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MAR 12 1948 

Votume XLIII NuMBER 1 
January 1948 


A Quarterly Journal devoted to re- 
search in the Languages, Literatures, 
History, and Life of Classical Antiquity 



JAKOB A. O. LARSEN, Managing Editor 
JOHN PHILIP COOKE, Assistant Editor 

HAROLD F. CHERNISS, University of California RODNEY POTTER ROBINSON, University of Cincinnati 
BEN EDWIN PERRY, University of Illinois LILY ROSS TAYLOR, Bryn Mawr College 


The Concept of Sophrosyne in Greek Literary Criticism . . . . . Helen F. North 
Textual Noteson Seneca . . ee ae ee . Ben L. Charney 

The Theban Eagle in English Plumage ... . . . . « Reuben A. Brower 

Insular Contribution to Medieval Literary Tradition on the Continent (Concluded) 

Blanche B. Boyer 

Notes and Discussions Pa eee ee ae ee hue ety: 

Rosert S. BrumMsBavuaH: Note on the Numbers in Plato's Critias.—Rosert J. M. Linpsar: The Chronology 

¢ oe, : eine Downey: Procopius De aedificiis i. 4. 3— Maurice P. Cunninauam: Seneca 
pistulae 14, 8. 

TAGON RO VIOWB | a 55 on slo Uae, wh en Be Per leieeie Nai cee OR ee Ba Se) eee alee 
Manie Detcovrt: Oedipe, ou la légende du conquérant (Daly).—ANpr£ Picanto: L’ Empire chrétien (825-395) 
Vasiliev).—Rays Carpenter: Observations on Familiar Statuary in Rome (Johnson).—[A.-J.] FestuGi®re: 
Révélation d’Hermés Trismégiste, Vol. I: L'Astrologie et les sciences occultes (Walton).—H. Frankfort 
et al.: The Intellectual Adventure of Ancient Man (Bickerman).—RicHMOND LATTIMORE (trans.): The Odes of 
Pindar (Norwood).—Lovuts C. West and ALLAN CHESTER JOHNSON: Currency in Roman and Byzantine Egypt 
(Broughton).—Prmrre Louis: Les Métaphores de Platon (Berry).—American Numismatic Society Museum 
Notes, Vol. I (1945) (Stuart).—Josmrx P. CaristopHer (trans.): St. Augustine, The First Catechetical Instruc- 
tion (Green).—MArTIN VAN DEN BruwaENeE: Etudes sur Cicéron (Katz).—Grorce EMMANUEL MyYLonas: 
The Hymn to Demeter and Her Sanctuary at Eleusis (Amyx).—EpaGar H. Sturtevant: An Introduction to 
Linguistic Science (Bolling).—Norman H. Baynes: The Hellenistic Civilization and East Rome (Boak) .— 
James A. Kuerst (trans.): The Epistles of St. Clement of Rome and St. Ignatius of Antioch, Newly Translated 
and Annotated (Casey). 

Books Received 

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Volume XLIII 


Number 1 



ANY terms popular with literary 

critics of Hellenistic and Greco- 

Roman times derive from spheres 

totally unconnected with literature. Some, 
like doretos and &ypouxos, have their origin 
in social distinctions.2 Some, like tyos, 
Babos, dykos, and Bapos, originally indicated 
physical dimensions—height, depth, bulk, 
and weight. Many were first used to de- 
scribe characteristics of living things; 
among these are pwn, rovos, and dpa. 
Others have gone through several stages: 
avornpos, for example, began by describing 
the rough and bitter taste of dry wine and 
was then transferred to the realm of 
music, where it characterized severe and 
unadorned melodies. By an easy and ap- 
parently not uncommon transference, it 
was then applied to literary, and especial- 
ly to prose, style.? Metaphorical terminol- 
ogy was also borrowed from the sphere of 
ethics, notably in the application to style 
1This article originally formed a chapter of the 
writer’s doctoral dissertation on the concept of sophro- 
syne in Greek literature from Homer to Aristotle. It 
was revised for publication during her tenure of the 
Mary Isabel Sibley Fellowship awarded by the Phi 

Beta Kappa Foundation, under the terms of which she 
gathered additional material for a book on the subject 
of sophrosyne. 

: For the origin of these and other terms see LaRue 
Van Hook, The Metaphorical Terminology of Greek 
Rhetoric and Literary Criticism (Chicago, 1905). 

*See Wilhelm Kroll, ‘‘Randbemerkungen,”"’ Rh. 
Mus., LXII (1907), 100-101. 

(Cuassica, PurtoLogy, XLIII, January, 1948] 

of such concepts as ‘‘moderation’”’ and 
“propriety.” It was Aristotle who set the 
precedent for using the word “virtue” in 
literary criticism. Earlier rhetoricians 
may have discussed qualities of style, but 
there is no reason to suppose that anyone 
spoke of an dper? Nétews before Aristotle 
used the term in the Rhetoric and the 
Poetics* and, as Hendrickson and Stroux 
have demonstrated, applied to literary 
style precisely the same concept of dpern 
as that applied to human conduct in the 
Nicomachean Ethics.’ Aristotle included 
all the qualities essential to stylistic excel- 
lence in a single virtue, which Theophras- 
tus then resolved into four virtutes dicendi; 
and thereafter literary critics did not hesi- 
tate to draw analogies between moral and 
stylistic qualities. Demetrius, for exam- 
ple, prefaces his discussion of the vice ad- 
jacent to the elevated style with the ex- 
plicit reminder: “‘As in the sphere of mor- 
als certain bad qualities exist side by side 
‘ Rhet. 1404 b 1; Poet. 1458 a 18. 

5G. L. Hendrickson, ‘‘The Peripatetic Mean of 
Style and the Three Stylistic Characters,’ AJP, XXV 
(1904), 132-42; Johannes Stroux, De Theophrasti 
virtutibus dicendi (Leipzig, 1912), pp. 30-31. See 
chap. iv, pp. 43-54, for evidence that the Isocratean 
virtutes narrationis, while they no doubt influenced 
Hellenistic theories of stylistic virtue, originally dealt 
not with style but with content and were not called 
“‘virtues”’ until after Aristotle and Theophrastus had 
made this term popular in criticism. 

2 , HELEN F.. Nortu 

with certain attractive qualities, also 
the leading types of style are matched by 
distorted varieties.’’ 

Of the four Peripatetic virtues of style, 
only one—7éd mpérov—borrows its name 
from the ethical vocabulary. The other 
three—‘E\Anuicyds, cadnvea, and karackevn 
—are called “virtues” only by reason of 
the Aristotelian metaphor. On the other 
hand, several words which entered into 
critical terminology at first carried an 
ethical connotation but never achieved 
the technical status of stylistic “virtues.” 
A few of these gained considerable impor- 
tance in Peripatetic criticism, especially 
pérpios and péoos, both of which had been 
significant in Aristotelian ethics.” Akin to 
these ethical concepts which formed the 
backbone of Hellenistic criticism—yerp- 
érns, meodrns, and 7d mpérov—is yet a 
fourth ethical concept, that of sophrosyne. 
Although the ideas implicit in the words 
perpiorns and 76 mpérov are not closely re- 
lated to each other, both are intimately 
allied with sophrosyne, which, like perpi- 
érns, embodies the traditional Greek in- 
stinct for moderation, restraint of im- 
pulse, and measure in all things and, like 
7d mpérov, reflects the equally Greek de- 
mand for fitness and propriety in speech 
and action.* But, whereas perpidrns and 

6 De elog. 114 (Spengel, Rhetores Graeci, III, 287, 
ll. 21 ff.; trans. Rhys Roberts, who compares Rhet. ad 
Her. iv. 10, finitima et propinqua vitia). Cf. also 119 
(Spengel, III, 288, ll. 22 ff.) and see Dionysius De 
comp. 24 (Usener-Radermacher, II, 1, 120, ll. 16 ff.) 

on ypeodrns, and the fragment on brevity in the Ars 
Cornuti 102 (Spengel, I, 2, 370, ll. 9 ff.). 

7 Although yérpwos (‘‘measurable, within meas- 
ure’’) and yéoos (‘‘middle’’) with their derivatives 
werpidrns and yeodrns are etymologically distinct, 
both have an obvious bearing on the concept of mod- 
eration and thus tended to be used as synonyms. For 
recent discussions of the importance of these concepts 
in rhetoric see, On perpidrns and yeodrns, S. F. Bonner, 
‘Dionysius of Halicarnassus and the Peripatetic Mean 
of Style,’’ Class. Phil., XX XIII (1938), 257-66; and, 
on 7d xpérov, Max Pohlenz, Té xpéxov (Berlin, 1933). 

8On the connection between sophrosyne and 
7d xptrov See Cicero De off. i. 27. 93-94; Pohlenz, op. cit.; 
and Lotte Labowsky, Die Ethik des Panaetius (Leip- 
zig, 1934), pp. 6 ff. 

To mperov were both absorbed into the 
critical vocabulary and became technical 
terms whose meaning was fixed, sophro- 
syne was never completely naturalized in 
the new realm, and its significance varied 
with its context. Still sophrosyne and its 
cognate forms were so closely identified 
with the feeling for harmony and restraint 
which governed every phase of Greek life 
that they were bound to appear occasion- 
ally in literary criticism. Their use serves 
to illustrate the constant interchange be- 
tween ethical and aesthetic spheres in an- 
cient civilization, for the process by which 
sophrosyne found its way into criticism is 
typical of the development of many such 
terms. It may therefore be helpful to ex- 
amine the connotation of the word in a 
number of passages brought to light by a 
search which does not pretend to be ex- 

The connection of sophrosyne with 
style in oratory and other forms of litera- 
ture did not interest the Greeks until near 
the end of the classical period, when criti- 
cism first engaged their attention. In the 
beginning, the word cwdpwy or its cognate 
forms, when applied to oratory or poetry, 
referred either to the mental or moral con- 
dition of the author or to the moral effect 
which his work had on the audience. 
Throughout the history of ancient rheto- 
ric, the Greeks and Romans tended to 
believe that style reflects character and 
that sophrosyne, together with the other 
virtues, is essential to the good orator." 

® No attempt is made here to investigate the use of 
the topic of sophrosyne in epideictic oratory, a subject 
extensive in itself and unrelated to the problem of 
style, nor is there room in this paper to consider at 
length the relation of the general concept of self- 
restraint to the process of composition. Only specific 

allusions to sophrosyne in matters of style are here 
dealt with. 

10 On style as the mirror of character in every form 
of art, see Plato Repub. 401 A; in literature, see Seneca 
Epp. 114 and 115. Too numerous for listing here are 
the ancient demands that the orator be morally good, 
from Plato’s Gorgias to Cato’s vir bonus, dicendi 
peritus. When the cardinal virtues had been canonized, 


Generally, the moral excellence of the 
speaker is felt to be important less because 
it affects his style than because it enhances 
his use of ethical persuasion." Yet occa- 
sionally we find that the sophrosyne of an 
author is expected to have some influence, 
other than the purely ethical, upon his 
work, and here it is that the virtue enters 
the province of style. Plato was among the 
first to recognize this possibility. In Phae- 
drus he includes the poet among those 
who are inspired by the divine madness to 
greater heights than can be attained with 
the help of sophrosyne, which here means 
“sanity.’’!? It is beside the point that in 
this passage Plato, for once, treats sophro- 
syne as an undesirable quality.!* The im- 
portant facts are that he regards it as a 
condition of the poet which inevitably af- 
fects his work and that this effect is seen 
not in the moral content but in the liter- 
ary quality of the poem. Plato’s contem- 
porary, Isocrates, in the Antidosis names 
as one of the qualifications of an orator 
To\UN peTa Gwhpoobyns but does not de- 
scribe the effect of this combination, 
whether ethical or stylistic, on the dis- 
course.!4 From its association with rodun 
it is clear that in this context sophrosyne 
refers not to sanity, as in Phaedrus, but to 
moderation or modesty. This variation in 
meaning was destined to persist through- 
out ancient criticism, for the manifold im- 
plications of the word sophrosyne in ethics 
it became customary to require the ideal orator to 
possess all four. The Stoics gave this idea a new turn. 
Believing that eloquence is itself a virtue and that the 
virtues are inseparable, they taught that the orator 

must automatically possess all the virtues (see Cicero 
De orat. i. 18. 83). 

"On the relation of the moral character of the 
orator to ethical persuasion see especially Aristotle 
Rhet. 1356 a 4-13 and 1377 b 25-1378 a 16; Isocrates 
Antidosis 278-80; Cicero De orat. i. 19. 87, ii. 43. 182; 
and Quintilian vi. 2. 18. 

12245 A ff. 

‘8 Usually Plato interprets sophrosyne as ‘‘modera- 
tion” or ‘‘self-control,”” a moral rather than an intel- 

lectual quality, and holds it essential for the orator 
as for all other men. 


forbade its limitation to any one signifi- 
cance in criticism. 

For further references to sophrosyne as 
a quality of the orator we may look to 
rhetorical works written centuries after 
the time of Plato and Isocrates. In study- 
ing this subject the historical approach 
is of less value than might be expected, 
because allusions to sophrosyne in style are 
too infrequent to show a continuous 
chronological development, and some- 
times an author whose views would be of 
interest is completely silent on this sub- 
ject. Aristotle is a case in point. Whenever 
possible, we shall note the influence which 
a writer’s historical background may have 
had on his interpretation of stylistic 
sophrosyne, but in many cases no such in- 
fluence will be apparent. The intellectual 
aspect of the word cwdpwy is again upper- 
most in a rhetorical réxvy formerly 
ascribed to Aelius Aristides, which tells 
us that it is characteristic of the wise and 
cwppwv to know the value of everything, of 
the just to give what is due (ra mpérovra) 
to himself and others, and of the brave to 
dare to speak the truth." In this context 
cwppwv means “‘prudent’’ or “sensible” and 
is not distinguished from ¢péviuos, nor are 
we told whether the sophrosyne of the 
orator is reflected in the style or in the 
content of the oration. This treatise ad- 
heres to the custom of requiring the ideal 
orator to possess all four of the Stoic vir- 
tues. Ps.-Aristides applies them to modur.- 
kds Aéyos as distinguished from the dédyos 
adedns ; usually the entire canon is required 
in every type of oratory. An exception to 
this rule appears in the twenty-fifth dis- 
course by Maximus of Tyre, who dis- 
tributes four virtues (again the Stoic can- 
on, with a single difference) among four 
types of oratory. Wisdom is necessary for 

15 Spengel, II, 501, ll. 31 f.—502, ll. 1-5. This 
passage is quoted from a genuine discourse by Aris- 
tides—Or. xlix. 399 (Dindorf, II, 539, ll. 21-24). Cf. 
also Or. xlv. 96 (Dindorf, II, 128, ll. 5 ff.). 

4 HELEN F. Nortu 

the deliberative speaker, justice for the 
juridical, sophrosyne for the panegyrist, 
and knowledge (émorqun) for the teach- 
er.'® The application of three of the virtues 
to their respective genera causarum is 
clear enough, but the reason for coupling 
sophrosyne with epideictic may not be 
immediately obvious. The explanation 
should probably be sought in the preced- 
ing passage of the discourse, which deals 
with the evils of flattering speech. The 
danger of flattery is greatest in panegyric, 
which was, moreover, the dominant form 
of oratory at the time when Maximus 
wrote.'? It is therefore natural that he 
should devote most attention to this type 
of oratory, and, since he regards dishonest 
panegyric as dxddacros doyos,'® he would 
necessarily require sophrosyne (here “‘mod- 
eration, restraint’) in honest epideictic. 
The virtue would, no doubt, be reflected 
more in the subject matter than in the 
manner of expression, yet cwdpwr epideictic 
might well apply restraint to style as well 
as to content. 

One of the few clear-cut cases in which 
sophrosyne on the part of an orator has a 
well-defined bearing on the rhetorical ex- 
cellence of his speech occurs in Aristides’ 
discourse On Rhetoric, in a passage which 
seeks to identify phronesis and sophro- 
syne with the rhetorical épya of invention 

16 Or, xxv. 6 (Hobein, p. 304, ll. 10-13). The tradi- 
tion of four cardinal virtues is so strong that Maximus 
retains the number even though he has to substitute 
émorfun for dvipela and add teaching to the customary 
tria genera causarum, 

17 In his demand for an éAnOjs Ajrwp who will be 
superior to all forms of passion, Maximus gives a 
vivid description of the general run of public speakers 
in his day. The emphasis upon the need for honest, 
healthful, unflattering oratory reveals the influence 
of Plato's Gorgias. ‘See also Lucian, A Professor of 
Public Speaking, 15, 16 (Jacobitz, III, 91) on the 
absence of aliws and yerpidrns in Contemporary sophists. 

18 Or, xxv. 5 (Hobein, p. 303, ll. 15-16). Something 
of the same idea lies behind Plutarch's warning about 
the proper kind of praise to bestow upon philosophical 
discourse. To apply érawwos éracpixds tO & Adyos GwHpovdr 
is like crowning an athlete with roses or lilies instead of 
laurel or olive (De rect. rat. aud. 46 A-B). That is, 
praise should itself be cappwr, the opposite of érarpixds. 

and disposition. Sophrosyne is compared 
to raéis because it resembles the manage- 
ment and harmonious arrangement of sup- 
positions and probabilities.’ In his effort 
to relate rhetoric to the virtues, Aristides 
also says that rhetoric is invented by 
phronesis, on behalf of justice, and is pro- 
tected by sophrosyne and andreia.2° He 
further suggests that Hesiod, in the The- 
ogony 80-90, regarded phronesis and 
sophrosyne as the source of rhetoric,”! but 
in neither of these passages does sophro- 
syne have any reference to style. 
Throughout antiquity it was thought 
that speech should have the power to pro- 
duce sophrosyne in an audience. So long as 
the Greeks believed that virtue was capa- 
ble of being taught, they naturally regard- 
ed precept and exhortation as the obvious 
instrument of education. Nestor is the first 
example we have of the wise counselor, re- 
nowned for his power to persuade impetu- 
ous men to behave with moderation. 
Plato sums up the Greek tradition about 
Nestor when he calls him cw@pwv and says 
that blessed are they who hear his cwpovav 
speech.” Greek tragedy supplies other ex- 
amples of the power of exhortation to pro- 
duce sophrosyne, or at least of the Greek 
faith in this power. For example, Danaus 
in the Suppliants of Aeschylus calls his 
counsels to his terrified daughters swd¢po- 
viouara not alone because of the prudent 

19 Or. xlv. 96 (Dindorf, II, 128, ll. 13-14). 

20 Jbid. (Dindorf, II, 128, ll. 5-7). Cf. Or. xlv. 54 
(Dindorf, II, 72, ll. 9 ff.), where Aristides also dis- 
cusses the alliance of rhetoric and the four virtues and 
says that the sophrosyne of those who know rhetoric 
is the salvation of their city, because they prefer a life 
of order to draéia. 

21 Or. xlv. 99 (Dindorf, II, 133, 1. 2). A nineteenth- 
century commentator on ‘“‘The Ethical Theory of 
Rhetoric and Eloquence” observes that all true elo- 
quence springs from integrity and strength of char- 
acter and that self-control is necessary to prevent an 
undue poetic tendency. The same kind of moral force 
is required as for the suppression of bodily passion 
(William Shedd, Literary Essays [New York, 1878], 
pp. 86-87). 

22 Laws 711 E. Cf. Ps.-Plutarch De vit. Hom. 165 
(Bernardakis, p. 429, 1. 26) on Nestor’s ability to im- 
Part sophrosyne. 




nature of the advice but even more be- 
cause Of the effect that it is intended to 
have on the girls.?* That is, his speech is 
not only cwdpwrv but cwdpovitwy as well. 
Yet it was the prose-writers of the fourth 
century, contemporary with the Attic 
orators, who were most impressed by this 
method of education, and no one had 
greater faith than Isocrates in the power 
of discourse, either spoken or written, to 
impart sophrosyne, justice, and the other 
virtues. He founded his pazdeia upon the 
belief not only that rhetorical education 
(rodiriKol NOyor) is the best means of 
stimulating virtue in the student but also 
that the orator-statesman is responsible 
for the advance of his city in sophrosyne 
and justice. Many of his discourses testify 
to this conviction, which was shared by 
some of his readers. Dionysius, for exam- 
ple, praises Isocrates’ speeches as mavdeb- 
wara mpos apernv™ and, in analyzing certain 
famous works, finds the Areopagiticus par- 
ticularly suited to inculcate sophrosyne.*® 
Plato’s stand on this question is well 
known. His condemnation of the greatest 
Athenian statesmen for failing to make 
their people better and more self-con- 
trolled?” formed the basis of many subse- 
quent attacks on the moral status of 
rhetoric. Belief in the ethical influence of 
oratory reached its climax in the move- 
ment known as the ‘‘Second Sophistic,’’ 
when the itinerant professor of public 
speaking liked nothing better than to 

23992. On the protreptic power of poetry in gen- 
eral, the locus classicus is Aristophanes Frogs 1030 ff., 
especially 1055. 

* See Or. xii. 138-40; xv. 84 ff.; xiii. 21, and cf. 
Cicero De orat. ii. 9. 35 for a similar view. 

** De Isoc. 4 (Usener-Radermacher, I, 60. 24— 
61. 1). 

*® De Isoc. 8 (Usener-Radermacher, I, 66. 1); cf. 
also 5 and 10. 

" Gorg. 515 C ff.; ef. also Alc. i. 134 B—D. See the 
attempted rebuttal by Aristides (Or. xlv and xlvi 
[Dindorf]), who contends that Pericles, Cimon, 
Themistocles, and Miltiades did indeed increase 

Athenian xoouérns and sophrosyne, aS well as their 
other virtues. 

harangue a city about its sins and con- 
clude with the pious hope that his words 
had caused a reformation. An excellent 
example of this type of discourse, but little 
removed from the sermon, is Dio’s ad- 
dress to the people of Alexandria, in which 
he reproves them for their vices, especially 
their frivolous devotion to vulgar theatri- 
cal shows, and begs them to heed his ow- 
dpovitwy doyos. He reminds them that dis- 
courses like his, which make men better, 
happier, and cwdpovéorepo, are rare in- 
deed?’ and congratulates himself on hav- 
ing given them, if nothing else, one hour 
of sophrosyne.*° 

But, although it is nothing new to read 
that oratory should chasten and restrain 
an audience and impart to it moderation, 
a further development of the concept of 
owppwy speech occurred in which the ethi- 
cal motive ceased to predominate. A paral- 
lel may exist in another of the arts, for it 
is probable that the Greeks at first regard- 
ed as cwhpwv that music which had a calm- 
ing effect on the hearer and engendered in 
him temperance and moderation.*° Plato, 
however, used the word caPpwr to describe 

28 Or, xxxii. 7 (Arnim, I, 269, 1. 4). 

29 Tbid. 30 (Arnim, I, 275, 1. 14). Cf. Or. xxxiii 
(Arnim, I, 276, 1. 19). The speeches of Dio and other 
rhetors who dabbled in philosophy reveal the influence 
of the Cynic diatribe, one of whose recognized aims 
was 1d owpovife (See Gustav A. Gerhard, Phoenix 
von Kolophon (Leipzig and Berlin, 1909], pp. 35 ff.). 
For other eminent examples of the cwdpovifwy ddyos 
see Julian Misopogon; Aristides Or. xlii and xliv; and 
Libanius Or. xvi (Foerster). In Or. 1. 415 (Dindorf, 
II, 569, ll. 11-13) Aristides ridicules the so-called 
“Dancing Sophists’’ and asks how they expect to 
exhort their hearers to sophrosyne, manliness, and 
endurance, if they cannot even maintain order in their 
own speeches. The artes rhetoricae also recognized the 
power of the orator to cwdpoviter his audience (see 
Ps.-Aristides (Spengel, II, 502, 1. 10] and Troilus the 
Sophist [Rabe, Proleg. syl. 56. 20)). The ability to 
instil sophrosyne was often attributed to lawgivers and 
wise men. For a late and extravagant use of this topic 
of epideictic see Iamblichus Life of Pythagoras 31 

30 On the power of a calm and well-regulated type 
of music to instil sophrosyne see Plato Repub. 404 E, 
410A; Aristotle Politics 1340a18 ff.; Ps.-Plutarch 
De mus. 1146 B; Clemens Alex. Paedagog. 195; and 
cf. also Hermann Abert, Die Lehre vom Ethos in der 
griechischen Musik (Leipzig, 1899). 

