶν **, ὁ δὲ ψυχοπομπὸς ἀποστολεύς τε καὶ διατάκτης τῶν ἐνσεσωματωμένων ψυχῶν. καὶ ὁ μὲν τηρεῖ, ὁ δὲ προΐησι κατὰ γνώμην τοῦ θεοῦ. The above evidence within the nexus of orphic eschatology about the immortality of the soul points to Hermes as the divine ταμίας of human souls.208 As I will show later on when I examine the monument as a

_____________ 201 202

203 204 205 206 207 208

Translation based on Paton (1917). For the immortality of the soul in sepulchral epigrammatic poetry, see Cougny (1890) in Anth. App.: 189.9-10, 332.6-12, 441.1-2, 479.1-4, 536.2-4, 646.12-13, 697.1-3. Lysias, Funeral Oration (2) 80: οἳ πενθοῦνται μὲν διὰ τὴν φύσιν ὡς θνητοί, ὑμνοῦνται δὲ ὡς ἀθάνατοι διὰ τὴν ἀρετήν. Peek (1960) 321 refers to possible tragic influence but the examples begin as early as Homer (Il. 19.224). See Hansen, CEG 593 (p. 82). See Philippart (1930) 549-552. See Wachsmuth’s and Hense’s edition, vol. 1, p. 464. For the role of Hermes as psychopompos-psychagogos, see Farnell (1869-1909) (5) 1-61; Karouzou (1961) 91-106; Kahn (1979) 210-211; Siebert, LIMC s.v. ‘Hermes’ V1: 285-387; Avagianou (2002) 84-88. For ancient testimonies (this is only a brief selection dating to the 4th century BCE): Od. 24.1-4; Homeric Hymn to Hermes (4) 572-573; Aesch. Pers. 628-630, Cho. 1-2; Soph. El. 110-112, OC

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whole, there is even more evidence reinforcing the identification of ταμίας with Hermes. The epitaph resorts to administrative vocabulary stemming from the official catalogs of ταμίαι. One of the standard expressions used in such documents is either παρέλαβον οἱ ταμίαι or τάδε οἱ ταμίαι παραδεξάμενοι.209 Dionysios was an Athenian cleruch at Samos appointed as ταμίας in the Heraion. As the ταμίαι received and kept valuable objects dedicated to the goddess Hera of Samos, so the divine ταμίας receives and keeps hold of the immortal soul of Dionysios. The epigrammatist has deftly used technical language and applied it to a death-context.210 As Dionysios/ταμίας received and kept protected the objects and gifts people dedicated to the gods, so Hermes, the divine ταμίας (ψυχοταμίας), takes care (τηρεῖ) and brings in the souls once they leave the body (εἰσπέμπει ἀπὸ τῶν σωμάτων τὰς ψυχάς). The second couplet refers to the oikos, the deceased’s family, to whom ‘unforgettable’ mourning has been left. The term ἀείμνηστος must be interpreted within the framework of μνήμη ἀθάνατος, which is often materialized in the σῶμα-μνῆμα thematic pair. Conversely, what is unforgettable is the mourning (πένθος) Dionysios has left to his friends and mother, a mourning that will always remind them of his love (φιλίας). This observation should be ‘read’ together with the intensification of the personal element characterizing the entire second part of the epitaph. The abundance of second person pronouns (σόν, σοῖς σῆς, σ’) clearly shows that the second couplet of the first part of the epigram has paved the way for a focus on the particular deceased whose death is commemorated on this stone. This gradual intensification has started with the reference to the community of the dead (3-4), has continued with the mentioning of the immortality of the soul, and is now concentrated on the double ‘identity’ of Dionysios. The deceased has been loved both by his family and by his two fatherlands. His oikos will always remember him for his φιλία, as his two countries cherished him for his σωφροσύνη. Traditional sophistic polarities, like the paradigmatic nomos-physis antithesis, are deftly used in order to complete Dionysios’ commemoration. The deceased has gained a double immortality: his soul will always be deathless at the hands of the divine ταμίας, and his relatives will always remember his φιλία through their mourning. _____________ 209 210

1547-1548; Ar. Plut. 1132. See also the orphic hymns to Hermes (nos. 28 and 57 [Abel]), where the initiate asks the god to make his life’s end ἐσθλόν. See e.g. IG II2 1371, 1374, 1375, 1377 etc. See Hansen, CEG 593, p. 82.

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The orphic beliefs traced in this epitaph (Persephone-Ananke, immortality of the soul)211 have been blended within Eleusinian ritual, which in fourth-century Athens has become extremely prominent. Persephone-Ananke is, for example, a clear manifestation of this blending. In addition to these observations, I would like to focus my attention on the monument the epitaph belongs to, and in particular on the bull placed on the pillar behind the naiskos and the two lions on the right and left. The bull, under which Dionysios’ grave is placed, is a typical Dionysiac symbol.212 The bull-formed Dionysus is an ancient reminiscence of Dionysus as leader of the herd of cattle (Διόνυσος Kαθηγεμών).213 The role of Dionysus as escort and leader is also connected to his interceding with the rulers the Underworld in order to help or save his initiates.214 A krater from Apulia215 of the Darius _____________ 211 212

213

214 215

For orphic lore concerning the origin and fate of the human soul, see Bernabé PEG 2, frs. 421-469 (p. 349-394), especially frs. 425-426. For the connection between Dionysus and Persephone, see Rose (1936) 79-96; Graf (1993) 244. Both scholars think that Persephone’s ‘ancient grief’ in the Pindaric threnos (fr. 133 Snell-Maehler) stems from “the death and dismemberment of the first Dionysus” by the Titans (Graf 1993, 244). There are numerous references to Dionysus as bull or bull-born. I offer some representative examples: Eur. Ba. 1017: φάνηθι ταῦρος, Plut. Aetia Romana et Graeca 299 A10-299 B 11: ‘Διὰ τί τὸν Διόνυσον αἱ τῶν Ἠλείων γυναῖκες ὑμνοῦσαι παρακαλοῦσι βοέῳ ποδὶ παραγίνεσθαι πρὸς αὐτάς; ἔχει δ’ οὕτως ὁ ὕμνος (Anthol. Lyr. Diehll II, p. 206) ‘Ἐλθεῖν, ἦρ’, ὦ Διόνυσε, / ἅλιον ἐς ναόν / ἁγνὸν σὺν Xαρίτεσσιν ἐς ναὸν τῷ βοέῳ / ποδὶ δύων.’ εἷτα δὶς ἐπᾴδουσιν ‘ἄξιε Tαῦρε’. Πότερον ὅτι καὶ βουγενῆ προσαγορεύουσι καὶ ταῦρον ἔνιοι τὸν θεόν; ἢ τῷ μεγάλῳ ποδὶ ‘βοέῳ’ λέγουσιν, ὡς βοῶπιν ὁ ποιητὴς (A 551 et passim) τὸν μεγαλόφθαλμον καὶ ‘βουγάιον’ (N 824, σ 79) τὸν μεγάλαυχον; see also Plut. De Is. et Os. 35: Διὸ καὶ ταυρόμορφα Διονύσου ποιοῦσιν ἀγάλματα πολλοὶ τῶν Ἑλλήνων· αἱ δ’ Ἠλείων γυναῖκες καὶ παρακαλοῦσιν εὐχόμεναι «ποδὶ βοείῳ τὸν θεὸν ἐλθεῖν» πρὸς αὐτάς, Ἀργείοις δὲ βουγενὴς Διόνυσος ἐπίκλην ἐστίν· ἀνακαλοῦνται δ’ αὐτὸν ὑπὸ σαλπίγγων ἐξ ὕδατος ἐμβάλλοντες εἰς τὴν ἄβυσσον ἄρνα τῷ Πυλαόχῳ; Athen. 11.51.2-4: ἀφ’ οὗ τὸν Διόνυσον κερατοφυῆ πλάττεσθαι ὅτι τε ταῦρον καλεῖσθαι ὑπὸ πολλῶν ποιητῶν. ἐν δὲ Kυζίκῳ καὶ ταυρόμορφος ἵδρυται. ‘Taureas’ (bull) is a presonal name derived from the name of the Samian month Tαυρεών. The name Tαυρεών is attested in the local calendars of other Ionian cities but not in Athens. Since Dionysios is connected to Samos, then the bull (Tauros) on his monument may also have a Samian connotation. Graf (1993) 256. Trendall and Cambitoglou (1992); Johnston and McNiven (1996) 25-36. (pl. 1); Avagianou (2002) 91-97; Tzifopoulos (2002) 161-162. See also Bažant and Berger-Doer, LIMC s.v. ‘Pentheus’ VII 1: 315 no. 70; Berger-Doer, LIMC s.v. ‘Oinops’ VII 1: 26 no. 1, s.v. ‘Persis II’ VII 1: 348 no. 1, s.v. ‘Acheta’ VIII 1: 501 no. 1; Krauskopf and Simon, LIMC s.v. ‘Mainades’ VIII 1: 792 (e); Felten, LIMC s.v. ‘Nekyia’ VIII 1: 876 no. 23.

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Painter216 depicting a scene from the Underworld presents a seated Hades having Persephone next to him. Both of them are placed within their palace (which has the shape of a naiskos or aedicula). Dionysus and Hermes are also depicted in this scene but outside the naiskos. Dionysus is holding Hades’ hand either to shake it or to ‘alert the audience’ as Boegehold has neatly put it.217 This may well be indicative of Dionysus’ role as intermediary between the dead initiate (depicted on the other side of the krater within a naiskos or aedicula, which gives the whole scene a strong eschatological meaning)218 and Hades. Hermes (depicted on the side of Persephone) is holding his kerykeion with his left hand and has his right hand placed upon a column.219 It is noteworthy that Hades and Persephone, rulers of the Underworld, have their backs turned against Actaion, Pentheus, and Agave, because of their well-known negative treatment of Dionysus and his cult. On the other side of the krater, the deceased is also placed within a naiskos. He is a naked young man, holding a staff in his right hand, a phiale and a sort of linen in his left hand, and bearing a band on his head. He is looking towards the left. It is highly likely that the dead man was an initiate (μύστης). His placement within the naiskos stands for a sort of private apotheosis.220 These observations are of key importance for the interpretation of CEG 593. In particular, the reference to the immortality of Dionysios’ soul in conjunction with the abundant praise available for the ἄνδρες ἀγαθοί (lines 1-2 of the epitaph) may be connected to the promise the initiate regularly receives in the ‘orphicdionysiac’ golden lamellae concerning his joining the company of heroes.221 In this light, I think that the divine ταμίας holding Dionysios’ soul is Hermes, whose role as ψυχοπομπός/ψυχαγωγός/ψυχοταμίας is well attested and whose connection to orphic Persephone is guaranteed, as the Apuleian krater amply shows. The Dionysiac overtones, which are strongly suggested through the bull and the two lions above and right and left of Dionysios’ naiskos respectively, must be interpreted within _____________ 216 217 218 219 220

221

For Apulian vases and the Darius Painter, see Mayo (1982) 79 ff; Aellen, Cambitoglou, Chamay (1986) 11-175; Moret (1993) 293-300 figs. 1a-1d. Boegehold (1999) 25-26. According to Graf (1993) 256. I agree with Avagianou (2002) 94, who argues that Hermes is placed on Persephone’s side because he is, after all, linked to orphic Persephone. Moret (1993) 314 ft. 136 has shown that heroes and heroines are often placed within a naiskos. For the theme of private apotheosis, see Schauenburg (1989) 57. See Zuntz (1971) B 1, 11, 358-359, 380-381: καὶ τότ’ ἔπειτ’ ἄ[λλοισι μεθ’] ἡρώεσσιν ἀνάξεις.

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the nexus of orphic beliefs reflected in this grave epigram. This is indeed a remarkable case among fourth-century Attic epitaphs, for the imagery of Persephone’s chamber has been used as the platform for the expression of dionysiac-orphic beliefs concerning the immortality of the soul. In CEG 603, the expression Persephone’s chamber is joined to the idea of reciprocity inherent to human-divine relations: (i)

Φιλιτία. | Πολυκράτης Πολυαράτου Κριωεύς. | Πολύμνηστος Πολυαράτου Κριωεύς. (ii) [Νικ]οπτολέμη Νικοκλέους Ἑ[κ]αλῆθεν | [Πο]λυ[μν]ή̣στου Κριωέως γυνή. (iii) σῆς ἀρετῆς, Νικοπτολέμη, χρόνος οὔποτε λ[ύ]σει | μνήμην ἀθάνατον, σῶι πόσει ἣν ἔλιπες· 4 εἰ δέ τις εὐσεβίας παρὰ Φερσεφόνει χάρις ἐστίν, | καὶ σοὶ τῆσδε μέρος δῶκε Τύχη φθιμένει. (i)

Philitia. Polykrates, son of Polyaratos from the deme of Krioa. Polymnestos, son of Polyaratos from the deme of Krioa. (ii) Nikoptoleme, daughter of Nikokles from the deme of Hecale. The wife of Polymnestos from the deme of Krioa. (iii) Time will never, Nikoptoleme, dissolve your virtue’s immortal memory, which you left to your husband; if there is in the abode of Persephone some gratitude for piety, Fortune gave you, when you perished, part of it.

This epitaph was inscribed on a fourth-century marble stele, which had been found in Ἀθηνᾶς street, between the churches of Ἅγιος Ἰωάννης and Ἁγία Eἰρήνη, but has been now lost. The first part of the inscription contains the names of Φιλιτία, Πολυκράτης, and Πολύμνηστος. In the second part, the name of the deceased is designated (Nικοπτολέμη) and is accompanied by her father’s name (Nικοκλῆς) and the deme he belonged to (Ἑκαλῆθεν). Then comes her husband’s name (Πολυμνήστου) and his deme (Kριωέως). This four-verse epitaph has a twofold structure: (a) the first part consists of the first two verses, where the deceased’s name features in the first line together with a rather common expression stating that time (χρόνος) will be unable to defeat the immortal memory of the virtue Nikoptoleme left to her husband. The phrase μνήμη ἀθάνατος, which is also attested in two other fourth-century Attic epitaphs (CEG 591.7-8: … μνή[μην? ?τε λέλοι]πας / ἀθάνατον …; CEG 611.3: [ἀθά]να-

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τος μνήμη),222 is juxtaposed to the relative clause σῶι πόσει ἣν ἔλιπες in the closure of the first elegiac couplet. This placement is confluent with the aural interplay between the second-person personal pronouns (σῆς – σῶι) referring to Nikoptoleme’s virtue and her husband respectively. The composer of the epitaph may well have exploited the acoustics and semantics of the name of the deceased’s husband (Πολύμνηστος: the much remembered one), in order to create a strong bond between husband and wife. In other words, after her death Nikoptoleme left to her husband a lasting memory, the very thing that is inherent in his own name. The immortal memory of Nikoptoleme’s ἀρετή is thus reflected in Polymnestos’ name as a true token of love. The diction of the initial elegiac couplet is traditional, the more so since it reiterates standard funerary vocabulary, which is often, but not exclusively, used in fourth-century oratory: XPONOΣ:223 Dem. Against Androtion (22) 13.9-10: … πολλῶν δὲ καὶ μεγάλων ἀγαθῶν τοῖς ἄλλοις Ἕλλησι κατέστησαν αἴτιοι, ὧν οὐδ’ ὁ χρόνος τὴν μνήμην ἀφελέσθαι δύναται. Dem. Against Aristogeiton 1 (25) 97.3-4: ἐγὼ δὲ τοὺς προγόνους τοὺς ὑμετέρους καὶ τὰς ἀρετὰς τὰς ἐκείνων ἀνακαλῶ, ὧν οὐδ’ ὁ χρόνος τὴν μνήμην ἠφάνικεν, εἰκότως. MNHMH AΘANATOΣ: 1. Herod. 4.144: οὗτος δὲ ὁ Mεγάβαζος εἴπας τόδε [τὸ] ἔπος ἐλίπετο ἀθάνατον μνήμην πρὸς Ἑλλησποντίων. 2. Lys. Funeral Oration (2) 6: τῆσδε μὲν τῆς πόλεως διὰ τὴν ἀρετὴν ἀθάνατον <τὴν> μνήμην ἐποίησαν, τὴν δὲ ἑαυτῶν πατρίδα διὰ τὴν ἐνθάδε συμφορὰν ἀνώνυμον κατέστησαν. 3. Lys. Funeral Oration (2) 81: οἵτινες, ἐπειδὴ θνητῶν σωμάτων ἔτυχον, ἀθάνατον μνήμην διὰ τὴν ἀρετὴν <τὴν> αὑτῶν κατέλιπον. 4. Plato, Symposium 208d5: ἢ προαποθανεῖν τὸν ὑμέτερον Kόδρον ὑπὲρ τῆς βασιλείας τῶν παίδων, μὴ οἰομένους ἀθάνατον μνήμην ἀρετῆς πέρι ἑαυτῶν ἔσεσθαι, ἣν νῦν ἡμεῖς ἔχομεν. 5. Isocr. To Nicocles (2) 37: ἀλλ’ ἐπειδὴ θνητοῦ σώματος ἔτυχες, πειρῶ τῆς ψυχῆς ἀθάνατον τὴν μνήμην καταλιπεῖν. 6. Isocr. Panegyricus (4) 84: καὶ γὰρ ἐκείνων τὰ μὲν σώματα ταῖς τῆς φύσεως ἀνάγκαις ἀπέδοσαν, τῆς δ’ ἀρετῆς ἀθάνατον τὴν μνήμην ἐποίησαν.

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223

The same expression is also attested in only one non-Attic epitaph dating from the 4th century BCE. See CEG 858: … [ἀθ]άνατον μνήμην παισί τε καὶ προγόνοις. See also Simonides fr. 26.4-5 (PMG): ἐντάφιον δὲ τοιοῦτον οὔτ’ εὐρὼς / οὔθ’ ὁ πανδαμάτωρ ἀμαυρώσει χρόνος.

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Chapter 2 7. Isocr. On Peace (8) 94: καὶ γὰρ οἱ πρόγονοι τοιούτους αὐτοὺς παρασχόντες τήν τε πόλιν εὐδαιμονεστάτην τοῖς ἐπιγιγνομένοις παρέδοσαν καὶ τῆς αὐτῶν ἀρετῆς ἀθάνατον τὴν μνήμην κατέλιπον. 8. Isocr. Evagoras (9) 3: ... καὶ πάντα ποιοῦντας, ὅπως ἀθάνατον τὴν περὶ αὑτῶν μνήμην καταλείψουσιν. 9. Isocr. Evagoras (9) 71: … θνητὸς δὲ γενόμενος ἀθάνατον τὴν περὶ αὑτοῦ μνήμην κατέλιπεν …

In almost all of these cases, the context is that of a funeral oration, even if only two examples belong to a real ἐπιτάφιος, i.e. that of Lysias. The common motif employed in these examples refers to the sacrifice of one’s life for the fatherland. Dying on the battlefield in defense of one’s native country constitutes, needless to say, a locus communis of the rhetoric of the ἐπιτάφιοι and, by extension, of fourthcentury oratory, which promotes the same cultural ideal. By employing the language, exploiting the rhetorical constraints and diction of the ἐπιτάφιος (the public commemoration of the war dead) and applying it to a woman, who does not belong at all to the same context, the metrical inscription under discussion contrives to match traditional motifs with the individual commemorated in this stele. The reason for this clever usurpation of traditional material may be seen through the effort of the composer of the epitaph to play with the name of Nikoptoleme (the one who is victorious at war), as he probably did with her husband’s name, Poly-mnestos (the one who is much remembered). The gnomic statement occupying the second elegiac couplet builds on the motif of Persephone’s chamber, which is here denoted by the expression παρὰ Φερσεφόνει. The consolatory nature of this maxim can be seen through the reference to the gratitude (χάρις), part of which (τῆσδε μέρος) Nikoptoleme has already received, as the emphatic καὶ σοὶ (to you also) indicates, after her death. This second elegiac couplet poses a number of interesting questions, which are all extremely important for understanding its connection to the first two verses. First, this is the only case in the extant corpus of fourthcentury Attic epitaphs containing a gnomic statement in the form of an εἰ-clause, where this hypothetically expressed consolatory maxim is not placed at the beginning of the epigram. Moreover, the second couplet is (like the first) replete with expressions and concepts featuring in fourth-century Attic oratory.

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Xάρις is expressed in terms of a reciprocal exchange between Fortune and Nikoptoleme, who is rewarded for her piety (εὐσέβεια).224 But as is the case with Euripides’ Alcestis, this χάρις is undermined by the lack of an initial χάρις, since Nikoptoleme had lost her life after all.225 Xάρις is no more the result of a reciprocal exchange inherent in the archaic and early classical notion of the term but the outcome of Tyche’s ambiguous hovering and involvement in human life. Having denied χάρις to Nikoptoleme in the first place, Tyche now, ironically and asymmetrically, endows her with a share of χάρις in the Underworld. By following the common opposition in rhetorical practice between reality and illusion, the irony acquires a more bitter tone. The composer of the epigram may in fact be playing with the idea that Tyche’s ironical offering of a share of χάρις to Nikoptoleme in exhange for her piety is illusive not only for the deceased but for Tyche as well. This is why the gnomic εἰ-statement is placed after the first elegiac couplet, where the real award for Nikoptoleme lies. The deceased woman has left to her husband μνήμην ἀθάνατον, which does not need the ‘help’ of Tyche in order to be gracefully acknowledged. Nikoptoleme’s arete has ‘defeated’ time, making her memory undying, regardless of whether Tyche has partly granted her χάρις in return to the piety she showed during her lifetime, and as a surplus of reward for Nikoptoleme. The real χάρις for Nikoptoleme will be that her husband will always cherish her memory because of her ἀρετή. This is indeed a nice touch of pathos, a truly remarkable but sophisticated way of highlighting the importance of one’s remembrance among the living and not in the world beyond. The hidden presence of the deceased woman below the earth, which is usually highlighted through the σῆμα, has become a figurative ‘presence’ among the living, through the μνήμη ἀθάνατος she will bestow upon her husband.226 By underscoring a theme of fundamental importance for the rhetoric of both the inscribed and the literary sepulchral epigram, Nikoptoleme’s funerary inscription makes full use of the imagery of Persephone’s chamber in order to present the deceased’s real measure of praise, her living memory in her husband’s heart. The gravesite might very well have contributed to the underscoring of Nikoptoleme’s ‘extended presence’ among the living. Unfortunately, the grave monument has _____________ 224 225

226

For χάρις, see Hewitt (1924a) 35-51, (1924b) 142-161, (1924c) 30-48; Maclachlan (1993) 151-160. See Eur. Alc. 744-746: … εἰ δέ τι κἀκεῖ / πλέον ἔστ᾽ ἀγαθοῖς, τούτων μετέχουσ᾽ / Ἅιδου νύμφῃ παρεδρεύοις. I owe this parallel to Zumin (1975) 366. See Bruss (2005) 30-34.

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not survived the perils of time but the extra metrum mention of her name next to her family members is an indirect reminder for her dear ones of her undying memory.

Chapter 3 Public Display, Private Focus: Redefining Social Virtues Ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη are the most often attested abstract concepts in fourth-century Attic grave epigrams, since the former features no less than 32 times1 and the latter 23.2 Their use within a funerary context is already known from the fifth century, where the relevant numbers are 6 and 2 respectively.3 This significant difference regarding the frequency by which these two principal virtues are attested in grave epigrams of the 5th and 4th centuries in Attica clearly reveals their increasing importance for fourth-century Athenian society. Before embarking on an examination of their typology in fourth-century grave epigrams, we should briefly dwell on the semantic field in which they both belong. This method becomes all the more indispensable, since we shall see how historical and political changes stemming from the Peloponnesian war rapidly and drastically altered the very foundations of the Athenian city-state, effectuating a re-channeling of interest from the field of civic activity to that of familyoriented interest. In this light, old-time aristocratic virtues, such as ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη, were transformed into an incipient ‘privatized-world’, for which fourth-century Athens provided the necessary seedbed.

Towards a Τypology of ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη Both ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη belong to a system or canon of virtues, which had been considered of cardinal importance since the archaic _____________ 1 2 3

CEG 474, 483, 490, 491, 493-495, 497, 510-511, 512, 513.3 and 4, 516, 518, 524, 527, 542, 551-552, 554, 561, 568, 585, 589, 594, 599, 600, 603, 608, 611, 624. CEG 479, 480, 486, 494-495, 518, 531, 542, 548.3 and 7, 554, 560, 568, 573, 577, 584, 585, 590, 593.11, 599, 604, 611, 624. Ἀρετή: CEG 69, 81, 83, 92, 96, 99; σωφροσύνη: CEG 96, 102 and CEG 67, 69 (σώφρων, σώφρονα).

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period. In late archaic and during a significant part of the classical period, ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη were basically deemed civic virtues pertaining to an aristocratic Weltanschauung. In the case of Athens the tyranny of the Thirty and the negative role Athenian oligarchy played under these circumstances resulted in a redirection of ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη towards the large democratic basis of Athenian society. This ‘democratization’ of σωφροσύνη constitutes the trademark 4 of fourth-century Athens and signifies a society in transition, where the restoration of the σώφρων πολιτεία 5 was by far the highest priority in the political agenda, even at a time, when the rise of Macedon would soon make such internal political dichotomies sound pointless. Next to this new civic aspect of ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη, which were now translated into the democratic vocabulary of λειτουργίαι (the services offered to the state by the citizens), we may observe the emergence of a family-oriented form of ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη. The sheer number of private tombstones in fourth-century Athens, to use an example directly relevant to this study, shows that the πολυάνδρια which constituted the main form of commemoration of the war dead are no more in the foreground of attention, but have given their place to an increasing concern for the individual as a family member. The hidden presence of the deceased is still important but rather for his family members, friends and dear ones and not for the state. This being the case, ‘inoffensive behavior in private life’6 is the other, privately oriented, new aspect of ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη in fourthcentury Athens. One new characteristic of ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη was the preservation of a delicate balance between hate for oligarchy and love for democracy on the one hand, and wise and responsible social behavior both in public and private life on the other.7 Being μέτριος and κόσμιος implies that excessive ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη may well lead to haughtiness and arrogant pride, which is what has brought about the downfall of Athens in the recent past.8 One of the most important differences between the function of Athenian and Spartan society concerned the eagerness of the former to undertake risky enterprises and always aim higher and the procrastination of the latter in making im_____________ 4 5 6 7 8

North (1966) 135. Aeschin. On the Embassy (2) 176. North (1966) 136. See North (1966) 136, who cites Lys. (16.3 and 16.10 ff. and 26.4-5) as examples of this new form of conduct. On μέτριος and κόσμιος as foil terms for σωφροσύνη, see North (1966) 136138.

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portant decisions, their hesitation in front of great challenges. Athenian πολυπραγμοσύνη (hyperactivism, interventionism),9 εὐβουλία (good counsel, soundness of judgment, prudence),10 δραστήριον (capable of effective action) are starkly opposed to Spartan ἀπραγμοσύνη (inactivity), ἡσυχία (stillness, inertia, peace), μέλλησις (procrastination).11 The impact of the painful memories of the Athenian defeat in the Peloponnesian war was so great that these Athenian virtues were held ‘responsible’ for their defeat, whereas the equivalent Spartan values became less and less negatively colored. To press this point further, it was the excessive application of the so-called Athenian virtues that was considered to be one of the main reasons for Athenian failure, whereas certain Spartan values started acquiring gradually a rather positive weight. Sheltered under the umbrella of μεσότης, μετριότης and κοσμιότης, the old-time virtues of ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη began to be reinterpreted in fourth-century Athens, in an attempt to obliterate dangerous excessiveness leading to pride and arrogance. Understanding the way these values are used in fourth-century Attic grave epigrams is of paramount importance for interpreting both their typology and function. A survey of all fourth-century Attic grave epigrams shows that ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη are expressed by the same system of formulas. This system includes the following standardized phrases, which I will examine in due order: (a) μετέχειν or μέρος ἔχων/ἔχουσα ἀρετῆς and/or σωφροσύνης + numerals (b) ἀσκεῖν ἀρετήν/σωφροσύνην (c) αὐξάνειν ἀρετήν/σωφροσύνην (d) μνημεῖον ἀρετῆς/σωφροσύνης (e) κλέος + ἀρετή/σωφροσύνη

(a) μετέχειν or μέρος ἔχων/ἔχουσα ἀρετῆς and/or σωφροσύνης + Quantitative Terms The use of the verb μετέχειν and the genitive of ἀρετή/σωφροσύνη in the sense of ‘sharing, participating’ acquires a specific tone, which _____________ 9 10 11

I am following the translation by Raaflaub (2006) 195 and 203 respectively. See LSJ s.v. I. See also Tsakmakis (2006) 180. One of the most famous passages where these differences are antithetically epitomized is the second speech of the Corinthians to the Spartans in Th. 1.68-72.

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must be interpreted in the light of the expressions μέρος ἔχων/ἔχουσα ἀρετῆς and/or σωφροσύνης and the use of quantitative terms for ἀρετή and/or σωφροσύνη. Breuer12 has argued that expressions of the form μέρος + genitive aim at assigning great significance to certain values, so as to show how much the deceased endorsed them. From this perspective, traditional virtues become individualized and, in this context, oriented to the deceased. What Breuer’s theory does not explain is (a) why μέρος is so often attested in inscribed epitaphs from fourth-century Attica and (b) why it refers preeminently to ἀρετή and/or σωφροσύνη.13 A full list of the relevant expressions runs as follows: CEG 480: [σ]ωφροσ[ύνης πλε]ῖ[στον καὶ φιλί]ας μετέχων14 CEG 540: πλεῖστον ἔχ<ο>υσα μέρ<ο>ς <Θ>ε<ό>[κλεια σωφροσύνης]15 CEG 554: ἑπτὰ βίου δεκάδας πᾶσιν φίλος οὐθένα | λυπῶν / σωφροσύνης τε ἀρετῆς τε δικαιο|σύνης τε μετασχὼν / τῆς κοινῆς μοίρας πᾶ|σιν ἔχω τὸ μέρος. CEG 604: Kλεαγόρα, πλείστης σωφροσύνης [μέτοχος]

According to LSJ, the word μέρος basically denotes: (Ia) a share, a portion; (Ib) heritage, lot, destiny.16 It is often attested in fourth-century oratory in reference to a portion or share of one’s property (οὐσία). In Isaeus, μέρος is often found in the genitive or accusative in expressions where the verb λαγχάνω (to receive a share of, to get possession of something) is employed:17 5.16: διὰ δὲ ταῦτα ἔδοξέ τε ἡμῖν λαχεῖν τοῦ κλήρου κατ’ ἀγχιστείαν, καὶ ἐλάχομεν τὸ μέρος ἕκαστος. 7.20: ταύτῃ μὲν οὖν οὐδὲ μέρους λαχεῖν προσῆκε, Θρασυβούλῳ δὲ ἁπάντων… 7.23: ταῦτα τῶν νόμων κελευόντων ὁ μὲν ἀνὴρ ὢν οὐδὲ τοῦ μέρους εἴληχεν 8.37: … τῆς οὐσίας, μέρος πολλοστὸν τούτῳ μεταδιδοὺς … 11.23: διαρρήδην κελεύων τοῦ μέρους ἕκαστον λαγχάνειν …

_____________ 12 13 14 15 16

17

Breuer (1995) 45. It is occasionally used with δικαιοσύνη (CEG 586). See the supplements offered by Peek in GVI 420. See Peek GVI 340. I deliberately do not include Th. 2.37 (οὐκ ἀπὸ μέρους τε πλέον ἐς τὰ κοινὰ ἢ ἀπ’ ἀρετῆς προτιμᾶται) in my examination, as I side with Gomme, Rhodes, Rusten, and Hornblower who interpret ἀπὸ μέρους as meaning ‘in rotation’ and not as meaning ‘on the basis of part’, ‘sectionally’, ‘according to rank or family’. See Hornblower (1997) 300. See Denommé (1968) 76-77 s.v. μέρος. A rather different use of μέρος is attested in Dem. Against Meidias (21) 165, who has both ἐν χάριτος μέρει καὶ δωρειᾶς and ἐν εὐεργεσίας ἀριθμήσει μέρει.

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Increased concern about family issues is often, as the above examples amply show, property-oriented. The use of the verb λαγχάνω calls attention to the fact that in ancient Greek the allotment of a portion of property was expressed in diction similar to the allotment of one’s destiny.18 The famous Phrasikleia epigram (CEG 24) is one of the oldest attestations of the metaphorical use of λαγχάνω in inscribed epitaphs: σε̃μα Φρασικλείας. | κόρε κεκλέσομαι | αἰεί, ἀντὶ γάμο | παρὰ θε¸ο̃ν τοῦτο | λαχο̃σ’ ὄνομα. [This is] the sema of Phrasikleia. I will always be called a kore, having been alloted this name from the gods instead of a marriage.

The double meaning of μέρος is also attested in a fourth-century inscribed epitaph from Athens (CEG 541). The text reads as follows: (i)

καὶ ζῶσαι πλούτου πατρικοῦ μέρος | εἶχον ὁμοίως, τὴν αὑτῶν φιλίαν καὶ | χρήματα ταὔτ’ ἐνόμιζον. (ii) [οὐ]δ̣ένα λυπήσασα, τέκνων δ’ ἐπιδοῦσ|[α ἔτι] παῖδας τῆς κοινῆς μοίρας πᾶσ|[ιν ἔχ]ε̣ι̣ τὸ μέρος. (iii) […]οστράτη, Mελινὼ []νος Ἀναφλυστ[ίου].

4

(i)

While they were alive, they had in like manner a portion of their fa ther’s wealth, considering both their love and possessions to be the same thing. (ii) Having brought sadness to nobody, and having seen in addition children from her own children, / she has a portion of the fate common to all. (iii) [Phil]ostrate, Melino […] from Anaphlystos.

According to Kaibel,19 it is the girl commemorated in the second distich who died first. When this second sister died, her own name was probably added to that of her sister, as it can be inferred from the fact that both distichs have been inscribed by the same hand during the same period. The first distich aimed at underscoring the fact that the equality both sisters enjoyed in property issues during their lifetime 20 _____________ 18 19 20

The very name of one of the three Fates (whose Greek name Mοῖραι indicates a part or portion [<μείρομαι]) was Λάχεσις (‘disposer of lots’), [<λαγχάνω]. (1878) 81. See also Hansen CEG 541. The emphasis laid on the fact that the daughters had an equal share of their father’s property during their lifetime may be explained by the fact that they were epikleroi, i.e. heiresses. This would fit very well the picture emerging from this epitaph where no brother is mentioned, for the epikleroi were brotherless girls, who upon the death of their father inherited his property. See Pomeroy (1997) 123: “The nearest male relative of their father is obliged

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resulted in their regarding love and possessions as the same thing. In other words, the sister who commissioned the erection of the memorial and engraving of the inscription was willing to bring to notice the bond between herself and her deceased sister. What is central to my interpretation is that she carried out this task by equating love with property issues and by accentuating the significance of the fact that the two sisters were on a par regarding their inheritance. Accordingly, the second distich may be seen as semantically following on from the first. The fact that the deceased caused no sadness to anyone (including her sister who has erected the grave monument) seems to be presented as the outcome of the ‘equality’ the two sisters enjoyed in property issues. Having had grandchildren before passing away, her ‘portion’ in death is the proper one, given that death is the common lot of all mortals. Thus, CEG 541 offers a first hand testimony about the double meaning and function of μέρος in fourth-century Attic grave epitaphs. Building on the fourth-century social concerns about family property on the one hand and the new meaning of ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη on the other, I would like to suggest that μέρος represents two different aspects of Athenian beliefs. The first has to do with the ‘democratization’ the entire system of old aristocratic values has undergone from the last part of the fifth century and well into the 4th century. From this perspective, the traditional ‘restraint’ connected to σωφροσύνη as an aristocratic value began to be associated with Spartan ἡσυχία, and acquired a negative color. Σωφροσύνη in this respect had almost become ἀπραγμοσύνη,21 while moderation and reasoned restraint had taken the place of audacity, a typical Athenian advantage. In this light, having a share, and often a large one (οὐκ ἐλάχιστον, πλεῖστον), of this new, balanced σωφροσύνη is a true praise for the deceased. The second aspect refers to the recurrent use of μέρος in law courts in reference to property issues and to the administration of the household.22 Eagerness to participate in liturgies _____________

21 22

to marry the epikleros. If either spouse is already married, he or she must divorce his or her current mate. The children of the epikleros, in turn, were considered descendants and heirs of their deceased grand-father, became members of his oikos, and were enabled to continue his patriline.” On multiple epikleroi, see Karabélias (2002) 101-105. See Alexiou (2005) 145. This aspect of σωφροσύνη is typical in Isocrates. See Strauss (1993) 42: “What is interesting for our purposes is that Athenians spoke analogously of ‘having a share in one’s paternal estate’ (tôn patrôiôn echeis to meros, Dem. 39.35) or ‘a share in paternal shrines and tombs’ (hierôn kai taphôn patrôiôn metousiai, Aeschin. 2.152). Polis and oikos were analo-

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(λειτουργίαι), as proof that the citizen was practicing admirable economy in private life, therefore administering properly his household, resulted in his being able to offer his μέρος to the state, namely to be eager to show his new kind of σωφροσύνη by taking part (having his ‘share’/μέρος), in this ‘liturgic’ form of social service.23 The use of μετέχω may also have certain social overtones. The verb is unattested in any inscribed epigram between the 8th-5th centuries but occurs nine times (once in the form of μέτοχος) in fourthcentury inscribed epigrams. Interestingly enough, all these are funerary epigrams and, with the exception of CEG 704 (from Cos), they come from fourth-century Attica. Such a high chronological and geographical concentration can only be explained under the influence of the political, social and cultural contexts provided by fourth-century Athenian society. Having a share of such rebaptized virtues as ἀρετή, δικαιοσύνη,24 σωφροσύνη, which are now both publicly and privately determined, stands for the highest praise of any deceased Athenian. Traditional Athenian vocabulary designating citizenship included, next to πολίτης, ἀστός and Ἀθηναῖος, expressions highlighting the idea of ‘having a share or portion of’, of ‘participation’. This can be a share in the city,25 in courts,26 in public and religious affairs.27 Fourthcentury Attic grave epigrams may have also functioned as some form

_____________ 23

24 25

26 27

gously shared institutions, and in both cases membership was exclusive and challengeable.” See also CEG 586, where justice (δικαιοσύνη) is called a ‘true possession’ (ἔτυμογ κτῆμα). The deceased, Daiokrates, arrived at the end of life that is common to all after having had his large (μέρος οὐκ ἐλάχιστον) share of this ‘true possession’, i.e. justice. Interestingly enough, economic vocabulary (ἀφνηόν, προῖκα, δίδοται εἰς τὸ χρεών) is once more used in the context of a funerary epigram. See CEG 554, 586, 594. See Soph. OT 630: κἀμοὶ πόλεως μέτεστιν, οὐχὶ σοὶ μόνῳ; Dem. Against Boeotus 1 (39) 31: οὐκοῦν δεινὸν εἰ τῆς μὲν πόλεως καὶ τῶν ὑπ᾽ ἐκείνου καταλειφθέντων διὰ τοὔνομα τοῦτο μέτεστί σοι, Against Eubulides (57) 1-2: … δεῖξαι καὶ μετὸν τῆς πόλεως ἡμῖν καὶ πεπονθότ᾽ ἐμαυτὸν οὐχὶ προσήκονθ᾽ ὑπὸ τούτου; Ps.-Dem. In Neaeram (59) 111: … διότι ὁμοίως αὐταῖς ταύτην κατηξιοῦτε μετέχειν τῶν τῆς πόλεως καὶ τῶν ἱερῶν; Arist. Ath. Pol. 26.4: καὶ τρίτῳ μετὰ τοῦτον ἐπὶ Ἀντιδότου διὰ τὸ πλῆθος τῶν πολιτῶν Περικλέους εἰπόντος ἔγνωσαν μὴ μετέχειν τὴς πόλεως ὃς ἂν μὴ ἐξ ἀμφοῖν ἀστοῖν ᾖ γεγονώς. See Pl. Leg. 768b: ὁ γὰρ ἀκοινώνητος ὢν ἐξουσίας τοῦ συνδικάζειν ἡγεῖται τὸ παράπαν τῆς πόλεως οὐ μέτοχος εἶναι. See Dem. Against Boeotus 1 (39) 35: τί τούτου σημεῖον; τῶν πατρῴων ἔχεις τὸ μέρος μετὰ τὴν τοῦ πατρὸς τελευτήν ἱερῶν, ὁσίων μετέχεις.

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of δοκιμασία,28 a test not for office this time, but for acknowledgement of this new delicate σωφροσύνη that the deceased possessed. Under this premise, men and women were commemorated as having acquired, through the monument-epigram, their own portion of the fate common to all (cf. CEG 554: σωφροσύνης τε ἀρετῆς τε δικαιο|σύνης τε μετασχὼν / τῆς κοινῆς μοίρας πᾶ|σιν ἔχω τὸ μέρος). Σωφροσύνη and ἀρετή undergo an entire process of privatization and individualization in fourth-century Athens.29 Re-christened in the growing social and family concerns of a society in transition, these traditional values shift to a more personalized attitude towards life, the necessary intermediate step before the advent of the Hellenistic period. (b) ἀσκεῖν ἀρετήν/σωφροσύνην The verb ἀσκῶ is used in reference to both workmanship and an athletic context. According to LSJ, the verb means ‘to work raw materials’, ‘to work curiously, to form by art’, ‘to dress out, to deck oneself’ but also ‘to practice, to exercise, to train’.30 The metaphorical use of ἀσκῶ with abstract nouns such as ἀληθείη and δικαιοσύνη is as old as Herodotus (1.96: καὶ προθυμότερον δικαιοσύνην ἐπιθέμενος ἤσκεε; 7.209: ἐμοὶ γὰρ τὴν ἀληθείην ἀσκέειν ἀντία σεῦ, ὦ βασιλεῦ, ἀγὼν μέγιστός ἐστι). Such figurative uses are also found in tragedy31 and Plato.32 Moreover, this metaphor is attested in grave epigrams from areas outside Attica, such as Thessaly,33 Miletus34 and Samos.35 _____________ 28

29

30 31

32

33 34

35

See Bleicken (19942) 273 ff; Lys. In Defence of Mantitheus (16) 9: ἐν δὲ ταῖς δοκιμασίαις δίκαιον εἶναι παντὸς τοῦ βίου λόγον διδόναι. I owe these references to Meyer (2005) 94 n. 252. This tendency is observed only in Attic epigrams, since there are seven examples from fourth-century Athens (out of 209 epigrams) and only two from the rest of the Hellenophone world (out of 230 epigrams). See LSJ s.v. [Aesch]. PV 1066: κακότητα; Soph. Trach. 384: κακά, OC 913: δίκαια; Eur. Ba. 476: ἀσέβειαν, fr. 853.1 fabulae incertae (TrGF 5.2 [Kannicht]): τρεῖς εἰσιν ἀρεταὶ τὰς χρεών σ᾽ ἀσκεῖν, τέκνον. ἀσκεῖν σωφροσύνην: Amat. 138a10; Grg. 507d1; ἀσκεῖν ἀρετήν: Euthd. 283a4, 285d1; Grg. 527d2, 527d3, 527e4; Men. 70a2; Menex. 246e1; Resp. 407a8, 407c3, 551a4. CEG 639 [Thessaly]: ἀσκήσας ἀρετὴν ἠδὲ δικαιοσύνην. CEG 686.5-6 [Miletus]: ἦ γὰρ δαίδαλά τε ἔργα χεροῖν καὶ σώφρονα κόσμον | / ἤσκησας, μῶμος δ’ οὔτις ἐπῆν ἐπὶ σοί. CEG 683 [Samos]: εἰ τὸ δικαιοσύνην ἀσκεῖν πρὸ ἅπαντα κράτι[στον].

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The above evidence shows that we are clearly dealing with a preexisting topic, which now becomes starkly evident. In fourth-century prose and comedy the verb is basically employed in a non-literal manner for ‘practicing either a techne’ or ‘for exercising one’s body’. Both uses, which build on previous literary developments, share a common denominator. A verb applied either to the delicate fashioning of something or to the exercising of this artful skill as a profession is now regularly used in respect of abstract entities.36 This transferring of concrete verbal meaning to abstract perceptions results or at least reflects a process of conceptual concretization. Likewise, ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη begin to be seen as something solidified, something that needs to be fashioned by the individual during his lifetime, something that allows one to adorn himself, to give himself κόσμος (ἀσκῷ τινα κόσμῳ), an idea occasionally implied in the context of grave epigrams. This particularization of ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη is further grounded on the fact that it is one’s actions (ἔργα), which externalize and therefore express his social and state contribution. In Isocrates’ Evagoras (9), Evagoras’ ἀρετή is measured in terms of his being ἀνὴρ ἀγαθός both towards his household and friends (32: ... καὶ τούς τ’ ἐχθροὺς ἐτιμωρήσατο καὶ τοῖς φίλοις ἐβοήθησεν, ἔτι δὲ τῷ γένει τὰς τιμὰς τὰς πατρίους ἐκομίσατο...) and towards the state (47-50: ... καὶ πρὸς τούτοις καὶ χώραν πολλὴν προσεκτήσατο καὶ τείχη προσπεριεβάλετο καὶ τριήρεις ἐναυπηγήσατο καὶ ταῖς ἄλλαις κατασκευαῖς οὕτως ηὔξησε τὴν πόλιν ὥστε μηδεμιᾶς τῶν Ἑλληνίδων ἀπολελεῖφθαι ...).37 The same mode of thought is observed in Isocrates’ Antidosis (15) 99: εἰ μέν τινες τῶν ἐμοὶ συγγεγενημένων ἄνδρες ἀγαθοὶ γεγόνασι περὶ τὴν πόλιν καὶ τοὺς φίλους καὶ τὸν ἴδιον οἶκον. In like manner, behavior in the oikos becomes an index of behavior in the polis and public miscreants depend or presuppose private wrongdoings.38 On the contrary, recognition of one’s value is based on the practice of σωφροσύνη (CEG 531): (i)

Xαιρίων |

Nάκιον : Ἡγησίο : Aἰξω. | Eὐξιθέα |

_____________ 36

37 38

Breuer (1995) 47 rightly notes that abstract concepts are more often found in Attica than in other places. In particular, abstract concepts are attested in every single fourth-century Attic epitaph and in one of every three non-Attic epigrams respectively. The most often found concepts are: praise/civic honor/recognition 15, arete 15, sophrosyne 9, dikaiosyne 8, honor in war 6. In other places of the Greek world the numbers are as follows: arete 14, praise/civic honor/recognition 4, war 4, perfection 4 (but no sophrosyne). See Alexiou (2005) 117. Strauss (1993) 53.

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Chapter 3 Mικυλίωνος: Aἰξω. | Xαιρίωνος γυνή. | Xαιρίωνος θυγ. (ii) ἐννέα ἐτῶν ἐβίων δεκάδας, θνείσκω δὲ γεραιός, | σωφροσύνην δὲ ἤσκησα, ἔλιπον δὲ εὔκλειαν ἀμεμφῆ. (i)

Chairion. Nakion, daughter of Hegesias from Aixone. Euxithea. Son of Mikylion, from Aixone. Chairion’s wife. Chairion’s daughter. (ii) I lived for ninety years, I am dying as an old man, I practiced sophrosyne, I left blameless renown.

Although Chairion’s longevity is seen through the perspective of venerable respect that old age is traditionally imbued with, it is the practice of sophrosyne and the consequent blameless renown that contribute decisively to the deceased’s authority. The way the epigram is structured shows that the asyndetic juxtaposition of the four verbal phrases, equally distributed between the first and the second verse, is build upon the concepts of a long life (verse 1) and of σωφροσύνη and εὔκλεια (verse 2). In both cases the second part of each verse (after the penthemimeral caesura) refers to the fame or praise the deceased acquired because of a quality indicated in the first part of each verse.39 In other words, since Chairion was a man who lived a long life of ninety years, it is all too reasonable that he has left blameless renown (to himself and his beloved ones) because of his practicing σωφροσύνη. Seen from this angle, the practice of σωφροσύνη is presented as the practice of a skill or art that results in the legitimate acquisition of wealth, property or fame. The concretization of σωφροσύνη inevitably leads to the concretization of its components, which are also expressed in fourth-century Athenian forensic terms. Avoiding indictment in court, hence being blameless, is tuned to the new, balanced way of living that only σωφροσύνη can confer on an individual. Ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη are also used as alternatives and can, needless to say, be applied to women as well (CEG 542): (i) Πεισικράτεια Eὐφρονίου | [Λ]αμπτρείως. Eὐφρόνιος. (ii) Πεισικράτεια ἥδ’ ἐστὶ Eὐφρονίο θυγά|τηρ, ἧς ψυχὴν μὲν ἔχει τὸ χρεών γ’, ἣ | [τ]οῖς δὲ τέκνοισι τὴν ἀρετὴν ἀσκεῖν | σωφροσύνην τε ἔλιπεν. (iii) Ἀριστόδικος. (i)

Peisikrateia, daughter of Euphronios, son of Lamptreus. Euphronios. This is Peisikrateia, Euphronios’ daughter, whose soul fate holds. She left to her children

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The adjective γεραιός (verse 1) means both old and venerable.

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arete and sophrosyne to practice. (iii) Aristodikos.

Fate presented as dire necessity holds the soul of Peisikrateia, who has left to her children ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη to practice. The addition of ἀσκεῖν, which functions as an infinitive of purpose (rather than result), is noteworthy, for the emphasis is transferred from the abstract concepts of ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη to their practical performance and application to life. The deceased has not simply bestowed ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη on her children but she has also betrothed to them the practice and exercise of these cardinal virtues, as if she has taught them the way to practice a skill or to carry out a task. Concrete concepts occasionally replace their equivalent abstract ones that take the form of adjectives modifying the word βίος (CEG 543.5-6): εὐσεβῆ ἀσκήσασα βίον | καὶ σώφρονα θνήισκω ἡνίκα | μοι βιότου μόρσιμον ἦλθε τέλος. After having practiced a pious and moderate life, I die, when the fated end of my living has come upon me.

The dire nessecity of death and the fated end of life are typical features of lament poetry of all ages and cultures. Being very frequently used in Greek tradition as well, they are hereby balanced by the idea of an honorable and well-lived life span. Interestingly enough, εὐσέβεια (piety) and σωφροσύνη (moderation), which also constitute cardinal virtues, are hereby expressed as ‘modifiers’ of βίος (life). Τhis point is further clarified by the phrase βιότου μόρσιμον ἦλθε τέλος in the next line. The semantic nuances of βίοτος (whose first meaning is ‘means of life’) colors the preceding verse as well. The emphasis is not on ‘life span’ but on the process and means, the daily reality of life. The deceased is commemorated for practicing not just ‘piety’ but for living a life whose material reality is based on the performance of one’s religious duties. It is not the abstract concepts of εὐσέβεια (piety) and σωφροσύνη (moderation) that are mentioned but their practical, concrete application in everyday life.40 Every now and then ἀρετή and/or σωφροσύνη are accompanied by κόσμος (order), as in CEG 548: (i)

Δημήτριο[ς] | Θεοδότης.

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On εὐσέβεια (piety), see Dover (1974) 246-254.

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Chapter 3 (ii) ψυχὴ μὲν προλιποῦσα τὸ σόν, [Δημήτριε, σῶμα] | οἴχεται εἰς Ἔρεβος, σωφροσύν[η δὲ ?καλὴ] | θάλλει ἀγήρατος· τύμβωι δέ σε̣ [κρύψε θανόντα] | Ἔρξις, ἴσον στέρξας οἷσι τέκ[νοισ(ιν) (Ô) Ô Ó ]. (iii) ἄφθονον εὐλογίας πηγήν, Δημ[ήτριε, λείπεις] | ἀσκήσας κόσμον σωφροσύνη[ν τε ?καλήν]· | ὧν σε χάριν στέρξας Ἔρξις τέκ[νοισ(ιν) (Ô) Ô Ó Ó] | μνημεῖον φιλίας τεῦξε τάφ[ον Ô Ô Ó].

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(i) Demetrios, son of Theodote. (ii) The soul, after leaving your body, Demetrios, heads towards Erebos, but good sophrosyne thrives without aging; Erxis concealed you after your death in a mound, having loved you equally to his own children. (iii) Demetrios, you are leaving behind an abundant spring of praise, having practiced order and [?good] sophrosyne; for the sake of which Erxis, who loved you […] with his own children, has erected a grave as a record of friendship.

Demetrios was, according to Hansen’s insightful suggestions,41 an adopted son of Erxis. Theodote was either Erxis’ sister or first-cousin or sister of his wife. In all probability Demetrios was an illegitimate son. This carefully described family tree becomes all the more important, when one considers the explanation offered in the second part of the inscription in respect of Erxis’ equal love towards both his own children and Demetrios. The explanation (ὧν ... χάριν) for this kind of behavior is that Demetrios practiced κόσμος and σωφροσύνη and left behind an abundant ‘fountain’ of praise. Κόσμος has here the meaning of τάξις, order or arrangement concerning the soul. Since σωφροσύνη is the κόσμος and τάξις of the soul, it may be argued that Demetrios’ life was arranged according to his new family, that of Erxis.42 In return, Erxis loved Demetrios like his own children and erected a grave monument for him in remembrance of their friendship (φιλία). The orderly arrangement (κόσμος) of Erxis’ family and household43 is thus mirrored in the adoption of Demetrios, a σώφρων man who be_____________ 41 42

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See Hansen CEG 548 (p. 52). See North (1966) 162-165, who discusses this notion of κόσμος in Plato’s Gorgias and rightly argues that the use of sophrosyne is literal and very specific. See especially 164-165, where the attack on πολυπραγμοσύνη in the Gorgias is extended to the post-mortem life of the soul. Whence, the statement in CEG 548.3-4 that σωφροσύνη thrives without aging (θάλλει ἀγήρατος). Cf. Pl. Grg. 504a8-9: τάξεως ἄρα καὶ κόσμου τυχοῦσα οἰκία χρηστὴ ἂν εἴη, ἀταξίας δὲ μοχθηρά; (“Is it not the case that a house imbued with order and being well arranged would be a good one, whereas a house being in a state of disorder [would be] a wretched one?”)

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queathed everlasting praise to his new house. Read against this background, the situation in the family of Demetrios reflects a privatized notion of κόσμος and σωφροσύνη, which orient these virtues towards the exigencies of social and family life. The use of the verb ἀσκῶ 44 with respect to abstract concepts like order, proper arrangement and sophrosyne reflects Platonic beliefs, according to which the world in its every single aspect (bodily health and health of the soul, proper administration of the state, the household, the entire physical universe) is held together by order.45 In the words of North “... it is the principle of order that holds together (συνέχει) heaven and earth, gods and men: community (koinônia), friendship (philia), orderliness (kosmiotês), sophrosyne, and justice46 are all names for the same force.” 47 In the Gorgias,48 Socrates argues that geometrical equality and harmony (ἡ ἰσότης ἡ γεωμετρική) are very powerful (μέγα δύναται) both among gods and men (καὶ ἐν θεοῖς καὶ ἐν ἀνθρώποις). This form of ἰσότης, which is typical of orderliness (κοσμιότης), may be related to the kind of equal treatment Erxis has shown towards both his children and Demetrios. Pythagorean influence49 on Plato’s political thinking in the Gorgias may well lie beneath the infusion of these ideas in a fourthcentury Attic epitaph,50 the more so since the practice of order and sophrosyne is intricately linked to the idea of symmetry and order that should prevail both in the macrocosm and microcosm.51 _____________ 44

45 46

47 48 49 50

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The analogy with the craftsman (Grg. 504a) shows that the practice of kosmos and sophrosyne is based on a metaphor from daily life, since it means to give order and taxis to the soul as the worker puts in order his material according to a pattern (North 1966, 162). Pl. Grg. 504a-505c. Next to ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη, justice (δικαιοσύνη/τὸ δίκαιον) is also mentioned together with the verb ἀσκῶ in CEG 553. The pursuit and practice of sophrosyne and justice is frequently attested in fourth-century literature (Xenophon, Plato, the orators). See e.g. Xen. Memorabilia 1.2.23: πάντα μὲν οὖν ἔμοιγε δοκεῖ τὰ καλὰ καὶ τἀγαθὰ ἀσκητὰ εἶναι, οὐχ ἥκιστα δὲ σωφροσύνη. North (1966) 162. Pl. Grg. 508a. See Morrison (1958) 201-202; North (1966) 164 n. 28. See also Pl. Menex. 236d7: λόγῳ δὲ δὴ τὸν λειπόμενον κόσμον ὅ τε νόμος προστάττει ἀποδοῦναι τοῖς ἀνδράσιν καὶ χρή, and 236e2: ἔργων γὰρ εὖ πραχθέντων λόγῳ καλῶς ῥηθέντι μνήμη καὶ κόσμος τοῖς πράξασι γίγνεται παρὰ τῶν ἀκουσάντων. See Rademaker (2005) 314-315, who rightly calls attention to the association of both τάξις (503e6) and κόσμος (504a7) with σωφροσύνη in the Gorgias. Interestingly enough, Socrates uses the example of both craftsmen whose “products acquire a certain ‘order and structure’ (504a7 τάξεως καὶ κόσμου)” and “doctors who produce τάξις and κόσμος in the body, i.e. health ad

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Sometimes the practice of sophrosyne accompanied by other virtues is expressed together with the verb χρή (CEG 560 = ΣΕΜΑ 1543, CEG 585 = ΣΕΜΑ 2609): (i) <Ἀ>ντιφῶν Eὐφ<ά>νος. (ii) [ἀσκ]ή̣σ αντα ὅσα χρὴ θνητο̃ φύσει ἀ̣ν[δρ]ὸς ἐνεῖνα[ι], | [σωφρ]οσύνην, σοφίαν, γῆς με ἐ[κάλυψ]ε τάφος. (i) Antiphon, son of Euphanes. (ii) Having practiced those things which must belong by nature to a mortal man, i.e. sophrosyne and wisdom, a mound of earth covered me. (i) [Nomen defuncti]. (ii) σωφροσύνην ἤσκον ἀρετήν τε ὡς χρὴ νέον ἄνδρα, | καὶ ζῶν ἠινούμην καὶ ἐπεὶ βιότου τέλος ἔσχον, | ὥστε θανὼν ἔλιπον λύπας προγόνοισι φίλοις τε· | οὐ γὰρ ἔτ’ ἔστιν ἰδε̃ν σῶμα γονεῦσιν ἐμόν. (i) [Name of the deceased]. (ii) I practiced sophrosyne and arete, as a young man ought to do, and I was being praised both during my lifetime and after I came to the end of my life, so that after my death I left grief to my ancestors and friends. For it is not possible any more for my parents to see my body.

The use of χρὴ indicates that sophrosyne together with arete and wisdom (σοφία) are considered either innate virtues of human nature (CEG 560) or that their practice forms an indispensable part of a young man’s code of life (CEG 585). These examples show that the practice of sophrosyne, arete and their cognates represents a task that men ought to perform. One may not be inclined to press this expression too much, but at least it must be highlighted that these virtues are presented as some kind of task that needs to be accomplished. Moreover, the second of the above inscriptions (CEG 585) clearly states that the practice of σωφροσύνη and ἀρετή is what is expected from a young man and that the fulfillment of this obligation gained him praise (ἠινούμην). In the late 4th century, the famous Athenian orator and financial magistrate Lycurgus proposed and had subsequently ratified and approved a program of political and civic changes, an indispensa_____________ strength (504b7-9).” In this light, it suffices to recall that the verb ἀσκεῖν is particularly appropriate for describing the work of these professionals. See also CEG 686.5-6: ἦ γὰρ δαίδαλά τε ἔργα χεροῖν καὶ σώφρονα κόσμον | / ἤσκησας, μῶμος δ᾽ οὔτις ἐπῆν ἐπὶ σοί.

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ble part of which was the ephebeia. To military training (the ephebes had to guard the borders of the city) Lycurgus’ measures added civic education.52 Key officials, the σωφρονισταί and the κοσμητής, supervised the implementation of both military and civic components of this reformed ephebeia.53 Although these reforms were not implemented before 335-334 BCE, they overtly exhibit intense Athenian preoccupation with virtues such as moderation, discipline and orderliness. This time, the Lycurgean reforms aimed at promoting these virtues within a state-sponsored framework. If the dating of CEG 585 is correct (ci. 350?), then we can see that, although this epitaph covertly speaks for the importance of the practice of σωφροσύνη and ἀρετή within the private sphere,54 the ‘privatized’ character of these cardinal virtues starts again to acquire a public perspective.55 Under such a reading, the fact that the deceased’s hidden presence cannot be marked (since his tomb is a cenotaph) must be interpreted within the social parameters delineated by the emphatic incipit of verse 1.56 The physical aspect of the metaphor inherent in the expression σωφροσύνην ἤσκον ἀρετήν τε is nicely picked up by the physical absence of the deceased’s body which the self-referentiality of the former attempts to compensate. The pain caused because of death is thus measured in terms of a domestic disruption translated into the social vernacular of fourth-century Athens. (c) αὐξάνειν ἀρετήν/σωφροσύνην In fourth-century Attica and elsewhere σωφροσύνη and ἀρετή begin to appear in expressions with the verb αὐξάνω, which, generally

_____________ 52 53 54 55

56

See Ober (2005) 154-155. Arist. Ath. Pol. 42.2. See North (1966) 254-255. On σωφροσύνη and democracy, see Allen (2000). On the ephêbeia, the standard works are Pélékidis (1962) and Marcellus (1994) 123-169. If Peek’s restoration is correct, there is one more example of ἀσκέω with an abstract noun (CEG 578.8: ὧν σὺ λαβὼ[ν ἤσκεις τερψιχ]όρους̣ σοφ̣ία̣ς). I have decided to refrain from discussing this example because the entire inscription contains so many restorations, that any interpretation runs the risk of being highly speculative. On the other hand, one could plausibly maintain that the use of ἀσκέω + σοφία (cf. CEG 797: τερψίχορος σοφία) is consonant with the tendency to ‘privatize’ abstract concepts. In CEG 578, Theodorus’ wisdom is defined in terms of his poetic skill. See Bruss (2005) 91.

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speaking, is rather used with concrete nouns. CEG 599 = ΣΕΜΑ 2064 is the only example of this use from Attica:57 ἥδε χθὼ̣ν ἐ̣κ̣άλυψε Kλεὼ τὴν σώφρονα πάντα | δύσμορον ἡλικίας· ὀλοφύρεται ἥ σε τεκοῦσα, | σούς τε κασιγνήτους λ<υ>ποῦσα ἔθανες, <δ>ή<μ>ου φῶς, | σὴν αὔξουσ’ ἀρετὴν καὶ σωφροσύνην ἐρατεινήν. This soil covered Kleo, who was chaste in every respect, but ill-fated regarding her age. The one who gave birth to you is grieving. Your death brought pain to your brothers, oh light of the demos, but increased your virtue and your lovely sophrosyne.

In the previous chapter I examined the use of the expression ‘light of the demos’. This is a truly remarkable coin pointing at the combination of civic and family-oriented virtues. The grief sophron Kleo has caused to her dear ones is balanced by the expression <δ>ή<μ>ου φῶς, which is subsequently explained by the reference to arete and sophrosyne. Kleo’s moderation in every aspect of her life (σώφρονα πάντα) shows that her sophrosyne stretched from family and personal issues to public ones. This being the case, the idea of ‘increasing one’s sophrosyne’ should be interpreted as representing a delicate balance between the private and the public spheres of life. Arete and sophrosyne can be now increased just as one can increase his oikos or his fortune.58 (d) μνημεῖον ἀρετῆς/σωφροσύνης In fourth-century Attica, ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη are regularly attested in the formula μνημεῖον ἀρετῆς/σωφροσύνης, not μνῆμα ἀρετῆς/σω_____________ 57

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Aὐξάνω/αὔξω is used with the following attributes: ἔπαινος (CEG 509), ἀρετὴν καὶ σωφροσύνην (CEG 599), ἀρετάν (CEG 648), τιμήν? (CEG 708), σε (CEG 726), τόνδε (CEG 778), πατρίδα … ἀρετάς (CEG 794), ἀρετάς (CEG 795.22), πόλιν (CEG 846), Ἡρακλέα (CEG 879). I have not referred to CEG 743, because the reading is uncertain. From the 8th to the 5th century, there are only two attestations of αὐξάνω in metrical inscriptions: with ὃν (CEG 397) and with γενεήν and βίοτον (CEG 414). In both of these cases, the attributes of αὐξάνω are concrete nouns. For the typical fourth-century use of αὔξω/αὐξάνω, cf. e.g. Xen. Oec. 7.14-16: ἐμὸν δ’ ἔφησεν ἡ μήτηρ ἔργον εἶναι σωφρονεῖν. … ἀλλὰ σωφρόνων τοί ἐστι καὶ ἀνδρὸς καὶ γυναικὸς οὕτω ποιεῖν, ὅπως τά τε ὄντα ὡς βέλτιστα ἕξει καὶ ἄλλα ὅτι πλεῖστα ἐκ τοῦ καλοῦ τε καὶ δικαίου προσγενήσεται. καὶ τί δή, ἔφη, ὁρᾷς, ἡ γυνή, ὅ τι ἂν ἐγὼ ποιοῦσα συναύξοιμι τὸν οἶκον;

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φροσύνης. The semantic difference between μνημεῖον and μνῆμα is anything but trivial, the more so since it is applicable to the interpretation of the meaning of ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη in fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs. The use only of μνημεῖον and not μνῆμα for ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη is a covert indication of the new function of these virtues. The μνῆμα in the archaic and early (fifth-century) classical period expressed the passage from the σῆμα (mound) to the memorial safeguarding the survival of the deceased’s memory.59 What was implicitly indicated in the σῆμα became explicitly stated in the μνῆμα. Whereas the σῆμα guaranteed a presence among the living and made the survival of the departed’s memory a by-product, the μνῆμα had as its sole purpose the preservation of the deceased’s memory by turning the mound into a monument, by making the man-made artifact the vehicle for remembrance. This is not to say that the monument is not seen any more as a sign of the deceased. CEG 139 is a striking example of the coexistence of σῆμα and μνῆμα terminology in the same metrical inscription: Πραξιτέλει τόδε μνᾶμα Fίσον ποίFεσε θανό[ντι], [τ]οῦτο δ’ ἑταῖροι | σᾶμα χέαν βαρέα στενάχοντες Fέργον ἀντ’ ἀγ[α]θο̃ν κἐπάμερον | ἐξετέλεσα[ν]. Vison made this memorial for Praxiteles who died, and his companions heaped up this mound, with heavy groaning, for his noble deeds. And they finished it in one day.60

The mound (σῆμα) heaped up by the deceased’s friends “marks Praxiteles’ presence both under its surface and in the world of the living.” 61 At the same time, the survival of the dead man’s memory seems not to be ‘guaranteed’ or ‘satisfactorily effectuated’ through a mound, and curiously enough the genitive Πραξιτέληος is not attested according to regular practice (σᾶμα Πραξιτέληος). Thus, one may plausibly argue that there is “a gradual shift underway from the monument as sign of the deceased to the monument as memorial.” 62 Likewise, both σῆμα and μνῆμα are regularly attested in fourthcentury Attic epitaphs but when memory-preservation becomes particularized, the word μνημεῖον takes over. By the expression ‘particu_____________ 59 60 61 62

Bruss (2005) 30. Bruss (2005) 33. Bruss (2005) 34. Bruss (2005) 34.

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larization of memory-preservation’ I am referring to a growing tendency in the classical period, which is gradually intensified during the 4th century in Athens, of preserving not the deceased’s memory in general but particular features of his past life. The aim is now not to guarantee the remembrance of the deceased but to highlight specific aspects of his personality and make them live again in people’s memory. This shift is based on ‘specializing’ the characteristics upon which the deceased’s excellence was based. In view of this process, the μνῆμα as monument-memorial fails the test of conveying such a particular, monument-independent commemoration of the deceased. Instead, the word μνημεῖον begins to be used, as I will show, in a way that connotes the idea of a ‘record’ of one’s past deeds. In the case of expressions containing the words ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη, the visibility of the monument is still sporadically mentioned, but now the stress is on the literal meaning of μνημεῖον, namely a record of one’s virtues. This can be clearly seen in those epitaphs that do not contain a deictic marker pointing to the memorial itself. The grave epigram can very well refer to the past deeds of the deceased as μνημεῖα of his/her ἀρετή, implying that the epitaph itself is capable of becoming a lasting record of one’s virtuous life in the past. Likewise, ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη become ‘personalized’ virtues pertaining so intimately to the deceased that the inscribed epigram becomes the dead person’s ‘true’ memorial, not as a monumentmemorial but as a record- and remembrance-memorial. Gradually, epitaphic conventions allow for a more particularized interpretation of the idea of commemoration. One can, therefore, appreciate the process of combining two distinct aspects of the semantic field pertaining to the μνῆμα/μνημεῖον: the visibility of the monument commemorating the deceased and the ‘readability’ of the epitaph itself. Commemoration of the deceased is not enough. His ἀρετή and σωφροσύνη must be first recorded in the inscribed epigram, so that they can be remembered everytime a future passer-by would ‘read’ the epitaph. This combination of monument-visibility and epitaphreadability is the first crucial step in a process leading to the autonomy of the epigram and its evolution into a literary genre in the form of book-epigram, which will thrive during the Hellenistic and Imperial periods. A transitional phase can be seen in CEG 96 (late 5th century), where μνῆμα is employed with such cardinal virtues as δικαιοσύνη, σωφροσύνη and ἀρετή. The mention of the deceased’s profession shows that this is the turning point in the transition from the memorial to the creation of a record through the inscription, the μνημεῖον.

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(i) Σωσίνος Γορτύνιος χαλκόπτης. (ii) μνῆμα δικαιοσύνης καὶ σωφροσύνης ἀρετῆς τε | Σωσίνο ἔστησαν παῖδες ἀποφθιμένο. (i) Sosinos from Gortyna, a copper-smelter. (ii) A memorial of justice, sophrosyne and arete was set up by the children of Sosinos, when he perished.

CEG 492 is the only surviving example of a fourth-century Attic epitaph, where μνημεῖον is used in the sense of a monument-memorial and not as an epitaph-record. The repetition of the deceased’s name (which is also inscribed extra metrum) shows that the formula ‘genitive of person + μνημεῖον’ accompanied by the deictic marker τόδ’(ε) intends to underline the preservation of the deceased’s memory through the monument-memorial erected for him in a foreign country. The traditional expression λείπω + ‘dear ones’ or ‘grief, sadness etc.’ has been replaced by the word πατρίδα (fatherland) and an indication of his burial in Athens. (i) Καλλίμαχος. (ii) Καλλιμάχου | μνημεῖον | ἐν ἀνθρώποι|σι τόδ’ ἔσται· | χαίρετε δ’ οἱ π|αριόντες, | ἐ<γ>ὼ δὲ λι|πὼν πατρίδ|α ἐνθάδε κεῖ|μαι δύσμο|ρος, ὀδὲ φίλος γο|νέας ἐπιδών. (i) Kallimachos. (ii) This is the memorial of Kallimachos among men. You passers-by, welcome. Having left my fatherland, I am lying here, a wretched man, not having seen my dear parents.

The address to the passers-by covertly shows that the monumentmemorial has been erected so that the deceased’s presence may be felt among the living. By attributing a negative tone to the ‘positive’ formula παῖδας ἐπιδών or παῖδας παίδων ἐπιδών/ἐπιδοῦσα, which is regularly used to highlight the idea of longevity of the deceased and the happiness he/she has experienced within a family context, the epitaph indulges in a game with the ‘meaning’ of μνημεῖον. Implicitly, the monument indicates that the preservation of the departed’s memory is based on its visibility, the one thing the deceased has been deprived of by his death away from home. Viewed from this vantage point, visibility alludes both to the inability of Kallimachos to see his dear parents (ὀδὲ φίλος γονέας ἐπιδών) and to be seen by them.

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Occasionally, one comes across an epitaph combining the two distinct aspects of the μνῆμα/μνημεῖον semantic field. CEG 474 is a typical case of the monument-record aspect of μνημεῖον:63 πόλλ’ ἀρετῆς μνημεῖα λιπών, ἔργοις δὲ κράτι̣[στος] | κεῖται Ἀθηνοκλῆς ἐνθάδε ἀνὴρ ἀγαθός. Having left many records of his arete and excelling in respect of his work, here lies Athenokles, a virtuous man.

The μνημεῖα of Athenokles’ arete refer to the deceased’s past deeds and the phrase ἔργοις δὲ κράτι̣[στος] functions as an explanatory addition to the ‘many records’ of the dead man’s arete, indicating that it is based on Athenokles’ excellence in his profession or work (ἔργοις). It is, therefore, the inscribed epigram that evokes the μνημεῖα as ‘records’ of Athenokles’ arete, which in turn testify to the survival of his memory. Another example of μνημεῖον as ‘record’ is offered by CEG 493, where the deceased’s arete is presented in the light of the praise she had received:64 (i) Xαιρίππη. (ii) ὅστις ἔπαινος ἄριστος ἐν ἀνθρώποισι γυναικῶν, | Xαιρίππη τούτο πλεῖστον ἔχουσ’ ἔθανεν· | μνημεῖον δὲ ἀρετῆς παισὶν ἐμοῖς ἔλιπ<ο>ν. (i) Chairippe. (ii) Chairippe died after having the greatest share of whatever is the best possible praise for women among humans. I left a record of my arete for my children.

Chairippe is commemorated in terms of the praise she had received during her lifetime. By specifying that the deceased excelled among other women and subsequently acquired due recognition, the epitaph implicitly becomes a ‘record’ of a community-based (ἐν ἀνθρώποισιν) approval. Surprisingly, in the last verse the syntax shifts from third to first person, making Chairippe speak from the grave. The expression μνημεῖον δὲ ἀρετῆς παισὶν ἐμοῖς ἔλιπον plays upon the standard formula λείπω + πένθος, λύπας etc. + dative of person. In this way, the _____________ 63

64

Attica ca. 380-370(?). The two surviving fragments of a marble stele with cymation and anaglyphon represent a bearded traveller with a walking stick on his left shoulder and a ‘petasos’ (a traveller’s hat). Attica, beginning of the 4th century BCE.

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feelings of sorrow are replaced by a record of the deceased’s arete, namely the praise and acclaim she obtained within the community. The μνημεῖον of her arete is therefore the praise she acquired and left as a legacy to her children. The epitaph has become the very ‘record’ of her arete. CEG 495 offers another variation of the same formulation:65 [σ]ῆς δ’ ἀρετῆς καὶ σωφροσύν[η]ς μνημεῖον ἅπασιν | [λείπ]̣ε̣ις οἰκ<τ>ρὰ παθὼν Mοίρας ὕπο, δαίμονος ἐχθροῦ. You are leaving to all men a record of your arete and sophrosyne, after having suffered piteous acts in the hands of Fate, a hateful god.

The epitaph is a ‘record’ for all men (ἅπασιν) of the deceased’s σωφροσύνη and ἀρετή. The standard formula with λείπω is also here at work, but this time instead of some sort of explanation of how and why the dead man has acquired the σωφροσύνη and ἀρετή he is bequeathing to the community, the epitaph offers a glimpse to his piteous death in the hands of Fate. It would have been really interesting to know what exactly is alluded to by the emotionally loaded expression οἰκ<τ>ρὰ παθὼν. If there is some connection between the monument and the epitaph, and the water given to the deceased by the seated youth depicted on the right part of the marble stele points at a nuptial ceremony, then “the piteous sufferings in the hands of Fate”, as the epigram eloquently puts it, would acquire their full semantic potential. Conversely, this is a μνημεῖον of the deceased’s σωφροσύνη and ἀρετή, not of his sufferings in the hands of Fate. Therefore, the survival of the dead man’s memory is solely effectuated by the epitaph itself, which, given the blows inflicted by faith, becomes a ‘record’ of the deceased’s virtues and a vindication of the superior importance of the heritage of memory. These virtues are, surprisingly, independent from his inexorable death. The last two cases to be considered are quite different, especially since the presence of both a deictic marker and a reference to the gravestone’s visibility point to the monument as a vehicle for securing the deceased’s memory in the future (CEG 518 = ΣΕΜΑ 2313): πᾶσι θανεῖν <ε>ἵμαρτα<ι> ὅσοι ζῶσιν, σὺ δὲ πένθος

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Attica, beginning of the 4th century BCE. The surviving parts of the monument consist of two fragments of a marble stele. On the one on the left there is a man standing, on the other on the right there is a seated youth bringing water for bathing or washing (for a marriage?).

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Chapter 3 οἰ|κτρὸν <ἔ>χ<ειν> ἔλιπες, Παυσιμάχη, προγόνοις μητρ<ί> | τ<ε Φ>αινί<π>πηι καὶ πατρὶ Παυσανίαι, σῆ<ς> δ’ ἀρετῆ<ς μ>νη|μ<ε>ῖον ὁρᾶν τό<δ>ε τοῖς παριõσιν σωφροσύνη<ς> τ<ε>.

4

Death is decreed by fate for all those who live; Pausimache, you left piteous mourning to your parents, both to your mother Phainippe and to your father Pausanias, and a monument of your arete for the passers-by to see and of your sophrosyne.

The initial consolatory gnomic statement facilitates the bond between the majority of humans and the individual fate of the deceased. The recurrent expression λείπω + πένθος, λύπας etc. + dative of person is the syntactical scaffolding upon which the entire epitaph is based. The first time, from the beginning stretching down to the end of line 3, the phrase λείπω + πένθος refers to the inner circle of beloved persons related to the deceased. The ‘personalized’ tone is particularly apparent, as the composer of the inscription has managed to include in three verses the names not only of the dead woman (Παυσιμάχη), but also those of her father (Παυσανίας) and mother (Φαινίππη). The second time, in verses 4 and 5, the formula λείπω + πένθος, λύπας etc. + dative of person is changed into λείπω + μνημεῖον ἀρετῆς and σωφροσύνης + τοῖς παριο̃σ ιν. The opposition is striking: the deceased has left different things to different groups of people, private mourning to the intimate relatives66 and an example of virtue to the unrelated passers-by, to the former through her death, to the latter through the monument-memorial erected for her sake. As one moves from death itself to the commemoration of the one who died, sadness gives its place to a ‘memorial of arete’ and the beloved ones are replaced by the anonymous passers-by. Contrary to CEG 493, where the expression μνημεῖον δὲ ἀρετῆς παισὶν ἐμοῖς ἔλιπον designated the deceased’s own children as the recipients of their mother’s arete, CEG 495 and 518 touch on a larger group of people whose collective citation presupposes the existence of a funerary stele and/or an epitaph. The deictic marker (τόδε) coupled with the designation of the erection of the monument (ὁρᾶν τοῖς παριο̃σιν) highlights the fact that this is a man-made artifact whose purpose is to become, for all those who pass by, a memorial of Pausimache’s sophrosyne and arete. Although vision _____________ 66

Marco Fantuzzi (private communication) draws my attention to the possibility that this may be a homage to the Athenian prescriptions on limiting extreme manifestations of grief to the closest kin.

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is a conditio sine qua non for learning about the deceased, the passer-by needs to ‘see and read’ what the epitaph says so as to be informed about Pausimache’s virtue. The funerary stele and the epitaph are effectively combined in order to ‘record’ the dead woman’s everlasting virtues. The fact that the monument is man-made is at times indicated by the use of diction describing its erection (CEG 624):67 πατ̣ρ̣[ὶ Ô Ó Ô˘ca. Ô Ó10-11 Ô˘Ô Ó Ô˘Ô ] | ἠδὲ Φιλ[Ó Ó] [μητρὶ Ô Ó Ô˘Ô Ó]ν ἡλικία̣[ν] | προλιπών· σω[φροσύνη]ς δὲ ἀρετῆς τε π̣ρ̣[όφρ]ων | τόδε τεῦξε πατήρ σοι μνημεῖον θνητοῖς | πᾶσιν ὁρᾶν φανερόν. For my father ... and Phil ... and for my mother having left behind […] age; Your father kindly made for your sake this visible monument of your sophrosyne and arete, so that all mortal men may see it.

The fragmentary condition of the first two verses allows only for minor observations. In all probability, the verb λείπω is employed here not in the sense of ‘leave behind to someone else, bequeath, endow’ but as ‘leave, depart from, abandon’. The datives referring to the deceased’s father and mother are ethical datives expressing the pain and sadness felt by the deceased’s beloved ones. In this epitaph the erector or person who commissioned the monument’s erection is plainly stated, following a tradition dating from the archaic period.68 On the other hand, unlike archaic inscribed epigrams, the erector remains nameless.69 The emphasis in this epitaph is grounded both on the overt declaration of the identity of the monument’s commissioner (τεῦξε πατήρ) and on the assertion of his feelings (πρόφρων). 70 Whereas the statement about the commissioner is overtly expressed, the one referring to the monument is rather covert. The feelings of sorrow a parent would normally feel for the loss of his child have been ‘translated’ into the specialized language of the funerary com_____________ 67 68 69 70

Attica, 4th-3rd century BCE, marble base. See Bruss (2005) 40. Since the first two verses are fragmentary, one cannot strongly argue for a nameless commissioner (the deceased’s father). The use of πρόφρων is a regular feature in Greek lament tradition of later periods. Grave epigrams indicate at times how the commissioner of the erection of the monument and the composer of the epitaph carried out their duties.

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memoration. The love and kindness of the deceased’s father have been transferred to his undertaking gladly (πρόφρων) the full cost of the erection of the monument. The erection of a ‘visible monumentmemorial of the deceased’s sophrosyne and arete, so that all mortal men may be able to see it’ underlines the fact that the aforementioned virtues the dead man possessed have been ‘recorded’ on stone, the visible (and readable) testimony of one’s noble character. These virtues are now ‘available’ to the infinite community of mortals (due to the commissioning of the monument and epitaph by the dead person’s father) and will continue to live on among them. In this sense, the erection of the monument and the designation of the commissioner effectively balance inherent tensions between the privatization of the funerary stele (made by a family member) and its public display. (e) κλέος + σωφροσύνη Kλέος is used only once with σωφροσύνη in fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs. Derivatives of κλέος and some other forms of praise are more common but, since they never occur with σωφροσύνη and ἀρετή, they will be examined separately. The use of a term (κλέος) heavy loaded with archaic overtones together with such a fourthcentury colored term as σωφροσύνη, culminates in a new synthesis (CEG 486):71 [ἥ]δ’ ἔθανεν προλιπο̃σα πόσιν καὶ μητ[έρα κεδνὴν] | [κ]αὶ κλέος ἀθάνατον σωφροσύνης [μεγάλης]. | Ἀριστοκράτεια Kορινθία. vvv(v) Θεόφ[ιλος]. This woman died after leaving behind her husband and her noble mother and the immortal glory of her great sophrosyne. Aristokrateia from Corinth. vvv(v) Theophilos.

The use of the phrase κλέος ἀθάνατον immediately gives an archaic color72 to the epigram, since κλέος ἀθάνατον or κλέος ἄφθιτον is regularly employed in Archaic Epic.73 Homer and lyric poetry offer plenty of examples, the majority of which express either the idea of _____________ 71 72 73

Attica, beginning of the 4th century BCE. On the ‘perpetual memory’ of the deceased, see Lattimore (1942) 243-244. The expression μητ[έρα κεδνὴν] also has epic overtones (cf. Od. 10.8; Hes. Th. 169; Works and Days 130; fr. 26.17 [Merkelbach and West]; Homeric Hymn to Demeter (2) 35). I owe these references to Hansen (CEG 486 ad loc.)

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‘attaining/loosing κλέος’ or that of ‘expressing and/or listening to κλέος’. Conversely, κλέος is used only twice with the verb λείπω 74 in Greek epic and lyric poetry of the archaic and early classical periods:75 ... λείπεται ἀθάνατον κλέος εὖ ἐρχθέντο̣ς ἀσφαλεῖ σὺν αἴσᾱι (Bacch. 13.64-66)̣ Σπάρτας βασιλεύς, ἀρετᾶς μέγαν λελοιπὼς κόσμον ἀέναόν τε κλέος (Sim. 531.8-9)

These two examples show that the composer of the epitaph for Aristokrateia exploited the full semantic range of the verb λείπω by effectively combining its two distinct meanings, i.e. ‘to leave, to abandon’ and ‘to bequeath, to pass over to’. By making the most of these two denotations, the anonymous author managed to strike a balance between the negative pitch of the first verse (where the meaning of ‘abandoning’ is used) and the positive aspect of the second (where the meaning of ‘bequeathing’ is employed). The symmetrical distribution and analogical division of verses and meanings, built on epic and lyric diction, invites the reader of the epitaph to meditate on the fate of the deceased. Aristokrateia’s figurative departure from the world of the living resulted on the one hand in her ‘leaving behind’ her beloved parents, and on the other in bequeathing the immortal fame of her sophrosyne. Aristokrateia’s balanced and self-restrained life is so appropriately reflected in the symmetrical arrangement of her own epitaph that it amounts to a truly riveting poetic composition. _____________ 74

75

The only other case, in fourth-century inscribed epigrams, where κλέος is governed by λείπω is CEG 888.12-13. Cf. CEG 593.8-9: λέλοιπας / πένθος ἀείμνηστον. Here follows a list of other verbs employed with κλέος in Greek epic and lyric poetry. Epic: ἄγω (Od. 5.311), ἀκούω (Il. 2.486), ἄρνυμαι (Il. 6.446), γίγνομαι (Il. 5.3), δίδωμι (Od. 3.380), εἶναι (Il. 17.131), ἔχω (Od. 1.95), ἱκάνω (Od. 8.74) / ἵκω (Il. 8.192), μετέρχομαι (Il. 13.364, Od. 3.83), οἶδα (Il. 2.486), ὄλλυμι (Il. 2.325), ὄρνυμι (Il. 15.564), πεύθω/πυνθάνομαι (Il. 11.21), φέρω/φορέω (Od. 2.217, 19.333). Lyric: ἀίω (Pind. Isthm. 6.25), ἀνθέω (Pind. Pyth. 1.66), ἀπολήγω (Xenoph. 6.3), ἄρνυμαι (Pind. Olymp. 9.101), αὔξω (Pind. Isthm. 7.29), ἀφικνοῦμαι (Xenoph. fr. 6.3), βάλλω (Alcm. fr. 73), γαρύω (Pind. Pyth. 5.72-73), δέρκομαι (Pind. Olymp. 1.93-94), ἔρχομαι (Bacch. 9.40-41), εὑρίσκω (Pind. Pyth. 3.111), καταισχύνω (Sol. fr. 32.3), κραίνομαι (Pind. Pyth. 4.174-175), λάμπω (Pind. Olymp. 1.23), μιαίνω (Sol. 32.3), ὁρμάω (Pind. Olymp. 10.21), πράττω (Pind. Isthm. 5.8), προσάπτω (Pind. Nem. 8.36-37), τελῶ (Bacch. 17.78-80), τίθημι (Timocr. fr. 728.2), τρέφω (Pind. Olymp. 10.95).

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If Theophilos was the person who commissioned the erection of the monument for Aristokrateia, then its composer followed the archaic practice, according to which the erector was regularly named. 76 This tendency of the archaic grave epigram has been rightly interpreted as an effort to memorialize, through the epitaph, the entire funeral. The encomiastic tone inherent in the formula κλέος ἀθάνατον is further built up by the naming of the person who commissioned the erection of the monument.77 The κλέος of Aristokrateia, whose very name is reminiscent of aristocratic encomiastic practice during the archaic period, is significantly heightened through the naming of the commissioner. Viewed from this vantage point, the designation of sophrosyne through archaically colored encomiastic terminology (κλέος ἀθάνατον)78 and by means of the twofold meaning of typical funerary diction (λείπω) results in an enthralling poetic coin. The memorialization of the dead woman is facilitated by the bold fusion of earlier epigrammatic diction and conventions (such as the name of the commissioner) with a fourth-century virtue par excellence, Aristokrateia’s μεγάλη σωφροσύνη.

Praising the Deceased The encomium of the deceased is a typical feature of Greek lament poetry. One new characteristic discernible in fourth-century inscribed epitaphs from Attica is the widening of the horizon of readers. Expressions indicating a larger group of people are often attested and there is a significant effort to employ moral terminology where archaic epigrams used the motif of praise of the monument and of the fame it conveys. Constant recourse to the genre of funeral oration and tragedy is typical of the attempt to address a wider public by fully exploiting conventional communicative behavior and the entire value system complying with social standards. Meyer is right to argue that literary and philosophically oriented terms stem from the attempt to _____________ 76 77 78

Bruss (2005) 40. Bruss (2005) 42. On κλέος ἀθάνατον, see also Pl. Smp. 208c5: καὶ κλέος ἐς τὸν ἀεὶ χρόνον ἀθάνατον καταθέσθαι. This phrase constitutes a hexameter verse whose source remains unknown. See Dover (1980) 152. On the interpretive nuances and function of various terms pertaining to the semantic field of ‘glory, honor’, see Greindl (1938), and for κλέος in particular 104-119. For κλέος in early Greek sepulchral epigrams, see Ecker (1990) 34-40, 189-217.

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present the fate of an individual within a framework of political, social and philosophical beliefs pertaining to the whole of society.79 The process of exposing the individual fate of the deceased to a wider public is grounded on the preservation of a delicate balance between the public and the private spheres of life. From this perspective, the praise attributed to the departed acquires new dimensions, which testify to a noteworthy divergence from archaic practice. In the 4th century the deceased are praised through the use of the terms ἔπαινος and εὐλογία in 14 Attic and 6-7 non-Attic inscribed epitaphs.80 Of the Attic grave epigrams, 19 belong to men and 10 to women. The following tables show the use of the aforementioned praising terms in fourth-century Attic and non-Attic inscribed epitaphs: ΕΠΑΙΝΟΣ Attic i ns crib ed ep itaph s Non-Attic i ns crib ed epit aph s 489, 493, 509, 512, 533.2, 543, 546, 561, 631, 670, 690, 708.1 (4) 581, 593.1 (10) ΕΥΛΟΓΙΑ Attic i ns crib ed ep itaph s 497, 533.2, 548, 593.2 (4)

Non-Attic i ns crib ed epit aph s 692, [708.2], 724 (2-3 )

Age, family, and profession constitute the basic themes for which the deceased are praised. Conversely, since these three categories are not only employed as praise-arguments in fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs but also as general motifs, it is better to examine praise on the basis of the vocabulary and techniques used to promote the encomium of the dead person. I will, therefore, first study the vocabulary of praise and then consider a number of cases dealing with nonpraise oriented uses of age, family and profession. Εὐλογία The word εὐλογία (praise through good or fine language) is attested four times in the extant corpus of fourth-century Attic inscribed epi_____________ 79 80

Meyer (2005) 95. All the data are based on CEG II. I have taken into account only the terms ἔπαινος and εὐλογία, since nearly all funerary epigrams contain some sort of praise for the deceased.

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taphs. These attestations fall into two groups: (a) ἄφθονος εὐλογία(ς) (πηγή) and (b) ἄξιον εὐλογίας. The first group builds on a common metaphor for praise poetry employed as early as the archaic period.81 Pindaric epinician poetry offers the first examples of conceiving speech as a ‘fountain or spring’ of words, a constant flow of epea (Pyth. 4.298-299): καί κε μυθήσαιθ’, ὁποίαν, Ἀρκεσίλα, εὗρε παγὰν ἀμβροσίων ἐπέων, πρόσφατον Θήβαι ξενωθείς. And he would tell, Arkesilas, of what a well-spring of immortal verse he found when of late he was a guest at Thebes.82

The same metaphor is explicitly used CEG in 548.6: ἄφθονον εὐλογίας πηγήν, Δημ[ήτριε, λείπεις] | Demetrios, you are leaving an abundant fountain of praise ...

The expression εὐλογίας πηγήν is consonant with the archaic metaphor of poetry as a kind of special speech which flows. In the aforementioned metaphor from Pindaric epinician poetry (Pyth. 4.298-299: παγὰν ἀμβροσίων ἐπέων) special emphasis is laid on the undying song of the poet, the immortal verses he produces. Accordingly, one can plausibly argue that the sub-metaphor ‘fountain of speech’ connoting the immortality of speech is valid for fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs. In particular, the undying nature of praising speech becomes especially evident by exploring the atttribution of the epithet ἄφθονον to πηγή. Whereas in Pindar the epithet ‘immortal’ (ἀμβρόσια) modifies the noun ‘words’ (ἔπεα), in CEG 548.6 the epithet ‘abundant’ (ἄφθονον) modifies not a word indicating praising speech (εὐλογία) but the word ‘fountain’ (πηγή). The implication is, of course, that this figurative fountain of praising speech is so abundant that it will never stop flowing. In this light, Demetrios’ ‘beautiful’ sophrosyne, which is described as ‘thriving without aging’ (θάλλει ἀγήρατος) in the first part of the epitaph, is repeated and used as an argument for stating that the deceased has left behind him ‘an abundant fountain of _____________ 81

82

See Nünlist (1998) 178-205, who offers a useful survey of the ways archaic Greek poetry has thematised this metaphor. The translation is by Braswell (1988) 52.

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praise’ in the second part of the inscription.83 CEG 593.1-3 makes implicit use of the same metaphor: (i) ὀθεὶς μόχθος ἔπαινον ἐπ’ ἀνδράσι τοῖς ἀγαθοῖσιν | ζητεῖν, ηὕρηται δὲ ἄφθονος εὐλογία· | ἧς σὺ τυχὼν ἔθανες, Διονύσιε, … (i)

It is no trouble to seek commendation for men of excellence. Αbundant praise is found [for them]; Ηaving experienced this, Dionysios, you died, …

Even in this case, where ἔπαινος and εὐλογία are used as mere synonyms, the phraseology reveals a significant functional deviation between them. The epigrammatic incipit is rather abrupt, since expectations seem to be violated. One of the commonplaces of the sub-genre of funeral oration in classical Athens was the incongruity between the heroic and glorious deeds the deceased had performed and the fictive ‘inability’ of the speaker to praise them accordingly. This rhetorical topos is here reversed in the most emphatic way: finding praise (ἔπαινος) for good men is not hard at all, for there is abundant praise (εὐλογία) for them. Since Dionysios has died after having already gained ‘abundant praise in the form of fair speaking’, he is by implication an aner agathos and, therefore, the task of praising him is made much easier and significantly more effective. Under such a reading, this long (for epigrammatic standards) epitaph bearing witness to Dionysios’ ‘abundant praise’ (ἄφθονος εὐλογία) becomes a true encomium of the deceased.84 The second group of epigrams to be examined share the expression ἄξιον εὐλογίας. CEG 497 survives only partly:85 (i) Κα[ØØ]. (ii) ἄξιον εὐλ[ογίας Ô˘Ô Ó Ô˘Ô Ó  Ó Ó] | χθὼν ἀρετ̣[ Ó Ô˘Ô Ó (Ô˘Ô ) Ó Ô˘Ô Ó  Ó (Ó)] | ὅμ ποτε α[Ó Ô˘Ô Ó Ô˘Ô Ó Ô˘Ô Ó  Ó Ó ]|

4

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84

85

See Fantuzzi (2008), who draws attention to the repetition of certain elements of the first part of the epitaph in the second part. He explains this phenomenon by stating that these two epitaphs are not Konkurrenzgedichte but paired metrical inscriptions offering variation on the same theme. I would go even further than Fantuzzi, arguing that sometimes, as in CEG 548 and CEG 593, they function as Fortsetzungs- or Ergänzungs-Epigramme, since they elucidate each other. These are the only two attestations of ἄφθονος in the extant corpus of fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs. From Attica, probably beginning of 4th century.

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The use of the neuter form (ἄξιον) indicates that a general statement might have been expressed in the first verse. The deceased was probably praised for his arete (as it may be assumed from the beginning of the second verse) with the alleged ‘laudatory relative’ (ὅν ποτε)86 as a mark of the distinct encomiastic character permeating the entire epitaph. The expression οὐχ ὁσίω̣[ς introduces a typical motif for sepulchral inscribed epigrams, which may be called the reversal of natural order. When the event of death brings about a disturbance of the natural order of things (as e.g. when a child died earlier than his parents), then it is believed that it occurred ‘in an unholy manner’ (οὐχ ὁσίω̣ς), i.e. against a sacred modal or temporal sequence.87 CEG 533 is one of the most noteworthy attestations of the expression ἄξιον εὐλογίας, the more so since this phrase is employed in the first person, i.e. ἄξιος εὐλογίας. (i) Bελτίστη Nομηνίο | Ἡρακλειῶτις. (ii) μητέρα ἔθηκα | ὁσίως ὁσίαν, τοῖς | πᾶσιν ἰδέσθαι, | ἀνθ’ ὧν εὐλογίας | καὶ ἐπαίνων ἄξιός εἰμι. (i) Beltiste, daughter of Nomenias, from Herakleia. (ii) I buried my pious mother with piety, for all men to see, on account of which I am worthy of fair speaking and praising recognition.

The inscribed extra metrum part placed between the kymation and the two decorative roses (which separate the metrical inscription from the non-metrical part) explicitly states that Beltiste was from Herakleia. Her toponymic (Ἡρακλειῶτις) has been inscribed below her name and her father’s name so as to highlight her origin. To this same end, more space has been left between the letters of the word Ἡρακλειῶτις. Conze88 has argued that in the large space below the epigram there was a picture of Beltiste, which no longer survives. One of the most intriguing features of this epitaph is the identification of the speaking ‘I’. At first glance, it seems that the word ‘mother’ (μητέρα) in relation to the concluding phrase ‘I am worthy’ _____________ 86 87

88

See Day (1989) 18-19 n. 19. See Wilhelm (1950) 27-30 quoting Mendel (BCH 1909, 282 n. 42), who rightly talks about “une simple formule de regrets.” According to the index of CEG, ὅσιος is attested in fourth-century Attic epitaphs only when the term εὐλογία is used (see CEG 533). Conze (1893-1922) 1442.

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(ἄξιός εἰμι) at the end of the epitaph indicate that the speaking ‘I’ is the deceased’s (Beltiste’s) son. Conversely, this interpretation is not immune to serious problems. If the speaking ‘I’ is indeed the son, then why is he not named at all? What is even more puzzling is that there is no other example of an inscribed epitaph from the 8th to the 5th century BCE, where the epigram becomes the encomium of the commissioner instead of a praise of the deceased. Such arrogance would no doubt have been considered a serious insult to the very memory of the dead person. Before reconsidering the epitaph as a whole, it may be wise to examine the non-metrical part preceding it. The genitive Nομηνίο designates the deceased’s father and not her husband. The regular practice, which can be amply seen in numerous inscriptions (especially with deceased women from Herakleia) is to mention first their father’s name and place of origin and only then, if they are married, their husband’s name, his deme of provenance, if he was an Athenian, and the word γυνή, indicating that she was his wife.89 See e.g. IG II2 8609: Γλυκέρα | Σαραπίωνος | Ἡρακλεῶτις, | Ἀλεξάνδρου | Παιανιέως | γυνή and 8628: Διοδώρα Διοδώρου | Ἡρακλεῶτις, | Ἐπικτήτου | Mαρωνίτου γυνή. It can be, therefore, inferred that Beltiste was not married, had no children and is not the mother (μητέρα) designated in the epitaph. If, then, Beltiste is not the mother indicated in the beginning of the epitaph, who is she? Since she is definitely a dead person with whom the epitaph must necessarily have some connection, we can plausibly argue that she is the daughter of the anonymous mother mentioned at the beginning of the epitaph.90 To make a long story short, the situation may be described in the following way: Beltiste, daughter of Nomenias from Herakleia, was a young unmarried girl who died in Athens. Before dying she had experienced the death of her mother, whom she took special care to bury appropriately as a token of her respect to her memory. When Beltiste died, probably not long afterwards, some member of the family (maybe Nomenias, her father) commissioned the erection of the monument, which he accompanied with a two-verse epitaph. In his eyes, the most pious and honorable thing his daughter had done was that she had buried her mother appropriately. Thus, the piety of her mother, Nomenias’ wife, was passed on the daughter. Therefore, Nomenias commissioned the erection of this funerary stele as well as the composition of this epitaph, effectively linking the memory of his beloved daugh_____________ 89

90

For a typology of women-designation patterns used in Attic gravestones, see Vestergaard et al. (1985) 178-190. Cf. Traill (1995) s.v.

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ter to that of his beloved wife. The expression ‘I am worthy’ (ἄξιός εἰμι) at the very end of the epitaph poses a grammatical problem, since we should expect ἀξία. It is certainly true that “scarcely91 any uncompounded adjectives have a feminine in -ος”.92 Of the adjectives in –Cιος only πάτριος has a feminine form in -ιος.93 The situation is very different when one turns to compound adjectives. In this category, a similar ending is regularly attested for the feminine.94 It can, therefore, be maintained that, perhaps under the pressure exercised by the formulaic phrase ἄξιός εἰμι, the –ιος ending was employed despite the use of a feminine subject (Βελτίστη). The two-verse epitaph is symmetrically organized. Beginning and end are balanced by two semantic foci, expressed by a nominal and a verbal form in reverse order: μητέρα ἔθηκα - ἄξιός εἰμι. The epitaph begins with designating the relation between Beltiste and her mother: ‘I have buried my mother’. The first-person verb (ἔθηκα) indicates that the emphasis will be not only on the deceased mother, as is expected in funeral and commemorative practice, but also (and perhaps mainly) on the deceased daughter. The end of the inscription (ἄξιός εἰμι) is surprising in the sense that the first-person form is not expected. On the other hand, this violation of the readers’ expectations has been ‘prepared’ since the beginning of the inscription both by the ὁσίως ὁσίαν juxtaposition and also by the phrase τοῖς πᾶσιν ἰδέσθαι at the end of the first verse. The juxtaposition of two semantically and acoustically related words such as ὁσίως ὁσίαν bespeaks their functional relation. The deceased is characterized by the same term that is employed in reference to the erection of the funerary monument. In other words, mother and daughter, laudanda and laudator are presented within the same scope. In fact, both the ring-order (ABBA) of the first two lines of the stele (μητέρα ἔθηκα | ὁσίως ὁσίαν, τοῖς) and the ‘reservation’ of a single space for ὁσίως ὁσίαν effectively underline the epitaph’s main aim, namely to create an unbreakable bond _____________ 91

92

93 94

See ἑ]μ̣έραι λοιποὶ ῟εσα[ν (IG I 3 365.32). The ‘regular’ feminine ending in -αι is attested in another inscription of the same category (IG I3 368.7): ἑμέρα[ι λ]ο[ι]παὶ ῟εσα[ν. See Threatte (1996) 284. Threatte (1996) 283. Δόκιμος is a notable exception of the abovementioned statement, since it is “the only form of the feminine attested in several naval inventories.” Cf. IG II2 687.15-16 and IG II2 780.15. For more examples, see Threatte (1996) 283. See Threatte (1996) 285. It is true that κατάξιος is one of the few compound adjectives having a feminine form καταξία but this cannot exclude the posssibility that, as is the case with λοιπός, ἄξιος could have been used as the feminine form.

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between the two deceased women. Moreover, the phrase τοῖς πᾶσιν ἰδέσθαι, which constitutes a typical overt statement of the erector’s desire to attract the attention of the passers-by, acquires here a figurative tone, since it alludes to the existence of another monument, which Beltiste had erected for her mother. In this light, the epitaph becomes at the moment of its reading the pathway to the ‘visualization’ of another monument commissioned by the deceased, Beltiste, in honor of another deceased, her anonymous mother. This is, indeed, a remarkable example of what one might call a ‘window of allusion’. In Hellenistic epigram, literary semiosis is so densely organized and profusely exploited that at times a text’s reading is based on the knowledge of a model which itself ‘alludes’ to another, second model.95 Mutatis mutandis, the same technique is used in this case. This epitaph is a figurative ‘window’ not to another text but to another monument, to another ‘speech-event’, perhaps even to another ‘reading’ that the commissioner of the monument (especially if he is the father Nomenias) was well aware of. Seen from this angle, the standard expression τοῖς πᾶσιν ἰδέσθαι is a ‘window’ alluding to the monument Beltiste had erected for her deceased mother. The standardized aim of the epitaph to ‘gain the widest possible audience’, ‘to make the monument visible to all men’96 becomes the bridge crossing over from daughter to mother and back again.97 Having paved the way for the link between the deceased and the commissioner of the monument, the epitaph focuses on the terminology of praise in the second verse. The metrical break created by the penthemimeral caesura after εὐλογίας is also visually enhanced by the split and distribution of the two metrical units into two separate ‘inscriptional’ lines. This aural and visual symmetry would, no doubt, have facilitated and, therefore, strengthened the reader’s focus on εὐλογία and ἔπαινος. The epitaph overtly links the erection of the first monument and (in extension) the possible composition of a grave-epigram dedicated to the mother with the ‘praise’ Beltiste has gained. The pious burial of a pious mother has culminated in the trans_____________ 95 96

97

See Hunter (2004) 103. Hunter’s term is based on the intertextual ʻwindow of referenceʼ that was coined by Thomas (1999) 130-132. For verbal praise as a form of recognition by the community, see Pind. Isthm. 3.1-3: Eἴ τις ἀνδρῶν εὐτυχήσαις ἢ σὺν εὐδόξοις ἀέθλοις / ἢ σθένει πλούτου κατέχει φρασὶν αἰανῆ κόρον, / ἄξιος εὐλογίαις ἀστῶν μεμίχθαι. See Day (1989) 22, who brilliantly connects the placement of Kroisos’ monument (CEG 27) on an elevated position at the edge of a tumulus beside the Athens-Sounion road with the inscribed epitaph’s ‘imperative’ invitation to the wayfarer to ‘stand and show pity’ (στε̃θι : καὶ οἴκτιρον).

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formation of the deceased’s monument into a measure of praise of its commissioner, Beltiste, who is now herself deceased. The emphatic ἀνθ’ ὧν98 at the beginning of the second verse reveals that the purpose of erecting the mother’s monument (and perhaps composing an epitaph too) is to extend the praise of the laudanda to the laudator who has performed her due funeral obligations. What forms does this ‘transferred’ encomium take? The proximity of εὐλογίας and ἐπαίνων (in the plural) shows that we are dealing with two distinct but complementary forms of praise. A careful look at the other pair of juxtaposed terms in the first verse (ὁσίως ὁσίαν) is indicative of the interrelation between the two ‘pairs’ of synonyms. Since the ‘pious’ manner (ὁσίως) by which the daughter has buried her pious mother points to both monument and inscribed epitaph, the second pair of synonyms (εὐλογίας and ἐπαίνων) may very well indicate the two distinct levels of praise the daughter-commissioner is worthy of. These aspects include fair speaking (εὐλογία) and recognition (ἔπαινοι). This being the case, the following lines from Empedocles (B 3.1-2 DK) are revealing: ἀλλὰ θεοὶ τῶν μὲν μανίην ἀποτρέψασκε γλώσσης, ἐκ δ’ ὁσίων στομάτων καθαρὴν ὀχετεύσατε πηγήν But you gods have diverted the madness of these men from my tongue and conducted a clear fountain from my holy mouth.

In this Empedoclean passage the lens zooms on the ‘clear’ fountain of speech pouring out from the speaker’s ‘holy mouth’. The emphasis is not as in Pindar (Pyth. 4.298-299) on the ‘immortality of words’ but on their ‘holiness’. Likewise, the fair speaking element inherent in the use of the term εὐλογία is nothing else but the reading of this very epitaph. Εὐλογία and ἔπαινοι constitute the two axes upon which Beltiste’s praise is based. The ‘piety’ of her mother has been passed on to both the monument and the epitaph: on the former (so that all men can see it: τοῖς πᾶσιν ἰδέσθαι) and on the latter so that all men can read it. Mutatis mutandis, the former would enhance the commissioner’s (Beltiste’s) recognition, whereas the latter will perpetuate her praise by speech. _____________ 98

The ἀνθ’ ὧν formula is regularly used in fifth-century decrees (there is only one attestation in a fourth-century Attic decree) as an argumentative or explanation device for the privileges granted to the citizens honored. See Veligianni-Terzi (2005) 172.

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The first-person verb at the very end of the epitaph is noteworthy. Regular use shows that there is no direct praise of the commissioner of the monument. All other attestations of first-person verbs in the extant corpus of funerary inscribed epigrams from the archaic to the end of the classical period amply show that there is not even a single case where a first-person verb is used for the praise of the commissioner of the monument and/or the composer of the epitaph. Firstperson verbs99 refer either to the grave being conceived as the speaking ‘I’ or to the deceased himself/herself.100 Read against this background, the arcane masculine adjective ἄξιος must be connected to the first-person verb placed at the very end of the epitaph. Given that in this case we are dealing with two deceased women (a mother and her daughter) and two commissioners of different monuments (the daughter and someone else, perhaps her father Nomenias), it may be plausibly suggested that Beltiste is praised in her own epitaph as the commissioner of her mother’s funerary monument and that the praise of Beltiste qua commissioner of the grave for her mother aims at reflecting an implied self-appreciation of Nomenias. Ἔπαινος The word ἔπαινος is attested nine times in fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs. The following list shows all the relevant cases, without citing the entire epitaph. I will first deal with some general observations and then I will contentrate on the interpretive exploration of four significant attestations. 489: τὸς ἀγαθὸς ἔστερξεν Ἄρης, ἐφίλησε δ’ ἔπαινος, | 493: ὅστις ἔπαινος ἄριστος ἐν ἀνθρώποισι γυναικῶν, | Xαιρίππη τούτο πλεῖστον ἔχουσ’ ἔθανεν· | 509: πατρὸς δὲ μνήμαισιν Ὀλυνπίχου αὔξετ’ ἔπαινος, | 512: ὢ τὸν ἀειμνήστου σ’ ἀρετᾶς παρὰ πᾶσι πολίταις | κλεινὸν ἔπαινον ἔχοντ’ ἄνδρα ποθεινότατον | 533: ἀνθ’ ὧν εὐλογίας | καὶ ἐπαίνων ἄξιός εἰμι. 543: πλεῖστομ μὲν καὶ ζῶσα [τ]ρό|πων σῶν ἔσχες ἔπαινον, | 546: πλεῖστον ἐν ἀνθρώποισι γυναικῶν | ἔσχες ἔπαινον 561: τῶν μὲν δοὺς βάσα[νον Ô˘Ô Ó Ô˘Ô Ó  Ó Ó], | Kαλλιμέδων, ἀρε[τ]ῆ̣ς πλεῖστ̣[ο]ν ἔπαινον ἔχεις. |

_____________ 99

100

Even when a first-person verb is employed in reference to the commissioner of the monument, there is no praise. Cf. e.g CEG 74; 99. With εἰμί: CEG 482, 543.10, 572, 592, 663, 671, 675, 712, 795.14, 799, 812.

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In five of these nine attestations, ἔπαινος is used together with evaluative language (ἄριστος, κλεινός, πλεῖστος). Moreover, there is a tendency to specifically designate the group of people among whom praise and recognition has been gained (ἐν ἀνθρώποισιν, παρὰ πᾶσι πολίταις) and the group of people with whom the deceased is compared or belongs to (γυναικῶν, γυναικῶν… πασῶν, ἐπ’ ἀνδράσι τοῖς ἀγαθοῖσιν). The comparison of the deceased with others and the emphasis on his/her excellence is a typical feature of Greek lament tradition and must have been linked to the ritual lament for the dead.101 Viewed from this vantage point, the deceased are praised for having possessed during their lifetime a quality that distinguished them from others belonging to a given group of people. Within the context of the lament, the agonistic element inherent in any form of praise is tuned to the mourner’s perception of the deceased as superior to others. In this way, the lament for the departed reflects the focalization of the mourner or, in the case of inscribed epitaphs, the view that the anonymous composers wanted their future readers to endorse. This time however, the deceased’s excellence is mainly based on new criteria like profession (CEG 509), family (CEG 512, 533, 543, 561), gender (CEG 493, 546), while war-excellence (CEG 489) and the paragon of the ἀνὴρ ἀγαθός (CEG 591) become rather marginalized.102 Praise for the deceased can take various forms according to the qualities of the departed that must be highlighted. The three basic types of social praise, with which I will now deal, concern: (a) professional praise; (b) familyoriented praise; (c) gender-based praise.

_____________ 101 102

This motif is attested as early as Homeric poetry. It consitutes a typical feature of the personal Iliadic laments, the γόοι. See Tsagalis (2004) 36-39. Of these two last attestations, CEG 489 continues the practice of the polyandria, while CEG 591 is a bold reversal of a typical funeral oration motif, namely the inability of the speaker to praise through speech the glorious deeds of the deceased warriors in accordance to their virtue. See Alexiou (2005) 205-206, 219-220. For the function of ἀγαθός (good by virtue) in opposition to χρηστός (good in action), see Tod (1951) 186; Breuer (1995) 46 n. 145 contra Raffeiner (1977) 26 ff.

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(a) Professional ἔπαινος CEG 509 refers to the recognition that the deceased may have obtained among a given group of people, in this case his fellow professionals. (i)

Ἑλλὰς μὲν πρωτεῖα τέχνης αὐλῶν ἀπένειμεν | Θηβαίωι Πο<τ>άμωνι, τάφος δ’ ὅδε δέξατο σῶμα· | πατρὸς δὲ μνήμαισιν Ὀλυνπίχου αὔξετ’ ἔπαινος, | οἷον ἐτέκνωσεμ παῖδα σοφοῖς βάσανον. (ii) Πατρόκλεια Ποτάμωνος γυνή.

4

(i)

Greece awarded the first prize in the art of playing the flute to Potamon the Theban, and this very grave received his body; his praise is increased by the remembrance of his father Olympichοs, such a son did he produce, a touchstone to the wise ones. (ii) Patroκleia, Potamon’s wife.

The word βάσανον103 at the very end of the inscription must be interpreted in the light of negative comments made against the fluteplayers and the Dionysiac technitai in general.104 Aneziri105 points to the fact that according to Aristotle (Poet. 1461b) the flute-players who incorporate many an element of mimesis in their playing, are corrupt and spoilt. The 4th century has basically developed a negative attitude towards the Dionysiac technitai because of the fact that they have started receiving money for their work. The serious changes that have taken place in the theater (changes in the formation of the chorus, transformation of the musical element with the advent of the socalled ‘New Music’, abolition of the choregiai) have significantly changed the entire theater-business. The result was that artists started being payed for their work and, what was more, began to cross the borders of their city-state and look for work in other places. At this point, there existed no organized guilds of professionals, whose tutelage and coverage the individual artist would enjoy. This development was carried out in the Hellenistic period. The absence of organized guilds of professionals at such an early stage and the under_____________ 103

104

105

Cf. Soph. OT 509-510: ... καὶ σοφὸς ὤφθη / βασάνῳ θ’ ἡδύπολις, where βασάνῳ must be “construed with σοφός even more than with ἡδύπολις”, as Dawe (1982) 144 ad v. 510 argues. Cf. Aristot. Prob. 956b: διὰ τί οἱ Διονυσιακοὶ τεχνῖται ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολὺ πονηροί εἰσιν; ἢ ὅτι ἥκιστα λόγου <καὶ> σοφίας κοινωνοῦσι διὰ τὸ περὶ τὰς ἀναγκαίας τέχνας τὸ πολὺ μέρος τοῦ βίου εἶναι, καὶ ὅτι ἐν ἀκρασίαις τὸ πολὺ τοῦ βίου εἰσίν, τὰ δὲ καὶ ἐν ἀπορίαις; ἀμφότερα δὲ φαυλότητος παρασκευαστικά. Aneziri (2003) 263-264.

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playing of the fact that the deceased auletes was buried in Athens, which was not his native city, constitute two parameters of keyimportance for understanding the function of the inscription. In this light and since CEG 509 is dated to the beginning of the 4th century, it is likely that the composer’s emphasis on the professional bond between father and son must be ‘read’ in connection with their being Thebans, i.e. non-Athenians.106 In fact, it is this feature, shared by the two people who are mentioned by name in the epigram, which will shed light on the interpretation of the inscription. Aristotle’s rather negative account of flute-players blends in with general Athenian attitudes towards the aulos and, by extension, the auletai. The mythological substratum of such prejudice can be found in Athena’s rejecting of the aulos as ‘shameful object’ and ‘outrage to her body’. The playing of the double aulos, like the ones Potamon and Olympichos are portrayed holding in their hands, needed a device by the aid of which the mouthpieces of the pipes could be accommodated. This was done by the phorbeia, a set of leather straps encircling the cheeks and going around the player’s head. The aulos (the phorbeia must have emphasized this even more) gave to the Athenians the impression that, through the blocking of the mouth, the individual would lose the power of articulate speech. On the other hand, since the aulos was widely employed in Attica in a variety of public (dramatic performances, trireme-rowing) and private (funerals, sacrifices, symposia) contexts, there was an urgent need of auletai, which was principally filled by foreigners among whom Thebans represented the largest group, given the fame of the aulos in Thebes. There are two special features, which seem to have been associated with fluteplayers: their low social origin and their “identifiable professional self-consiousness.” 107 Thus, Potamon the Theban who died in Athens and was honored by his wife Patrokleia is referred to not as her husband but as an auletes through family tradition. His death at Athens, where the auletai (and maybe the Theban auletai even more) were negatively colored, was partly the reason for his commemoration (by his family) in terms of professional excellence. The epitaph is ‘playing down’ two ‘Athenian’ negative beliefs concerning flute-players: the _____________ 106

107

See Meyer (1993) 111, who interprets the fact that foreigners usually preferred to be commemorated not as xenoi or metics but as still belonging to the polis they came from as an indication that the epitaphs, like the reliefs on the stelae or gravestones, aimed at emphasizing the attachment of the deceased to the family (through their patronymic or, in the case of women, their designation as wives) and to the polis at the same time. Wilson (2002) 49.

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first is based on the Athenian practice according to which no fluteplayer was honored in the Classical period by an official, polis-issued document. The only dedications we possess are choregic.108 The composer of the epitaph exploits this attitude at full length by ironically commenting upon it. Potamon has been awarded the first prize in the art of flute playing by Hellas, not Athens where he is buried.109 He is a Theban by birth and a flute-player through family tradition. His recognition is increased because of his father being an auletes too, a fluteplayer ‘who produced another flute-player, Potamon, as a touchstone for the sophoi’. The use of the word sophos is of prime importance for decoding the second ironic touch the epitaph is aiming at. The term sophos and the abstract noun sophia are the paragonal characteristics of the Athenian deity par excellence, the goddess Athena.110 Since Athena is notoriously linked with the rejection of aulos111 and Potamon is a flute-player after his father Olympichos who had also been a fluteplayer, then the expression τοῖς σοφοῖς βάσανον may well be a covert ironic statement against the Athenians who despised the aulos but needed the auletai for various public and private occasions.112 The _____________ 108 109

110

111

112

Wilson (2002) 47 n. 20. The complete absence of Athens from this inscribed epitaph cannot be just due to the fact that we are dealing with a private funerary epigram. In general, one would expect that only in publicly sponsored monuments, the state would be interested in emphasizing that the burial and monument were made at public expense. This is certainly true but it cannot be used as an argumentum e silentio for the absence of any mention to Athens in cases like CEG 509, especially since the non-Athenian origin of the deceased is emphasized. See Kastriotes (1903) 135 n.2, who observes that the words sophos and sophia are used for any kind of knowledge and especially for the art of flute-playing. He rightly points to Xen. Anab. 1.2.8 (ἐνταῦθα λέγεται Ἀπόλλων ἐκδεῖραι Mαρσύαν νικήσας ἐρίζοντά οἱ περὶ σοφίας, καὶ τὸ δέρμα κρεμάσαι ἐν τῷ ἄντρῳ ὅθεν αἱ πηγαί), where it is said that Apollo, after having defeated Marsyas in a conflict over sophia, which seems to refer to musical competence, skinned his body and hung his skin in a cave. See Melanippides’ Marsyas (PMG 758): ἁ μὲν Ἀθάνα / τὤργαν’ ἔρριψέν θ’ ἱερᾶς ἀπὸ χειρὸς / εἶπέ τ’· ἔρρετ’ αἴσχεα, σώματι λύμα· / †ἐμὲ δ’ ἐγὼ† κακότατι δίδωμι (Athena threw the instruments away from her holy hand and said: ‘Get lost, you shameful objects, a defilement to my body! I do not give myself to basenessʼ). Wilson (1999) 62 rightly observes that the famous sculpture Athena and Marsyas by Myron effectively exploited the fact that Myron himself “was a native of Eleutherai, the region just inside Attike on the Boiotian border from which the cult of Dionysus Eleuthereus was transported each year in the opening rituals of the Great Dionysia.” The poet Telestes from Selinous (PMG 805(a) 1-4) in his Argo ‘rewrites’ this negative Athenian tradition against the aulos. Wilson (1999) 67 points to the fact that in Telestes’ poem the term sophos is equally applied to both Athena and the aulos! (†ὃν† σοφὸν σοφὰν λαβοῦσαν οὐκ ἐπέλπομαι νόῳ / δρυμοῖς

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epainos for the flute-player Potamon finds clearer expression when angled from the point of view of a Theban, who used his profession as a means of differentiating himself in a ‘foreign’ environment. Interestingly enough, in a first-century BCE epigram from Cos,113 where the flute-player Ariston is commemorated as the son of another fluteplayer with the same name, we encounter the phrase ἀνφοτέρης <σ>οφίη(ς) ὁσίης αὐλοῖσιν Ἀρίστων..., where the double-auloi are again connected with the double sophia of the deceased. The word ‘double’ (ἀνφοτέρης) probably refers to the inscreased praise Ariston (the dead man) received both because of his own skill and of his father’s excellence as an auletes. In this particular epigram, sophie is the professional skill Ariston possessed as a gifted flute-player. One is, therefore, tempted to see the expression τοῖς σοφοῖς βάσανον in CEG 509 as a covert reference to the skilled professional auletai. In other words, Potamon’s supremacy in the art of playing the aulos is a touchstone for the other auletai, the other skilled flute-players who are the sophoi. Given the underwater polemics against the criticism of fluteplaying, the phrase βάσανον σοφοῖς may also point on a secondary level to the Athena-type sophoi who criticize flute-playing, but should rather try their ideas and measure their value by Potamon’s yardstick, so as to have their criticism challenged by his excellence.114 Moreover, Potamon’s fame in the whole of Hellas (Ἑλλὰς μὲν πρωτεῖα τέχνης αὐλῶν ἀπένειμεν) can be paralleled to Ariston’s good reputation that will be guaranteed by the dedication of the monument and epigram to Phoebus and Bacchus (Φοίβῳ καὶ Bάκχῳ μ’ ἐπινίκιον ἵλαον αὐλοῖς). Although this line of thought seems to contradict the ‘ironic’ touch inherent in our first interpretation, this need not be the case, since the sophoi may well be skilled practitioners,115 whose art in playing the _____________

113

114 115

ὀρείοις ὄργανον / δίαν Ἀθάναν δυσόφθαλμον αἶσχος ἐκφοβη- θεῖσαν αὖθις χερῶν ἐκβαλεῖν / νυμφαγενεῖ χειροκτύπῳ φηρὶ Mαρσύᾳ κλέος: I do not believe in my heart that the wise goddess, divine Athena, once she took the wise instrument in the mountain thickets and was terrified by this disgraceful thing offending her sight, cast it from her hands to be the glory of the nymph-born, hand-clapping beast Marsyas …). See Wilson (1999) 66-67. See Pantelidis (1887) 75-76; Paton and Hicks (1891) 113-114 no. 58; Segre (1993) 235 (EV 234). Pantelidis is closer to the right reading. See J. Bousquet and S. Follet in Bull. Épigr. (1994) 486 no. 48. I would like to thank Marco Fantuzzi for this suggestion. The sophoi have been as early as the archaic period ‘thematised’ as those possessing an advantageous god-sent authority. See Gladigow (1965) 13. See West (1978) 319 ad versum 649 (σεσοφισμένος), who points to the use of σοφίη in early poetry as a technical skill “possessed by the poet or musician” and offers a list with relevant examples. See also Maehler (1963) 67-68, 82, 94-98.

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flute has been ironically transferred to the sophoi par excellence in this context, the Athenians. After all, Potamon must have been a great auletes, whose excellence had been a lasting proof for all those who doubted his techne either on a professional (auletai) or a citydependent (Athenians) basis. (b) Family-Oriented ἔπαινος116 Recognition or praise of the deceased, even when a communal dimension is easily discerned, is balanced by family-oriented concerns. Terms of longing and pain referring to the personal world of the oikos constitute the nucleus of epitaphic composition and function as an umbrella under which public praise is covered. In CEG 512117 the initial designation of a public framework concerning the deceased’s praise is only the foil for the indirect praise experienced by the family.118 The ‘glorious praise’ (κλεινὸν ἔπαινον) the departed acquired among all the citizens (παρὰ πᾶσι πολίταις) is counterbalanced by the family’s excessive longing for the loss of their dear one (ἄνδρα ποθεινότατον | παισὶ φίλει τε γυναικί). (i) Tηλέμαχος | Σπου̣δοκράτος | Φλυεύς. (ii) ὢ τὸν ἀειμνήστου σ’ ἀρετᾶς παρὰ πᾶσι πολίταις | κλεινὸν ἔπαινον ἔχοντ’ ἄνδρα ποθεινότατον | παισὶ φίλει τε γυναικί. — τάφο δ’ ἐπὶ δεξιά, μῆτερ, | κεῖμαι σῆς φιλίας οὐκ ἀπολειπόμενος. (iii) Ἱερόκλεια | Ὀψιάδου | ἐξ Oἴου.

4

(i) Telemachos, son of Spoudokrates, from Phlya. (ii) Oh man, having won among all citizens for your always-remembered virtue a famous praise and being very much longed for by your children and wife. — On the right side of your grave, mother, I lie, not forsaken of your love. (iii) Hierokleia, daughter of Opsiades, from Oion.

_____________ 116 117

118

Since CEG 533 has been discussed in detail in the εὐλογία sub-group, I will not examine it on this occasion. From Piraeus, first quarter of the 4th century (GVI 1386 = GG 86). See Meyer (2005) 87. See Zumin (1961) 204.

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As in CEG 512 direct praise is expressed by the modifier (κλεινὸν) and indirect praise by the superlative ποθεινότατον, so in CEG 543.1-4 recognition is also ‘measured’ in similar terms (πλεῖστομ ... ἔπαινον):119 (i)

(i)

πλεῖστομ μὲν καὶ ζῶσα [τ]ρό|πων σῶν ἔσχες ἔπαινον, | Λυσάνδρου Πιθέως | Ἀρχεστράτη ἔγγονε, καὶ νῦ[ν] | [λ]είπεις σοῖσι φίλοισι μέγαν πόθον, | ἔξοχα δ’ αὑτῆς ἀνδρί, λιποῦσα φάος | μοιριδίωι θανάτωι.

4

During your lifetime you received excessive praise because of your manners. And now, Archestrate, grandchild of Lysander, son of Pitheus, you are leaving to your friends and especially to your own husband great yearning, after having left the light for the sake of fated death.