6 HELEN F. Nortu 

harmonies that were severe and simple 
rather than vulgar and cloying*®! and to 
distinguish the Phrygian from the Dorian 
mode,*? while Plutarch applied the term 
to the paean as opposed to the dithy- 
ramb.** The earlier implications of the 
word were never wholly lost, it is true; but 
it became possible to refer by the word 
owppwv to qualities remote from the moral 
effect of music on the hearer. It is con- 
ceivable that the term cwdpwv as descrip- 
tive of style passed from ethics first to 
music and then to literature. It is certain, 
at any rate, that Aristotle’s use of other 
ethical terms in the Rhetoric and the Po- 
elics supplied a precedent for the transfer 
of the word owdpwr. 

Owing to the loss of virtually all Greek 
criticism between Aristotle and Dionysius 
of Halicarnassus (or Demetrius, for their 
chronology is still uncertain) ,*4 we cannot 
determine how early a cwdpwy speech 
ceased to be one whose content was cal- 
culated to render its hearers moderate and 
restrained and became one whose style 
was itself in some way moderate and re- 
strained. The difference between the ethi- 
val and the aesthetic implications is well 
illustrated by William Michael Rossetti’s 
comment on the use of the parallel term 
“chaste’’ in English criticism: ‘Critics 
have a habit of calling certain sorts of 
work ‘chaste’; not as indicating any qual- 
ity of moral continence but as implying 
the correctest and purest taste, unmixed 
with any license or audacity.’’® 

The first extant use of any derivative 
of the word cwdpwr in a purely stylistic 
sense is probably to be found in a frag- 
ment of the essay On Imitation, which 
Bonner regards as the earliest of the 
Scripta rhetorica by Dionysius of Halicar- 

») Laws 802 C. 

2 Repub. 399 C. 

33 De E apud Delphos 389 B. 

2+ See Wilhelm Kroll, RE, Suppl. VII, 1079. 28 ff. 
35 Lives of Famous Poets (London, 1878), p. 262. 

nassus.** Here Isocrates is described as 
“tempering grandeur with simplicity”’ in 
his style (ceuvdrnra owppoviftwr AurornT1).37 
The fellow-critic and friend of Dionysius, 
Caecilius of Calacte, was also familiar 
with this terminology, if he is rightly cred- 
ited with the comment that a certain 
clause in Aeschines’ Oration against Cte- 
stphon is phrased with restraint, not with 
frivolity (cwppdrws, ob koidws).*® The same 
conception of sophrosyne as a source of 
stylistic restraint or good taste is shown 
by Demetrius, who refers to the need for 
discretion in applying verbal adornment 
to jests. Graces of style should be used 
pera awppootvns, for to dress up a joke is 
like beautifying an ape.*® According to this 
critic, sophrosyne also enters into éxdoyn, 
the choice of words, and is closely related 
to a feeling for 7d rpéxov. Even in poetry, 
Demetrius holds, one endowed with the 
power of nice discrimination (ris axpiBas 
owpovav) would reject inappropriate met- 
aphors and compounds.‘*° Hermogenes, in 
the second century after Christ, recog- 
nizes the relation of sophrosyne to style 
but studies this quality chiefly in connec- 
tion with its effect on the audience. In the 
treatise Tlepi peOddov dSewdrnros he dis- 
tinguishes between epideictic and sophis- 
tic figures of speech on the ground that, 
whereas sophistic figures flatter the ear in 
an unworthy and empty fashion, the epi- 
deictic variety, such as Isocrates used in 
his paraenetic speeches, contributes to 
the #50v% opp (“proper pleasure’”’) of the 
hearer.*! The twelfth-century Byzantine 

36S. F. Bonner, The Literary Treatises of Dionysius 
of Halicarnassus (Cambridge, 1939), p. 38. Rhys 
Roberts, however, assigns it to fifth place (Dionysius 
of Halicarnassus: The Three Literary Letters [Cam- 
bridge, 1901], p. 6). 

37 De imit. 31 (Usener-Radermacher, II, 1, 212. 6). 

38 Frag. 161 (Ofenloch). 

39 De elog. 165 (Spengel, III, 299, 1. 3). 

40 Jbid., 188 (Spengel, III, 303, 1. 13). 

41 Tlept yeOddou Sevdrnros, 13 (Spengel, II, 437, 1. 20). 
See Eduard Norden, Die antike Kunstprosa (Leipzig, 
1898), I, 383, on the varieties of cxjyara. 




commentator, Gregory of Corinth, elabo- 
rating upon this distinction, explains that 
a owppwr jéovn is one that does not depend 
on jokes or jests or witty sayings.*? He 
adds that epideictic figures should be used 
in a forensic speech so that tired ears may 
be aroused by the beauty of the language, 
for this would be a cawdpwr jdov7.4? The 
importance of these two passages lies in 
the fact that, while the effect on the audi- 
ence is still primary, this effect is attained 
by the style of the speech rather than by 
its moral content. 

A rather heterogeneous listing of the 
qualities upon which the cwdpwy style de- 
pends may be found in the Art of Rhetoric 
by Ps.-Aristides, mentioned above. After 
suggesting that the orator must both pos- 
sess sophrosyne himself and produce it in 
his audience, Ps.-Aristides further re- 
quires him to demonstrate that his speech, 
too, has a full share of beauty, intelligence, 
strength, and sophrosyne. Possession of 
these excellences is reflected in compact- 
ness of enthymemes, symmetrical phrases, 
harmonious composition, subtlety, figures 
of speech, and the graceful use of common- 
places, of artistry, and of specific ques- 
tions (hypotheses).44 We are not told 
whether all these elements contribute to 
all the stylistic excellences mentioned or 
whether each bears on one particular qual- 
ity. If sophrosyne is to be understood as 
“moderation” or “good taste,’’ presum- 
ably symmetry and harmonious composi- 
tion would be the corresponding elements 
involved. It will be recalled that Aristides, 
in his authentic discourse On Rhetoric, 
compared sophrosyne to disposition or ar- 

Philostratus, the historian of the Sec- 
ond Sophistic, also makes sophrosyne a 
criterion of style, this time in the use of 

" Walz, Rhetores Graeci, VII, 2, 1228. 16-17. 

8 Thid., 1233. 10-13. 
‘** Spengel, II, 502, ll. 12-16. 

rhythm. Hecriticizes Apollonius of Athens 
for using verse rhythms, especially the 
anapestic, in prose passages, and desig- 
nates his verse and prose rhythms as, re- 
spectively, axdAacro. and awpovecrepor.*® 
Verse rhythms in a work of prose are a 
proof of license and unrestraint on the 
part of the author, while the rhythms 
proper to this kind of writing are less 
poetic and more sober. We should connect 
Philostratus’ choice of epithets with the 
perennial controversy over Attic versus 
Asian oratory, for the use of verse rhythms 
in prose was characteristic of the licen- 
tious Asian style rather than of the re- 
strained and cwdpwv Attic.“ Lucian is an- 
other writer of this era who connects 
sophrosyne with the style proper to prose, 
especially historiography. In his essay On 
the Way To Write History, he warns the 
historian to avoid the rhetorician’s de- 
vorns. His diction must, above all, be 
clear, and ornamentation unobtrusive. 
Although a touch of poetry is permissible 
in scenes of great excitement, the writer 
must avoid the poetic frenzy and will do 

45 Vit. soph. 602 (Kayser, II, 104, ll. 17 ff.). The op- 
position of dxod\acia to sophrosyne, familiar throughout 
Greek ethical literature, is frequently carried over 
into the realm of style. Not only is déxoAacia the antith- 
esis of sophrosyne, but xéddrars is often its synonym. 
From the fundamental meaning of ‘“‘pruning’’ trees 
and shrubs, xoddfew easily came to signify ‘‘restraint,”’ 
“correction,” or ‘‘punishment’’; and this term, or its 
Latin equivalent, castigare, frequently appears with 
the meaning ‘‘to keep within bounds, to use a chaste 
or restrained style’’; see, e.g., Philostratus op. cit. 
505 (Kayser, II, 21, 1. 10) and 599 (Kayser, II, 102, ll. 
16-17), Ps.-Aristides (Spengel, II, 500, ll. 29 ff.), and 
Photius Bibl. 181 (Bekker, I, 126, 1. 15). Synesius 
(Dio, Migne, Patr. Gr., LX VI, 1124A), using the same 
metaphor as Philostratus, praises the restrained 
(xexodacpévas) rhythms of Dio Chrysostom and finds 
them suitable for one who played the role of cwépon- 
orns (for castigare see Horace Ars poet. 294 and Quin- 
tilian x. 1. 115). Castigata in connection with literature 
in the Renaissance meant ‘‘revised, corrected, 
emended,”’ and from the seventeenth century the verb 
“to castigate’’ was used in English with the meaning 
“to correct or emend’’ (see NED, s.vv. ‘‘castigate,”’ 
“castigation,’’ etc.). 

46 See Cicero Or. 69. 230 and Norden, op. cit., I, 
134-36; cf. also Cicero Or. 8. 27 and 17. 57 on the 
Asian practice of chanting speeches. For the relation 
of sophrosyne to the Attic style see below, pp. 8—10. 

8 HELEN F. Nortu 

well to restrain himself (owpovnréov).*” 
Lucian further advises the historian to 
curb his enthusiasm for descriptive pas- 
sages—the unrestrained éxdpacis which 
is the trade-mark of the Second Sophistic. 
Let him use moderation (again owpovn- 
véov) in portraying mountains, walls, and 
rivers, lest he make a display of word- 
painting at the expense of history.*® 
Sophrosyne also had a place in poetry, 
according to the Emperor Julian, who in 
Oration vii discusses the composition of 
hymns. As the style must suit the subject, 
Julian requires that, when we compose 
hymns on sacred subjects, the diction 
must be cwdpwv, adn, and entirely appro- 
priate to the gods.‘ Julian does not de- 
fine his terms; but cwdpwy seems to mean 
not so much “restrained” or ‘‘moderate”’ 
as morally pure and decorous, for the Em- 
peror adds that the diction must contain 
nothing unseemly or blasphemous. All 
must be solemn (ceuva), magnificent, god- 
like, and pure. Sophrosyne, then, affects 
the choice of words, not their rhythm or 
arrangement. A like correlation between 
the style and the nature of the subject is 
the principal requirement in the frag- 
ment of a Neo-Platonic rpodewpia, ascribed 
to the Life of Isidore by Damascius.*° As 
TO ceuvov, TO GHppov, TO cages, aNd 7d ap- 
xatov were characteristic of the philosopher 
Isidore, it is fitting that the same qualities 
distinguish the style of his biography.” 
Here, too, the author fails to explain the 
precise meaning of 7d c&dpor. 
Thus far the examples cited have shown 
the concept of sophrosyne rather loosely 
47 De hist. conser. 45. 58 (Jacobitz, II, 24). 
48 Jbid. 57. 65 (Jacobitz, Il, 28). Cf. Milton (Fam. 
Ep. 23 (Columbia ed., XII, 95]) on the historian’s need 
of temperance to say much in little. 
49 Or, vii. 218 C. 
i See A. Brinkmann, Rh. Mus., LXV (1910), 616- 
51 Tbid., p. 618, ll. 5-7; ef. also p. 624. Hermogenes 
Ilepi ideay 6 (Spengel, II, 289, 1. 19) also says that 
ceurorns should characterize the style in which 
sophrosyne is discussed. 

applied to the criticism of style and its 
elements—figures, rhythms, arrangement, 
choice of words, metaphors, and descrip- 
tive passages. In such cases sophrosyne 
carries the familiar connotation of ‘‘mod- 
eration,” “restraint,” or ‘‘propriety.”’ The 
ancient critics were also familiar with a 
more specific application of the idea, 
through which sophrosyne came to be re- 
garded as a characteristic of one particular 
style—the Attic as opposed to the Asian. 
The most significant passage in which this 
distinction occurs is in the Introduction 
to Dionysius’ treatise On the Ancient 
Orators, where the ancient and philosophic 
Attic rhetoric is compared to a free and 
awppwy wife, while the new Asian style, 
which has supplanted it, is like an adpwy 
hetaira.®** The ancient and native Attic 
Muse has been dishonored by her own 
people, while the barbarian from Mysia, 
Phrygia, and Caria holds sway over the 
cities of Greece, having expelled the other, 
the ignorant driving out the wise and the 
mad banishing the sane (77v owdpova).”* 
The metaphor unmistakably implies that 
Dionysius regarded the ancient Attic 
style as swdpwy (‘“restrained,’’ ‘“‘modest,” 
‘“‘sane’’), and the implication becomes ex- 
plicit in the following lines, wherein 
Dionysius says that in his own time the 
apxaia kal cappwv pnropixn has regained its 
rightful honor.*4 The credit for this re- 
vival of older and better standards he 
gives to the cultured Romans, whose in- 
fluence elevated and purified the taste of 
the decadent Greeks. The interest felt by 

52 1 (Usener-Radermacher, I, 4. 7 ff.). 

53 1 (Usener-Radermacher, I, 4. 11 ff.). 

542 (Usener-Radermacher, I, 5. 1-2). Cf. Roberts 
(Introduction to Demetrius on Style (Cambridge, 
1902], p. 46): ‘‘It was, above all, in the want of the 
Attic sense of measure and fitness that Asianism de- 
clared itself.’ See also Quintilian viii. praef. 7 on the 
Asian want of iudicium ac modus. The Attic style was 
also called the dy:awoton Movon (Eunapius, Vit. 
soph., p. 494, ll. 26-27 (Boissonade]). For a discussion 
of the characteristics of the Asian style (many of them 
incompatible with the spirit of sophrosyne) see Norden, 
op. cit., I, 131-49, 263-68, 367-91. 


educated Romans in the conflict between 
the Attic and the Asian styles is well 
known to us, particularly through Cicero’s 
references to the subject in Brutus and the 
Orator, and it is from Latin, rather than 
from Greek, criticism that we have the 
most abundant proof that the idea of 
sophrosyne was connected with the Attic 
style.*> Sana eloquentia was equivalent to 
the Attic style even down to the time of 
Symmachus,** and when Cicero speaks of 
the salubritas Atticae dictionis et quasi 
sanitas,*” it is natural to suppose that he, 
like Dionysius, saw in the true Attic style 
an expression of sophrosyne. 

As we know from Brutus and the Orator, 
however, Cicero had scant patience with 
the one-sided Atticism of Calvus, Brutus, 
and their school, who confined themselves 
rigidly to the plain style, rejecting all em- 
bellishment and taking as their model 
Lysias, Hyperides, or even Thucydides. 
The most immediate results of this policy 

55 Although the scope of this paper does not permit 
a thorough examination of the many Latin terms in 
which the concepts of ‘‘restraint’’ and ‘‘moderation”’ 
are applied to literary criticism, we may note that 
Cicero, Quintilian, Seneca, Tacitus, and Gellius, 
among others, often employ Latin equivalents of 
sophrosyne to describe not only the Attic style but also 
the Rhodian style, certain aspects of the plain style, 
the middle style, the style appropriate to philosophy, 
and the Stoic type of oratory. E.g., Cicero, who was 
the first to classify the Rhodian style as midway be- 
tween the Attic and the Asian, describes the Rhodians 
a8 saniores, ‘‘more restrained,’’ than the Asians (Brut. 
13. 51; ef. Quint. xii. 10. 18). Cicero specifies that the 
practitioner of the plain style be verecundus in the use 
of embellishment (Or. 24. 79 and 81). For a modern 
parallel see the statement of George Norlin that 
Isocrates is more ‘‘continent” than Gorgias in the use 
of alliteration and assonance (Loeb ed. of Isocrates, 
I, xiv). The style appropriate to philosophy is, accord- 
ing to Cicero, an aequabile et temperatum orationis 
venus (De off. i. 1. 3) and may be compared to a casta, 
terecunda virgo incorrupta (Or. 19. 64). According to 
Seneca, it is moderata, temperanda, modestior, and 
pressa, non audazx (Ep. 40. 8 and 14). In Gellius (vi. 14. 
10) Rutilius and Polybius are quoted as terming the 
speech of Diogenes the Stoic before the Senate in 
155 B.c. modesta et sobria. For the connection of the 
word tem peratus as applied to the middle style with the 
concept of sophrosyne see below, pp. 10-11. 

*6See Norden, op. cit., II, 643. 

‘. 7 Brut. 13. 51; ef. also 82. 284; Or. 26. 90; Op. yen. 
. 8. 

were meagerness, dryness, and poverty of 
style ;°* but even in the time of Cicero the 
Latin imitators of Thucydides had begun 
to affect that deliberate archaism®® which 
later became one of the most striking char- 
acteristics of the Atticist movement.® 
This tendency was even more pronounced 
among the Greeks, and so it is that Greek 
critics invented the term “hyperattic,”’ 
whose chief function was to describe the 
excessive use of archaism. In Latin rhet- 
oric the Atticist style was sometimes iden- 
tified with the plain style," but the Greeks 
commonly associated hyperatticism with 
a style closer to the grand in its departure 
from ordinary diction and from the mean. 
For example, in the Life of Demonax by 
Lucian, the adverb izepatruds describes 
the use of archaic and unusual terms,® 
while in Lexiphanes the same author ac- 
cuses the Sophist of wishing to be ‘‘hyper- 
attic’’ and of finishing off his speech in the 
most archaistic way possible.** Philos- 
tratus in the Life of Apollonius describes 
that philosopher’s style as neither, on the 
one hand, dithyrambic and on fire with 
poetic words nor, on the other, full of rare, 
farfetched, and hyperattic terms® and 
adds that Apollonius considered unpleas- 
ant that which was beyond due measure 
Atticist. Synesius, too, diagnosed the ex- 
travagant use of strange, archaic Attic 
88 Brut, 82. 285; 84. 289. 

59 Tbid. 83. 288; cf. also Or. 9. 30-31. 

60 For the connection between archaism and Atti- 
cism see Norden, op. cit., I, 151-52, 258-63, 357-67. 
Latin archaism reached its peak with Fronto (see ibid., 
I, 362 ff.; and M. D. Brock, Studies in Fronto and His 
Age (Cambridge, 1911], pp. 25-35). 

61 Cicero Or. 9. 28-29; 23. 75-76; cf. also Em- 
porius De Ethopoeia (Halm, Rhetores Latini minores, p. 
561, 1. 7), where the plain, the middle, and the grand 
characters of style are matched with the Attic, the 
Rhodian, and the Asian schools. The exact equation 
of the three styles and three schools was a postclassical 
development. Cicero held that the true Attic orator 
should be a master of every appropriate style (see 
Brut. 82. 284—84. 291). 

62 26. 385 (Jacobitz, II, 201). 

63 25. 349 (Jacobitz, IT, 181). 

644. 17. 21 (Kayser, I, 17, ll. 32 ff.). 

10 HELEN F. Nortu 

words as one cause of an overgrown and 
swollen style and described the opposite 
kind of diction as 76 c&dpov.™ In the time 
of Photius the word “‘hyperattic’’ signi- 
fied an excessively unnatural diction, 
compounded of obsolete, poetic, and meta- 
phorical terms.® Three authors win praise 
in the Bibliotheca for avoiding the fault of 
hyperatticism.*’ Diodorus Siculus, who 
neither sought hyperatticism and archaic 
modes of expression nor descended entire- 
ly to the level of ordinary speech, is said 
to rejoice in the péoos xapaxrnp. Herodian 
is commended in similar terms for avoid- 
ing, on the one hand, hyperatticism and 
unnatural language and, on the other, 
utter meanness and disregard for the 
rules of art; the result in his case is called 
a cwppwv deks. In the ninth century, there- 
fore, sophrosyne in diction coincided with 
the middle style; cw@pwy déeks and péoos 
xapax7np are clearly synonymous. Yet they 
are not the same as the middle style in 
orthodox Hellenistic criticism, which lay 
midway between the grand and the plain 
styles, all three being praiseworthy when 
used according to the dictates of 76 mpe- 
mov. The péoos xapaxtnp Or owopwv déeéts 
of Photius, like all the moral virtues and 
the single stylistic virtue of Aristotle, lies 
in the mean between vices of excess and 
defect, between too careful adherence to 
the archaic Attic dialect and complete 
neglect thereof. 

The relation of the concept of sophro- 
syne to the doctrine of the three char- 
acters of style is somewhat obscure, be- 
cause it was never defined by the ancients. 

65 De insomniis (Migne, Patr. Gr., LX VI, 1308 C). 
Note that sophrosyne, formerly a characteristic of the 
Attic style, is now the antithesis of the hyperattic. 

66 See Emil Orth, Die Stilkritik des Photios (Leip- 
zig, 1929), p. 101, for evidence of the Byzantine lean- 
ing toward the Atticist style and of Photius’ interest 
in the problem. 

6? Heraclian (Bibl. 85 (Bekker, I, 65, 1. 1]), Diodo- 
rus Siculus (70 (Bekker, I, 35, ll. 8—9]), and Herodian 
(99 (Bekker, I, 85, 1. 38]). 

68 Cicero Or. 21. 70 ff.; 28. 100; 29. 101. 

Although certain aspects of the plain style 
recall the Greek idea of moderation and 
restraint, the Greeks themselves did not 
use the word ow@pwyv in a technical sense as 
a synonym for icxvés or \i76s; nor do we 
ever find it used in classical times as the 
equivalent of the middle style, the pécos 
xapaxrnp. The general feeling seems to be 
that recorded by Gellius in his adaptation 
of Varro. After discussing the Greek and 
Latin terminology and traditional exem- 
plars of the three styles, Gellius points out 
that each style is more brilliant when em- 
bellished chastely and modestly (cum 
caste pudiceque ornatur).®® Sophrosyne, we 
may conclude, should accompany the use 
of each style; it does not belong exclusive- 
ly to any one of them. 

Yet there is a special connection be- 
tween sophrosyne and the middle style, 
less evident in Greek than in Latin, where 
it is partly the result of terminology. In 
the earliest Latin allusion to the three 
stylistic characters, the Auctor ad Heren- 
nium calls the middle style mediocris” 
(Greek péoos), and in De oratore Cicero, 
too, uses this terminology (medium, iii. 45. 
177; mediocritas, iii. 52. 199; mediocris, iii. 
55. 212). But in the Orator he introduces 
a different idea, that of mixture or tem- 
pering, and calls the middle style medius et 
quasi temperatus (6. 21) and later oratio 
modica ac temperata (27. 95; cf. also 16. 
53; 28. 98; 29. 100, 101). There is every 
reason to suppose that in such passages 
Cicero does not mean by temperatus 
‘“‘moderate, sober, restrained,” as he often 
does in his philosophical treatises,” but 
that here he reverts to the primary signifi- 
cance of temperare, “‘to mix, mingle, or 
temper.”’ Thus he must conceive of the 
middle style not just as a mean, equidis- 
tant from two extremes, but as a mixture 

69 vi. 14. 11. 
wiv. 8. 11. 
1 E.g., De div. i. 51. 115; De off. i. 1. 3. 


er wa 


of the other two styles.” This is the view 
of Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who uses 
such terms as xepavview (“to mix’’) and 
eixparos (“‘well-blended’’) to describe both 
the middle character of style’? and the 
middle type of composition.”4 There is no 
doubt that the Ciceronian temperare is the 
equivalent of various Greek words denot- 
ing ‘“‘mixture,”’’® yet Greek-speaking Ro- 

72 This concept of the middle style is not new in 
Orator (see De orat. iii. 52. 199). It is unnecessary to 
describe at length the two chief theories about the 
origin of the three characters of style, particularly the 
wéoos xapaxrnp (see Hendrickson, AJP, XXV [1904], 
132-42 and XXVI [1905], 249-90; Stroux, op. cit., 
pp. 104-8, 119; Kroll, Rh. Mus., LXII [1907], 86-91, 
and his ed. of Cicero’s Orator (Berlin, 1913], pp. 71 ff.; 
and RE, Suppl. VII, 1074-75; A. Ké6rte, Hermes, 
LXIV [1928], 80-87; and S. F. Bonner, Class. Phil., 
XXIIT [1938], 261-63). But it is perhaps worth noting 
that the account given by Hendrickson and accepted 
by Stroux appears to suggest that Dionysius of 
Halicarnassus was the first to conceive of the middle 
style aS @ yexr) AéEcs (See Hendrickson, AJP, XXV, 
139, n. 1, on the phrase yixr} Aééis, Which ‘‘represents 
Dionysius’ conception of the middle style.’’ According 
to this view, Theophrastus, commonly regarded as the 
inventor of the theory of the three characters of style, 
presumably called the middle style a yeodrns and 
meant by it, not a style that combined the elements of 
the other two, but one that lay midway between 
faulty extremes and avoided both; see also p. 145 on 
Dionysius’ ‘‘unique interpretation of the xapaxrip 
péoos’’). Yet certainly Cicero was familiar with this 
idea, and indeed it would be strange if so obvious a 
notion had occurred to no one between Theophrastus 
and Dionysius. That Cicero was not the only Roman 
author who regarded the middle style as a yixrd déées 
is evident from the passage in Gellius which, on the 
authority of Varro, refers to Nestor as using the 
miztum moderatumque Style (vi. 14. 7) and describes 
the mediocris or medius style as in confinio utriusque 
modi particeps (vi. 14. 3). 

73 De Demosth. 3 (Usener-Radermacher, I, 132. 16). 

™ De comp. 24 (Usener-Radermacher, II, 1, 120. 

1% Roberts (Dionysius of Halicarnassus on Literary 
Composition (London, 1910], p. 301) gives temperatum 
as the Latin equivalent of etxparos, as does Kroll, 
Orator (Berlin, 1913), p. 33; ef. p. 73 on Cicero’s coin- 
age of the word temperator to describe one who blends 
all three styles. See also De orat. ii. 53. 212, where 
Cicero recommends a mixture of ethos and pathos and 
calls the resulting style temperata, and cf. Or. 57, 196. 
For the relationship of xepdvyvut and temperare see, in 
addition to Ernout-Meillet, Dictionnaire étymologique 
de la langue latine (Paris, 1932), s.v. ‘‘temperare,”’ Leo 
Spitzer, ‘Classical and Christian Ideas of World 
Harmony,” Traditio, III (1945), 318-22. For xepdv- 
“ma =temperari, see Edouard des Places, ‘‘L’Equiva- 
lence, Kerannymai-Temperari,’’ Revue de philologie, 
XVI (1942), 143-45, which also brings out the connec- 
tion between the idea of mixture and of temperance or 
sophrosyne in Plato's Seventh Epistle. 

mans may well have connected temperatus 
with the idea of sophrosyne in spite of its 
true origin. Not only was there a powerful 
motive for confusion in the accident that 
temperantia, a derivative of temperare, be- 
came, thanks to Cicero, a favorite trans- 
lation of the noun sophrosyne, but it was 
natural to regard the middle style as mod- 
erate, restrained, and free from excess, and 
this notion was, of course, implicit in the 
concept of sophrosyne.”° 

In one instance the Greek verb cwd¢po- 
vifew approximates the primary meaning 
of temperare, either as an independent de- 
velopment or just possibly under the in- 
fluence of the Latin verb in this situa- 
tion.”?7 In classical Greek the regular sig- 
nificance of cwdpovitey is “to chasten, 
bring to one’s senses”’ ;7 but Dionysius, in 
a passage already cited, gives it a meaning 
closer to that of xepavvieww or temperare. He 
describes the style of Isocrates as temper- 
ing grandeur with simplicity (ceuvdrnra 
owppovitwr rorntt).79 It is altogether 
probable that we have here an allusion to 
Dionysius’ concept of the middle style as a 
mixture of the grand and the plain. We 
know that he regards Isocrates as a prac- 
titioner of the middle style who, for emo- 
tional effect, borrows the ceuvorns and 
peyadorpéereca of Gorgias and Thucydides 
but for didactic purposes the simple and 
unadorned style of Lysias,*° and we have 
many passages in which he treats ceuvdrns 

76 Note that in the Loeb translation of Orator, 

temperatus in this sense is rendered indifferently as 
‘“‘moderate”’ (16. 53) or ‘“‘tempered’’ (29. 100). 

77 For a rare example of the influence of Latin 
usage upon the meaning of a Greek word see Richard 
Heinze, ‘‘Fides,’"’ Hermes, LXIV (1929), 163, n. 1, and 
165. I owe this reference to Professor Friedrich 

78 E.g., Plato Gorg. 478 D; Euripides Troad. 350; 
Xenophon Cyrop. viii. 6. 16. The secondary sig- 
nificance of temperare, ‘‘to regulate, rule, moderate, 
bring to order,’’ coincides with the ordinary meaning 
Of awopoviterv. 

79 De imit. 31 (Usener-Radermacher, II, 1, 212. 6). 

80 De Demosth. 4 (Usener-Radermacher, I, 134. 18— 
135. 18). 

12 Heten F. Nortu 

as a characteristic of the grand style and 
hrérns Of the plain.*' Here, then Diony- 
sius describes the process by which the 
middle style is produced and uses sw¢po- 
vitev precisely as Cicero used temperare. 
The usage did not gain currency,® how- 
ever; nor did the Greeks themselves 
habitually regard sophrosyne as more char- 
acteristic of the middle style than of the 
plain or the grand. , 
More significant for our understanding 
of ancient theories of the art of poetry and 
composition in general is the appearance 
of sophrosyne in the Greco-Roman feud 
between the wine-drinking poets and their 
water-drinking rivals, a feud which in- 
volves as well the ancient belief in the 
divine origin of the poet’s song,** the tra- 
ditional comparison of poetic inspiration 
to madness** and drunkenness,* and the 

81 See Paul Geigenmueller, Quaestiones Dionysianae 
de vocabulis artis criticae (Leipzig, 1908), pp. 54, 56. 

8 But Plutarch (Quomodo adolescens poetas audire 
debeat 15 E) seems to combine the ideas of ‘‘chasten- 
ing’’ and ‘‘tempering”’ in the word owdpovif{ev. 

83 On the subject of poetic inspiration see Wilhelm 
Kroll, Studien zur Verstdndnis der rémischen Literatur 
(Stuttgart, 1924), pp. 24-43; Hans Lewy, ‘‘Sobria 
ebrietas: Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der antiken 
Mystik,"’ Zeitschrift fir die neutestamentliche Wissen- 
schaft, [IX (1929), 45-54; Fritz Wehrli, ‘‘Der erhabene 
und der schlichte Stil in der poetisch-rhetorischen 
Theorie der Antike,"’ Phyllobolia fiir Peter von der 
Mihll (Basel, 1946), pp. 9-17; and Erwin Rohde, 
Psyche (Tiibingen and Leipzig, 1903), II, 56 ff. Both 
the Apolline and the Dionysiac religions encouraged 
the Greeks to believe that the bard was filled with a 
divine afflatus, and the terms used to describe the 
poetic inspiration often contained the idea of en- 
thusiasm. Next to é@ove.dtew itself (Plato Phaedr 
241 E; Jon 533 E; Democritus [Diels] 68 B 18; Ps.- 
Longinus De sudl. 8. 1) the most transparent are 
Baxxela (De subl. 32. 7; Ion 534 A), oiBddrAnrros (De 
subl. 16. 2), xopyvBayriaéy (ibid. 5.1; Ion. 534 A), and 
vuppodrnrros (Phaedr. 238 D). 

8 Plato Phaedr. 245 A; Aristotle Poetics 1455 a 33; 
Plutarch Quaest. conviv. 622 D; Lucian De hist. conser. 
5. 7 (Jacobitz, II, 3); Cicero De orat. ii. 46. 194; Horace 
Ep.i. 19. 3; Sat. ii. 3. 322 and 7. 117; Ars poet. 295- 
97, 455; Seneca De trang. 17. 9-11. The frenzy of the 
poet is a commonplace in English literature from A 
Midsummer-Night’s Dream to A. E. Housman, On the 
Name and Nature of Poetry. 

85 This comparison was particularly apt, not only 
because Dionysus was the traditional patron of poets 
but also because it was believed that divine influence 
could be acquired by eating or drinking a sacred sub- 

perennial controversy over the respective 
merits of natural endowment and tech- 
nical skill in the writing of poetry. Al- 
though in most periods of history men of 
sense have concluded that the poet re- 
quires both dios and réxvn, there was in 
the Hellenistic age a tendency in some 
quarters to overrate réxvn at the expense 
of other qualities. The Alexandrine em- 
phasis upon learning, imitation, labor, and 
flawless adherence to rule* provoked to 
opposition certain later poets of the 
Greco-Roman period, including Anti- 
pater of Thessalonica, Antigonus, and 
Nicaenetus, who, in violent reaction 
against the pedantry of Callimachus and 
his followers, engaged in a literary feud 
with the poets of réxvn. Modeling them- 
selves upon the supposedly bibulous Ar- 
chilochus and Cratinus,*’ they recalled the 

stance, and, as the Pythia drank from a sacred spring 
and the bard of Apollo imbibed inspiration from the 
waters of Hippocrene, so, too, the wine of Dionysus 
became a source of inspiration, first for dithyrambic 
poets, then for poets of every kind. In the beginning, 
wine was thought of merely as the tool of Dionysus 
and was celebrated as such (see Archilochus, Frag. 77 
{Diehl]), but gradually it achieved a degree of de- 
tachment and sometimes stood alone as an inde- 
pendent source of inspiration (e.g., Anth. Gr., xi. 20; 
xiii. 29). This topic is to be distinguished from the 
comparison of an emotional, frenzied style of composi- 
tion to drunkenness, which is found in the literary 
criticism of every age. We need seek no special ex- 
planation for many metaphors drawn by the ancients 
from the state of intoxication. E.g., Philostratus Vit. 
soph. 522 (Kayser, II, 35, 1. 19) describes as 16 pebiew 
mept ras H5ovas & Style overloaded with ornament, 
while Ps.-Longinus De subl. 3. 5 treats unnecessary 
display of emotion as the result of a kind of yéy and 
Aristides Or. 1. 406 (Dindorf, II, 552, 1. 12) says that 
certain Sophists seem to edie epi rods dédyous. 
According to Cicero, an orator who seeks only to in- 
flame his audience seems to furere apud sanos et quasi 
inter sobrios bacchari vinulentus (Or. 28. 99). Seneca 
criticizes the affected style of Maecenas as ebrius sermo 
(Ep. 19. 9; ef. Ep. 114. 4 and 22). 7rd vagew and so- 
brietas describe the opposite style, that which is calm, 
unimpassioned, and free from excess of any kind. See, 
for vide: Xenophon Symp. 8. 21; De subl. 34. 4; for 
sobrius: Cicero Or. 28. 99; Gellius vii. 14. 10. 

86 See Kroll, Studien, pp. 37-39. 

8? Archilochus was famous in antiquity as a wine- 
drinking poet, and the Greco-Roman school of oivo- 
réra. looked to him as to their prototype (see Anth. 
Gr. xi. 20). Callimachus refers to Archilochus as 
ueOurdné (Frag. 223 [Schneider]). For the tradition 

an on ae a oe a ak a Ge (a ce, es ee ccs stk 

aocondwadmia=asw=aza st wees |S FA 

ss Pee yo OB 

: = 



traditional patronage of Dionysus and ac- 
claimed him as their leader but chose to 
lay particular emphasis upon his gift of 
wine, which they sometimes treated as the 
chief source of poetic inspiration.** Hence 
the rival groups were labeled ‘‘wine-drink- 

ers’ and ‘“water-drinkers,’’ and most of 

the evidence for their ancient controversy 
occurs in epigrams launched by the oivo- 
rorac against the vdporora. The impor- 
tance of the affair to the present study lies 
in the relationship of sophrosyne to the 
writings of the téporérar. Hans Lewy in 
his study of Philonian mysticism, Sobria 
ebrietas, brings together most of the evi- 
dence for the dispute, including the pas- 
sages which use in this connection the 
word swdpwv; but he fails to note a point of 

about Cratinus see Aristophanes Peace 700-703; 
Knights 526-36; Frogs 357; Anth. Gr. xiii. 29; 
Horace Ep. i. 19. 1-8; and Meineke, Frag. com., 
I, 47 and II, 1, 116-17, 119. Callimachus and his fol- 
lowers were facetiously described as mxpoi xai Enpol 
(Anth. Gr. xi. 322) and accused of drinking dcrédv 
iéwp from the sacred spring, i.e., Hippocrene or Aganip- 
pe (Anth. Gr. xi. 20), a charge which lends support 
to the view that the feud between wine-drinking and 
water-drinking poets was at least in part a rivalry be- 
tween the poets of Dionysus and Apollo. On the 
inspiration derived from the sacred springs, see 
Martin Ninck, ‘‘Die Bedeutung des Wassers im Kult 
und Leben der Alten,’’ Philol., Suppl., Vol. XIV, 
Part II (1921), pp. 90-93, and Kroll, Studien, p. 29, 
n. 14, 

88§See Anth. Gr. ix. 186 and 406; xi. 20; xiii. 29. 
On the subject of inspiration from wine see Lewy, op. 
cit., pp. 46, 50-54; and A. P. McKinlay, ‘‘Wine and 
Literary Inspiration,’”” PAPA, LXIII (1932), Ixxix. 
See also McKinlay, Class. Jour., XLII (1946-47), 165. 
To ancient critics, Homer and Ennius, the epic poets, 
were subject to the influence of Dionysus no less than 
were the lyric poets (Anth. Gr. xi. 20; Horace Ep. i. 
19. 6-7); but Milton held that, while convivial cheer 
was permissible for lyric poets, the epic poet should 
drink sober draughts of pure water (Elegy VI, ll. 53- 
62). This view seems to have no classical authority 
but is part of Milton's general concept of the temper- 
ate life (see Walter MacKellar, The Latin Poems of 
John Milton [New Haven, 1930], p. 230). For later 
tributes to the quickening power of wine see, e.g., 
Milton, Elegy VI, Carmen amat Bacchum, Carmina 
Bacchus amat; and Hilaire Belloc, ‘‘Heroic Poem in 
Praise of Wine,”’ which contains the traditional legend 
about the coming of Dionysus out of Asia and praises 
wine as ‘‘true begetter of all arts that be."’ Faithful to 
tradition, Belloc even attacks the water-drinkers: 

“The horde Debased, accursed I say, abhorrent and 

considerable significance, the appearance 
of owppwyr in later criticism with a connota- 
tion exactly opposite to that employed by 
Plato in Phaedrus. 

Apart from the Greek Anthology, echoes 
of the feud are heard chiefly in the 
Treatise on the Sublime, the Epistles and 
Satires of Horace, and the pseudo-Lu- 
cianic Encomium of Demosthenes. Horace, 
in Ep. i. 19. 1-9, indicates that drunken- 
ness and insanity are synonymous meta- 
phors used to describe the effect of poetic 
inspiration; and the equivalence of the 
two ideas is brought out with great clarity 
in an epigram by Antigonus, a contempo- 
rary of Horace and a poet of the wine- 
drinking persuasion. What is more to the 
point, his verses also remind us that 
sophrosyne, which could mean both “san- 
ity” and “sobriety,” was normally op- 
posed to each of these two popular con- 

cepts of poetic inspiration—madness and 

intoxication. Taunting the poets who fail 
to seek inspiration from Dionysus, Antig- 
onus says: ‘“‘Alas for the water-drinkers. 
They are mad, but with a temperate mad- 
ness (uavinv cwdpova pavopevor).’’8® The 
oxymoron pavia cwppwy, though unfamiliar 
in the classical period, is found occasion- 
ally thereafter in a wide variety of con- 
texts. Its origin is uncertain, but the 
phrase probably owes something to vari- 
ous expressions signifying sober or ‘‘wine- 
less” intoxication which were employed 
by Greek writers to describe the ecstasy of 
Dionysiac worshipers and religious mys- 
tics.°° The implications of the phrase, 
89 Anth. Gr. ix. 406. 

*°On such expressions as dowos péOn, Baxxor rod 
vide, and the Philonian pén vndadcos and 6ela pen 
see Lewy, op. cit., pp. 1-107. There is some classical 
precedent for the idea of yavia c&¢pwv, but no parallel 
is really close. Euripides’ much-quoted siédpwv e& 
Baxxeipaow (Bacchae 317-18) refers to the power of a 
chaste woman to preserve her virtue even among 
Dionysiac revels, and the idea is purely ethical. In the 
postclassical period pavia c&ppwv or its equivalent ap- 
pears in several contexts unrelated to literary criti- 
cism. On the strength of Terence Eunuchus 61f., 
Lewy conjectures that the phrase was used by 

14 HE LEN F. Nortu 

whether favorable or the opposite, hinge 
upon the attitude of the writer. The force 
of Antigonus’ epigram obviously depends 
to a great extent upon the twofold conno- 
tation of cadpwv, which describes both the 
pavia and the ddporocia of the poets in 
question. By using a word which means at 
once ‘‘sober”’ and “‘sane’’ Antigonus im- 
plies not only that the dédpordra abstain 
from wine but also that they are un- 
touched by the frenzy of true poetic en- 
thusiasm. He says, in effect: ‘The water- 
drinkers are mad, but their inspiration is 
feeble, scarcely deserving to be called 
madness. They do not drink wine, and 
thus they forfeit the help of Bacchus.” 
Antigonus uses the term pavia cappwr con- 
temptuously, rejecting the notion that 
sophrosyne and true poetic inspiration are 
compatible. He feels precisely as did the 
Platonic Socrates when in Phaedrus he 
drew an unfavorable contrast between the 
poetry of the cw@pwy and that of the mad- 
man. According to Socrates, the only 
source of true poetic inspiration is Oeia 
pavia—madness that comes, not from hu- 
man weakness, but from divine influence. 
Directly opposed to this divine madness 
is sophrosyne, a merely human quality,*! 
the sober sense of the poet who works by 
rule, without enthusiasm. He who with- 
out pavia from the Muses comes to the 
door of poetry, believing that he can be- 
come a poet é réxvns, is unsuccessful, and 
the poetry of the cwpwv is far inferior to 
that of the madman.” In these terms 
Plato expresses once again his familiar be- 

Menander. To the examples cited by Lewy, op. cit., 
p. 52, n. 2, and p.-137, add Eunapius, Vit. soph., p. 
469, 1. 2 (Boissonade), owdpdrws érOoverdoarv, and the 
Fragmentum Marcianum (Hercher) in Hermes, III 
(1869), 386. 32, péOnv peOvobeioa thy awppova. 

91 244 E. 

92245 A. Paul Friedliinder has detected in this 
passage an echo of Pindar Paean 7. 13 ff., which he 
suggests is ‘‘for us the earliest expression of this con- 
trast of genuine and uninspired poetry” (Class. Phil., 
XXXVI [1941], 52). 

lief in the irrational nature of song®* and 
also casts his vote with those who deny 
that technical skill, divorced from inspira- 
tion, can produce poetry. There is no ques- 
tion but that he conceives the cwdpwv poet 
to be the antithesis of the poet possessed 
by @eia wavia, nor is it possible to doubt 
that Antigonus three centuries later uses 
the word owpwv with the same derogatory 
connotation, although, owing to the con- 
temporary dispute over water and wine, 
he now makes capital out of the relation of 
sophrosyne to sobriety, whereas in Phae- 
drus the word alluded only to sanity. In 
the epigram of Antigonus, cwppwyr virtually 
contradicts yavia, and the Platonic antith- 
esis is maintained. 

Curiously enough, however, we also 
find the oxymoron pavia owdpwv used not as 
the opposite but as the equivalent of the 
Platonic Oeia pavia. Instead of being a 
contemptuous description of the feeble in- 
spiration of the water-drinkers, it is en- 
dowed with a more profound meaning and 
indicates poetic enthusiasm controlled by 
reason and thus subordinated to the rules 
of art. Just as in the mystic vocabulary of 
Philo yen vndddvos is synonymous with 
Geia wen, SO pavia cwppwv is substituted for 
the @eia pavia of Phaedrus. Like 6éia, 
owppwv specifies the kind of madness which 
the poet suffers, without in any way alter- 
ing the fact that he is indeed mad. Sophro- 
syne is no longer, as in Phaedrus, mere 
sanity, a state of mind useless to the poet, 
but rather the rational quality which dis- 
tinguishes the madness of divine inspira- 
tion from the madness of a sick mind. 

This interpretation appears in the En- 
comium of Demosthenes, which shows 
many traces of the influence of Plato’s 
Phaedrus and Symposium. No one but a 
Platonist would have endowed the com- 
monplace phrase, pavia cwhpwv, with this 
new content; yet to do so meant rejecting 

93 Cf. Apol. 22 C; Meno 99 D; Laws 719 C. 


Plato’s antithesis between séphrosyne and 
pavia, Ps.-Lucian praises Demosthenes for 
subjecting his natural genius to the disci- 
pline of study and practice. Stressing the 
need for yavia in poetry and for a certain 
divine afflatus even in prose, he hails pavia 
owppwr as the force which gives wings to 
the soul of the orator and enables him to 
contemplate Beauty Absolute.** In this 
passage pavia swhpwy describes not the 
style itself but the way of life adopted by 
Demosthenes, who rejected the sensual 
pursuits open to young Athenians and 
preferred the Heavenly Eros—philosophy 
—to the Pandemian Aphrodite. Yet it was 
precisely this life of self-discipline (com- 
prising philosophical studies, rhetorical 
training, and endless practice) which pro- 
duced the oratorical eminence of Demos- 
thenes; and their connection is under- 
lined in the subsequent listing of the ora- 
tor’s praiseworthy qualities, wherein ow- 
dpwyv Bios immediately precedes ddyou det- 
vorns.*® Moreover, Demosthenes is shown 
to have possessed sophrosyne not only in 
life but also in the style of his oratory. 
Among the acquired excellences listed by 
Ps.-Lucian we find that, as a result of his 
disciplined life, Demosthenes became bril- 
liantly elevated and forceful, as well as 
owpovéoraros in his control over words and 
ideas.% This estimate reveals the effect of 
havia coppwy upon Demosthenes’ oratory. 
It produced a corresponding pavia cwppwv 
in his style, for the grandeur and intensity 
of Demosthenes are but another name for 
uavia, while his perfect mastery over style 
and content is explicitly labeled sophro- 
syne. The passage is notable not only be- 
cause it stresses the effect of a man’s life 
upon his art but even more because it as- 
sumes that force and intensity, the su- 
preme virtues of the grand style, are not 
“5, 494 (Jacobitz, IIT, 363). 

18. 504 (Jacobitz, III, 370). 
614. 501 (Jacobitz, IIT, 369). 

only compatible with stylistic sophrosyne 
but, indeed, inseparable from it.®” 

The basic idea of the Encomium—that 
Demosthenes owed his greatness to the 
training afforded him by philosophy and 
rhetoric at least as much as to native en- 
dowment or any irrational element—is 
further illustrated by an allusion to the 
controversy over wine as the source of in- 
spiration. Demosthenes is contrasted with 
Aeschylus, who brought heat and passion 
to his tragedies by writing while drunk. 
The orator, however, owed nothing to 
uéOn. He was a water-drinker, and it was 
the midnight oil that lent perfection to 
his speeches. * 

Lewy’ has drawn attention to a strik- 
ingly similar line of thought which runs 
through the Treatise on the Sublime. Just 
as Plato recognized the superiority of 
poetry inspired by pavia, so Ps.-Longinus 
insists on the need for some element of 
ecstasy, of yuxaywyia, in the sublime 
style.'* But he differs from the poets of 
pure inspiration (represented in Greco- 
Roman times by the oivoréra:) in that he 

97 As the Encomium follows with great fidelity the 
traditional topics of epideictic, we should, as a matter 
of course, expect the author to attribute to Demos- 
thenes sophrosyne and all the other virtues. Hence it 
is unnecessary to conclude from this conventional 
treatment of the subject that Ps.-Lucian or the Greeks 
in general believed that a continent and sober ado- 
lescence necessarily led to oratorical supremacy. It is, 
however, significant that the cddpwr Blos here desig- 
nates a life spent in study and practice, for what Ps.- 
Lucian wishes to emphasize is the need for réxvy and 
uedérn, aS well as ¢giais, that is, sophrosyne as well as 

$8 The olvoréra: found support in a contemporary 
fashion in biography, which sought to find flaws in 
the heroes of the past. A favorite theme was the 
drunkenness of the great poets, among whom Homer, 
Archilochus, Anacreon, Alcaeus, and particularly 
Aeschylus were reputed to be ¢:Aorérat. For ancient 
references to the ebrietas Aeschyli see the Ritschl- 
Schoell edition of Aeschylus’ Septem (Leipzig, 1875), 
pp. 14-16. The tradition seems to have arisen in the 
Peripatos (cf. Wilamowitz, Sappho und Simonides 
(Berlin, 1913], p. 111). 

9915. 502 (Jacobitz, III, 369); cf. Demosthenes 
Philipp. ii. 30. 