This tendency to use some form of an explicit or implicit comparison either of the deceased himself or of one of his virtues with others and/or their virtues is an age-old feature of Greek lament tradition.120 The structure of the first part of the epitaph (quoted above) is basically the same as in the previous example. It begins with the praise and recognition (πλεῖστομ ... ἔπαινον) of the deceased (Archestrate) and is then continued by a reference to the great yearning (μέγαν πόθον) she has left to her friends. This time, however, there is a further elaboration through the creation of a third level of comparison regarding the deceased’s own husband, who is last in the list, but first (ἔξοχα) in the climax of longing for his dead wife.121 The excessive praise Archestrate has received for her manners and behavior during her lifetime is left vague, since the ones who have bestowed on her this great ἔπαινος are not specified. One is, therefore, left to infer that this group of people is the one about to be mentioned in the next verses, namely the deceased’s friends. The vocative ‘granddaughter’ (ἔγγονε) is also indicative of the family-oriented tone of the epitaph. Archestrate’s ‘magisterial’ appellative occupying almost the entire second verse is effectively presented: by tracing her origins to her grandfather, the composer of the epitaph deftly engages its readers in an interpretive game reinforcing the family-stemming mark of the epigram: the reader reads aloud the names of the grandfather (Lysandros), father (Pitheus) and the deceased (Archestrate) in a sequence, _____________ 119 120 121

Piraeus, ca. 350? (=GVI 1986). Only the first part (lines 1-4) of 543 is quoted. Attested as early as Homer. See Tsagalis (2004) 36-39. For the use of ἔξοχoν within a lament context in order to refer to the highest item in a list, see e.g. Il. 18.56. See also Tsagalis (2004) 38.

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thus effectively ‘reenacting’ through the process of reading the sequence of generations following one after the other.122 The same, family-oriented tone is attested in CEG 561 = ΣΕΜΑ 449, where the deceased son Kallimedon is commemorated together with his dead father, Kalliteles, who passed on soon after the death of his son:123 (i) Kαλλιμέδων Kαλλιτέλ[ου]ς | Mυρρινούσιος. (ii) τῶν μὲν δοὺς βάσα[νον Ô˘Ô Ó Ô˘Ô Ó  Ó Ó], | Kαλλιμέδων, ἀρε[τ]ῆ̣ς πλεῖστ̣[ο]ν ἔπαινον ἔχεις. | σοὶ δὲ πατὴρ φθιμένωι [σ]υνεπέσπετο τὴν πολύκλαυτον | Kαλλιτέλης παιδ̣[ὸς] μοῖραν ἰδὼν θανάτο.

4

(i) Kallimedon, son of Kalliteles, from Myrrhina. (ii) Having given a test of ..., Kallimedon, you have received excessive praise for your virtue. Kalliteles, your father, followed close upon you who perished, after having seen the much-lamented fate of his son’s death.

The fragmentary condition of the stone does not allow us to speak with certainty about the meaning of the initial verse of the epitaph. It remains uncertain whether τῶν μὲν was answered by a δὲ participial clause or if it is indeed answered by σοὶ δὲ in the beginning of the third verse. Although from a syntactical point of view the former is much more likely (since τῶν μὲν ‘goes’ with the participle δοὺς), the completion of the remaining part of the first verse remains highly problematic. Peek 124 has suggested τῶν δ’ ἐλπίδα πᾶσι παρασχών but his proposal has not been adopted in the most authoritative edition of inscribed Greek epigrams.125 Given these problems, the word ‘touchstone’, ‘test’ (βάσανον) in verse 1 semantically remains in the dark. What are the ‘things’ Kallimedon has given a ‘test’ about? Conversely, there are some observations that can be made with certainty: (a) praise is, as is the case with other fourth-century inscribed epitaphs, modified by the epithet ‘excessive’ (πλεῖστον), and (b) the epitaph is imbued with a tone that is oriented towards the deceased’s family. _____________ 122

123 124 125

Fantuzzi (2008) studies the shift from the anonymous external voice of the first part (1-4) that addresses Archestrate in the second person to the internal voice of Archestrate herself in the second and third parts (5-10). He concludes that the first part of the inscription is centered on the departed’s husband, whereas the other two parts on the social dimension of Archestrate’s death. Attica, ca. 350?. Peek (1968) 366-372. See CEG 561 ad loc.

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This time, it is the father’s death, which is coupled with that of the son. The point is effectively made, the more so since the reversal of the regular order of deaths (the father is expected to die before the son) deepens the pathos. The compounds συνεπέσπετο and πολύκλαυτον in the second part of the third verse, the symmetrical placement of the two names at the beginning of verses 2 and 4 (further emphasized by their sharing the same metrical structure [Ó  Ó], the number of syllables [4], the alliterative beginning [ΚαλλιμέδωνΚαλλιτέλης]), and the ‘surprising’ element at the end of the epigram (παιδὸς μοῖραν ἰδὼν θανάτο) covertly emphasize the link between father and son. Despite the general (πολύκλαυτον being an exception) absence of terms of grief, the father’s pain is presented under the scope of the death of his son, probably as a result of excessive pain. (c) Gender-Based ἔπαινος Gender-based ἔπαινος is twice used for women under equivalent dictional conditions. In CEG 493,126 Chairippe is referred to as having received the greatest share of the praise pertaining to women and considered ‘best’ (ἄριστος) among humans: (i) Xαιρίππη. (ii) ὅστις ἔπαινος ἄριστος ἐν ἀνθρώποισι γυναικῶν, | Xαιρίππη τούτο πλεῖστον ἔχουσ’ ἔθανεν· | μνημεῖον δὲ ἀρετῆς παισὶν ἐμοῖς ἔλιπ<ο>ν. (i) Charippe. (ii) Chairippe died having had the most of whatever is the best possible praise for women among humans. I left a record of my arete for my children.

Praise is first modified by an epithet in the superlative (ἄριστος) and further highlighted by the fact that Chairippe has received its greatest share (πλεῖστον). The almost formulaic repetition of this element is here accompanied by other recognizable features pertaining to the Greek tradition of ritual lament. The two distinct groups of people, one in reference to the comparison made (γυναικῶν), the other in respect of a real or fictive audience (ἐν ἀνθρώποισιν), constitute recurrent features of Greek lament, which are observed as early as the Ho_____________ 126

Piraeus, beginning of the 4th century? (= GVI 891).

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meric poems.127 The transition from the anaphoric ὅστις to the deictic τούτο in the second verse is an effective way of signalling or rather designating the kind of praise Chairippe has gained. The function of the two reference-groups is not the same: the formulaic128 expression ἐν ἀνθρώποισι denotes the entire society as the framework delineating the bestowal of praise. On the other hand, the second referencegroup (γυναικῶν) specifies the kind of recognition the deceased has received: passers-by and readers are left to infer that Chairippe’s virtue was based on certain female qualities she possessed. The reader is keyed on more or less the same note in CEG 546 with its strikingly similar wording:129 (i) [Ἀν]θίππη. (ii) πλεῖστον ἐν ἀνθρώποισι γυναικῶν | ἔσχες ἔπαινον πασῶν, Ἀνθίππη, | νῦν τε θανοῦσα ἔτ’ ἔχεις. (i) Anthippe. (ii) Anthippe, among humans you had received the greatest praise of all women, and even now that you are dead, you still preserve it.

The measure of Anthippe’s praise is determined by both the range (γυναικῶν … πασῶν) and by the size of recognition (πλεῖστον … ἔπαινον) she has received within the community of her fellowhumans (ἐν ἀνθρώποισι). This epitaph goes one step further than the previous one. The deceased has not bequeathed this praise to her children but she still keeps it after her death. The relief130 depicts three figures: Anthippe seated in the middle, with a standing male figure on her left and a standing female figure on her right. The man, probably her husband, is touching her shoulder with his right hand and has placed his left arm on the upper part of the chair on which Anthippe is seated. The female standing figure, probably Anthippe’s daughter, has her head turned slightly down as she is looking at the deceased, and has stretched her right hand towards the seated figure. Anthippe is holding her daughter’s right hand with her own right hand, while caressing her daughter’s arm with her left hand. The most interesting feature of the relief is that Anthippe’s head, being only _____________ 127 128 129 130

See Tsagalis (2004) 36-39. See also CEG 581: [ὅστις ἔπ]αινος ἄριστος ἐν ἀνθρώποισ[ι Ô Ó Ó]; Meyer (2005) 90 n. 235. Attica, ca. 350? (= GVI 1705). See Clairmont (1970) no. 55 (plate 25).

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slightly lifted, is turned towards the right.131 The family scene depicted in the relief is, despite Clairmont’s claims,132 representative of the epitaph. The family tone of the relief makes explicit for the passer-by what the epigram implicitly alludes to, as ἔπαινον is left surprisingly unspecified by the text:133 it is Anthippe’s role as mother and wife that has conferred on herself the greatest praise. The sculptor’s insistence on depicting the gestures of both the deceased and of her family-members captivates forever Anthippe’s memory, just like the epitaph preserves her praise even after her death. Σπάνις-epitaphs The so-called σπάνις-epitaphs represent a form of indirect praise. There are two examples of this category (CEG 525):134 (i) Γλυκέρα Θουκλείδου. (ii) ὁ̃ σπάνις ἐστὶ γυνα<ι>κί, ἐσθλὴν καὶ σώφρονα φῦναι | τὴν αὐτήν, δοκίμως τοῦδ’ ἔτυχεγ Γλυκέρα. (i) Glykera, daughter of Thoukleides. (ii) Glykera truly had what is rare for the same woman, namely to be born good and moderate.

The generalized statement placed at the beginning of the epitaph is not to be taken as a token of misogynistic attitude, since the very same expression is employed for a man.135 The epitaph is inaugurated with twofold expectations: the σπάνις-expression conveys a negative color and the correlative (initiated by the relative ὁ̃) prepares the reader for its ‘capping’ deictic device (τοῦδ’). The postponing of the deictic τοῦδ’ is enhanced by the appositional and, therefore, explanatory ἐσθλὴν καὶ σώφρονα φῦναι | / τὴν αὐτήν, which intensifies the generalizing tone of the σπάνις-expression by bringing to the fore two abstract epithets (ἐσθλήν and σώφρονα). The tragic coloring of the passage136 and the understatement of the σπάνις-expression under_____________ 131 132 133

134 135 136

Clairmont (1970) no. 55. (1970) 133. This is the only example in the entire corpus of fourth-century funerary epigrams in which the evaluative term ἔπαινος remains unspecified either by a genitive case or by some other syntactical means. Piraeus, ca. 360? (= GVI 890). CEG 532: οὗ σπάνις ἀνδρὶ τυχε̃ν. I owe this point to Meyer (2005) 91 n. 238. Meyer (2005) 91 n. 239.

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score the use of a new means for the praise of the deceased. Whereas in the archaic period the honor and glory of the deceased was expressed by the praise of the monument and its noticeability, it is now based on abstract, ethical concepts.137 The σπάνις-expression is a variant form of the superlative praising device, which is often used in a gnomic context. Instead of saying ‘Glykera truly had what was the hardest thing to find among women, i.e. goodness and moderation shared by the same woman’, the author of the epitaph employed the ‘covert superlative’ inherent in the σπάνις-expression.138 The implicit praise of Glykera may be well seen as a form of social integration of the deceased, the more so since the moral values are socially contextualized, thus delineating a framework within which the deceased belongs. The preference for the abstract noun σπάνις instead of its rather concrete verbal equivalent σπανίζω is indicative of the influence of Greek tragedy and especially of Euripides. The noun σπάνις is never attested in Aeschylus, but it is found twice in Sophocles139 and five times in Euripides.140 Of all these cases σπάνις is five times preceded by a negation, either οὐ (three times) or μή (twice). Three of the Euripidean attestations of the word are worth mentioning: Andr. 770-771: εἴ τι γὰρ πάσχοι τις ἀμήχανον, ἀλκᾶς / οὐ σπάνις εὐεργέταις Hec. 11-12: ... εἴ ποτ’ Ἰλίου τείχη πέσοι, / τοῖς ζῶσιν εἴη παισὶ μὴ σπάνις βίου. Or. 940-942: [... εἰ δὲ δὴ κατακτενεῖτ’ ἐμέ, / ὁ νόμος ἀνεῖται, κοὐ φθάνοι θνῄσκων τις ἄν· / ὡς τῆς γε τόλμης οὐ σπάνις γενήσεται]

In all three cases, the negatively formulated σπάνις-expression, preceded by a conditional clause, functions as an emphatic litotes device: ‘no lack of force’, ‘no lack of life’, ‘no lack of daring’, i.e. ‘great force’, ‘a full life’, ‘much daring’. In other words, the σπάνις-expression is employed as an emphatic ‘capping’ of the conditional referring to a destructive outcome. Keeping this observation in mind, it may be plausibly argued that in CEG 525 the σπάνις-expression plays a role equivalent to that of the εἰ-clause in the aforementioned Euripidean examples. This generalizing εἰ-clause has been studied in the first chapter of this monograph, where it was contended that it constituted a recurrent feature of fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs. From this perspective, I would like to maintain that in his effort to accom_____________ 137 138 139 140

Meyer (2005) 91. For the superlative in Bacchylidean γνῶμαι, see Stenger (2004) 149. OT 1460-1461; OC 505-506. Andr. 770-771; Hec. 11-12; Or. 940-942; Rh. 245-247; IA 1162-1163.

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modate the tragically colored σπάνις-expression in the limited and metrically different environment of the inscribed epitaph, the composer of this epitaph has used it in the place of the generalizing εἰclause. The result is the creation of an expression much starker than ̃ that employed in tragedy, through the correlative structure ὁ -τοῦδ’ and the addition of an assertive term like δοκίμως echoing the socially oriented overtones of the entire composition. The second σπάνις-epitaph is markedly different from the first one, where the σπάνις-expression formed the pole upon which the entire composition was based (CEG 532):141 (i)

[τὄνο]μ̣α μὲν τὀμὸν καὶ ἐμο̃ πατρὸς ἥδε ἀγορεύ[ει] | [στή]λη καὶ πάτραν· πιστῶν δὲ ἔργων ἕνεκα ἔσχο[ν] | [Πίσ]τος ἐπωνυμίαν, οὗ σπάνις ἀνδρὶ τυχε̃ν. (ii) Πραξῖνος | Tερεία | Aἰγινήτης. (i)

This very stele bespeaks my name, my father’s name and my fatherland. On account of my trustworthy deeds I received the nickname Pistos, which is rare for a man to have. (ii) Praxinos, son of Tereias, from Aigina.

This time the σπάνις-expression is attributed to Praxinos, also known by the nickname Pistos (the loyal-one). The σπάνις-expression that is accompanied by the verb τυχε̃ν and is added, rather abruptly, to the very end of the whole composition does not represent an integral part of the formulation of a distinct moral attitude. In CEG 525, the praise of the deceased Glykera was based on her remarkably well-balanced combination of noble origin (ἐσθλήν) and moderation (σώφρονα), which are only rarely found in one and the same woman.142 Conversely, in CEG 532, the deceased’s praise is orchestrated around his loyalty, because of which he has earned the nickname ‘Pistos’ (the loyal-one). The addition of the relative clause οὗ σπάνις ἀνδρὶ τυχε̃ν does not explain or clarify what has already been said. Future-readers of this sepulchral epigram must have pondered about the exact meaning of this last expression, since it remains unclear whether it is stated that loyalty is rare for a man or that only rarely a man is given a nickname after his deeds. _____________ 141 142

Piraeus, before ca. 350? (= GVI 1786). The entire epigram will be examined in detail in the following chapter. See Skiadas (1967) 74-75, who rightly argues that arrogance may well be the result of the lack of the aforementioned combination of noble origin and self-restraint.

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The ‘Thick and Thin’ Theory: Family, Age, Profession The ‘thick and thin’ theory is a term taken from Ober,143 designating what the sociologists call the societal level. The societal level may be placed between the purely civic and the solely individualized aspects of human life.144 It refers to beliefs, ideas and activities that are neither civic nor individualized but reflect a tendency to rechristen civic activity into society-oriented activity, society being defined as the intermediate area comprising the oikos but also the sum of oikoi within the city-state, but not seen as country- or fatherland-oriented entities. From this perspective, the themes employed are traditional but their target-domain is new. The ‘thick and thin’ theory is a useful heuristic tool allowing one to keep the balance between a ‘thick’ early classical civic mentality and a ‘thin’ fourth-century societal attitude.145 Notwithstanding rigid classification schemes drawing sharply defined dichotomies between the city and the family, this approach invites modern scholars to further explore sets of typical transitions: the fatherland is replaced by the family, mors immatura by longevity, and warlike excellence by professional success. Family146 Consideration of family relations on the basis of the diction used in the epitaphs has to be grounded on the recurrence of family terms. A necessary caveat in this case stems from the selection not of all family _____________ 143 144

145

146

Ober (2005) 174-175. See also Pomeroy (1997) 18-19, who rejects as misleading and oversimplifying the traditional dichotomy between public and private in Greek life. She argues for a tripartite division comprising public, domestic/public, and domestic/private. Similar arguments have been put forward by Benson (1996) 208, who has rightly highlighted the coexistence of traditionality and innovation in the recurrent figure-types of classical grave stelae. In the author’s own words “the unique effectiveness of this material was in its artifice, that is, in the deliberate use of the traditional for purposes which were new … [t]he innovation appears in the use of these components for rhetorical purposes, not by a single artist, or a single patron, but by an entire social class of a large polis for a period lasting nearly a century.” I have only included in my statistics those epigrams, which contain a family term. I have diverged from Breuer’s tables in that I have excluded all doubtful cases (e.g. CEG 498).

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terms147 but only of those disclosing a viewpoint oriented towards the family. The designation of a family relation through the reference to a family member may well be indicative of the particular familyidentity of the deceased that the composer of the epitaph wanted to highlight. Conversely, fourth-century epitaphs show a strong tendency towards commemoration of multiple family-oriented identities or relations the deceased possessed. Apart from the fact that this pleonastic use of family terms is directly relevant to the key-role of the family as well as to the importance of various roles the deceased played within the household (say, as husband and father), it is always wise to remind ourselves that statistical data depend on cumulative observations, which, needless to say, are rarely wrong. It is only under the protective umbrella of all these observations that the ensuing remarks must be taken into account. The surviving corpus of inscribed epitaphs from fourth-century Attica amounts to 162.148 Of all these sepulchral epigrams, family members (under the framework described above) are attested in 45 of them, 11 in epitaphs for men and 34 in epitaphs for women. The difference between the frequency by which family relations are highlighted in epitaphs for deceased men and women should be studied with respect to the percentage of sepulchral inscribed epitaphs for men and women respectively. Since the epitaphs where a dead man is commemorated are approximately 85 (in a total of 162), then the 11 epigrams containing references to the dead man’s family relations represent ca. 12.9 %. The picture is strikingly different when one turns his attention to women. The sepulchral epigrams where a woman is commemorated are 63 (in a total of 162) but the epitaphs containing references to a dead woman’s family relations are 34, which amounts to ca. 53.9%. To the striking antithesis between the low ratio (12.9%) of familyoriented designation of deceased males and the high ratio (53.9%) of family-oriented designation of deceased females we must add the considerable increase in the percentage of epigrams for women during the 4th century. In the 5th century there is one epigram dedicated to a woman for every three epigrams for men. In the 4th century, while this percentage remains stable for epigrams found outside Attica, in Athens there is a remarkable increase, since 4 epigrams for _____________ 147

148

In this light, I have refrained from considering the extra metrum part indicating family relations. On Attic epitaphs, see Osborne (1988) 5-60.

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men are almost equally balanced by 3 epigrams for women.149 Both the growth of female epitaphs in fourth-century Athens and the high ratio of citations of family-oriented relations in inscribed epigrams for deceased females reflect a change of focus on two distinct levels: the first concerns the shift of emphasis in the 4th century from the polis to the individual, as exemplified by both the epigrammatic production and also by the grave reliefs,150 whereas the second refers to the particular kinds of family relations emphasized in the case of deceased women. As far as the former is concerned, this is a typical reflection on the social level of the beginning of the “Niedergang der Polis”,151 the fall of the city as a discernible center of virtues. The system of moral, social and political values takes now a new direction, as it becomes more family- and person- than state-oriented. The “Entwicklung der Einzelpersönlichkeit” (the development of individuality), as Christes152 has neatly put it, is reflected by (a) the increase of private epitaphs and the decrease of polyandria and (b) the growth of epitaphs for women. These are by-products of the development of individuality but not yet in the sense of denying or rejecting civic virtues, as it will be the case in the Hellenistic period. The decline of the city-state did not happen overnight, nor did the basic tenets and beliefs stemming from the notion of a city-state disappear at once. In this light, the previously employed term ‘societal’ aptly describes the shift from civic interests to personal concerns that are socially determined. By ‘socially’ I am referring to both the microcosm of the oikos and to the reflection of the oikos within society at large. To make a long story short, the commemoration of an individual by a sepulchral epigram that was inscribed on a publicly displayed monument reveals a keen interest for bringing the oikos of the deceased to the social foreground. This antithesis is especially relevant in the case of sculpted reliefs on monuments for women, where the use of privately oriented themes is at odds with the public display of the monument.153 In respect of the form of family relations highlighted in fourthcentury Attic epitaphs for deceased women, statistics become ex_____________ 149

150 151 152 153

See Breuer (1995) 48-49. Likewise the number of reliefs for women undergoes a considerable growth, with the result that feelings and mourning are much more often depicted in reference to the private sphere. Christes (1975) 32; Breuer (1995) 49. Christes (1975) 32. Christes (1975) 32. Breuer (1995) 65-66.

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tremely important. Let us first offer a full table with all the relevant cases:154 Table: Female family roles (based on distribution of family-oriented terms) highlighted in Attic fourth-century inscribed epitaphs for deceased women155 Fam. memb ers Husband, mother Husband

Husband, brothers, mother, child Husband, mother, father Husband, children Husband, Gr/children Mother Children Children, Gr/children Gr/children Gr/parents Total

Wi fe

Mother Gr/m

486

Da ugh - Sister ter 486

508, 530, 538, 539, 555, 573, 590, 603 513, 543 513, 543

513, 543 513, 543

529

529

Gr/d

536, 576, 536, 576, 621 621 566 566 487, 533 493, 526, 542, 592 613 613 541, 563, 16

10

4

6

2

522 1

When family-terms are employed, women are commemorated mainly as wives (41.02% of the cases), then as mothers (25.64%), occasionally as daughters and grandmothers, and only very rarely as sisters and _____________ 154 155

The total number of epigrams containing family-terms is 34 for women and 11 for men. In the above table the abbreviation ‘Gr’ stands for grand- (children, daughter, mother, parents etc.).

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granddaughters. The dominant classification of women as wives156 testifies to their role in their new oikos. This time the emphasis lies on their husband, who will miss them after their death. The statistics show that it is not their role as mothers, as one might have expected, but their state as wives that is emphasized. By inference, it can be plausibly argued that in the 4th century the oikos gradually becomes the sphere of female control,157 the place where women undertake a more active role.158 This is why a woman’s loss will be greatly felt by her husband, because the oikos, this self-contained private Lebensbereich, will lose its most efficient and able administrator. Directly relevant to this issue is that of property ownership, where the role of women was equally important. Foxhall159 has once and for all shaped our notion of what ownership meant for ancient Greeks and, in particular, for ancient Athenians. Coming to grips with the ways ancient Athenians regarded property and, in our case, property entering the household160 through the wife’s dowry, may be seriously encumbered by cultural constraints that we tend to impose on antiquity. In the cognitive system of Athenians of the classical period, women’s dowries constituted an integral and indispensable part of the well-being of the household. The case of Alcibiades’ wife Hipparete, who left her husband because he had brought prostitutes to their house, resulted in Alcibiades’ carrying her back home, since he could not live without her huge dowry, which Hipparete would have legally taken with her if _____________ 156

157 158

159 160

Pomeroy (1997) 127 observes that women, like men, are identified by name and patronymic at least. The demotic is never mentioned for a woman, whereas it is constantly employed for a man or for the deceased woman’s father. According to Bradeen (1974) 238-244 index 11, the words γυνή (wife) and θυγάτηρ (daughter) are more often cited than any other word. Studying the family members mentioned in female epitaphs is of paramount importance, for in this way one is able to explore the ways fourth-century Athenian society prioritized one role of women as opposed to others. Breuer (1995) 65. See Pomeroy (1997) 22. Aristotle (Pol. 1252b10) employs the term κοινωνία (partnership) to describe the union between husband and wife within the oikos. Xenophon in his Oeconomicus (a fourth-century work on the acquisition of the proper skill for house and estate management) presents both the negative example of Critoboulus’ problematic family and the positive example of Ischomachus’ family. In both cases, the proper administration of the oikos is based on the husband’s teaching his wife how to manage the household. In Ischomachus’ family, female administration of the estate becomes the decisive factor in its success. Foxhall (1989) 22-44 contra Schaps (1979). See e.g. [Dem.] Against Boeotus 2 (40) 19 where the verb ἐπιφέρειν is used for a dowry brought in the household by a woman upon her marriage.

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she divorced him.161 This case is indicative of the importance of wives during the classical period in Athens, property being only one of the reasons contributing to their increased significance for the prosperity of the household. The dexiosis motif,162 which is so often depicted in the relief of funerary monuments, has been used to establish a firm association between women and the expression of feelings and needs pertaining to the theme of death. The polarity between the emotionally loaded presentation of women on the one hand, and the rather canonical depiction of men as citizens on the other is a permanent feature of fourth-century reliefs on sepulchral monuments. This antithesis can be also seen in the frequency by which family-relations are used in epitaphs for women as opposed to epitaphs for men. The dexiosis signifies a solemn engagement, the handshake illustrating the externalization of one’s behavior with special emphasis on intensity and duration.163 After the 430s the reliefs on the stelae rarely “depict the funeral monument itself or any aspect of the funeral ... they often seem to depict individuals as they might have been in life.” 164 Humphreys165 rightly argues that it is family life that determines the function of virtues recorded in the epitaphs, a tendency in full harmony with the relief depicting the dead as integral members of their families. By the third quarter of the 5th century, handshaking could be used in scenes of both parting and greeting, in a context pertaining to death, marriage or even political symbolism (Attic Athena shakes hands with Samian Hera).166 The popularity of the motif significantly increases during the 4th century. General concepts are regularly expressed in the stelae as opposed to the recognizable events depicted on white-ground lekythoi. Since the stelae, contrary to the lekythoi that aimed at emphasizing the separation between the living and the dead, were to be permanent memorials not just to the individual but to the whole family, timelessness and lack of determination of the location were highlighted. Thus, the distance between the living and the dead had to be minimized with the result that confusion was caused about recognizing the figures depicting the living and the dead in the relief. The fact that the dexiosis may be a sign of family unity is consonant _____________ 161 162 163 164 165 166

See Plut. Alc. 8; [Andoc.] Against Alcibiades (4) 14. See Younger (2002) 197 n. 31, who has counted 224 two-figure stelae depicting a man and a woman, 75 only with men and 110 only with women. Schöll (1996) 165 n. 1123. Meyer (1993) 107. (19932) 106-107. Davies (1985) 630.

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with the emphasis laid on women’s role as wives in fourth-century Attic epitaphs. It has been rightly argued that the dexiosis motif combined the ideas of parting, reunion and communion between living and dead.167 The very difficulty to discern the deceased from the other family members depicted on the funerary stele is a covert statement made by the sculptor: it points to the continuation of the interaction168 between family members even after one’s death.169 Pemberton170 notes that whereas the Archaic grave stelae were basically set up by parents for their children, there was an intensfication and ‘democratization’ in their commissioning starting in the 420s, as the result of two important events that shook the very foundations of Athens: the abandoning of the oikos by the farmers who flocked to the city in great numbers after the invasions of the Spartan army in Attica at the beginning of the Peloponnesian war on the one hand, and the ensuing plague which caused the death of many Athenians on the other. The dramatic circumstances of these deaths did not allow their relatives to offer proper burial. This might have caused in the ensuing years a special concern for emphasizing family unity and taking care of the dead. In the lekythoi, the living are depicted visiting the graves and bringing offerings, but they are unable to get in touch with the dead. Conversely, in the figured stelae the emphasis is exactly on this communication (signifying partition and unity of the family at the same time) between living and dead. In the epitaphs, the twofold meaning of λείπω is apt for this interpretation: on the one hand the dead leave behind their beloved ones, but on the other they bequeath them their arete and sophrosyne. The dexiosis motif, which is depicted in the lekythoi much less often than it is portrayed in the gravestones, underscores the physical connection between the deceased and his beloved one.171 Although women were not allowed “to enter into contracts sealed with oaths, for which the dexiosis might be an appropriate symbol”,172 yet they were portrayed shaking hands. Dexiosis was equally depicted _____________ 167 168

169

170 171 172

Davies (1985) 630. See Pemberton (1989) 48. The dexiosis signifying the unity of family members (past, present and future) agrees well with the multiple designations of family relations in a single epitaph and the presence of many family members on the relief. Pomeroy (1997) 129 citing Shapiro (1991) 652-653. The same is the case with many white-ground lekythoi depicting “women at the tombs in the presence of what appears to be the dead person.” (1989) 47. Shapiro (1991) 654 (with examples). Pemberton (1989) 49.

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in document reliefs, which appear before the gravestones (422/1 BC, IG I2 81; Eleusis 5093, where Athena and Triptolemos clasp right hands).173 Lawton174 rightly observes that this may be taken as an implicit indication of some form of equality between the two family members, as it would have been the case if two men were shaking right hands while making an agreement. This being the case, the dexiosis between women and husbands might have been an even more interesting feature in the sense that their equal role in the household is recognized.175 This can be further surmised by the fact that children are never depicted performing a dexiosis. Unity is also expressed by an older person offering a gift, usually a bird. Moreover, the depiction of side pilasters (antai) in a dexiosis scene on a stele points to the oikos as the suitable place for the creation of family-unity.176 Given the strong emphasis on family-unity as exemplified in the relief (especially when a dexiosis is depicted),177 it is no wonder that women are basically presented in the inscribed epitaphs as wives. The emphasis on the uxorial aspect of deceased women seems to be at odds with their regular extra metrum identification by patronymic (next of course to her own name). Although this may create the illusion of an oscillation between her old and her new oikos, this is hardly the case. The explanation should be rather sought in the epitaphs acknowledging the importance any deceased married woman had for her entire household.178 She embodied family-unity to a greater extent than her husband, since it is through her that the oikos (husband, children, slaves) gained its internal cohesion. Her commemoration as a wife stands for the emblematic presence of her oikos (the third, more intimate and private version of the family according to Pomeroy)179 on public display. After all, the use of the formula τάφον ἀντὶ γάμου180 for _____________ 173 174 175

176 177

178 179 180

Pemberton (1989) 49 n. 18. (1984) 45. It may also be a ‘relic’ of the clasping of hands between father and future groom before marriage. This time, the handshaking symbolizes the unbreakable bond of husband and wife as an emblematic token of family-unity that death will not destroy. See Younger (2002) 178. Pemberton (1989) 50. Younger (2002) 176 has argued that the use of the motif of dexiosis in stelae depicting two named women indicates that the two women are related. Kurtz and Boardman (1971) 140 thought that any two named persons clasping hands were the ‘primary deceased’. Pomeroy (1975) 92. Pomeroy (1997) 18. See CEG 584; 591.12. See also CEG 587 for fourth-century Attica and CEG 732.4 for Histria.

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women who died unmarried is indirect evidence for the importance of their would-be uxorial aspect. Leader181 has examined both single-sex and mixed-sex (family) groups. In single-sex reliefs, the relation between women and men is implicitly expressed through “allusions to dowry in the representation of jewelry, or verbally through epitaphs, preserving an image of women’s separation from men.” In mixed-sex reliefs, men are depicted as being within the sphere of the female world, i.e. their civic aspect is systematically downplayed. Leader rightly argues that the stelae represent a synthesis between the public and private spheres of life.182 Their placement at cemeteries, which are basically located in Attica at gates leading outside the city, makes them perfectly visible to any passer-by. On the other hand, their iconography and gender roles, reflecting highly idealized representations of domestic contexts, make them belong to the sphere of the oikos. Their oscillation between civic and domestic is consonant with the ‘thick and thin’ theory that underlines the liminality of grave stelae with respect to clear-cut polarities. The entire grave stele is based on a deliberate paradox, namely that the epitaphs expressing a woman’s private virtue are inscribed on memorials publicly displayed.183 Extending this observation further, it can be argued that the regular and frequent depiction of women’s adornment scenes (especially with jewelry)184 in grave reliefs shows that, within the context of the preponderance of uxorial identity in fourth-century inscribed epitaphs from Attica, women were indeed considered to be a “symbolic and actual capital within the family.” 185 An interesting example is CEG 539 where Archestrate, commemorated as ‘most longed for by her husband’ (ἀνδρὶ ποθεινοτάτην), is inscribed on a marble stele depicting a seated woman on the right, a standing female figure on the left holding an opened box, and a child (Archestrate’s) between them holding or rather pulling the dress of the seated woman. It seems that we are dealing with a domestic scene of daily life, which has been idealized by the sculptor. The seated woman is Archestrate, while the standing female is probably her slave. At first glance, there is no relevance between the relief and the epitaph, the more so since Archestrate’s husband who is referred to in _____________ 181 182 183 184 185

Leader (1997) 683. Leader (1997) 688. Leader (1997) 694. For jewelry, see Higgins (1980) 119-120; Williams and Ogden (1994) 47-50. Leader (1997) 694.

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the epigram is not depicted at all in the stele. Conversely, what the epitaph states (namely that Archestrate was much desired by her husband) is ‘translated’ into a family-scene ‘publicizing’ through the idealized depiction of domestic female life the reason why Archestrate was ἀνδρὶ ποθεινοτάτη. Inscribing female virtues186 on the grave stele covertly indicates that women are commemorated as members of the household whose loss is thus ‘publicized’ by the family. Notwithstanding an absolute dichotοmy between ‘public’ and ‘private’, one is able to see how increasing concerns about these two spheres made the relatives publicly commemorate scenes of domestic life, even in their idealized sculpted representations, which otherwise would have remained hidden in the secluded area of the house, where women were supposed to operate. As a result, the oikos made manifest to Athenian society at large its presence. Since “stelae depicting a single man and woman –usually understood as husband and wife- appear slightly earlier at the beginning of the 4th century, and seem to represent a break with the visual definition of men and women in exclusively gendered spheres”,187 it has been maintained that the multifigured stele may be indicative of the inscreased sense of separation between the oikos and the polis.188 The multimembered stele in the 4th century reflects the unity and continuity of the oikos,189 just as the multiple members of the family mentioned in the majority of epitaphs (as recipients of the pain caused by the loss of a dear one, especially a woman) aim at stressing that the oikos, despite the departure of a member, remains unbroken. The lack of a formal language to denote the deceased on the part of the grave stelae stems from the emphasis placed not on singling out the dead person but rather on highlighting the bond between the members of the oikos.190 _____________ 186 187 188

189 190

See CEG 539: ἐνθάδε τὴν ἀγαθὴν καὶ σώφρονα γαῖ’ ἐκάλυψεν | / Ἀρχεστράτην ἀνδρὶ ποθεινοτάτην. Leader (1997) 695. Humphreys (19932) 1-32. For another model stressing the coexistence of gender relationships in the polis and the oikos in the classical period, see Foxhall (1989) 22-43 (esp. 23); contra Sourvinou-Inwood (1995b) 111-120. Leader (1997) 698. Leader (1997) 699: “References to the oikos and its social structures can be read in the images themselves (covertly), and more explicitly in the epitaphs with their praises of women’s virtues and lamentation of the loss that the women’s death inflicts upon their parents, husbands, and children.”

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Table: male family roles (based on distribution of family-oriented terms) highlighted in Attic fourth-century inscribed epitaphs for deceased men Fam. m emb . Father, uncle Sons, wife, mother Gr/children

Father Son

512

Brothers Grandparents, friends, parents Children, wife 576 Wife Parents Greatgr/children Total

2

Gr/fat Hus her band

481 512

Broth. Gr/son Friend

512 521, 524, 574, 601 570

570

585

585

585

1

1

586 595 492

4

ΣΕΜΑ 821 6

3

1

The statistical data concerning deceased males do not display significant preference for any single role: men are almost equally commemorated in fourth-century inscribed epitaphs in Attica as grandfathers (6),191 fathers (2), husbands (3), and sons (4). Only occasionally other identities creep up to the surface (brother: 1; grandson: 1; friend: 1). On the other hand, male inscribed epitaphs refer, like their female counterparts, to multiple family relations. Even a cursory look at the sub-corpus of grave epigrams devoted to deceased males shows the persistence of the same ‘strategy’ of consolidating and reaffirming family unity. The coexistence of multiple family members in the grave stelae is effectively paralleled by the regular mentioning of multiple family-roles of the same deceased male in a single epitaph. CEG 512 is a typical example of this tendency: (i) Tηλέμαχος | Σπου̣δοκράτος | Φλυεύς. (ii) ὢ τὸν ἀειμνήστου σ’ ἀρετᾶς παρὰ πᾶσι πολίταις | κλεινὸν ἔπαινον ἔχοντ’ ἄνδρα ποθεινότατον | παισὶ φίλει τε γυναικί. — τάφο δ’ ἐπὶ δεξιά, μῆτερ, |

4

_____________ 191

I treat great-grandparenthood (ΣΕΜΑ 821) as a sub-category of grandparenthood.

194

Chapter 3 κεῖμαι σῆς φιλίας οὐκ ἀπολειπόμενος. (iii) Ἱερόκλεια | Ὀψιάδου | ἐξ Oἴου. (i) Telemachos, son of Spoudokrates, from Phlya. (ii) Oh man, having won among all citizens for your always-remembered virtue a famous praise and being very much longed for by your children and wife. — On the right side of your grave, mother, I lie, not forsaken of your love. (iii) Hierokleia, daughter of Opsiades, from Oion.

The extra metrum part stands for the formal presentation of the deceased, as Telemachos is mentioned together with his father’s name and his deme. The dichotomy of the epigraphical space prepares the reader of the inscription for a ‘notional leap’ into the rather ‘private’ sphere of the deceased’s domestic life. Since Telemachos is a man who will be much longed for by his children (παισί) and wife (φίλει τε γυναικί), his positive role as father and husband comes to the fore. At the same time, the indirect manner of promoting his paternal aspect as well as that of a spouse results in highlighting the presence of Telemachos’ entire family in the very inscription commemorating his death. At this crucial point when family cohesion has been reaffirmed, the epigram makes a sudden but brilliant turn by extending family unity to the deceased’s mother depicted on the right side of whose grave (τάφο δ’ ἐπὶ δεξιά, μῆτερ, | / κεῖμαι...) Telemachos has been buried. By exploiting at full length the common burial (probably within a peribolos)192 of mother and son, the epitaph dictionally embodies multiple family relations and roles for the same deceased male. The first two (father and husband) are expressed only through the epitaph, while the second (son) is also emphasized by the family burial.193 _____________ 192

193

Humphreys (19932) 107 has rightly observed that “this concern to provide for future burials (or in some case to commemorate those of the past) is not the only reason for the stress on family unity in the tomb reliefs of the late fifth and fourth centuries. These representations and inscriptions, and the peribolos frame which surrounded them -which rapidly took on more elaborate architectural forms- gave monumental expression to the images of domestic life which had developed earlier in the more intimate art of vase-painting. (In the fourth century, similarly, New Comedy made a major dramatic genre out of the family intrigues previously presented to the Athenian public in the sketchy narrative of courtroom speeches). The achievements and virtues commemorated in epitaphs are now, in the great majority of cases, those of family life.” After the epitaph, there is another extra metrum section that reads ‘Hierokleia, daughter of Opsiades from Oion’. I have not considered this reference as relevant to my analysis, because it has been inscribed later than the commis-

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One of the noteworthy features of fourth-century Attic grave epigrams is the high frequency with which they designate deceased males as grandfathers. In fact, this is the most common role attributed to deceased males in our corpus. It may be surmised that defining deceased males as grandfathers is an implicit reference to their longevity and, consequently, this phenomenon should be discussed in the section devoted to the study of age. I have adopted a different approach, restricting myself, in the section dedicated to age, to the study only of those cases where there is a specific term referring either to the age of an individual or to the years he or she has lived. I will, therefore, show that pointing to the role of grandfather for a deceased male is not a feature pertaining to age-designation but rather a characteristic stemming from perceptions oriented towards family issues.194 Alluding to a deceased male’s grandfather status in fourth-century Attic epitaphs follows a formula-based pattern, since the stereotypical phrase παίδων παῖδας + verbal form (καταλείπων: CEG 524, ΣΕΜΑ 821; λιπεῖν, εἴδοσαν: CEG 570; εἶδον: CEG 574; ἐπιδών: ΣΕΜΑ 821; ἐσιδών: CEG 601) is regularly used. The very diction of this stereotypical formula implicitly points to the idea of family unity lying at the heart of fourth-century grave monuments and epitaphs. The word for grandchild is used only twice (CEG 543.2: ἔγγονε; 521.1: ?υἱωνοί)195 in the extant corpus of fourth-century grave epigrams. In the expression παίδων παῖδας the focus is rather on the continuity of the family, since grandchildren are designated as ‘children of other children’ (παίδων παῖδες).196 ΣΕΜΑ 821 is the single extant sepulchral epigram _____________ 194 195

196

sioning of the monument and the epitaph, probably upon the death of Hierokleia, Telemachos’ wife. See Clairmont (1970) 150. See Humphreys (19932) 107, who thinks that this is as a sign of longevity. See Bruss (2005) 48: “The erectors of the monument are named by their relation to the deceased (υἱωνοί). The displacement of their names by their familial relationship to Philemon may be due to pressures exerted by a postCleisthenic law drafted possibly to address the problems surrounding the burial of the dead during the plague years of the early Peloponnesian War. According to this law, next of kin or heirs to the deceased had a ‘statutory obligation to bury the dead and could be called upon to pay the costs of burial by deme officials if they did not carry out this obligation with sufficient promptness’.” See Dem. Against Macartatus (43) 57-58. Bruss (2005) 48 n. 54 gives further bibliography. See also Clairmont (1970) 142-144 no. 65. This expression is used four times (CEG 541: … τέκνων δ’ ἐπιδοῦσ|[α ἔτι] παῖδας; CEG 563: γηραιάν, ἄνοσο̣ν̣, π̣α̣ῖ̣δας παίδων | ἐπ̣ι̣δοῦσαν; CEG 566: φῶς δ’ ἔλιπ’ εὐδαίμων παῖδας παίδων ἐπιδοῦσα; CEG 613: τρεῖς παῖδας καὶ ἐκ τούτων ἑτέρους παῖδας προσιδ[οῦσα]) for deceased females in the extant corpus of fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs.

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from fourth-century Attica (Rhamnous) where great-grandparenthood is mentioned. Understandably enough, the epitaph of the deceased Euphranor was inscribed on the base of a funerary stele where the names of his three children (Euphron, Euthyphron, Phainarete) and his grandson Archedemos (son of Euphron) were also inscribed. The importance of having had great-grandchildren, a rare blessing for any human being (even in terms of modern, extended life expectations) is here spelled out in stark manner:197 εὐδ̣α̣ίμων ὁ θανὼν [Ε]ὐφρά̣νωρ, Εὔφρονος ὑὸς ἐνθ̣[ά]δ᾽ ἔ[ην κ]αὶ ἐτ̣ῶ̣ν̣ ἑκατὸν καὶ πέντ᾽ ἐπὶ τούτοις, τ[ρεῖ]ς παίδ[ων] γενεὰς ἐπιδών, πάντας καταλείπων˙ τ[οὔνεκεν εὐαίων] ἔτυ[μ]᾽ ὃς πρῶτος κατέδαρθεν Εὐφράνωρ πολλοῖσιν ἔβη ζηλωτὸς ἐς Ἅιδου. The deceased Euphranor, son of Euphron, was a happy man. On top of that he lived for 105 years, having seen three generations of children, whom he all left behind. For this reason, Euphranor truly was a man fortunate in life, since he died198 first and went to the House of Hades being envied for his happiness by many men.

Interestingly enough, the designation of grandparenthood is much more often attested in epitaphs for deceased males than females. Needless to say, we do not know whether the epitaphs are referring to daughter-son/daughter-daughter or to son-son/son-daughter relationships but it is a fair guess that we are hereby dealing with son-son relationhsips.199 The reasons explaining the regular occurrence of the _____________ 197

198

199

I have adopted the punctuation of ΣΕΜΑ 821 (cf. SEG 43 (1993) no. 88). For similar expressions, see CEG 757 (which is a dedicatory epigram from fourthcentury Attica). The verb καταδαρθάνειν means ‘to fall asleep’ in a literal and metaphorical sense. Cf. Modern Greek κοιμάμαι (sleep both literally and figuratively, i.e. die). Although the term παῖδας may refer to both sons and daughters, it is more likely that the epitaphs mention the grandsons that the deceased had from his son not only because this would guarantee the continuity of the family but also because of the fact that having the chance to see a grandson from a male descendant (even the firstborn) was a rare occasion (since Athenian men married at a rather advanced age). Strauss (1993) 28 calls attention to the fact that παῖς is a term having a more technical and legal sense than υἱός. In this light, its use in fourth-century Attic epitaphs may be a ‘side-effect’ of increased concern with legal and/or property issues.

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‘παίδων παῖδας + verbal form’ expression in epitaphs for deceased males are the folllowing: (1) Dying after having seen the ‘children of your own children’ safeguards the continuation of the family through the preservation of a line of descendants. This was extremely important for the average male, as the survival and continuation of the oikos was now entrusted to the hands of other males related to him by blood. This ‘like father like son’ concept was deeply rooted in Athenian male consciousness, given the existence and diffusion of Athenian foundation myths according to which Athenian men were born from the earth (αὐτόχθονες). As Strauss eloquently argues:200 The polis frequently appropriated the language of kinship as a legitimizing tool: for example, in the notion of Athenian autochthony or descent from a mythical national hero or of the bonds between members of one of democratic Athens’s ten tribes. For all the symbolic significance of such quasikinship ties, however, kinship ties beyond the household had little influence on the everyday give-and-take of the polis. As Lawrence Stone comments about the modern state, at the very moment that the emerging state undermined the kinship power network of the medieval aristocracy, it encouraged patriarchy within the household as a model of the new, royal patriarchy. ... The household was a fundamental constituent of the ideology of the Athenian state. Polis and oikos were less antithetical institutions than mutual and interdependent ones. The two emerged together in the Archaic era, when prosperity created a class of small farmers, the heads of households (oikoi) who became both the soldiers and citizens of a new political community: the polis.

Likewise, this obsession with keeping the family line, which could ultimately be traced to the very beginnings of the Athenian state, was also reflected in an elaborate system of clan, tribe and family relations that had shaped Athenian male identity. Moreover, maintenance of the family cult was also guaranteed by having a grandson.201 (2) Athenian men rarely lived long enough so as to see their grandchildren,202 since they married at a much older age than women. In [Dem.] Against Boeotus 2 (40) 12 Mantias urged his son to marry at a _____________ 200 201

202

(1993) 11. See Golden (1990) 137, who cites Com. Adesp. fr. 103d (a)8-11E as an example of “a grandfather’s joy at the birth of an only daughter’s son.” Cf. Men. Sam. 553-554; Ter. Ad. 333-334, Plaut. Aulul. 796-798. I owe these quotations to Golden (1990) 222 n. 92. Under this scope, it becomes all the more interesting that παίδων παῖδας refers to more than one grandchild.

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very early age in order to be able to see grandchildren from him.203 In fact, 65% of the mothers of firstborn daughters and one-half of their fathers stood a chance of seeing at least one grandchild by them. The case was even worse for a firstborn son’s parents: 40% of mothers and 22% of fathers could expect to see a son from their firstborn son.204 (3) Another additional factor may also be explained by the Radcliffe-Brown205 theory of ‘joking relationship’ between grandparents and grandchildren who, despite being separated by age and experience, share a form of natural and untold alliance against the generation in the middle.206 Social parameters may, therefore, to some extent, have shaped or influenced the commemoration of a deceased male as a grandfather and not so much as a father, who may have had more trouble with his son than with his grandsons or grandchildren. Age Age constitutes one of the principal aspects of life regularly commemorated in fourth-century Attic epitaphs.207 Youth and old age stand for the two phases of human life that are poetically exploited by funerary poetry at large, since they blend in quite effectively with two basic approaches to the event of death: the former is a negative one, namely that the deceased has died early in his life, whereas the latter is positive, since the dead person has completed his life cycle at a late age. Death at a young age is considered to be premature, occuring before one’s proper time. Funerary poetry has developed this approach to death into a full-blown theme, known as ἄωρος θάνατος or mors immatura. Given the multiple reasons that caused people’s premature death in antiquity, it is no wonder that dying young features as one of the most prominent themes treated by sepulchral epigrammmatic poetry.208 On the other hand, old age was considered a topic of posi_____________ 203 204

205 206

207

208

He lived until he saw his granddaughter’s birth. See Golden (1990) 136. For these statistical data I rely on Golden (1990) 136. On the other hand, a daughter’s son could substitute the lack on her father’s side of male offspring and be adopted into his grandfather’s household, even posthumously. See Golden (1990) 137. Radcliffe-Brown (1952) 90-116; Golden (1990) 139. See Bremmer (1983) 183, who rightly remarks that the son’s education was left to others (like the grandfather or uncle), since the father would be too involved in his professional and civic duties. For their relation to tombstones, see Clairmont (1993) 19-29; Breuer (1995) 50-51. See Lattimore (1942) 184-187; Griessmair (1966).

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tive connotations with respect to death. Old people are not commemorated as weak, sick or impotent. The general tendency is that they have had their share in life and that they have been blessed with old age. Longevity is oriented towards the family within the framework of private epitaphs in fourth-century Athens, the more so since it transforms a laudatory motif for the deceased into a consolation device for those left behind.209 Men

Wom en

Total

Youth 480, 527?, 553, 556?, 584, 585, 598, 624? (8 = 50%) 499, 528, 538, 573, 575, 577, 587?, 590, 599 (9 = c a. 81.82%) 17 = 62.96%

Old Ag e Total 477, 531, 554, 557 16 = 59.25% 579, 597, 606, ΣΕΜΑ 821 (8 = 50%) 566, 592 (2 = ca . 11 = 40.75% 18.18%)

10= 37.04%

The theme of age is slightly more often employed in epitaphs commemorating men (59.25%) than in funerary epigrams dedicated to women (40.75%). In the case of women, emphasis is on youth (81.82%) _____________ 209

In the following table, the question mark (?) indicates that the text has been restored and so there is some degree of uncertainty about the relevant readings. I am following Hansen’s CEG II. One necessary caveat for the reader: my statistical data are different from those offered by Breuer (1995) Tables I-II, since I have only considered age designation in the epitaphs themselves, not in the reliefs as well. For example, CEG 495 contains no indication whatsoever concerning the age of the deceased. Breuer’s belief that this refers to a young boy is based on the relief depicting a seated man on the left and a standing male youth on the right (with a loutrophoros below). Even if we adopt Breuer’s approach, we cannot say for sure whether the sculpted figures are realistic or idealized. Another relevant case, which explains my own statistical data, is CEG 485. There is no surviving relief here, so Breuer’s analysis is based solely on the epitaph, which does not say that the deceased Pythokles died young, but that he was called by the nickname of Satyros when he was young (νέος ὤν). The grave epigram makes specific mention of his father and mother by name, while his sister remains nameless. Breuer infers (although the question mark she uses in her Table I implicitly indicates that she is not sure) that the deceased Pythokles was a young boy. But even if this is true, what matters, to my investigation at least, are the age designations in the epitaphs themselves. To this extent, the epigram does not contain any designation of this sort (the term παῖς may indicate that he simply was the son of Pythokles and, in any case, it is not age-oriented).

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and not old age (18.18%),210 whereas with respect to men youth and old age are equally represented (50%). Pomeroy rightly observes that in fourth-century sculpted stelae, “the age of a female survivor may be depicted, but the dead woman continues to be idealized as youthful, as of the age of greatest fertility and sexual attractiveness.”211 Youth as a negative connotation in front of the event of death is ca. 1.74 times more frequently employed (62.96%) than old age (37.04%), which is presented in a rather positive light. In the case of women, this is even more highlighted as the above statistics amply indicate. The average age of death in the classical period being 36.2 for women and 45 for men212 partly explains why women were basically commemorated as dying young. Before embarking on an examination of the most common expressions used for youth and old age, I would like to draw attention to the bipolar model employed by fourth-century Attic inscribed sepulchral epigrams regarding the designation of age. The emphasis put on only these two phases of human life must be seen in the light of both literary influence stemming from the archaic and early classical periods and within the context of growing concern about family issues, among which death during one’s youth or old age played an important role, as it emblematized a potential menace to the continuation of the family. Youth The negative connotations of the theme of untimely death can be seen in the plurality of means used for its expression. Epitaphs aim at awakening the sympathy and compassion of the reader either by applying to youth the common metaphor of ‘flower of life’213 or by drawing attention to the topic of ‘death before marriage’:214 (a) The use of the expression προλιπών/οῦσα + ἥβην is a variation of the formula ‘λείπω + person or life’ that is regularly employed in epitaphs. The combination of such a recurrent expression with the _____________ 210

211 212 213 214

See Clairmont (1993) 25: “With the reference to very old age in 4th century epigrams one realises that, considering the average age at which people died, advanced old age is very exceptional and is thus recorded for its own sake.” (1997) 129. Pomeroy (1997) 6-7. See Lattimore (1942) 195-198. See Lattimore (1942) 192-195; Breuer (1995) 50.

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common metaphor of ‘flower of life’ has resulted in the phrase προλι|ποῦσ᾽ ἥβη̣ν [π]ολυανθῆ (CEG 575).215 This metaphor is based on a wider framework of vegetal imagery characterizing lament poetry at large.216 It is already attested in the Iliad (13.484: καὶ δ’ ἔχει ἥβης ἄνθος, ὅ τε κράτος ἐστὶ μέγιστον). Nagy has eloquently epitomized its function by maintaining that “it conveys the cultural negation of a cultural process, the growing and the wilting of plants, and also, by extension, the life and the death of mortals.” 217 Vérilhac, who has dedicated to the theme of mors immatura a two-volume study, has discerned three sub-topics within the larger theme of vegetal imagery: the flower, the ‘young’ shoot, and the spring.218 CEG 575 219 clearly belongs to the first category, which is the best represented in sepulchral epigrams dating from the archaic to the imperial period. This single example is, needless to say, far from sufficient for drawing any firmly established conclusions about ‘male’ or ‘female’-oriented imagery. Vérilhac’s observation that the expression ἥβης ἄνθος or the verb ἀνθέω are more frequently employed for deceased men than women concerns a much larger time-span and, therefore, is not valid for the fourth-century Attic corpus under examination.220 (b) The topic of ‘death before marriage’221 occurs three times in fourth-century inscribed epitaphs from Attica. Twice, the ‘substitution’ or ‘ἀντί’ formula τάφον ἀντὶ γάμου is employed, while the third time the entire epitaph is based on an extended synthesis of the ‘death before marriage’ topic and Hymenaios. The ἀντί-formula is used under the same contextual framework as early as Homer (Od. 20.507): καί κέ τοι ἀντὶ γάμοιο πατὴρ τάφον ἀμφεπονεῖτο. This topic, being suitable for deceased females, is restricted, in the archaic and classical _____________ 215 216

217 218 219

220

221

On CEG 575, see chapter 2. It is already attested in the Iliad, especially in the form of a ‘young’ shoot. See e.g. 18.56- 57 = 437-438 (for Achilles). See also Tsagalis (2004) 103-104, 150151, 185, 186. For other relevant attestations of this vegetal imagery in Greek epic and lyric poetry, see Skiadas (1967) 39-40 n. 2. (1979) 184. (1982) 339-352. Interestingly enough, a covert lament-oriented ‘vegetal’ marker, the participle ἀποφθιμ[έ]ν̣η, accompanies the vegetal imagery in CEG 575. For its use in Homeric epic and its revealing ‘vegetal’ connotations, see Nagy (1979) 185; Tsagalis (2004) 150-151. The emphasis put on deceased males through the use of the aforementioned expression pertaining to youth may be partly explained by the more ritualized celebration of the transition to maturity. Lattimore (1942) 192-195; Griessmair (1966) 71-75; Vérilhac (1982) 157-160.

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periods, to young unmarried girls.222 Despite its fragmentary state, CEG 584 is a fine example of the tendency for intensification and increase in the emotional appeal of the entire composition.223 Intensification is hereby achieved through the application of various dictional devices: an implicit ‘age’-designating expression (ἡλικίας βαιόν) is coupled by an explicit ‘age’-designating phrase (specific number of years),224 thus effectively paving the way for the almost climactic ‘ἀντί’ formula (τάφον ἀντὶ γάμου) featured at the last verse of the epitaph. Conversely, in CEG 587 = ΣΕΜΑ 2326 the topic ‘death before marriage’ has been shaped into full-blown hymenaios imagery. Instead of focusing on the stereotypical death/marriage replacement, the composer of the epitaph extended this polarity to the whole epigram by verbally ‘depicting’ a vivid image. In the first couplet, it is said that personified Hymenaios, the minister of marriage, did not bring to the deceased Plaggon blessed happiness at home (ἐν οἴκοις), but shed his tears because she died (ἀποφθιμένην) outside her house (ἐκτός). In the second couplet the anonymous author focuses on the deceased’s mother, who ‘is melting because of suffering’ (σῷ δὲ πάθει μήτηρ καταλείβεται),225 and whom the ‘mournful groanings of lamentation will never abandon’ (... οὐδέ ποτ’ αὐτὴν | / λείπουσι θρήνων πενθίδιοι στεναχαί). In this case, the antithesis between death and marriage is further reinforced by the use of two more antithetical pairs: happiness-mourning (ὤλβισεν-ἐδάκρυσε) and the ‘inside the house’/’outside the house’ opposition (ἐν οἴκοις-ἐκτός). Instead of the ἀντί-formula (τάφον ἀντὶ γάμου), this epitaph exploits an alternative dictional mechanism, namely the ‘negation sequence’ (οὔ σε γάμων ... οὐδέ ποτ’ αὐτήν). Chains of negatives are often attested in the place of the ‘ἀντί’ formula τάφον ἀντὶ γάμου, when the topic ‘death before marriage’ is used. The ‘negative sequences’ sometimes function as short priamels, with the last element in the chain being the most important. A typical example is the following one:226 _____________ 222 223 224

225

226

It starts being employed only in the Hellenistic period for young men as well. See Vérilhac (1982) 157. Griessmair (1966) 70. In fourth-century Attic epitaphs, when the theme of youth is employed, specific designation of age is rather rare (only three times for men, once for women). See Griessmair (1966) 15-16, who rightly notes that the designation of the specific number of years the deceased has lived should be seen as an effective artistic means facilitating for the reader the bitter reality of premature death. For the motif of ‘dying before one’s parents’, which is also at work here, see Skiadas (1967) 85 n. 4. See Kaibel ep. 151.7-8.

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ἀκμὴν δ’ οὐ γενετῆρες ἐμήν, οὐκ ἐσθλὸς ὅμαιμος, οὐ πόσις, ἀλλ’ Ἀίδης λυγρὸς ἐκαρπίσατο. It is neither my parents, nor my noble brother, nor my husband, who enjoyed the fruits of my blooming youth, but baneful Hades.

One can, therefore, see that the ‘negation sequence’ used in CEG 587 is a dictional reflex triggered by the replacement of the ‘ἀντί’ formula τάφον ἀντὶ γάμου within the framework of the ‘death before marriage’ topic. CEG 591.11-12 is another example of this tendency of intensification that we have observed above. This time, however, emphasis is created by the use of what has been coined ‘piling up of synonyms’ (‘Synonymenhäufung’) and anaphora:227 … οἳ γόον, οὐ θάλαμον τὸν σὸν προσορῶσι θανούσης | θρῆνόν τε ἀντ’ ἀνδρὸς καὶ τάφον ἀντὶ γάμου. … who are looking at your epitaph, not at your marriage chamber, at your lamentation instead of your husband, at your grave instead of your marriage.

Notwithstanding their Iliadic use,228 γόος and θρῆνος have in the 4th century virtually acquired the same meaning. By piling up synonyms and doubling the ‘ἀντί’ formula through the anaphora of ἀντί, the composer of the epitaph manages to create an emotionally loaded rhythm. The reference to the wedding chamber (θάλαμος) implicitly alludes to the grave chamber denoted by the very same word and consituting a timeless theme in Greek literature.229 _____________ 227 228

229

See Griessmair (1966) 70-71. In the Iliad, the γόος is the personal lament expressed for the death of an important warrior, Greek or Trojan, dead or thought dead, by an equally important plot figure who is his relative or close friend. Conversely, the θρῆνος is the lament speech of the professional mourners that is only referred to but never voiced in the poem. See Tsagalis (2004) 2-8. On the conflation of wedding and funeral motifs and rituals in Greek tragedy, see Rehm (1994); Ormand (1999); Seaford (2005) 113-127; Dué (2006) 143-145. On the double meaning of θάλαμος in Homer, see Tsagalis (forthcoming 2007) chapter 6. See also Skiadas (1967, 89) nn. 2-3, who rightly observes that quite often the wedding chamber becomes the death chamber and the wed-

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(c) Typical is also the use of the verb ὄλλυμι + youth (νεαρὰ ἡλικία, νεότης), which is mainly230 a male-oriented ‘age formula’, a relic of the polyandria commemoration of the war dead. The heroic overtones have been now reduced to ‘painting’ such a sepulchral phrase with a color of ‘masculinity’. The use of a prepositional phrase (ἀντὶ ... ἥβης ... ἡ<λ>ικίας τε / πρὸ ἡλικίας / πρὶν ... ἔτη τελέσαι βίο εἴκοσι) indicates replacement (like the ‘ἀντί’ formula) or untimely death.231 Old Age/Longevity232 Old age is presented in a positive light in order to offer consolation to the relatives for the loss of a dear one. Having lived for a considerable number of years was thought to be some sort of recompense in the face of death. The very idea of a long and well-lived life lies, therefore, at the heart of this topic, which on the other hand is considerably less used (36.1%) than the ‘negative’ theme of premature death (63.9%). This being the case, one can see that fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs exploit age by focusing on the expression of grief rather than on alleviating the harshness of death. Old age seems to be a more apt topic for deceased males (8 attestations) than females (2 attestations). This tendency cannot be explained by age differences at the time of death (the average age being 36.2 for women and 45 for men). In order to account for this phenomenon, one needs to take into consideration the fact that fourth-century epitaphs are inscribed on stones, which are often decorated by sculpture tending to “mask age and emotion. [...] In the fourth century the age of a female survivor may be depicted, but the dead woman continues to be idealized as youthful, as of the age of greatest fertility and sexual attractiveness.” 233 This idealization is consonant with accentuating the theme of premature death instead of that of old age. Women were to be thought of as be_____________ 230 231 232

233

ding torches are replaced by death torches. This is all due to the multiple similarities shared by marriage and death in Greek culture. There is only one exception in the entire 4th century. See CEG 732, a fourthcentury epitaph from Histria commemorating Hediste. Vérilhac (1982) 149-156. The standard expression for untimely death is: ἀλλὰ πρὶν ἡλικίας καὶ γονέων πρότερον. I have classified CEG 601 in the category of epitaphs referring to one’s family and not to longevity. Having grandchildren emphasizes the family bond and continuation, not so much one’s old age (which, according to ancient Greek standards, needed not be prolonged in order to include grandchildren). Pomeroy (1997) 129. See also Pfisterer-Haas (1989) 10-15, 24, 93.