100 Op. cit., pp. 53-54. 
101 K.g., 8. 1 and 4; 12. 4; 16. 2; 34. 4. 

16 HELEN F. NortTH 

insists also on the need for technical skill, 
the ability to regulate nature by art.’ 
Taking Demosthenes as the supreme ex- 
ample of oratorical genius, he compares 
his inspiration to the ecstasy of the Pythi- 
an oracle and the frenzy of the Bacchants 
but shows that even the most sublime in- 
spiration must always be guided and con- 
trolled by the element of vods. This prin- 
ciple Ps.-Longinus embodies in the phrase 
& Baxxebpacr vndev (“to be sober amid 
the revels’’),!°? an exact parallel to the 
phrase by which Ps.-Lucian describes the 
life and training of Demosthenes—yavia 
cwppwr. That the quality of vis alone is 
quite as inadequate as uncontrolled pas- 
sion Ps.-Longinus makes clear in his criti- 
cism of Hyperides, whose utterances, he 
says, are wanting in elevation and are 
the idle remarks of a man sober at 
heart (xapdin vppovros).!°* This observation 
would win acceptance anywhere, but the 
arresting element in both treatises is the 
insistence that the specific quality for 
which Demosthenes was noted through- 
out antiquity—his dewvorns—'™ was due 
to technical ability as well as to native 
genius and that Demosthenes could not 
have attained sublimity without his power 
of moderation, his sophrosyne. This view 
corrects the erroneous assumption of An- 
tigonus and his school that a restrained or 
cwdpwv style is necessarily feeble and spir- 

102 See esp. 2. 2-3. 

103 16. 4. Cf. Euripides Bacchae 317-18. This 
phrase need not be taken as an allusion to the contro- 
versy over wine and water. The metaphor is a natural 
result of the comparison between the states of poetic 
inspiration and drunkenness. Later parallels to this 
passage are numerous. Rhys Roberts (Longinus on the 
Sublime (Cambridge, 1935], p. 25, n. 2) calls attention 
to Hamlet's advice to the players (Act III, scene 2, 
ll. 6-10): ‘‘for in the very torrent, and, as I may say, 
the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget 
a temperance that may give it smoothness,"’ while 
Lewy (op. cit., p. 49, n. 1) quotes Shaftesbury's de- 
scription of the true poetic enthusiasm as ‘‘reasonable 

104 34. 4. 
pass Ludwig Voit, AEINOTH® (Leipzig, 1934), pp. 41- 

itless, a view as mistaken as its counter- 
part in ethics, the perennial misconcep- 
tion of sophrosyne and moderation as the 
virtues of the weak.’ Antiphon the Soph- 
ist held that no one can become cwdpwr 
without having to conquer his passions;!° 
and Plato insisted that sophrosyne is 
achieved only by long practice in the mas- 
tery of pleasure and desire.'* So, too, in 
the caPpwv style there must be passion, 
there must be yavia, as well as the power 
to control it; only from the union of Dio- 
nysus and Apollo is great literature born. 

Properly understood, pavia cwppwr gov- 
erns not only style but the whole process 
of poetic composition. Innumerable crit- 
ics, both ancient and modern, have dis- 
covered that the poetry of inspiration, 
which is the expression of profound emo- 
tion, requires not merely emotion but also 
its control. To take but one example, the 
first of Ruskin’s criteria by which to judge 
poetry is ‘‘absolute command over all pas- 
sion, however intense’!%—in a word, 
sophrosyne. The relevance of such a doc- 
trine to prose, especially oratorical prose, 
and the eternal usefulness of the ancient 
exempla are evident in Paul Shorey’s trib- 
ute to this same power of command over 
passion. Comparing Lincoln to Demos- 
thenes, Shorey says: 

He affords the best modern illustration of 
the prevailing seriousness of the Demosthenic 
logic, suffused with, but not overmastered by 
emotion And he resembles Demosthenes 
also in the incomparable effectiveness of the 
sudden flashes of passionate eloquence intro- 
duced at just the apt place, and confined to the 
right measure. 

1066 E.g., Callicles in Gorgias 492 A ff. 

107 B 59 (Diels). 108 Laws 647 D. 

109 Albert S. Cook, Touchstones of Poetry (1887), 
p. 13. 

110 Quarterly Journal of Speech Education, VIII 
(1922), 112. See also p. 113 on ‘‘the miracle of Lin- 
coin's Greek sense of measure.’ Charles Lamb (‘‘The 
Sanity of True Genius,’’ Works (London, 1875], pp. 
159-60) says that the true poet is not merely ‘‘pos- 
sessed by his subject, but has dominion over it.”” In 


To sum up the results of this investiga- 
tion, we have found that references to the 
quality of sophrosyne in literary style, as 
distinguished from the morality of a 
speech and the ethical or intellectual en- 
dowments of a speaker, appear only after 
the close of the classical period and then 
rather infrequently. In earlier literature 
only rarely is the possession of sophrosyne 
by an author regarded as affecting his 
work in a way that is not purely ethical. 
The possibility of a nonmoral effect is first 
clearly seen in Plato’s Phaedrus, which at- 
tributes a lack of true poetic inspiration to 
the fact that the poetis cwppwv, sane rather 
than mad. In postclassical times, when the 
concept of sophrosyne has stylistic implica- 
tions, we sometimes find that it is still the 
author who is credited with this quality. 
His sophrosyne enables him to restrain the 
impulse to employ inappropriate meta- 
phors, licentious rhythms, or undue archa- 
ism. Often, however, it is the speech itself 
which is described as cwppwv. Seldom do we 
find the noun sophrosyne in this connec- 
tion. If a substantive is required, 1d c&pov 
is preferred, but in most cases the adjec- 

spite of his madness, he has a “hidden sanity which 
still guides him in the widest seeming aberrations.’’ 
Coleridge (Biographia literaria (London, 1906], p. 196) 
traces meter in poetry to ‘“‘the spontaneous effort 
which strives to hold in check the workings of pas- 

sion,” and refers to ‘“‘emotion.... tempered and 
mastered by the will.’’ J. W. Bray (A History of Eng- 
lish Critical Terms (Boston, 1898], p. 340) observes 
that “‘the general conception of temperance is con- 
nected ... . with energy, power, and strength of style 
in a composition. The requirement is that this power 
in some way be restrained. If the restraint is external- 
ly imposed, as it were, .. . . from custom and prece- 
dent, then temperance looks toward the proprieties. 
If the restraint is in a sense self-imposed, then temper- 
ance becomes dignity and grandeur.’’ For a modern 
use, not merely of the general concept of temperance, 
but even of the ancient ethical terminology, see 
William Everett (Harvard Studies in Classical Phil- 
ology, XII [1901], 9, 16), who contrasts Catullus and 
Horace as literary artists and finds the one éxédaoros, 
the other cddpwy and éyxparis. 

tive cwdpwy is applied to such words as 
doyos, A€Ets, OF pPnropixn. Sometimes the 
verbs owopovety and owdpovifew appear, 
usually with reference to the author rather 
than to the speech or poem. Antonyms 
employed in criticism reflect the varied 
significance of the word cwdpwy in Greek 
ethics. They include akddacros, a&dpwr, 
kodos, and pavduevos. Although the word 
cappwr was used by Dionysius of Hali- 
carnassus to distinguish the Attic from the 
Asian type of oratory, ancient criticism in 
general recognized no one style as owdpwr. 
The term served to describe almost any 
component of literary style (rhythm, 
choice of words, arrangement, metaphor, 
and so on) which was used with modera- 
tion, good taste, and avoidance of excess. 
In the terminology of Nietzsche, we may 
say that sophrosyne is the Apolline ele- 
ment in literature and music, as Plutarch 
noted when -he spoke of the paean as 
cwppwy in contrast to the emotional Bac- 
chic dithyramb. Only in the last group of 
references considered did we find a more 
thoughtful analysis of the concept of 
sophrosyne. Here it was involved in the 
controversy over inspiration versus tech- 
nical skill and was therefore bound to pen- 
etrate deeply into the whole problem of 
composition. In this discussion sophrosyne 
tended to represent the rational, nonen- 
thusiastic element in composition and was 
therefore discounted by some ancient 
critics. A truer understanding of the na- 
ture of the grand style led to the realiza- 
tion that sophrosyne is the indispensable 
power of control over poetic enthusiasm 
and is therefore just as essential to great 
literature as is inspiration itself. 

Rosary CoLLeGE 
River Forest, ILuINoIs 



O ANYONE who has made a consist- 

ent study of the text, together with 

the apparatus criticus, of a particu- 
lar author, the vagaries and the preju- 
dices of emendators and editors are often 
puzzling and curious. Emendations, inser- 
tions, and deletions appear with much 
frequency but not always with much 
justification. Accordingly, before these 
varied suggestions can come in for con- 
sideration, they must be regarded with a 
frank and ready skepticism. In many 
cases an honest investigation into the rea- 
sons for this state of affairs elicits no other 
explanation than the scholar’s perverse- 
ness, fatigue, predilection for some manu- 
script or scholar, failure to understand the 
passage in question, or ignorance of the 
usage of the author. 

However, there is another factor which 
should concern us when we consider the 
text of an author critically. While our 
goal is obviously to determine the words 
of the author himself, we must not delude 
ourselves as to the degree or the certainty 
of attaining this goal. We can do little 
more in many instances than try to reach 
back farther and farther to the readings of 
manuscripts antecedent to our extant ones 
and consequently closer in point of time 
and form to the archetype; and sometimes 
in so doing we may happily strike upon 
the author’s precise words. Egotists that 
we are, we often not merely “improve” 
upon the text but even “improve”’ upon 
the author. 

It would repay us in this connection to 
observe a few passages from the Epistulae 
morales of Seneca,' where the transmitted 
text is, in my opinion, perfectly sound and 

1 The text cited throughout will be that of Otto 
Hense’s second edition (Leipzig: Teubner, 1914). 

{Cuassican Pattotoey, XLIII, Janvary, 1948} 

where uncalled-for changes have been in- 

Ep. 17. 6: quod aliud erat illius patientiae 
praemium quam in arbitrium non cadere 
victoris? quanto hic maius quod promittitur: 
perpetua libertas, nullius nec hominis nec dei 

The hic, read by Hense and Beltrami? 
for hoc of the manuscripts, is no doubt in- 
tended to serve the purpose of pointing 
out the contrast between the reward of 
those who have bravely sustained hunger 
in sieges (“in arbitrium non cadere vic- 
toris’’) and the greater one of those who 
pursue the study of philosophy in spite of 
poverty and need (“‘perpetua libertas,” 
etc.). The emendation hic has the august 
authority of Madvig.’ And yet there is no 
reason at all for changing hoc, which ex- 
presses this meaning adequately (cf., fur- 
ther, Ep. 68. 8: “maius malum est hoc, 
quod non possum tibi ostendere: in pec- 
tore ipso collectio et vomica est’”’). 

Ep. 23. 10: non potest autem stare paratus 
ad mortem, qui modo incipit vivere. id agen- 
dum est ut satis vixerimus. nemo hoc putat 
qui orditur cum maxime vitam. 

Axelson‘ has suggested praestat for 
putat. This may be an improvement on the 
text but is no less, in my opinion, an im- 
provement on Seneca. The Latin verb 
frequently embodies implications which in 
translation need expansion and elabora- 
tion. In this context the expression ‘‘nemo 
hoe putat”’ is essentially little different in 

2 Achille Beltrami’s first edition was published as 
follows: Vol. I (Brescia: Apollonia, 1916); Vol. II 
(Bologna: Zanichelli, 1927). His second edition was 

published in Rome (Typis regiae officinae poly- 
graphicae, 1931). 

3 Adv. crit., II (Hauniae: I. H. Schultz, 1873), 468. 

‘Bertil Axelson, Neue Senecastudien (Lund: 
C. W. K. Gleerup, 1939), pp. 41 f. 



significance from “nemo hoc se putare 
praestat’’ (‘“No one shows that this is the 
way he thinks’’). Axelson himself admits 
of the phrase: ‘“Sinnlos ist das wohl 
nicht”; as for his belief “dass hier 
schliesslich doch etwas in Unordnung ist,” 
let him recall his own statements as to the 
nature of Seneca’s not rarely careless 

Ep. 26. 8: desinere iam volebam et manus 
spectabat ad clausulam: sed conficienda sunt 
sacra et huic epistulae viaticum dandum est. 

Doubt has been cast upon the correct- 
ness of sacra, for which aera has been sug- 
gested. The case for aera, first proposed 
by Madvig,® and accepted by Hess’ and 
by Beltrami, has been resumed by Axel- 
son,® who declares that Seneca would 
never regard the payment of his debt to 
Lucilius as a sacred rite. But Madvig’s 
aera is insipid, and aera conficere does not 
convey the idea of “paying up one’s 
debts.”” Surely Seneca could speak in hu- 
morous wise of his established practice of 
closing his letters with a quotation as a 
“ritual”? (sacra) and in fact uses sollemni 
munusculo in a similar context in Ep. 
22. 13. 

Ep. 47. 5: alius sputa deterget, alius reliqui- 
as temulentorum <toro) subditus colligit. 

Rossbach® suggested the possibility 
that toro was lost after temulentorum, and 
with him Hense (2d ed.) and Beltrami 
have agreed. Summers!’ makes no addi- 
tion in his text but suggests that possibly 
mensae is to be supplied in thought with 
subditus. Whether it is toro or mensae that 
one supplies or understands is an indiffer- 

5 See esp. ibid., pp. 19-22. 

© Op. cit., II, 472. 

7G. Hess, L. Annaei Senecae ad Lucilium epis- 
tulae morales selectae (Gotha: Perthes, 1890). Rudolf 
Miicke, however, in his revision of Hess (Gotha: 
Leopold Klotz, 1929) resumes the reading of sacra. 

8 Op. cit., p. 141, n. 9. 

*Otto Rossbach, in his review of Hense’s first 
edition, Berl. philol. Wcehnschr., XIX (1899), 651. 

‘0 Walter C. Summers, Select Letters of Seneca 
(London: Macmillan & Co., Ltd., 1910). 

ent matter. That any word is needed is 
doubtful. The participle subditus is middle 
in force (cf., e.g., Ep. 57. 4, constitutus; 
87. 4, inpositus sum; 94. 70, proiectus; 
Dial. vi. 26. 3, prohibitus; xii. 18. 4, cir- 
cumfusus; xii. 20. 2, circumfust; Ben. i. 
10. 1, mota; Clem. i. 3. 3, obiecti circum- 
fusique; i. 3. 5, circumdata; etc.), and 
means something like “having got down 
(on his knees).’’"!! 

Ep. 47. 8: cum his [i.e., servis] cenare non 
sustinet [sc. dominus] et maiestatis suae 
deminutionem putat ad eandem mensam 

cum servo suo accedere. di melius! quot ex 
istis dominos habet! 

The manuscript reading, habent, was al- 
tered by Haase to habet, which succeeding 
editors have adopted. Alexander”? is of the 
opinion that habent really conceals the 
form habebit. 

The sense required may be paraphrased 
thus: ‘“How many cases there are in which 
the social status of the slave and of the 
master have been reversed, so that the 
masters find themselves subject to those 
who were formerly slaves.’’ And that is 
what the manuscripts show: “quot ex 
istis [i.e., servis] dominos habent [sc. 
domini].”” I am inclined to suppose that 
editors agree with this meaning but that 
they have been disturbed by the shift 
from the specific singular to the generaliz- 
ing plural; yet in the light of more recent 
investigations'® of the linguistic peculiari- 
ties of Senecan style there should be no 
hesitation in retaining the plural form. 

11 W. H. Alexander (‘‘Seneca’s Epistulae morales: 
The Text Emended and Explained [I-LXV],"’ Univ. 
of California Pub. in Class. Philol., XII, No. 5 
(1940], 78) likewise expresses the view, though with- 
out further explanation, that nothing is required to 
supplement the reading of the manuscripts and 
translates ‘‘crouched.”’ 

12 Ibid., pp. 78 f. 

1%3Cf. Joh. Miiller, “Kritische Studien zu den 
kleineren Schriften des Philosophen Senecas,”’ 
Sitzungsber. Akad. Wiss. Wien, CXVIII (1889), 4 f.; 
Emil Hermes, app. crit. to Dial. i. 2. 7; Paul Thomas, 
Morceauzr choisis (8th ed.; Paris: Hachette, 1918), 
‘‘Remarques,’’ No. 77, p. 28; A. Bourgery, Sénéque 
prosateur (Paris: Société d’édition ‘‘Les belles lettres,”’ 
1922), pp. 308 ff. 


The future is not required here either; 
habent is the universalizing present tense. 

Ep. 59. 15: [§14] iam docebo, quemad- 
modum intellegas te non esse sapientem. 
sapiens ille plenus est gaudio, hilaris et placi- 
dus, inconcussus..... nune ipse te consule 

...ista, quae sic petis tamquam datura 
laetitiam ac voluptatem, causae dolorum 
sunt. [§ 15] omnes, inquam, illi tendunt ad 
gaudium, sed unde stabile magnumque con- 
sequantur, ignorant: ille ex conviviis et 
luxuria, ille 

Axelson has recently suggested '4 that 
we read illo with Cod. p; editors read alli 
with the other manuscripts. The illo 
would be redundant, according to Axel- 
son, pointing ahead to the phrase ad 
gaudium. This redundancy would not be 
impossible in itself, but it serves no pur- 
pose here and is awkward. And, actually, 
illi, by qualifying omnes and by resuming 
the generalizing tu of the preceding clauses 
(for everyone must admit that Seneca is 
addressing the general reader and not 
Lucilius alone), marks a required contrast 
with sapiens. For the combination ille 
.... tlle (=hic.... ille) cf. Ep. 21. 2, 
36. 5, 47.9; Apoc. 15. 2; Dial. ii. 13. 3, vi. 
18. 8, x. 2. 4; Ben. iii. 24; NQ vii. 27. 3; 

Ep. 68. 14: Non est tamen quod existimes 
ullam aetatem aptiorem esse ad bonam men- 
tem quam quae se multis experimentis, longa 
ac frequenti rerum paenitentia edomutt. 

Haase and Hense'® have preferred to 

4 Op. cit., pp. 71f 

18 See, further, Thomas, op. cit., ‘‘Remarques,”’ 
No. 72, p. 28; Summers, op. cit., note on Ep. 21. 2, 
p. 187; Axelson, Senecastudien (Lund: Hakan Ohlsson, 
1933), pp. 98 f. and n. 34; Bourgery, op. cit., p. 381. 
L. Castiglioni, in his review of Axelson's Neue Seneca- 
studien (Gnomon, XVI [1940], 121) rejects Axelson’s illo, 
pointing out that ilii is admissible but that if it were 
not he would prefer simply to eliminate it. The author of 
the present article had likewise rejected illo, without 
discussion, in his review of Axelson (Class. Weekly, 
XXXIV [1940-41], 40). 

‘So also R. M. Gummere (‘‘Loeb Classical Li- 
brary’’ (London: Heinemann; New York: G. P. 

Putnam's Sons, 1917}); earlier editors read patientia 


read edomutt rather than domuit because 
of their predilection for Cod. p, which 
shows penitentiae domuit. Beltrami ac- 
cepts domuit of the other manuscripts 
(QVPb) on the ground that Seneca, 
‘“poetarum more,” prefers to use the 
simple rather than the compound verb."” 
I must agree with Beltrami in his 
choice. There are stronger grounds, how- 
ever, for supporting domuit than the one 
which he presents. The fact is that Seneca 
nowhere uses edomo,'® whereas he shows 
great fondness for domo (cf., e.g., Ep. 
66. 44, 83. 22, 85. 41, 89. 18; Dial. iv. 15. 2, 
v. 22. 5, ix. 9. 2; NQ ii. 59. 4, iii praef. 10, 
iv. 13. 7, and very frequently in his trag- 
edies). We should also bear in mind the 
fact that Cod. p, in spite of its high merit, 
shows more mechanical, more careless, 
errors than any of the other manuscripts 
—errors often serious and unexplainable." 
Ep. 76. 16: nam cum sola ratio perficiat 
hominem, sola ratio perfecta beatum facit. 

Axelson*® expresses the opinion that 
perfecta weakens the emphasis of the repe- 
tition of sola ratio—sola ratio and would 
therefore read Gruter’s perfecte, compar- 
ing the phrases perfecte beatum and per- 
fecte beata (vita) of Ep. 85. 19. The point 
that Axelson makes is hardly valid, espe- 
cially since Latin style is very fond of the 
resumption of a verb in a participial form. 
The value of the citation of parallels for 
perfecte beatum is completely nullified by 
parallels for ratio perfecta. We have only 
to look at §10 in the same letter, where 
Seneca makes the same statement in 
slightly other words: “haec [i.e., ratio] 

17 With this view Jos. Albini concurs, in his review 
of Beltrami, Riv. di filol., XLV (1917), 126. The 
reeerence made by Hense, in dissenting from Bel- 
trami's view (Supplementum Quirinianum (Leipzig: 
Teubner, 1921], p. vii), to the edomitam of Cicero's 

De fato 5. 10 is not to the point and offers no evidence 
as to Seneca’s usage. 

18 Cf. Thesaurus, V, Part 2, Fasc. I, 110f. 
19 See Axelson, Neue Senecastudien, pp. 72-74. 

20 Ibid., p. 188. 

TexTuAL Notes ON SENECA 21 

recta et consummata felicitatem hominis 
implevit’’; and, similarly, in the same sec- 
tion: “homini autem suum bonum ratio 
est: si hanc perfecit, laudabilis est et finem 
naturae suae tetigit.’’' A closer verbal 
parallel is to be found in Ep. 92. 2: “sequi- 
tur ut de illo quoque conveniat, in hoe uno 
positam esse beatam vitam, ut in nobis 
ratio perfecta sit.’’ 

One should also note that Axelson 
points out that perfecte gives a much more 
satisfactory clausula (double cretic). But 
this fact in itself is not strong enough 
ground for abandoning an _ otherwise 
sound manuscript reading. The principle 
of the clausula rhythm is only an auxiliary 
tool, to be used judiciously in deciding in 
case of doubt and not to be invoked mere- 
ly on its own account. 

quia spiritus naturali prohi- 
bitus cursu et mutatus in peius vim suam, qua 
viget admonetque nos, perdit 

Alexander” suggests admonetque nos 

(sut). However, there is no need for as- 
suming that the spiritus must remind us of 
its own existence and that admonet re- 
quires an explicit (genitive) complement?? 
(cf. Ben. v. 25. 4: “[deos] vota non exo- 
rant, sed admonent”’; Ep. 46. 1: “sol me 
invitabat, fames admonebat, nubes mina- 
bantur’’; also, though with slightly differ- 
ent force, Ben. ii. 4. 2, 10. 4, 11. 2, v. 21. 2, 

Ep. 78. 3: in remedium cedunt honesta 
solacia, et quicquid animum erexit, etiam 
corpori prodest. studia mihi nostra saluti 
‘uerunt. philosophiae acceptum fero, quod 
surrexi, quod convalui; illi vitam debeo et 
nihil illi minus debeo. (§4) multum autem 
mihi contulerunt ad bonam valetudinem amici, 

*t Rudolf Helm, in his review of Axelson’s Neue 
Senecastudien (in Berl. philol. Wchnschr., LX [1940], 
258) similarly refers to § 10 in rejecting Axelson’s 

2 Op. cit., pp. 144f. 

*E. Philips Barker (Seneca’s Letters to Lucilius 
Translated (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1932]) ex- 
presses the idea adequately with his rendering, ‘‘con- 
veys suggestions to us.”’ 

quorum adhortationibus, vigiliis, sermonibus 

Beltrami (2d ed.) adopts Hense’s addi- 
tion of et before amici.24 The et (= etiam), 
Hense declares, is required after the 
strong emphasis placed on Seneca’s debt 
to studies and philosophy and to avoid the 
dactyl (vale)tudinem amict. 

Actually, however, the et is superfluous; 
its sense is already implicit in the autem at 
the opening of the sentence. As for the 
rhythmical grounds, one can object that 
our knowledge of the practice of the an- 
cients before a relative clause, or in fact 
before any dependent clause, is insuffi- 
cient and that in any case, although here 
too our knowledge is not secure, we can 
scan without eliding -em, thereby obtain- 
ing a very satisfactory clausula (first 
paeon and spondee). 

Ep. 78. 17: necesse est, ut exsurgit (mor- 
bus), et desinat. 

The manuscripts read exsurgat (exur-, 
P); Hense, following Haase, emends to 
exsurgit. Jéhring”® rightly objects to the 
change; and Summers” and Barker,?’ as 
well as Beltrami, also retain the subjunc- 
tive. Jéhring apparently regards et as the 
co-ordinate conjunction, linking exsurgat 
and desinat (whereas parataxis is usual 
with necesse est),?8 whereas Summers and 
Barker construe ut exsurgat as a purpose 
clause dependent on desinat (with et = 

I agree with Summers and Barker that 
the subjunctive is to be retained and the 

24Zu Senecas Briefen,’’ Rh. Mus., LXXIV 

(1925), 123. 

2 Johannes Jéhring, ‘‘De particularum ut ne quin 
quominus apud Senecam philosophum vi atque usu,”’ 
Prager Studien, Heft 1 (1894), p. 27. 

%6 Op. cit., n. ad loc., p. 267. 

27 Op. cit., ‘‘Readings,”’ I, 324. 

28 Cf. Stolz-Schmalz', p. 763. Seneca does appear 
to have ut in NQ ii. 14. 2; very possibly, however, the 
ut is an intrusion and, in fact, it does not appear in 
manuscripts P and Z, which Gercke (app. crit. ad loc.) 
thinks perhaps show the right reading. 

22 Ben L. CHARNEY 

el to be interpreted as etiam. However, 
Summers and Barker appear to read into 
the Latin that a disease must grow better 
in order to grow worse (or before it grows 
worse). “It must have its intervals,” 
translates Summers, “‘to enable it to reach 
a climax.’’ And Barker renders: “‘. . . . [it] 
must ebb before each flood.” This view 
Summers bases on Ep. 78. 7; ‘‘as it [i.e., 
the disease] cannot always be at the cli- 
max [§7],’’ he continues, ‘‘the fact that at 
any given moment it is so implies that 
there has been an easier interval just be- 

”’ But Seneca is merely offering 
as a consolation the fact that in pain of the 
highest degree the intensity must come to 
an end and does not imply that in order to 
reach an end of pain one must seek its ex- 
treme intensity. 

In my view, the uf-clause should be 
treated as correlative with et desinat, and 
necesse est should be applied equally to 
exsurgat and to desinat, the sentence 
meaning: “ut exsurgat necesse est morbus, 
et desinat necesse est.’’ It appears that 
here we have a statement of proportion 
formally expressed in one limb only. 
Seneca is extremely fond of this formula: 
(1) omission of eo: Ep. 19. 11, 53. 7, 79. 13, 
85. 11, 123. 11, and many instances from 
the Dialogues and the Naturales quaes- 
tiones as well as the Tragedies; (2) omis- 
sion of tanto: Dial. i. 6. 5, NQ vii. 15. 1; 
(3) omission of tanto magis: Ep. 31. 4; and 
(4) omission of tta (sic): Ep. 81. 19, 84. 8, 
85. 36, 96. 3, 117. 17.2° On the statement 
of proportion expressed by ut.... et 
(= etiam), compare Ep. 95. 37: “ut illos 
in bonum pronos citius educit ad summa, 
et hos inbecilliores adiuvabit malisque 
opinionibus extrahet, qui illis philosophiae 
placita tradiderit.’’ Both here and in Ep. 
78. 17, the passage under discussion, et 

29 Here one might mention Ben. ii. 6. 1, where 

Haase (so, too, Hosius) unnecessarily adds an ita 
to balance sicut has been unnecessarily proposed 
fora... .&* 

Ep. 82. 14: mors honesta est per illud quod 
honestum est, id est virtus et animus ex- 
trema contemnens. 

Hense and Beltrami retain extrema of 
the principal manuscripts. Previously, 
editors had read externa with >; and this 
has recently received the support of Axel- 
son,*? who compares Ep. 74. 6, 82. 5; 
Dial. i. 6. 1, vii. 4. 2. 

One must admit that Seneca, both in 
the passages cited by Axelson and in a 
good many others, speaks of animus ez- 
terna contemnens. However, there is no 
need to assume that he is doing so here. 
That the difficulty has probably lain in 
the interpretation of extrema is shown by 
translators who follow that reading; thus 
Gummere translates “‘a soul that despises 
the worst hardships,” and Barker renders 
“a soul contemptuous of the world’s 
worst.”’ There can be little question, how- 

ever, that extrema is here equivalent to, 

mortem, just as in Ep. 18. 11, 54. 7, ete. 
That is exactly the point of Seneca’s com- 
parison in the passage immediately pre- 
ceding the one under discussion between 
the honorable death of Cato and the 
shameful one of Brutus; and that is just 
what Seneca goes on to discuss in §16 of 
the same letter (cf. also Ep. 4. 3f., 24.3 

Ep. 88. 17: nam quemadmodum scio omnia 
accidere posse, sic scio et non utique casura. 
utique secunda expecto, malis paratus sum. 

Axelson® proposes reading Schweig- 
haeuser’s itaque for the second wtique; 
Summers had previously suggested it as 

30 Madvig, op. cit., II, 500 and 489, respectively. 
In the case of Ep. 95. 37, Madvig’s suggestion was 
supported by J. Bartsche (‘Zur Kritik der Briefe 
Senecas,”” Rh. Mus., XXIV [1869], 281) and by E. 
Hermes (Quaestiones criticae in L. Annaet Senecae 
epistolarum moralium, Part II (Mé6rs: Spaarmann, 
1874], p. 24). 

31 Op. cit., p. 145. 

32 Tbid., p. 196. 

ee eee ee aS ae ee la 

TrexTuAL Notes ON SENECA 23 

possibly right,’* and Beltrami does al- 
ready read it in his second edition. One 
cannot disagree with them that ztaque pro- 
vides the exact transition and that it 
might have been displaced under the in- 
fluence of the preceding wtique. However, 
the asyndetic style is quite characteristic 
of Seneca; and the word-play,** in this 
case really a play on two different senses 
of utique,** is not so objectionable, how- 
ever feeble it may be, that we should be 
induced to improve on Seneca. We are 
concerned here with the question of decid- 
ing between the ultimate authority of the 
manuscripts when their reading is not al- 
together open to objection and what the 
ancient author might have or should have 
said. The only choice, in my view, is the 

Ep. 88. 30: verbis, rebus, adfectibus comem 
se facilemque omnibus praestat [humanitas]. 

Hense prints comem with ¢; but in his 
apparatus he says “fort. recte’’ of com- 
munem, the reading of the principal manu- 
scripts.** Beltrami reads communem with- 
out comment. Axelson*’ desires a return 
to comem on the ground that communem 
does not have the desired sense anywhere 
in Seneca. However, the statement is too 
dogmatic; comis appears to be used only 
in Dial. iv. 33. 6 (“benignus.... et 
comis adulescens’’) and Ben. vi. 29. 2 
(“sermo comis et... . iucundus’’), both 
without a dependent substantive of ref- 
erence. Axelson also finds parallels in 
Suet. Gramm. 7 (“‘comi facilique natura’’), 
Cie. Lael. 66 (‘“comitatemque facilita- 
temque’’), Ter. Heaut. 912, and Suet. 
Vesp. 22, pointing out that communis 
(communitas) has replaced comis (comitas) 

33 Op, cit.. p. 115 n. 

’4See Summers’ discussion of ‘‘word-play’’ in 
Seneca (op. cit., Introd., pp. Ixxxii-Ixxxvii). 

8 Respectively, ‘‘necessarily’’ and ‘‘at any rate.” 

© Castiglioni (see n. 15) indicates a hesitation to 
abandon communem for comem. 

7 Op. cit., p. 145. 

in the manuscripts of the last three. Yet 
these parallels have no significance in 
view of the generally accepted instances 
of communis = comis, benignus, etc., as, 
for example: Cic. Lael. 18. 65 (‘“sim- 
plicem praeterea et communem et con- 
sentientem, id est, qui rebus isdem 
moveatur, elegi par est’”’), Cic. Fam. iv. 9. 
2 (“communem .... in victoria”), Nep. 
Milt. 8. 4 (‘summa humanitas, mira com- 
munitas”), Nep. Ait. 3. 1 (“communis in- 
fimis, par principibus’’), and Suet. Claud. 
21. 5 (“nee ullo spectaculi genere com- 
munior aut remissior erat’’). The word 
takes on color from the context and in the 
passage under discussion is further ex- 
plained by the synonym facilem. 

Ep. 89. 15: quid enim prodest inter <se)> 
aestimata habere omnia, si sis in impetu 

The manuscripts show inter aestimata. 
There have been various emendations 
proposed: intus (for inter), vulg. and 
Landi;** in te, Buecheler and Hense (I); 
inter <se>, Gloeckner,*® Kronenberg,*° 
Hense (II), Beltrami, and Albini.*! How- 
ever, I am of the opinion that the reading 
of the manuscripts is correct; aestimata is 
neuter substantive and object of inter. 
The phrase inter aestimata habere omnia 
(literally, ‘to have all things among esti- 
mated things’’) is to be translated simply 
as “‘to have all things appraised.” Seneca 
is extremely fond of the combination of 
inter and the neuter plural adjective used 
substantively, as, for example, with the 
following: acerba (Ep. 66. 44), admiranda 
(Ep. 114. 12), adpetita (Ep. 95. 57), ad- 
versa (Ep. 41. 4), aliena (Ep. 98. 4), an- 
gusta (Ep. 78. 9), bona (Ep. 66. 12), cetera 

38 Carlo Landi, review of Beltrami (II), Atene e 
Roma, IX (new ser., 1928), 187. 

39 Feodor Gloeckner, Quaestiones Annaeanae (dis- 
sertation; Halis Saxonum, 1877), p. 13. 

40A,. J. Kronenberg, ‘‘Ad Senecae Epistulas 
morales,’’ Class. Quart., I (1907), 208. 

41 Jos. Albini, review of Beltrami (II), Riv. di filol., 
LVI (1928), 542. 


(Ep. 79. 8, 113. 16; Clem. i. 13. 2), divina 
(Ep. 66. 12, 71. 16), externa (Ep. 93. 7), 
foeda (Ep. 71. 36), humana (Ep. 115. 4), 
humilia (Ep. 74. 17), ignota (Ep. 102. 26), 
indifferentia (Ep. 82. 10), inrita (Ep. 113. 
1), magna (Ep. 119. 16), maxima (Ben. vi. 
23. 7), missa (Ep. 95. 57), opposita (Ep. 
92. 17), peritura (Ep. 91. 12), placidissima 
(Ep. 91. 7), praecipitia (Ep. 108. 24), 
reliqua (Ep. 99. 4, 119. 15), subtecta (Ep. 
74. 17), suspecta (Ep. 74. 5), tristia (Ep. 
66. 44), tuta (Ep. 97. 15), ultima (Ben. vi. 
23. 4), vicina (Ep. 43. 2). 

Ep. 89. 20: quo usque fines possessionum 
propagabitis? ager uni domino, qui populum 
cepit, angustus est. quo usque arationes vestras 
porrigetis, ne provinciarum quidem spatio 
contenti cireumscribere praediorum modum? 

Krasmus is responsible for arationes 
vestras, read by editors. Something, how- 
ever, is to be said for Albini’s defense of 
the reading of the manuscripts, arationi- 
bus vestris; he would understand either 
praedia or preferably agrum with por- 
rigetis.*? Perhaps praediorum modum may 
be supplied with porrigetis as well as with 

Ep. 101. 2: iam Senecio divitiis imminebat. 

Axelson‘* proposes eminebat on the 
ground that amminere is an uncomplimen- 
tary word, which Seneca would not have 
used of his intimate friend. And yet there 
is no reason to assume that Seneca neces- 
sarily used imminere in an unfavorable 
sense (cf., e.g., Ben. iii. 3. 4: “caduca 
memoria est futuro imminentium”’; Ben. 
vii. 14. 6: “huic uni [negotio] imminens et 
operatus, ne qua se fugeret occasio”’; Dial. 
vii. 6. 1: “futurisque [voluptatibus] iam 
immineat animus’). In Ep. 15. 6 im- 
minere has more literal force but is like- 
wise not pejorative in effect: ‘neque ego 
te iubeo semper imminere libro aut pugil- 

42 Tbid., p. 543. 
43 Op. cit., pp. 206 f. 

Ep. 114. 21: inritant illos (sc. hominum 
oculos) et in se a<d)vertunt. 

The reading of the principal manu- 
scripts, avertunt, was accepted by the ear- 
liest editors and by Fickert, Summers, and 
Hense (ed. I). It should be retained, 
since there is no objection to saying ab 
ceteris rebus (implied in the sentence under 
discussion) in aliquid avertere (cf. Ben. vi. 
8. 1: “quomodo.... metus repentinus 
animum in aliam curam avertendo sus- 
pectas horas fefellit”’; similarly [with ad], 
Ep. 78. 18: “‘ad alias cogitationes avertere 
animum et a dolore discedere’’). 

Ep. 119. 10: hice ipse, quem cirea dicimus, 
quem tu vocas pauperem, habet aliquid et 

Madvig’s circumcidimus" for circa dici- 
mus has been adopted by Beltrami. How- 
ever, there is no need for correction. Apart 
from the frequent employment of anas- 
trophe with cum, we find it with other 
prepositions as well (cf., e.g., Hp. 32. 4: 
“thaec contra’’; 82. 7: ‘quam contra’’).” 
In this case the question of euphony and 
of balance with the succeeding quem may 
well have influenced the order. 

Ep. 123. 4: nam quod labor contraxit, 
quies tollit. 

This passage is mentioned to indicate 
a type of criticism which is all too common 
but quite uncalled for. Axelson** proposes 
reading solvit for tollit. He himself points 
to the objection to this procedure by going 
on to state that he leaves it in dispute 
whether his “Verbesserung” is an im- 
provement on the transmission or on the 
author himself. 



44 Op. cit., p. 511. 

45 For examples from the tragedies of Seneca, see 
Adolf Genius, De L. Annaei Senecae poetae tragici usu 
praepositionum (dissertion; Monasterii Guestfalorum: 
Althoff, 1893), pp. 50f. Genius gives two examples 
from the tragedies of anastrophic circa: Herc. f. 
720; Oed. 312. 

46 Op. cit., p. 155, n. 32. 

2s &, Be 

—_—- = 

a emwee fm —_«/1 SS esl 

a a ae ee a a ae ae 




The most diligent and believing student will not find one glance of the Theban eagle in West 
and his colleagues, who have attempted to clothe the bird with English plumage. Perhaps he 
is the most untranslatable of poets, and though he was capable of a grand national music, yet 
did not write sentences, which alone are conveyed without loss in another tongue.—PREFATORY 
Note To THOREAU’S TRANSLATIONS OF PinpDAR (Dial, IV [1844], 379). 

HE aim of this paper is not to damn 

unhappy translators but to draw 

attention to what makes Pindar’s 
poetry almost unique and almost untrans- 
latable—the metaphorical patterns of his 
odes. Let us first see what one of these 
patterns is like by making a fairly com- 
plete analysis of the First Pythian Ode. 
We shall then consider some English ver- 
sions of Pindar, from the seventeenth cen- 
tury to the twentieth, to see what happens 
in translation to the beautiful and artful 
patterns of the original poems. 

The First Pythian honors Hieron of 
Syracuse as founder of Aetna and his son 
Deinomenes, who is the king of the new 
city. In the course of the ode Pindar refers 
to Hieron’s recent victory over the Car- 
thaginians and Etruscans at Cyme and to 
Gelon’s victory over the Carthaginians at 
Himera in 480, Beginning with the ‘‘quiv- 
ering stroke” of xpuvcéa dopuryé, Pindar 
sings of the lyre’s effect on men, gods, and 
the enemies of Zeus, especially Typhon, 
who rests beneath Mount Aetna. After 
praying for the new city and its founder, 
he tells how Hieron won his victory at 
Cyme, though, like Philoctetes, he was 
suffering from disease. He soon turns to 
sing of Deinomenes and to pray that the 
new Dorian city may ever be peaceful. 
Next he recalls the battles of Cyme and 
Himera along with the victories at Plataea 
and Salamis, which he had also honored 
with songs. In closing, he urges Hieron to 

(Cuassicat, PuitoLocy, XLIII, Janvary, 1948] 

say and do the right thing if he wants to 
enjoy a fair reputation now and after his 

We may well wonder how the elements 
in this “eruption” can constitute any- 
thing like a unified work of art. Beyond 
the more obvious historical and mytholog- 
ical links, there must be some further 
mode of connection which makes us feel, 
as we certainly do, that the poem is a 
glowing imaginative whole. If we look 
closely at Pindar’s language, we shall find 
a connecting pattern which is essentially 
poetic and Pindaric and through which 
the ‘‘extreme and scatt’ring”’ elements of 
the ode are linked in lively relation. 

We first glimpse this pattern in a 
curious series of words which are closely 
related in meaning and etymology. Listen 
to them: |. 2, dxoter; 1. 26, dxodca; 1. 84, 
axoa; |. 90, axody; 1. 99, eb dxovew. (We 
should add to this group two other expres- 
sions: ll. 13-14, Body aitovra; and 1. 90, 
kbev). If a poet is concerned with what 
he talks about, Pindar seems to be con- 
cerned with “hearing.” As the individual 
contexts show, Pindar’s stress is on “‘what 
is heard” or on “‘sound,’’ though his ex- 
pressions never let us forget the active 
process of “hearing” and ‘“‘making sounds.” 
If we now read through the ode, we shall 
find a whole sequence of expressions for 
sounds or forms of utterance or closely 
related actions and things. There are at 
least thirty of them, from the dépuryé of 



the first line to the @épuryyes of the last 
epode. Similar echoing pairs are fairly 
common: |. 3, dodot and |. 94, dovdots; 
1. 38, evpavors; and |. 70, ciudwvov; |. 42, 
repiykwooo. and |. 86, yAdooar; 1. 60, 
iuvov and |. 79, tiuvov. Among these re- 
sounding words! we should note especially 
xedadjoa, Which means both “sing loud- 
ly’’ and “‘praise.”’ It is one of a consider- 
able group of expressions for ‘‘praise’’ and 
“glory”: 1. 31, xrevos; 1. 37, xAvrav; 1. 38, 
évupacrav; |. 43, aivioa; |. 66, Kdéos. 
Both xdvrav and évuyacrayv are closely con- 
nected with the “sound” series: the poet 
prays that Aetna may be 

. Urmous Te KNUTaY 
kai avy edpawvors Oadiars dvupagrar. 

(“glorious for crowns and horses, and 
famed for the music of her feasts’’). We 
feel a further link between ‘glory’? and 
“sounds heard” in the etymological con- 
nection of xdewds, kAvTav, and xdéos with 
xdtw. The joining of crowns with “glory”’ 
and ‘‘music”’ points to a minor chain of 
echoes, ‘flower and wreath’’: 1. 66, xdéos 
avOnoev; ll. 49, 50, Spéwer mdovrov areda- 
von’; 1. 89, ebavbe? dpya; 1. 100, credavor. 

From these rough groupings it is clear 
that the repetitions and echoes of sound 
and sense point to a large metaphorical 
structure in the poem. The central meta- 
phor in this pattern is Sound—the sound 
of harmonious music and the sound of 
glorious deeds. The theme is not simply 
music? or harmony.* Nor is it true, as 
Norwood? suggests, that the lyre symbol 
united ‘all these events, hopes, and 
prayers.’’ Though Norwood shows quite 
1 Most of them are quoted in the course of the 
essay. , 

: ‘Music’ is the title of the Wade-Gery and 
Bowra translation of the ode (cited below). 

3 See Basil L. Gildersleeve, Pindar: The Olympian 
and Pythian Odes (New York, 1885), notes to 
Pythia I, pp. 240—42. 

‘Gilbert Norwood, Pindar (Berkeley, 1945), p. 
102; for discussion of symbolism, see Lectures V, VI, 

beautifully the continuity of the Sound 
metaphor, he is here, as elsewhere in his 
book, too eager to ascribe a unifying 
power to a single ‘“‘visual object.”’ Music, 
as symbolized in the lyre, is only one of 
several forms of sound through which 
Pindar envisages and composes his diverse 
interests, from love of his art to concern 
for Hieron’s rule. 

In the opening section of the poem we 
hear the lyre with its quivering (édedi{o- 
péva) and rushing (f:ratot) and dart- 
like sounds (xjA\a). We are made to think 
also of yovouxn, the art of Apollo and the 
Muses (Aaroiéa codia Babuxddrwy te 
Mowdv). The more inclusive theme of 
Sound is introduced in the second line 
with dxove, and the “sound of glorious 
deeds” appears in the next line in éy\atas, 
which is at once “brightness” and “vic- 
tory” and the “songs of poets,” the 
aovdoi who are mentioned presently. So 
by the end of the first antistrophe we 
have almost all the elements which make 
up the harmony of the ode: the sound of 
the lyre, the sound of glorious deeds, and 
the poet’s song. 

In this opening section the complemen- 
tary “quiet” theme appears: there is the 
sleep of the eagle (ede) and the deep 
sleep of Ares (kaart). Musical sound, we 
feel, brings peace and harmonious order, 
an implication which is later expressed in 
the prayers for the success of the new city 
(ll. 35-38; 67-73): the feasts of Aetna are 
to be ei@wvors and the peace a_har- 
monious peace, cbhudwvov és hovxiav. 

But the Sound metaphor includes also 
inharmonious sound, which is associated 
with the enemies of Zeus and other dis- 
turbers of order. There is the “roar” 
(rarayw) of Typhon’s mountain, the “most 
dreadful streams he sends up, a marvel to 
hear” (axodoac). There is the barbaric cry, 
the adaXarés of the Etruscans, and their 
lament for their lost ships (vaveicrovor). 

oy; 3 

—_ ——_ « —_ a= & & 2s eae OS. eS 



Pindar contrasts with these ugly noises 
the sound of the glory of the kings who 
rule the cities of Sicily. Immediately after 
describing the mountain’s fearful roar, he 
mentions Aetna’s “glorious founder’ 
(kXewvds olxcorhp) and the herald’s cry 
which announces his victory. Pindar, the 
aovdos, sings of his desire to praise Hieron 
(aivfioat pevorwv), of his iuvov for the new 
king and of his tuvoy for the victory at 
Himera, and of his songs for the victories 
at Salamis and Plataea. 

The poet also keeps fresh the memory 
of less dramatic honors—the way of life of 
a good king. The last form of the Sound 
metaphor, the “sound of kingly reputa- 
tion,” appears in the closing section of the 
poem. The connection between the arts of 
the poet and the ruler is rather subtly sug- 
gested. Indeed, it is hard to know whether 
Pindar is talking to himself or to Hieron 
when he says: “If your utterance is just 
right, there is less blame..... ” The 
closeness of the two arts is further implied 
by a curious echo: “Forge your tongue on 
the anvil of truth,” he urges Hieron. The 
y\Gooay recalls the lines in which Pindar 
first speaks of his craft, when he tells of 
the gods who make men ‘“‘wise and strong 
and golden-tongued”’ (repiyhwoco). 

These closing lines are packed with 
wonderful resounding expressions—dxod, 
the sound of a reputation which citizens 
cannot bear to hear; dxody ddetay xdvew 
and ed axovev, the sweet sound of a wise 
ruler’s reputation; a’xnua ddfas, the boast- 
ful sound of good fame; éx@pa gars, the 
hateful talk which a tyrant hears; doudois, 
dopuryyes, the music of poets’ lyres; and 
raidwy daporot, the soft voices of singing 
youths. Back of the immediate references 
to Hieron and his rule rises the larger 
symphony of Sound, thanks to the reso- 
nances which many of these words have 
acquired in the earlier parts of the poem. 
The orépavov of the last line shows at once 

this growth of meaning and Pindar’s pe- 
culiar art. The crown is the lordly crown 
of wealth plucked like a flower (dpére 
tdovrov crepavwu’). It is also the flower 
of glory (kdéos av@ncev), the heard echo of 
great deeds. And, finally, the flower of 
glory is connected with the art of the 
ruler, who has just been told to rule 
ebavbel 5’ év d6pya mappevwv. 

The Pindaric pattern which we have 
been describing is twofold: first, the sets of 
verbal echoes® (exact repetitions, etymo- 
logical cognates, words parallel in mean- 
ing); and, second, the pattern of relations 
which make up the main metaphor. The 
various interests which excite Pindar—the 
power of music, the poet’s art, the glory of 
heroes, the order of a Dorian city, the fear 
of barbarian disorder—enter into com- 
bination as so many forms of Sound. But 
this second pattern depends directly on 
the first. Pindar connects music and glory 
and order and royal tact by his art in 
using the Greek language to make those 
curious chains of verbal echoes. We have 
seen how he takes advantage of the like- 
ness in forms and meanings of dxotw and 
its derivatives, of the etymological links 
between xdéos and xdiw, of the metaphors 
implicit in cipdwvros and evavOys. The 
Pindaric harmony is inseparable from the 
notes which compose it. 