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ing in their most fruitful age, hence the grief and sadness caused by their death.234 This is also true in the case of men, who are more often lamented as dying young than old. Conversely, the frequent occurrence of this ‘male-oriented’ topic of old age may be connected to its encomiastic tone for a life well spent.235 Old age is denoted either through designation of age or through the use of expressions containing some form of the word γῆρας: (a) In half of the total number of attestations of the ‘old-age’ topic, age is meticulously designated. This is done by the use of the ‘tenyear’ formula 236 determining the number of years the deceased has lived: CEG 477.2: εὐδαίμων ἔθανον δεκάδας δέκ’ ἐτῶν διαμείψας CEG 531.3: ἐννέα ἐτῶν ἐβίων δεκάδας, θνείσκω δὲ γεραιός CEG 554.1: ἑπτὰ βίου δεκάδας πᾶσιν φίλος οὐθένα | λυπῶν CEG 592.4: γήραι ἀριθμ[ή]σασ’ ἐννέα ἐτῶν | δεκά<δ>ας ΣΕΜΑ 821.2: ἐνθ̣[ά]δ᾽ ἔ[ην κ]αὶ ἐτ̣ῶ̣ν̣ ἑκατὸν καὶ πέντ᾽ ἐπὶ τούτοις

In the first three cases, the ‘ten-year’ formula is placed at the very beginning of the metrical part of the epitaph, functioning as a vehicle for the thematic kernel of the epigram that is to follow. The anonymous author of CEG 477 points out the happiness (εὐδαίμων) acquired by the deceased who has died at a very advanced age (one hundred years) and has left to his children timely mourning (ὡραῖον πένθος παισὶν ἐμοῖσι λιπών). In CEG 531, the deceased Chairion died at the age of ninety, after having practiced sophrosyne and having left behind a blameless good reputation. In CEG 554, the deceased’s lifespan (seventy years) is employed as a time period during which the dead man did not cause pain to anyone.237 The ‘positive’ aspect of the motif of _____________ 234

235

236

237

See Lacey (1968) 175, who draws attention to the fact that Athenian families had lost interest in older women, since they were unable to contribute children and reinforce the family. Lacey (1968) 106-107 maintains that old age symbolized for Athenian men the ‘crowning’ of a life well-planned, since they were now entitled to withdraw from the headship of the household, which they entrusted to their son(s). Breuer (1995) 50 argues that the limited number of specific designation of age in fourth-century Attic epitaphs must be seen in the light of the influence exercised by that part of the private sphere of life pertaining to the family. According to her, it is the sympathy for a woman’s tragic doom or, in the case of men, the lack of attaining the age of grandfatherhood that is underscored. Age tends to be seen from a family perspective. The expression οὐθένα λυπῶν is a consolatory device. Its use with respect to the deceased’s lifespan is rather innovative.

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old age is also seen in CEG 592, a sepulchral epigram for a woman, where the ‘ten-year’ formula is positioned towards the end of the inscription. The ninety years of the deceased’s lifetime (accompanied by the dative γήραι) function as the foil for the alleviation or soothing of the pain that the deceased’s daughter must have felt. If she was the one who had commissioned (and composed?) the epitaph, then one can appreciate how subtle and effective the whole composition must have been: the speaking dead mother has passed on nobly (εὐθανάτως), going now in happiness (ζηλωτή) to Persephone’s chamber … and has been buried just as it was befitting to herself (ἐτάφην ὥσπερ με προσήκει) because of her daughter’s piety. In ΣΕΜΑ 821 the description of the deceased’s age is placed at the second verse of the epitaph, after an incipient declaration of his happiness. In this light, longevity is employed as the justification or explanation of the deceased’s happiness, which this time is coupled by the theme of having seen before death a long family line. This last example is the most complex and systematic example of a fourth-century Attic epitaph underscoring the importance of age and family. Given that it was found within a family peribolos at Rhamnous,238 the insistence on stressing the abovementioned themes becomes all the more expected. (b) Expressions with γῆρας239 take the form either of adjectives (563: γηραιάν, ἄνοσο̣ν̣, π̣α̣ῖ̣δ ας παίδων | ἐπ̣ι̣δ οῦσαν); 579: ὄ<λ>βιον, εὐγήρων, ἄνο[σον Ô˘Ô Ó  Ó Ó]) or of a prepositional phrase (557: μητρὶ φίληι γήρως εἰς τέλος ἐρχομένηι; 597:240 γήραι ὑπὸλλιπαρῶι θυμὸν ἀποπρολιπών; 606: χρησάμενος, γήρως τέρμα μολὼν πρὸς ἄκρον). Adjectives like εὐγήρως and γηραιά are attested in asyndeton, accompanied by other positive evaluations of old age (ὄλβιος, ἄνοσος, παῖδας παίδων ἐπιδοῦσα), whereas prepositional phrases designate old age as a point (both temporal and local). The asyndetical juxtaposition of adjectives is an emphatic device for intensifying the ‘positive’ presentation of old age enhanced by fourth-century inscribed epitaphs. It recalls the ‘negative’ asyndetical juxtaposition of adjectives expressing grief, a device well known from Homer and Greek tragedy.241 It seems, therefore, that a traditional technique for creating pa_____________ 238 239

240 241

See SEG 43 (1993) no. 88, and ΣΕΜΑ 821. I have classified CEG 592 in the first category (although it fulfills the criteria for both groups) because the use of γήραι in this epitaph seems to be rather secondary. See Od. 4.210 (λιπαρῶς γηράσκειν), 11.136, 19.368; Pind. Nem. 7.99-100. See Il. 22.386-387: κεῖται πὰρ νήεσσι νέκυς ἄκλαυτος ἄθαπτος / Πάτροκλος·...; Od. 11.53-54: σῶμα γὰρ ἐν Kίρκης μεγάρῳ κατελείπομεν ἡμεῖς / ἄκλαυτον καὶ

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thos was aptly reshaped for the needs of the ‘positive’ exploitation of the theme of old age.242 The delicate balance created by the way the theme of age is dealt with hereby manifests the ‘thick and thin’ theory. Preference for the negative theme of youth reflects a social reality, namely the early death of both men and women. On the other hand, consolation often takes the form of commemorating one’s old age, by which those family members left behind might be comforted for the loss of a dear one. Age is thus used as a litmus test whose two highlighted phases, youth and old age, have become the epigrammatic vehicles for the expression of sorrow and consolation respectively. Moreover, the emphasis on the deceased’s blamelessness (εὔκλεια ἀμεμφής, οὐδένα λυπῶν etc.)243 shows that the praise of the deceased and the theme of consolation are effectively combined in an effort to find a middle ground between the rather ‘public’ aspect of the former and the ‘private’ facet of the latter. In the case of private epitaphs from fourth-century Athens, the ample use of old age as a device aiming at the alleviation of pain for the loss of a beloved person constitutes an important innovation standing in stark contrast to sixth-century inscriptions where longevity is virtually absent. This new phenomenon244 must be seen as a ‘reflex’ to the ‘negatively’ colored motif of youth that is unsparingly used in fourth-century Attic epitaphs. This is further corroborated by the fact that age is presented in grave epigrams as a twofold or double-phase condition epitomizing a negative/positive antithesis. Never is any deceased, male or female, commemorated in respect of any other age designation245 nor “is continuity of lineage over time emphasized by verse epitaphs and reliefs.” 246 By compressing the theme of age in these two ends of the time spectrum, fourth-century epitaphs silently display their oscillation between expressing sorrow247 and consolation, between lamentation and commemoration. In particular, the innovative tendency to celebrate longevity248 stands for a _____________ 242 243 244 245 246 247

248

ἄθαπτον...; Aesch. Eum. 564-565: ἕρματι προσβαλὼν Δίκας / ὤλετ’ ἄκλαυτος αἶστος. For Greek attitudes towards old age, see Richardson (1933). See Vérilhac (1982) 15-17; Breuer (1995) 56. Humphreys (19932) 107. See Clairmont (1993) 25. Humphreys (19932) 108. The untimely bereavement of youths is a common theme in tombstones with epigrams during the archaic period. This tendency is continued throughout the 4th century in Attica. See Clairmont (1993) 25. According to Breuer (1995) 48, longevity is only attested in Attic grave epigrams and not in other places.

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covert indication that there is a dynamic symbiosis, a dialectical interaction between family or group solidarity (manifested by consolation for a timely death) and socially approved standards.249 Profession Profession, like old age, is employed as a separate theme only in grave epigrams from Attica.250 As the following table amply shows, the deceased’s profession is used both for men (75%) and women (25%). As far as the specification of job is concerned, non-manual professionals occupy the first place (7), followed by craftsmen and builders (4), nurses and doctors (3), whereas there is a single reference to a priestess.251 Cra ftsm en, Builders

Men

475, 567, 572, 626

Women Total

4

Non-m anual Priest es s Nurse , Total profes sion Midwife als and Ph ysici an 484, 500, 509, 11 = c a. 519,252 550, 578, 73.3% 615 566 534, 569, 571 4 = c a. 26.7% 7 1 3 15

_____________ 249 250 251

252

See Lindner (1972) 171 ff.; Humphreys (19932) 121-122. Breuer (1995) 48. Platonic ideas according to which βαναυσία and χειροτεχνία bring ὄνειδος, and therefore those who practice them are deprived of sophrosyne (Alc. 1, 131b6 ff.) were not accepted at all by fourth-century Athenian society, as our corpus of epitaphs amply shows. On this topic, see Christes (1975) 71-106. CEG 519, line 2 reads in the following way (appropriating a well-known Homeric line [Il. 3.179: ἀμφότερον βασιλεύς τ’ ἀγαθὸς κρατερός τ’ αἰχμητής]): ἀμφότερον μάντιν τε ἀγαθὸν καὶ δορὶ μά̣[χεσθαι]. I have not included the reference to the deceased’s martial excellence in the table above, since he is basically praised as a seer, as the extra metrum part shows: Kλειόβολος Ἀχα[ρνεὺς] | μάντις.

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Men As far as dead men are concerned, the professions mentioned in the epitaphs basically fall into two categories: those pertaining to manual and those to non-manual work. Craftsmen and workers include a shepherd (475), a potter (567), a miner (572),253 and a shearer (626), while non-manual profesionals comprise a coadjutor or assessor of an archon (484), a doctor (500), a flute-player (509), a seer (519), an actor (550), a chorister (578), a singer (615). By determining the job of the deceased the anonymous authors of inscribed epitaphs aim at praising the professional excellence of the departed. In CEG 567, Bacchios the potter is praised both by the whole of Greece (Ἑλλὰς ἔκρινεν ἅπασα) and by the city of Athens (ἥδε πόλις) for his artistic supremacy among his colleages (ἀντιτέχνων πρῶτα φέροντα φύσει). In CEG 572, it is specifically said that nobody could rival in his profession (mining) the deceased Atotas. CEG 626 is not imbued with such a strongly expressed tone of professional rivalry. In fact there is no indication or hint whatsoever about the professional excellence of the deceased Manes. This time, the job-description of the dead man (shearer) aims at specifying the meaning of the evaluative, albeit rather vague, expression χρηστὸς ἀνήρ. In this way, the reader creates a link between the evaluative term and the deceased’s profession.254 In CEG 484, the dead person is designated as a coadjutor or assessor of an archon. Whereas his noble origin is responsible for his being ἀγαθός, his occupation as a public servant is used as a means of explaining the fact that he has acquired the protection of justice, the most solemn and honorable god (ἐκτήσω δαίμον|[α] σεμνοτάτην). In CEG 500, profession is used in order to concretize the evaluative term κράτιστος referring to the dead Aristokrates. If one compares CEG 474255 and CEG 500,256 then this tendency becomes obvious. In the former, the epithet κράτιστος is rather vague, but in the latter it acquires a specific meaning as it designates the deceased’s excellence in the art of medicine. In CEG 509 the Theban Potamon is praised (by the whole of Greece) as a flute-player and in CEG 519 Glaukos, the son of Kleobolos is recognized as a good seer and an excellent fighter _____________ 253 254 255 256

The miner under the name of Atotas from Paphlagonia (CEG 572) was a slave. See Lauffer (19792): 199-202. Breuer (1995) 43. πόλλ’ ἀρετῆς μνημεῖα λιπών, ἔργοις δὲ κράτι̣[στος] | / κεῖται Ἀθηνοκλῆς ἐνθάδε ἀνὴρ ἀγαθός. ἰατρὸς θνητοῖσι νό|σ̣ων ὁ κράτιστος ἁπάν|των ´/ ἐνθάδε Πνυτα|γόρο κεῖται Ἀριστο|κράτης.

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(ἀμφότερον μάντιν τε ἀγαθὸν καὶ δορὶ μά̣[χεσθαι]). The same tone is found in both CEG 550 and CEG 578: an actor and a chorister respectively are praised by the whole of Greece. Even in CEG 615, despite its fragmentary condition, one can plausibly maintain that the deceased must have been praised, probably by the use of a Homeric formula (θεῖο]ν ἀο̣ιδόν). The above examination has shown that in fourth-century Attic epitaphs male professions function as an encomiastic device for the deceased, which takes either the form of praising the dead man in comparison with others of the same profession or of specifying rather general and vague evaluative terms such as χρηστός, ἀγαθός, κράτιστος etc.257 Women The professional occupation of women is expressed four times in fourth-century Attic epitaphs: once for a priestess, twice for nurses, and once for a midwife who is also called a physician.258 In CEG 566, Chairestrate is commemorated as the ‘revered and honorable attendant of all-engendering mother Cybele’ (Μητρὸς παντοτέκνου πρόπολος | σεμνή τε γέραιρα). This is one of the most interesting cases of ‘professional activity’ commemorated in a grave epitaph.259 The first two adjectives (σεμνή τε γέραιρα) acquire their specific semantic potential through the job designation of the deceased: Chairestrate was revered and honored as an attendant of Cybele. The relative clause (ἣν ...) in the second line links the first part of the epitaph, dedicated to Chairestrate’s job, to the second, more intimate segment that is oriented towards her family. The adjective εὐδαίμων used in line five must be interpreted through expressions connected to the oikos, such as her husband’s love (ἣν ὁ σύνευνος / ἔστερξεν | ...) and her having grandchildren (παῖδας παίδων ἐπιδοῦσα). CEG 534 refers to a nurse:260 (i)

<ἐ>νθάδ<ε> γῆ κατέχει τίτθην πα|ίδων Διογείτο ἐκ Πελοποννήσ|ο τήνδε δικαιοτάτην. (ii) Mαλίχα Kυθηρία.

_____________ 257 258 259 260

See Breuer (1995) 42-43. See Stears (1995) 123-124, who argues for a restricted number of female professions. See Pircher (1979) 36-38. Attica, ca. 350?

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(i)

Here, the earth holds the nurse of Diogeitos’ children, [who came] from the Peloponnese, this most just woman. (ii) Malicha from Cythera.

Malicha, a nurse of Diogeitos’ children was a Cytherean who worked and died in Athens. The evaluative term ‘most just’ (δικαιοτάτην) seems to be connected to her professional activity. It is noteworthy that the professional occupation is more often mentioned in inscribed grave epigrams than the actual name of the deceased nurse. In certain cases like this one, an uncommon or foreign name261 might have been omitted for metrical reasons, but it is also the highlighting of the profession of the dead woman that is partly responsible for the absence of her name in the epigram. This is implicitly corroborated by the fact that quite often (CEG 534, CEG 571) the epigram records either the name of the person whose children the nurse looked after or the name of one of the children.262 CEG 569 is about an Athenian midwife,263 Phanostrate who is also called a physician:264 (i) Φανοσ[τράτη nomen patris] | Mελ̣ι̣τ̣έως. (ii) Ἀντιφίλη. Φανοστράτη. (iii) μαῖα καὶ ἰατρὸς Φανοστράτη ἐνθάδε κεῖται, | [ο]ὐθενὶ λυπη<ρ>ά, πᾶσιν δὲ θανοῦσα ποθεινή. (i) Phanostrate, daughter of ... from the deme of Melite. (ii) Antiphile. Phanostrate. (iii) Phanostrate, a midwife and physician lies here. She caused pain to nobody and will be missed, after her death, by all.

Phanostrate was an experienced and, in all probablity, a trained physician and midwife. The way her profession is designated shows that we are not just dealing with a professional occupation but with a career.265 The two epithets attributed to her in the second verse exploit traditional epigrammatic topoi by adapting them effectively to the specifics of the deceased’s job. In particular, the expression [ο]ὐθενὶ λυπη<ρ>ά (causing pain to nobody) is semantically determined by _____________ 261 262 263

264 265

See Karouzou (1957) 311. In this case, it is highly probable that the person mentioned in the epitpah by name has commissioned the erection of the stele. Apart from their typical family roles, women are depicted on Athenian tombstones as priestesses, dancers, midwives and physicians. See Younger (2002) 174, and n. 26. Attica, ca. 350? See Pomeroy (1997) 133.

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Phanostrate’s profession. This able nurse and physician is commemorated as an exceptional professional, who performed her duties so well that she is missed now that she is no more by all, since she used to ease the pain of childbirth.266 CEG 571 is one of the most emotionally loaded inscribed epitaphs. Hippostrate commemorates her nurse Melitta, daughter of Apollodorus who was an isoteles aner. The triple repetition of the word ‘nurse’ (τίτθη), the promise for a lifelong honoring of the nurse by Hippostrate, as well as the highest honoring of Melitta in the Underworld speak for the importance of the deceased’s professional occupation. CEG 491 and CEG 537 were not included in the above table and ensuing analysis, since they do not contain any specific reference to the professional activity of the deceased women they commemorate. On the other hand, they both refer to labor, since they employ the term ἐργάτις pointing to the deceased woman’s main contribution to the household.267 In CEG 537, the dead Nicarete is called φειδωλός (thrift). Despite the fact that no specific professional occupation is designated, these two (CEG 491 and 537) epitaphs show that even general ‘working’ vocabulary (like ἐργάτις) was employed in epigrammatic poetry to specify certain rather ‘fluid’ laudatory terms as σώφρων and χρηστή (CEG 491) or to add a ‘profession-directed’ flavor to a typical laudatory female term (φειδωλός) that was mainly connected to the household. Viewed from the vantage point of the aforementioned analysis, the designation of women’s professional activity in fourth-century Attic epitaphs both converges with and diverges from what we have seen for men with respect to the following two aspects: (a) the profession of deceased males is used as to specify and color abstract evaluative terms (σώφρων, γέραιρα, χρηστή etc.); (b) unlike the epigrams commemorating men, there is no comparison of the deceased female with other women doing the same job. Even when a superlative form of an epithet is employed (δικαιοτάτην), there is no comparison, explicit or implicit, highlighting the motif of professional excellence. Commemoration with reference to profession268 displays a shift of emphasis typical of the 4th century. What is important is first the very _____________ 266 267 268

See Breuer (1995) 56. The idea of a productive, working woman is archetypically connected with Simonides’ bee-woman who is also called ἐργάτις. Following Breuer (1995) Table I, I have classified male doctors separately from female nurses-doctors, but unlike her I have coined them ‘non-manual professionals’ and not ‘intellectuals’.

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commemoration of the deceased’s professional occupation, and second the kind of jobs mentioned in the epitaphs. Although these two issues may be linked to some extent, it is preferable to treat them separately. Intimate remembrance and permanent commemoration are, to use Humphreys’ apt expression,269 the private and public faces of death. Professional occupation constitutes an aspect of one’s daily life that is situated on the border of the public and private spheres of human activity. On the one hand, work, being essential for one’s survival, is considered of the greatest importance for sustaining a family, and on the other, it is regarded as a necessary contribution to society at large, the more so since professional activity is paramount for the progress and welfare of the state. In addition, since one’s profession exercises an enormous influence on one’s life and stands in a condition of uninterrupted mutual interaction with one’s personality and identity, it is no wonder that it is the factor par excellence that oscillates between the public and private aspects of human life.

_____________ 269

Humphreys (19932) 122.

Chapter 4 Narrative Development and Poetic Technique The study of the narrative development and poetic technique of fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs is paramount to the examination of the epigram’s generic evolution. The unity and cohesion of our corpus in respect of time, place and subject matter offers an excellent opportunity for drawing important conclusions regarding the ‘literary’ qualities of the epitaphs that form part of it. The traditional dichotomy between anonymous, inscribed, non-literary epigrams of the archaic and classical periods and the eponymous, written, literary epigrams of the Hellenistic and Imperial periods is bound to be simplistic and schematic. Notwithstanding the much more sophisticated book-epigram of the Hellenistic period and the emergence of the personal author or epigram composer who publishes his work in a collection, the epigrams of the 4th century represent an intermediate phase (and not only in chronological terms) between non-literary epigrams and their literary Hellenistic counterparts. Between these two extremes there is a transitional period during which epigrams begin to show features of subliterariness, of increasing concern with matters that we traditionally connect with the existence of a personal epigrammatist. Such a process of narrative exploitation had hardly begun in the archaic period, when epigrams were characterized for their severe style and epic coloring. The tone was impersonal and rather distanced.1 Sepulchral epigrams in particular contain information regarding the name and city of the deceased, his family and sometimes his age. In the classical period, inscribed epigrams increase significantly in number because of the πολυάνδρια (inscribed epitaphs in collective tombs), which must be interpreted within the context of the growth of Athenian democracy after the triumph of the Persian Wars. The epigrams of the classical period are reworked with greater care than their archaic ‘ancestors’, brevity is _____________ 1

Narrative features have been recently observed in archaic and early classical epigrams. They are, though, in hybrid form and do not evolve into a fully blown poetic composition. The key study on this is Bowie (2008).

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the norm but not without exception, special concern can be detected about word-placement, and last but not least a didactic and highly idealistic tone can be discerned, especially as far as sepulchral epigrams are concerned. The tendency to highlight, at times, passion, the use of the dialogic form, and the emergence of new ‘coinages’ speak for the influence exercised by tragic poetry, sophistic and rhetoric. Gradually, the πολυάνδρια become more rare and in the late 5th and 4th centuries are outnumbered by private inscribed epitaphs. The dramatic changes caused by the Peloponnesian war, civic and political unrest and the turning point at which the Greek city-states found themselves are some of the reasons behind this phenomenon. The increase and popularity of private epitaphs resulted in significant changes regarding their style and content, like the use of gnomic expressions in the form of conditional clauses, the comparison between the past and the present, the underscoring of certain typical fourth-century values such as sophrosyne and arete, the preference for specific death metaphors, and the poetic exploitation of beliefs concerning the immortality of the soul.

The Epitaph as Inscription The relationship between the epigram and the object on whose surface it has been inscribed is of paramount importance for any serious discussion of its function and meaning.2 Moreover, the fact that inscribed epigram “is an occasional genre par exellence” 3 and that it heavily depends on its context results in the creation of a complex nexus of interpretive parameters for any future reader. In this light, both the material context and the occasion or event the epigram is derived from must be reconstructed for they constitute indispensable aspects of the end product, the inscribed epigram the reader sees on a stone. At the same time, inscriptional epigram has developed in the process of its evolution a whole system by which it refers to the event that led to its creation and often indicates by various dictional means the fact that it represents a “shaping of the event by a group or a person who had the text inscribed and its significance for them.” 4 _____________ 2 3 4

See Day (2007) 29. Petrovic (2007a) 49. Petrovic (2007a) 49.

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(a) Deictic Topography Epitaphs on stones employ specific deictic devices in order to demonstrate the fact that they are inscribed on a monument standing at the place where the deceased has been buried.5 This constitutes a very old practice dating from the archaic period,6 which is not at odds with the tradition of the Hellenistic epigrammatic production. Although new dictional means are sometimes developed and employed in Hellenistic epigrams pointing to their book-nature, it is also true that fictional deictics are not less frequent than in the archaic age and refer to the fictional stone or wall often designated by funerary or dedicatory literary epigrams. With respect to sepulchral epigrams of the archaic and early classical periods, Bowie discerns four categories into which “the move towards narration” 7 can be subdivided. These categories include the following topics: (a) who erected the stone; (b) how or to what extent the bereaved suffered or mourned; (c) qualities of the person or people commemorated; (d) how the person or people commemorated died. By studying the deictic topography of an entire corpus of inscribed epigrams bounded together by date (4th century), location (Attica), and type of inscription (sepulchral), one is able to determine to what extent they diverge from their archaic and early classical predecessors. Table: Deictic and non-deictic markers for the deceased (D) or the place of burial (PB) in Attic inscribed epitaphs8 ἐνθάδε

8 th -5 th cent urie s 13=12.38% (PB)

4 th ce ntur y 37=22.83% (PB)

ὅδε ἥδε τόδε

8=7.61%/7 (D)+1 (PB) 1= 0.95% (D) 35=33,33%/1 (D)+34 (PB)

16=9.87%/5 (D) + 11 (PB) 19=11.72%/10 (D) + 9 (PB) 12=7.40%/12 (PB)

οὗτος

3=2.85%/2 (D)+1 (P)

1=0.61%/ 1 (D)

Total 50=18.72 % 24=8.98% 20=7.49% 47=17.60 % 4=1.49%

_____________ 5

6 7 8

This is a generic characteristic of the Greek epigram. See Ecker (1990) 122123 n. 325; Petrovic (2005) 31. Needless to say, the only exceptions to this rule are cenotaphs. See Bowie (2008). Bowie (2008). When τῆδε/τεῖδε refers to χθών (CEG 485.5; 596.6; 607), I have classified it under χθών. All the percentages are approximated to the first or second decimal digit.

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Chapter 4 8 th -5 th cent urie s 0=0% 0=0% 2=1.90%/2 (PB)

αὕτη τοῦτο τῆδε/ τεῖδε Γῆ/γαῖα 3=2.85%/3 (PB)

4 th ce ntur y 1=0.61%/1 (D) 1=0.61%/1 (PB) 0=0%

Total 1=0.37% 1=0.37% 2=3.75%

25=15.43%/25 (PB)

28=10.48 % 13=4.86% 190=71.16 %

χθών Total

1=0.95%/1 (PB) 66=62.85%

12=7.40%/12 (PB) 124=76.54%

D/PB

11 (D)=16.6 %/55 (PB) =83.4%

17 (D)=13.70%/107 (PB) =86.3%

The table above shows that whereas certain forms of deictic markers are used without any singificant change between the archaic/early classical period and the 4th century, other markers show a considerable increase or decrease, and moreover there is a remarkable increase of non-deictic markers pointing to the topography of the sepulchral monument. In particular, in the archaic and early classical period (8th-5th centuries BCE) the deictic ὅδε is constantly employed to designate the deceased (almost always a male), while the deictic τόδε (in the phrase τόδε σῆμα) or the adverb ἐνθάδε alternate to indicate the place of burial. Conversely, in fourth-century Attica the deictics ἥδε and ὅδε are often used to designate the deceased (who is either male or female), whereas the place of burial is specified more often by non-deictic dictional patterns like γῆ/γαῖα (mainly in expressions like γαῖα καλύπτει/κατέχει) and χθών than by the deictic τόδε.9 The adverb ἐνθάδε is also employed in respect of the place of burial with a significant increase in comparison to the relevant numbers of the 8th-5th centuries. If we compare the overall statistics concerning the designation of the deceased (D) and the designation of the place of burial (PB) in the archaic and early classical periods (8th-5th centuries) and in the late classical period (4th century), we get the following figures: Designation of the deceased: 16.6% (8th-5th centuries) – 13.70% (4th century) Designation of the place of burial: 83.4% (8th-5th centuries) – 86.3% (4th century)

_____________ 9

The expression τόδε σῆμα is used only 5 times in fourth-century inscribed epitaphs from Attica (470, 481, 494, 504, 598).

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These statistics, however, contain an important caveat, i.e. that the high percentage of epigrams designating the place of burial in the 4th century do not use deictic markers per se but either combined with expressions like γαῖα καλύπτει/κατέχει and χθών or even without them. Therefore, one can plausibly argue that deictic markers are more frequently (especially ἥδε and ὅδε) employed in the 4th century to designate the deceased and that the place of burial is expressed mainly by formulas like γαῖα καλύπτει/κατέχει and χθών, the latter being used only once (CEG 10) in Attic inscribed epitaphs of the 8th-5th centuries. Such a significant increase in the terminology employed to designate the proper place where the dead are buried indicates that this is their own land, “whether native or adopted.” 10 Bruss has rightly argued that the personification of the earth or the soil (χθών, γαῖα, κόνις) effectuated through the use of terms like κόλπος and στέρνον virtually transforms the place of burial and the subsequent separation of the body from the world of the living into something positive. The dead are ‘welcomed’ by the earth in whose lap they lie.11 On the other hand, the increase of deictic markers pointing to the deceased (females)12 in fourth-century Attic epitaphs is easily explained by the increase of epitaphs dedicated to women. (b) The Reader as Passer-By Sometimes, the deictic topography is expressed by the metaphor of the roadside monument, in front of which the reader stops to read the inscribed epitaph. CEG 597 = ΣΕΜΑ 834 is a typical case:13 (i) Ἱ̣έρων Ἱεροκλέους ῾Ραμνούσιος. Λυσίππη. (ii) αἰπεῖαν στείχων ἀτραπόν, ξένε, φράζεο σῆμα | πέντε κασιγνήτων, οἳ γενεὴν ἔλιπον· | [ὧ]ν [Ἱ]έρων ἔμολεν πύματος βασίλεια Ἀί<δ>αο | γήραι ὑπὸλλιπαρῶι θυμὸν ἀποπρολιπών.

4

(i) Hieron, son of Hierokles, from Rhamnous. Lysippe. (ii) While crossing the steep path, stranger, pay attention to the sema, of the five brothers, who left their family. Hieron was the last of them to arrive at the palace of Hades

_____________ 10 11 12

13

Bruss (2005) 37. See Bruss (2005) 36 n. 76 with a list of relevant examples. For deceased males there is no increase in respect of the use of deictic markers. See Meyer (2005) 63.

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Chapter 4 in shining old age, after having left his life afar off.

The epigram clearly denotes its inscriptional nature not only by addressing the reader as passer-by, but also by inviting him to turn his attention to the monument where the epitaph has been inscribed. The first two verses exploit the visual aspect of the monument and the inscribed epitaph, in order to assimilate the reader with the passer-by. In other words, the epitaph covertly states that the reader can be no one else than a passer-by, since the epigram is nothing other than an inscribed text on a monument. This is a typical example of the strategy inherent in inscribed epigrams to ‘gain a readership’, i.e to attract the attention of the passer-by and invite him to look at the monument and read the inscribed epigram. In CEG 544 the act of reading becomes the act of seeing: (i) Kώμαρχος, | Ἀπολλόδωρος, | Σωσώ | Ἡρακλειῶται. (ii) ο̣ὗ τὸ χ<ρ>εὼν εἵμ<α>ρται, ὅρα | τέλος ἡμέτερον νῦν· | ἡμεῖς γὰρ τρεῖς ὄντε | [π]ατὴρ ὑὸς <θ>υγ<ά>τηρ τε | [θ]νήισκομεν Aἰγ<α>ίου | κύμασι πλαζόμενοι. (i) Komarchos, Apollodoros, Soso, all from Herakleia. (ii) , whose fate has been decided by necessity, look now at our own end. For we, being three, father, son and daughter, die wandering on the waves of the Aegean.

Despite being a cenotaph, the above epitaph aims at inviting readers to figuratively assimilate the end of the deceased family with their own future death. Reading the inscription is practically expressed in terms of seeing it, since the ‘equating’ of a quick glance at the monument to the careful reading of the inscription is just another of the many ways the epigraphic text tries to capture the reader’s attention. The commemoration of the three people’s death is effectuated only through the process of ‘winning a reader’, who is asked to look at the epitaph that functions as the longlasting reenactment of the family’s death at sea. Since the bodies of the three dead have not been recovered, the monument cannot be designated as the proper place for the dead. Still, the epitaph discloses its inscriptional character not only by helping the reader visualize the circumstances of death, but also by assimilating reading and seeing within the context of the grave monument.14 _____________ 14

See Bruss (2005) 94.

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In CEG 590, the inscriptional nature of the epitaph is reflected in the widening of the horizon of its readership. (i) Φίλαγρος Ἀγγελῆθεν. Ἥγιλλα Φιλάγρο. (ii) ἡλικίαμ μὲν ἐμὴν ταύτην δεῖ πάντας ἀκοῦσαι· εἰκοστῶι καὶ πέμπτωι ἔτει λίπον ἡλίου αὐγάς. | τοὺς δὲ τρόπους καὶ σωφροσύνην ἣν εἴχομεν ἡμεῖς ἡμέτερος πόσις οἶδεν ἄριστ’ εἰπεῖν περὶ τούτων.

4

(i) Philagros, from the deme of Aggelai. Hegilla, wife of Philagros. (ii) Everybody must learn about my exact age; I left the light of the sun at my twenty-fifth year. With respect to my manners and the sophrosyne I had, my own husband knows to speak best about them.

The absence of an address to an anonymous passer-by is here replaced by the emphatic πάντας, which also advertizes, albeit differently, the necessity of reading the inscription. Meyer rightly calls attention to the fact that there are plenty of examples of inscribed epitaphs where a wide circle of addressees is mentioned, especially when expressions like λείπω πᾶσι … πένθος are employed.15 But this epigram indicates its inscriptional nature by the use of the verb ἀκούω (ἀκοῦσαι), which presupposes a ‘reading’ of the inscription. If the above two criteria are combined, it becomes obvious that the transmission of the epitaph’s message can be effectuated through listening and therefore reading aloud on the one hand, and through the public display of this epitaph so that everybody (πάντας) would be able to perform the act of reading on the other. The very last verse of the epigram clearly states that, whereas the inscription itself is capable of informing all potential and future readers about Hegilla’s age, it cannot, explicitly at least, talk about her behavior and sophrosyne. Rather, this depends on another authority, i.e. her husband, who ‘knows best to talk about these things’ (οἶδεν ἄριστ’ εἰπεῖν περὶ τούτων). Meyer argues that the use of this motif is particularly relevant within an Athenian context, given the importance of the process of acquiring citizen rights (δοκιμασία) or taking up office. At the same time, the fact that the epitaph becomes the vehicle for another form of speech, which is not offered by the epigram itself, but whose ‘future’ author is designated within this epitaph, virtually constitutes the proleptic reference to another text or even another epigram. In sum, the epitaph refers to the deceased’s age but postpones the praise of her character for another form of _____________ 15

Meyer (2005) 94.

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speech, which is yet to be expressed. Such ‘intertextual’ allusion to a non-existing, potential, future text is a covert way of speaking about the very nature of the existent text where the reference was made in the first place and is intended to prove the reliable truth of what the inscription directly or indirectly -through the authoritative voice of the husband- refers to. The use of ‘oral’ verbs such as ἀκοῦσαι and εἰπεῖν indicates that this epitaph must be perceived as an inscribed text which must be read aloud, and whose anonymous composer may well lie in the epitaph’s last verse as the composer of another epigram referring to his wife’s behavior and sophrosyne. In this light, the use of the present (οἶδεν), which constitutes a recurrent feature of this epigrammatic practice, has a rather special function. It links the past (the behavior of the deceased) with the future (the possibility of a future ‘speech’ about the deceased’s sophrosyne). This ‘extra-carminal present’16 is particularly effective and stands for a permanent feature of the ‘witness motif’ employed in many inscribed epitaphs. Within this framework, the only existing ‘text’ exemplifies in a stark manner its orality, as it alludes to a future ‘oral’ text, which exists only within the performance of this present epitaph. Another example of the aforementioned phenomenon is offered by CEG 623: μάρτυ<ρε>ς ἠέλιος καὶ μήτηρ ἠδὲ πατὴρ σός, Πανταλέων, τῆς σῆς εὐκολίας β[ιότ]ωι. The sun and both your mother and father, Pantaleon, are the witnesses of your ease in life.

The reference to the sun together with the deceased’s parents has been explained within the context of widening the horizon of values (“Wertehorizont”)17 of the epigram’s addressees. It is certainly true that this is an effective way to embrace a wider circle of potential readers, to give a private monument a public gaze and orientation, to _____________ 16

17

I have coined the term ‘extra-carminal present’ based upon Pelliccia’s (1995, 317-334) ‘intra-carminal future’ with respect to Pindaric poetics. In Pindar, intra-carminal first-person futures make the completion of an epinicion coincide with the ‘realization’ of such a future, which is clearly performative. Conversely, in the case of epitaphs extra-carminal presents are unverifiable because of the lack of another epigram, where the ‘promised’ speech-act would be realised. This unverifiability is compensated for by the use of the present tense, which ‘eternalizes’ past events by turning their potential commemoration in the future into a speech-act effectuated in the present. Meyer (2005) 94-95.

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make it socially relevant to a whole audience of readers. On the other hand, ‘witnessing’ one’s ‘ease in life’ becomes an implicit invitation for the reading of another epitaph, where what is covertly said here will be overtly stated there. This other epigram or ‘text’ is, of course, a fictive allusion invented by this existing epitaph, which becomes, through its inscription on the stone, the everlasting commemoration of the deceased. ‘Witnessing’ points to some form of speech, whose promise deliberately remains suspended, turning this epitaph’s extracarminal present εἰσίν (which can be easily supplied from the context) into a false programmatic performative. The performative aspect of the inscribed epitaph collapses its potential futurity. The endlessly repeated performance by future readers of these inscribed verses makes this epitaph the only realization of the ‘promised’ witnessing of Pantaleon’s ease in life. Encapsulated in pithy personification, the ‘messenger-motif’ alludes to the inscriptional nature of the epitaph by recourse not to an extra-carminal but to an intra-caminal present tense. The following epigram (CEG 467) is a typical example of what I coin ‘the intracarminal imperative’: (i) (Titulus nomina praebens periisse videtur.) (ii) ˻ὦ Xρόν˼ε, παντοίων θνητο˻ῖς πανεπίσκοπε δαῖμον˼, | ˻ἄγγελ˼ος ἡμετέρων πᾶσ˻ι γενοῦ παθέων˼, | ˻ὡς ἱερὰν σώιζειν πε˼ι˼̣ρ ώμενοι Ἑλλάδα χώρ<α>ν˼ | ˻Bοιωτῶν κλεινοῖς θνήισκομεν ἐν δαπέδοις˼. (i) (Lost part of the inscription.) (ii) Time, you daimon who supervise all kinds of things for mortals, become a messenger of our sufferings to all men, (saying) that while trying to save the holy land of Greece, we die in the glorious earth of the Boeotians.

Building on the foundations of the famous Simonides ‘Thermopylae’ epigram and the not less famous fr. 10 (West) of Solon,18 the anonymous composer of the above epitaph employs the ‘messenger-motif’ by addressing in the second person not an anonymous passer-by, in the manner of Simonides, but personified and quasi-deified Time (Χρόνος), who oversees all things human.19 Time is asked to become _____________ 18 19

δείξει δὴ μανίην μὲν ἐμὴν βαιὸς χρόνος ἀστοῖς, / δείξει ἀληθείης ἐς μέσον ἐρχομένης. Cf. also fr. 36.3 (West): συμμαρτυροίη ταῦτ᾽ ἂν ἐν δίκῃ Χρόνου. See Meyer (2005) 93 n. 247, who rightly observes that the absence of the ‘deictic’ verb κείμεθα and its replacement by θνήισκομεν is apt, since it underscores the fact that this inscription belongs to a monument which was

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the messenger who will report the sufferings of the fallen warriors to the whole of Greece. The recourse to Time links effectively a generalized first couplet with a second distich that is historically specific (since it alludes to the battle of Chaironea). Within this context, the verb γενοῦ in the second verse is an atemporal aorist, which functions like a present, hence my use of the term intra-carminal present. This technique is particularly appropriate, given the initial reference to a personified and deified version of Time. In this way, i.e. through its repeated performance by any future reader, the inscription acquires timeless value. The overtly expressed request for a future report of the warrior’s glorious death at Chaironea does not remain suspended but will be effectuated in this very epigram through its endless readings by future readers. As Time oversees everything happening in the world of humans, so the inscription, each time it gains a reading, will performatively reiterate the message reported in the second distich.

The Epitaph as Narrative The study of epitaphs as a form of compact narrative would elucidate the process of their evolution from brief, often single-verse stichic hexameters into fully blown narratives in the literary epigram of the Hellenistic and Imperial periods. Such a goal clearly stands beyond the scope of this study. My aim is to apply this kind of analysis to the corpus of fourth-century Attic epitaphs, which constitute a transitional phase between their archaic and early classical predecessors and their literary descendants. The creation of an autonomous poetic genre, such as the epigram, must have been accompanied by the development of certain features contributing to its generic ‘independence’. In this respect, narrative constitutes one of the most fertile fields for studying the process of the epigram’s generic emancipation. (a) Extended Epigrams One of the key-features concerning narrative development is the way the epigram’s central idea is developed. To that extent, the placement of the epigram’s thematic kernel and specific techniques employed to _____________ erected in Athens and not in Boeotia where these warriors died. For the ‘Simonides’ epigram, see FGE 21 (Page).

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expand the epitaph’s semantic core are essential in order to determine how expansion is achieved.20 Relatives constitute one of the chief strategies of narrative expansion. Relative expansion can take various forms such as (a1) relative pronouns following parataxis (additive + relative expansion: 489); (a2) relative pronouns + μέν-δέ expansion (566); (a3) relative pronouns + δέ-expansion (586); (a4) chains of relative expansions; (a5) the ὅς ... ποτε encomiastic device. (a1) Parataxis + Relative Expansion In a four-verse epitaph (CEG 489) composed in elegiac couplets, the composer begins with parataxis as far as the two gnomic statements of the first verse are concerned, but coordinates them to the particularizing statement of the second verse through the use of καί, and subordinates to them -with a relative- the even more specific details about the dead. In this way, the praising statement about Glaukiades becomes a ʻconsequenceʼ of the gnomic truth expressed in the first distich: τὸς ἀγαθὸς ἔστερξεν Ἄρης, ἐφίλησε δ’ ἔπαινος, | καὶ γήραι νεότης οὐ παρέδωχ’ ὑβρίσαι· | ὧγ καὶ Γ[λ]αυκιάδης δήιος ἀπὸ πατρίδος ἔργων̣| ἦλθ’ ἐπ[ὶ] πάνδεκτον Φερσεφόνης θάλ<α>μον. Ares was fond of the agathoi, praise loved them, and youth did not hand them to old age so that they are insulted. It is among them that Glaukiades, keeping off his fatherland its enemies, went to the all-receiving chamber of Persephone.

This epigram could very well have ended with the second verse. In that case, it could have fitted effectively the prerequisites of a polyandrion commemorating a group of warriors who had died in the battlefield. The ensuing relative clause gives the epitaph its private character, since it sheds light on a single warrior, Glaukiades, for whom the generalized statements of the first two verses are further specified by the commemoration of his personal sacrifice for his fatherland. The _____________ 20

On narrative expansion in inscribed epitaphs dating before 480 BCE, see now Bowie (2008). He arrives at the conclusion that “there are many cases where the poet moves into brief narrative, using main verbs, verbs in subordinate clauses, and participles to accumulate narrated acts.”

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relative clause and its placement after the initial generalizing comments indicates the attempt of the epitaph’s composer to link the two couplets, in order to make less abrupt the transition from the general to the particular, from the multitude of anonymous warriors to the eponymous one, Glaukiades. Moreover, the anonymous versifier aims at creating a kind of ʻsequenceʼ between the general truth expressed by the initial gnomic statements and the fate of Glaukiades. In this conception, he tries to suggest to the epitaph’s readers that Glaukiades’ arrival at the chambers of Persephone is the result of his glorious death during his youth in defence of his fatherland. Relative expansion, in this case, aims at allowing the narrative lens zoom on the individual by ‘selecting’ him from a group of people for special commemoration. (a2) Relative Pronouns + μέν-δέ Expansion In this category of epitaphs, the relative clause is internally expanded by a typical paratactic device, the μέν-δέ antithesis. CEG 566 amply displays this structure: (i) [Xαιρεστράτη | Mεν]εκρ[άτους | Ἰ]καριέως. (ii) Mητρὸς παντοτέκνου πρόπολος | σεμνή τε γέραιρα τῶιδε τάφωι κεῖται | Xαιρεστράτη, ἣν ὁ σύνευνος ἔστερξεν | μὲν ζῶσαν, ἐπένθησεν δὲ θανοῦσαν· | φῶς δ’ ἔλιπ’ εὐδαίμων παῖδας παίδων ἐπιδοῦσα.

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(i) Chairestrate, daughter of Menekrates from the deme of Ikaria. (ii) Chairestrate, the respectful and honorable servant of all-engendering mother (Cybele), whom her husband loved when she was alive and mourned after her death, is buried in this very grave. She left the light (of life) in happiness, after having seen the children of her children.

The epitaph begins with a long series of appositives to Chairestrate’s identity and profession filling the entire first verse, whose meaning is completed by the run-over phrase τῶιδε τάφωι κεῖται followed by the subject Xαιρεστράτη. Once more, the composer of the epitaph has decided to broaden the epigram by supplying his readers with further details about the deceased. He, therefore, expands the initial colorless statement by a relative clause building on the subject Chairestrate, a clause that is further developed by a μέν-δέ antithesis. The use of this structure allows the anonymous composer to create a delicate balance

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between the past and the present on the one hand, and the love and mourning of the deceased’s husband on the other. In this way, the subject of the secondary clause (σύνευνος) in the preceding verse remains temporarily suspended, only to find its rest when the twofold relative clause is completed. By further dividing the relative clause into two parts closely bound together by such a strong paratactic device as the μέν-δέ antithesis, the narrative expansion acquires a specific tone. It interrupts the clauses referring to the deceased (in the last verse, the focus is again on Chairestrate) by highlighting a different, albeit extremely important, aspect pertaining to the epitaph’s composition. It seems plausible that the composer of the epitaph may have been none other than Chairestrate’s own husband, who ‘squeezed’ the relative expansion between the initial and final clauses, only to leave his own mark in the epitaph devoted to his wife. (a3) Relative Pronouns + δέ Expansion In this category, the relative clause is externally expanded by a δέ extension, as CEG 586 = ΣΕΜΑ 1375 amply shows: (i) Δαι̯ικράτης | Δημοκράτους | Mιλητοπολίτης. (ii) [π]ολλ[ο]ῖς ἀ<φ>νηὸν δαίμων βίον ὤπασε προῖκ[α], | παύροισιν δὲ ἔτυμογ κτῆμα δικαιοσύνην, | ἧς μέρος οὐκ ἐλάχιστον ὅδε ζωοῖσι μετασ[χὼν] | Δαιοκράτης (sic) κοινοῦ (sic) τέρμα ἐπέρησε βίου, | οἰκείαις δ’ ἐγ χερσὶ τέκνων ἀλόχου τε ἀδα̣[κ]ρυ[τὶ] | [ε]ὐξυνέτου Mοίρας εἰς τὸ χρεὼν δί̣δοται.

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(i) Daiikrates, son of Democrates, from Miletopolis. (ii) To many men the god offered for free a wealthy life, but to few the real possession of justice. After having shared not-the least part of it (justice), Daiokrates arrived at the end of life that is common (to all). (Having died) in the intimate hands of his children and wife without tears, he has been given to the necessity (death) of Fate, which is quick to apprehend.

The epitaph begins by stating that the gods offer wealth to the majority of humans but justice only to the selected few. The relative expansion builds on the word δικαιοσύνην (justice) and inaugurates a fourverse period. Once again, the relative clause leads the basic thought permeating this epitaph from the generalizing initial comments to the

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personal loss of an individual, Daiokrates, whose memory is highlighted by being singled out from the group of a ‘few good men’ who were just. This time, however, the relative clause is further expanded with one more (a third overall) couplet, shifting the emphasis from Daiokrates’ praise as a fair and honest man to his actual mourning by his children and wife. The relative expansion is not simply (as in CEG 489) a ‘bridge’ between the general and the private part of the epitaph, nor an ‘insertion’ disclosing the composer’s identity (as in CEG 566) but a further specification of the personal element brought forward by the first part of the relative clause (in the second couplet). The epitaph has the following schematic structure: A (first couplet): generalizing statement B (second + third couplets): B1. (second couplet): first-level specification (Daiokrates as a just man) B2. (third couplet): second-level specification (Daiokrates as a father)

In this way, narrative expansion allows the epitaph’s composer to place the thematic kernel of the inscription in the second couplet, which constitutes the very last part of the relative clause. Read against the backcloth of this syntactical organization, the epitaph ends with an indirect praise to the deceased deserving the reader’s lingering attention: having lived like few men a just and honorable life, the deceased has died in happiness in the hands of his beloved family members. Such an honorable death needs no tears, for reasons that Fate easily comprehends. (a4) Chains of Relative Expansions A relative clause may be expanded cumulatively, i.e. by the addition of other relative clauses. CEG 526, one of the longest fourth-century Attic epitaphs is a remarkable example of this technique, the more so since it attests to an internal narrative shift, given that its first part is developed in additive participial style. (i) Ξενόκλεια χρηστή. (ii) ἠιθέους προλιποῦσα κόρας δισσὰς Ξενόκλεια | Nικάρχου θυγάτηρ κεῖται ἀποφθιμένη, | οἰκτρὰν Φοίνικος παιδὸς πενθο̃σ α τελευτήν, | ὃς θάνεν ὀκταέτης ποντίωι ἐν πελάγει. (iii) τίς θρήνων ἀδαὴς ὃς σὴν μοῖραν, Ξενόκλεια, | οὐκ ἐ<λ>εεῖ, δισσὰς ἣ προλιποῦσα κόρας | ἠιθέους παιδὸς θνείσκεις πόθωι, ὃς τὸν ἄνοικτον |

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τύμβον ἔχει δνοφερῶι κείμενος ἐμ πελάγει; (i) Good Xenokleia. (ii) Having left behind her two unmarried young daughters, Xenokleia, the daughter of Nicarchos, lies dead, after having mourned the pitiful end of her son, Phoinix, who died at open sea at the age of eight. (iii) Who is so ignorant of lamentation, Xenokleia, that he does not pity your fate? After having lost your unmarried young daughters, you die because of longing for your son, who, lying in the dark sea, has (there) his unpitiful grave.

The first two elegiac couplets are expressed in additive participial style, but the next four lines in relative ‘chain’ style. The difference in tone is the result of stylistic variation. The first part of the epitaph, where the additive style is employed, does not focus exclusively on the deceased Xenokleia but highlights the event of her death by balancing the consolatory survival of her two daughters with the tragic loss of her eight-year old son that she has experienced during her lifetime. This balance is dictionally ʻvisualizedʼ, as both events (survival of her two daughters and loss of her son) are presented through participial phrases, which sandwich the statement of Xenokleia’s death. In fact, the very event of Xenokleia’s death is briefly stated in verse 2, only to be followed by another expansion calling attention to a second cause of grief, i.e. the premature death of her son, Phoinix. By squeezing the epigram’s central idea, i.e. the commemoration of the deceased Xenokleia, between the commemoration of the forced abandonment of the two daughters and the death of her son, the author of the inscription indulges his future readers in a fascinating game with narrative turns and unexpected twists. Conversely, the second part of the epitaph is inaugurated by a direct question conferring a certain abruptness and vividness on the rhythmic tone, the more so since the central idea is placed at the very first position of couplets 3 and 4. The expansion of the relative clauses presents the reader with a linear building up of the theme, which does not offer new information but has a significantly distinct effect on the style of the whole composition. Relative expansions in the second part (couplets 3 and 4) seem like an exercise in variatio,21 since the same ideas are expressed from _____________ 21

See also Fantuzzi (2008) who draws the same conclusion. He also emphasizes the shift from the third person in the first part of the epitaph (2-5) to the second person (6-9). Fantuzzi argues that the purpose of variation in the second (2-5) and third (6-9) sections is “to set the stage for the future emotional

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two different points of view (i.e. that of the actual persona loquens of the epitaph, and that of the future external readers-mourners, for which the persona loquens carefully sets the stage) within the framework of the very same epitaph. This variatio, which consists of the deployment of different narrative devices, intended to strategically pursue two ways of seeing the destiny of the dead, is strong evidence that in fourth-century Attic epitaphs a necessary step is beginning to be taken towards narrative ‘emancipation’ of the inscribed epigram and its evolution into a self-conscious, independent genre.22 Read against this background, this epitaph indicates that sophisticated narrative techniques are put into good use in order to allow for the creation of more extended poetic compositions, and that a strong link has been forged between narrative and syntactical variation on the one hand, and epigrammatic size on the other. (a5) The ὅς ... ποτε Relative Device One marked form of relative clause with a specific coloring is the ὅς ... ποτε encomiastic device.23 Day has convincingly shown that archaic and early classical inscribed grave epigrams employ the ὅς ... ποτε device, which, in Pindaric context (at least), has become “the distinct linguistic trait of encomium.” Although this is a form of relative clause, the use of ποτε, which refers to the past of the laudandus, has a specific force, for, as Day has neatly put it “it reflects the viewpoint of commemorative poetry about a hero of the past.” 24 The use of this relative expansive device builds on the readers’ knowledge of traditional praise poetry, thus inviting them to conceive the epitaph’s almost intergeneric role, since the dead are presented in terms of past heroes, who have become “the subject of praise poetry.” 25 By keying their readers on an epic note, the authors of epitaphs could then easily attempt to persuade them to render praise to the deceased. 26 _____________ 22

23 24 25 26

reactions of readers of the inscription, as if they had to be intended as a sort of guide.” Mutatis mutandis, the same is the case with CEG 591, where verses 5-8 (couplets 3-4) are expressed in additive style, while verses 9-12 (couplets 5-6) in relative expansive style. On ποτε following a relative or without a relative in Greek epitaphs, see Wade-Gery (1933) 71-82. Day (1989) 19. Day (1989) 19. On motifs of argumentation, see Day (1989) 19.

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Laudatory relatives occur very frequently in epitaphs. CEG I contains six epigrams (five from Attica)27 employing the ὅς ... ποτε encomiastic device with the deceased as the antecedent, and CEG II nine (six from Attica).28 Conversely, two fourth-century Attic 29 and two fourthcentury non-Attic epitaphs30 employ the ὅς ... ποτε narrative expansion device not as an encomiastic mechanism but as a pattern introducing a lament. This latter observation shows that the ὅς ... ποτε relative expansion device has begun to be employed, at times, in a different way from its traditional archaic and early classical use in inscribed epitaphs. Let us turn to two examples, one encomiastic (CEG 519 = ΣΕΜΑ 148) and the other threnodic (CEG 576): (i) Kλειόβολος Ἀχα[ρνεὺς] | μάντις. (ii) Γλαύκο παῖ Kλεόβολε, θανόντα σε γαῖα κ̣α̣[λύπτει] | ἀμφότερον μάντιν τε ἀγαθὸν καὶ δορὶ μά̣[χεσθαι] | ὅν ποτ’ Ἐρεχθέ̅ως μεγαλήτορος ?ἐ̣σ̣τ̣ε̣φ̣ά[νωσε] | δῆμος ἀριστεύσαντα καθ’ Ἑλλάδα ?κῦ̣δ̣ο̣ς̣ [?ἔχοντα].

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(i) Kleiobolos from Acharnai, a seer. (ii) Glaukos’ son, Kleobolos, the earth covers you after your death. You were both good as a seer and in fighting with the spear. It is you, whom once the people of great hearted Erechtheus crowned, since you excelled and gained glory throughout Greece.

The epitaph begins with a second-person address to Kleobolos, whose very death is designated by the formula γαῖα καλύπτει. The second verse presents to the epigram’s readers two basic qualities of the deceased, his mantic profession and his excellence in warlike matters. The ὅς ποτ’ narrative expansion refers to Kleobolos’ praise by commemorating his having being crowned by the Athenian people. This second part of the epitaph has a rather dedicatory tone, since it explains that Kleobolos has received such praise because of the glory he had acquired throughout Greece. The metonymy δῆμος Ἐρεχθέ̄ω ς μεγαλήτορος instead of Ἀθηναίων and the terms ἀριστεύσαντα and κῦδος indicate that the narrative development offered by the ὅς ποτ(ε) clause not only ‘transfers’ the epitaph’s readers to the deceased’s past but also shapes poetically this past for them. This is a past reminiscent of the archaic period, whose epic overtones aim at distancing the reader from the present of Kleobolos’ death by ‘playing’ _____________ 27 28 29 30

Attic: CEG 4; 12; 27; 43; 61 / non-Attic: CEG 112. Attic: CEG 497; 519; 538; 565; 570; 576 / non-Attic: CEG 662; 692; 699. CEG 538; 576. CEG 662; 699.

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with the possibility of a spatiotemporal leap from the hic et nunc implied by the second-person address to the deceased, the formula γαῖα καλύπτει, and the monument the reader is looking at, to a praising past in archaic disguise. The encomiastic element is completely absent from CEG 576, where it has been replaced by a threnodic tone: παῖδά τοι ἰφθίμαν Δαμαινέτου ἅδε Kρατίσταν, | Ἀρχεμάχου δὲ φίλαν εὖνιν ἔδεκτο κόνις, | ἅ ποθ’ ὑπ’ ὠδίνων στονόεντι κατέφθιτο πότμωι, | ὀρφανὸν ἐμ μεγάροις παῖδα λιποῦσα πόσει. This very dust has received the comely daughter of Damainetos, Kratista, the dear wife of Archemachos, who died because of the painful fate of childbirth, after leaving to her husband an orphan son in the house.

In order to comprehend the threnodic function of the ὅς ποτε narrative expansion, one needs to reconsider the entire complex of inscribed epitaph and monument vs the deceased and his past life. The epitaphs stand, both literally and figuratively, on the verge between the near and the far.31 The inscribed epitaph by its very conception aims at bringing the memory of the deceased to the present through its reading or performance by any future reader. The monument as a complex of artistic creation on which funerary epigrams have been inscribed balances, by its spatiotemporal proximity and presence, the spatiotemporal distance represented by the world of the deceased. In this respect, the ὅς ποτε relative clauses describing the dead person, with their built in anaphoric function, convey to the readers features of the deceased’s past life. In certain cases, the same epitaph displays both a deictic marker referring to the grave (or the deceased) and a ὅς ποτε narrative expansion pointing at the deceased’s past life or the event of his death. CEG 566 is a good example of the juxtaposition of the spatiotemporal present and nearness of the monument and the inscription (ἅδε κόνις) with the spatiotemporal distality (ἅ ποθ’ ...) of the event of Kratista’s death. Whereas in all the other cases, where the ὅς ποτ’ narrative expansion was used, the anaphoric function of the relative aimed at bringing to the readers’ present the praiseworthy past of the deceased, here it refers to the way the departed perished. From this perspective, the deixis of the first two verses and the _____________ 31

For a pathbreaking analysis of the ‘near’ vs ‘far’ aspects of Homeric diction, see Bakker (2005) 71-91.

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anaphora of the following ones make past and present acquire the same mournful tone. This very dust (ἅδε κόνις) recalls not the glorious or praising past of Kratista, but the pain and suffering of a young mother who in labor lost her life. The epitaph skilfully plays with the idea of ‘assimilation in grief’, implied by the designation of Kratista as Damainetos’ daughter (παῖδά τοι ἰφθίμαν Δαμαινέτου) at the beginning of the inscription and her ‘leaving behind’ to her husband an orphan son (ὀρφανὸν ἐμ μεγάροις παῖδα λιποῦσα πόσει) at the end of the epigram. The reiteration of παῖδα at the beginning and end of the epitaph as well as the thematic convergence of the deictic and anaphoric parts result in a powerful new combination, where the narrative expansion of the ὅς ποτε clause reinforces the feeling of pain by making past and present coalesce in grief. (b) Subordinate Clauses Even a cursory look at fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs shows that the number of secondary, non-relative clauses employed is remarkably small. In fact, only32 two temporal and three conscecutive clauses are attested. Since the basic form of narrative expansion consists in relative clauses offering more information about the deceased or something related to the deceased (like CEG 586), the use of temporal and consecutive clauses must be examined separately, since they constitute two different forms of adverbial relations. There are two temporal clauses in the extant corpus of fourthcentury Attic epitaphs, one introduced by πρίν (CEG 538) and one by ἐπεί (CEG 585).33 The first one is based on Hansen’s proposed lectio, which reads as follows: [οἶκον ?ἔδωχ’ Ὑ]μ̣έναιος, ἐν ὧι ποτε Παμφίλη ἥδε ´ ζῆλον ἔχοσ’ ὤικει τὸμ μακαριστότατον· | [πρὶν ?δ’ ?ἔτ’ ἔτ]η̣ τελέσαι β̣[ίο] εἴκοσ[ιν], ὀρφανίσασα ´ νυμφιδίος οἴκος ἡλικίας ἔθανεν. Hymenaios gave (her) a most blessed house, in which this Pamphile here used to live in happiness;

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33

CEG 586 contains a ὡς–relative clause, which is rather parenthetical, since it does not constitute any narrative-expansion device. I have also excluded conditional clauses, which are treated in detail in Chapter 1 as part of the gnomic expressions contained in fourth-century Attic epitaphs. To avoid unnecessary repetition, see CEG 585 under consecutive clauses.

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The aforementioned temporal clause does not constitute any expansion device, as it can be easily inferred from the narrative syntax of the entire epigram. In fact, it is used as a binding mechanism between the ὅς ποτε relative expansion (ἐν ᾧ ποτε) and the main clause expressing the epitaph’s main idea. The temporal clause functions like the temporal participle ὀρφανίσασα, which adds an even more pathetic touch to the marriage/death opposition. In this way, the thematic development of the epitaph can be smoothly processed by the reader: the distality of the marriage house of the young Pamphile is to be contrasted with the nearness of her new house, i.e. the very place where she is now buried. Consecutive clauses (CEG 570; 585; 604) refer to the results of the deceased’s death to his beloved ones, who were left behind, but they are not a prerequisite for the use of the traditional motif of ‘common fate’ where mourners figuratively assimilate themselves with the deceased. We can then see how the use of consecutive clauses with a very specific and motif-bound function may well indicate the effort to express more vividly the link between the deceased and the mourners commemorated in the epitaph. A time-old feature of lament (attested both in the Homeric γόος34 and in the tragic κομμός)35 was the ‘fictive assimilation’ or ‘common fate’ shared by the two ends of the mourning spectrum, i.e. the dead person and his beloved ones who lamented his/her death. The mourners are often presented being in a situation equivalent to that of the deceased. Their mourning experience is so strongly highlighted that, in Homer e.g., they wish their own death, since the continuation of life after the loss of a beloved person is virtually unthinkable. Consecutive clauses always refer to the future, so their function is necessarily different from the relative expansions examined above, since the latter refer by definition to the past. Moreover, consecutive clauses concern the mourners and relatives of the deceased, not the dead, as is the case with their relative counterparts. It becomes, therefore, obvious that consecutive clauses differ from relative ones in respect of both their time frame and of their referential aspect. Therefore, their role as narrative expansion devices is rather to emphasize the link between the dead person and his family members in the fu_____________ 34 35

See Tsagalis (2004) 39-41. See Kornarou (2001) 113-115.

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ture, i.e. to underscore the fact that the family will, through mourning and grief, retain the same unity it had in the past, that the death of a beloved one was actually a touchstone for the continuation of its cohesion, which is often presented in the dexiosis scenes depicted in the relief the epitaph has been inscribed on.36 CEG 570 clearly shows the aforementioned function of a consecutive clause:37 (i) Φιλιστίδης | Σωστράτου | Πειραιεύς. (ii) [ἐν]θάδε γαῖα ἐκάλυψεν ἀδελφῶ<ν> σώματα δ<ισ>σῶν̣, | [οἵ] ποτε καλλιχόροισιν ἐ[ν] εὐστε{υ}φάνοισί τε Ἀθήνα[ις] | ἤ̣ρ̣ξατον ἀμφότεροι [τ]ε[τρ]ά̣κ̣ι στεφανηφόρον ἀρχή[ν], | [ὥ]σ̣τ ε λιπεῖν παισὶν παί[δ]ων εὔκλειαν ἄ<μ>ενπτο[ν], | καὶ παῖδας παίδων εἴδοσαν ἀμφότερο[ι]. (iii) Σώστρατος | Φιλιστίδου | Πειραιεύς.