If this is Pindar’s way, it is easy to see 
why he has been the despair of transla- 
tors. Cowley, who in 1656 published his 
“‘Pindarique Odes” expresses this despair 
and the impossibility of closely reproduc- 
ing Pindar’s language: “If a man should 
undertake to translate Pindar word for 
word, it would be thought that one Mad 

5 ““Echoes”’ is used here in the sense in which Bury 
uses the term: “For Pindar does not confine his 
‘responsions’ to verses metrically corresponding—and 
Metzger has to some extent recognized this—but indi- 
cates the train of his thoughts by verbal echoes any- 
where, independently of the metre’’ (J. B. Bury, The 
Nemean Odes of Pindar |[London, 1890], Introd., pp. xx— 


man had translated another.’’® His versions, 
as we might expect, are very free, but they 
do make us feel some of Cowley’s excite- 
ment in discovering the poetry of Pindar. 
Let us look at one of his translations, 
“The Second Olympique,” and see what 
happens to the metaphorical pattern of 
the original. Pindar’s Second Olympian, 
an ode to Theron of Agrigentum, has for 
its main metaphor the idea of alternation 
in human affairs, which is expressed most 
vividly in the figure of shifting streams. 
There is a more or less closely related 
theme of the “‘flower and shoot,”’ i.e., the 
stock of a noble race. Cowley’s version is 
happily not quite what we might expect 
from his headnote: “‘The Ode (according to 
the constant custom of the Poet) consists 
more in Digression, than in the main sub- 
ject.” “The main subject” does appear 
in Cowley’s poem, though in lines which 
give a rather sprightly version of the 
original metaphor: 
.... Fortunes favour and her Spight 
Rowl with alternative Waves like Day and 

But Pindar’s optimism, being far less 
simple, is infused with the sense of fated 
recurrence of evil and good. “Oblivion”’ 
does not destroy “the very trace of fore- 
gone Ills,” for woe sleeps on: @vacKe 
maniyxorov dayacbey. Characteristically, 
the adjective suggests by its etymology 
that the woe returns, that it is barely 
checked. What is the central metaphor for 
Pindar becomes, in fact, a “digression” 
for Cowley, and he does not include in the 
rest of his translation a single one of the 
five or six echoes of the main theme. Al- 
though his version of the famous passage 
on the afterlife is full of incidental, rather 
Spenserian, beauties, the ‘flowery bind- 
ings’ of Pindar’s &veua xpvood are com- 

‘Abraham Cowley, Poems, ed. A. R. Waller 
(Cambridge, 1905), p. 155 

7 Ibid., p. 157. 

pletely missing. This translation, like 
Cowley’s original “Pindariques,” leaves 
us with the feeling that for him Pindar’s 
poetry was indeed an “‘unnavigable Song.” 
Although in 1706 Congreve wrote nobly of 
Pindar’s “‘perpetual coherence” and “ge- 
cret connexion’’® of thought, poets and 
poetasters went on writing ‘‘Pindarick’’ 
odes in Cowley’s “impetuous Dithyram- 
bique”’ vein. 

It is interesting by way of contrast to 
read some translations published in 1749,° 
made by a man who was full of scorn for 
Cowley and his imitators and who had a 
considerable knowledge of the Greek lan- 
guage and antiquities, Gilbert West. 
Readers of his version of the First Pythian 
may not hear the voice of Pindar, but they 
will find some nice passages in the just 
classical vein of Gray’s “‘Elegy’’: 

Thus fresh, and fragrant, and immortal blooms 
The Virtue, Croesus, of thy gentle Mind. 

Him therefore nor in sweet Society 
The gen’rous Youth conversing ever name; 
Nor with the Harp’s delightful Melody 
Mingle his odious inharmonious Fame. 

As the last two lines suggest, West’s ver- 
sion conveys some sense of Pindar’s meta- 
phor, the “harmony divine’ of music. But 
closer comparison of West’s language with 
Pindar’s shows us why the total pattern of 
his poem is so un-Pindaric. Take, for ex- 
ample, a phrase which catches exactly the 
metaphor implied in the original, the 
translation of ociudwrov és ovxiay as 
“sweet Accord.” But when we turn to 
West’s translation of the parallel ei@wvois, 
we find only an eighteenth-century cliché, 
“heav’nly Lays,’’ and so Pindar’s ‘“Ac- 
cord” is lost. And if we note the context in 

8 ‘A Discourse on the Pindarique Ode,”’ The Works 

of Mr. William Congreve (3 vols.; London, 1710), III, 

® Gilbert West, Odes of Pindar . . . to Which is pre- 

GAMES (London, 1749). 

which “‘sweet Accord” occurs, we can see 
another reason why in West a happy 
phrase may have so little of Pindar’s 

And still in golden Chains of sweet Accord, 
And mutual Peace the friendly People bind. 

The musical metaphor is contained within 
another metaphor, which is merely occa- 
sional and ornamental. But Pindar’s met- 
aphor is functional; the sensuous beauty 
it evokes in passing contributes to the 
growing order of his poem. Almost no- 
where in West’s version can we find any 
equivalent for Pindar’s musical sequences 
of “hearings” and “soundings.”’ We miss 
most in West’s language what is most im- 
portant in Pindar, the particular, physical 
experience of hearing or making sounds; 
so we find for dxove, “attends”; for ed 
dxovev, “The soul-exalting Praise of 
doing well.’’ Pindar’s words do not let us 
forget that what he is connecting is like 
sensations or actions as well as like words, 
but West’s elegancies often conceal both 
kinds of pattern. As Dr. Johnson put it, 
“He is sometimes too paraphrastical.’’!° 
He strews his verses with phrases such as 
“sounding chords,” “heav’nly choir,” 
“the subtle pow’rs of Verse and Har- 
mony,” etc. Unlike Pindar’s less numer- 
ous, but more precise, echoes, they pro- 
duce no musical design, only a kind of 
rhetorical rumble. 

We are reminded of that “cumbrous 
splendor’ which so disgusted Johnson in 
the Pindaric odes of Gray. The Progress of 
Poesy (1757), Gray’s ‘First Pythian,” 
should be a constant reminder that to imi- 
tate Pindar is even more risky than to 
translate him; for, in spite of the “pomp 
of the poetical machinery,” the ode falls 
apart into a series of show passages which 
are connected mainly by chronology and 

10 Samuel Johnson, Lives of the English Poets, ed. 
G. B. Hill (3 vols.; Oxford, 1905), III, 33. 



Gray’s learned footnotes. Although Gray 
borrows Pindar’s musical metaphor, his 
language shows little Pindaric continuity ; 
there are few signs that, like Pindar, he 
felt the music in each of the experiences he 
so artfully describes. 

It is curious that a translation pub- 
lished in 1822 (by Abraham Moore)"! 
should show the most evil effects of eight- 
eenth-century poetic conventions, par- 
ticularly of that abstractness which elimi- 
nates the sensuous particulars from poet- 
ry. Too often in Moore’s version, per- 
sonification calleth unto personification. 
For example, the balance of daxoav adetav 
kde and ed dxovey comes out as: 

Fame’s dulcet voice,.... 

The goodliest gifts of Jove 
Fortune the first, Fame claims the second, 
The man whose grasp, whose filled embrace 
Both Fame and Fortune holds, life’s noblest 
crown has twined. 

Clearly, in translating Pindar, one paral- 
lel will not do so well as another. 

The nineteenth-century writer who it 
seems might have best shown English 
readers the harmony of Pindar was Tho- 
reau.!? Although he made a complete ver- 
sion of only one ode—the brief Fourteenth 
Olympian—Thoreau shows in this single 
translation that Pindar’s poetic order may 
emerge if a translator will “leave the poet 
alone.” One of the minor and beautiful 
symmetries in that poem is formed by the 
contrast between Arrapas "Epxopuevod, the 
home of the hero, and pedavrexéa Sduov 
epoeddvas, where the hero’s father now 
rests in death. Thoreau’s words bring out 

1! Reprinted in The Odes of Pindar, trans. Dawson 

W. Turner (‘‘Bohn’s Classical Library’’ (London, 

12 The Writings of Henry David Thoreau (‘‘Walden” 
ed. [20 vols.; Boston, 1906]), Vol. V: Excursions and 
Poems, ‘‘Translations from Pindar,’’ pp. 375-92. 


the full sharpness of this light and shadow. 

The strophe begins, 

O ye, who inhabit for your lot the seat of 

Streams, yielding fair steeds, renowned Graces 

Ruling bright Orchomenos, 

Protectors of the ancient race of Minyae, 

Hear, when I pray. 

This is matched in the antistrophe by 
Now to Persephone’s 

Black-walled house go, Echo, 

Bearing to his father the famous news. ... . 

The transcendental editors who pub- 
lished these translations might well be for- 
given their remarks about the attempts of 
‘“‘West and his colleagues.”’ 
Twentieth-century translators have at 
least one advantage over Thoreau and his 
contemporaries—the detailed knowledge 
of Pindar’s art which has been gathered 
by the scholar-critics of the last two gen- 
erations. They are fortunate, too, in writ- 
ing at a time when the language of Eng- 
lish poetry has been undergoing one of its 
major renewals. Two fairly recent transla- 
tions of the First Pythian, one by Wade- 
Gery and Bowra (1928),'° the other by 
Richmond Lattimore (1942),'* show quite 
clearly both these advantages. The Wade- 
Gery and Bowra version is wonderfully 
free from the poetic clutter and classroom 
idiom which make so many scholarly 
translations unreadable. Although Pin- 
dar’s echoes are seldom very closely repro- 
duced, the main connections of metaphor 
stand out clearly; an English reader of this 
version can really see that Music is one 
unifying theme of the poem. And, occa- 
sionally, as in the opening strophes, a 
Pindaric series is: quite exactly followed: 
18 Pindar: Pythian Odes, trans. H. T. Wade-Gery 

and C. M. Bowra (London: Nonesuch Press, 1928), 
pp. 79-87. 

14 Some Odes of Pindar, trans. Richmond Latti- 
more (‘The Poet of the Month"’ (Norfolk, Conn.: New 
Directions, 1942), pp. 5-9. These translations are in- 
cluded in The Odes of Pindar, trans. Richmond Latti- 
more (Chicago, 1947). 

The light foot hears you.... 

And things that God loves not 

Hear the voice of the maids of Pieria... . 
A marvel and wonder to see it, a marvel even 

These translators are no more able than 
others to find an English equivalent for 
the witty echo of ei@wvors and cipndwvor; 
but they do not lose the ‘‘linked sweet- 
ness’’ of the original figure: “the music of 
her feasts” is answered by “peaceful con- 

Although Lattimore occasionally lapses 
into translator’s English, he is often very 
adept at suggesting the chainlike se- 
quences of Pindar’s Sound pattern. Some- 
times he does this by inventing parallels 
which are Pindaric, if not to be found in the 
original; for example, “shaken with mu- 
sic” (é\edcfouéva) and ‘“‘shaken to hear” 
(arbfovrar Boav aiovra), or “singing fulfil- 
ment” (iuvov redéoas) and “singing in 
season” (karpov ei pbeyéao). As these ex- 
amples show, Lattimore brings the reader 
very close to Pindar’s active language of 
“hearing” and “‘sounding.” And so he suc- 
ceeds more nearly than the other transla- 
tors in equaling Pindar’s closing strophes 
with their many sounds of sweet speech 
and song. But I should add that Latti- 
more’s “good repute” (ed dxovev), like 
Bowra’s “good name,” is a reminder that 
English is not Greek and that translators 
new or old are not Pindars. As we have 
seen in comparing various versions, 
though a translator may seem to have 
grasped Pindar’s main metaphor, he can 
never achieve the same closeness of rela- 
tion throughout the whole poem, for that 
depends on a kind of verbal device which 
can rarely if ever be reproduced. To read 
these translations is to see more clearly 
that Pindar’s odes, which ‘“‘to the Dorian 
mode ....rose like an exhalation,” are 
the structures both of a genius and of the 
genius of a language. 





HE discrepancy which exists be- 
ik the Insular and the Conti- 

nental distribution of manuscripts 
of Aldhelm is paralleled in the case of his 
compatriot Bede. It appears even more 
extreme by reason of the voluminous 
works of the latter and the larger number 
of manuscripts subsequent to the tenth 

Out of more than 1,50Q extant manu- 
scripts, dating from the eighth to the 
sixteenth century, only 21 are written in 
Insular scripts of the eighth and ninth cen- 
turies, and 3 in mixed hands (Insular and 
Continental minuscule) of the ninth. 

For the Historia ecclesiastica the total 
score of English manuscripts (70) is about 
equal to the Continental. For the early 
period and thereafter through the twelfth 
century, from which the largest propor- 
tion dates (almost one-third), the Conti- 
nental outnumber the English; but in the 
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries the bal- 
ance is restored by virtue of the fact that 
“about 70% of the manuscripts copied in 
these two centuries appear to come from 
English scriptoria.”®> The oldest manu- 
script is the Moore Bede, Cambridge Kk 
V 16 (ca. 737), in expert “Anglo-Saxon 
minuscule of an early type with various 
cursive elements... . written presum- 
ably in the North of England or possibly 

** Cf. C. H. Beeson, *‘The Manuscripts of Bede,”’ 
CP, XLII (1947), 73-87. The figures cited by Pro- 
fessor Beeson are derived from M. L. W. Laistner, 
with the collaboration of H. H. King, A Hand-List of 
Bede Manuscripts (Cornell University Press, 1943); 
Laistner, Bedae Venerabilis Expositio actuum aposto- 
lorum et retractatio (Mediaeval Academy of America, 
1939); and Charles W. Jones, Bedae Opera de tempori- 
bus (Mediaeval Academy of America, 1943). 

% Laistner, Hand-List, p. 8. 

(Cuassican PaioLoay, XLII, January, 1948] 

in a Continental centre with Northum- 
brian connexions.’’® The next oldest is 
Leningrad Q I 18, probably written in 746 
by at least two practiced scribes using 
Anglo-Saxon pointed minuscule, with 
some variation of size and regularity. It 
may derive from the Continental scrip- 
torium at Echternach, which was founded 
by the English missionary, St. Willibrord. 
A third Anglo-Saxon codex, London 
Cotton Tib. CII, saec. VIII ez., origi- 
nated in England. The text was copied by 
more than one scribe using pointed minus- 
cule, with opening passages in rotind hand 
and titles and colophons in red. Its orna- 
mentation and script suggest the south 
rather than the region of Durham, which 
Lindsay proposed.*” 

A single folio of another eighth-century 
manuscript is preserved in the London 
library of Chester Beatty, No. 1 (olim 
Cheltenham Phill. 36275 [recently offered 
for sale by the New York dealer, H. P. 
Kraus, item 3 in List No. 109, which ap- 
peared after this article had gone to press}). 
It contains only a section of chapter 29 
and the whole of chapter 30, Book iii, in a 
bold, well-formed Anglo-Saxon minuscule 
somewhat resembling that of the British 
Museum codex just mentioned. 

Of English origin also is London Cot- 
ton Tib. A XIV, saec. IX in. Its script is 
Anglo-Saxon minuscule, apparently the 
work of a single copyist, showing some 
variation in size but not in character. A 
fragment, part of one folio taken from 
a binding, now in the library of C. L. 

66 E. A. Lowe, CLA, II (1935), No. 139. 
6&7 W. M. Lindsay, Notae Latinae (Cambridge, 
1915), p. 461. 


32 BiancuHeE B. Boyer 

Ricketts (Chicago), No. 177, is all that 
exists of a second ninth-century English 

On the Continent 1 of the 2 eighth- 
century manuscripts of the Historia ec- 
clesiastica is an Anglo-Saxon product of 
Fulda, Cassel Theol. Q 2, containing only 
the last two books (50 fols.); and 1 of the 
9 ninth-century codices is Irish, viz., Bern 
363, written in northern Italy. 

Insular manuscripts are somewhat 
more rare in the tradition of Bede’s 
other writings. In approximately 1,000 
theological manuscript items (200 ante- 
dating, and 800 dating from, the eleventh 
century), there are 2 English witnesses of 
the early period in Anglo-Saxon minus- 
cule: London Merton Collection 42, saec. 
VIII ezx., one folio of Bede’s Commentary 
on Luke; and Oxford Bodl. 819, saec. 
VIII-IX, the Commentary on Proverbs, 
written most likely in Northumbria. In a 
Continental codex of mixed script, 
Munich 14423, saec. IX (from St. Em- 
meram), the Commentary on the Apoca- 
lypse is written in Insular minuscule (fols. 
54r—76v) among other non-Insular items. 
The same work was copied at Fulda in 
Anglo-Saxon minuscule, Cassel Theol. 
F 25, saec. IX ez. 

For the other biblical commentaries 
there is not extant a single Anglo-Saxon or 
Irish manuscript contemporary with 
these. But Laistner adduces evidence of 
Insular exemplaria for single ninth-cen- 
tury Continental manuscripts of four of 
the remaining commentaries, viz., Quaes- 
tiones XXX, Collectaneum on the Pauline 
Epistles, Commentary on Mark, and Tobit; 
for two ninth-century manuscripts of the 
Commentary on Genesis and for one on 
Luke. The most striking instance is that 
of the Collectaneum on the Pauline Epistles, 
St. Omer 91, saec. IX in. (from St. 
Bertin), of which he says: “It is the work 
of about ten different scribes, some of 

whom, in writing Continental minuscule, 
display an Insular style. Wilmart con- 
cluded that these scribes were English 
monks who had migrated to France; he 
also believed that the archetype of the 
MS was an eighth-century codex written 
in England.’’®* 

There is no native English codex 
among the 21 manuscripts of Bede's 
Martyrology, but there is one of Continen- 
tal origin written in Insular half-uncial or 
large minuscule, St. Gall 451, saec. LX. 

In the case of his scientific treatises, 
out of a total of more than 300 manu- 
scripts, 2 only were written in England as 
early as the ninth century: Oxford Digby 
63, from Winchester, which contains 
selections from De natura rerum and 
chapter 1 of De temporum ratione; and 
Salisbury 158, which has only De tempo- 
rum ratione. On the Continent the latter 
work exists in 1 Anglo-Saxon codex, Cassel 
Astron. F 2, saec. IX, from Fulda, and— 
in part—in 1 Irish minuscule manuscript, 
Vienna 15298, saec. IX, 4 folios badly 
damaged and discolored; also in Bern 207, 
saec. 1X, written in an unusual type of 
Continental Insular (of Fleury?), chapter 
1 only. Portions of De temporibus and De 
temporum ratione, as well as of De natura 
rerum, are found in Paris 14088, saec. IX, 
in mixed script. All three texts occur 
entire in a single Irish minuscule manu- 
script, Carlsruhe Reich. 167, saec. IX. De 
natura rerum and De temporum ratione are 
contained in Paris N.A. 1632, saec. IX, 
from Fleury, written in Caroline minus- 
cule but possibly by an English or an 
Irish copyist; and De temporum ratione in 
Carlsruhe Reich. 229, saec. IX, which is 
said by Jones to display a ‘modified Irish 
script with marginal scrawlings that sug- 

68 Hand-List, p. 38. 

6° Not 15928, as given by Laistner (ibid., p. 151) 
and Kenney (The Sources for the Early History of 
Treland, I, 671). 

-—= O0 O mw tw 


gest a school-boy.””° Jones also remarks 
passim upon the evidence discovered for a 
“not-too-distant Insular archetype’ or 
immediate exemplars of certain non- 
Insular manuscripts in his lists. 

For two of the school treatises, De arte 
metrica and De schematibus et tropis, there 
is no English manuscript as old as the 
tenth century, and for De orthographia 1 
only of the ninth, Cambridge CCC 221. 
But the first two tracts are preserved in 1 
Continental manuscript of mixed script, 
Paris 14088, and De arte metrica in an- 
other of the same sort, Paris 16668,” both 
saec. IX. And in Paris 7520, which once 
formed a part of Bern 207, the De schema- 
tibus is found, but not De tropis. 

An English manuscript, Cambridge 
CCC 183, saec. [X, contains both metrical 
and prose versions of the Life of St. Cuth- 
bert, written in Anglo-Saxon minuscule. An 
earlier fragment of the metrical Life, con- 
sisting of a single sheet taken from a bind- 
ing, reported from Budapest,” is believed 
to have been written in York ca. 780 and to 
have belonged to one of the early codices 
sent from England to Fulda. 

The meager manuscript remains of 
early Insular production reveal, in the 
case of Bede also, the outstanding role of 
Anglo-Saxon and Irish foundations on the 
Continent in preserving their national 
literature. Even greater was their contri- 
bution to the preservation and dissemina- 
tion of the Latin classics. This is, however, 
far less obvious, for in only a few instances 
do we have the clue of a surviving Anglo- 
Saxon or Irish manuscript. A striking ex- 
ample of Insular transmission is fur- 
nished by the Scriptores historiae Augus- 
tae, in which, curiously enough, the clue 
of an actual Anglo-Saxon manuscript is 

70 Op. cit., pp. 151-52. 
The Schemata of fols. 39v—-40r is not Bede's work. 
2 Laistner, Hand-List, p. 88. 

There are extant only two complete 
manuscripts of the ninth century, Rome 
Pal. lat. 899 and Bamberg E IIT 19 (Class. 
54). The Bambergensis, which originated 
in the region of Fulda,” is written in 
Anglo-Saxon minuscules of the second 
half of the century. In the older editions" 
of the Scriptores, it was regarded as an 
independent authority, of earlier date 
than, but on a par with, the Palatinus. 
Peter”® dismissed in the following sum- 
mary fashion what he understood to be 
the suggestion of an anonymous critic 
that the case was otherwise: 

itaque magno captus est errore qui nuper 
in Zarncki annalibus (1863 nr. 41), cum 
censorem exercitationum criticarum in scrip- 
tores historiae Augustae (Posnaniae 1863) a me 
conscriptarum ageret, inter multa alia quae 
uereor ut certis argumentis stabilire possit, 
etiam hanc sententiam iecit, ut codicem 
Bambergensem e Palatino descriptum esse 
tamquam pro certo adfirmaret. 

For him there was no argument; the dates 
currently assigned to the manuscripts pre- 
cluded any such possibility; the Bamber- 
gensis (B, saec. IX) was judged at least a 
century older than the Palatinus (P, saec. 
X uel XI). Peter held his ground stub- 
bornly; and, though he asserted that the 
decisive factor was the comparison of their 
readings, his point of view even here con- 
tinued to be governed by the respective 
dating of the two manuscripts.” 

It was Mommsen who first disregarded 
the question of dates and concentrated his 
attention on the evidence of variant read- 
ings. Using Peter’s second edition for B 
and notes on P forwarded from Rome by a 
friend, he published a collation of the two 

73 Traube, Palaecographische Forschungen, IV (Mu- 
nich, 1904), 7. 

74H. Jordan and Fr. Eyssenhardt (Berlin, 1864); 
H. Peter (Teubner, 1865). 

75 Op. cit., I, viii. 

76 Editio altera (Teubner, 1884), pp. viii-x; ‘“‘Be- 
richt tiber die Litteratur zu den Scriptores historiae 
Augustae in den Jahrzehnt 1883-1892,"’ Bursian’s 
Jahresbericht, LX XVI (1894), 148-49. 

34 BLaNcHE B. Boyer 

for chapters 1-27 of the Vita Alezxandri 
and chapter 1 of Gallient duo, to show on 
what basis he, ‘‘wie schon vor Jahren ein 
Anonymus,”’ had gained the impression 
that B was copied from P!. The most strik- 
ing item in a numerous list is his repre- 
sentation of the concluding words of 
chapter 19 and the beginning of chapter 
20 of the Vita Alexandri as they stand in 
P. A diagonal tear in the parchment, re- 
paired by sewing, necessitated the place- 
ment of two lines of text (approximately) 
as follows: 

trem locum é@ moderationis 
tante fuit ut nemo umquam ab eius 

latere summoueretur ut omnib. se blandum 

This explains the reading of B, whose 
scribe mistook the position of tantae fuit 
in his exemplar and in copying wrote: ‘ut 
nemo umquam ab eius tantae fuit latere,”’ 
instead of ‘“‘tantae fuit ut nemo umquam 
ab eius latere.’’ The lacunae of chapter 1, 
Gallient duo, are identical in PB, except 
that various correctors in late (fifteenth- 
century) hands have partially filled in gaps 
in P and modified its original readings, 
which are preserved in B. Thus the value 
of B, Mommsen pointed out, lies in its 
function as ‘eine Controle”’ for the differ- 
entiation of the alterations in P effected by 
the original scribe and those of the later 
correctors, a differentiation which is “fiir 
die Kritik massgebend.’’”” 

Dessau carried Mommsen’s thesis fur- 
ther.”? He demonstrated that certain er- 
rors in B derive from misinterpretation of 
firsthand corrections in P; e.g.,7° for 
naturalis (v. 1. 6), P reads natalis, cor- 
rected by suprascript ur over t, which B 
transcribed as nauralis; for historia (x. 
3. 2), P has histoa with ri suprascript 

77 Hermes, XXV_ (1890), 281 ff. ( =Gesammelte 
Schriften, VII [1909], 352 ff.). 

78 Hermes, XXIX (1894), 393 ff. 

79 References throughout are to Hohl’s edition 
(2 vols.; Teubner, 1927). 

over 0, B histria; for scurra (xix. 9. 5), P 
shows scura, with r suprascript above uw, 
B serra. 

Thus by the investigations of Momm- 
sen and Dessau was established as fact the 
hypothesis which Peter had strongly pro- 
tested thirty years earlier. Actually, his 
reviewer had voiced no such hypothesis. 
But this was not pointed out until half a 
century had passed. Then it was re- 
vealed® that Peter had misread the com- 
ment of his critic, who was none other 
than Eyssenhardt. The latter’s position 
was precisely that of Peter himself and of 
all others up to the time of Mommsen’s 
re-examination, viz., that B and P were 
copies (older and younger, respectively) 
of the same codex. Thus Mommsen’s dis- 
covery was his alone and not a confir- 
mation, as even he believed, of a prede- 
cessor’s view. The accomplishment of 
Mommsen and Dessau was acknowledged 
by Peter; but, in reversing his position, he 
made a further mistake by accepting the 
opinion of Fr. Ruehl that B dates from 
the beginning of the eleventh century.*! 
There seemed no alternative to one who, 
himself not a paleographer, accepted the 
general belief that P was not younger 
than the tenth century (Peter said in 
both editions [p. vii], ‘‘saeculi X uel XI’), 
although in the Vatican catalogue of 1886 
it was given as “saec. [IX vel X,’’® and 
Dessau had suggested that P was, rather, 
of the earlier date.** Peter subsequently 

80 Ernst Hohl, “Beitriige zur Textgeschichte der 
Historia Augusta,’’ Klio, XIII (1913), 259-60, n. 2. 

81 In a review of Lessing’s Lexicon, Fasc. I: “Die 
letzten Zweifel hat mir eine Untersuchung des B und 
der Photographie zweier Seiten des P beseitigt, die 
der handschriftenkundige Fr. Riihl angestellt hat; 
nach dem mir giitigst mitgeteilten Ergebnis ist B 
jiinger, als er in dem Katalog von Jaeck angesetzt 
worden ist; bisher wurde P dem 10. Jahrh..... 
zugeschrieben, B dem 9., jetzt ist die letztere HS in 
den Anfang des 11. Jahrh. heruntergedriickt worden”’ 
(Berliner philologische Wochenschrift, XVII [1897], 

82 Stevenson, Codices Palatini Latini (Rome, 1886), 
I, 320. 

83 Op. cit., pp. 397-98. 

in be 
to h 


in fi 
in la 

12, | 



credited Dessau with correction of the age 
of P and reverted to the original estimate 
of B.** Errors still persist, however; Hall 
speaks of P as “9/10 cent.” and of B as 
“now recognized to be an 11th cent. copy 
of the Palatinus’’;** Jardé of the Bamber- 
gensis “‘du [X° siécle’”’ and the Palatinus 
“du X* ou XIe.”’8 The script of the 
Palatinus is ninth-century Caroline mi- 
nuscule. §? 

A third ninth-century manuscript, Vat. 
Pal. 886 (II), preserves a collection of 
excerpts.’* Its relation to P has been a 
matter of dispute. According to Salma- 
sius, Gruter, Jordan, and Peter (in his 
editions), it is an independent witness, 
derived from the same source as P. Fol- 
lowing Becker and Dessau, Hohl*? earlier 
regarded it as a descendant of P, but in 
his later edition he questioned whether it 
derives from P or from a similar codex.°° 
Since the excerpta appeared to him 
“minimi momenti,’” he gave no very 
serious consideration to the manuscript 
and recorded few of its variants.” It is 
carelessly written, the work of an igno- 

84“*Bericht tiber die Literatur zu den Scriptores 
historiae Augustae in den Jahren 1893-1905," 
Bursian’s Jahresbericht, CX XX (1907), 34-35. 

85 FF. W. Hall, A Companion to Classical Texts (Ox- 
ford: Clarendon Press, 1913), p. 267. 

86 Auguste Jardé, Etudes critiques sur la vie et le 
régne de Sévére Alexandre (Paris, 1925), p. 100. 

87 Peter spoke of P as “‘litteris Saxonicis scriptus” 
in both editions (p. vii). After Dessau called attention 
to his error (op. cit., p. 397), he confused the two 
manuscripts, reporting P as Anglo-Saxon and B as 
Caroline minuscule (Bursian’s Jahresbericht, CXXX 
1907], 34). 

88 Dated by Jordan (p. vii) saec. X; by Peter (pp. 
Xv', xvi?) saec. XI; Dessau (p. 413) ‘‘von einer Hand, 
wie es heisst, des 11. Jahrh.”’ ; 

88E. Hohl, “Beitrige zur Textgeschichte der 
Historia Augusta,”’ op. cit., p. 262. 

%” Praef., pp. vi-vii. 

The excerpta are mentioned four times in the 
apparatus criticus: at v. 2. 5 Telephum is read with 
ere. Pal. against Talephum P; at xii. 2. 4 Amazonio is 
read with exc. Palat.2 against amazoniae P; at xv. 11.3 
in facetum is read with Mommsen (Jordan) against 
in latinum Psinlatum P» in lautum exc. Palat.2?; at xv. 
12. 7 subteradnezum is read with exc. Pal. against 
super adnexum P. 

rant and negligent excerptor, who often 
began or ceased his transcription in the 
middle of a sentence and made no attempt 
to connect the disjointed fragments. He 
misread his exemplar and miscopied it. 
In consequence, II is extremely corrupt, 
in spite of a corrector’s effort to effect some 
improvement. But, by happy accident, 
there are preserved in II in the original 
hand a surprising number of correct read- 
ings, against the firsthand errors of P(B). 
These have been adopted by Hohl at 
numerous points, though without ac- 
knowledgment in his apparatus; e.g. : 
i. 16.3 pruinas] II ruinas PB 
17.7 parieti] II parietis P corr. in 
ras., B 
25.9 dicitur] II dicit P 
ii. 5.11 alias] II aliis PB corr. b (Peter 
alus PB) 
iii. 9.4 arabia] II arabiam P 
iv. 17.7 wna missione] II unam missio- 
nem P 
27.7 sententia] II  sententiam P corr., B 
28.4 quid de me] Il quid* me P (e 
eras. teste B) 
v. 2.6 omnes] II omne PB 
4.6 livida] 1 libida P 
ix. 1.7 belgicam| II bellicam PB 
x. 14.11 profectus| Il profectos P corr., B 
xi. 11. 1 quaesiuit| II quaesihit P corr., B 
xii. 4.3 pertenui| II pertinut PB 
5. 6 aluets|] II albets PB2(deteriores) 
5. 9 fasciolis] II fassiolis PB 
6.3 celebre] II celebem P corr. ad cele- 
brem (=B), m exp. 
xvii. 25.6 exhibert] II exhibere PZ 
xviii. 13.2 dla] TI tlle PB 
13. 5 ambitu| II ambito PB 
51. 7 dict iubebat] II dic nubebat PB 
59. 4 igitur] Il ign P corr. ad igit 

At iv. 8. 9, where Hohl adopts Halm’s 
emendation <apud) Romam for romam 
PB, he reports Peter’s reading Romae but 
fails to note that this is found in II. It is 
probably correct: there is no instance of 

82 Presumably from corrections in P (argumentum 
ex silentio), except for certain readings! 

36 BLANCHE B. Boyer 

apud Romam in the Scriptores. Though 
with some names of towns both the loca- 
tive and the accusative with apud occur 
interchangeably, the accusative Romam is 
used only with verbs of motion. In the 
same chapter (iv. 8. 14) the locative 
appears, Romae positus, and in xx. 14. 7 
uel in Africa uel Romace>| roma PB 
rome >. In two other instances II may 
preserve the genuine reading: at x. 14. 13 
Hohl reads figurata with P2; the older 
editors read figurate (=figuratae II); at 
ix. 1. 7 Hohl prints Albim for album P 
albium B (from album?). Klotz called 
attention to the existence of the alterna- 
tives Albis and Alba. From recurrent con- 
fusion of u and a in P, he suggested that 
P’s exemplar read albam. This is the read- 
ing of II. At vii. 1. 8 constuppatus PII is 
corrected to constupratus in the latter 
(II?), construpatus 2. In two places II’ 
probably gives the correct reading against 
the others: the first is accepted by Klotz 
but not by Hohl; the second is adopted 
by Hohl,® viz., xv. 11. 3 infa<ce>tum] 
Hohl (Momms., Jord.) in latinum P corr. 
ad inlatum, illatum > inlautum Petr. II? 
inliteratum Peiper: xix. 2. 1 procer et] II? 
Gruter procerte P procer >. The most sig- 
nificant error in II is tamen for tantum 
(i. 12. 8). It can have resulted only from 
an abbreviation im in the exemplar. 
Obviously, II does not derive from P. 
But it belongs with P and with two con- 
temporary (?) manuscripts,* now lost, to 
a single family, which is characterized by 

3 Rh. Mus., LX XVIII (1929), 280. 
* Tbid., p. 272 n. 
> Rh. Mus., UXX (1915), 478. 

%6One was used by Sedulius Scottus for his Col- 
lectaneum (ca. 850); ef. his Excerpta in Cusanus C 
14. 37 olim 52 saec. XII. Another was consulted by 
Erasmus for the edition of Frobenius (Bale, 1518). 
The latter belonged to Murbach and is listed in the 
ninth-century catalogue of that library (Bloch, 
Strassburger Festschrift zur XLVI. Versammlung 
deutscher Philologen und Schulmdnner [Strassburg, 
1901], p. 271). 

displacements in the text and by ‘“Chris- 
tian interpolations.” 

A second family of manuscripts, lack- 
ing both characteristics of the first, is 
composed of several codices of the four- 
teenth and fifteenth centuries (2).°’ The 
independence of 2 was questioned by 
Dessau, whose thesis has been main- 
tained and elaborated by Miss Ballou,’ 
in an effort to prove that “‘all the younger 
MSS flow directly or indirectly from P.” 
In making a study of the corrections in 
the Palatine codex, she found, in addition 
to firsthand and other contemporary cor- 
rections, a second ‘‘small body of emenda- 
tion [saec. X], which antedates by four 
centuries the work of [5] correctors of the 
early humanistic period’’®*—four of whom 
she tried to identify as Petrarch, Coluccio 
Salutati, Gianozzo Manetti, and Ber- 
nardo Bembo. Manuscript 2, she argued, 
derived from P after certain entries had 
been added between the years 1457 and 
1475. But Hohl! discovered evidence 
that the text is of earlier date; proof that 
it was known in the fourteenth century is 
its use by Benvenuto Rambaldi da Imola 
in his Romuleon of 1361-62; further, the 
> redaction is contained in a manuscript 
of Admont, No. 297, which, according to 
its subscription, was written in 1439. 

On the basis of a comparison with P, 
Hcehl concluded that > as it is known to us 
derives from a medieval editor who, be- 
tween the time of Charlemagne and the 
fourteenth century, worked over the text, 
supplying a title and adding supplemen- 
tary material passim, but that the arche- 
type of this family is not younger than 
that of P and, further, from their similar 

%? Hohl, “Beitrige zur Textgeschichte der His- 
toria Augusta," II, Klio, XIII (1913), 387-414. 

*8 Susan Ballou, The Manuscript Tradition of the 
Historia Augusta (Leipzig: Teubner, 1914), p. 5. 

99 Tbid., p. 7. 

100 ‘Zur Textgeschichte der Historia Augusta: Ein 
kritisches Nachwort,”’ Klio, XV (1917-18), 97, 89; 
Rh. Mus., LXX (1915), 475, n. 1. 

die J 
its *' 


lacunae at the end of the Vita Valeriani 
and the beginning of the Gallieni duo and 
from their individual variation elsewhere 
in corruptions shared by both, that P= 
go back to a common faulty archetype, 
in which the displacements (preserved 
in the first family) were corrected after 
the transcription of P. Accordingly, he 
adopted the following principles in editing 
the Scriptores:'*! (1) P should be con- 
sidered the basic text; (2) where P is cor- 
rect, all other manuscripts should be 
ignored; (3) where P is wrong, 2 should be 
consulted; and (4) where P= err, emenda- 
tion should take place. 

Hohl’s conjectures regarding = have 
been repeatedly questioned,'” but in all 
the criticism no one has remarked his 
fundamental error. This is his disregard 
of II. As shown above (p. 35), this excerpt 
manuscript is an important, if limited, 
witness to the tradition of the first 
family. By his failure to evaluate properly 
the readings of II, Hohl overlooked a clue 
to the date of the second family, viz., the 
agreement of IIZ in correct readings 
against errors in P. The following in- 
stances, adopted in Hohl’s text and at- 
tributed by him to Z only, are proof that 
the second family is as old as the first: 

vi. 3.5 defuerunt] ITZ defuerant P 
vil. 17. 3 iusta] ITZ iurta P 
Vili, 12. 2 inlibera[bijlis] inliberalis IL illi- 
beralis 2 inliberabilis P 
xii. 2.2 mist] IID missi P! misisem P corr. 
xv. 11.4 nol[ujit] 12 noluit P 

101 Klio, XIII, 409. 

For a résumé see Hohl’s ‘‘Bericht tiber die 
Literatur zu den Scriptores Historiae Augustae fiir 
die Jahre 1924-1935,’’ Bursian’s Jahresbericht, CCLVI 
(1937), 129-35. Hohl’s reply to the charge that no 
clear picture of = can be drawn from his critical 
apparatus is a reiteration of his earlier appraisal of 
“die freilich arg verwilderte 2-Uberlieferung” and 
its “schrankenlosen Wilkur’’ in regard to word order, 
conjunctions, prepositions, tenses, and moods—the 
otiose details of which he forbore to record. In conse- 
quence, he accepts as the highest praise the objection 
that in his apparatus = ‘‘zu kurz komme.” 

Xviii. 22. 8 wnum[quem]que] ITS unumquemg. P 
38. 6 livore[m]] ITZ livorem P 
41. 6 delec<ta>tus] TIZ P corr., delectus 
P! teste B 
us<que>| IZ ut P 
convi<vt>is] TIZ P corr., conuiis P! 
teste B 
51.5 cenavit] T1IZ P corr., cenabit P! 
teste B 
62. 1 tum] IIS cum P! teste B 
xix. 1.5 vicino] IID vicini P 


The background of both families is 
Insular. There are characteristic letter 
confusions of n (m), p, 7, s as follows: 

p for n: xv. 18. 1 voluntates R (2 family) 
voluptates P (also at xxvii. 8. 4) ACh 
(= family) 

n for p: xviii. 37. 2 opiparum] Gruter Salm. 
opinarum P opinatum P corr., opi- 

xix. 12. 1 <ac)ampis] Pet. amnes P! p 
amnes P corr., ad amnes 2 omnes 

XXviii. 1. 2 ipse] inse PZ 

xx. 25. 3 mater <n)os] mauros P 
maurus Z 

xxiii. 9. 6 <in)solentia] solertia PZ 

n for r: viii. 7. 6 penuriam] P corr. pecuniam 

xvii. 35. 5 disertioribus] disertionib; PZ 
xxvi. 35. 3 porticibus| pontifices PZ 
n for h: ii. 4. 6 hunc] nune PZ 
vii. 3. 7 orchestra] orcnestra P 
xxvi. 38. 3 mihi sit] Salm. mini sit P 
h for n: xviii. 41. 4 nfalec] haec P hec ChV 
(= family) 
ii. 4. 5 constellatio| cohstellatio P' 
m for r: i. 6. 8 Roxanalorum] mox alanorum PZ 
i. 12. 6 ruralis] muralis PZ 
xvi. 8. 4 familaritatem] familiam tamen 
r for m: viii. 11. 9 cwm] = cur PII 
p for r: 

r for n: 

iv. 25. 12 Cyrrum] cyprum PZ 

vii. 1. 8 constupratus] II? constuppatus 
PII construpatus 2 

xx. 29. 1 Arriano] apriano PZ 

38 BLancHE B. Borer 

xxvi. 30. 4 Carporum] caprori P 
(metathesis?) carprorum > (Klotz! 
Caprorum ?) 
r for p: i. 8. 9 <p>r<adestiterit] P corr. restiterit 
P! restituerit = 
i. 16. 3 pruinas] II ruinas P!2 
xv. 2. 2 nuncupavit] = non curavit P 
(Peter: noncuravit B noncunarit PIT) 
xxi. 17. 6 petit] Pet. rettit P restitit = 
xxix. 7. 6 <p>romam] Eyss. roma PZ 
ponam Pet. 
for p: xiii. 5. 9 apros] P corr. = afros P! 
xvii. 7. 1 typum] tyfum P 
p for f: ix. 4. 1 fratrem] Gru. patrem PZ 
xviii. 29. 5 fronte] P (f a.m. posutt in 
ras.; sed antea quoque eadem littera 
exstabat, ut videtur [Hohl]) pronte 
rfor s: v. 2.5 <He>f<a>destionem] Pet. fertio- 
nem PA (2 family) 
sforr: xvii. 6. 8 quam [q] virgo maxima] 
qua quisgo maxima P! qua quis uirgo 
maxima P corr., quoniam quis Go- 
maxima = 
sfor f: xviii. 42. 4 vicena mulas|] Salm. 
vicenam filas P! vicenam fialas P corr. 
vicenam silas = 
f for s: xxx. 3. 7 sic] P corr. = fit P! 
st for fi: xviii. 40. 6 bafits] bastis II 
s for g: xviil. 51. 6 virgis] P corr? 2 wirsis P! 
u*rsts P corr. 
Open a in the exemplar(s) caused many 
instances of u for a and vice versa in P, 
occasional cases in PII, in PI, P2, I, 
and 2. Insular subscript a may explain 
mgno P* magno P® (xxvi. 35. 4). 
Additional evidence consists of errors 
arising from Insular abbreviations: un- 
familiarity with the suspension dp for 
apud may account for the omission of the 
word in PZ once, in P four times, and the 
substitution of cum in P (xxi. 16. 7); any 
one of several varieties of symbol for 
contra (99, d9-c, 3) could cause cum (xix. 
17. 3) and con (xxi. 8. 2; xxviii. 4. 3) in P 
or emendation to apud in © (xxvi. 25. 2); 

103 A. Klotz, review of Hohl’s edition of the 
Scriptores, Philologische Wochenschrift, XLVIII 
(1928), 458. 

figure-7 et'° underlies the frequent omis- 
sion of the conjunction in P (20 cases in 
Hohl’s text; more than 30 in Peter’s) ; igi 
(from ig ?) for igitur produced ign Ps 
igit P>; g for igitur became ergo (g) in II; 
ne for nunc produced non in PY (xxiv. 22. 
11); conceivably pto for populo caused 
paulo in II (x. 14. 11); pt for potest became 
post in P (xxv. 2. 6); p for per, confused 
with p (prae-) may be responsible for 
praemitteret I (xviii. 29. 4) and premisit P 
(xviii. 438. 1); pt for propter gave praeter 
(pt) in PS (xix. 29. 7); g for quam was 
omitted before quia (g) in P= (xxix. 3. 5), 
and became quae in P (xxx. 10) and Tl (ii. 
5. 1), or -que II (i. 13. 5), or quéa II (vi. 
11. 5; xiv. 3. 1); -que became quam PII 
(xviii. 40. 3); g3i for quasi appears as 
quae P (x. 7. 9), quos Pd (xiii. 2. 6), quis? 
P (xiii. 8. 7; xvii. 26. 3), quam P® (xv. 3. 
7); ¢ for quia became qui (g) in PD (xv. 
3. 5), P (xviii. 28. 7), and vice versa (quia 
replaces quz) in P (xv. 8. 4); @ for quod 
gave qui P quae = (xvii. 16. 5); f (sunt) 
in the phrase nomini ft tributae (xxvi. 21. 
11) led to the error nominis tributae P= 
and in relata ft (xv. 3. 1) to relatas in— 
PIICh (= family) relata sint II? relata sunt 
R (2 family).!° The symbol tm for 
tantum is interpreted as tamen (tn or tm) 
by II (i. 12. 8, with tantum sscr.), by P 
(v. 10. 7, corrected to tantam P»), by = 
(xxviii. 2. 6); @ (the old symbol) for uel 
may be the source of wer? in P (ii. 5. 12)— 
the word is omitted from P> three times 
and twice from P alone; the ancient nota 
a for ut probably caused the error 
alexandrum P® for alexander ut (xvii. 13. 
2), and frequent omission of the word (PZ 
six times, P nine times). 

104 Suggested by Klotz, Rh. Mus., LXXVIII 
(1929), 292. 

105 Klotz (ibid.) suggested the ligature by way of 
explanation of the reading in P; but he would prefer sint 
‘‘wenn es iiberliefert wiire.’’ Hohl reads Sin(t): the 
indicative sunt is probably correct (cf. quae...+ 
erunt, xiv. 1. 1). 



The orthography shows Insular traits 
of double for single consonant and vice 
versa, particularly in the case of s; e.g., in 
P dissertior, misst, recusasse vs. dizxiset, 
mesale (for Messalae), misus, necesitas, 
possesiones; in II uespassiani; in Pz 
missum (for uisum) vs. misit (for missis) ; 
in » potuiset. One of the twelfth-century 
manuscripts of the Excerpta Seduli Scotti, 
Cusanus C 14 nune 37 (novissime 52) is 
reported by Klein!®® as reading basiano 
for Bassiano. P also preserves the typical 
Insular spelling terrentio (for Terentio) and 
the Insular Finit in a subscription (at the 
end of iv, Antoninus Pius), i.e., Finit Vita 
Finita Vita Antonini Philosophi. 

Actual abbreviations in = are without 
significance because of the late date of the 
manuscripts. In II they are few in num- 
ber; even -que is usually written out: but 
at i. 13. 5 quisg. has been changed to 
quisquam; at iv. 19. 5 ne is corrected to 
non (from no ?); at xviii. 59. 4 igi (from 
ig ?) occurs for igitur (cf. above ergo for 
igitur in II). Once or twice the following 
occur: A for haec; gm and quo for quoniam; 
and in for tamen. In P are seen abbrevia- 
tions of the common ninth-century usage. 
From the form a wa (fol. 12v, for a vestra, 
ii, 2. 2), Dessau believed that II derived 
the error aura with aurium sscr., but it is 
more plausible that an abbreviation a wa 
stood in the archetype. For post P has p 
(per, xxvii. 15. 3); q. (quae), Gm (quoniam), 
! (uel). Acorrector in P used ++ (enim), + 
(est), -F (~rum), and subscript 7. But the 
fact of P’s Insular origin is established— 
even without consideration of other fea- 
tures—by the presence on fol. 167v 
(xxiv. 15. 4) of the reversed-e symbol for 
eius (3), which Hohl reproduced as Greek 

16 Joseph Klein, Uber eine Handschrift des Nico- 
laus von Cues (Berlin, 1866), p. 97. 

d and dubbed “‘littera incerta’”’ (apparatus 
criticus ad loc.; eius B). Thus P is shown 
to have been a Continental link between 
two Insular exemplaria of the Historia— 
a lost predecessor and the copy B. MS B, 
Traube believed, was written “im Ful- 
dischen Gebiet.’”!°? Lehmann asserts that 
P originated at Lorsch.’°8 It was used by 
Salmasius and Gruter at Heidelberg and 
came with the Palatini to the Vatican in 
1623. The text of II was probably written 
at Lorsch: item 543 of the Lorsch cata- 
logue!®® almost certainly includes it. 

At Murbach there were many Irish 
manuscripts, and the lost Codex Mur- 
bacensis may have been one of these. It is 
not impossible that the Irishman Sedulius 
Scottus obtained his copy for use in the 
Collectaneum from this library."° Only the 
Bamberg and Murbach manuscripts of 
the Historia are cited by name in medieval 

The first family shows contact with the 
Insular centers Fulda, Lorsch, Murbach: 
the second, which betrays no local attach- 
ment but derives from an Insular inter- 
mediary also, must be of like origin. The 
Insular archetype of the Scriptores pre- 
sumably was transcribed at some German 
monastery which was frequented by 
visitors from the British Isles. 


107 Cf. above p. 33, n. 73. 

108 Paul Lehmann, ‘‘Deutschland und die mittel- 
alterlichen Uberlieferung der Antike,"’ Zeitschrift fir 
deutsche Geistesgeschichte, I (1935), 143. 