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(i) Philistides, son of Sostratos, from Piraeus. (ii) In this place, the earth covered the bodies of two brothers, who in Athens, the city with fair dancing grounds and well-circled with towers, both acquired four times the right to wear crowns as magistrates, with the result of leaving blameless good repute to the children of their children. They both saw the children of their children. (iii) Sostratos, son of Philistides, from Piraeus.

The consecutive clause is placed after the narrative expansion introduced by the ὅς ποτε relative device, which constitutes the main poetic strategy of developing the rather formulaic beginning of the epitaph (ἐνθάδε γαῖα ἐκάλυψεν). The ὥστε λιπεῖν addition aims at linking the deceased with their grandchildren, which implicitly reveals that the two brothers had lived a long life.38 At the same time, the consecutive clause figuratively ‘extends’ the balance between the hic et nunc of the epitaph (ἐνθάδε γαῖα ἐκάλυψεν) and the distality of the past-oriented ὅς ποτε relative expansion by offering a vision of the future, focalized through the blameless good repute the deceased left to their grandchildren. _____________ 36 37 38

Cf. CEG 6, an example of ‘indirect’ praise, where ὥστε is employed in reference to the pain the warriors’ death has caused their enemies (!). ca. 350?, from Attica (specific place remains unknown). See the previous chapter and in particular the section devoted to old age. The importance of this feature is covertly indicated by the rather pleonastic addition of καὶ παῖδας παίδων εἴδοσαν ἀμφότεροι.

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CEG 58539 shows a remarkable similarity to the structure of the previous epitaph, despite the absence of a relative clause designating the laudandus: (i) [Nomen defuncti]. (ii) σωφροσύνην ἤσκον ἀρετήν τε ὡς χρὴ νέον ἄνδρα, | καὶ ζῶν ἠινούμην καὶ ἐπεὶ βιότου τέλος ἔσχον, | ὥστε θανὼν ἔλιπον λύπας προγόνοισι φίλοις τε· | οὐ γὰρ ἔτ’ ἔστιν ἰδε̃ν σῶμα γονεῦσιν ἐμόν. (i) [Name of the deceased] (ii) I practiced sophrosyne and arete, as a young man ought to do. I was being praised both during my lifetime and after I came to the end of my life, so that after my death I left grief to my ancestors and friends; for it is not possible any more for my parents to see my body.

The epitaph does not begin by referring to the spatiotemporal proximity of the inscription but by situating the reader in the past. The speaking ‘I’ is the deceased, who refers to his (νέον ἄνδρα, ζῶν, θανών) practicing sophrosyne and arete as it is befitting for a young man. The temporal markers (the participle ζῶν and the clause ἐπεὶ βιότου τέλος ἔσχον) create a time frame stressing the continuous praise the dead man is receiving. By transcending the boundaries set by his death, the speaking ‘I’ links the past not to the present but to the future. This futurity is consequently further emphasized by the consecutive clause ὥστε θανὼν ἔλιπον λύπας προγόνοισι φίλοις τε. The effect is noteworthy: the praise of the deceased, which was seen from the dead man’s point of view, is shifted to his beloved ones, for whom it is ‘translated’ into grief (λύπας). The ensuing γάρ-clause, an insertion containing implicit information for the future readers of the inscription, explains the cause of this shift, namely the loss of the deceased’s body. The result clause is then, as in CEG 570, not a narrative expansion device in the manner of relative clauses, but a mechanism through which the epitaph’s time frame ‘glances at’ the future. By shifting the point of reference from the deceased and/or the monument to his beloved ones, the composers of the epitaphs were able to emphasize the motif of ‘common fate’, which constitutes one of the typical features of the lament for the dead.40 _____________ 39 40

ca. 350?, from Sounion. See also CEG 604.4: ὥστε γονεῦσιν πέν̣θ̣ος ἀγήρατον̣ [λίπες Ó Ó].

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(c) Parataxis Parataxis represents the most common way of building a short narrative. In this ‘strung together’ style (λέξις εἰρομένη), sense units are not subordinated one to the other (λέξις κατεστραμμένη, the ‘knit’ or ‘periodic’ style) but are juxtaposed in a rather cumulative manner. Lack of subordination means avoidance of relations of priority between the various semantic cola. This linear progress, which is traditionally linked to early forms of prose (like Hecataeus41 and partly Herodotus), is particularly fit for inscribed epigrams, since thoughts are generally presented under small semantic units suitable for the limited space that is available on the stone. The paratactic style is either participial or additive or antithetical. When the additive style is based on the use of participles, the progress of the narrative is rather smooth, as the ‘main-clause-finite-verb unit’ (hence MCF) is highlighted.42 In CEG 469, the use of the participles ἐλθόντας and θανόντας in the second distich leads quickly to the finite verb κτέρισαν. In CEG 480, the absence of MCF before the use of the participles makes the reading of the epitaph even smoother and carries the reader through to the end of this short composition where the main verb is located. In CEG 601, we see the same phenomenon already observed in CEG 469 but with a slight variation. In particular, after the completion of the first couplet, where the MCF is placed at the first verse and a participle at the second, comes a second distich where the MCF is positioned at the fourth verse and the participial clause (PC) at the third.43 Schematically, this can be presented as follows: MCF-PC / PC-MCF. The rhythm in the first couplet is ‘descending’ (from the main thought to secondary material), while in the second it is ‘ascending’. This examination shows that participial clauses intensify the rhythm of the epigram, since they cause the decrease of MCFs on the one hand, and create further internal rhythmic variations (in elegiac couplets) by either balancing the first couplet with the second (as in CEG 469) or by creating a sort of rhythmic ring (as in

_____________ 41 42 43

See Denniston (1952) 60. For the use of this term and the abbreviation MCF (‘main-clause-finite-verb unit’), see Dover (1997) 28. In CEG 469 the order was the following (PC stands for participial clause): PCMCF / PC + PC – MCF.

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CEG 601, where the MCFs are placed at verses 1 and 4, whereas the PCs at verses 2 and 3).44 When sense-units or cola paratactically linked are used, this may result in a simple additive style. In the Hippostrate inscription (CEG 571), καί is used as the device binding together small sense-units.45 This form of parataxis stands in stark contrast to the ‘flowing’ participial style, since it creates short pauses in order to cater for the significant increase of MCFs, which make the epigram’s rhythm rather slow. This principle of co-ordination results in a monotonous effect. It might be a coincidence, but the high percentage of MCFs contained in the Hippostrate inscription recalling children’s speech (which is deprived of more elaborate syntactical devices such as subordination and participial phrases) seems quite suitable for an epitaph dedicated to a nurse by the girl brought up by her. “It is characteristic of Greek thought to view an idea in the light of its opposite.” 46 Denniston’s apt phrasing reflects one of the most typical features of Greek thought and, consequently, of Greek literary style. Within the specific context of lament, antithetical style has been recognized as a recurrent characteristic of the Greek tradition from Homer down to modern times.47 The use, therefore, of antithetical devices within the context of grave epigrams comes as no surprise. What matters, however, is to see what forms antithetical style takes and what its function is within the framework of fourth-century Attic epitaphs. In his classification of inscribed grave epigrams, Peek has used the expression “parallel structure”,48 which is a more general term consisting in the use of symmetrical building-up or presentation of the epitaph’s main topics, often in the form of simple or double or even triple antithesis. Antithesis in fourth-century Attic epitaphs basically takes two forms: either double and triple μέν-δέ antithesis or κατ’ ἄρσιν καὶ θέσιν. Double antithesis has the form of OS + V - O1S1 + V:49 CEG 528 _____________ 44

45 46 47 48

49

Although CEG 480 uses PCs, I will refrain from examining it, since the surviving text of this inscription does not guarantee that there is a single, epitaphinitial MCF. καί is used six times and τε once. Denniston (1952) 70. See Alexiou (20022) 150-160. See Peek (1955) category VII. Parallel structured-epitaphs increase considerably in fourth-century Athens (10 examples) in comparison to a single grave epigram shaped in this way from the late fifth century (CEG 93). ‘O’ stands for object, ‘S’ for subject and ‘V’ for verb. The use of the ‘plus’ (+) means that the element following is not antithetical to the same element in

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(πατρίδα μὲν Πόντον Kύπρις κατέχει, ἐμὲ δὲ Ἀτθὶς | / κρύψε πρὸ ἡλικίας Δωρίδα τῶιδε τάφωι) belongs to this rather symmetrical opposition with almost exact parallelism of the constituent members.50 Triple antithesis has either the form of OSV – O1V1S1 (as in CEG 479: σῶμα μὲν ἐντὸς γῆ κατέχει, τὴν σωφ|ροσύνην δέ, / Xρυσάνθη, τὴν σὴν ὀ | κατέκρυψε τάφος)51 or the form OVS – O1(S1)V1 (as in CEG 549: σῶμα μὲν ἐνθάδ’ ἔχει σόν, Δίφιλε, γαῖα θανόντο[ς], | / μνῆμα δὲ σῆς ἔλιπες πᾶσι δικαιοσύνης). In both examples, symmetrical antithesis is avoided by changing the order of the consituent members and by employing structural variation.52 In CEG 606 the μέν-δέ opposition is used as a device giving cohesion to each elegiac couplet:53 (i) Σ̲ύμμαχος Σίμωνος Xῖος. (ii) πλεῖστα μὲν εὐφρανθεὶς βιότωι, λύπαις δὲ ἐλαχίσταις | χρησάμενος, γήρως τέρμα μολὼν πρὸς ἄκρον, | Xῖος μὲν γενεὰν βλαστών, πατρὸς δὲ Σίμωνος | Σύμμαχος ἐν δαπέδοις Kεκροπίας ἐκλίθην. | ἡ μὲν καλλικόμοις πτόρθοις βοτρυώδεος οἴνης | Xῖος ἀγαλλομένη Συμμάχωι ἐστὶ πατρίς, | αἱ δὲ θεοῖσι μάλιστα φίλαι θνητοῖσί τε Ἀθῆναι | σῶμα σὸν ἐγ κόλποις κρύψαν ἀποφθίμενον.

4

8

(i) Symmachos, son of Simon, from Chios. (ii) Symmachos, having rejoiced the most in his life and having experienced the least of sadness, after arriving at the furthest end of old age, of Chian offspring with respect to his family, his father (being) Simon, he lies dead in Cecropian land. Symmachos’ fatherland is Chios, rejoicing in the beautiful-foliage saplings of the vine that is full of grapes, but it is Athens, most dear to both gods and men, that has hidden your dead body in its lap.

The first and second couplets employ the μέν-δέ antithesis in the hexameter verses, allowing the elegiac couplet to continue the thought initiated by the second part of the preceding hexameter. Couplets 3-4 are not internally but externally structured on the μέν-δέ opposition: _____________

50 51 52 53

the previous colon. The digits appearing next to these letters refer to the use of a different word with the same syntactical function. So O1 designates a word that is antithetically used with respect to the previous object of the first semantic unit but is still, syntactically speaking, an object. See Denniston (1952) 72-73. See Denniston (1952) 73-74. See Denniston (1952) 73. ca. 400-350? BCE, Attic.

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the μέν-part opens the third distich, and is then balanced by the δέpart sustaining the fourth distich. Schematically, the whole structure of this epitaph can be presented in the following way: A-B (μέν-δέ) / C-D (μέν-δέ) / E (μέν) / F (δέ).54 Antithetical structure is here used both internally within the framework of a single distich (as is the case with distichs 1 and 2) and externally between distichs 3 and 4. With respect to the epitaph’s length, one may observe that the μέν-δέ antithesis is employed as a technique offering variation, since the basic idea of the entire composition, i.e. that Symmachos was buried in Athens despite being a Chian in origin, is fully expressed in couplets 1-2 and then repeated in couplets 3-4. Therefore, narrative expansion or repetition is achieved by variation of the μέν-δέ antithetical device.55 Another form of antithesis is based on the use of a device known as antithetical parallelism, where the same idea is expressed twice, the first time positively and the second negatively. In CEG 550, Euthias’ praise is built on three different levels by the use of the aforementioned stylistic device: τέχνει - οὐχὶ φύσει, δεύτερος – πρῶτος, τάξει – σοφίᾳ. Likewise, in CEG 591.11-12 Kleoptoleme is lamented on the basis of the recurrent theme of ‘death vs marriage’, which is here dramatized by being broken into its constituent parts: first the γόον – οὐ θάλαμον opposition and then a further double contrast between threnos-grave vs husband-marriage (θρῆνόν τε ἀντ’ ἀνδρὸς καὶ τάφον ἀντὶ γάμου). This double contrast takes the form of an elaborate equivalence, which is both structural (substantive accusative – ἀντί + genitive) and metrical (each semantic unit covers one hemiepes of the pentameter verse). Parallelism, both antithetical and symmetrical, of sense-units is not mere pleonasm. It lays emphasis and, therefore, underscores both members that are compared and treated as a unit. In CEG 591.11-12, the key point is not the lament but the lament instead of marriage ‘bequeathed’ to Kleoptoleme by fate itself. Antithetical parallelism of this sort has a different effect on the listener:56 whereas μένδέ antitheses create a slow rise in the rhythm of a sentence, short sequences of symmetrical or antithetical pairs produce a staccato ef_____________ 54 55

56

Each letter stands for a single elegiac distich. See Fantuzzi (2008) who argues that the text of CEG 606 is a sequence of two epitaphs and that the second ‘epitaph’ (lines 6-9) expresses “the sentiments of one of Symmachos’ relatives from Chios.” This observation lends further support to Fantuzzi’s (2008) claim that the second (5-8) and third (9-12) parts of CEG 591 “intend to anticipate a pair of reactions by someone we might term the ‘ideal mourner’.”

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fect.57 In this conception, the abrupt and bit-like end of CEG 591 may be contrasted to the smooth and flowing closure of the epitaph for Symmachos (CEG 606). (d) Asyndeton58 The main form of asyndeton employed in fourth-century Attic epitaphs is based on the use of adjectives. In order to appreciate this stylistic device in our extant corpus of grave epigrams, we need to examine briefly its use in Greek poetry and prose from the archaic to the end of the classical period. Asyndeton is attested in archaic epic and early elegiac and iambic poetry where verbal asyndeta are the norm (although asyndeton is not frequent overall). It is employed in Pindar and Bacchylides, who both make regular use of its verb-based form in order to: (a) introduce the final conclusion when some sort of narrative part has been completed or to highlight the peak of growing tension; (b) to invoke either the laudandus and/or some divinity, or the poet himself; (c) to present gnomic statements; (d) to introduce messages or statements.59 Aeschylus and Sophocles employ verbal asyndeta at speech-closures for rhetorical purposes. The same is the case with Euripidean drama but this time there is a marked preference for single words.60 In rhetorical speech, orators tend to use asyndeton at the end of their orations in order to recapitulate and summarize for the audience their main arguments. In the process of time, they tend to show preference for single words or word-groups instead of clauses. Against this panorama of asyndetic usage stretching from epic and early lyric poetry to rhetorical prose, we observe a shift of emphasis from the asyndeton explicativum and conclusivum or consecutivum to the so-called σχῆμα τῆς λέξεως,61 which aims at accumulating arguments at speech- or unit-closure. In the extant corpus of fourth-century Attic epitaphs, asyndeton is mainly used in the form of what Denniston has coined ‘half asyndeton’, where a string of co-ordinated words are juxtaposed without any _____________ 57 58

59 60 61

See Dover (1997) 155. See Volkman (18852 = 1963) 473 ff.; Denniston (1952) 99-123; Kühner and Gerth (19554) 339-347; Smyth (1956) § 2165-2167; Fehling (1969) 210-212; Knobloch (1986) 193-196; Lausberg (19879) § 328; Lausberg (19983) §§ 709-711 = pp. 353-355; Sarischouli (2000) 7-34. I owe these observations to Sarischouli (2000) 19. Sarischouli (2000) 31. See Demetr. On Style 59. I owe this reference to Sarischouli (2000) 33.

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copulatives. Even a cursory look at the given material shows that the ‘half asyndeton’ is employed as a means of accumulating praiseattributing adjectives, which designate the deceased. Grave epigrams CEG 516 (σώφρων, εὐσύνετος, πᾶσαν ἔχο[υσ’ ἀρετή]ν), 563 (γηραιάν, ἄνοσο̣ν̣, π̣α̣ῖ̣δας παίδων | ἐπ̣ι̣δ οῦσαν), and 579 (ὄ<λ>βιον, εὐγήρων, ἄνο[σον]) begin with a ‘three-limbed asyndeton without repetition’62 listing certain virtues or characteristics of the deceased’s character or life. In all three examples mentioned above, ‘half asyndeton’ is used only for positive qualities and never, say, to describe the pain and grief caused to the deceased’s relatives. Furthermore, it is always placed at the initial position of the epitaph, taking the readers by storm, as they first hear about the deceased’s positively valued past life, and only then find out about the event of death. Denniston has rightly talked about the ‘stylistic significance of asyndeton’63 but in the case of inscribed epitaphs it is more cautious to speak of a functional or rather performative aspect. The emphatic and uninterrupted enumeration of the deceased’s positive values significantly decreases the negative side of death, as the act of reading starts with a strong emotional expression aiming at attracting the reader’s attention. This form and positioning of asyndeton stands in stark contrast to the recurrent epitaph-initial formula ‘here lies’ (ἐνθάδε κεῖται) or ‘here the earth covers’ (ἐνθάδε ... κατὰ γαῖα καλύπτει), which both underscore the event of one’s death. Contrariwise, ‘half asyndeton’ consisting of a string of adjectives at the beginning of the grave epigram highlights praise and downplays death by displacing it to the epigram’s end.64 Other forms of ‘half asyndeton’ are used less frequently. In CEG 477, two aorist participles stand in asyndeton although they refer to actions preceding (δεκάδας δέκ’ ἐτῶν διαμείψας) and following (ὡραῖον πένθος παισὶν ἐμοῖσι λιπών) the main verb (ἔθανον). In this way, the MCF εὐδαίμων ἔθανον placed at the epitaph’s beginning covertly indicates that both past (the deceased lived a long life) and future (he left timely sorrow to his children) ‘co-operate’ in making the dead man εὐδαίμων. In CEG 605, a three-limbed asyndeton is employed through the combination of substantives and finite verbs:65 Δηίλοχός με ἐτέκνωσε, | Φιλουμενὴ ἐξανέφηνε, |

_____________ 62 63 64

65

For the use of this term, see Denniston (1952) 108. Denniston (1952) 100-103. This practice is already at work in the early classical period. See CEG 67 (a grave epigram from Attica), which also begins with a ‘half asyndeton’ consisting of a string of adjectives positively characterizing the deceased. Fourth-century epitaph from Piraeus.

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θρέψε Προκόννησος, τοὔ|νομα Mητρόβιος. Deilochos begot me, Philoumene brough me to light, Proconessus reared me, my name is Metrobios.

The effect of this asyndetic structure is noteworthy: the first two ‘limbs’ begin with the subject followed by the verb. The hexameter verse is well balanced, since almost the same number of syllables is distributed in its two parts before and after the trochaic caesura. The asyndeton in the first verse gives emphasis to the father and mother of the deceased but the rhythm significantly changes in the following pentameter because of the reversal of terms in the asyndeton. This time the finite verb comes first (θρέψε) and the subject follows (Προκόννησος). The third ‘limb’ of the entire asyndeton carries the reader to the diaeresis of the pentameter verse, where the rhythm changes once more by the use of two substantives, with the deceased’s name being finally revealed at the completion of the epitaph. Since the reason for the reversal of positions between verb and subject in the third ‘limb’ is purely metrical (the word Προκόννησος cannot begin any dactylic verse), there is no shift of emphasis between the first two ‘limbs’ and the third one. On the contrary, variation is fruitfully exploited, in order to disclose the deceased’s identity at the epigram’s end, after the reader has learned all about him. Once more, as we saw in the string-like asyndeta studied above, the event of death is either downplayed or almost ‘erased’ from the diction employed by the epitaph. This being the case, one is entitled to argue that asyndeton is mainly used either to praise or to downplay death, which is consonant with a general characteristic of fourth-century epigram, i.e. that of lowering the tone. (e) Names Another feature pointing both to the gradual development of the selfcohesion and autonomy of sepulchral epigrams (which later led to the self-sufficiency of other types of epigrams) is observable in the use of names. My statistics66 (EM: 29 = 18.01% / IM: 82 = 50.93% / EM + IM = 43 _____________ 66

EM stands for extra metrum (designating those epitaphs where the deceased’s name appears only in the extra metrum part), IM for intra metrum (referring to those epitaphs where the deceased’s name is attested only in the intra metrum part), and EM+IM for extra metrum + intra metrum (designating those

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= 26.70%) show that in half of the extant fourth-century Attic epitaphs, the name of the deceased is only given in the grave epigram itself. If we add to IMs the EMs+IMs (43 epigrams), which also include the deceased’s name, then the percentage rises to 77.63% (125 epigrams). In other words, more than three of every four epigrams could stand on their own without the extra metrum part giving the deceased’s name. I have concentrated on Attic practice not only because the number of extant epitaphs is high enough to draw general conclusions, but also because at least one early collection of epigrams (by Philochorus) included only Attic inscribed epitaphs. Moreover, Attica and especially Athens itself offers a great number of private sepulchral inscriptions dating from the classical period, where only the name of the deceased, his patronymic (if the epitaph belonged to a married woman, then also her husband’s name was often given) and toponymic were inscribed on the stone. One can, therefore, see that the authors of fourth-century Attic epitaphs tended (as it is covertly indicated by the dichotomy of the epigraphical space) to ‘separate’ the epitaph from the extra metrum part and turn it into a cohesive, self-sufficient composition. One can even postulate that these are exactly the kinds of epitaphs Philochorus and other early compilers of epigram collections would have found more suitable for their audiences and would have tended to include in their ʻanthologiesʼ, the more so since epigram collections were by definition deprived of the visual dimension of the monument on which the deceased’s name was inscribed. Names are sometimes inscribed only in the extra metrum epigraphical space together with the deceased’s patronymic and deme of origin. There are, though, many more cases where the deceased’s name is also part of the epigram itself. Accommodating names either in the hexameter or more often in the elegiac couplet with its strong dactylo-spondaic structure was not always easy, especially since certain names did not fit the metrical pattern of this kind of verse structure. Sometimes, anonymous composers dealt with this problem by ad hoc inventions, such as the occasional use of the iambic trimeter. Another solution was, in the case of grave epigrams, the use of a practice, which had been also applied to the polyandria, i.e. the dichotomy of the epigraphical space, according to which the epitaph itself was separated from the name, patronymic and dead person’s demotic that _____________ epitaphs where the deceased’s name is given both in the extra metrum and the intra metrum parts).

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were inscribed extra metrum.67 Twenty-nine inscribed Attic epitaphs in an extant corpus of 162 dating from the 4th century mention the deceased’s name only in the extra metrum part and not in the epigram itself.68 The relevant statistics are much smaller in respect of the preceding centuries: the 5th century offers only two examples (CEG 77 and 89).69 We shall first examine cases, where the departedʼs name appears only in the extra metrum section, although some reference is made to it within the intra metrum part. CEG 517 has turned this practice into an elaborate wordplay with the deceased’s name: (i) Eὐκολίνη Ἀντιφάνος. (ii) εὐκολίας ὄνομ’ εἶχεν ἐπώνυμον ἥδε, βίο δὲ | κεῖται ἔχοσ’ ὑπὸ γῆς μοῖραν ἐφ’ ἧιπερ ἔφυ. (i) Eukoline, daughter of Antiphanes. (ii) This woman had a name given in commemoration of her good nature; she lies dead having under the earth the share of life for which she was born.

The use of wordplay based on the deceased’s name appearing in the extra metrum part of the inscription shows that the composer of the epitaph exploited the unmetrical part by virtually turning the beginning of the grave epigram into a ‘comment’. The titulus nomina praebens contains the name Eὐκολίνη, which is not incompatible at all with the dactylo-spondaic form of the elegiac couplet. One can, therefore, argue that the absence of the deceased’s name from the metrical part of the inscription and the subsequent wordplay are the result of the interaction between the two parts of the epigraphical space. CEG 532 is one of the most characteristic examples of the use of nicknames in epitaphs. The deceased’s real name did not present any metrical difficulty, but still it was not included in the metrical inscription:70 _____________ 67 68

69 70

See Fantuzzi (2002) 402-403 = (2004) 296-297. My statistics are slightly different from that of Fantuzzi who refers to 24 cases of this sort: 472 (?), 477, 486, 490 (?), 495 (?), 497 (?), 499 (?), 512, 531, 532, 533, 534, 537, 544, 557, 558, 560, 564, 570, 571, 582 (?), 585, 589, 590, 594, 595, 596, 613, 615 (?), 620 (?), 621. I am following the practice of Fantuzzi (2002) 465 n. 41 = (2004) 295 n. 39, who uses the question mark in the paranthesis to indicate that the metrical text contains lacunae, and so the possibility of the use of a name in the epigram cannot be excluded. Both are from Attica. See Fantuzzi (2002) 401 = (2004) 295. ca. 350?, Piraeus.

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[τὄνο]μ̣α μὲν τὀμὸν καὶ ἐμο̃ πατρὸς ἥδε ἀγορεύ[ει] | [στή]λη καὶ πάτραν· πιστῶν δὲ ἔργων ἕνεκα ἔσχο[ν] | [Πίσ]τος ἐπωνυμίαν, οὗ σπάνις ἀνδρὶ τυχε̃ν. (ii) Πραξῖνος | Tερεία | Aἰγινήτης. (i)

This stele bespeaks my name and my father’s name and my fatherland. On account of my trustworthy deeds I received the nickname Pistos, which is rare for a man to have. (ii) Praxinos, son of Tereias from Aigina.

The interaction between the intra metrum and the extra metrum section is fascinating, albeit different from the Eukoline inscription. The extra metrum part, unlike the Eukoline inscription, is placed after the epitaph. This reshaping of the epigraphical space follows the principle of dichotomy71 between the extra and intra metrum parts but at the same time offers new opportunities to the composer of the grave epigram. Since the ‘cut and dried data’ concerning the deceased will be placed after the epigram, the latter may be exploited both as an intrainscriptional reference to the extra metrum part which follows, and as an opportunity to rival its ‘cut and dried data’. The first one and a half verses of the metrical inscription refer to the extra metrum section and inform the reader that it is in that epigraphical space that he will learn about the deceased’s name, his father’s name and his fatherland (Praxinos, son of Tereias, from Aigina). The remaining part of the epigram presents the reader with the deceased’s nickname, which is explained to him by reference to his past life. This part of the epitaph bears a striking similarity to CEG 525, another of the so-called σπάνιςepitaphs, which represent a form of indirect praise. Both CEG 525 (the Glykera epigram) and CEG 532 (the Pistos epigram) contain, apart from the σπάνις-formula, some form of wordplay. This practice, i.e. where the intra metrum alludes to the extra metrum section either through name-oriented wordplay or nickname explanation has evolved into a device conferring praise, covertly helped by the σπάνις-expression. CEG 564 is a further variation within the same category of extra versus intra metrum interaction:72 (i)

[Φιλ]όστρατος Φιλοξένου. παῖ πατέρος σαυτοῦ πατρὸς ἔχων ὄνομα, καὶ παραμύθιον ἦσθα | παρωνύμιόν τε γονεῦσι

_____________ 71 72

See Fantuzzi (2002) 402 = (2004) 296. ca. 350, Attica.

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Nε˛ολλαρίων, δαίμων δέ σ’ ἀφείλετο πᾶ<σ>ι πο|θεινόν. (i) [Phil]ostratos, son of Philoxenos. (ii) Son, having the name of your father’s father, you were a source of consolation to your parents, (having) the nickname Neollarion. Fate took you away, a man longed for by all.

The deceased, whose real name was Philostratos, was named after his grandfather (Philostratos>Philoxenos>Philostratos). The wordplay is here orchestrated not by the deceased’s real name but by his nickname NεŒολλαρίων, which is etymologized from *Nεόλλος
74

See CEG 564 ad loc. (Masson, private communication to Hansen). I do not agree with Humphreys (19932) 108, who interprets NεŒολλαρίων as ‘chatterbox’. Still, her point that “the reality of the loss brought to the family by death is made vivid by detailed information” is right. Fourth-century memorials are more intimate than their sixth-century predecessors (Humphreys 19932, 108). The term παραμύθιον represents a rather rare case (within the corpus of fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs) of an overt consolatory statement. On consolation literature, see Kassel (1958).

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ἐπώνυμον, i.e. ‘a surname’, ‘a name given in commemoration of someone’, then there was no need for further interpretation. Generally speaking, we are not in a position to know how the process of filling in the necessary details would be done, but we should keep in mind that a reader who was able to see the entire monument as well as nearby monuments was better equipped than us.75 Of particular importance are those extant fourth-century Attic epitaphs, where the name of the deceased appears both extra and intra metrum. This name-repetition in the extra metrum part and the epitaph itself was done for different reasons and aimed at different ends. We shall now proceed to examine a certain number of these cases. In CEG 485, both the real name (Πυθοκλῆς) and the nickname (Σάτυρος) of the deceased are used in the metrical part of the inscription, whereas the extra metrum section contains only the dead man’s real name (Πυθοκλῆς). This grave epigram reads as follows: (i)

ἐνθάδε Π̣υθοκλῆς κεῖται πολλοῖσι ποθενός, | καὶ Σάτυρος νέος ὢν ἔσχεν ἐπωνυμίαν. | [π]αῖς δὲ Ἡρακλείδο, μητρὸς δὲ Ἀριαστίδος ἐστί, | πατρὶς δ᾽ ἐστὶ Ἔφεσος κλενοτάτη πόλεων. | θρεφθὲς δ᾽ ἐν χθονὶ τῆιδ᾽ ἔθανεν μέγα πῆμα φίλοισι[ι] | τῆι τε κασιγνήτηι πένθεα πλεῖστα λιπών. (ii) Ἀριαστίς. Πυθοκλῆς.

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(i)

Here lies Pythokles who is longed for by many people and at his youth was called Satyros. He is the son of Herakleides, his mother is Ariastis, and his fatherland Ephesus, the most glorious of cities. Having being raised in this land here, he died leaving great pain to his friends and the greatest mourning to his sister. (ii) Ariastis. Pythokles.

Unlike CEG 517 where the entire epigram was based on the interaction between the extra metrum and the intra metrum part, in this case only the beginning of the metrical inscription is devoted to the same purpose. The remaining four verses of the epitaph refer to Pythokles’ parents, his native land Ephesus, his upbringing in Athens, and last but not least to the grief his death caused to his friends and to his sister. Given that the extra metrum part contains the name of the deceased’s mother (Ἀριαστίς) and that Pythokles (Πυθοκλῆς) has been _____________ 75

For CEG 592, see chapter 2. For the importance of nearby monuments, see Fantuzzi (2002) 405 = (2004) 299.

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inscribed below the picture carved on the stone (probably featuring mother and son), it may be argued that both the deceased’s real name and his nickname are not used as narrative devices to be developed in the epigram proper. Since the extra metrum part functions like a caption to the inscribed picture, the mention of Pythokles’ name in the metrical inscription is not repetitious at all. In fact, it follows the basic pattern of numerous grave epigrams beginning with a formula designating that ‘person X is buried here’. The addition of the detail about the nickname Satyros is awkward, for nicknames of this sort (Σιληνός, Σάτυρος, Σιλανίων, Σατυρίδης, Σατυρίσκος) were used to indicate ugliness. It seems hardly likely that such a derogatory comment would be contained in somebody’s epitaph. The only possible explanation is that such a nickname may have been connected with the cult of Dionysus, in which Pythokles might have been actively involved in his youth (νέος ὤν).76 In other cases, there is no effort at all to ‘narratively exploit’ the name of the deceased in the intra metrum part of the inscription.77 Of all these epigrams, those without the deceased’s name in the intra metrum section were more likely to be excerpted, since they could be easily reused and diffused. Philochorus’ early collection of Ἐπιγράμματα Ἀττικά and later on Polemon’s Περὶ τῶν κατὰ πόλεις ἐπιγραμμάτων may, as it has been brilliantly suggested,78 have contained such epigrams, which ‘broke free’ from their unmetrical extra metrum accompaniment and influenced early, at least, Hellenistic epigrammatists. Those containing the deceased’s name in their metrical part, despite being apt only for a specific person, have exercised a different form of influence. They offer a good example for incorporating the deceased’s name into the epigram, which was, needless to say, a conditio sine qua non for the literary epigram of the Hellenistic period that had disposed of the stone and replaced it with the papyrus roll. The use of ὦ in vocatives undergoes a slight decrease in the 4th century and in some authors drops significantly. It is employed only five times in the extant corpus of fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs. Twice it precedes a personified non-human entity (467: ˻ὦ Xρόν˼ε; 591.5: ὦ πολύκλαυθ’ Ἅιδη), twice the bereaved relatives and friends (CEG 520.4: ὦ φίλοι ἡμέτεροι; 591.9: ὦ μελέα μῆτερ καὶ ὁμαίμονες), and only once the deceased’s name (CEG 515: ὦ ... Φαν̣[Ó  Ó Ó]). Conversely, there are 38 vocatives without ὦ in our extant corpus _____________ 76 77 78

For the use of this sort of nicknames, see Hug, RE s.v. ‘Spitznamen’. See e.g. CEG 559; 567; 568; 569; 603; 604; 606. Fantuzzi (2002) 403 and n. 47 = (2004) 297 and n. 45.

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referring mainly to the deceased by his/her name. The low percentage of kinship terms (KT)79 and their ‘replacement’ by first names (FN) partly stems from the tendency to quote the deceased’s name in the metrical part of the inscription. At the same time they indicate that the anonymous composer of the epitaph aimed at making the epigram suitable for reading, hence he assumed the point of view of the reader. Patronymics or vocatives with the father’s name in the genitive convey affection and/or respect, KTs intimacy,80 expressions of pity sympathy, and friendship terms friendly feelings.81 There is only one82 surviving fourth-century Attic grave epigram containing an address to a passer-by, who (as is the case with archaic grave epigrams and with Hellenistic literary epigrams) is asked to stop and read the stone. When an address is used it should be expected at the beginning of the metrical inscription.83 Vocatives with ὦ are placed either at the beginning of a grave epigram or at a point where there is a thematic shift. In CEG 591.5 and 591.9 the vocatives ὦ πολύκλαυθ’ Ἅιδη and ὦ μελέα μῆτερ καὶ ὁμαίμονες are positioned at the beginning of the second and third part of the epigram, each part consisting of two elegiac couplets. On the other hand, there is a significant number of epitaphs having the vocative of a name not preceded by ὦ or an indefinite address (CEG 597: ξένε)84 placed somewhere in the intra metrum text. A general observation can be made: when a vocative without ὦ is placed (and this refers to the majority of cases) in a position other than the beginning of the metrical inscription or of one of its parts, it has a special function depending on the context. Fraenkel has rightly argued that intra-sentential vocatives separate either clauses or other basic elements of the sentence and that they are often placed next to _____________ 79 80 81 82 83

84

I am hereby using the abbreviations of Dickey (1996). On intimacy in fourth-century epitaphs, see Humphreys (19932) 108. Dickey (1996) 247-248. CEG 597. In CEG 492, the passers-by are addressed but they are not asked to pay attention to the stone and/or read the inscription. The postponement of the vocative after the first verse is not at all frequent in grave epigrams dating from the archaic and early classical periods. CEG I contains only 10 examples with vocatives, five of which are placed at epitaph-initial position and five either later on in the first verse (19, 50, 95) when the deceased is addressed by his FN (first name) or in the third verse (97). This last epigram (CEG 97) is the only surviving Attic grave epigram of the archaic and early classical periods (8th-5th centuries) where, an FN vocative is postponed until the third verse. For ξένε, see Dickey (1996) 146-149.

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a word or phrase of special weight.85 When the epigram begins with a second person possessive pronoun (CEG 491: σῆς ἀρετῆς μνημ<εῖ>α, | Θεοφίλη, οὔποτε λήσει; 511: σῆς ἀρετῆς ἕστηκεν ἐν Ἑλλάδι | πλεῖστα τρόπαια / ... /, Nικόβ|ολε, ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς...; 603: σῆς ἀρετῆς, Nικοπτολέμη, χρόνος οὔποτε λ[ύ]σει), then the vocative address is postponed for later on. In CEG 491 and 603, the placement of the vocative within the formula ‘time or this memorial will not erase your arete’, gives a tone of affection, since it personalizes for the reader the rather impersonal generalization expressed by the formula. In this way, the composer of the epitaph covertly implies to the reader that he is confronted with the monument and epitaph of a single person: the universality of death becomes heavily particularized. In CEG 511, the postponement of the vocative-address is prolonged and when the deceased’s name finally appears in the vocative, it is accompanied by what seems to be another vocative expression in apposition (ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς) but is in fact the object of ἔλιπες. This insertion indicates the completion of the first MCF (‘main-clause-finite-verb unit’) of the epitaph and the beginning of the second. The splitting of the sense-unit ἔλιπες ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς in two parts, with the verb ἔλιπες at verse end, and ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς in the next verse, as if it were in apposition to the vocative Nικόβολε, creates a syntactical and semantic illusion for the reader: the second part can be heard as being in apposition to Nikobolos, who becomes, albeit temporally, ‘the shining light of the sun’ (ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς).86 In CEG 543, the postponement of the FN vocative of the deceased to the second verse (Λυσάνδρου Πιθέως | Ἀρχεστράτη ἔγγονε) almost duplicates the extra metrum part (εἰμὶ δὲ Λυσάνδρου | Πιθέως Ἀρχεστράτη ἥδε), which is placed at the very end of a ten-line inscription. In this way, the deceased is first ‘introduced’ to the reader in the most formal and august manner. This exclamatory proem87 is more often employed in Attic inscribed grave epigrams dating from the 8th to the end of the 5th century but only when a group of people, not a single individual, is addressed. Moreover, it is always placed at epitaph-initial position. Conversely, in the only two cases where a group of people is addressed in fourthcentury Attic inscribed epitaphs, the vocative is placed at either verse- or epitaph-initial position (CEG 492 and 520). The decrease of plural vocatives in the 4th century mainly stems from the decrease of _____________ 85 86 87

Fraenkel (1965) 30. See also the analysis in chapter 2. See Fantuzzi (2002) 399-400 = (2004) 293-294.

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polyandria. As far as the address to the deceased’s friends or passers-by is concerned, the data concerning the period preceding the 4th century are not particularly important, since epitaph-initial plural vocatives in 8th-5th century Attic grave epigrams refer to the deceased (CEG 4 and 5). It may well be the case that by placing plural vocatives designating an indefinite group of people at verse- or epitaph-initial position, the composer aimed at addressing as general a readership as possible.88 This is the case with CEG 520, where generalizing and philosophical views are presented to the reader in an effort to reach out to a wide audience of future passers-by.89 In CEG 487 the address to a group of indefinite and anonymous passers-by is placed at the beginning of the last verse, forming a nice ring with the generalized,90 gnomic statement of the first verse: πάντων ἀνθρώπων νόμος ἐ|στὶ κοινὸς τὸ ἀποθανε̃ν. Thus, the beginning and end of the epitaph reach out to a future audience of passers-by, whereas the inner part of the epigram (verses 2-3) furnishes the reader with the details concerning the deceased’s life. (f) The Interplay between Speaker and Addressee One of the most intriguing aspects concerning the transmission of the message from the inscribed stone to any future reader concerns the interplay between speaker and addressee. Following Peek’s classification, with the addition of the category of ‘anonymous mourner’, I hereby offer statistics concerning the speaker-addressee situation in grave epigrams from Attica (8th-4th centuries BCE). Table: Attic Inscribed Grave Epigrams (Private) Spea ker -Addre ss e inter pla y Presentation of the deceased or the monument Report of the death-situation (interment, funeral) I-style Address forms

_____________ 88 89 90

Meyer (2005) 233. See Chapter 2 ad CEG 520. See Meyer (2005) 90-91.

8 th -5 th c entu ries 50=47.61%

4 th ce ntur y

5=4.76%

20=12.34%

2=1.90% 13=12.38%

2=1.23% 23=14.19%

51=31.48%

Narrative Development and Poetic Technique Spea ker -Addre ss e inter pla y Dialogue Generalizing comments Various forms Total

8 th -5 th c entu ries 0 3=2.85% 7=6.66% 80 91

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4 th ce ntur y 3=1.85% 33=20.37% 2=1.23% 134 92

The above table shows that whereas between the archaic and early classical period on the one hand and the 4th century on the other, there is a significant decrease regarding the presentation of the deceased or the funerary monument, other forms of speaker-addressee communication undergo a remarkable increase. In the 4th century, details about the event of death or the funeral are more often reported, and a tendency for generalizing comments becomes one of the main forms of speaker-addressee interplay. Address forms (advice, warning, greetings) display almost the same rate of occurrence, and finally, dialogue begins to be used even within the context of epigrams, which also show features belonging to the aforementioned categories (such as address forms or generalizing comments). With the exception of generalizing statements, which have been treated in detail in chapter 1, I will examine each one of the other categories by focusing on a single epitaph from each class, in an attempt to show some of the kinds of changes taking place in fourth-century Attic epitaphs. (f1) Presentation of the Deceased or the Monument (CEG 529)93 πένθος κοριδίωι τε πόσει καὶ μητρὶ λιπο̃σα | καὶ πατρὶ τῶι φύσαντι Πολυξένη ἐνθάδε κεῖται. Polyxene is buried here, who left mourning to her wedded husband and her mother and her father who gave birth to her.

The epitaph informs the reader about the fact that this is the monument of Polyxene. The pain of the relatives is just mentioned through _____________ 91

92

93

There are also 12 Attic polyandria and 13 mutilated grave epigrams, which give the total number of 105 sepulchral epitaphs for Attica of the archaic and early classical periods (CEG I). For a detailed list with the classification of the speech-act in all Attic epitaphs, see Table 1 at the end of the book. If one adds the 4 polyandria and the 24 fragmentary grave epigrams, then the total is 162 (CEG 466-626 and ΣΕΜΑ 821) for fourth-century Attica. ca. 360-350 BCE, Attica.

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the formulaic λείπω + acc. of thing + dat. of person. Grave epigrams of this type do not differ from their archaic or early classical predecessors, the more so since laconic compositions implicitly allude to the need to memorialize the particular individual who has been buried at a given place. Even the biographical details offered here are kept to the minimum and creativity is markedly absent. (f2) Report of the Death-Situation (CEG 554)94 (i) ἑπτὰ βίου δεκάδας πᾶσιν φίλος οὐθένα | λυπῶν σωφροσύνης τε ἀρετῆς τε δικαιο|σύνης τε μετασχὼν τῆς κοινῆς μοίρας πᾶ|σιν ἔχω τὸ μέρος. (ii) [Nomen defuncti]. (i)

After having caused grief to nobody, since I was dear to all during the seventy years of my life, and after having partaken of sophrosyne and arete and justice, I have my share in the fate that is common to all. (ii) [Name of the deceased].

The aim of the epitaph is to report the event of death. This time the expression is oriented to the deceased, not to the monument. The dead man, whose name was inscribed below the epigram but is not visible any more, is presented as having experienced what is common to all humans (including the future readers of the epigram). The absence of any word indicating death (verb or noun) and the use of the same ‘idea’ for both the virtues the deceased had during his lifetime and for the event of death itself (μετασχών, ἔχω τὸ μέρος) aims at a fictive assimilation between life and death. The reader is thus ‘invited’ to interpret the event of death in the light of a good life that the deceased had experienced. (f3) The ‘I-Style’ (CEG 473) (iii) μάντεος ἐντίμο μάντιν σοφόν, ἄνδρα δίκαιον, | κρύπτω Mειδοτέλος ἐνθάδε Kαλλιτέλην.

12

(iii) An honored seer’s son, (who was) a wise seer himself and a just man, Kalliteles, son of Meidoteles, I conceal in this place.

_____________ 94

ca. 350?, Eleusis.

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The use of the ‘I-style’ indicates that the whole communicative process is seen as an oral speech-act. This form of speaker-addressee interplay has been coined an ‘unself-conscious metonymy’ or a ‘selfconscious conceit’.95 By employing this type of prosopopoeia,96 the composer of the epitaph is able to stage and dramatize the entire speech-act.97 The metonymical ‘I’ is a stylistic means by which the reader can be more effectively placed within the communicative situation enhanced by the grave monument and the inscription. By introducing a personified speaker in the first person, the composer of the epitaph invites the passer-by and reader of the grave epigram to confront the nameless speaking voice by getting involved in the communication process. This type of first-person deixis triggers the expression of a second person deictic response. If every ‘I’ implies a ‘You’, then the function of the speaking ‘I’ either in the persona of the deceased or in the monument’s propria persona aims at making the reader become the ‘You’ who would receive the epitaph’s message. Thus, when the passer-by read the personified monument’s speaking ‘I’, he would have recognized himself as the other end of the communicative spectrum, i.e. as a reader. (f3.1) First-Person Mourner One interesting sub-category of the ‘I-style’ is the anonymous firstperson mourner, where the ‘I’ is not the monument or the deceased but some nameless ego, as in CEG 470: Aὐτοκλείδο τό|δε σε̃μα νέο π|ροσορο̃ν ἀν|ιο̃μαι καὶ θα|νάτοι ταυτ̣[.]|α.[. . . . 7-8. . . .| ―― (|――)]. While looking at this very sema of Autokleides, I grieve and to his death …

The anonymous first-person mourner is undoubtedly the most striking feature of this epigram. The obvious problem concerns the identity of the ‘speaking I’. It has been argued that this anonymous first_____________ 95

96 97

Pelliccia (1995) 52-53 n. 85. On inscriptional ‘I’-speeches, see Webster (1954) 10-21; Ebert (1972) 21; Kassel (1983) 1-12; Day (1989) 24 ff.; Cassio (1994) 101117; Meyer (2005) 71 n. 178. On this figure of speech, see Lausberg (19983) 411-413 (§§ 826-829). See Meyer (2005) 71-72.

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person mourner is someone of the deceased’s relatives or friends who would have uttered a formal lament.98 A polyandrion from Ambracia 99 ἄνδρας [τ]ούσδ’ [ἐ]λοὺς ὀλοφύρομαι… (v. 1); … ἴστε, πολῖτα<ε>ι (v. 9) supports this view, since the address to the citizens makes it clear that the ‘speaking I’ is one of them.100 At the same time, the very performance of the epitaph by a future passer-by would necessarily result in the convergence between the anonymous relative or friend of the deceased and the fictive reader.101 In fact, every single reader of the epitaph would have played the role of the first-person mourner. Performance context (concerning the epitaph’s reading) and writing (concerning the inscription as script) are harmoniously orchestrated in order to make the narrative aspect of the epigram function as a ‘dramatic’ text,102 whose central idea is a speech-act reenacted by every future passer-by, who stops and reads the epitaph aloud.103 (f4) Address Forms (CEG 604)104 (i) Kλεαγόρα Φιλέου Mελ[ιτέως γυνή]. (ii) εἰς φῶς παῖδ’ ἀνάγουσα βίου φάος ἤν[υσας αὐτή], | Kλεαγόρα, πλείστης σωφροσύνης [μέτοχος], | ὥστε γονεῦσιν πέν̣θ̣ος ἀγήρατον̣ [λίπες Ó Ó]· | ἐσθλῶν [Ó Ô˘Ô Ó Ó  Ó  Ó]. (iii) Φιλέας | Φιλάγρου | Μελιτεύς.

4

(i) Kleagora, wife of Phileas, from the deme of Melite. (ii) While bringing your child to light you finished the light of your own life, Kleagora. You had your share of the utmost sophrosyne, so that you left unaging mourning to your parents…

_____________ 98 99 100 101 102 103

104

See Lewis (1987) 188; Day (1989) 26-27; Cassio (1994) 109; Meyer (2005) 78-79. SEG 41, 540A. See also D’Alessio (1995) 22-26. For the view that threnodic elegy had influenced such first-person lament expressions, see Page (1972) 392-421. Meyer (2005) 79. For another relevant example, see CEG 43 and Hansen (1974) 159-160. Day (1989) 26. See also CEG 51: οἰκτίρο προσορο̃[ν] | παιδὸς τόδε σε̃μα | θανόντος ´ / Σμικύθ[ο] | hός τε φίλον ὄλεσε|ν ἔλπ’ (sic) ἀγαθέν (I grieve, when I see this very sema of a youth who is dead, Smikythos, who destroyed the good hope of his friends). For the indicative οἰκτίρο instead of the imperative οἴκτιρο<ν>, see Hansen’s commentary in CEG 470, in which he follows Matthaiou (1986) and Lewis (1987) pace his earlier view (before the first publication of CEG 470) that was expressed in CEG 51. 4th century ?, Attica.

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of noble… (iii) Phileas, son of Philagros, from the deme of Melite.

Address forms have not been divided in this analysis (as well as in the statistics offered in the beginning of this section) between those referring to the deceased and those referring to the reader. The above example is typical for fourth-century Athens, where there is only one105 grave epigram containing a second person singular address to the passer-by. The situation is completely reversed when the comparison is made with the archaic and early classical periods. CEG I contains a significant number of epitaphs, where the passer-by addressed in the second person is invited by the implied speaking voice either of the dead (if there is a first-person pronoun) or of the monument (if the deceased is mentioned in the third person) to stop and lament. Conversely, in fourth-century Athens the address to the deceased occurs 22 times. The second-person address plays a significantly different role under these communicative circumstances: by anticipating the future reading aloud of the epitaph, the anonymous composers shifted the direction of the address from deceased/monument-passerby106 in the archaic and early classical periods to passer-by/readerdeceased in the 4th century. The earlier emotional call to the reader and the direct demands made on him by the use of imperatives are replaced in the 4th century by the reenactment of a fictive moment of the funerary ritual, where some relative or friend would have addressed the deceased. The tradition of the ritual lament comes easily to mind, the more so since the reader addresses the dead and the invitation to read the epitaph is turned into a mimicking of the funeral dirge. Through the very performance of the grave epigram, the fictive passer-by becomes a mourner and the most solemn part of the funeral, the lamentation of the dead, is endlessly reiterated each time a stranger reads the epitaph aloud. (f5) Dialogue The three extant examples from fourth-century Athens show that the technique of the dialogue107 is used in two distinct ways, i.e. as (a) a _____________ 105 106

107

CEG 597 (where a ξένος is addressed). On the apostrophe to the passer-by, see Lattimore (1942) 230-236; Willemsen (1963) 119-121; Day (1989) 17-20; Sourvinou-Inwood (1995a) 174-179; Bing (2002) 39-66; Tonini (2003) 62-78; Meyer (2005) 65-68. See Meyer (2005) 83-88.

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‘question-answer’ device giving the necessary information to an ignorant reader; (b) as a conversation situated at the grave between the deceased and another person, related to the departed, who is aware of certain details pertaining to the deceased’s past life. The focus is, in both categories, on the reader with whom the epitaph is in direct communication. The use of the dialogue as a stylistic technique shows that the dramatic staging of the event of reading the inscription lies at the heart of the concept of the inscribed epigram, whose chiselling on stone and public exposition covertly shows that it ‘waits’ to be read. (f5.1) Question-Answer Device In the first category (CEG 545), the epitaph not only supplies the passer-by with the information concerning the deceased, but also records the reader’s attempt to find out about this information: ὀστέα μὲν καὶ σάρκας | ἔ{ι}χει χθὼν παῖδα τὸν ἡ|δύν, ψυχὴ δὲ εὐσεβέων | οἴχεται εἰς θάλαμον. vv | εἰ δὲ ὄνομα ζητεῖς, Θεογείτ|ων Θυμόχου παῖς Θηβα|ῖος γενεὰν κε̃μα<ι> κλειν|αῖς ἐν Ἀθήνα|ις. As far as the bones and the flesh are concerned, the earth holds a sweet child. His soul has gone into the chamber of the pious ones. If you are looking for his name, it is I, Theogeiton, the son of Thymochos who lies in glorious Athens, though a Theban by origin.

The epitaph begins with some general remarks concerning the different fate of the soul vs the body. The disclosure of eschatological beliefs represents the outer semantic ring of the epigram. Conversely, verses 3-4 mark a rather abrupt change from the third to the second person, in an attempt to reveal the identity of the deceased to the passer-by standing in front of the monument in the future. The successive appositional nominatives pile up one after the other, giving the dead man’s name, patronymic and city of origin. The dialogic element is here employed in its rather standard form, i.e as a technique emanating from the need to turn the passer-by into a reader.

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(f5.2) Grave-Situated Conversation In the second category of dialogic style, the author-executor of the epitaphs almost reflects in his metrical composition the external framework of the speaker-addressee communication. The epigrams themselves allow the deceased to respond to their being read aloud. In CEG 512, this response becomes self-referential as the second speaker (lines 4-5) impicitly reveals that his addressee and first speaker (lines 2-4) is his dead mother, whose grave lies nearby. The place where the graves are placed becomes the dramatic setting for the staging, via epitaph, of the communicative process of epigram reading: (i) Tηλέμαχος | Σπου̣δοκράτος | Φλυεύς. (ii) ὢ τὸν ἀειμνήστου σ’ ἀρετᾶς παρὰ πᾶσι πολίταις | κλεινὸν ἔπαινον ἔχοντ’ ἄνδρα ποθεινότατον | παισὶ φίλει τε γυναικί. — τάφο δ’ ἐπὶ δεξιά, μῆτερ, | κεῖμαι σῆς φιλίας οὐκ ἀπολειπόμενος. (iii) Ἱερόκλεια | Ὀψιάδου | ἐξ Oἴου.

4

(i) Telemachos, son of Spoudokrates, from Phlya. (ii) Oh man having won among all citizens for your always-remembered virtue a famous praise and being very much longed for by your children and wife. On the right side of your grave, mother, I lie, not having being forsaken of your love. (iii) Hierokleia, daughter of Opsiades, from Oion.

The epitaph begins with an exclamation praising the deceased but it is only in the middle of the third verse that the identity of the speaker is revealed. The generalizing comments and standardized language of this first part are surprisingly interrupted by the introduction of another speaker, who is none else than the dead man himself addressing his mother. This surprising shift of speaker is followed by an even more remarkable disclosure: the person addressed by the deceased, i.e. his mother, is also dead and the son’s grave has been placed on the right of his mother’s. Therefore, it is only at the end of the epigram through the use of an ἀπροσδόκητον that the reader comes to realize the entire staging of the speaker-addressee interplay. The epitaph invites the passer-by to recreate a whole dramatic setting, making a step forward in the use of the dialogue-technique: the realization that the first speaker is the dead mother is made possible only when the second speaker is disclosed, i.e only when the epitaph makes a nearby-lying deceased become the fictive reader of its first part. Viewed from this vantage point, the monument itself and the whole

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placement of the graves further reinforce the self-reflexivity of the epigram.108 In CEG 530, the dialogue technique is also employed between a female deceased and her husband:109 χαῖρε τάφος Mελίτης· χρηστ|ὴ γυνὴ ἐνθάδε κεῖται· v φιλοῦντα | ἀντιφιλοῦσα τὸν ἄνδρα Ὀνήσιμ|ον ἦσθα κρατίστη· v τοιγαροῦν ποθεῖ | θανοῦσάν σε, ἦσθα γὰρ χρηστὴ γυνή. v Ó | καὶ σὺ χαῖρε φίλτατ’ ἀνδρῶν, ἀλλὰ | τοὺς ἐμοὺς φίλει. Hail, grave of Melite; a good woman lies here. By loving your husband Onesimos in response to his love, you were the best. He therefore longs for you, now that you died, for you were a good woman. Hail, you too, dearest man, and love my own.

The epitaph begins with an address to the grave of a deceased female, Melite. The introduction is formulaic containing the standard expression ‘here lies’ (ἐνθάδε κεῖται) in the third person. The second verse marks a return to the initial address to the grave since it refers to the deceased in the second person. In the third verse the second person is also used, but in the first part the subject and notional center is the husband, not the deceased wife any more. In the last verse, the epitaph ‘gives voice’ to the deceased Melite, who ‘replies’ to what has been said before by addressing her husband. In this way, the composer of the epigram invites his fictive reader to assume that the speaker in the ‘second person’ verbs of the previous three verses is Melite’s husband.110 The use of the dialogue as a stylistic technique is grounded on the author’s desire to play with the fictitious orality of the epitaph’s reception by a passer-by. In particular, as far as fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs are concerned, the use of the dialogue displays a sensitivity pointing to the epigram’s subliterariness, since the passerby ‘assumes’ the roles suggested to him by the fictive interlocutors within the inscription. In this way, he is no longer just a passive reader but an active performer of the epitaph. He is transformed into the very means by which the epitaph is orally rechristened every time it is read, i.e. every time the conversational situation dictionally expressed in these verses becomes alive again. This dialogic function becomes all the more important for the history of the epigrammatic _____________ 108 109 110

Meyer (2005) 87. ca. 365-340, Piraeus. See Meyer (2005) 86.

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genre, when placed next to the self-imposing role ʻundertakenʼ by the funerary monument in the literary epigrams of the Hellenistic period with respect to the utterance of a given message. In the words of Fantuzzi, “from the third and the second centuries BC on … we also find a different form of dialogic dramatization, which does not transform the moment of vision and reading into a dialogue between the passerby and the dead, but merely translates the act of reading by the passer-by into an act of listening; the message written on the monument is now pronounced by the monument itself. This form of presentation presupposes and, as it were, transforms into a narrative monologue the previous convention of true dialogue, leaving the responsibility for the message still with the inscription and/or the dead.”111

The Poetic Grammar of the Epitaph In this section I will thoroughly examine the diction, style and meter of fourth-century Attic epitaphs. This topic has not yet attracted the attention it deserves, despite the early efforts of Allen112 and Gragg, 113 who have systematically studied the meter and language (respectively) of those Greek verse inscriptions available to them at the time. Since then, the only detailed study of this topic that has come to my knowledge is the forthcoming article of Bowie on early Greek metrical inscriptions, in which he examines in detail certain narrative techniques employed by the early epigrammatists taking into account dictional and metrical issues.114 (a) Diction In regard to diction, my focus will be on epic and tragic vocabulary, on features which cannot be attributed to the influence of any particular genre, on the frequency of compound epithets, and last but not least on the influence of the language of decrees and dedicatory inscriptions. _____________ 111 112 113 114

Fantuzzi (2002) 418 = (2004) 311. Allen (1888). Gragg (1910) 3-62. I am indebted to E. Bowie for making available to me an early version of his work, long before publication.

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(a1) Epic Vocabulary In fourth-century epigram (both Attic and non-Attic) epic vocabulary gradually decreases, whereas tragic diction is all the more often employed. Understandably enough, this tendency is more marked at Athens due to the higher production of tragic plays. Relics of epic diction still survive either in the form of reminiscences of formulaic verses and expressions or in the form of simple words. Certain verses or expressions have been based on their epic predecessors. CEG 519.3115 reading ἀμφότερον μάντιν τε ἀγαθὸν καὶ δορὶ μά̣[χεσθαι] reflects Pind. Olymp. 6.17 (ἀμφότερον μάντιν τ’ ἀγαθὸν καὶ δουρὶ μάρνασθαι) and to a less extent Il. 3.179 (ἀμφότερον βασιλεύς τ’ ἀγαθὸς κρατερός τ’ αἰχμητής) and Hes. fr. 25.37 Merkelbach-West (ὅς ῥ ἀγαθὸς μὲν ἔην ἀγορῆι, ἀγαθὸς δὲ μάχεσθαι). According to Asclepiades, Pindar’s ancient scholiast, Olymp. 6.17 has been taken from the cyclic epic Thebais (fr. 10 PEG 1 = 7 EGF) and one is, therefore, tempted to assume that the Boeotian poet had subsequently changed μάχεσθαι into μάρνασθαι for metrical reasons.116 Conversely, Wilamowitz117 and Robert118 had argued that the Thebais must have contained a verse reading ἀμφότερον μάντιν τ’ ἀγαθὸν κρατερόν τ’ αἰχμητήν, which had influenced Il. 3.179 (ἀμφότερον βασιλεύς τ’ ἀγαθὸς κρατερός τ’ αἰχμητής). This hypothesis is further reinforced by the fact that the syntax with two paratactically linked accusatives is much more smooth than that of an accusative in parataxis with an infinitive of respect (ἀμφότερον μάντιν τ’ ἀγαθὸν καὶ δουρὶ μάρνασθαι). If this argumentation is correct, then the epigrammatist must have derived this verse from Pindar and not from the cyclic Thebais.119 Modern editors of Greek epic fragments have not welcomed the thesis of Wilamowitz and Robert. Bernabé (PEG 1) prints the verse as follows: ἀμφότερον μάντιν τ’ ἀγαθὸν καὶ δουρὶ μάχεσθαι. On the other hand, Davies (EGF) more carefully acknowledges his ignorance about what the poet of the Thebais had actually written (‘quid dixerit poeta noster incertum’). Given that the end of the last word (μά̣[χεσθαι] or μα[χητήν]?) is missing from the stone, one can hardly decide about what would have been inscribed in the first place. If the _____________ 115 116 117 118 119

For the eagle holding a snake (as in Il. 12.201 ff.) and the link between seermantic vision and snakes, see Papademetriou (1957) 158-159. Cf. scholia vetera (ΣA) ad Pind. Olymp. 6.15 ff. (1.160, 5 Drachmann): ποθέω· ὁ Ἀσκληπιάδης φησὶ ταῦτα εἰληφέναι ἐκ τῆς κυκλικῆς Θηβαΐδος. (1886) 163-164 n. 4. (1915) 247-251 (see also 90 n. 170). See Papademetriou (1957) 160.

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infinitive is to be restored, I am rather inclined to believe that Pindar had altered the last word of a verse of the Theban epic and that his ancient scholiast, Asclepiades, was not erring when he said that the line praising Amphiaraus was directly taken from the cyclic Thebais. At any case, one cannot exclude the possibility that the composer of this epitaph had in mind both Pindar and the Thebais. He certainly knew the Iliad quite well, as it can be ascertained from his quoting with some changes Il. 2.547 (δῆμον Ἐρεχθῆος μεγαλήτορος, ὅν ποτ’ Ἀθήνη) in lines 4-5 (ὅν ποτ’ Ἐρεχθέ̄ω ς μεγαλήτορος ?ἐ̣σ̣τ̣ε̣φ̣ά[νωσε] | / δῆμος ἀριστεύσαντα …). In fact, this last loan shows that the epitaph’s composer knew a text of the Iliad containing the spurious verses 2.547-551, which (as West argues) may well have been inserted in the Iliadic text in sixth-century Athens. He had, therefore, made slight changes by shifting in his grave epigram the positions of δῆμον and ὅν ποτ’ of his Iliadic original. Since we know for sure that Kleobolos, son of Glaukos, to whom this epitaph is addressed was a rather famous man (uncle of the famous orator Aeschines, he had taken part in the Corinthian war with Demainetos against Cheilon the Lacedaimonian),120 then it is all the more likely that special care might have been shown by his family in respect of the erection and decoration of his stele, as well as to the epitaph composed in his memory. Like the artist who sculpted an eagle carrying a snake under the influence of a famous Iliadic scene with well-known mantic connotations, the composer of the epitaph seems to have been well versed in poetry. In this conception, he may have had in mind a wealth of poems, the Iliad, the Thebais, Pindar’s 6th Olympian, and the myth of the seer Amphiaraus who triggered in his thought a whole set of associations.121 In CEG 572, the epic framework of the epitaph makes the use of epic diction quite predictable. It is explicitly stated that the deceased stems from Pylaemenes’ pedigree, and it is this ancestor who is subsequently introduced to the fictive audience of the inscription in a purely epic coloring (Ἀχιλλῆος χειρὶ δαμεὶς ἔθανεν). Surprisingly enough, Pylaemenes, king of the Paphlagonians is killed in Il. 5.576579 by Menelaus, not by Achilles. The latter version is offered by Dictys Cretensis (Ephem. 3.5), whereas Cornelius Nepos (Datames 2.2) narrates that Pylaemenes was killed by Patroclus. CEG 572 is a witness ex _____________ 120 121

See Aeschin. On the Embassy (2) 78. For a detailed presentation of this Kleobolos, see Papademetriou (1957) 160-162. The formulaic γαῖα καλύπτει and the representation of Erechtheus as a snake (as well as his mantic abilities) are nicely orchestrated around the basic theme, i.e. the death of the seer Kleobolos.

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silentio of the textual problems related to Homeric epic. In the Iliad Pylaemenes is an ally of the Trojans (2.851), he is killed by Menelaus (5.576-579), but later on (13.658) he laments the death of his son Harpalion. This was considered by a number of scholars as a non sequitur.122 As far as CEG 572 is concerned, there was probably a postHomeric but early (before the 4th century BCE) tradition, according to which Achilles killed Pylaemenes. It is this tradition that the author of CEG 572 is following, a tradition later reflected in texts as that of Dictys Cretensis (Ephem. 3.5: Achilles Pylaemenem Paphlygonum regem comminus fundit).123 The expression ἧς γαίας τηλοῦ (572.3) is not attested per se in Homeric epic but all its constituent members are: the possesive use of the relative ὅς, the adverb τηλόθεν + γαίης (Il. 1.270; Od. 7.25).124 Other elements of epic diction are the adverbial use of the preposition ἀπό (Πόντου ἀπ’ Eὐξείνου) meaning ‘away from’, the epithet μεγάθυμος, the uncontracted genitive Πυλαιμένεος instead of the Attic form Πυλαιμένους. CEG 578.7 (οὗ καὶ ἀπὸ [γλώσης μέλιτος] γλυκίων ῥέ[εν αὐδή]) offers an example of the use of whole verses taken from the Homeric epics. In order to praise the deceased’s eloquence and verbal ability as a tragic poet, the composer of the epitaph has used a formulaic line (Il. 1.249: τοῦ καὶ ἀπὸ γλώσσης μέλιτος γλυκίων ῥέεν αὐδή) employed for Nestor, one of the most eloquent Homeric speakers. He was probably quoting the verse from memory, but this is not necessarily the reason for the replacement of the epic τοῦ by the Attic relative pronoun οὗ. The intrusion of atticized forms of this sort had already taken place and so one can maintain that this was in fact the only text (i.e. with the Attic οὗ) known to the anonymous composer of this grave epigram.125 The expression ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς (CEG 511.4) is a variant of the Homeric λαμπρόν φάος ἠελίοιο (Il. 1. 605), but the function of the two _____________ 122

123

124

125

For this controversy which goes back to the time of Aristophanes of Byzantium and Aristarchus, see Lauffer (19792) 201; Janko (1992) 126 ad 13.643659 with all the relevant bibliography. On the survival of the memory of Pylaemenes among the Paphlagonians, see Lauffer (19792) 200-202; Radke, RE s.v. ‘Pylaimenes’. Paphlagonian kings used for themselves the name Pylaemenes. The Homeric genitive γαίης is never attested in fourth-century epigrams but it is found in metrical inscriptions (e.g. IG II2 13138.7). The most common form is γαίας. See Threatte (1996) 65, who rightly observes that all the surviving examples of γαῖα are metrical. For the form γλώτης, which must have been carved by the person who inscribed the epigram, see CEG 578 ad loc.

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expressions is quite different. In respect of the epigram’s diction, the substitution of the epic genitive in -οιο by the Attic ending in –ου (inscribed as a long ο) on the one hand, and the use of the Attic contracted φῶς instead of the uncontracted Ionic φάος results in the necessary change of the expression’s internal word order. The Homeric phrase is placed after the penthemimeral caesura occupying the second half of the hexameter line, while its Attic counterpart is placed between positions 3-8 (inclusive) covering the second, third and fourth feet of the verse.126 Moreover, whereas in Homer the ‘gleaming light of the sun’ is used literally, i.e. to denote the end of the day, in CEG 511 it is employed metaphorically, as an address-in-apposition to Nikobolos, who is commemorated by the epitaph under discussion. It is probable that the anonymous composer of this grave epigram has been influenced by another Homeric expression of φάος, which was also used figuratively, when Telemachus is addressed as γλυκερὸν φάος (Od. 16.23, 17.41). The formula φῶς/φάος + λείπειν is recurrent in Homer where it is already used as a standard metaphor for ‘death’. In Il. 18.11 e.g. the formula λείψειν φάος ἠελίοιο is employed by Achilles who refers to the death of Patroclus. Homeric epic exploits at full length this light metaphor, both in its ‘positive’ form ὁρᾶν φάος ἠελίοιο (Il. 5.120: δηρὸν ἔτ᾽ ὄψεσθαι λαμπρὸν φάος ἠελίοιο; Od. 4.833: ἤ που ἔτι ζώει καὶ ὁρᾷ φάος ἠελίοιο)127 to designate ‘life’, and in its ‘negative’ form λείπειν φάος ἠελίοιο to express the idea of ‘death’.128 In CEG 566.5 (φῶς δ᾽ ἔλιπ᾽),129 the Homeric model has been both modified and followed in unexpected ways. The author of this epigram has expressed the life/death antithesis not only by using a combination of literal and metaphorical expressions (ἔστερξεν μὲν ζῶσαν, ἐπένθησεν δὲ θανοῦσαν· / φῶς δ’ ἔλιπ’ εὐδαίμων παῖδας παίδων ἐπιδοῦσα) but also by omitting the genitive ἠελίοιο, which recurs in the equivalent Homeric formula serving as a model for this expression. The effective modification of Homeric practice can be easily seen and appreciated, once we look at examples like Il. 18.10-11: Mυρμιδόνων τὸν ἄριστον ἔτι ζώοντος ἐμεῖο / χερσὶν ὕπο Tρώων λείψειν φάος ἠελίοιο, where

_____________ 126 127 128 129

For the unmetrical placement of Nikobolos’ (= Nikoboulos) name by the author of the epigram, see Hansen in CEG 511 ad loc. There are numerous Homeric attestations of this use. See Ciani (1974) 5-10. On this topic, see the first part of Chapter 2.

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the typical life/death polarity is expressed by an interplay between literal and figurative expressions (ζώοντος - λείψειν φάος ἠελίοιο).130 Homeric diction is also employed at times for uncommon themes. Such is the case with CEG 615 where, if the restoration is correct, the phrase θεῖο]ν ἀο̣ιδόν ends the first hexameter line of the epitaph, as in Od. 4.17 (τερπόμενοι· μετὰ δέ σφιν ἐμέλπετο θεῖος ἀοιδός). Interestingly enough, Callimachus’ Epigram 6 Pfeiffer = 55 Gow and Page (τοῦ Σαμίου πόνος εἰμὶ δόμῳ ποτὲ θεῖον ἀοιδόν / δεξαμένου, …), reproduces the expression θεῖον ἀοιδόν at the end of the first hexameter. The fragmentary condition of this fourth-century inscribed epitaph renders it impossible to decide whether Callimachus is slightly altering his Homeric model or simply making use of CEG 615, which could have been included in some early collection of epigrams known to Callimachus, like Philochorus’ Ἐπιγράμματα Ἀττικά. Likewise, CEG 597 offers an interesting example regarding fourthcentury pronunciation. Line 5 begins with the Homeric expression γήρᾳ ὕπο λιπαρῷ (Od. 11.136 = 23.283), which occupies positions 1-5 in the hexameter line and can, therefore, fit the first hemiepes of the pentameter (CEG 597.5). In the Homeric verse the last syllable of the preposition ὕπο / ὑπό is lengthened by position, since an initial λ (as well as μ) may have the value of two consonants. In CEG 597.5 the stonecutter has duplicated the lamdas (γήραι ὑπὸλλιπαρῶι), probably because he was unaware of the Homeric practice, which by inference means that in his time the letter λ could not make position.131 Sometimes the accumulation of ‘epic’-colored words or forms gives a special tone to an epitaph. In CEG 597 the epithet αἰπεῖαν (not attested elsewhere in both volumes of CEG),132 the meaning of φράζεο (= ‘pay attention to, perceive’133 vs CEG 5 and 8 where the same verb means ‘to say, tell’), and the combination of γενεή with πύματος (not attested in any epigram between the 8th and 5th centuries, with the ex_____________ 130

131 132

133

For more Homeric overtones with respect to the metaphorical use of φάος, see CEG 543.4, 595.3, 604 and the analysis of the relevant epigrams given in chapter 2. On the pronunciation of the Greek letter lamda, see Allen (19873) 39-40. See also Hansen, CEG 138; CEG 597 ad loc.; Peek GVI 2074. On the other hand, the use of στείχω with a cogn. acc. is not attested in epic but reflects tragic influence: Aesch. Ag. 80-81: τό θ’ ὑπεργήρων, φυλλάδος ἤδη κατακαρφομένης, / τρίποδας μὲν ὁδοὺς στείχει, …; Soph. Ant. 806-808: ὁρᾶτέ μ’, ὦ γᾶς πατρίας πολῖται / τὰν νεάταν ὁδὸν / στείχουσαν, … . This verb never means ‘say, tell’ in Homer. In Herodotus, it is still (not often though) used in one of its Homeric nuances (‘indicate, show’). See Hdt. 7.213, where it is employed with ἀτραπός (!): ἔφρασέ τε τὴν ἀτραπὸν τὴν διὰ τοῦ ὄρεος φέρουσαν ἐς Θερμοπύλας.

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ception of CEG 658.3 from fourth-century Arcadia) are poetic forms known from epic 134 and consitute hapaxes within the extant corpus of fourth-century Attic epitaphs. Moreover, the genitive Ἀί<δ>αο (CEG 597.4) is also used in verse-terminal position in Homer (e.g. Od. 11.164).135 Epic, but not Homeric influence, may be the source for the epithet πολυδέγμων modifying Hades (CEG 490.2: πο̣λ̣υ̣δέ[γ̣μονι δ’ ἐστὶ παρ’ Ἅι[δηι]).136 This term is attested in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter [2] (17: … ἄναξ πολυδέγμων; 31: πατροκασίγνητος, πολυσημάντωρ, πολυδέγμων; 430: … ἄναξ κρατερὸς πολυδέγμων), and in orphic texts (Orph. Hymns 18.11-12 (to Pluto): ὡς κρατέεις θνητῶν θανάτου χάριν, ὦ πολυδέγμων / Eὔβουλ’, …; cf. fr. 388 F 6 (Bernabé) = 49 iv 64-65 (Kern):137 [Γαῖα Διὸ]ς βουλ[ῆισι χαριζομέ]να [Πολυδέ]κ[τηι]; fr. 389 F 10 (Bernabé) = 49 v 69-70 (Kern):138 Nύσ[ιον] ἂμ πεδίον τ[ῆι ὄρουσεν ἄναξ πολυδέ]γμων). Despite its fragmentary nature, CEG 598139 has preserved some traces of epic influence. Both [ὁρ]όων and ἠϊθέοι᾽(ο) belong to epic diction. This is the only attestation of the Homeric form ὁρόων in the entire corpus of inscribed Greek epigrams dating from the 8th to the end of the 4th century.140 ἠίθεος, an epic term recurrent in Homer, is attested only once in CEG I in an epitaph from Thasos (160: ἠιθέο παρὰ [σῆμα]). Conversely, ἠίθεος is more often attested in fourth-century inscribed epigrams, three times in Attic (CEG 526.2 and 8, CEG 598,) and twice in non-Attic epitaphs (CEG 650, 694). The Attic attestations of the term (none in 105 epitaphs dating between the 8th-5th centuries vs _____________ 134

135

136

137 138 139 140

The epithet αἰπύς, -εῖα, -ύ is common in epic (and lyric poetry) but rare in tragedy; for φράζεο meaning ‘pay attention to, take thought’, see (e.g.) Il. 5.440; 9.251; Od. 1.273. For γενεή with adjectives in the comparative or superlative referring to age, see (e.g.) Il. 2.707 (ὁπλότερος); 6.24 (πρεσβύτατος); 7.153 (νεώτατος); 9.161 (προγενέστερος); 11.786-787 (ὑπέρτερος-πρεσβύτερος); 15.166=15.182 (πρότερος). Hades is only mentioned in fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs when the anonymous authors have been influenced by epic or tragedy. See also the following section on the influence of tragic diction. See also Homeric Hymn to Demeter (2) 9: Γαῖα Διὸς βουλῇσι χαριζομένη Πολυδέκτῃ. In CEG 490.2 νεκροδέ]γ̣μονι instead of πολυδέ]γ̣μονι (cf. [Aesch.] PV 153: νέρθέν θ’ Ἅιδου τοῦ νεκροδέγμονος) is less probable, as Hansen (CEG 490 ad loc.) rightly observes. P. Berol. 44, 60. P. Berol. 44, 34. = ΣΕΜΑ 2614. The only non Attic-Ionic form of the verb ὁράω used in inscribed Greek epigrams dating from the archaic to the end of the classical period is attested in CEG 821, where the Doric hορῆν is used.

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3 times in 162 epitaphs dating from the 4th century) implicitly indicate a tendency I have observed in the case of the use of priamel: the composers of fourth-century Attic epitaphs may use epic diction less than their predecessors but show a special interest in the retrieval of certain epic features which render their compositions more colorful. (a2) Tragic Vocabulary The influence of tragic diction, which to a rather considerable extent can be traced to the plays of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, is probably due to the fact that after 386 BCE every new trilogy presented in Athens had by law to be accompanied by the performance of a single play of one of the three great tragedians. In particular, Euripides featured high in people’s preferences. According to IG II2 2320, Iphigenia, Orestes, and a third Euripidean tragedy whose title has not been preserved on the stone were presented together with new plays in three successive years (342/1-340/339 B.C.). Therefore, it was not only the existence of widely circulating copies of the tragedians’ plays but also the enforced difffusion of their work that made accessibility to and knowledge of their work easier than ever before. We can arguably postulate a situation in which the average educated Athenian would have been aware of expressions, phrases and vocabulary ‘introduced’ in the literary vernacular of fourth-century Athens. Table: Tragic diction in fourth-century Attic epitaphs CEG II Ae s ch.

Soph.

CEG II Soph. Eur.

467: ˻ὦ Xρόν˼ε, παντοίων θνητο˻ῖς πανεπίσκοπε δαῖμον˼ Suppl. 139-140: τελευτὰς δ’ ἐν χρόνῳ / πατὴρ ὁ παντόπτας πρευμενεῖς κτίσειεν; fr. 192.5-8 (Prometheus Solutus): ἵν’ ὁ παντόπτας Ἥλιος αἰεὶ / χρῶτ’ ἀθάνατον κάματόν θ’ ἵππων / θερμαῖς ὕδατος / μαλακοῦ προχοαῖς ἀναπαύει OT 1213: ὁ πάνθ’ ὁρῶν χρόνος; fr. 301 (Hipponous): … ὡς ὁ πάνθ’ ὁρῶν καὶ πάντ’ ἀκούων πάντ’ ἀναπτύσσει χρόνος 469, 483, 485.1, 494, 501, 511, 512, 515(?), 527, 539, 553.1, 564, 569: ποθεινός, -ή El. 1104: ποθεινὴν … παρουσίαν; Phil. 1445: ὦ φθέγμα ποθεινὸν ἐμοὶ πέμψας; fr. 752.2 (fabula incerta) αἴρω ποθεινὴν μᾶζαν… Cycl. 620-621: … Bρόμιον / ποθεινὸν εἰσιδεῖν θέλω; Med. 1221: … ποθεινὴ δακρύοισι συμφορά; Hel. 540: [… ὡς ποθεινὸς ἂν μόλοις], 623: … ὦ ποθεινὸς ἡμέρα, IT 515: καὶ μὴν ποθεινός γ’ ἦλθες ἐξ Ἄργους

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μολών; IT 1005-1006: … οὐ γὰρ ἀλλ’ ἀνὴρ μὲν ἐκ δόμων / θανὼν ποθεινός, …; Phoen. 320-321: ἦ ποθεινὸς φίλοις, / ἦ ποθεινὸς Θήβαις; Phoen. 1737-1738: ποθεινὰ δάκρυα παρὰ φίλαισι παρθένοις / λιποῦσ’ ἄπειμι πατρίδος ἀποπρὸ γαίας; Or. 1045: ὦ φίλτατ’, ὦ ποθεινὸν ἥδιστόν τ’ ἔχων; Or. 1082: ἀλλ’, ὦ ποθεινὸν ὄμμ’ ὁμιλίας ἐμῆς; fr. 1132.31 (dubia et spuria): ποθεινὸν … κτῆμα CEG II Soph. Eur.

CEG II Ae s ch. Soph.

CEG II Soph.

Eur.

CEG II Ae s ch. Eur.

CEG II Soph.

477, 485.6, 498, 513, 518, 529, 543.7, 574, 589, 591.7, 593.8-9, 604: πένθος + λείπω / τίθημι OC 1708: οὐδὲ πένθος ἔλιπ’ ἄκλαυτον fr. 757.942-943 (Hypsipyle): σὺν γὰρ καλῇ σό[ν, ὦ γύναι, πένθος τέλει / θήσει σε καὶ παῖδ’ [εἰς τὸ λοιπὸν εὐκλεεῖς. 489: τὸς ἀγαθὸς ἔστερξεν Ἄρης, ἐφίλησε δ’ ἔπαινος Eum. 355-356: … ὅταν Ἄρης / τιθασὸς ὢν φίλον ἕλῃ; fr. 100 (Cares aut Europa): … ἀλλ’ Ἄρης φιλεῖ / ἀεὶ τὰ λῷστα πάντ’ ἀπανθίζειν στρατοῦ Phil. 436-437: πόλεμος οὐδέν’ ἄνδρ’ ἑκὼν / αἱρεῖ πονηρόν, ἀλλὰ τοὺς χρηστοὺς ἀεί fr. 724 (Phryges aut Hectoris lytra): τοὺς εὐγενεῖς γὰρ κἀγαθούς, ὦ παῖ, φιλεῖ Ἄρης ἐναίρειν… 489: πάνδεκτον Φερσεφόνης θάλ<α>μον; 563: κο̣ι̣νοταφὴς θάλαμος; 575.5 (et aliter): Φερσεφό|νης θαλάμου<ς>; 593.4: κοινὸν Φερσεφόνης … θάλαμον Aj. 1194: … τὸν πολύκοινον Ἅιδαν; El. 137-138: … ἐξ Ἀίδα / παγκοίνου …; Ant. 804: τὸν παγκοίτην ὅθ’ ὁρῶ θάλαμον; Ant. 810-811: … ὁ παγκοίτας Ἅιδας … Suppl. 797: κοινὸν ἐς Ἅιδην καταβᾶσα; Suppl. 1022: Φερσεφονείας ἥξω θαλάμους 591.5: ὦ πολύκλαυθ’ Ἅιδη Pers. 674: ὦ πολύκλαυτε φίλοισι θανών; Ag. 1526: πολύκλαυτόν †τ’ Ἰφιγένειαν† Her. 1427: στείχομεν οἰκτροὶ καὶ πολύκλαυτοι; Ion 869: σιγῶσα τόκους πολυκλαύτους; IA 779-780: θήσει κόρας πολυκλαύ-/τους δάμαρτά τε Πριάμου; IA 781-783: ἁ δὲ Διὸς Ἑλένα κόρα / πολύκλαυτος ἐσεῖται / πόσιν προλιποῦσα 526.8-9: τὸν ἄνοικτον / τύμβον; 575.5: ἀνοικτίστω[ς] … θαλάμους OT 181: θαναταφόρα κεῖται ἀνοίκτως

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Eur.

Hec. 91: … ἐπ’ ἐμῶν γονάτων σπασθεῖσαν ἀνοίκτως; Ion 1387: ἀνοικτέον τάδ’ ἐστὶ καὶ τολμητέον; Tro. 756: πεσὼν ἀνοίκτως, …; Tro. 787: … ὅστις ἄνοικτος; fr. 119 + 120.4 (Andromeda): ἄνοικτος, ὃς τεκών σε τὰν

CEG II Eur.

538: νυμφιδίους οἴκους

CEG I I Ae s ch. Soph. Eur. CEG II Soph. Eur.

CEG II Eur.

Alc. 249: νυμφίδιοί τε κοῖται πατρίας Ἰωλκοῦ; Alc. 885-886: παίδων δὲ νόσους καὶ νυμφιδίους / εὐνὰς θανάτοις κεραϊζομένας; Med. 999: … νυμφιδίων ἕνεκεν λεχέων; Hipp. 767-768: … τεράμνων / ἄπο νυμφιδίων κρεμαστόν; Hipp. 1140: νυμφιδία δ’ ἀπόλωλε φυγᾷ σᾷ; Andr. 858: νυμφιδίῳ στέγᾳ 586.5: τέρμα βίου 141 fr. 362.2 (fabula incerta): θνῄσκει τις, εἰ μὴ τέρμα συντρέχοι βίου OT 1529-1530: πρὶν ἂν / τέρμα τοῦ βίου περάσῃ Alc. 643: … κἀπὶ τέρμ᾽ ἥκων βίου 594: ἐν δορὸς ἀλκεῖ 142 OC 1524: ὥς σοι πρὸ πολλῶν ἀσπίδων ἀλκὴν ὅδε / δορός τ’ ἐπακτοῦ γειτονῶν ἀεὶ τιθῇ Hcld. 760-761: καὶ δορὸς / πολυαίνετον ἀλκᾷ; Ion 483-484: δορί τε γᾷ πατρίᾳ φέρει / σωτήριον ἀλκάν; Phoen. 1097-1098: ὡς τῷ νοσοῦντι τειχέων εἴη δορὸς / ἀλκὴ δι’ ὀλίγου, Phoen. 1363: ὡς εἰς ἀγῶνα μονομάχου τ’ ἀλκὴν δορός; fr. 298.3 (Bellerophontes): ἐσθλοὶ γένοιντο παῖδες εἰς ἀλκὴν δορός; Rh. 708-709: -τίν’ ἀλκὴν τίν’ αἰνεῖς; - Ὀδυσσῆ. – μὴ κλωπὸς αἴνει φωτὸς αἱμύλον δόρυ 594.4-5: ἀ̣ντὶ γὰρ ἧς ψυχῆς ἀρετῆι πόλιν ἐστεφάνωσεν, | / θ̣εσ̣μὸς ο̣ὐ παραβὰς εὐδοκίμων προγόνων Ion 20: προγόνων νόμον σῴζουσα …; Ion 229-230: … θεοῦ δὲ νόμον / οὐ παραβαίνομεν…; IA 505: … προγόνους οὐ καταισχύνεις σέθεν; fr. 360.45 … 51 (Erechtheus): προγόνων παλαιὰ θέσμι’ ὅστις ἐκβαλεῖ· / … ἀντὶ γὰρ

_____________ 141

142

The expression ἐπὶ τέρμα μολόντα/μολοῦσα, which recurs in fourth-century inscribed epitaphs, mainly from Attica (510, 513, 527, 606.3) but not solely (630 [Boeotia], 651 [Opuntian Locri], 692 [Rhodos]), is a variant of the formula τέρμα βίου / ἀρετῆς + verb of movement. I have not included in the column containing Euripidean passages Hel. 42-43 (Φρυγῶν δ’ ἐς ἀλκὴν προυτέθην ἐγὼ μὲν οὔ, / τὸ δ’ ὄνομα τοὐμόν, ἆθλον Ἕλλησιν δορός), since δορός ‘goes’ syntactically with ἆθλον, not with ἐς ἀλκήν.

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ψυχῆς μιᾶς

CEG II Eur.

CEG I I Ae s ch. Soph. Eur.

595.3: οὐδὲ φάος λεύσων … Alc. 81-82: … ἢ ζῶσ᾽ ἔτι / φῶς τόδε λεύσσει …; El. 349: τί φασίν; ἁνὴρ ἔστι καὶ λεύσσει φάος; Phoen. 1084: … εἰ λεύσσει φάος; Phoen. 1547-1548: … οὐκέτι σοι τέκνα λεύσσει / φάος οὐδ’ ἄλοχος, …; Rh. 967: … κοὐ λεύσσων φάος; fr. 293.2 (Bellerophontes): … οὐ γὰρ ἄξιον λεύσσειν φάος.

Total: Total: Total: Total:

12 7 15 45

The epithet πανεπίσκοπος is for the first time attested in CEG 467. The quotation from Aeschylus’ Suppl. (139-140: τελευτὰς δ’ ἐν χρόνῳ / πατὴρ ὁ παντόπτας πρευμενεῖς κτίσειεν) shows how πανεπίσκοπος has been modelled upon παντόπτης, which is attested in Soph. OC 10851086 (ἰὼ θεῶν πάνταρχε παντ- / όπτα Zεῦ, …) and Ar. Av. 1058-1059 (ἤδη ʼμοὶ τῷ παντόπτᾳ / καὶ παντάρχᾳ θνητοὶ πάντες), but not with χρόνος. Conversely, in the ‘parallel’ passages from Sophocles (OT 1213; fr. 301) the epithet πανεπίσκοπος is not used but the idea expressed is the same with CEG 467. The epithet ποθεινός is attested only twice (CEG 128, 175) before the 4th century in non-Attic epitaphs. It is also employed, though in a different context, by Callinus (1.16: ἀλλ᾽ ὁ μὲν οὐκ ἔμπης δήμῳ φίλος οὐδὲ ποθεινός), Dionysius Chalcus 6.1-2 (τί κάλλιον ἀρχομένοισιν / ἢ καταπαυομένοις ἢ τὸ ποθεινότατον;), and Pindar (Olymp. 10.87: ποθεινὸς ἵκοντι νεότατος…, Pyth. 4.218: ποθεινὰ δ’ Ἑλλὰς αὐτάν, Isthm. 5.7: ἔν τ’ ἀγωνίοις ἀέθλοισι ποθεινόν). Its intensified use in our corpus has Euripidean overtones. The expression πένθος + λείπω / τίθημι is mainly attested in epitaphs from Attica (477, 485.6, 498, 513, 518, 529, 543.7, 574, 589, 591.7, 593.8-9, 604), with the exception of CEG 664, 689. Despite the fact that this phrase is also attested in Homer (e.g. Il. 17.37; Od. 24.423), it is scarcely attested before the 4th century (twice in Attica: CEG 50, 84143 and once in Boeotia: CEG 113). Therefore, its greater frequency in fourth-century Attic epitaphs may have been influenced by tragic diction. _____________ 143

I have excluded uncertain restorations.

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The phrases τὸς ἀγαθὸς ἔστερξεν Ἄρης (CEG 489) and πάνδεκτον Φερσεφόνης θάλ<α>μον, (CEG 489) and its variants κο̣ι̣νοταφὴς θάλαμος (CEG 563), Φερσεφό|νης θαλάμου<ς> (CEG 575 et aliter), κοινὸν Φερσεφόνης … θάλαμον (CEG 593) have strong parallels in Attic tragedy. Both show the unfailing traces of the kind of metaphorical use Greek drama is so fond of. The latter expression, which recurs in fourth-century Attic epitaphs, has virtually eliminated the use of Hades, which is mentioned only three times in our extant corpus of funerary epigrams.144 CEG 591.5 (ὦ πολύκλαυθ’ Ἅιδη) has clear tragic overtones, mainly Euripidean. The term πολύκλαυτος as an epithet of Hades (‘causing much lamentation’) is not attested in tragedy, where it is used either in active or passive sense within a lament context, as e.g. in IA 781-783 (ἁ δὲ Διὸς Ἑλένα κόρα / πολύκλαυτος ἐσεῖται / πόσιν προλιποῦσα) recalling the diction of an epitaph (πόσιν προλιποῦσα). The rare term ἄνοικτος / ἀνοίκτιστος (526: τὸν ἄνοικτον / τύμβον; 575: ἀνοικτίστω[ς] = ἀνοικτίστους) may also reflect Euripidean influence. In Eur. Hec. 91, the suffering queen of Troy refers to her dream of a she-deer being slaughtered by a wolf after having been ‘relentlessly’ dragged away from her knees (σπασθεῖσαν ἀνοίκτως). CEG 538 (νυμφιδίους οἴκους) is a direct Euripidean influence. In Alc. 885-886 (παίδων δὲ νόσους καὶ νυμφιδίους / εὐνὰς θανάτοις κεραϊζομένας) the context is strikingly similar, since Alcestis, just as Pamphile in epitaph CEG 538, dies leaving her bridal bed/house that is destroyed by death. The formula τέρμα βίου is used in literary texts before the 5th century but is not attested at all in Attic epigrams dating from the archaic and early classical periods. It is only attested in the form of τ̣έρμα λα|[χ]ὼν θανάτο in a grave epigram from Apollonia Pontica dating from the early 5th century (CEG 172).145 Therefore, its recurrent attestation in fourth-century Attic (mainly) epitaphs must be the result of the influence of Attic tragedy. The expression ἐν δορὸς ἀλκεῖ (CEG 594) reflects tragic influence, mostly Euripidean.146 Euripides becomes a more possible source of influence, given that the last two lines of CEG 594 (ἀ̣ντὶ γὰρ ἧς ψυχῆς ἀρετῆι πόλιν ἐστεφάνωσεν, | / θ̣εσ̣μὸς ο̣ὐ παραβὰς εὐδοκίμων προγό_____________ 144 145 146

See above on the use of epic diction in CEG 597. Phrases like ˻οἱ γ˼ᾶ˻̣ς τέ˼ρ̣μ̣α̣θ’̣ ˻ελόντες… (CEG 390) do not belong to the same expression, since they are used literally. See Hcld. 760-761; Ion 483-484; Phoen. 1097-1098, 1363; fr. 298.3 (Bellerophontes); Rh. 708-709.

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νων) bear a striking similarity to fr. 360.45-51 (Erechtheus):147 προγόνων παλαιὰ θέσμι’ ὅστις ἐκβαλεῖ· / οὐδ’ ἀντ’ ἐλαίας χρυσέας τε Γοργόνος / τρίαιναν ὀρθὴν στᾶσαν ἐν πόλεως βάθροις / Eὔμολπος οὐδὲ Θρῇξ ἀναστέψει λεώς / στεφάνοισι, Παλλὰς δ’ οὐδαμοῦ τιμήσεται. / χρῆσθ’, ὦ πολῖται, τοῖς ἐμοῖς λοχεύμασιν, / σῴζεσθε, νικᾶτ’· ἀντὶ γὰρ ψυχῆς μιᾶς. Moreover, the last line is also reminiscent of Euripides’ Ion 20: προγόνων νόμον σῴζουσα …, Ion 229-230: … θεοῦ δὲ νόμον / οὐ παραβαίνομεν …, and IA 505: … προγόνους οὐ καταισχύνεις σέθεν.148 The expression οὐδὲ φάος λεύσων … (CEG 595) is widely employed by Euripides. There are numerous expressions (like φῶς βλέπειν, ὁρᾶν etc.) that are used by Aeschylus and Sophocles but (οὐδὲ) φάος λεύσων is particular to Euripidean drama. See Alc. 81-82: … ἢ ζῶσ᾽ ἔτι / φῶς τόδε λεύσσει …; El. 349: τί φασίν; ἁνὴρ ἔστι καὶ λεύσσει φάος; Phoen. 1084: … εἰ λεύσσει φάος; Phoen. 1547-1548: … οὐκέτι σοι τέκνα λεύσσει / φάος οὐδ’ ἄλοχος, …; Rh. 967: … κοὐ λεύσσων φάος; fr. 293.2 (Bellerophontes): … οὐ γὰρ ἄξιον λεύσσειν φάος. According to the above table, the most influential playwright is Euripides, followed by Sophocles and Aeschylus. Some plays seem to be favored, especially when it comes to Sophoclean (OT: 3x; Ant.: 2x; Phil.: 2x; OC: 2x) or Euripidean drama (Phoen.: 6x; Ion: 5x; Alc.: 4x; IA: 3x; Med.:2x; Hel.:2x; IT.:2x; Or.:2x; Suppl.:2x; Tro.:2x; Hipp.:2x; Beller.:2x; Rh.:2x).149 (a3) Varia 512: ὤ + accus. in Sappho fr. 168 (Voigt): ὦ τὸν Ἄδωνιν. CEG 526.9: δνοφερῶι κείμενος ἐμ πελάγει. See LSJ s.v. and Il. 9.15 = 16.4: … δνοφερὸν χέει ὕδωρ; Od. 13.269: νὺξ δὲ μάλα δνοφερή …; Od. 15.50: νύκτα διὰ δνοφερὴν ἐλάαν; Theogn. 243 (West): … καὶ ὅταν δνοφερῆς ὑπὸ κεύθεσι γαίης. _____________ 147 148

149

TrGF 5.1 (Kannicht). See Themelis (1984) 103-110; (1985) 132. Matthaiou (1985) 133 rightly points to the fact that the ει instead of the ηι in ἀλκεῖ (cf. the dative ἀρετῆι, not ἀρετεῖ, and Threatte 1980, I, 378) indicates that the inscription belongs to the period between 340-325 BCE. In addition the long ο = ου in the accusative plural of the second declension noun θεσμὸς (= θεσμούς) is not attested, according to Threatte (1980, 258) after 330 BCE. In this light, Diognetos may have died in the battle of Charonea (338 BCE). The marker x indicates the number of ‘parallel’ passages according to the table ‘tragic diction in fourth-century Athens.’ Plays sharing the same number of ʻattestationsʼ are given in alphabetical order.

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CEG 550.3: βοτρυοστεφάνωι. See Archytas Amphissensis (3th c. BCE), fr. 1 (Powell, Collectanea Alexandrina, p. 23): τὸν βοτρυοστέφανον μυρίπνουν Mάκυνναν ἐραννάν. CEG 550.3: ἡδυγέλωτι. See Homeric Hymn to Pan (19) 37: αἰγιπόδην δικέρωτα πολύκροτον ἡδυγέλωτα.150 CEG 556:151 αἰαῖ. Since it is often attested in tragic poetry, no particular text can be detected as the main source of influence. But it is interesting that CEG 556 reproduces the chiatus that is often attested after αἰαῖ, as in Soph. El. 136: αἰαῖ, ἱκνοῦμαι. For a chiatus after an interjection, see also Theognis 527-528 (= AP 9.118): ὤ μοι ἐγὼν ἥβης καὶ γήραος οὐλομένοιο, / τοῦ μὲν ἐπερχομένου, τῆς δ’ ἀπονισομένης.152 CEG 566: παντοτέκνου is a hapax legomenon. It refers to the goddess Cybele, for whom there was a Metroum in Piraeus (IG II2 1327.27). One inscription from fourth-century Piraeus (IG II2 1273.24) and two dedicatory inscriptions from third-century Piraeus (IG II2 4563, 4609) refer to a certain μητρὶ θεῶν, who is in all probability Cybele. Other terms used for Cybele are μήτηρ πάντων (Kaibel 824); mater omnium (Firm. Mat. Err. prof. rel. 31, Aug. de civ. Dei 2.4); παμμήτειρα (Orph. Argonautica 547); παμμήτωρ (Kaibel 823.4); μητέρα συμπάντων μακάρων … (Apoll. Rh. 1.1094). CEG 568: ἡνίο̣χος τέχνης τραγικῆς Ἕλλησιν ἔσεσθαι. See App. Plan. 2 (= Sim. 149 Bergk = 11 Diehl = 30 EG): … παλαισμοσύνας δεξιὸν ἡνίοχον. Given that this epigram (App. Plan. 2) is later than the 4th century153 and has been wrongly attributed to Simonides, it can be argued that its author may have known a collection of fourth-century epigrams (Philochorus’ Ἐπιγράμματα Ἀττικά or, say, an evolving collection or collections of epigrams or only epitaphs) to which CEG 568 may have been included. The last verse of App. Plan. 2 (οἳ πατέρων ἀγαθῶν ἐστεφάνωσεν πόλιν) reproduces, to some extent, the diction of CEG 594.4-5: ... πόλιν ἐστεφάνωσεν, | / θ̣εσ̣μὸς ο̣ὐ παραβὰς εὐδοκίμων _____________ 150 151 152 153

See also AP 5.135.4: ἡδύγελως, τερπνὴ συμβολικῶν ταμίη. See also CEG 686.1, 709.6. On αἰαῖ in Greek tragedy, see Loraux (2002) 35-38. I side with Page (1981) 244 (FGE ad 30), who argues that since “the absence of the name of the homeland would be surprising in a contemporary epigram (cf. Wilamowitz Pindaros 440 n.1)”, then “these lines may well be the work of a learned Alexandrian.”

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προγόνων, which is safely dated soon after 338 BCE. In this light, it can be easily explained why the anonymous author of App. Plan. 2 (= Sim. 149 Bergk = 11 Diehl = 30 EG) that was falsely attributed to Simonides seems to have influenced the diction of CEG 568, whereas it is the other way round that influence has been probably exercised.154 CEG 597: … θυμὸν ἀποπρολιπών. See Eur. Her. 1081: φυγὰν φυγάν, γέροντες, ἀποπρὸ δωμάτων; Hel. 1133: τότ’ ἔσυτο πατρίδος ἀποπρὸ χειμάτων πνοᾷ; Phoen. 1737-1738: ποθεινὰ δάκρυα παρὰ φίλαισι παρθένοις / λιποῦσ’ ἄπειμι πατρίδος ἀποπρὸ γαίας; Or. 143: ἀποπρὸ βᾶτ’ ἐκεῖσ’ ἀποπρό μοι κοίτας; Or. 1451: ἐκεῖθεν [ἄλλον ἄλλοσε] διαρμόσας ἀποπρὸ δεσποίνας; IA 1287: ματρὸς ἀποπρὸ νοσφίσας. The form ἀποπρό is used in Homer (and should be written as either ἄπο πρὸ according to Aristarchus or as ἀπὸ πρὸ according to Herodian) 155 and Euripides but always with the genitive. It is once attested before the 4th century BCE governing the accusative (Hes. fr. 257.3 [Merkelbach-West]: οἶκον ἀποπρολιπὼν φεῦγ’ Ἄργεος ἱπποβότοιο).156 CEG 606.6: πτόρθοις βοτρυώδεος οἴνης. See Ion Eleg. 26.4-5 (von Blumenthal = West): ἐξ οὗ βοτρυόεσσ’ οἰνὰς ὑπὸ χθονίων / πτόρθον ἀνασχομένη θαλερῷ ἐπτύξατο πήχει; Eur. Ba. 12: πέριξ ἐγὼ ʼκάλυψα βοτρυώδει χλόῃ; Theophr. 3.13.6: ἔχει δὲ καὶ τὸν καρπὸν ὁμοίως πρὸς ἐνὶ μίσχῳ παχεῖ βοτρυώδη δέ). In general, Doric-lyric forms are rarely used in Attic epigrams. Even when the deceased comes from a Doric-speaking region (CEG 469), such as Θέρσανδρος and Σιμύλος, legates from Corcyra who died in Athens, Doric features completely disappear or are limited to the extra metrum part of the inscription (CEG 534). In the latter case the author of the epitaph “may have been the master of the deceased woman, himself probably an Athenian.” 157 In CEG 486, a private epitaph for Aristokrateia from Corinth, the entire composition is deprived of Doric features. Mixed spellings combining Doric ᾱ with Attic η are not infrequent.158 In fact, the Doric ᾱ in CEG 512 (ἀρετᾶς), 520 (ἀελίου) and _____________ 154

155 156 157 158

On the problems connected to the Sylloge Simonidea, see Gutzwiller (1998) 4951 (especially note 14); Sider (2007) 113-130. See (e.g.) Il. 16.669: πολλὸν ἄποπρο φέρων λοῦσον ποταμοῖο ῥοῇσιν; West (1998) xix. For later authors using ἀποπρό with the accusative, see Apoll. Rh. 1.1285; Hermesianax frs. 7.21, 7.44. Gragg (1910) 43. Threatte (1980) 131.

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576 (ἰφθίμαν, Δαμαινέτου, ἅδε, Kρατίσταν, φίλαν) is a constant feature of metrical texts and is commonly employed in the archaic and classical periods, especially in sepulchral epigrams. In the above cases, the first and second probably stem from the author’s will to ring a ‘poetic bell’,159 whereas the Doric features of the last epitaph (576) may have been the result of the Doric origin of Damainetos, who had given his daughter to be married to the Athenian Archemachos.160 (a4) Compound Epithets161 Compound epithets are of special importance for deciding about the emergence of literariness, the more so since they display the extent of poetic influence exercised by specific genres.162 What follows is a list of double or triple but not α-privative compounds, since they are extremely common and therefore no argument of literary polishing can be based on them:163 8 th -5 th centur y: ἀγχίαλος 2.7; ἀεθλοφόρος 136; αἰγίοχος 197, 297, 375.1, 377.6, 414; αἰνόμορος 94.4; ἀκερσεκόμης 390; ἀργυρότοξος 326, 337; βλαψίφρων 103; γλαυκῶπις 181, 182, 184, 203, 282, 287, 288, 392, 434, 435; διαμπερής 108.6; δυσδαίμων 178; δύσμαχος 5.5; δυσμενής 5.3, 99, 100; ἐγρεμάχης 194, 277; ἑκατηβόλος 325; ἑκηβόλος 326, 334, 338, 370, 403, 405, 425; ἔξοχος 4, 31, 403; ἐπιχθόνιος 83.8; ἐρίγδουπος 285, 392; εὐδαίμων 12; εὔδοξος 69, 383; εὐμενής 178; εὐπλόκαμος 428; εὐπόλεμος 10.5, 102; εὐρύχορος 12, 77, 87, 380.6, 408; εὐστέφανος 409; εὔυδρος 131; εὔφρων 377.5; εὐώνυμος 397; ἐφήμερος 139; ἡδύποτος 464; ἰοστέφανος 368; ἰοχέαιρα 403, 425; ἱππόβοτος 11; καλλίκομος 312; καλλιστέφανος 454; καλλίχορος 4, 82; κρατερόφρων 206, 243, 295; λεύκασπις 9; λευκώλενος 353, 354; λεωφόρος 167; μεγάθυμος 391; μεγαλήτωρ 103; μεγαλόφρων 102; μονογενής 174.5 and 174.9; _____________ 159 160 161

162 163

See Chapter 1 ad CEG 520; Hansen (CEG) ad 576. See Kaibel (1878) 26 (ad epigramma 77). The few examples offered by Gragg (1910) 35 are far from complete and do not pay justice to the dictional evolution of the epigram in the fourthcentury. For laudatory epithets in Greek epitaphs, see Tod (1951) 182-190. I do not include in the above list any epithet that does not survive at all on the stone and has been restored by modern scholars. On the other hand, I do include certain epithets that are only partly restored by philologists, since a significant part of the word can still be seen on the stone and, therefore, I consider the reading as safe. All italicized items in the above list are attested in Attic epitaphs dating before the 4th century BCE.

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νυμφόληπτος 321; ὀβριμοπάτρη 410; πανδαμάτωρ 79; πεντεκαιεικοσ(ι)έτης 176; περικαλλής 327, 335, 348, 363, 422, 423, 424; πλατύτοξος 331; πολιοῦχος 198, 235, 282, 296, 348, 378; πολυδάκρυος 119; πολύμηλος 380.3; πολυπενθής 58.1; πρόφρων 5.5, 225; πτολίπορθος 177.7; σύμμικτος 443; συνέμπορος 93.3; τανύπεπλος 301, 415; τηλαυγής 93.1; τριτογενής 185, 201, 203, 240, 261, 263, 269, 276, 280, 280a; φιλόξενος 123, 140; χαροπός 145; χρύσαιγις 410; χρυσήνιος 399; χρυσόκομος 308; χρυσοτρίαινος 266; ὠκύπορος 2.3. The above list shows that in the extant corpus of 465 epigrams dating from the 8th the end of the 5th century there are 129 compound epithets, i.e. 27.74% ca. The relevant number for the 105 sepulchral Attic epigrams dating from the same period is 29, i.e. 27.61% ca. The relevant percentages show that there is no difference between the percentage of compound epithets employed in Attic sepulchral epigrams and the general use of compound epithets in all the epigrams dating from the same period. 4 t h cen tur y: 164 ἁβρόπαις 680.6; ἀγλαόκαρπος 795.16; ἀείμνηστος 503, 512, 558, 593.9, 634, 644, 648, 689, 877.10; ἀέναος 706, 822, 865.2, (ἀιέναος); ἀθλοφόρος 795.10, 828, 865.6, 879; ἁλιστέφανος 627; ἀλλοδαπός 865.4; ἀμφίρυτος 819.13; ἀντάξιος 650; ἀντίθεος 761, 817.6; ἀντίπαλος 578.12, 811.8; ἀντίτεχνος 567; ἀργυρότοξος 787.5; βλαψίφρων 656; βοτρυοστέφανος 550; βοτρυώδης 606; δαΐξανδρος 798; δολιχοκρόταφος 779; δρυοστέφανος 814.8; δύσελπις 666; δυσμενής 658.5; δύσμορος 492, 591.6, 599; δυσξύνετος 557; δωδεκετής 709.5; δωδεκέτις 591.2; ἔγγαιος 657.8; ἑκατηβόλος 751; ἑκηβόλος 842; ἔμπειρος 700; ἐναρίθμιος 575; ἔνθεος 816.3; ἐννεετής 557; ἐννύχιος 860; ἔντιμος 473.12, 595.5; ἔξοχος 488, 543.3, 882; ἐπίδηλος 669; ἑπτάπυλος 787.4; ἐπώνυμος 517; εὐαίων 601, ΣΕΜΑ 821.4; εὐγήρως 579; εὐδαίμων 477, 524, 566, 577, 613, ΣΕΜΑ 821.1; εὐδόκιμος 594; εὔδοξος 795.24; εὐειδής 894.3; εὐθάνατος 579, 592; εὐλίμενος 888.6; εὐξύνετος 586.7; εὔπαις 776; εὐρύχορος 637, 654, 685, 819.8, 869; εὐσεβής 543.5, 545; εὔσελμος 680.2; εὐστέφανος 570, 785; εὐσύνετος 516; εὔχαρις 836; ἐχθρολέων 596.3; ἡδύγελως 550, 773; ἡδυλύρας 816.2; θηροτρόφος 814.7; θηροφόνος 889.2; ἰόκολπος 770; ἱππομέδων 807; ἱπποτρόφος 855; καλλίκομος 606.6; καλλιχίτων 785; καλλίχορος 570, 804, 819.12, 903; καρποφόρος 752; κατάπυγος 896; κλυτότοξος 877.1; κλυτόφημος 882; κοινοταφής 563; κουροτρόφος 894.9; κυδάλιμος 817.4; λευκώλενος 813; λυσίζωνος 840; _____________ 164

All italicized epithets in this list are attested in fourth-century Attic epitaphs.

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λυσίνοσος 656; μεγάθυμος 572; μεγαλήτωρ 519; μεγαλοσθένης 822; μέτοχος 604.3; μονόπαις 629; μυριετής 884; νικηφόρος 632.6, 827.3; οἰονόμος 878.10; ὀκταέτης 526.5; ὀκτωκαιδεκέτης 709.4, 739; ὁμάδελφος 795.6; ὁμόβωμος 763; ὁπλοφόρος 849.8; πάνδεκτος 489; πανεπίσκοπος 467; παντοδαπός 618; παντότεκνος 566; περίκλυστος 812.3; πολιοῦχος 859; πολυαίνητος 817.5, 878.8; πολυανθής 575; πολύδοξος 878.2; πολύκλαυτος 561, 591.5; πολύκοινος 496; πολύχρυσος 777.5; ποσσίκροτος 785; πτολίπορθος 798; σκηπτροφόρος 803; στεφανηφόρος 570, 773, 837; σύμβωμος 744; σύντροφος 527; σύσσιτος 901; ταυροφόνος 878.6; τεκνογέννητος 894.8; τερψίχορος 578.8, 797; τετραετής 691; τριτογενής 762; ὑπέρθυμος 697; ὑπερφίαλος 535; ὑψίκομος 865.2; φιλοπρόβατος 475; φύλοπις 650; χαλκοστέφανος 798; χαλκῶπις 888.31; ὠκύπους 820. The above list shows that in the extant corpus of 539 fourth-century epigrams there are 164 compound epithets, i.e. 30.42% ca. The relevant number for the 162 fourth-century Attic epitaphs is 59, i.e. 36.41% ca. This comparison shows that compound epithets display an increase of 5.99% when considered within the framework of fourthcentury Attic sepulchral epigrams. If the use of compound epithets is a sign of literary interest and a covert indication of the attempt to endow these brief compositions with a certain poetic color, then one can plausibly argue that fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs systematically show traces of a developing literariness. The fact that compound epithets are employed more often in grave epigrams than in the extant corpus of metrical inscriptions and that this tendency gradually increases as we move from the archaic and early classical periods to the 4th century (for Attic epitaphs) is an implicit indication of subliterariness. Although one should not expect the refined elegance of the Hellenistic epigram, a ʻliterarizationʼ process is already under way in areas like Attica where the number of sepulchral epigrams available allows for drawing wider conclusions. (a5) Influence of the Language of Decrees and Dedicatory Inscriptions The use of ἀντί + genitive or the verb ἀντιδίδωμι (‘to give in return’) constitutes a typical feature of fifth-century decrees and is also frequently employed in dedicatory inscriptions. This formula (taking the form of ἀνθ’ ὧν in fifth-century decrees) is consonant with the most

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fundamental principle underscoring both decrees and dedicatory inscriptions,165 i.e. that of recompense and reward for a service granted either to the state or to an individual. By employing such a device, sepulchral epigrams are able either to endorse the viewpoint of recognition inherent in decrees and dedications or to alter the function of the ἀντί + genitive formula and create emotional outburst. In particular, inscribed epitaphs have reappropriated a traditional use, which did not pertain to their thematic framework, to such an extent that they were able to create a new typology, i.e. the τάφον ἀντὶ γάμου formula. Table: ἀντάξιος, ἀνταποδίδωμι, ἀντί, and ἀντιδίδωμι, in inscribed epigrams 166 8th-5th century 4th century

Sepul chra l 5 [A: 2 + R: 3] 10 [A: 5 + R: 5]

Dedi cator y 10 [A: 0 + R: 10] 11 [A: 2 + R 11]

The high percentage of ‘ἀντί’ structure in Attic grave epigrams both of the archaic/early classical and also of the late (4th century) classical period must be explained by the influence of a special factor or factors pertaining to Athenian practice. Dedicatory epigrams, where the ‘ἀντί’ structure is commonly used, must be excluded as a potential source of influence, for, as the above table shows, ἀντί, ἀντιδίδωμι, ἀνταποδίδωμι and ἀντάξιος are attested only twice (CEG 745, CEG 761) in Attic inscribed dedicatory epigrams dating from the archaic to the end of the classical period (never before the 4th century). Therefore, it can be plausibly argued that the use of ἀντί in Attic sepulchral epigrams stems from the influence of the large number of decrees, where the ἀνθ’ ὧν formula was regularly used during the 5th century.167 From this perspective, it becomes increasingly crucial to determine whether and, if so, to what extent Attic sepulchral epigrams employed the ‘ἀντί’ structure not only as a do quod dedisti device, i.e. in the manner of decrees and dedicatory inscriptions, but also as a vehicle for the dramatic replacement of a phase of one’s life by death.

_____________ 165 166 167

For anticipated ‘recompense’-formulas in votive dedicatory inscriptions during the archaic period, see Lazzarini (1976) 131-136. (A) represents Attica and (R) the rest of Greece. See Veligianni-Terzi (2005) 172.

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Table: Distribution of the ἀντί –structure according to meaning in sepulchral epigrams 168 ἀντί –stru ctur e ‘instead of’

‘in return for’

8 th -5 th cent ury 4 th ce ntur y A 24: ἀντὶ γάμο; R 153: ἀντὶ A 584: τάφον ἀντὶ γάμου; γυναικός A 591.12: θρῆνόν τε ἀντ’ ἀνδρὸς καὶ τάφον ἀντὶ γάμου A 41: ἀντ’ ἀρετε̃ς | ἐδὲ A 533: ἀνθ’ ὧν; A 573: ἀντὶ σαοφροσύνες; R 139: ἀντ’ δὲ σῆς ἥβης, Διονυσία, ἀγ[α]θο̃ν; R 167: ὀργῆς δ᾽ ἡ<λ>ικίας τε; 594: ἀ̣ντὶ γὰρ ἀ|[ντ’] ἀγαθῆς ἧς ψυχῆς; R 673: ἀντὶ γένεŒος καὶ κτήσιος; R 690: ἀνθ’ ὧν; R 726: ἀνθ’ ὧν

The above table amply shows that only (with the exception of CEG 153 from Amorgos) in Attic sepulchral epigrams the ‘ἀντί’ structure was not employed as a do quod dedisti formula meaning ‘in return for’ but as a substitution device meaning ‘instead of’. With respect to the Phrasikleia epitaph (CEG 24) and the three attestations of the ‘ἀντί’ structure in fourth-century Attic funerary epigrams (CEG 584 and 591.12 [twice]), the ‘innovative’ use was dictionally crystallized in the ἀντὶ γάμου formula, which was especially suitable for young girls who had died prematurely. By exploiting the language of decrees and, perhaps, non-metrical dedications, the anonymous Attic composers of sepulchral epigrams were able to give to the timeless motif of mors immatura (ἄωρος θάνατος) a stark form of expression. The dramatic tone created by such a sophisticated dictional reshaping underwent a considerable evolution in the course of time. From the simple ἀντὶ γάμου form of the famous sixth-century Phrasikleia inscription (CEG 24), the anonymous composers were able to create longer, fuller and more complex and stylish combinations, like the expression τάφον ἀντὶ γάμου (CEG 584) or the refined, emphatic, and double-antithetical amalgam θρῆνόν τε ἀντ’ ἀνδρὸς καὶ τάφον ἀντὶ γάμου (CEG 591.12).

_____________ 168

(A) stands for Attica and (R) for the rest of Greece.

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(b) Style In this section, I shall explore certain stylistic aspects of fourthcentury Attic epitaphs, such as wordplay and soundplay, and the use of the priamel. Reading style into its details may allow us to establish the necessary backdrop to the evolution of inscribed epigrams into a self-conscious and autonomous genre, in the manner of the literary Hellenistic epigram. Before embarking on the examination of the aforementioned stylistic features, I would like to make it clear that fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs display a number of dissonant trends (occasional refinement vs uneven style, formulaic repetitions vs innovative experiments, variation of commonplace topics vs absence of neologisms), which implicitly indicate that our corpus represents a transitional phase before the elaborate compositions and studied mannerism of the Hellenistic and Imperial periods.169 (b1) Wordplay and Soundplay Wordplay and soundplay are employed to create effect and/or to emphasize a point. Alliteration and/or syllable repetition are the basic means used to produce aural associations, which are made possible only when the epitaph is read aloud by the passer-by. These stylistic techniques speak both for the nature of the inscribed epitaph that aims at ʻgaining an audienceʼ and also for the emergence of subliterariness, the more so since they are consciously employed, even at the expense of typical epigraphical practice, to reinforce a specific point the epitaph strives to make. In CEG 545.3-4, the standard dichotomy of the epigraphical space is abolished and the deceased’s name accompanied by his patronymic is placed within the epigram proper, in order to highlight the discrepancy between the departed’s place of origin and the place of his burial:170 εἰ δὲ ὄνομα ζητεῖς, Θεογείτ|ων Θυμόχου παῖς Θηβα|ῖος γενεὰν κε̃μα<ι> κλειν|αῖς ἐν Ἀθήνα|ις. If you are looking for my name, it is I, Theogeiton, the son of Thymochos who is buried in glorious Athens, though a Theban by origin.

_____________ 169

170

For the evolution of Hellenistic epigram from refinement to mannerism, see Magnelli (2007) 165-183. I quote only lines 3-4 of the epitaph.

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The composer of the epitaph has embedded the dead man’s name and patronymic as well as his place of origin within the metrical part of the inscription, in order to create an aural association enhanced by the alliteration of the sound th, as all three words begin with the letter theta (θ). In this way, the reader of the inscription is able through the acoustical effect produced by repetition to realize the odd catalectic point: a Theban has not been buried in Thebes but in Athens. A typical device used to produce soundplay is the alliteration of the letter sigma. The composer of epitaphs can easily produce such an effect, either because of the constant first-second persons interplay, the ‘I-You’ interaction between the deceased and the mourner, which constitutes one of the most traditional themes of Greek lament poetry at large, or the address to the deceased in the second person. In CEG 551, this form of soundplay is employed within the framework of addressing the dead Kallisto:171 (i) Καλλιστώ. (ii) σῶμα σὸν ἐν κόλποις, Kαλλιστοῖ, γαῖα καλύπτει, | σῆς δὲ <ἀ>ρετῆς μνήμην σοῖσι φίλοις ἔλιπες. (i) Kallisto. (ii) The earth covers your body, Kallisto, in her lap, and you have left to your friends a memory of your arete.

The ‘sigmatistic’ soundplay172 brings Kallisto’s body (σῶμα), friends (φίλοις) and arete (<ἀ>ρετῆς) together. This aural association results in forging a link between her body that has been given to the earth and her arete that has been bestowed on her friends. CEG 564173 offers an even more fascinating example, where wordplay and soundplay are effectively orchestrated not only to ‘invite’ but also to suggest a ‘reading’ on the part of the future passer-by: (i) [Φιλ]όστρατος Φιλοξένου. (ii) παῖ πατέρος σαυτοῦ πατρὸς ἔχων ὄνομα, καὶ παραμύθιον ἦσθα | παρωνύμιόν τε γονεῦσι Nε¸ολλαρίων, δαίμων δέ σ’ ἀφείλετο πᾶ<σ>ι πο|θεινόν. (i) Philostratos, son of Philoxenos. (ii) Child, having the name of your father’s father,

_____________ 171 172 173

ca. 350?, Piraeus. The sound s is repeated eleven times in this two-verse epitaph. Post ca. 350, Athens.

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you were a source of consolation to your parents, (having) the nickname Neollarion. Fate took you away to be longed for by all.

The alliteration based on the repetition of the initial syllable pa (πα-) underscores the link between the three family members standing for three consecutive generations, i.e. grandfather, father, and son.174 The continuation and specialization of the alliterative effect by the use of παραμύθιον and especially by παρωνύμιον goes beyond mere naming. The deceased’s very existence is figuratively ‘translated’ via alliteration into covert praise in terms of family affection. Having paved the way for such a reading, the composer is allowed to ‘ask’ the future reader of the epigram to decipher the wordplay suggested by the nickname Nε¸ολλαρίων (‘the new-person’), which was used for the young Philostratos by his parents, since his birth after the death of Philoxenos’ father (the grandfather Philostratos) brought consolation to their lives.175 The epigram’s climactic build up ‘invites’ the reader to follow the composer’s thought leading him from a simple name-based link with his grandfather (and partly with his father) to a stronger bond with his parents, and finally to a moving wordplay based on family intimacy.176 The last word of the entire epitaph (ποθεινόν) aptly captures the affection described in the previous verses. One of the most fascinating cases of wordplay is offered by ΣΕΜΑ 821, where the deceased’s name triggers the use of two alliterative adjectives, which in their turn are fully exploited in order to underscore the thematic kernel of the epitaph: εὐδ̣α̣ίμων ὁ θανὼν [Ε]ὐφρά̣νωρ, Εὔφρονος ὑὸς ἐνθ̣[ά]δ᾽ ἔ[ην κ]αὶ ἐτ̣ῶ̣ν̣ ἑκατὸν καὶ πέντ᾽ ἐπὶ τούτοις, τ[ρεῖ]ς παίδ[ων] γενεὰς ἐπιδών, πάντας καταλείπων˙ τ[οὔνεκεν εὐαίων] ἔτυ[μ᾽] ὃς πρῶτος κατέδαρθεν Εὐφράνωρ πολλοῖσιν ἔβη ζηλωτὸς ἐς Ἅιδου.

4

The deceased Euphranor, son of Euphron, was a happy man. On top of that he lived for 105 years, having seen three generations of children, whom he all left behind.

_____________ 174

175 176

Philost ratos >Philoxenos>Philos tra tos. Cf. Lysias Ἀπολογία δωροδοκίας ἀπαράσημος (21) 24 for the wordplay between πατήρ and πατρίς. I owe this reference to Strauss (1993) 49. See Clairmont (1970) 83-84, plate 9. Clairmont is wrong to translate Nε¸ολλαρίων as ‘Little Babbler’. Humphreys (19932) 108 commits the same mistake. See Bechtel (1917) 281-284; Peek (1938) 30-31; Vérilhac (1978) 172 (no. 108), (1982) 137 (§ 67).

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Chapter 4 For this reason Euphranor was truly a man fortunate in life, since he died177 first and went to the House of Hades being envied for his happiness by many men.

The twice-repeated name of the deceased (Εὐφράνωρ) is accompanied by two three-syllable adjectives (εὐδαίμων-εὐαίων) creating an extended chiasmus (εὐδαίμων - Εὐφράνωρ - εὐαίων - Εὐφράνωρ). This alliterative pun, which is also exploiting the semantics of Εὐφράνωρ (<εὐφραίνομαι), becomes the basis on which the thematic kernel of the entire epitaph is grounded. Longevity and family continuity are thus acoustically mirrored in the sylleptic chiasmus created by the pithy interaction between fate (εὐδαίμων), life (εὐαίων),178 and happiness (Εὐφράνωρ). (b2) Priamel Priamel is employed only once in the extant corpus of inscribed epitaphs dating from the 8th to the end of the 4th century BCE. The only attested example is CEG 573: οὐχὶ πέπλους, οὐ χρυσὸν ἐθαύμασεν ἐμ βίωι ἥδε, ἀλλὰ πόσιν τε αὑτῆς σωφροσύ[νην τ(ε) (Ô) Ô Ó]. | ἀντὶ δὲ σῆς ἥβης, Διονυσία, ἡ<λ>ικίας τε τόνδε τάφον κοσμεῖ σὸς πόσις Ἀντίφ[ιλος]. It is neither robes, nor gold that this woman here admired in her life, but both her own husband and sophrosyne […]. In recompense to your youth, Dionysia, and your age, your husband Antiphilos is decorating this grave here.

The epigram begins by a short priamel: ‘οὐχὶ πέπλους, οὐ χρυσόν … / ἀλλά…. It is reminiscent of Archilochus fr. 19 West: “ “οὔ μοι τὰ Γύγε¸ω τοῦ πολυχρύσου μέλει, / οὐδ’ εἷλέ πώ με ζῆλος οὐδ’ ἀγαίομαι / θε¸ῶν ἔργα, μεγάλης δ’ οὐκ ἐρέ¸ω τυραννίδος· / ἀπόπροθεν γάρ ἐστιν ὀφθαλμῶν ἐμῶν.” But unlike Archilochus’ iambic composition where there is no positive statement capping the initial negative declara_____________ 177

178

The verb καταδαρθάνειν means ʻto fall asleepʼ in a literal and metaphorical sense. Cf. Modern Greek κοιμάμαι (sleep both literally and figuratively, i.e. die). See also CEG 601, where εὐαίων is used together with the ‘παῖδας παίδων + participle’ formula.

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tions, the composer of this epitaph has emphatically set the deceased’s husband and sophrosyne on the antipods of luxurious extravagance epitomized in ‘robes’ and ‘gold’. The use of the priamel, which reflects literary influence of either epic or lyric poetry, is based on the tenor-vehicle combination, where a first part presents the reader with a series of items accompanied by a negative particle, and a second part highlights a strongly stressed positive item. The opposition between negatively and positively presented items results in the rejection of the former and the stark approval of the latter. The priamel is already attested in Homer, where the list of negatively presented items can be quite long, occasionally acquiring features pertaining to the typology of catalogue-poetry, as in the famous scene between Zeus and Hera in Il. 14.315-328. Interestingly enough, there is no example of priamel use in inscribed epigrams before the 4th century from any part of the Greek world. Although the saying unus testis nullus testis should be a prudent caveat in this case, one is allowed to see CEG 573 as an example of the attempt to create more elaborate literary effects within the limited space of a given sepulchral epigram.179 (c) Meter Allen has provided the most systematic study of the versification in Greek inscriptions.180 Despite the fact that his statistics must be updated both quantitatively and qualitatively, I will make use of them, the more so since they constitute the most available tool for the study of metrical inscriptions. My purpose is not to examine all the metrical phenomena Allen has thoroughly analyzed, but to focus attention only on certain features that display the metrical style of the special kind of poetry that is represented by inscribed epitaphs from fourthcentury Athens. Although Allen’s statistics basically distinguish between sixth-fifth 181 and fourth-second century epigrams, there is no necessary caveat that must be taken into account. The statistical data Allen offers are valid, in general, for fourth-century epitaphs as well. _____________ 179 180 181

On the use of priamel in literary epigrams, see Race (1982) 109-110. Allen (1888). Bowie (forthcoming 2008) provides one of the most interesting evaluations of the importance of metrical factors in the narrative development of earlyinscribed epigram. By making full use of thematic and prosodical arguments, he makes a case for the decisive influence of sympotic elegy reinforced by its martial exhortatory features.

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The overwhelming majority of inscribed epitaphs from fourthcentury Attica have been composed either in elegiac couplets (by far the most commonly used meter) or in dactylic hexameters.182 Studying the meter of inscribed epitaphs is important for two different reasons: (1) the so-called ‘anomalous’ cases, i.e. deviations from the metrical constraints of the particular meters are indicative of the kind of problems the anonymous composers of these poetic vignettes faced and of the ways they dealt with them; (2) coterminacy, i.e. the convergence of the verse or metrical line with the expression of ‘full meaning’ may implicitly indicate a tendency to create narrative continuity extending further than the verse end. Enjambment, especially the one coined ‘necessary’ (where syntactical- and sense-completion are effectuated through a run-over word or words), shows that the composers of inscribed epigrams, epitaphs in our case, did not treat individual verses in the same way: whereas in inscribed epitaphs the tendency favors verse separation, in the non-inscribed epigrams this tendency is less strong (despite a slight increase observed in the latter). Along these lines, there is a stronger tendency to separate the elegiac couplets in the inscribed epitaphs than there is in noninscribed epigrams. Before I embark on the examination of the two aforementioned themes, I would like to make some comparative observations concerning both the outer and inner metric of the hexameter verses of our corpus.183 (c1) Outer Metric Any discussion regarding the outer metric (the various sequences of dactyls and spondees distributed in the first five feet of the dactylic hexameter verse) of our epigrammatic corpus has to be based on solid statistical data. We our fortunate enough to possess a thorough and detailed database of the various metrical types used both in fourthcentury inscribed sepulchral epigrams from Attica and other parts of the Hellenophone world, and in Hellenistic inscribed epigrams.184 _____________ 182

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CEG 622 is the only example of an iambic trimeter, although it may be later than the 4th century BCE. See Hansen CEG ad loc. For unmetrical verses and combinations of various meters, see the following pages. The following analysis and statistical data are heavily but not solely based on Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 105-121. I reproduce this table compiled by Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 108.

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Table: Dactylo-spondaic sequences 185 Attic a, CE G II (192) 18 (9.63%)

Other, All CE G II Ber nhar d SGO (490) CE G II (293) (150) (101) 15 (14.85%) 33 (11.46%) 38 (25.33%) 84 (17.14%) 0 9 (8.91%)

0 26 (8.87%)

0 10 (6.66%)

1 (.20%) 40 (8.16%)

dddss ddsdd ddssd dsddd

0 17 (8.85%) 0 12 (6.42%) 11 (5.88%) 26 (13.9%)

0 8 (7.92%) 4 (3.96%) 18 (17.82%)

0 20 (6.94%) 15 (5.21%) 44 (15.28%)

1 (.66%) 8 (5.33%) 3 (2%) 29 (19.33%)

1 (.20%) 31 (6.33%) 8 (1.63%) 98 (20%)

dsdds dsdsd dssdd dssds dsssd sdddd sddds sddsd sddss sdsdd sdssd ssddd ssdsd sssdd sssds ssssd

0 21 (10.93%) 15 (8.02%) 1 (.53%) 7 (3.74%) 8 (4.28%) 0 12 (6.25%) 1 (.53%) 12 (6.25%) 8 (4.28%) 9 (4.81%) 6 (3.12%) 5 (2.67%) 0 3 (1.6%)

0 8 (7.92%) 9 (8.91%) 0 4 (3.96%) 5 (4.95%) 0 5 (4.95%) 0 3 (2.97%) 0 4 (3.96%) 5 (4.95%) 3 (2.97%) 1 (.99%) 0

0 29 (9.89%) 24 (8.33%) 1 (.35%) 11 (3.82%) 13 (4.51%) 0 17 (5.80%) 1 (.35%) 15 (5.11%) 8 (2.78%) 13 (4.51%) 11 (3.75%) 8 (2.78%) 1 (.35%) 3 (1.04%)

1 (.66%) 14 (9.33%) 11 (7.33%) 0 0 12 (8%) 0 4 (2.66%) 0 10 (6.66%) 0 7 (4.67%) 0 2 (1.33%) 0 0

ddddd dddds dddsd

Ber nhar d + S GO (640) 122 (19.06%) 1 (.16%) 50 (7.81%)

2 (.31%) 39 (6.09%) 11 (1.72%) 127 (19.84%) 3 (.61%) 4 (.62%) 27 (5.51%) 41 (6.41%) 22 (4.49%) 33 (5.16%) 0 0 4 (.82%) 4 (.62%) 55 (11.22%) 67 (10.47%) 1 (.20%) 1 (.16%) 21 (4.29%) 25 (3.91%) 0 0 24 (4.9%) 34 (5.31%) 2 (.41%) 2 (.31%) 50 (10.20%) 57 (8.91%) 9 (1.84%) 9 (1.41%) 6 (1.22%) 8 (1.25%) 0 0 3 (.61%) 3 (.47%)

The statistics presented at the above table do not display tremendous changes in the process of evolution of the hexameter. In a total of 293186 (192 from Attica and 101 from the rest of the Greek-speaking _____________ 185 186

For Hellenistic inscribed epigrams, Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) have consulted Bernand (1969) and Merkelbach and Stauber (1998-2004). To the statistics compiled by Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) I have added a fiveverse sepulchral epigram from Rhamnous, which was published later than CEG II. See SEG 43 (1993) no. 88 = ΣΕΜΑ 821. With respect to dactylo-spondaic

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world) intact hexameter verses belonging to fourth-century inscribed epitaphs, spondees show a significantly higher frequency, especially in the third and fourth foot. Fantuzzi and Sens rightly observe that “the most obvious conclusion to emerge from the data is that the inscriptions of the Hellenistic period are as a group relatively more restricted in the range of ʻtypesʼ they employ than are the inscriptions of the earlier period.” 187 The two scholars also call attention to the fact that third-century inscribed epigrams show “a greater awareness of the norms inherited from Homer” and “some aspects of the ‘outer metric’ of these inscriptions share interesting points of contact with broader trends to be found in the learned literary epigram of the period.” 188 Another way of reading the above table is to study the ratio of spondees per hexameter foot. Once again, I will use the data offered by Fantuzzi and Sens:189 Table: Percentages of spondees per hexameter-foot th

4 century Attic Other 4th century Total 4th century Bernard SGO Total Hellenistic

1 st 33.3% 25.74% 30.71% 23.32% 34.89% 32.2%

2 nd 49.47% 51.48% 49.48% 42.65% 45.30% 44.69%

3 rd 38.54% 31.68% 36.17% 22.65% 20.41% 20.93%

4 th 44.79% 34.65% 41.29% 21.31% 23.47% 22.97%

5 th 1.04% .99% 1.02% 1.32% 1.21% 1.25%

Our focus will now be on fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs, which are listed in the first row: (a) In the first foot, Attic sepulchral epigrams have almost the same percentage of spondees as their Hellenistic counterparts. Even if we consider the total percentage between fourth-century sepulchral epigrams from all over the Greek-speaking world (30.71%), there are no significant differences with Hellenistic inscribed epigrams. Fantuzzi and Sens190 observe that these figures are “lower than the percentage of spondees in the first foot of the Homeric and Hesiodic hex_____________ 187 188 189 190

sequences the five verses of this epigram can be represented as follows (verses 1-5): sdssd/dddsd/sddsd/dsdsd/ssdsd. Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 109. Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 109. Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 110. (2006) 111.

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ameter,” 191 but “they correspond closely to the figures of early Hellenistic epigrammatists.” 192 In respect of our corpus of fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs, the percentage of first-foot spondees is larger (33.3%) than that of epitaphs from other Greek-speaking areas (25.74%), and that is an important difference. Regional divergence of this sort has to be examined only if observed in the other feet of the hexameter. (b) In the second foot, percentages of spondees display insignificant differences between the 4th century (49.48%) and Hellenistic epigram (44.69%). The same applies to the relevant data concerning both archaic hexameters and Hellenistic literary epigram.193 In this case, spondees are slightly more frequent in fourth-century non-Attic sepulchral epigrams (51.48%) than in Attic ones (49.47%), but the difference is minor. Against the backcloth of the above discussion, one can plausibly argue in favor of the relative stability of hexameter verse from Homer to Hellenistic poetry regarding the number of spondees in the first and second feet. Conversely, the picture changes drastically with respect to the third, fourth, and fifth feet. (c) In the third foot, there is a marked preference for spondees in fourth-century epitaphs (36.17%), especially in the case of Attic (38.54%) ones, while the relevant percentage for the Hellenistic inscribed epigrams is estimated at around 20.93%. The explanation for this difference must be sought in the predominance of the trochaic over the penthemimeral caesura in Hellenistic hexameter.194 (d) In the fourth foot, 41.29% of fourth-century hexameters have a spondee, although we should underscore the significant divergence between the practice of Attic epitaphs (44.79%) and non-Attic epitaphs (34.65%). On the other hand, the fact that in Hellenistic inscribed hexameters the relevant figure is only 22.97% may be explained by the tendency of Hellenistic poets to avoid word end after a contracted fourth biceps (Naekes Law).195 (e) In the fifth foot, fourth-century inscribed hexameters belonging to sepulchral epigrams (1.02%),196 Hellenistic inscribed epigrams _____________ 191 192 193 194 195 196

See West (1966) 93. Cf. van Raalte’s data (1986) 40. Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 111. See Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 111. West (1982) 153. See Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 110. O’ Neill (1942) 166; Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 110. See Allen (1888) 60-61. A noteworthy exception among the corpus of fourthcentury Attic epitaphs is CEG 545 (… Θεογείτ|ων Θυμόχου παῖς). See CEG II ad loc. where it is explained that Θυμόχου stands for Θυμούχου.

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(1.25%) and Hellenistic literary epigram systematically avoid a contracted fifth biceps. The divergence both from archaic (Homeric) practice where 5% of verses have a spondee in the fifth foot (as well as of ʻepicizingʼ Hellenistic hexameters where spondees are used more frequently than in Homeric poetry) is noteworthy.197 In the light of the above examination it can be plausibly maintained that hexameter verses in fourth-century inscribed epitaphs diverge from Hellenistic practice (both inscriptional and literary) in respect of their marked preference for spondees in the third198 and fourth foot. In these cases, regional differences between Attica and the rest of the Greek-speaking world are important, albeit difficult to explain. As far as Hellenistic inscriptions are concerned, the preference for the trochaic caesura in the third foot and of uncontracted biceps in the fourth must be explained by the fact that they are “as a group relatively more restricted in the range of ‘types’ they employ than are the inscriptions from the earlier period.” 199 Within the framework delineated by the above observations, I would like to call attention to the fact that preference for spondees in certain feet of the hexameter line (as shown in fourth-century inscribed epitaphs, especially those coming from Attica) must be linked to other poetic features of the epitaphs, such as the decrease of epic terms and words and the constant recourse to a more personal and standardized vocabulary. The preference for augmented verbal forms facilitated by elision is also a constant feature in fourth-century epitaphs. Whereas in epigrams of the archaic and early classical period, unaugmented (e.g. CEG 10: θάνον; CEG 84: βήτην; CEG 113: θε̃κεν) and augmented forms recalling Homeric practice are both indiscriminately attested, in fourthcentury Attic epitaphs there is a marked preference for augmented forms200 even in cases like CEG 533 (μητέρα ἔθηκα...), where the unaugmented form μητέρα θῆκα could very well have stood metrically.

_____________ 197 198 199 200

See Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 111. For statistics concerning the trochaic caesura in dactylic hexameters from Homer to Nonnus, see van Raalte (1986) 79-80. Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 109. This does not mean that there are no unaugmented forms in fourth-century Attic epitaphs. See Threatte (1996) 502-503, who rightly observes that “both the syllabic and temporal augment are frequently omitted in metrical inscriptions of all periods whenever the omission facilitates the metre.”

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The same goes for CEG 524 (εὐδαίμων δὲ ἔθανον), where εὐδαίμων δὲ θάνον would have been metrically impeccable.201 It seems that since the prevalent factor in the choice between dactyls and spondees in inscriptional poetry at large was the use of familiar forms, then it was all the more natural to use the dactylic hexameter (and pentameter) without its archaic sounding rings, as a metrical form which would be able to accommodate a dialectically unified material that was known to its recipients from everyday practice. The choice, therefore, between the uncontracted form ὀστέα and its contracted equivalent ὀστᾶ (CEG 545) must be sought in the preference shown to familiar forms and not to the liking of an initial dactyl instead of a spondee. Likewise in CEG 550, the use of a spondaic second foot (ζηλοῖ σε Ἑλλὰς πᾶσα) instead of a dactylic one (ζηλοῦ σ’ Ἑλλὰς ἅπασα) is not caused by some predilection for spondees instead of dactyls. The opposite phenomenon is also attested: CEG 568: εἴ σε Tύχη προὔπεμψε... could very well have been εἴ σε Tύχη προέπεμψε.... Once more the choice was not between preferred and not preferred metrical forms but one of tailoring the epitaph’s diction to the liking of its composer.202 The aforementioned examination has underscored the importance given by the anonymous composers of epitaphs (as well as of inscriptional epigrams of the 4th century onwards) to the creation of a familiar and personal tone. The increase of the percentage of the penthemimeral caesura, the augmented verbs and familiar grammatical forms covertly point to the intimacy the epitaphs aimed to express. This intimacy is consonant with the general tendency of fourthcentury Attic inscribed epitaphs to reach the middle ground between the severe style of their archaic predecessors and the deeply personalised exquisiteness we traditionally associate with the learned epigrams of the Hellenistic period. (c2) Inner Metric Let us now proceed by studying the inner metrics of fourth-century inscribed epitaphs. Following Fantuzzi and Sens,203 I have restricted my research to those ʻCallimacheanʼ rules pertaining to the second _____________ 201 202 203

Elision may be functional even when the elided vowel appears on the stone. See CEG 524.5: εὐδαίμων δὲ ἔθανον stands for εὐδαίμων δ᾽ ἔθανον. For further examples from the 6th to the 2nd century, see Allen (1888) 62. Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 114-121.

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half of the hexameter. I first begin by offering an account of these rules and then a list presenting all violations with respect to the observance of certain metrical laws: 1. Third-foot caesura is always observed. 2a. Meyerʼs Third Law: Avoidance of caesura following simultaneously the third and fifth princeps of the hexameter (positions 5 and 9 respectively). 2b. A spondaic word cannot follow the penthemimeral caesura unless the verse also has bucolic diaeresis. 3. Bullochʼs Law: A diaeresis at the end of the third foot is accompanied not only by a regular (‘main’) caesura at positions 5 (penthemimeral) or 5.5 (trochaic) and a bucolic diaeresis, but also a syntactical colon either at the third foot (‘main’) caesura or at the bucolic diaeresis. 4. Naekeʼs Law: Word end after contracted fourth biceps is avoided.204 5. Hermannʼs Bridge: Word break after the fourth-foot trochee is forbidden. 6. Tiedkeʼs Law: Word end after positions 7 (fourth longum) and 9 (fifth longum) is avoided. 7. Monosyllable at verse end is preceded by bucolic diaeresis. (c3) Violations 1. Non-observed third-foot caesura (3): 495.1; 590.4; 603.3. 2a. Meyerʼs Third Law (10): 469.3; 481.2; 522.1; 535.1; 569.4; 571.5; 585.2; 599.4; 600.4; 603.5; ΣΕΜΑ 821.2; ΣΕΜΑ 821.3; ΣΕΜΑ 821.4. 2b. A spondaic word follows the penthemimeral caesura unless the verse also has bucolic diaeresis (33): 467.1; 485.1; 489.3; 501.1; 516.1; 520.4; 524.5; 525.2; 526.4; 526.6; 528.1; 532.2; 534.1; 545.4; 548.6; 548.8; 558.2; 559.2; 563.1; 566.5; 570.5; 571.2; 571.4; 575.4; 585.3; 587.2; 591.7; 591.11; 599.3; 600.2; 606.4; 613.4. 3. Bullochʼs Law (4): 478.1; 505.3; 526.6; 555.1; ΣΕΜΑ 821.4. 4. Naekeʼs Law (22): 478.1, 481.1, 482.3; 483.4; 511.4, 513.2; 537.1; 540.1; 543.1; 543.8; 545.1; 545.3; 546.2; 547.1; 551.2; 555.1; 570.2; 590.2; 592.1; 596.2; 611.1; 623.1; ΣΕΜΑ 821.1. 5. Hermannʼs Bridge (5): 477.2; 505.1; 569.4; 576.3; 600.3. _____________ 204

I have decided to refrain from examining Heinsiusʼ Law, i.e. word end after a fourth dactyl. See Heinsius (1604) 290-385; O’Neill (1942) 166; Fantuzzi (1995) 222.

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6. Tiedkeʼs Law (26): 470.1; 477.2; 480.1; 480.2; 509.1; 518.1; 520.4; 524.5; 526.2; 526.6; 534.1; 544.3; 545.4; 557.3; 558.2; 559.2; 563.1; 566.5; 571.4; 575.3; 590.5; 596.4; 597.4; 599.3; 600.1; 611.2; ΣΕΜΑ 821.3; ΣΕΜΑ 821.4.205 7. Monosyllable at verse end without bucolic diaeresis (2):206 599.3; 623.1 (Naekeʼs law violated). In order to draw solid conclusions concerning the percentage of violations of the so-called ʻCallimacheanʼ rules pertaining to the second part of the hexameter, we need to compare the statistics presented above with those pertaining to Homer on the one hand, and to Hellenistic inscribed hexameters on the other. In the following table I have deliberately drawn a line between hexameters belonging to Attic and non-Attic inscribed epitaphs of the 4th century. Table: Violation of ʻCallimacheanʼ rules pertaining to the second part of the hexameter207 CE G II: Att ic CE G II: Ber na nd SGO (588 sepul c hral Non-A ttic (153 hex.) hex.) epigra ms epigra ms (192 hex.) (137 hex.) Non-observed 3 = 1.60% 1 = 0.72% 3 = 1.96% 8 = 1.36% third-foot caesura Meyerʼs Third 13 = 6.77% 3 = 2.18% 1 = 0.65% 10 = 1.70% Law A spondaic 33 = 17.64% 12 = 8.75% 10 = 6.53% 29 = 4.93% word follows the penthemimeral caesura unless the verse also has bucolic diaeresis

Homer (600 line sample) 208 9 = 1.5%

19 = 3.16 % 12 = 2%

_____________ 205

206 207 208

The use of the formula παῖδας παίδων or παῖδας παίδων + participle (524.5, 563.2, 566.5) is a covert indication that compliance with Tiedkeʼs law was not more important than the use of an expression pertaining to family values, such as continuation of the household and/or the longevity of the deceased. Prepositives, postpositives and enclitics are excluded. See Fantuzzi (1995) 232 n.44. Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 116. Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 119.

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Chapter 4 CE G II: Att ic CE G II: sepul c hral Non-A ttic epigra ms epigra ms (192 hex.) (137 hex.) 5 = 2.60% 0 23 = 11.97% 12 = 8.75% 5 = 2.67% 3 = 2.18%

Bullochʼs Law Naekeʼs Law Hermannʼs Bridge Tiedkeʼs Law 28 = 14.58% Monosyllable at 2 = 1.06% verse end without bucolic diaeresis

4 = 2.91% 1 = 0.72%

Ber na nd SGO (588 (153 hex.) hex.)

Homer (600 line sample) 208

1 = 0.65% 6 = 3.92% 1 = 0.65%

4 = 0.68% 22 = 3.7% 5 = 0.85%

14 = 2.33% 35 = 5.83% 1 = 0.17%

10 = 6.53% 1 = 0.65%

18 = 3.06% 0

15 = 2.50% 3 = 0.5%

The purpose of this detailed examination was to explore the ‘inner metrics’ of this corpus of inscribed epitaphs from fourth-century Attica. I have deliberately laid emphasis on ‘testing’ a set of rather rigid metrical rules or innovations traditionally associated with the second part of the Callimachean hexameter, so as to explore the flexibility of the dactylic hexameters employed by the anonymous authors of our epigrammatic corpus. The results of the analysis conducted above can be summarized as follows: (1) With respect to the violation of third-foot caesura, the relevant data display a remarkable consistency. Differences are virtually insignificant. (2a) Violation of Meyerʼs Third Law shows a higher frequency in fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs (6.77%) than in every other category. It is to be noted that in fourth-century non-Attic inscribed epigrams the rate of violation is much smaller (2.18%) than in Attic epitaphs. (2b) The percentage of cases where a spondaic word follows the penthemimeral caesura unless the verse also has bucolic diaeresis is significantly higher in fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs (17.64%) than in every other category. The rate of violation in nonAttic inscribed epigrams is half (8.75%) than in Attic epitaphs. As far as the Homeric data are concerned, Fantuzzi and Sens rightly argue that “the greater ‘correctness’ of the Homeric sample is probably due to the relatively higher percentage of Homeric verses that do not have word break either after the fourth longum or after the fourth bi-

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ceps or that have a fourth-foot caesura but no break in the third foot.” 209 (3) Violation of Bullochʼs Law (2.60%) in fourth-cetury Attic epitaphs is almost the same as in Homer (2.33%). (4) Naekeʼs Law is violated much more frequently in fourthcentury epigrams, both Attic epitaphs (11.97%) and non-Attic epigrams (8.75%), than in Homer (5.83%) and in Hellenistic inscribed epigrams (ca. 3.8%). In this light, it becomes obvious that both Homer and fourth-century epigrams tend to violate Meyerʼs Third Law, Bulloch’s Law and Naeke’s Law more frequently than Hellenistic inscribed epigrams. (5) Hermannʼs Bridge is more often violated in fourth-century epigrams (ca. 2.42%) than in Homer (0.17%) and Hellenistic inscribed epigram (ca. 0.75%) (6) Regarding violation of Tiedkeʼs Law, fourth-century Attic epitaphs display a significant divergence (14.58%) from both non-Attic fourth-century practice (2.91%) and also from Homer (2.50%) and the Hellenistic non-literary epigram (ca. 4.79%). (7) Regarding the violation of the tendency to have a bucolic diaeresis preceding a monosyllable at verse end, all categories display insignificant differences. In general, fourth-century inscribed epigrams and in particular Attic epitaphs display a stronger tendency to violate ʻCallimacheanʼ norms than both Homer and Hellenistic inscribed epigrams. In particular, fourth-century Attic epitaphs show a notable taste for spondees, which was then replaced by the renewed Hellenistic preference for dactyls, though in different ways than their famous Homeric predecessor. Last but not least, let us briefly look at elision at the ‘main’ caesura of the hexameter.210 Elision is not avoided at the penthemimeral (CEG 485.5; 494.1; 512.2; 514; 531.2; 544.1; 553.5; 578.11; 592.1; 592.5; 593.10) or the trochaic caesura (CEG 564.3; 565.2). Cases like CEG 531.4 (σωφροσύνην δὲ ἤσκησα, ἔλιπον δὲ εὔκλειαν ἀμεμφῆ), CEG 544.2 (ο̣ὗ τὸ χ<ρ>εὼν εἵμ<α>ρται, ὅρα | τέλος ἡμέτερον νῦν)211 and CEG 592.5 (εὐσεβίαι θυγατρὸς δὲ | ἐτάφην ὥσπερ με προσήκει) may be misleading, because there is the impression that elision is avoided even at the expense of hiatus when the foot is a dactyl. In fact, what is really at _____________ 209 210 211

Fantuzzi and Sens (2006) 120. For elision in elegiacs, see West (1982) 157-158. In CEG 531.4 and 544.2 elision is avoided before the caesura even at the expense of hiatus when the foot is a dactyl.

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work here is the exact opposite. Elision is functional in inscriptional epigrams even when not indicated on the stone by the omission of the elided vowel. The decisive question is, of course, whether it is possible to detect the existence of a pattern concerning the writing or omission of the elided vowel when it coincided with the third-foot caesura. Hiatus created by the juxtaposition of the same sounds facilitated but did not necessitate elision.212 A close examination of all the above attestations of elision in the third-foot caesura shows that the elided vowel could be sometimes written at the penthemimeral caesura. This is easily explained by the fact that the slight pause effectuated by the caesura happened before the syllable of the elided vowel. Therefore, the reader of the inscription (just like the composer) could easily ‘bridge’ the two vowels inscribed in a row, thus making the hiatus only visual and not aural. Contrariwise, the elided vowel was never written when occurring at the trochaic caesura, since it (the elided vowel) would be placed (CEG 564.4; 565.2) at the syllable after the caesura, i.e the second short syllable of the third foot. As a result, the reader would not be able to ‘bridge’ the two syllables, which were placed after the brief pause of the trochaic caesura. These observations implicitly indicate that the frequency of elision at the penthemimeral caesura may well be a by-product of the high percentage of penthemimeral caesuras in the extant corpus of fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs. This is further corroborated by the fact that in a significant number of cases the elided vowels belong to elegiac hexameters (followed by a pentameter where the penthemimeral caesura is compulsory) and not stichic. The strong pause at the 5th mora of the pentameter had been ‘anticipated’ by a shorter pause at the penthemimeral caesura of the preceding hexameter, enhanced even more by the elided vowel. Of the eight (8) attestations of not written elided vowels at the penthemimeral caesura, six (6) belong to stichic hexameters (CEG 485.5; 494.1; 512.2; 553.5; 578.11; 593.10). Of the remaining two, the first (CEG 514) belongs to a single (stichic) hexameter, and the second forms part of a category of epitaphs I have coined ‘mixed or aberrant’ forms (CEG 592.1). The same is the case with the two cases where the elided vowel is written (CEG 531.4; 592.5). The first one (CEG 531.4) is preceded by a hexameter line with a penthemimeral caesura, _____________ 212

Allen (1888) 126-157 offers a detailed presentation of various forms of elision in Greek inscribed epigrams. His conclusion is that in the case of prepositions the elided vowel is not written, whereas in the other words “the elided vowel is written between one-third and one-fourth of the time” (155). In the present study, elision is solely studied in respect of its relevance to meter (mainly the third-foot caesura).

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and the third (CEG 592.5) is, as explained above, preceded by four verses (two hexameters and two pentameters) also with a penthemimeral caesura. In this conception, it can be plausibly argued that the anonymous composers of our corpus of fourth-century Attic epitaphs aimed at turning the elegiac couplet into a coherent unity, where hexameter and pentameter would express a completed thought, where sense completion at the end of the second verse would be covertly facilitated by specific metrical factors ‘inviting’ the reader to ‘cross over’ from the first into the second verse. (c4) Unmetrical Verses In this section, I will study two special categories of inscribed epitaphs, those containing unmetrical hexameters and pentameters, and those expressed in mixed metrical forms. (c4.1) Unmetrical Hexameters and Pentameters Certain hexameter and pentameter verses do not scan properly either because the rules governing their metrical pattern are violated or because of the addition of more metrical feet. In CEG 487 the first three hexameters do not scan, whereas the fourth is impeccable: πάντων ἀνθρώπων νόμος ἐ|στὶ κοινὸς τὸ ἀποθανε̃ν. : | ἐνθάδε κεῖται Θεοίτης παῖς | Tελέσωνος Tεγεάτας Tεγε|άτο ´ καὶ μητρὸς Nικαρέτης | χρηστῆς γε γυναικός. : χαίρε|τε οἱ παρι<ό>ντες, ἐγὼ δέ γε τἀ|μὰ φυ<λά>ττω.

The reasons explaining the metrical problems of these lines are either the erroneous alteration of a formulaic expression (the composer has in mind expressions like πᾶσι θανεῖν <ε>ἵμαρτα<ι> [CEG 518] and [π]άντων ὧν θέμις ἐστί [CEG 577] beginning a hexameter line) or the use of names, which are too numerous (2: Θεοίτης... Tελέσωνος Tεγεάτας Tεγε|άτο:)213 or misplaced (3: Nικαρέτης). Another source of metrical fault was the insertion of words or expressions within a standardized dictional framework, which had acquired metrical regularity. These insertions were often triggered by _____________ 213

See also Allen (1888) 47.

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the composer’s attempt to add a personal touch to the formulaically impersonal and distant phrasing of the epitaph. In CEG 491, the impeccable pentameter σώφρων καὶ χρηστὴ πᾶσαν ἔχουσ’ ἀρετήν completing a nice elegiac couplet was interrupted by the insertion of the words καὶ ἐργάτις. The result was the unmetrical verse σώφρων καὶ χρηστὴ καὶ | ἐργάτις πᾶσαν ἔχουσα | ἀρετ{ι}ήν. In CEG 492, the second hexameter (χαίρετε δ’ οἱ π|αριόντες, | ἐ<γ>ὼ δὲ λι|πὼν πατρίδ|α ἐνθάδε κεῖ|μαι) has seven feet. This accretion has probably resulted from the addition of the phrase λιπὼν πατρίδα between two separate expressions: χαίρετε δ’ οἱ π|αριόντες, ἐγὼ δὲ (cf. CEG 487.4) and ἐνθάδε κεῖμαι, the latter being commonly (529, 530, 537, 540, 552, 569 etc.) employed as the closing cadence of the hexameter in inscribed epitaphs. In this case, the composerʼs attempt to accommodate a detail pertaining to the personal data of the deceased’s past life (his dying away from home) within a formulaic and standardized metrical environment resulted in a seven-feet hexameter.214 In CEG 525, it is word substitution, which has caused a metrical problem. The epitaph runs as follows: (i) Γλυκέρα Θουκλείδου. (ii) ὁ̃ σπάνις ἐστὶ γυνα<ι>κί, ἐσθλὴν καὶ σώφρονα φῦναι | τὴν αὐτήν, δοκίμως τοῦδ’ ἔτυχεγ Γλυκέρα.

The form ἀγαθήν has been ‘replaced’ in the inscription by ἐσθλήν. 215 CEG 539.1 (ἐνθάδε τὴν ἀγαθὴν καὶ σώφρονα γαῖ᾽ ἐκάλυψεν) shows that ἀγαθή was one of the adjectives attributed to women and, more importantly, in juxtaposition to σώφρονα. We can, therefore, rather safely claim that the more common adjective ἀγαθή used for women in fourth-century inscribed epigrams (494, 539) was substituted by ἐσθλή. In that case the iota of the dative γυναικί would have either been elided or even consonantalized. CEG 698.1 (πατρί τε Δαμοτ̣[ίωνι, Ἀρ]ετάγενες, ἠδέ σοι αὐ[τῶι]) offers an excellent parallel, as Hansen has rightly observed.216 The extremely inflexible metrical pattern of the pentameter, which could substitute dactyls with spondees only in the first he_____________ 214 215

216

Pace Gallavotti (1979) 22-23. See CEG 525, where Hansen rightly dismissed the posssibility that ἐσθλήν had replaced καλήν, since the latter adjective is never used in metrical funerary inscriptions before the 3rd century BCE, whereas ἐσθλήν is employed once (CEG 167). See Hansen CEG 698 ad loc.

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miepes, made it impossible for names scanning (Ó Ó Ô Ó) to fit in. This seemed to have caused much trouble to the anonymous composers of inscribed epigrams.217 CEG 539.2 (Ἀρχεστράτην ἀνδρὶ ποθεινοτάτην) amply indicates this problem, especially when compared to CEG 543.2 (Λυσάνδρου Πιθέως | Ἀρχεστράτη ἔγγονε, καὶ νῦ[ν] |), where the name Ἀρχεστράτη is well integrated into the metrical structure of the hexameter. Another source of metrical confusion was the pressure exercised by a ‘model’ on the composer’s mind. In CEG 595.2, the following epigram by Simonides (FGE 8 = AP 7.253 = GVI 28) has no doubt influenced the anonymous composer of the epitaph:218 εἰ τὸ καλῶς θνῄσκειν ἀρετῆς μέρος ἐστὶ μέγιστον, ἡμῖν ἐκ πάντων τοῦτ᾽ ἀπένειμε Tύχη· Ἑλλάδι γὰρ σπεύδοντες ἐλευθερίην περιθεῖναι κείμεθ᾽ ἀγηράτῳ χρώμενοι εὐλογίῃ.

CEG 595.2 reading εἰ τὸ καλῶς ἔστι θανεῖν, κἀμοὶ τοῦτ᾽ ἀπένειμε Tύχη consists, as Allen has put it, “of reminiscences, patched together without regard for sense or metre.” 219 The aforementioned observations show that (a) the pressure exercised by traditional material, (b) the attempt to create innovative combinations by inserting new expressions or changing the old ones, and (c) the accommodation of names in the metrical pattern of the hexameter and/or pentameter sometimes resulted in unmetrical verses. What is significant, however, is that the composers of these epitaphs tried to modify, at times, traditional patterns on the one hand and put to good use dictional loans from poetry on the other, even at the expense of metrical regularity. In that sense, unmetrical verses are extremely important for they implicitly speak for the constant attempt to innovate within the pressing limits of a traditional expressive and metrical medium.

_____________ 217 218 219

See also CEG 169.2 (Φανοκ|ρίτη παιδὶ | χαριζομ|ένη); Allen (1888) 46. See Allen (1888) 38. I strongly disagree with Gallavotti (1979) 19.

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(c4.2) Combined Forms220 CEG 530 is an interesting combination of two hexameters followed by two trochaic tetrameters catalectic:221 χαῖρε τάφος Mελίτης· χρηστ|ὴ γυνὴ ἐνθάδε κεῖται· v φιλοῦντα | ἀντιφιλοῦσα τὸν ἄνδρα Ὀνήσιμ|ον ἦσθα κρατίστη· v τοιγαροῦν ποθεῖ | θανοῦσάν σε, ἦσθα γὰρ χρηστὴ γυνή. v Ó | καὶ σὺ χαῖρε φίλτατ’ ἀνδρῶν, ἀλλὰ | τοὺς ἐμοὺς φίλει.

Gallavotti’s analysis,222 according to which this is an example of a lyric strophe (the second verse being “un periodo alcmanico”), is completely off the mark. Kaibel’s223 observation that the participle φιλοῦντ(α) comes from another, fuller text (‘ex meliore archetypo expressa’) is interesting, given the fact that the expression φιλεῖν ἀντιφιλεῖν is attested in Plato (Lys. 212c-d)224 and Aristotle (Eth. Nic. 1155b28, 1157b30, 1159a30; Eth. Eud. 1236b2). Geffcken225 offers as parallels Sem. 7.86 and Theoc. 17.38-40, and sides with Kaibel. Conversely, Hansen argues that the participle φιλοῦντ(α) was added, possibly by Melite’s husband, to the hexameter ἀντιφιλοῦσα τὸν ἄνδρα Ὀνήσιμ|ον ἦσθα κρατίστη ‘perspicuitatis causa’, for the sake of clarity of exposition. His argument is supported by CEG 900226 (Γοργίας φιλε̣ῖ̣ [Τα]μῦνιν, | καὶ Tαμῦνις Γοργίαν / φιλ[εῖ]), where the verb φιλεῖ, which is easily understood by the syntax of the first verse, is added to the beginning of the second line that is not continued. This last acute observation by Hansen turns the scales in favor of the addition theory. Thus, the parallel passages from Semonides, Plato and Aristotle mentioned above indicate the alternative reasons for the addition of the participle φιλοῦντ(α). The pressure exercised by a rather common expression (in this respect the examples of contemporary texts such as those of Plato and Aristotle become very important) may well have influenced the composer of the inscription who has thus ‘enlarged’ _____________ 220

221 222 223 224 225 226

I have excluded CEG 622 from the following examination because it may not belong to the 4th century BCE. See Hansen CEG 622 ad loc. with strong and convincing arguments against a fourth-century dating of this epigram. See CEG 530 with Hansen’s notes. (1979) 26-27. (1878) 26, no. 79. See also Phdr. 255d: εἴδωλον ἔρωτος ἀντέρωτα ἔχων. (1916) 55, ep. 148. From Egypt, 4th century BCE.

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the epitaph’s second hexameter. On the other hand, the anonymous versifier has taken great pains to indicate to his readers ‘how’ they should read this inscribed epigram: by leaving a single-letter space after the completion of verses 1, 2, and 3, he tried to facilitate their ‘reading’ of the epigram’s complex meter. One is, therefore, tempted to argue that the placement of φιλοῦντ(α) at the very end of the second inscribed line and after a single-letter space separating it from the previous verse shows that the composer could compensate for his unmetrical addition by the use of visual markers which isolated the participle φιλοῦντ(α). If one looks at the stone, he/she will notice that φιλοῦντ(α) can be visually optional, since the reader can read it but also skip it metrically.227 CEG 571 is the most complex epitaph with respect to its metrical structure. Gallavotti’s attempt to locate and analyze it in lyric cola is not only unsatisfactory but founded on a wrong premise as well. To put it bluntly: in this way all Greek metrical inscriptions could be analyzed one way or another, the more so if scholars came up with metrical patterns not mentioned in one of the most authoritative books on Greek meter.228 It is far less ambitious than Gallavotti’s attempt but more scientifically sound to simply state that the composer of this epitaph, probably Hippostrate herself,229 created an unmetrical epigram, where only three verses can be undoubtedly identified as dactylic hexameters, as indicated below: (i) [[Mέλιττα]] Ἀπολλοδώρου | ἰσοτελοῦ θυγάτηρ | (ii) Mέλιττα | (iii) τίτθη. (iv) ἐνθάδε τὴν χρηστὴν τ̣ί̣[τθ]ην κατὰ γαῖα καλύπτ|ει Ἱπποστράτης, καὶ νῦν π[ο]θ̣εῖ σε. καὶ ζῶσάν σ’ ἐφίλ|ουν, τίτθη, καὶ νῦν σ’ ἔτι τιμῶ 4 οὖσαν καὶ κατὰ γῆς, | καὶ τιμήσω σε ἄχρι ἂν ζῶ. οἶδα δὲ σοὶ ὅτι καὶ κατὰ [γ]|ῆς, εἴπερ χρηστοῖς γέρας ἐ̣στίν, πρώτει σοι τι̣[μα]|ί, τίτθη, παρὰ Φερσεφόνει Πλούτωνί τε κεῖνται.

Various factors may have contributed to the creation of this metrical muddle. After the initial hexameter (line 3), the use of the name of Hippostrate (scanning like an iambic metron Ó Ó Ô Ó) renders both a _____________ 227 228

229

For the combination of trochaic tetrameters catalectic with dactylic hexameters, see West (1982) 160 n. 78. See Hansen’s review (1984) 286-289, where this particular point has been made. Despite my efforts I was unable to find in West’s Greek Metre any reference to Gallavotti’s “periodo alcmanico” (1979, 26). Hansen CEG 571 ad loc.

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hexameter or pentameter line impossible.230 Lines 4-5 are both dactylic hexameters but not heavily formulaic like the initial dactylic hexameter. Lines 6-7 are also dactylic but with 7 and 8 dactyls respectively. The metrical problems in line 6 originate from the use of the phrase οἶδα δὲ σοὶ ὅτι causing the displacement of the conjunction εἴπερ of the conditional at the second part of the verse, which is against standard practice.231 An impeccable hexameter expressing almost the same thought would have been εἴπερ καὶ κατὰ γῆς, τίτθη, χρηστοῖς γέρας ἐστίν.232 By employing a strongly asseverative expression (such as οἶδα δὲ σοὶ ὅτι) the composer of the inscription wanted to emphasize and, therefore, increase the credibility of the last verse concerning the great honor the nurse would receive in the Underworld. This addition resulted in the awkward positioning of the conjunction εἴπερ and the subsequent violation of the length of a dactylic hexameter verse. As far as the last line is concerned, the unnecessary additions of τίτθη in the third foot and κεῖνται at line end, but most of the use of Πλούτωνι, a hapax in fourth-century inscribed epigrams, have metrically distorted this hexameter. (c5) Coterminacy and Enjambment233 By coterminacy I designate the coincidence between semantic completion and verse end. In this case, i.e. when the verse is isometric and can therefore stand on its own, the continuation in the next verse depends on the composer or poet. Coterminacy and enjambment are not mutually exclusive, since types 1a and 1b (adding internal and adding external) display a rather optional form of continuation in the next line, despite their semantic and grammatical completeness at verse end. Here follow the statistics of enjambment types in the extant corpus of fourth-century Attic epitaphs: _____________ 230 231 232 233

See also CEG 539.2 and the analysis above. See CEG 559; 575; 594; 595; 600; 603. With a word break after position 7 in the fourth spondaic foot. The bibliography on enjambment in dactylic hexameters is immense but the most important modern discussions can be limited to the following: Bassett (1926) 116-148; Parry (1929) 200-220 (= 1971, 251-265); Lord (1948) 113-24; Edwards (1966) 115-179; Kirk (1966) 105-52 (= 1976, 146-182); Clayman and van Nortwick (1977) 85-92; Barnes (1979) 1-10; Edwards (1986) 171-230; Bakker (1990) 1-21; Higbie (1990); Clark (1994) 85-114; Clark (1997); Friedrich (2000) 1-19.

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Table A Typ e O

Typ e 1a Typ e 1b (adding (adding internal) extern al) 32 (ph) 10 (ph) 6 (ph) 3 (hp) 37 (hp) 7 (hp) 14 (hh) 18 (hh) 6 (hh) 1 (pp) 5 (pp) Total: 50 Total: 70 Total: 19 19.60% 27.45% 7.45%

Typ e 2 Typ e 3 Typ e 4 Total 234 (clau sal) (nec es sar y) (viol ent)

9 (hp) 3 (hh)

8 (ph) 63 (hp) 10 (hh)

Total: 12 Total: 81 4.70% 31.37%

24 (ph) 17 (hp) 133 (hp) 5 (hh) 42 (hh) 1 (pp) 6 (pp) Total: 23 9.01%

In discussing enjambment in fourth-century Attic epitaphs, one should interpret the relevant statistics with great caution given the fact that we are dealing with at least two related but not completely homologous metrical patterns, the dactylic hexameter and the elegiac couplet. To this end, I have used a system of differentation based on the nature of the enjambed lines, not only on the type of enjambment employed. Given that fourth-century Attic epitaphs are composed in dactylic hexameters, elegiac couplets or pentameters awkardly followed by either a single hexameter or even another pentameter, I have used the following abbreviations indicating the metrical nature of the enjambed lines (see previous Table): ph = enjambment between a preceding pentameter and an ensuing hexameter hp = enjambment between a preceding hexameter and an ensuing pentameter hh = enjambment between two hexameters pp = enjambment between two pentameters Table A shows that two basic divisions are well supported by the data: (a) 19.60% or ca. one in five verses of the extant corpus of epitaphs (255 verses) are unenjambed, and (b) among the enjambed verses representing an overwhelming majority (80.4%), the most common types of enjambment are the necessary one (31.37%) and the adding internal (27.45%). Conversely, these statistics may be rather misleading, _____________ 234

The statistics included in this column refer to the sum of enjambed verses, not to Type O (first column) that stands for unenjambed verses.

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because they tend to ignore the fact that both types of adding enjambment (adding internal and adding external) are ‘optional’, in the sense that, since they are preceded by semantic and grammatical completion at verse end, it is the poet’s choice to continue in the next line. This being the case, a more functional division should be made between unenjambed and potentially unenjambed verses, and verses with causal, necessary and violent enjambment, where the poet was bound to continue across the verse in order to achieve semantic and grammatical completion of the sentence. If we apply this functional division to our corpus of fourth-century Attic epitaphs, then we can see that the unenjambed and potentially enjambed verses (adding internal and adding external) represent 54.5%, whereas compulsory (causal, necessary, violent) enjambment stands for the remaining 45.5%. This approximate equilibrium must not be interpreted in comparison to other forms of purely stichic hexametric (Homer, Hesiod, the Homeric Hymns) or elegiac (early or late) poetry, for, as the abbreviations in parenthesis indicate, the relevant statistics depend on different forms of verses. Therefore, one needs to examine enjambment as represented in Table A horizontally, namely by comparing stichic hexameters with stichic hexameters of earlier poetry, elegiac hexameters and pentameters with elegiac hexameters and pentameters of earlier poetry. The following table displays the frequency (%) of Enjambment Types in Greek Elegy and those fourth-century Attic Epitaphs composed in elegiac couplets:235 Table B Enjam bment Typ e Early Elegy Late Elegy Fourth-century Attic Epitaphs

0

1a

1b

2

3

4

25.9 14.5 2.25

21 14.5 27.81

8.9 2.8 5.26

4.7 2.8 6.76

28.8 41.6 47.36

7 18.8 12.78

The most noteworthy feature of Table B is the low percentage (2.25%) of coterminous or unenjambed verses of the epigrammatic corpus under discussion. The relevant figures for early and late elegy being 25.9% and 14.5% display a significant difference. As in early and late _____________ 235

The statistics concerning Early and Late Elegy are based on Barnes (1995) 139.

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elegy coterminous verses decrease, so it is the case with fourthcentury Attic epitaphs. In the course of the evolution of the elegiac couplet, poets felt a stronger need to turn the distich into a uniform entity, where semantic and grammatical completion should be attained not before the end of the second verse (the pentameter). The progressive decrease in the number of enjambed pentameters resulted in the compensatory increase of enjambed hexameters, “thus curtailing monotonous sequences of unenjambed lines.” 236 As if there was a ‘domino’ effect, the number of adding and necessary (mainly) enjambments increased. In fact, the high percentage of necessary enjambment may be explained by the fact that this form of crossing over from one verse to another does not converge with the end of a clause and/or a line. Being compulsory, necessary enjambment allowed poets to undermine the closing cadence of the hexameter and necessitate the transference of meaning and reading to the next verse. Barnes has rightly observed that “the greater frequency of ICB237 at position 8, most often resulting in necessary enjambment, reflects the elegists’ proclivity to avoid a break in the sense of the clause at the end of the hexameter, in order to integrate the two lines of the couplet into a complete semantic unit.” 238 Read against this backcloth, the inner metrics of elegiac hexameters are affected by the outer metric of the elegiac couplet. Extending further this line of thought, one may argue that the particular metrical style of our corpus of epigrams reflects the importance the elegiac hexameter has acquired as the metrical foil within which the epitaph is presented. In fact, the differences from earlier elegy, where a rather ‘residually oral’239 style has been discerned as well as from the tradition of pure, stichic hexameters that earlier inscribed epigrams regularly used, covertly indicate that epigrammatic poetry in fourth-century Athens has begun to acquire a form of poetic autonomy. These observations become all the more important, when we look at the statistics concerning fourth-century Attic epitaphs presented in Table B. The almost complete disappearance of coterminous, unenjambed lines (2.25%) was accompanied by a ‘compensatory’ rise of the percentage of necessary (47.36%) and adding internal enjambment (27.81%). These figures acquire their full semantic potential when they are juxtaposed with the comparative statistics drawn from early _____________ 236 237 238 239

Barnes (1995) 142. ICB stands for ‘internal-clause boundary’. Barnes (1995) 149. See Barnes (1995) 144.

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and late elegy. Whereas in late elegy, type 4 (violent enjambment) is the only kind (apart from necessary enjambment) displaying a higher percentage, in fourth-century Attic epitaphs violent enjambment decreases (12.78%) and all the other types increase significantly. The vertical statistics offered in Table A show that most of the unenjambed lines involve pentameters (32) in elegiac couplets. The pentameter often marking the completion of a larger sense unit covertly indicates that the preceding hexameter (unlike the stichic hexameter) does not represent an independent verse-form but “functions as an integral and organic component of the couplet as a whole.” 240 As a result, the overwhelming majority (133) of enjambments occur between the preceding elegiac hexameters and the ensuing pentameters in elegiac couplets. Within this last category, necessary enjambment is the most often attested type, followed by adding internal enjambment. The conclusion drawn from these statistics is that there is a constant effort on the part of the composers of fourth-century Attic epitaphs to expand sentence-boundaries across the hexameter line. To this end, they have made ample use of the elegiac couplet, which increases in numbers (replacing both the stichic hexameter and the iambic trimeter) and they have subsequently tried to ‘carry’ the meaning to the next verse by bridging the clause over the end of the hexameter.241 This crossing of verse-boundaries was effectuated mainly by necessary enjambment, a type of semantic continuation in the following verse, which made it compulsory for the reader to ‘go on’ and read the next verse until he perceives the full meaning of the sentence. Within the ‘optional’ category of adding enjambment, the use of adding internal enjambment (much more than adding external) shows that the anonymous composers of the epitaphs carried out syntactical manipulation in a rather paratactic manner. In this light, it can be plausibly argued that the anonymous composers of fourth-century Attic epitaphs aimed at integrating the elegiac hexameter more fully into the ensuing pentameter, thus making the whole distich a distinct and coherent semantic unity. This ‘expan_____________ 240 241

Barnes (1995) 158. For the iambic trimeter, see Kantzios (2005) 133-142, who states that Attic epitaphs dating between the 8th and the 5th centuries BCE are composed in 13 hexameters, 64 elegiac couplets, 3 iambic trimeters and 15 dactylic verses. The relevant numbers and percentages for fourth-century Attic epitaphs (my estimate is based on CEG II) are the following: Hexameter Inscriptions: 45; Elegiac Couplets: 91; Mixed and Aberrant Forms: 26; Iambic Trimeters: 1 (CEG 622?).

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sion tendency’ may well reflect the growing autonomy of the elegiac couplet, which is now considered to be the only appropriate metrical structure for the composition of epigrams.

Conclusion In the first chapter, I discussed why a sub-genre of wisdom-speech such as the gnome has ‘invaded’ the genre of epigram, in particular grave epigram, and how the former has been incorporated by and integrated with the latter. Gnomic expressions used in fourth-century Attic grave epigrams are examined from an oral, performative aspect as manifestations of wisdom literature familiar to all members of a community at a given time and space. Grave epigrams are, of course, inscribed on stone but interpreting their function and meaning has to take into consideration the entire monument they form part of as well as their oral role. The alleged intermediality of inscriptional epigram that is read aloud by future passers-by is of crucial importance for the formation of a new semantic unity of both object and text. The anonymous versifiers of epitaphs in fourth-century Athens deftly employ gnomic statements to explore and thematise some of the most typical concerns of inscribed epigrams: the relation between the public display of the monument and the inscription vs the private nature of the commemoration, the ‘gaining of an audience’ vs ‘controlling’ the epigram’s reception by delineating its context and selecting in advance the monument’s placement, and last but not least the synergetic activity of both author and reader in the process of interpretation. Maxims are therefore explored as a constituent part of the staging of epitaphs by future readers, who need to read aloud the scriptio continua they see inscribed on the stone, in order to make sense of it. This form of orality amounts more or less to a recontextualization of the written text that the audience is bound to perform. The oral nature of maxims as a kind of wisdom speech-act invites the reader to actively cooperate in a decoding process that will make the memory of the deceased alive again through the endless reenactment of the initial commemoration. Maxims embedded in private epitaphs display certain structural and stylistic features pertaing to their performativity. The use of quantificatory devices, both absolute and comparative, reflects the gnome’s generalizing function, which is inherent in its very nature. Spatial deixis plays a key role with respect to the localization of the focus of interest, since it aims at determining the way the readers should comprehend the relation between a generalizing statement

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(expressed by the gnome) and an individualized reference pertaining only to the specific monument they are looking at. Evaluative terminology usually expressed by an adverb and placed in the tenor, which follows and caps the gnome, functions as a foil for the expression of a particular point concerning the deceased. The tenseless present and the gnomic aorist are the most frequently used tenses in the corpus of gnomic statements attested in fourthcentury Attic grave epigrams. This lack of fixed temporality allows the action to be situated out of time giving to it an authority independent from time-constraints and imbued with the prestige of an allembracing reality. By incorporating widely acknowledged cultural views presented from a timeless perspective, the anonymous composers of private epitaphs are thus able to bridge the gap between the singularity of a person’s death and the duration of its commemoration in time. In order to make the duality described above collapse, private epitaphs avail themselves of alternative emphasis-attributing mechanisms. To this end, the particle καί aims at annulling the discontinuity of the functional hiatus between the generalizing force of the maxim and the particular deceased commemorated in a private epitaph. Being also closely linked to the use of a first-person ethical dative, καί constitutes a means of conferring covertly expressed praise on the departed by tying them to the community of maxim-designated referants. As far as the style of gnomic statements is concerned, the εἰ-clause functions as a foil for a particular point of interest to be made. By delineating a framework, such a ‘preparatory’ device situates the reader of the epitaph with respect to the beliefs and ideas against which the deceased will be measured. At the same time, the use of a conditional clause, which by its very nature reduces the absolute certainty expressed by an affirmative statement, results in the ‘subjective’ filtering and ‘personalisation’ of the gnome, i.e. in the making of the general truth expressed by the maxim emotionally suitable for the focaliser, the deceased or the reader. In this way, the gnome, while not loosing anything regarding its objectivity and applicability, gains in emotional appeal. In particular, it acquires a consolatory tone either by making it clear that what has happened to the deceased is common to all men or by indirectly praising the dead person through the recollection or reminding of his/her positive qualities. This tightly spaced structural device constitutes the syntactical highlight of the incorporation of maxims in the framework of private epitaphs and epitomizes perfectly the engagement of the reader in the process of contextualization and subsequent interpretation of the inscription.

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Since reading aloud a metrical epitaph means to perform and contextualize it anew, maxims may contribute immensely to our understanding of the very mechanics of such a profoundly complicated process. By placing gnomic statements at the beginning of metrical epitaphs, the anonymous versifiers are able to highlight their argumentative function, since they support the main idea expressed in the tenor of the epigram containing the typical address to the deceased. At the same time, the generalizing force of the gnome bridges the gap between the private commemoration of an individual and the public display of the monument, because of the familiarity and widespread approval of the maximʼs content. By pointing to social situations and communicating widely acknowledged human concerns in traditional language, maxims would engage the future readers of the inscriptions, who would recognize in them their own beliefs. The consolation conveyed by the gnome1 lies exactly in its ability to effectively alleviate the pain for the loss of an individual by making grief part of a widely shared experience (i.e. death) whose inevitability is common to all. Being recognizable by large audiences, celebrating popular wisdom at its best, and enjoying undisputed authority, gnomic expressions endow private epitaphs with uncontestable prestige regarding both their content and the deceased they commemorate. In the second chapter, I explored two recurrent forms of poetic imagery attested in fourth-century Attic epitaphs, the light-metaphor and the chambers of Persephone, which stand for the two ends of a figurative iter of the deceased who leaves the world of the living in order to go to the realm of the dead. The study of poetic imagery within the context of inscriptional epitaphs reveals the multiple levels upon which the interpretation of sepulchral epigrams must be based. The complex monument-text, literary associations emanating from the conscious use of motifs and expressions, religious and cultural concepts concerning the dead during the 4th century, as well as a consistent effort to confer on these brief compositions poetic coloring, all these parameters have to be taken into account in order to appreciate the epitaphs’ subtle technique of producing meaning. The use of the light-metaphor for connoting death has its attested prehistory going back to the Homeric epics. Interestingly enough, this _____________ 1

See Aristotle (Rhet. 1395b1-6): ἔχουσι δ’ εἰς τοὺς λόγους βοήθειαν μεγάλην μίαν μὲν διὰ τὴν φορτικότητα τῶν ἀκροατῶν· χαίρουσι γὰρ ἐάν τις καθόλου λέγων ἐπιτύχῃ τῶν δοξῶν ἃς ἐκεῖνοι κατὰ μέρος ἔχουσιν. ὃ δὲ λέγω δῆλον ἔσται ὧδε, ἅμα δὲ καὶ πῶς δεῖ ταύτας θηρεύειν. ἡ μὲν γὰρ γνώμη, ὥσπερ εἴρηται, ἀπόφανσις καθόλου ἐστίν, χαίρουσι δὲ καθόλου λεγομένου ὃ κατὰ μέρος προϋπολαμβάνοντες τυγχάνουσι.

312

Conclusion

is not a static formula but a rather dynamic expression effectively manipulated by the composers of sepulchral epigrams in order to create a personal tone. In particular, I have explored the followings uses: (a) The light-metaphor is split by inserting the deceased’s name in the vocative (… οἷος ἐὼν ἔλιπες, / Nικόβ|ολε, ἠελίο λαμπρὸμ φῶς …). This ‘engraftment’ results in the blurring of the boundaries between life and death, since the reader has the impression that the deceased himself is the shining light of life. (b) By conjuring another formulaic expression (παῖδας παίδων ἐπιδών/ἐπιδοῦσα), the author of an epitaph produces a subtle interplay between the loss of the figurative light of life and the literal ‘seeing while being alive’ one’s grandchildren. (c) By altering traditional material, the epitaphs’ authors are able to revise and extend the traditional framework of the expression’s application. Contrary to the aforementioned use of the light-metaphor, this time it is ingeniously suggested that a newborn’s advent to the light of life was effectuated through his mother’s ‘departure from that same light’, i.e. her death while being at labor. (d) In view of current fourth-century perceptions concerning the γέρας of the deceased, an epic-colored expression such as that of the light-metaphor is blended with legal-oriented vocabulary, so that it is consonant with current fourth-century ideas and preoccupations. (e) The light-metaphor δήμου φῶς is a fascinating dictional coinage amounting to an implicit measuring of the deceased’s praise in civicstemming terminology. By placing this innovative expression at the beginning of the last part of the inscription, where arete and sophrosyne are highlighted, it becomes clear that the light-metaphor has been accommodated to the social and cultural context of fourth-century Athens, evolving into a praise-conferring device. (f) Through the fusion of new dictional combinations such as λιπεῖν ἡλίου αὐγάς and expressions referring to age, the release of emotions is greatly facilitated, the more so when untimely death (mors immatura) is concerned. (g) In a single case, the light-metaphor is mixed with Empedoclean beliefs, creating a personal filter through which the deceased’s friends addressed in the same inscription and sharing relevant doctrines are invited to read the epitaph. The expression referring to the Underworld as Φερσεφόνης θάλαμος is not used before the 4th century and seems to have replaced expressions such as δῶμα or δώματα Ἀΐδαο/Ἅδου. Although an Eleusinian filter cannot be screened out, it is more cautious to explore the

Conclusion

313

Persephone-metaphor within a wider political and religious matrix. The use of this imagery serves the following functions: (a) It enhances the interplay between erotic and military vocabulary for a deceased male who died while defending his fatherland. (b) In the case of a deceased female, it facilitates the fusion of the bridal phase of a woman’s life with her arrival at the house of the dead. By exploiting these aspects of Persephone’s myth, which had been particularly used by Euripidean tragedy and diffused by the Great Mysteries and the Thesmophoria, the anonymous authors of epitaphs were able to shape their subject matter, in order to invite their audience to make full use of their cultural knowledge and, thus, get actively involved in the process of interpretation. (c) The combination of the Persephone-imagery with the light- and road-metaphors aims at helping the audience recognize distinct parts of the ritual and myth pertaining to Persephone. In particular, the light-imagery alluded to that phase in the Great Mysteries held at Eleusis, when the priest’s exit from the Telestereion was followed by an abundance and diffusion of light. Moreover, the road-metaphor, indicating that the journey of life was brought to an end, had a special relevance to Persephone’s myth, since Demeter had wandered for a long time in search of her daughter, until it was revealed to her that the Kore had been abducted and brought to the Underworld. (d) The audience’s knowledge of the Thesmophoria allowed the composers of certain epitaphs to imbue their compositions with allusions to this festival. In a τίτθη-inscription, the mentioning of Pluton (Wealth) together with Persephone is indicative of the positive side of Hades that was current during the 4th century. Moreover, this reference is accompanied by an allusion to Demeter’s mythical disguise into an old nurse who raised Demophon. Given that the symbolic adoption of mortals by divine nurses is of paramount importance both to the Homeric Hymn to Demeter and to the Thesmophoria, and that the deceased nurse of the inscription was called Mελίτη, a name with unmistakable associations to Persephone and Demeter, it is obvious that Hippostrate, as author of the inscription, may have tried to create a link between the deceased’s name and profession and the myth of Demeter and Kore. In this conception, the final reference to Persephone and Pluton would have been all the more appealing. In another epitaph, the cultic background of the Thesmophoria is also taken for granted, the more so since the deceased girl would have participated in the Thesmophoria as a married woman, if she had not died young. (e) The metaphor of Persephone’s chamber is also exploited in combination with traditional lore pertaining to Athenian autoch-

314

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thony. To that end, some of the semantic nuances of the word θάλαμος are exploited, in an attempt to induce the audience into the cicada myth inextricably linked to a symbolic passage to another, renewed life. (f) Persephone’s chamber is also used in connection with orphic beliefs such as Ἀνάγκη Περσεφόνη, striking a balance between the inescapability of death on the one hand, and a certain ‘fine end’ because of civic immortality that is colored by eschatological beliefs on the other. In the third chapter, I mapped out the way the social context of fourth-century Athens interacts with the content and diction of private epitaphs. I began by studying the typology of arete and sophrosyne acquiring a civic orientation and being indiscriminately attributed to both men and women. These concepts have now lost their aristocratic coloring and have become emblems of a socially determined praise of the deceased, the civic measures of both male and female eulogy. In particular, the entire range of praise vocabulary that is employed aims at widening the horizon of the epitaphs’ readers and attracting the widest possible audiences. To this end, praise is now redirected towards social aspects of life, such as family, age, and profession. The theoretical background for the exploration and analysis of this material is based on what has been called the ‘thick and thin’ theory. By this term I am designating an intermediate sphere of activity, a dynamic synthesis between the public and private domains of life, which I think is of special importance for the study of societies in transition, such as fourth-century Athens. The oscillation between the civic and the domestic is consonant with both the complexity of Athenian society and with the liminality of grave stelae resisting clear-cut polarities. I have, therefore, examined three socially oriented categories (family, age, and profession) on the basis of gender representation. With respect to family, women are commonly designated as wives (ca. 41.52%), mothers (ca. 25.64%), and only occasionally as daughters and granddaughters. These statistics testify to the preeminence of their role in the new oikos they belong. Conversely, there is no preference for any single role in the case of men. On the other hand, of particular importance is their covert designation as grandfathers, since it indicates increased concern for the preservation of the family-line. At the same time, this implicit reference to one’s longevity may be seen as a sort of ‘joking-relationship’ with grandchildren in contrast to hidden tensions with one’s own children. Age is regularly commemorated in fourth-century Attic epitaphs. Youth and old age stand for the two phases of human life that are po-

Conclusion

315

etically exploited by funerary poetry at large, since they blend in quite effectively with two basic approaches to the event of death: the former is a negative one, because the deceased have died early in their life, whereas the latter is positive, since the departed have completed their life cycle at a late age. The theme of old age is constantly interwoven with family issues, the more so since it transforms a laudatory motif for the deceased into a consolation device for those left behind. Age is slightly more often employed in epitaphs belonging to men than in funerary epigrams for women (59.25% and 40.75% respectively). In the case of women, emphasis is on youth (81.82%) and not old age (18.18%), whereas in respect of men differences are not extremely significant. Youth as a negative connotation in front of the event of death is 1.74% more frequently employed (62.96%) than old age (37.04%), which is presented under a rather positive light. In the case of women, this is even more highlighted. The average age of death in the classical period being 36.2 for women and 45 for men partly explains why women were basically commemorated as dying young. The composers of epitaphs use the negative connotations of the theme of untimely death as a foil for arousing the sympathy and compassion of the reader. Two recurrent forms regularly employed for characterizing youth are the common metaphor of ‘flower of life’ and the topic of ‘death before marriage’. Conversely, old age is presented in a positive light so as to offer consolation for the loss of a dear one. Having lived for a considerable number of years was thought to be some sort of recompense in front of the event of death. The very idea of a long and well-lived life lies, therefore, at the heart of this topic, which on the other hand is considerably less used than the ‘negative’ theme of premature death. This being the case, one can see that fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs exploit age by focusing on the expression of grief rather than by alleviating the harshness of death. Old age seems to be a more apt topic for deceased males (8 attestations) than females (2), since female-idealization is consonant with the emphasis laid on the theme of premature death instead of that of old age. Women were to be thought of as being in their most fruitful age, whence the grief and sadness caused by their death. This is also true in the case of men, who are more often lamented as dying young than old. In this light, the higher frequence of the ‘male-oriented’ topic of old age may be connected with its encomiastic tone for a life well spent. Profession, like old age, is employed as a separate theme only in Attic grave epigrams and not in other places. The deceased’s job des-

316

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ignation is used for both men and women, the former representing 75% of the total number of epitaphs containing some reference to the deceased’s profession, whereas the latter stand for only 25%. As far as particular professions are concerned, non-manual professionals occupy the first place (7), followed by handworkers and builders (4), nurses and doctors (3), whereas there is a single reference to a priestess. As fas as dead men are concerned, the professions mentioned in the epitaphs basically fall into two categories: those pertaining to manual and those relevant to non-manual work. Handworkers include a shepherd (475), a potter (567), a miner (572), and a wool-plucker or shearer (626), while non-manual professionals a coadjutor or assessor of an archon (484), a doctor (500), a flute-player (509), a seer (519), an actor (550), a chorister (578), and a singer (615). Male professions function as an encomiastic device for the deceased, which either takes the form of a praising comparison of the dead man with others of the same profession or of a specification and concretization of rather general and vague evaluative terms such as χρηστός, ἀγαθός, κράτιστος etc. The professional occupations of women are expressed four times in fourth-century Attic epitaphs, once in respect of a priestess, two in respect of nurses, and once in reference to a midwife who is called a physician. The designation of women’s professional activity in fourthcentury Attic epitaphs both converges with and diverges from what we have already observed in the case of men regarding the following two aspects: (a) profession, as is the case with deceased males, is used as a specification and concretization mechanism ‘coloring’ abstract evaluative terms (σώφρων, γέραιρα, χρηστή etc.); (b) unlike the epigrams commemorating men, there is no comparison of the deceased female with other women doing the same job. Even when a superlative form of an epithet is employed (δικαιοτάτην), there is no comparison, explicit or implicit, highlighting the motif of professional excellence. Intimate remembrance and permanent commemoration have been called the “private and public faces of death.” 2 Professional occupation that is grounded in the social reality of one’s daily life is situated on the horns of the private and public spheres of activity. On the one hand, work, being essential for one’s survival, is considered of the greatest importance for sustaining a family, and on the other it is regarded as a necessary contribution to society at large, the more so _____________ 2

Humphreys (19932) 122.

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317

since professional activity is indispensable for the progress and welfare of the state. In addition, since profession exercises an enormous influence on peopleʼs lives and stands in a condition of uninterrupted mutual interaction with their personality and identity, it is no wonder that it oscillates between the private and public aspects of human life. In the fourth chapter, I charted the narrative technique and diction dominating the agenda of fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs. The 4th century is a transitional period during which epigrams begin to show features of subliterariness, which we traditionally connect with the existence of a professional epigrammatist. Such a process of narrative sophistication had hardly begun in the archaic period when epigrams were characterized for their severe style and epic coloring on the one hand, and their impersonal and rather distanced tone on the other. Archaic sepulchral epigrams in particular contained information regarding the name and city of the deceased, his family and sometimes his age. In the classical period, inscribed epigrams increase significantly in number because of the πολυάνδρια (inscribed epitaphs in collective tombs), which must be interpreted within the context of the growth of Athenian democracy after the triumph of the Persian Wars. The epigrams of the classical period are reworked with greater care than their archaic ‘ancestors’, brevity is still the norm, but not without exceptions (becoming all the more singificant in the 4th century), special concern can be detected about word-placement, and last but not least a didactic and highly idealistic tone can be discerned, especially as far as funerary epigrams are concerned. The tendency to highlight, at times, passion, the use of the dialogic form, and the emergence of new ‘coins’ speak for the influence exercised by tragic poetry, sophistic and rhetoric. Gradually, the πολυάνδρια decrease and are outnumbered by private inscribed epitaphs. The dramatic changes caused by the Peloponnesian war, civic and political unrest and the turning point at which the Greek citystates found themselves are some of the reasons behind this phenomenon. In the transitional period demarcated by the 4th century, the wider ‘privatization’ process concerning Athenian society at large is the driving force behind the progressive subliterariness of the epigrammatic tradition. Family-oriented, personalized and, at least at times, composed by the deceased’s relatives and/or friends, private epitaphs begin to display features of literary embellishment, extending from the artful combination of traditional material, such as the consolatory gnome and the socially standardized new form of arete and sophrosyne, to bold new forms of imagery, narrative expansion, and traces of dia-

318

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logic form. Attic fourth-century grave epigrams reveal unmistakable signs of an incipient variation, in an attempt to endorse multiple points of view or voices and, consequently, invite as many reactions as possible by future readers. Variation is mainly achieved by inserting emotional comments beyond necessary information and by adopting the dialogue form, which implicitly indicates that the passer-by is transformed into a reader that is invited to engage himself in the interpretation of the inscribed epigram. One typical feature of fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs is their effort to expand into longer and more elaborate compositions than their archaic and early classical counterparts. To this end, narrative expansion is effectuated by a variety of means: (a) parataxis followed by relative pronouns, (b) relative pronouns + μέν-δέ expansion, (c) relative pronoun + δέ expansion, (d) chains of relative pronouns, (e) the ὅς ... ποτε relative device, (f) temporal clauses, (g) consecutive clauses, (h) asyndeton. Subliterariness can be seen in the use of poetic techniques and diction appropriated to the needs and framework of the inscribed epitaph (limited space, effort to ‘gain a reader’, emphatic statements and generalizations). The results of my analysis are the following: (a) Epic vocabulary decreases and is substituted by increasingly employed tragic diction. The influence of Euripides is much greater than that of Sophocles and Aeschylus. The growing influence of tragedy is partly caused by the re-performance of the plays of the three great tragedians. In fact, after 386 BCE new plays were accompanied by the reperformance of an old tragedy, among which Euripidean drama seemed to have enjoyed a privileged role.3 (b) Attic forms predominate. The scanty non-Attic grammatical types are explained either by the non-Attic origin of the person commemorated or by literary influence from a non-Attic literary source. (c) Names are at times embedded in the metrical part of the inscription and exploited for wordplay. Soundplay is also used as a device creating literary effects. (d) Compound epithets used in fourth-century Attic sepulchral epigrams display an increase of almost 100% in comparison to their frequence in the extant corpus of fourth-century epigrams. Given that there is no analogous increase if the same comparison is made for the epigrams of the archaic and early classical period (5th century), this may well be a covert indication of the attempt to endow these brief compositions with a certain poetic color. _____________ 3

See TrGF 1 (DID A 1 201).

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319

(e) The coexistence of multiple dictional or stylistic registers like the priamel or the ἀντί-construction and the verb ἀντιδίδωμι (which recur in dedications and decrees) displays a literary interest extending outside the limits of the epitaph itself. (f) As far as meter is concerned, the anonymous composers of epitaphs lay special emphasis on the creation of a familiar tone. The preference for the penthemimeral caesura and the predilection for augmented verbs and familiar grammatical forms implicitly point to the intimacy the epitaphs aimed to express. This intimacy is consonant with the general tendency of fourth-century Attic inscribed epitaphs to explore the middle ground between the severe style of their archaic predecessors and the deeply personalised exquisiteness we traditionally associate with the learned epigrams of the Hellenistic period. This being the case, it can be plausibly argued that the anonymous composers of our corpus of fourth-century Attic epitaphs aimed at turning the elegiac couplet into a coherent unity, where hexameter and pentameter would express a complete thought, where sense completion at the end of the second verse would be facilitated by specific metrical factors ‘inviting’ the reader to ‘see’ the distich as a whole and ‘cross over’ from the first into the second verse. Fourth-century Attic grave epigrams reflect a transitional phase in the evolution of the genre of epigram. They testify to a shift of interest towards social issues such as the family, the deceased’s age and profession. In a turbulent period of restlessness and uncertainty that followed the devastating Peloponnesian war which led to the collapse and – despite small intervals – decline of Athens, the strongest and wealthiest city-state of the classical period, the commemoration of the departed in private monuments became an ‘engine of family honor’,4 an effective mechanism of displaying publicly a new set of social concerns. It is within this context or, rather, these contexts that special emphasis has been put on the composition of sepulchral epigrams. Poetic coloring, use of gnomic statements, elaborate imagery, narrative expansion, and variation of typology are only some of the multiple devices that bear witness to a gradual autonomization and sophistication of the epigrammatic genre. This book was an attempt to explore this transitional phase in the evolution of epigram by trying to reconstruct as many ancient contexts as possible on the one hand, and study sepulchral epigrams as poetic art on the other. _____________ 4

Wilson (2007) 5. The idea belongs to Chaniotis (1997) 219-259.

Table 1: Classification of speech-acts in the entire corpus of Attic grave epigrams (numeration follows CEG I and II;1 numbers 1-105 refer to the period from the 8th to the end of the 5th century BCE, and numbers 466-626 to the 4th century BCE) Spea ker Addre ss e interpla y Presentation of the deceased or the monument

8 th -5 th cent urie s

4 th ce ntur y

14, 15, 16, 18, 23, 24, 25, 26, 29, 32, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 45, 46, 49, 50, 52, 53, 54, 55, 57, 60, 61, 62, 63, 65, 66, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 76, 78, 84, 85, 86, 87, 90, 91, 92, 94, 96, 103

474, 475, 477, 478, 480, 481, 483, 492, 494, 497, 498, 500, 501, 503, 506, 510, 514, 516, 521, 523, 527, 529, 533, 534, 536, 537, 539, 540, 542, 552, 556, 558, 560, 563, 566, 569, 570, 576, 579, 580, 589, 599, 601, 607, 608, 612, 613, 617, 618, 626, ΣΕΜΑ 821 Report of the death- 67, 77, 79, 83, 104 485, 486, 493, 509, 525, 531, situation (inter538, 547, 554, 557, 567, 571, ment, 572, 574, 581, 585, 591, 604, funeral) 605, 621 I-style 43, 58 470, 473 Address forms 13, 19, 27, 28, 34, 51, 68, 69, 484, 491, 496, 502, 507, 511, 80, 82, 95, 97, 102 515, 519, 520, 522, 544, 550, 555, 561, 564, 565, 584, 593, 597, 603, 620, 623, 624 Dialogue 512, 530, 545 Generalizing com89, 98, 105 479, 482, 487, 489, 490, 495, ments 499, 505, 517, 518, 524, 528, 532, 535, 546, 549, 551, 559, 568, 573, 575, 577, 582, 586, 587, 590, 592, 594, 595, 596, 600, 602, 611 Various forms 31, 47, 48, 59, 64, 75, 99 476, 622

_____________ 1

With the exception of ΣΕΜΑ 821, which was published too late (SEG 43 (1993) no. 88) to be included in CEG II.

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General Index Anthippe, 179-180 Antipatros from Askalon, 56-57 Antiphon, 148 Archestrate, 176-177, 191-192 Aristokrateia, 158-160, 275 Autokleides, 255 Beltiste, 164-169 centrifugal ablative, 24, 35-36 centripetal allative, 24 Chairestrate, 67-68, 210, 226-227 Chairion, 205 Chairippe, 154, 178-179 conditional probabilities, 32, 35 copybook, 53-55, 58, 61 Daiikrates, 227 deictic topography, 217-219 deixis, 21-26, 232, 255, 309; ad oculos, 22; am Phantasma, 22 Demaretos, 82 Demeter, 39, 95-96, 102-108, 114, 313 Demetrios, 146-147, 162 Diognetos, 21, 27, 273 n. 148 Dionysia, 284 Dionysios, 41, 44, 121-129, 163 Epigrammata Attika, see also Philochorus epitaph and asyndeton, 241-243; and compound epithets, 276-278; and enjambment, 302-307; and language of decrees and dedicatory inscriptions, 278-280; and names, 243-252; and parataxis, 237-241; and subordinate clauses, 233-236; and unmetrical verses, 297-299; as

narrative, 224-261; epic vocabulary of, 262-268; extended with relatives, 225-233; meter of, 285-307; priamel, 284-285; staging of, 6, 17, 24-25, 30, 36-37, 39, 45, 48, 258-259, 309; tragic vocabulary of, 268-273; wordplay and soundplay, 281-284 Ergänzungsspiel, see also supplementation Erxis, 146-147 Eukoline, 245-246 Euphranor, 196, 283-284 evaluation, 26, 36-38, 206 Gerys, 70, 72-74 Glaukiades, 30, 86, 91-92, 95, 225-226 Glykera, 22, 27, 180-182, 246 Gnomai Monostichoi, 10 gnomic expressions/statements, 9-10; absolute, 19-20, 309; anaphoric and deictic markers of, 21-26; antithetical construction, 49; comparative, 19-20, 309; conditional clauses, 32-37; consolatory, 19-20, 31, 35, 38-39, 41, 58-60, 83, 132, 156, 205 n. 237, 310, 317; contextualization of, 37-44; corpus of, 17-19; evaluative terminology of, 26-27, 310; expanded, 48; gnomic aorist, 28-30, 310; in drama, 13; in Herodotus and Thucydides, 12; in Hesiod, 11; in Homer, 10-11; in Pindar and Bacchylides, 11-12; in rhetorical theory, 13-17; linguistic features of, 17; meter of, 51-52; ‘minicollections’ of, 43; mnemonic devices, 50; nested, 41-44; particles of, 31-32; quantificatory terminology of, 19-21; reception of, 39; style

344

General Index

of, 32-37; tenor of, 22, 25-26, 31, 36, 46-48, 310; tenses of, 28-30 Hegilla, 77-80, 221 Herakleia, daughter of Simon, 108110, 113-114; Hieron, 219 Hypothekai, 10-11 imagery of the chambers of Persephone, 86-134; of the light of life, 63-86; Kallimachos, 95, 153 Kallimedon, 177-178 Kallisto, 282 Kalliteles, 177-178, 254 Kerkope, 114-120 Kleagora, 68-69, 256 Kleo, 74, 76, 150 Kle(i)obolos, 209, 231, 263 Kleoptoleme, 240 Komarchos, 220 Kratista, 85 n. 72, 232-233

Philistides, 235 Philochorus, 53-54, 79 n. 47, 244, 249, 266, 274 Philostrate, 93 Philostratos, 247, 282-283 Phrasikleia, 139, 280 Pistos, 182, 246-262 Polyxene, 253 Potamon, 171-175, 209 praise of the deceased, 21-22, 26-27, 30-32, 36, 40-42, 46-47, 65-67, 73, 76, 80, 83, 86-87, 89-91, 110, 121, 126, 129, 133, 140-141, 143 n. 36, 144, 146-148, 154-155, 158, 160-182, 192 n. 190, 194, 207, 208-210, 221, 225, 228, 230-232, 235 n. 36, 236, 240, 242-243, 246, 259, 264, 283, 310, 312, 314 Praxiteles, 151 progressive individualization, 43-44 psychagogos/psychopompos/psychotamias, 126 Pythokles, 199 n. 209, 248-249 Rezeptionsaesthetik, 39

Malicha, 211 maxims, see also gnomic expressions/statements Melite, deme of, 68-69, 104, 211, 256257 Melite, wife of Onesimos, 260, 300 Melitta, 36, 100-102, 105, 212 Metrobios, 243 Mnesarete, 98-100 narrative, see also epitaph Nikobolos, 65-67, 96-98, 251, 265 Nikoptoleme, 130-133, 138-139 Oinobios, 79 Pamphile, 233-234, 272 Pantaleon, 222-223 Pausimache, 156-157 Peisikrateia, 144-145 performance, see also staging of epitaphs Phanagora, 93-96, 98 Philagros, father of Hegilla, 77-79, 221

Sosinos, 153 speaker and addressee, 252-261; address forms, 256-257; dialogue, 258-261; first-person mourner, 255-256; grave-situated conversation, 259-261; presentation of the deceased or the monument, 253254; question-answer device, 258; report of the death-situation, 254; the ‘I-style’, 254-256; static locative, 24 supplementation, 43, 247 Sylloge Simonidea, 20 n. 51, 53, 71 n. 20, 275 n. 154 Symmachos, 239-241 Telemachos son of Spoudokrates, 175, 191-195, 259 tenor, 22, 25-26, 31, 36, 46-48, 285, 310311 Theogeiton, 285, 281 Theognidea (corpus Theognideum), 1011

General Index Theoites, 30 Thesmophoria, 102-110, 313 ‘thick and thin’ theory, 183-213; and age, 198-208; and family, 183-198; and profession, 208-213 vehicle, 21, 26, 36, 71, 151, 155, 205, 207, 221, 279, 285 Xenokleia, 229 wisdom literature, 9-10, 38, 44 n. 102, 49-50, 309

345

Index of Principal Greek Words ἀντάξιος/ἀνταποδίδωμι/ἀντιδίδωμι, 278-279, 319 ἀντί, 139, 190, 201-204, 240, 270, 272273, 278-280, 284, 319 ἀπραγμοσύνη, 137, 140 ἀρετή and ἀσκεῖν, 142-149; αὐξάνειν, 149-150; μέρος ἔχω/μετέχω, 137142; μνημεῖον, 150-158; αὐγή/αὐγαί, 77-86 γάμος, 139, 190, 201-203, 240, 279-280 γῆρας, 17, 30, 49, 70, 74, 86-88, 93-94, 114, 117-119, 205-206, 219, 225, 266, 274 γνώμη, 9-17, 19-23, 26-29, 32-33, 3538, 40-42, 45-48, 51, 53, 58 γόος, 170 n. 101, 203, 234, 240

κόσμιος/κοσμιότης, 136-137 κόσμος, 142 n. 34, 143, 145-148, 159 μέλλησις, 137 μετριότης, 137 μνῆμα/μνημεῖον, 79, 111-112, 125127, 137, 146, 150-158, 178, 209 n. 255, 239, 251 ὅσιος/ὁσίως, 141 n. 27, 164, 166, 168, 174 ὅς … ποτε, 230-233 πένθος, 18, 20, 47 n. 113, 50, 68, 98-99, 111-113, 121, 127, 154-156, 159 n. 74, 205, 221, 236, 242, 248, 253, 256, 269, 271 πολυπραγμοσύνη, 137, 146 n. 42

δραστήριον, 137 ἔπαινος, 17-18, 22-25, 30, 34 n. 84, 4950, 86-88, 90, 112, 121-123, 150 n. 57, 154, 161, 163-164, 167-180, 193, 225, 259, 269 εὐβουλία, 137 εὔκλεια, 111-112, 144, 207, 235, 295 εὐλογία, 18, 49-50, 111, 121-123, 146, 161-170, 175 n. 116, 299 ἥβη, 94, 108-111, 113, 200-201, 204, 274, 280, 284 ἡσυχία, 137, 140 θρῆνος, 34, 60, 202-203, 228, 240, 280 ἰσοτελής, 70, 73, 100-101, 301 κερκώπη, see also τέττιξ κομμός, 234

σῆμα, 133, 151, 218-219, 267 σοφία/σοφός, 118, 148-149, 171-174, 240, 254 σπάνις, 18, 22, 25, 180-182, 246, 298 σωφροσύνη and ἀσκεῖν, 142-149; αὐξάνειν, 149-150; κλέος, 158-160; μέρος ἔχω/μετέχω, 137-142; μνημεῖον, 150-158; see also ἀρετή τάφος, 56, 70 n. 18, 125, 148, 171, 175, 190, 193-194, 201-203, 239-240, 259260, 279-280, 284, 300 τέττιξ, 115-120 τίτθη, 18, 36, 100, 102-103, 105, 210, 212, 301-302, 313 φάος/φῶς, 64-76, 79-80, 85, 95-97, 111-112, 150, 176, 195 n. 196, 226, 251, 256, 264-266, 271, 273, 312

348

Index of Principal Greek Words

φιλέω/φιλία/φίλος, 17, 19-20, 25, 30, 40, 49-51, 56, 65, 75, 81-82, 85 n. 72, 86-87, 89, 92, 96, 98, 100, 105-107, 117-118, 121, 125, 127, 138-139, 143, 146, 148, 153, 169, 175-176, 193-194, 205, 225, 232, 236, 239, 248-249, 254, 256 n. 103, 259-260, 269, 271, 275-276, 282, 300-301 χαῖρε/χαίρετε, 18, 20, 25, 30, 35 n. 84, 45 n. 111, 75, 81-84, 153, 260, 297298, 300 χάρις, 19, 25, 46, 50-51, 75, 97 n. 112, 116, 130, 132-133, 138 n. 17, 146, 267 ὦ, 249-251

Index Locorum

Adespota (fragmenta tragica, Kannicht and Snell) 644.31-32: 76 Aelian On animals (NA) 1.20: 116 n. 162 10.44: 115 n. 161 Aeschines On the Embassy (2) 78: 263 n. 120 152: 140 n. 22 176: 136 n. 5 Aeschylus Persians (Pers.) 168: 70 n. 18 546-547: 27 n. 61 624: 91 n. 95, 95 n. 107 628-630: 126 n. 208 630: 69 n. 15 674: 269 Seven (Sept.) 471: 92 n. 99 Suppliants (Suppl.) 139-140: 268, 271 635: 89 n. 86 Agamemnon (Ag.) 80-81: 266 n. 132 1123: 69 1526: 269 Libation-Bearers (Cho.) 1-2: 126 n. 208

934: 70 n. 18 Eumenides (Eum.) 355-356: 269 564-565: 207 n. 241 649-650: 124 n. 192 670: 81 n. 53 Prometheus Bound [Sp.] (PV) 153: 267 n. 136 1066: 142 n. 31 Fragments (TrGF 3, Radt) 100 (Cares aut Europa): 269 192 (Prometheus Solutus): 268 362 (fab. inc.): 69 n. 16, 94, 270 Alcman (PMG) fr. 73: 159 n. 75 Alexis (K.-A.) fr. (Thrason) 96: 115-116 Anacreon (PMG) fr. 380: 75 Anacreontea (West) 34: 118, 120 n. 177 Anaximenes of Lampsacus (Fuhrmann) Ars Rhetorica 11.1 (p. 38, 4-5): 15 [Andocides] Against Alcibiades (4) 14: 188 n. 161

350

Index Locorum

Anonymous ad Herennium 4.17.24: 15

Archytas Amphissensis (Powell, CA) fr. 1: 274

Anthologia Palatina (AP) 5.135: 274 n. 150 7.61: 125 n. 200 7.373: 76 7.489: 95 n. 107 7.507b: 95 n. 107 9.118: 274 16.2 (App. Plan.): 274 16.31 (App. Plan.): 125 n. 200

Aristophanes Knights (Eq.) 1331: 120 n. 177 Clouds (Nub.) 984: 120 n. 177 Birds (Av.) 699: 69 n. 15 1058-1059: 271 Frogs (Ran.) 501: 104 n. 132 Wealth (Plut.) 1132: 127 n. 208 Fragments (K.-A.) 53 (Anagyros): 116

Antigonus Paradox. Historiarum mirabilium collectio (Mir.) 20: 118 n. 169 Antipater of Sidon AP 7.425=HE 380: 57 n. 147 Antyllus Med. Fragmenta ap. Oribasium 10.35.4: 118 n. 169 Apollodorus Gramm. (FGrHist) 244 F 89: 104 n. 133 Apollodorus Myth. Bibliotheca 1.9.4: 120 n. 179 3.14.3: 120 n. 178, 120 n. 179 Apollonius Rhodius 1.1094: 274 1.1285: 275 n. 156 Archilochus (West) fr. 19: 284 fr. 58: 88 fr. 89: 88 fr. 139: 88 fr. 188: 88

Aristotle Constitution of Athens (Ath. Pol.) 26.4: 141 n. 25 42.2: 149 n. 53 Eudemean Ethics (Eth. Eud.) 1263b2: 300 Nicomachean Ethics (Eth. Nic.) 1155b28: 300 1157b30: 300 1159a30: 300 Historia animalium (HA) 549b26: 118 n. 169 600b20: 118 n. 169 601a1-10: 119 n. 173 On Interpretation (Inter.) 7.17a38-17b16: 14 Poetics (Poet.) 1461b: 171 Problemata (Prob.) 956b: 171 n. 104 Politics (Pol.) 1252b10: 187 n. 158 Rhetoric (Rhet.) 1394a-1395b20: 13

Index Locorum 1394a21-25: 13 1394a27-28: 37 n. 87 1395a2-6: 16 n. 46 1395b1-6: 311 n. 1 1395b12-13: 11 n. 15 Athenaeus Deipnosophistae 4.133b: 116 4.158e: 13 n. 33 11.51.2-4: 128 n. 213 13.561a: 13 n. 33 Augustine De civitate Dei (de civ. Dei) 2: 68 n. 13 2.4: 274 Bacchylides 9.40-41: 159 n. 75 13.64-66: 159 17.78-80: 159 n. 75 Callimachus Aetia (Pfeiffer) fr. 1.29-35: 117 n. 167, 119 Carmina epica et elegiaca minora fr. 384.57-58 (Σωσιβίου νίκη): 122 n. 184 Hymns (Pfeiffer) 2.110: 104 n. 113 Epigrams 6 Pfeiffer=55 Gow and Page: 266 Callinus (West) 1.16: 271 Carmina Popularia (PMG) 880: 79 n. 48 CEG (Hansen) 1: 82, 91

351

2: 276, 277 4: 83 n. 60, 231 n. 27, 252, 276 5: 252, 266, 276 6: 255 n. 36 8: 266 9: 276 10: 219, 276, 290 11: 276 12: 231 n. 27, 276 13: 321 14: 321 15: 321 16: 321 18: 321 19: 321 23: 321 24: 280, 321 25: 321 26: 321 27: 90 n. 94, 167 n. 97, 231 n. 27, 321 28: 321 29: 321 31: 276, 321 32: 321 34: 321 35: 321 36: 321 37: 321 38: 321 39: 321 40: 321 41: 280, 321 42: 321 43: 231 n. 27, 256 n. 101, 321 45: 321 46: 321 49: 321 50: 271 51: 256 n. 103, 321 52: 321 53: 321 54: 321

352 55: 321 57: 321 58: 277, 321 60: 321 61: 231 n. 27, 321 62: 321 63: 321 65: 321 66: 321 67: 135 n. 3, 242 n. 64, 321 68: 321 69: 135 n. 3, 276, 321 70: 321 71: 321 72: 321 73: 321 74: 169 n. 99, 321 75: 111, 321 76: 321 77: 215, 276, 321 78: 321 79: 296, 321 80: 111, 321 81: 135 n. 3 82: 276, 321 83: 87, 135 n. 3, 276, 321 84: 111, 271, 290, 321 85: 321 86: 321 87: 276, 321 89: 245 90: 321 91: 321 92: 135 n. 3, 321 93: 238 n. 48, 277 94: 276, 321 95: 33 n. 82, 111, 321 96: 135 n. 3, 152, 321 97: 266 n. 84, 321 98: 321 99: 135 n. 3, 169 n. 99, 276, 321 100: 276

Index Locorum 102: 135 n. 3, 276, 321 103: 276, 321 104: 111, 321 105: 321 108: 276 112: 231 n. 27 113: 271, 290 119: 277 123: 277 128: 271 131: 276 136: 276 138: 266 n. 131 139: 151, 276, 280 140: 277 145: 89, 277 153: 280 160: 267 167: 276, 280 169: 299 n. 217 171: 111 172: 272 174: 111, 276 175: 271 176: 277 177: 277 178: 111, 276 181: 276 182: 276 184: 276 185: 277 194: 276 197: 276 198: 277 201: 277 203: 276, 277 206: 276 225: 277 235: 277 240: 277 243: 276 261: 277

Index Locorum 263: 277 266: 277 269: 277 276: 277 277: 277 280: 277 280a: 277 282: 276-277 285: 276 287: 276 288: 276 295: 276 296: 276 297: 276 301: 87, 277 302: 109 n. 152 308: 277 312: 276 321: 277 325: 276 326: 276 327: 276 331: 277 334: 276 335: 277 337: 276 338: 276 348: 277 353: 276 354: 276 363: 277 368: 276 370: 276 375: 276 377: 276 378: 277 380: 276-277 383: 276 390: 272 n. 145, 276 391: 276 392: 276 397: 150 n. 57, 276

353

399: 277 403: 276 405: 276 408: 276 409: 276 410: 277 414: 150 n. 57, 276 415: 277 422: 277 423: 277 424: 277 425: 276 428: 276 434: 276 435: 276 443: 277 454: 276 464: 276 467: 223, 249, 268, 271, 278, 292 469: 237, 268, 275, 292 470: 218 n. 19, 255, 256 n. 103, 293 321 472: 245 n. 68 473: 254, 277, 321 474: 135 n. 1, 154, 209, 321 474=99b: 112 475: 208, 209, 278, 316, 321 477: 112, 199, 205, 242, 245 n. 68, 269, 271, 277, 292-293, 321 478: 292, 321 479: 125, 135 n. 2, 239, 321 480: 113, 135 n. 2, 138, 199, 237, 238 n. 44, 293, 321 481: 193, 218 n. 9, 292, 321 482: 78 n. 46, 169 n. 100, 292, 321 483: 125 n. 199, 135 n. 1, 268, 270, 292, 321 484: 208-209, 316, 321 485: 112, 199 n. 209, 217 n. 8, 248, 268, 269, 271, 292, 295, 296 486: 111 n. 156, 113, 135 n. 2, 158, 186, 245 n. 68, 275, 321

354

Index Locorum

487: 17, 19, 29, 33, 38, 49, 50, 58, 61, 82 n. 59, 186, 252, 297, 298, 321 488: 277, 321 489: 17, 22, 30, 33, 47, 49, 86, 88, 90, 91, 93 n. 102, 94, 97 n. 111, 161, 169, 170, 225, 228, 269, 272, 278, 292, 321 490: 87, 112, 135 n. 1, 245 n. 68, 267, 321 491: 135 n. 1, 212, 251, 298, 321 492: 82 n. 59, 112, 153, 193, 250 n. 82, 251, 277, 298, 321 493: 18, 23, 25, 26, 33, 112, 154, 156, 161, 169, 170, 178, 186, 321 493-495: 135 n. 1 494: 218 n. 9, 268, 295, 296, 298, 321 494-495: 135 n. 2 495: 111, 155, 156, 199 n. 209, 245 n. 68, 292, 321 496: 112, 278, 321 497: 135 n. 1, 161, 163, 231 n. 28, 245 n. 68, 321 498: 112, 183 n. 146, 269, 271, 321 499: 199, 245 n. 68, 321 500: 208, 209, 316, 321 501: 268, 292, 321 503: 277, 321 504: 218 n. 9 505: 112, 292, 321 508: 186 509:150 n. 57, 161, 169, 170, 171, 172, 173 n. 109, 174 510: 208, 209, 293, 316, 321 510-511: 135 n. 1 511: 64, 65, 85, 96, 112, 251, 264, 265, 268, 292, 321 512: 85 n. 73, 135 n. 1, 161, 169, 170, 175, 176, 193, 245 n. 68, 259, 268, 273, 275, 277, 295, 296, 321 513: 94, 97 n. 112, 98, 99, 100 n. 117, 112, 135 n. 1, 186, 269, 270 n. 141, 271, 292 514: 295, 296, 321

515: 75, 111 n. 156, 112, 249, 268, 321 516: 135 n. 1, 242, 277, 292, 321 517: 245, 248, 277, 321 518: 18, 20, 33, 38, 45, 47 n. 113, 49, 50, 112, 135 n. 1, 155, 156, 269, 271, 293, 297 519: 231, 262, 278, 316, 321 520: 18, 20, 25, 31, 33, 45, 64, 81, 83, 84, 85 n. 73, 249, 251, 252, 275, 276 n. 159, 292, 293, 321 521: 193, 195, 321 522: 45 n. 111, 112, 186, 292, 321 524: 135 n. 1, 193, 195, 277, 291, 292, 293, 321 525: 18, 22, 25, 27, 33, 180, 181, 182, 246, 292, 298, 321 526: 111 n. 156, 113, 186, 228, 267, 269, 272, 273, 278, 292, 293 527: 18, 94, 100 n. 117, 135 n. 1, 199, 268, 270 n. 141, 278, 321 527-528: 78 n. 46 528: 199, 238, 292, 321 529: 111 n. 156, 112, 186, 253, 269, 271, 298, 321 530: 186, 260, 298, 300, 321 531: 112, 131 n. 2, 143, 199, 205, 245 n. 68, 295, 296, 321 532: 116 n. 163, 180 n. 135, 182, 245, 246, 292, 321 533: 161, 164, 169, 170, 175 n. 116, 186, 245 n. 68, 280, 290, 321 534: 208, 210, 211, 245 n. 68, 275, 292, 293, 321 535: 125 n. 199, 278, 292, 321 536: 186, 321 537: 212, 245 n. 68, 292, 298, 321 538: 78 n. 46, 186, 199, 231 n. 28, 233, 270, 272, 321 539: 81 n. 51, 186, 191, 192 n. 186, 268, 278, 298, 299, 302 n. 230, 321 540: 138, 292, 298, 321

Index Locorum 541: 75, 139, 140, 186, 195 n. 196 542: 112, 135 n. 1, 144, 186, 321 543: 64, 80 n. 49, 111, 112, 113, 145, 161, 169, 170, 176, 186, 195, 251, 266 n. 130, 269, 271, 277, 292, 299 544: 220, 245 n. 68, 293, 321 545: 97 n. 111, 258, 277, 281, 289 n. 196, 291, 292, 293, 321 546: 161, 169, 170, 179, 292, 321 547: 292, 321 548: 111 n. 156, 113, 135 n. 2, 145, 146 n. 41, 161, 162, 163 n. 83, 292 549: 112, 125, 239, 321 550: 208, 209, 210, 240, 274, 277, 291, 316, 321 551: 112, 125, 282, 292, 321 551-552: 135 n. 1 552: 298, 321 553: 111, 147 n. 46, 199, 268, 295, 296 554: 75, 135 n. 1, 138, 141 n. 24, 142, 199, 205, 254, 321 555: 125 n. 199, 186, 292, 321 556: 199, 274, 321 557: 199, 206, 245 n. 68, 277, 293, 321 558: 125 n. 199, 245 n. 68, 277, 292, 293, 321 559: 18, 23, 24, 25, 26, 33, 36, 50, 249 n. 77, 292, 293, 302 n. 231, 321 560: 135 n. 2, 148, 245 n. 68, 321 561: 135 n. 1, 161, 169, 170, 177, 278, 321 563: 68 n. 12, 97 n. 112, 186, 195 n. 196, 206, 242, 269, 272, 277, 292, 293, 321 564: 245 n. 68, 246, 247 n. 73, 268, 282, 295, 296, 321 565: 231 n. 28, 295, 296, 321 566: 64, 67, 80 n. 49, 112, 186, 195 n. 196, 199, 208, 210, 225, 226, 228, 232, 265, 274, 277, 278, 292, 293, 321

355

567: 208, 209, 249 n. 77, 277, 316, 321 568: 78 n. 46, 135 n. 1, 249 n. 77, 274, 275, 291, 321 569: 208, 211, 249 n. 77, 268, 292, 298, 321 570: 112, 193, 195, 231 n. 28, 234, 235, 236, 245 n. 68, 277, 278, 292, 321 571: 18, 21, 26, 27, 33, 36, 39, 97 n. 112, 100, 101 n. 119, 102 n. 122, 206, 211, 212, 238, 245 n. 68, 292, 293, 301, 321 572: 169 n. 100, 208, 209, 263, 264, 278, 316, 321 573: 78 n. 46, 135 n. 2, 186, 199, 280, 284, 285, 321 574: 111, 193, 195, 269, 271, 321 575: 18, 25, 33, 97 n. 112, 108, 109 n. 150, 111 n. 156, 113, 199, 201, 269, 272, 277, 278, 292, 293, 302 n. 231, 321 576: 85 n. 72, 111 n. 156, 113, 186, 193, 231, 232, 276, 292, 321 577: 18, 33, 49, 78, 111, 113, 135 n. 2, 199, 247, 277, 297, 321 578: 149 n. 55, 208, 209, 210, 264, 277, 278, 295, 296, 316 579: 199, 206, 242, 263, 277, 321 581: 18 n. 48, 161, 179 n. 128, 321 582: 245 n. 68, 321 584: 78 n. 46, 135 n. 2, 190 n. 180, 199, 202, 280, 321 585: 75, 112, 135 n. 1, 148, 149, 193, 199, 233, 234, 236, 245 n. 68, 292, 321 586: 18, 21, 33, 47, 49, 94, 138 n. 13, 141 n. 23, 193, 225, 227, 233, 270, 277, 321 587: 111, 190 n. 180, 199, 202, 203, 292, 321 589: 135 n. 1, 245 n. 68, 269, 271, 321

356

Index Locorum

590: 64, 77, 78 n. 46, 79, 85, 112, 135 n. 2, 186, 199, 221, 245 n. 68, 292, 293, 321 591: 78, 87, 113, 130, 170, 190 n. 180, 203, 230 n. 22, 240, 241, 249, 250, 269, 271, 272, 277, 278, 280, 292, 321 592: 97 n. 112, 114, 115, 169 n. 100, 186, 199, 205, 206, 247, 248 n. 75, 277, 292, 295, 296, 297, 321 593: 18, 33, 41, 42, 44, 49, 50, 97 n. 111, 113, 121, 124 n. 187, 126, 127 n. 210, 129, 135 n. 2, 159 n. 74, 161, 163, 170, 269, 271, 272, 277, 295, 296, 321 594: 18, 21, 26, 27, 33, 50, 135 n. 1, 141 n. 24, 245 n. 68, 270, 272, 274, 277, 280, 302 n. 231, 321 595: 18, 23, 24, 25, 31, 33, 47, 64, 70, 71 n. 19, 72 n. 26, 73, 80 n. 49, 101 n. 120, 193, 245 n. 68, 266 n. 130, 271, 273, 277, 299, 302 n. 231, 321 596: 56, 112, 217 n. 8, 245 n. 68, 277, 292, 293, 321 597: 87, 112, 199, 206, 219, 250, 257 n. 105, 26, 267, 272 n. 144, 275, 293, 321 598: 199, 218 n. 9, 267 599: 64, 74, 75 n. 34, 78, 135 n. 1, 150, 199, 277, 292, 293, 321 600: 19, 25, 27, 33, 40, 48, 49, 50, 135 n. 1, 292, 293, 302 n. 231, 321 601: 68 n. 12, 193, 195, 204 n. 232, 237, 238, 277, 284 n. 178, 321 603: 19, 25, 26, 31, 33, 39, 46, 50, 97 n. 112, 112, 130, 135 n. 1, 186, 249 n. 77, 251, 292, 302 n. 231, 321 604: 64, 68, 80 n. 49, 112, 135 n. 2, 138, 234, 236 n. 40, 249 n. 77, 256, 266 n. 130, 269, 271, 278, 321 605: 242, 321 606: 94, 199, 206, 239, 240 n. 55, 241, 249 n. 77, 270 n. 141, 275, 277, 292

607: 217 n. 8, 321 608: 135 n. 1, 321 609: 87, 94 611: 125, 130, 135 n. 1, 292, 293, 321 613: 186, 195 n. 196, 245 n. 68, 277, 292, 321 615: 208, 209, 210, 245 n. 68, 266, 316 618: 278, 321 620: 245 n. 68, 321 621: 186, 245 n. 68, 321 622: 286 n. 182, 300 n. 220, 306 n. 241, 321 623: 222, 292, 293, 321 624: 78, 113, 135 n. 1, 157, 199, 321 626: 208, 209, 316, 321 627: 87 n. 79, 112, 277 629: 278 630: 94, 270 n. 141 631: 161 632: 278 634: 277 637: 277 639: 142 n. 33 642: 112 644: 277 646: 111 n. 156, 113 648: 150 n. 57, 277 650: 267, 277, 278 651: 94, 270 n. 141 654: 277 655: 45 n. 111 656: 277, 278 657: 277 658: 87 n. 79, 267, 277 659: 112 660: 111 662: 78 n. 46, 112, 231 n. 28 662a: 112 663: 169 n. 100 664: 271 665: 78 n. 46, 79

Index Locorum 666: 277 669: 277 670: 161 671: 169 n. 100 673: 280 675: 169 n. 100 677: 82 n. 59 680: 277 683: 142 n. 35 684: 75 685: 277 686: 142 n. 34, 184 n. 51, 274 n. 151 687: 113 689: 111, 271, 277 690: 161, 280 691: 78 n. 46, 113, 278 692: 94, 161, 231 n. 28, 270 n. 141 694: 87 n. 79, 267 698: 298 699: 231 n. 28 700: 113 701: 78 702: 113 704: 78, 111, 141 706: 277 708: 112, 150 n. 57, 161 709: 274 n. 151, 277, 278 712: 169 n. 100 714: 113 716: 78 n. 46 722: 112 723: 113 724: 161 726: 150 n. 57, 280 732: 78 n. 46, 190 n. 180, 204 n. 230 739: 278 743: 150 n. 27 744: 278 751: 277 752: 277 757: 196 n. 197 761: 277, 279

357

762: 278 763: 278 770: 277 773: 277, 278 776: 277 777: 278 778: 150 n. 57 779: 277 785: 277, 278 787: 277 790: 109 n. 152 794: 150 n. 57 795: 88, 150 n. 57, 169 n. 100, 277, 278 797: 149 n. 55, 278 798: 277, 278 799: 169 n. 100 803: 278 807: 277 811: 277 812: 169 n. 100, 278 813: 277 814: 277 816: 277 817: 277, 278 819: 277 820: 278 822: 277, 278 824: 88 827: 278 828: 277 836: 277 837: 278 840: 277 842: 277 846: 150 n. 57 849: 278 855: 277 858: 131 n. 222 859: 278 860: 277 865: 277, 278

358 866: 87 n. 79 869: 277 877: 277 878: 278 879: 150 n. 57, 277 882: 277 884: 278 888: 78 n. 46, 159 n. 74, 277, 278 889: 277 894: 277, 278 896: 277 900: 300 901: 82 n. 59, 278 903: 277 Comica Adespota (Com. Adesp.) fr. 103d (a)8-11E: 197 n. 201 Demetrius On Style 59: 241 n. 61 232: 16 n. 46 Demosthenes Against Meidias (21) 165: 138 n. 17 Against Androtion (22) 13.9-10: 131 Against Aristogeiton 1 (25) 97.3-4: 131 Against Boeotus 1 (39) 31: 141 n. 25 35: 140 n. 22, 141 n. 27 Against Boeotus 2 (40) 12: 197 19: 187 n. 160 Against Macartatus (43) 57-58: 195 n. 195 Against Eubulides (57) 1-2: 141 n. 25 In Neaeram [Sp.] (59) 111: 141 n. 25

Index Locorum Funeral Oration (60) 12: 35 n. 84 34: 39 n. 94 Dictys Cretensis Ephemeridos belli (Ephem.) 3.5: 263, 264

Troiani

libri

Diogenes Laertius 3.44: 125 n. 200 8.31: 126 Dionysius Chalcus (West) 6.1-2: 271 Empedocles (DK) B 3.1-2: 168 B 112: 82, 84 n. 64 B 115: 83 n. 63 B 117: 83 n. 63 Epic Cycle Thebais fr. 10 PEG 1 (Bernabé) = fr. 7 EGF (Davies): 262 Epigrams (anonymous, not in CEG) Geffcken ep. 148: 300 n. 225 Kaibel ep. 77: 85 n. 72, 276 n. 160 Kaibel ep. 79: 300 n. 223 Kaibel ep. 151: 202 n. 226 Kaibel ep. 823: 68 n. 13, 274 Kaibel ep. 824: 68 n. 13, 274 Epilycus (K.-A.) fr. 5 (Koraliskos): 116 Euripides Cyclops (Cycl.) 620-621: 268

Index Locorum Alcestis (Alc.) 81-82: 271, 273 249: 270 362: 69 n. 15 643: 69 n. 16, 94, 270 667: 85 n. 71 744-746: 133 n. 225 868: 85 n. 71 885-886: 270, 272 Medea (Med.) 999: 270 1221: 268 Heracleidae (Hcld.) 592-595: 35 760-761: 270, 272 n. 146 Hippolytus (Hipp.) 87: 69 n. 16 454-456: 120 n. 179 767-768: 270 1140: 270 Andromache (Andr.) 406: 70 n. 18 770-771: 181 858: 270 Hecuba (Hec.) 11-12: 181 91: 270, 272 436: 81 n. 53 Suppliants (Suppl.) 532: 69 n. 15 797: 269 1022: 91 n. 95, 95, 269 Heracles (Her.) 143: 81 n. 53 490-491: 35 807-808: 91 n. 95 1081: 269 1427: 275 Ion 20: 270, 273 229-230: 270, 273 483-484: 270, 272 n. 146

359

869: 269, 277 1349: 81 n. 53 1387: 270 Trojan Women (Tro.) 269: 71 n. 22 756: 270 787: 270 1188-1191: 55 n. 138 Electra (El.) 349: 271, 273 449-450: 76 955-956: 69 n. 16 1260: 89 n. 90 Iphigeneia among the Taurians (IT) 515: 268 1005-1006: 269 Helen (Hel.) 42-43: 270 n. 142 540: 268 623: 268 1133: 275 1373: 85 n. 71 Phoenician Women (Phoen.) 320-321: 269 1006: 89 n. 89 1084: 71 n. 22, 271, 273 1097-1098: 270, 272 n. 146 1352: 69 n. 16 1363: 270, 272 n. 146 1453: 84 1547-1548: 271, 273 1737-1738: 269, 275 Orestes (Or.) 143: 275 207: 81 n. 53 940-942: 181 1045: 269 1082: 269 1451: 275 Bacchae (Ba.) 12: 275 476: 142 n. 31

360

Index Locorum

1017: 128 n. 213 Iphigeneia at Aulis (IA) 505: 270, 273 773: 89 n. 89 779-780: 269 781-783: 269, 272 865: 81 n. 53 1034-1035: 35 1162-1163: 181 n. 140 1287: 275 Rhesus (Rh.) 245-247: 181 n. 140 708-709: 270, 272 n. 146 735: 69 n. 16 967: 271, 273 Fragments (TrGF 5.1 & 5.2, Kannicht) 119 + 120.4 (Andromeda): 270 293.2 (Bellerophontes): 271, 273 298.3 (Bellerophontes): 270, 272 n. 146 360.45-51 (Erechtheus): 270, 273 443.1 (Hippolytus Καλυπτόμενος): 64 n. 3 484.4 (Melanippa Sapiens): 69 n. 15 757.942-943 (Hipsipyle): 269 816.11 (Phoenix): 80 853.1 (fabula incerta): 142 n. 31 1132.31 (dubia et spuria): 269 Eustathius Scholia to Homer’s Iliad (van der Valk) 18.570: 79 Scholia to Homer’s Odyssey 5.1: 120 n. 180 Firmicus Maternus De errore profanarum religionum 3: 68 n. 13 31: 274

GVI (Peek) 28: 299 340: 138 n. 15 420: 138 n. 14 890: 180 n. 134 891: 178 n. 126 1211: 82 n. 55 1386: 175 n. 117 1654: 124 n. 193 1697: 109 n. 149 1705: 179 n. 129 1786: 182 n. 141 1790: 78 1986: 176 n. 119 2074: 266 n. 131 Hermesianax (Powell, CA) fr. 7.21: 275 n. 156 fr. 7.44: 275 n. 156 Hermogenes Progymnasmata 4: 15 Herodotus 1.55: 81 n. 53 1.77: 81 n. 53 1.96: 142 1.108: 81 n. 53 3.65: 81 n. 53 3.72: 81 n. 53 4.144: 131 4.187: 81 n. 53 7.29: 81 n. 53 7.73: 81 n. 53 7.94: 81 n. 53 7.209: 142 7.213: 266 n. 133 7.228: 42 8.129: 81 n. 53 9.63: 81 n. 53 9.73: 81 n. 53

361

Index Locorum 9.89: 81 n. 53 Hesiod Theogony (Th.) 157: 69 n. 14 169: 158 n. 73 247: 104 395-396: 74 625-626: 69 n. 14 652: 69 n. 14 Works and Days 130: 158 n. 73 289-291: 93 339: 64 n. 3 Shield (Sc.) 98: 89 n. 83 Fragments (Merkelbach and West) 26.17: 158 n. 73 257.3: 275 283-285: 10 Hesychius (Latte) s.v. κερκώπη (p. 465): 115 n. 161 Homer Iliad (Il.) 1.118-120: 72 1.120: 71 n. 21, 72 n. 26 1.187: 74 1.249: 264 1.270: 264 1.505-507: 74 1.605: 65 2.325: 159 n. 75 2.486: 159 n. 75 2.547: 263 2.547-551: 263 2.651: 89 n. 85 2.707: 267 n. 134 2.851: 264 3.110: 71 n. 22 3.150-152: 119 n. 171

3.179: 208 n. 252, 262 4.441: 89 n. 83 5.3: 159 n. 75 5.31: 89 n. 84 5.120: 265 5.440: 267 n. 134 5.455: 89 n. 84 5.518: 89 n. 84 5.576-579: 263, 264 5.844: 89 n. 87 5.845: 89 n. 88 5.846: 89 n. 84 5.909: 89 n. 84 6.24: 267 n. 134 6.446: 159 n. 75 7.153: 267 n. 134 7.166: 89 n. 85 8.192: 159 n. 75 8.264: 89 n. 85 8.349: 89 n. 84 8.480-481: 85 n. 70 9.15: 273 9.102: 84 9.161: 267 n. 134 9.251: 267 n. 134 11.21: 159 n. 75 11.295: 89 n. 84 11.643: 84 11.786-787: 267 n. 134 11.788: 84 11.789: 84 12.130: 89 n. 84 12.201 ff.: 262 n. 115 13.298: 89 n. 84 13.364: 159 n. 75 13.444: 89 n. 88 13.484: 201 13.521: 89 n. 88 13.658: 264 13.802: 89 n. 84 14.315-328: 285 15.112: 89 n. 88

362 15.166: 267 n. 134 15.182: 267 n. 134 15.564: 159 n. 75 16.4: 273 16.188: 85 16.613: 89 n. 88 16.669: 275 n. 155 17.37: 271 17.131: 159 n. 75 17.259: 89 n. 85 17.529: 89 n. 88 18.10-11: 265 18.11: 79, 265 18.42: 104 18.56: 176 n. 121, 201 n. 216 18.437-438: 201 n. 216 19.224: 126 n. 204 19.320-321: 107 20.46: 89 n. 84 21.402: 89 n. 87 21.421: 89 n. 84 22.71-76: 89 22.386-387: 206 n. 241 Odyssey (Od.) 1.95: 159 n. 75 1.273: 267 n. 134 2.217: 159 n. 75 3.83: 159 n. 75 3.380: 159 n. 75 4.17: 266 4.210: 206 n. 240 4.833: 265 5.311: 159 n. 75 7.25: 264 8.74: 159 n. 75 11.53-54: 206 n. 241 11.93: 79 11.136: 206 n. 240, 266 13.269: 273 15.50: 273 16.20-22: 76 n. 40 16.23: 75, 76 n. 40, 265

Index Locorum 17.41: 265 18.11: 79, 265 19.333: 159 n. 75 19.368: 206 n. 240 20.507: 201 23.283: 266 23.301: 84 24.1-4: 126 n. 208 24.423: 271 Homeric Hymns To Demeter (2) 6: 114 n. 159 9: 267 n. 136 17: 267 31: 267 35: 158 n. 73 101: 103 103: 103 142: 103 200-201: 107 228-229: 106 n. 139 238: 106 n. 139 260-261: 107 263: 107 268: 107 273-274: 103 291: 103 304: 107 311-312: 107 328: 107 344: 108 353-354 107: 366: 107 367-369: 103 430: 267 443-444: 107 461-462: 107 487: 107 To Hermes (4) 572-573: 126 n. 208

Index Locorum To Aphrodite (5) 236-237: 120 n. 180 272: 80 To Pan (19) 37: 274 Hypereides Funeral Oration (6) 28: 34 n. 84 34: 34 n. 84 42: 34 n. 84 43: 41 n. 97 Inscriptions IG I2 81: 190 IG I3 365: 166 n. 91 IG I3 368: 166 n. 91 IG II2 687: 166 n. 93 IG II2 780: 166 n. 93 IG II2 1273: 274 IG II2 1327: 274 IG II2 1371: 127 n. 209 IG II2 1374: 127 n. 209 IG II2 1375: 127 n. 209 IG II2 1377: 127 n. 209 IG II2 1672: 102 n. 122 IG II2 2320: 268 IG II2 4563: 274 IG II2 4609: 274 IG II2 4751: 102 n. 122 IG II2 8609: 165 IG II2 8628: 165 IG II2 13138: 264 n. 124 IG XIV 641: 84 n. 64 Ion (West) fr. eleg. 26.4-5: 275 Isaeus On Dicaeogenes (5) 16: 138

On Apollodorus (7) 20: 138 23: 138 On Ciron (8) 37: 138 On Hagnias (11) 23: 138 Isocrates To Demonicus (1) 5: 69 n. 16 To Nicocles (2) 37: 131 44: 13 Panegyricus (4) 84: 131 On Peace (8) 94: 132 Evagoras (9) 2: 34 n. 84 3: 132 32: 143 47-50: 143 71: 132 Antidosis (15) 99: 143 Lucian Pro lapsu inter salutandum 2: 84 n. 66 Lucretius De rerum natura 4.58: 119 n. 73 Lysias Funeral Oration (2) 6: 131 78: 34 n. 84 80: 126 n. 203 81: 131

363

364 Ἀπολογία δωροδοκίας ἀπαράσημος (21) 24: 283 n. 174 In Defense of Mantitheus (16) 3: 136 n. 7 9: 142 n. 28 10 ff.: 136 n. 7 Περὶ τῆς Εὐάνδρου δοκιμασίας (26) 4-5: 136 n. 7

Index Locorum Fragments 388 F 6 (Bernabé) = 49 iv 64-65 (Kern): 267 389 F 10 (Bernabé) = 49 v 69-70 (Kern): 267 421-469 (Bernabé): 128 n. 211 425-426 (Bernabé): 128 n. 211 Pausanias 1.3.1: 120 n. 179

Melanippides (PMG) 758: 173 n. 111 766: 79 n. 47

Philetaerus (K.-A.) fr. 9: 119 n. 174

Menander Samia (Sam.) 553-554: 197 n. 201

Philo (Alexandrinus) De vita contemplativa 35: 117 n. 167

Mimnermus (West) fr.1: 85, 88 fr. 2: 88 fr. 4: 88 fr. 5: 88 fr. 14: 88

Philochorus (FGrHist) 328 test. 1: 53 n. 132 328 F 207: 79 n. 47

Nepos (Cornelius) Datames 2.2: 263 Nicander Theriaca (Th.) 31: 118 n. 169 Orphica Hymns 18.11-12: 267 28: 127 n. 208 57: 127 n. 208 Argonautica 547: 274

Pindar Olympians (Olymp.) 1.23: 159 n. 75 1.52-53: 11 n. 14 1.93-94: 159 n. 75 2.9-10: 70 n. 18 2.69-70: 41 n. 97 2.95-96: 11 n. 14 6.16: 70 n. 18 6.17: 262 9.35-43: 11 n. 14 9.101: 159 n. 75 10.21: 159 n. 75 10.87: 271 10.95: 159 n. 75 Pythians (Pyth.) 1.66: 159 n. 75 1.81-85: 122 n. 184 1.82-83: 11 n. 14 2.52: 99 n. 114

Index Locorum 3.111: 159 n. 75 4.174-175: 159 n. 75 4.218: 271 4.298-299: 162, 168 5.72-73: 159 n. 75 Nemeans (Nem.) 3.29-31: 11 n. 14 5.16-18: 11 n. 14 6.53-57: 11 n. 14 7.99-100: 206 n. 240 8.20-22: 11 n. 14 8.36-37: 159 n. 75 10.20: 11 n. 14 Isthmians (Isthm.) 2.17: 75 3.1-3: 167 n. 96 5.7: 271 5.8: 159 n. 75 5.52-53: 11 n. 14 6.25: 159 n. 75 7.29: 159 n. 75 Fragments 129: 41 n. 97 130: 41 n. 97 131: 41 n. 97 131a-131b: 60 n. 157 133: 128 n. 212 134 (Snell-Maehler)=59-60 (Cannatà Fera): 60 n. 157 Plato Symposium (Symp.) 208c5: 160 n. 78 208d5: 131 Phaedrus (Phdr.) 255d: 300 n. 224 259a-d: 116 Alcibiades 1 (Alc.) 131b6: 208 n. 251 Amatores (Amat.) 138a10: 142 n. 32

Lysis (Lys.) 212c-d: 300 Euthydemus (Eythd.) 283a4: 142 n. 32 285d1: 142 n. 32 Gorgias (Grg.) 503e6: 147 n. 51 504a: 147 n. 44 504a-505c: 147 n. 45 504a7: 147 n. 51 504a8-9: 146 n. 43 504b7-9: 148 n. 51 507d1: 142 n. 32 508a: 147 n. 48 527d2: 142 n. 32 527d3: 142 n. 32 527e4: 142 n. 32 Meno (Men.) 70a2: 142 n.32 Menexenus (Menex.) 236d7: 147 n. 50 236e2: 147 n. 50 246e1: 142 n.32 248b-c: 34 n. 84 Republic (Resp.) 407a8: 142 n. 32 407c3: 142 n. 32 551a4: 142 n. 32 Laws (Leg.) 768b: 141 n. 26 Plautus Aulularia (Aulul.) 796-798: 197 n. 201 Plutarch Alcibiades (Alc.) 8: 188 n. 161 Aetia Romana et Graeca 299 A10-299 B11: 128 n. 213 On Isis and Osiris (De Is.et Os.) 35: 128 n. 213

365

366

Index Locorum

On Living Secretly (De occult. viv.) 1130b: 64 n. 2 Porphyrius On the Cave of the Nymphs 18: 104 n. 133 Priscianus Praeexercitamina (De sententia): 4: 15 Quintilian Institutio Oratoria 10.1.68: 13 n. 32 Sappho (Voigt) fr. 168: 273 Scholia to Lycophron’s Alexandra (Scheer) 18: 119 n. 173, 120 n. 180 Scholia to Pindar (Drachmann) Olympians 6.15 ff.: 262 n. 116 Pythians 4.106a: 104 n. 133 Scholia to the Iliad (Erbse) 18.570c1: 79 Scholia to Theocritus (Wendel) 15.94: 104 n. 133 SEG 25.299: 75 n. 34 41.540A: 44 n. 107 43.88: 196 n. 197, 206 n. 238, 287 n. 186, 321 n. 1 ΣΕΜΑ 821: 277, 283, 287 n. 186, 292, 293, 321

Semonides (West) fr. 1: 88 Simonides fr. eleg. 22 W2: 60 fr. 26.4-5 (PMG): 131 n. 223 fr. 531.8-9 (PMG): 159 AP 7.253=FGE 8: 71 n. 20, 291 Solon (West) fr. 10: 223 fr. 24: 88 fr. 29b: 88 fr. 32.3: 159 n. 75 fr. 34: 88 fr. 36.3: 223 n. 18 Sophocles Ajax (Aj.) 1194: 269 Electra (El.) 86: 64 n. 3 96: 89 n. 89 136: 274 110-112: 126 n. 208 137-138: 269 1104: 268 Oedipus the King (OT) 181: 269 630: 141 n. 25 509-510: 171 n. 103 987: 70 n. 18 1213: 268, 271 1460-1461: 181 n. 139 1529-1530: 69 n. 16, 94, 270 Antigone (Ant.) 361-364: 124 n. 192 804: 269 804-805: 91 n. 95 806-808: 266 n. 132 810-811: 269 944: 64 n. 3

Index Locorum 946-947: 91 n. 95 Women of Trachis (Trach.) 384: 142 n. 31 829: 71 n. 22 Philoctetes (Phil.) 348-349: 81 n. 53 436-437: 269 625: 69 n. 15 1445: 268 Oedipus at Colonus (OC) 89: 96 505-506: 181 n. 139 913: 142 n. 31 1050: 103 n. 131 1524: 270 1547-1548: 127 n. 208 1708: 269 Fragments 301 (Hipponous): 268, 271 724 (Phryges aut Hectoris lytra): 269 752.2 (fabula incerta): 268 Speusippus fr. 9 (Lang) = fr. 127 (Patente): 116 Stobaeus 1.49.69: 126 Telestes (PMG) 805: 173 n. 112 Terence Adelphoe (Ad.) 333-334: 197 n. 201 Theognis (West) 93-100: 81 n. 53 243: 273 272: 88 426: 85 527-528: 274

552: 88 569: 80 768: 88 797-798: 88 1011: 88 1012: 88 1132: 88 1183-1184: 85 1187-1188: 94 Theophrastus History of Plants (Hist. Pl.) 3.13.6: 275 Fragments 177: 118 n. 169 Thucydides 1.6: 120 n. 177 1.68-72: 137 n. 11 1.108: 81 n. 53 2.35-46: 122 2.37: 138 n. 16 2.42.1: 123 n. 185 2.51: 81 n. 53 3.46: 81 n. 53 3.114: 81 n. 53 2.77: 81 n. 53 4.117: 81 n. 53 6.31: 81 n. 53 Timocreon (PMG) 728.2: 159 n. 75 Tyrtaeus (West) fr. 10: 89 fr. 11: 88 fr. 12: 88 fr. 14: 94 Xenophanes 6.3: 159 n. 75

367

368 Xenophon Memorabilia (Mem.) 1.2.23: 147 n. 46 Oeconomicus (Oec.) 7.14-16: 150 n. 58 Anabasis (Anab.) 1.2.8: 173 n. 110 Spartan Constitution (SC) 10: 94

Index Locorum