109 Catalogue 37, Becker, Catalogi bibliothecarum 
antiqui (Bonn, 1885), p. 115. The reference is to ez 
libro Macrobii saturnalium de servis. Pal. 886 is a 
miscellany; the part in question, fols. 125-63, with 
separate quaternion signatures, contains Macrobius 
De servis (fols. 125-41), and the Ezrcerpts from the 
Historia Augusta (fols. 141-63), written, according to 
Peter, by the same hand. 

10 Hohl, Klio, XIII (1913), 402, n. 2. 



In his description of Atlantis in the Critias, 
Plato gives the exact numbers and measures of 
practically every phase of its geography, pub- 
lic works, and political institutions. In the 
description of ancient Athens, in the same 
dialogue, there is only one numerical detail 
given (the total fighting strength of the state) .! 
This suggests that the use of such specific 
figures is a device peculiarly appropriate to a 
description of the Atlantean state and that the 
specific figures which Plato invents have some 
characteristic intended to reflect peculiarly 
Atlantean principles of legislation and technol- 

The institutions and customs of ancient 
Athens can be and are adequately specified by 
reference to a normative standard embodied in 
legislative principles; the exact measurements 
can be summed up by the statement that they 
are those which are best adapted to proper 
functioning. In a disordered and only loosely 
unified state such as Atlantis, on the other 
hand, institutional and technological details 
are not determined and co-ordinated by a ra- 
tional unifying plan. The closest analogue to 
the structural statements made about ancient 
Athens (where the structure of the society is 
organized around rational legislation) in an 
account of Atlantis is, therefore, the separate 
description of the institutions and_ public 
works of which this social structure happens to 
be composed. 

The substitution of some set of specific 
figures for considerations of proper function 
in a total plan is peculiarly appropriate to the 
description of the type of disunity and disorder 
which Atlantis illustrates. That the specific 
figures given have .in common an arithmetical 
characteristic which emphasizes Atlantean ir- 
rationality and confusion will be shown in the 
discussion which follows. 

Poseidon seems to have been an ancestor 
not likely to produce philosophic and mathe- 

1 Critias 112 D. 

matically minded offspring; for, if we compare 
his ordering of circles of land and sea in Atlan- 
tis to the circles of the heavens described in the 
Timaeus, it becomes evident that, when this 
god geometrizes, he does it like a carpenter’s 
apprentice. And the institutions preserved by 
the descendants of Poseidon who rule Atlantis 
show that, in fact, the offspring have made 
no improvement, philosophically or mathe- 
matically, on the insight of their ancestor. The 
key to the selection of all the numbers in the 
Critias is the statement that these rulers “met 
alternately every five and every six years, 
paying equal honor to the odd and to the 
even.’’? That this shows a total and fundamen- 
tal lack of understanding of the nature of 
number is clear if this passage is compared to 
the careful distinction of kinds of sacrifices 
which should be made in odd and those which 
should be made in even numbers, in Laws 
717 A. Not only is the confusion of even and 
odd (which are the basic contrary principles of 
the most elementary mathematical science) a 
sign of total lack of theoretical ability, but 
the specific numbers cited here, which repre- 
sent the even and the odd, reflect this same 
confusion, the one being the sum and the other 
the product of the first odd and the first even 

Since in Plato’s mathematical images and 
formulas in dialectical and cosmological con- 
texts the basic opposition of odd and even is 
observed and. since in contexts dealing with 
legislative detail ease of manipulation or re- 
ligious propriety is the determining factor (and 
in the latter case the basic distinction is again 
that of odd and even), while in mythical con- 
texts periods and distances are poetically dis- 
missed as “myriads” (perhaps composed of 
lesser, proportionately related periods, which 
are indicated by smaller powers of 10), the 
absence of anything remotely resembling 

27Q re dpriw xai TO wepit7S pépos toov dwovéuovres (C7 itias 

119 D. 3). 

“alternating fives and sixes” in other Platonic 
contexts is causal, not accidental. The choice 
of “six and five alternately” by the Atlantean 
kings is not only an example of mathematical 
ignorance on so grand a scale that they cannot 
distinguish the natures of the odd and the even 
but also a sign of a lack of rational statesman- 
ship so great that no real principle of any sort 
is observed in the fixing of these meetings of 
the rulers, the state’s most important political 
and religious festival. 

Reflecting and leading up to this final de- 
tail, where an explicit statement is given of 
the underlying confusion which accounts for 
its selection, all the other numbers and meas- 
urements cited, however casually, are (except 
one) either (a) multiples of 6 or 5 or (b) parts 
of asum, product, or ratio which in its entirety 
isa multiple of 6 or 5 or (c) 6 or 5. 

Poseidon himself begat five pairs of twin 
sons;? his statue depicts him driving siz 
horses;* his engineering consists in the con- 
struction of five circles (three of sea and two 
of land)’ about a central island with a diameter 
of five stades.® Further, the total widths of the 
circles of sea are to the total widths of those 
of land in the ratio of 6:5.7 (This considera- 
tion of total widths is relevant, since precisely 
this type of relation gives the adumbrated 
geometrical structure operative in Plato’s as- 
signment of relative sizes to the rims of the 
whorls described in the Myth of Er.)® 

The divinity of Poseidon’s nature reveals it- 
self only in the ease with which he performs 
his mechanical operations: he established the 
circles of sea and land “with ease, as a god 
might.”® His descendants, like him in this re- 
spect, created public works of such magnitude 

§ Ibid. 113 E. 
‘Ibid. 116 D. 6 Ibid. 116 A. 
§ Ibid. 113 D. 7 Ibid. 115 D-E. 

§ Republic 616 C-617 D; J. Cook Wilson ‘Plato, 
Republic, 616 E”’ Class. Rev., XVI (1902), 292-93; 
Adam's notes in his edition of the Republic (in which 
he rejects his earlier interpretation, presented in his 
hote “On Plato, Republic X 616E,"’ Class. Rev., XV 
{1901}, 391-93). The counterpart of the ‘“‘Law of 
Nines’ diagrams in the present context would be: 
Water Land Water Land Water (Central Island) 

3 3 2 2 1 5 

* Critias 113 E. 

Notes AND DiscussIONs 


that it appeared incredible;!® but they were 
also like their ancestor in their partiality for 
6’s and 5’s. Working with a plain (which was 
oblong and crooked, not perfectly square or 
straight) 6,000,000 square stades in area," 
they constructed an intersecting network of 
canals.!2 The outermost canal of this network, 
encircling the plain, had its breadth related to 
its depth in the ratio of 6:1. The total length 
of this ditch was 10,000 stades (since its sides 
were, respectively, 2,000, 3,000, 2,000, and 
3,000 stades long).!* These dimensions and 
details represent 6 as the product of 3 and 2; 
10 as the sum of 2, 3, 2, and 3; and a 6:1 ratio, 
reflecting the confusion in these numbers of 
the even and the odd, in the first two cases, by 
the alternatives of multiplying and adding the 
first odd and first even number. In this con- 
text, therefore, the representation of 10 as a 
sum of 3’s and 2’s is not really an exception to 
the rule of the prominence of 6’s and 5’s.!4 
The military arrangements of Atlantis! 
afford a remarkable array of 6’s. The 60,000 
military districts supply the Atlantean army 
with a grand total of 120,000 archers, 120,000 
hoplites, 120,000 slingers, 180,000 javelin- 
throwers, 180,000 light-armed slingers, 240,000 
horsemen and charioteers, and 240,000 sailors. 
Yonsequently, the total military personnel in 
the Atlantean armed forces is 1,200,000— 
exactly sixty times the force that the ancient 
Athenian state maintained, as we know from 
the one specific figure that is given in connec- 
tion with the description of ancient Athens.'® 
Military armaments and matériel in Atlantis 

10 Thid. 118 C. 5. 1 Tbid. 118 A. 

12 Jbid. 118 D. These canals actually represent an 
arrangement too haphazard to fall under the rule of 
6's and 5’s; Plato says that there were transverse 
canals every 100 stades (a total of 31 canals, counting 
the outer ditch), with connecting canals which had 
been cut between them. The image of a geometrical 
maze is used here within the arithmetical metric frame 
to reinforce the notion of confusion. 

13 Tbid. 118 C. 7—-D. 2. 

4The use of ‘“‘myriads’’ has a special function, 
discussed below; but the length is stated in a way 
which does emphasize its determination by the sides, 
hence its derivation in this context from the summa- 
tion of 2’s and 3's, which elsewhere is presented by 
5 as a symbol of the confusion of odd and even 
(wepi 68 way 7d wediov dpuxdeica ovvéBaiver elvat 7rd pixos cradiwy 
puplwy [ibid. 118 D. 1)). 

 Tbid. 118 E-119B. 16 Tbid. 112 D. 

42 Notes AND Discussions 

included 1,200 ships and 10,000 chariots. 
Since this last figure seems an exception to the 
prevalent multiples of 6, Plato adds the ex- 
planation that this was made up by “‘the leader 
of each allotment supplying one-sixth of a 

As we survey these two sets of figures, a 
second principle of selection is also seen to be 
operative: the vastness of the numbers and 
distances involved is reflected by the promi- 
nence of myriads as units of description. The 
ratios which give a qualitative aspect and 
dialectical point to these various precise state- 
ments of distances and numbers, however, 
remain, no matter what the scale, 6’s and 5’s. 

The way in which this principle is carried 
out in the principal religious-political festival 
of the state has already been shown. It is 
further represented, however, in the law that 
no king might be sentenced to death without 
concurrence in the sentence of at least six of 
the members of the council.'® In the state 
religion, the six steeds in the statue of Poseidon 
carry on this principle; and the dimensions of 
Poseidon’s temple are stated in such a way that, 
while their basic ratio is 2:1, the immediate 
reduction of stades to plethra, which the form 
of statement suggests, would yield a 6:3 ratio 

The number of Nereids (100)?° emphasizes 

17 Ibid. 119A. 7; cf. n. 14, above. 

18 Critias 120 D. 

Woradiov wey piixos, elpos 5¢ rprol rhiOpas, tYos 5° éxi 
tobrots oipperpor (deity (ibid. 116 D. 1). 
®° Ibid. 116 E. 1. 

the continuing influence of the cult of Posei- 
don, the Atlantean familiarity with the sea, 
and perhaps also their tendency to make 
everything bigger than they should. These are 
the factors emphasized by Plato’s par- 
enthetical remark in 116 E, which underscores 
the deviation from tradition. But it is a devia- 
tion which merely doubles a set of 5X10 and 
which, in conjunction with the contextual 
mention of the number of steeds, shows in the 
state religion the same basic confusion that is 
reflected in the alternation of 6’s and 5’s. 

In summary, the apparently random num- 
bers so liberally interspersed in Plato’s account 
of the Atlantean state are not inserted simply 
to give an impression of great size or simply 
to create an effect of artistic verisimilitude 
(though, in fact, they do perform both these 
functions). These “random” numbers are con- 
structed on a dialectical and artistic principle 
in such a way that each reflects some aspect of 
the rulers’ basic and traditional mathematical 
and philosophic confusion. Plato’s selection of 
these objective metric statements of structural 
details of Atlantean politics, public works, and 
geography illustrates, and adds further insight 
and precision to, his eloquent disapproval and 
condemnation of Atlantis as a whole. Plato 
reveals his philosophic and artistic precision 
and his sensitivity to the significance of detail 
in inventing the history of a bad state as well 
as in describing the archetype of a good one. 

BowpoI1n CoLLEGE 


Put in a nutshell, the traditional chronology 
of Catullus’ life was worked out as follows: 
Jerome’s notice places his death in 58 B.c. at 
the age of thirty (this is the meaning of “xxx 
aetatis anno,” according to A. L. Wheeler).! 
As he mentions events after this date (e.g., the 
invasion of Britain, the existence of the Colon- 
nade of Pompey),? he must have lived until at 
least 55 B.c.; and if the age at death is right, he 

1Catullus and the Traditions of Ancient Poetry 
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1934),p. 88. 

? Poems 11, ll. 11-12; 55, 1. 6; possibly 53 (see H. 
Comfort, Class. Phil., XXX [1935], 74). 


then will have lived from 85 to 55; if Jerome 
reckoned from a known date of birth (which is 
less likely), Catullus would really have lived 
88-55. Catullus mentioned the fact that his 
brother’s death had driven him from the so- 
ciety of some woman in Rome? (presumed to 
be “‘Lesbia,” the second Clodia,‘ wife of Metel- 
lus Celer); and, as he is assumed to have vis- 
ited his brother’s tomb in the course of his 
3 Poem 68, ll. 27-30. 

«R. Ellis, Commentary on Catullus (2d ed., Oxford, 
1889), Prolegomena, pp. lxiii-Ixxii; Schwabe, Quaes- 
tiones Catullianae (Giessen, 1862), pp. 53 ff. 

Bithynian journey, the liaison with Lesbia had 
therefore begun before 57, which is almost cer- 
tainly the date of the voyage abroad.® Another 
identification which is thus made possible is 
that of Rufus (but not “Caelius’®) with 
Caelius Rufus, whose love affair with Lesbia 
took place about 59-58.7 The former might 
have been a rival of Catullus, if the poet had 
succumbed to Lesbia’s charms as early as this. 

I mention these salient features in order to 
discuss the theories of Rothstein and Paul 
Maas,® who have departed widely from the 
traditional arrangement. There are many other 
points in the chronology of the poet’s life 
which I omit, since the events stated above 
cover the main grounds of controversy. The 
vexed question of Veranius’ and Fabullus 
travels will, however, be touched on as well. 

Rothstein puts all the relationship with 
Lesbia after the poet’s return from Bithynia in 
56 and suggests—though not with conviction! 
—that she may have been the youngest 
Clodia, wife (subsequently divorcee) of Lucul- 
lus. Poem 68, which Rothstein takes as a 
single piece, must then refer to some other 
than Lesbia, since it must date from before the 
Bithynian journey. All short poems written 
before 57 B.c. have been lost. The Caelius of 
poems 58 and 100 is not Caelius Rufus, accord- 
ing to Rothstein;!® but he is inclined to gloss 
over the Rufus of poems 69 and 77, who is not 
so easily disposed of, however awkward it may 
be for the Rothstein theory. 

The suggestion that ‘Lesbia” was Clodia 
Luculli is quite unprovable; and the dating of 
all the liaison after 56 is arbitrary and unneces- 
sary; to account for the kind reference to 
Lesbia in poem 43 it is merely necessary to 
assume that Catullus at least still respected 

5 Schwabe, op. cit. 

‘Rufus, poem 69, 1. 2; 78, 1. 1; Caelius, poems 58 
US ai ee 

7 Schwabe, op. cit. 

5M. Rothstein, ‘‘Catull und Lesbia,”’ Philologus, 
LXXVIII (1923), 1-34; “‘Catull und Caelius Rufus,” 
ibid, LXX XI (1926), 472f.; P. Maas, ‘‘The Chronolo- 
8y of the Poems of Catullus,"’ Class. Quart., XXXVI 
(1942), 79-82, 
; ‘The unity question is of secondary importance, 
Since the chronological evidence in ll. 1-40 is inde- 
pendent of that in ll. 41-160. 

*©“Catull und Caelius.”’ 

NotTEs AND Discussions 


Lesbia as late as the period of Caesarean lam- 
poons (probably 56-55 B.c.), since it need not 
be assumed that the Bithynian voyage com- 
pletely cured him of his interest in that lady, 
although he perhaps learned there that ro- 
mance was not the sole end of existence and 
could think of her now with more calmness. 

It would thus appear that the date of the 
voyage to Bithynia (i.e., the date of the visit 
to the grave in the Troad) is the key to the en- 
tire structure of the chronology. 

Maas has recently gone much further: he 
suggests two voyages to the East, the later one 
a separate trip for the purpose of visiting the 
tomb. He is inclined to identify Lesbia as 
Clodia Luculli; agrees with Rothstein in plac- 
ing all the love affair after the Bithynian jour- 
ney; and suggests that Catullus may have 
lived until about 50 B.c. The lady of poem 
68a (=I. 1-40), quite apart from 68) (=I. 41- 
160), can now be identified with Lesbia (who- 
ever she was), since Catullus’ brother may have 
died after the first Bithynian journey. Curi- 
ously, Maas remarks that Caelius Rufus (the 
historical one) might have been a lover of 
Lesbia before 56 B.c. and Catullus’ “Rufus” 
after that date; and he adds that, if we identify 
her as Clodia Luculli, the problem disappears; 
so also does practically all that the labors of 
scholars like Schwabe and Ellis have achieved 
on this subject! But this does not explain how 
Lesbia—who had not, so far as our information 
goes, a husband at the time, no matter which 
Clodia she was—had a wir (“whatever that 
means,” comments Maas) during the court- 
ship of Catullus." 

The theories of Rothstein and, to a greater 
degree, of Maas seem, in fact, to raise as many 
difficulties as they attempt to dispose of: the 
difficulty of poem 68) and its domina; of the 
uir of Lesbia, and, of course, Catullus’ friends, 
Veranius and Fabullus. Maas considers it more 
natural that their travels should be referred 
(as in Rothstein’s theory) to one journey in- 
stead of the usually assumed two—forgetting 
that he (Maas) has assumed two journeys 
abroad for Catullus? Admittedly, it would be 
easier for one man to go abroad twice than for 
two men to go abroad twice together, if their 

11 Poem 68, 1. 146; cf. also poem 83. 


two missions were official; but the trip(s) to 
Spain may have been on private business, 
probably commercial, while their experiences 
in Piso’s cohors!? do tally with Cicero’s descrip- 
tions of the former’s treatment of his men in 

One point has escaped even the thorough 
analysis of Maas: that poem 101 contains no 
evidence whatever that Catullus paid a visit 
to his brother’s tomb in the Troad: the poem 
may have been mere fancy or may have been 
written for himself (or someone else) to speak 
at the tomb; but that Catullus ever spoke it 
there is unprovable now. And in the descrip- 
tions of his homecoming" there is no grief or 
even decent gravity shown, while it might 
have been a matter of difficulty to leave the 
suite of the praetor on his way out to Bithynia 
or to leave Bithynia during his period of office, 
to visit the Troad. Thus far I think the evi- 
dence of poem 101 is, indeed, as valueless for 
the dating of the Lesbia affair as Maas sup- 
poses. But I cannot see that either Rothstein 
or Maas has improved on the excellent chro- 
nology of the Schwabe-Ellis school," as a 

If one may dare to reconstruct the life in 
outline, it might be suggested that Catullus 
left home early,'* possibly in pursuit of Clodia 

12 Poem 28. 18 Cie. Pis. 17. 40; ef. 40. 96. 

14 Poems 4, 31, 46; cf. poem 10. 

1 Although Ellis makes a determined effort 
(Prolegomena to Commentary) to provide for one 
expedition only on the part of Veranius and Fabullus, 
which seems to me quite unnecessary. 

16 Maas thinks it unlikely that he lived in Rome 
before the voyage to Bithynia: but he was known, just 

after, as a loafer in the forum (poem 10, 1. 2); and he 
must have known Veranius and Fabullus before they 

Metelli, who might have visited Cisalpine Gaul 
when her husband was governor there and 
might have been introduced to Catullus 
through the offices of Caelius of Verona; that 
in Rome Allius gave Catullus opportunity to 
follow out his passion;!* that his respectable 
parents quarreled with him'® because of the 
scandalous affair and had him sent to Bithynia 
in order to “cure” him; and that his savage 
outbursts against Memmius?? may have been a 
mere diversion of the wrath which a lingering 
pietas prevented him from venting on his 
father. When he came back, a more experi- 
enced man with a mind broadened by travel, 
may he not have continued to love Lesbia, not 
with the old fire but with more of pity than 
passion,2“ so that he could not tolerate the 
comparison with Ameana, Mamurra’s mis- 
tress??? Does all this not make as credible a 
story as the later reconstructions, which solve 
practically none of the quite small problems of 
the earlier chronology and create even more 

Rosert J. M. Linpsay 

went away under Piso, more or less contemporaneous- 
ly with his own voyage; but they may have been 
Veronese (CIL, V, 3441 and 3787) and in any case 
might conceivably have met the poet somehow before 
departure, without his actually having taken up per- 
manent residence in Rome. But if we assume that 
Catullus came to Rome much earlier, there is no dif- 
ficulty at all. 

17 Poem 100, ll. 5-7; Clodia was in Rome at some 
time during Metellus’ absence (Cic. Fam. v. 2. 6). 

18 Poem 68, ll. 67-69. 

19 Poem 58, 1. 3, may be a hint of such a quarrel. 

2° Poem 28, ll. 7-10. 

21 Poem 75; cf. 72, ll. 3-4. 22 Poem 43, |. 7. 


In De aed. i. 4. 1 (ed. J. Haury (Leipzig: 
Teubner, 1913], p. 22, ll. 16 ff.) Procopius 
records the construction at Constantinople by 
Justinian of a Church of SS. Peter and Paul. 
This was near the palace called the “Palace of 
Hormisdas,” a building originally the house of 
a fugitive Persian prince of the time of Con- 
stantius (Zonar. xiii. 5. 30-33) which Justinian 
had converted for use as his private palace 
before he became sole emperor (it is described 

again in De aed. i. 10. 4). Procopius continues 
(sec. 3): 

ov 6% Kai réuevos GAO ayiows emipaveot 
Lepyiw re kal Baxxw édeiwaro, Kai érera 
kal téuevos &ANO Ex TAayiov TOUTwW Tapa- 
xeiuevov. (sec. 4) Gudw 5€ rovTw Tad vew ovK 
avrimpoowmrw, ad’ é& mrayias addnrow 
éoraot, svvnupevor Te Kal GAANAOLS EvaptAdor 
OPTES 6.660 

Procopius goes on to describe the plans of the 
two churches, which he says were joined to- 
gether (secs. 4-8); one was a basilica, the other 
of central plan, and they possessed a common 
narthex and a common atrium. 

The Church of SS. Sergius and Bacchus 
alone has been preserved; it is of central plan 
and stands near the sea wall of the city, south 
of the hippodrome and southwest of the Great 
Palace (see the map in A. M. Schneider, 
Byzanz (Berlin, 1936], and Cambr. Med. Hist., 
IV, map 47a, No. 18 on key). 

Other literary sources show that the 
churches of SS. Peter and Paul and of SS. 
Sergius and Bacchus were near each other. The 
Synaxarium _ ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae 
(Acta sanctorum, LXIII, ed. H. Delehaye 
(Brussels, 1902]) speaks (p. 180, 1. 45) of 6 vads 
TaV ayiwy amooToAwy mAnCioY THS wOVAS TAY 
ayiwy paptipwy Lepyiov kai Baxxov. Here, 
the “holy apostles” are Peter and Paul, as ap- 
pears from another passage in the Synaxartum 
(p. 878, 1. 4): ra €yKatvia Tay ayiwy amoarédwy 
Ilérpou kai IlabAov év 7@ Tlepirrerxiw. Cedrenus 
(i, p. 642, Il. 20-22 of Bonn ed.) writes of 
Tov vaov O€ Tav ayiwy Lepyiov kal Baxxou 
éxoueva Tov madatiov mpos Oadacoav.... 
kal ovveyyus tovTov vadv Tav ayiwy amo- 
oTO\wY. .... 

The editors and translators of Procopius 
lave uniformly understood that three churches 
were recorded in the passage in question: (1) 
SS. Peter and Paul; (2) SS. Sergius and 
Bacchus; and (3) a third, unnamed, church 
which was attached to SS. Sergius and 
Bacchus. On the other hand, J. Ebersolt and 
A. Thiers (Les Eglises de Constantinople [Paris, 
1913], pp. 22-23, 26) conclude that Pro- 
copius describes only two churches and that 
SS. Peter and Paul and SS. Sergius and 
Bacchus were joined to each other. How 
the present text of the De aedificiis can be 
interpreted to give this meaning they do 
not say. Their conclusion, however, is certain- 
ly right. The text is corrupt, and its restora- 
tion (which the present writer perceived before 
knowing their opinion) will show that the 
two churches were joined to one another. The 
Words kal ére:ra through tapaxeiuevov were 
added by a scribe who misunderstood the text. 

Notes AND DIscussIONS 


When the scribe copied the phrase od 69 through 
édeiuatro, he had—perhaps distracted by the 
somewhat ornate and quite characteristically 
Procopian description of the Palace of Hormis- 
das—forgotten that the Church of SS. Peter 
and Paul had been mentioned at the opening 
of the chapter. The Church of SS. Sergius and 
Bacchus being the only church which he had 
in mind at the moment, he was puzzled when he 
read the next sentence, &udw dé robTw Tw vEew. 
.... Having to account for the two churches 
which were then described, he added kai éreta 
through mrapaxeiuevoy in order to account for 
the second church. It is very difficult to be- 
lieve that an author so fastidious and care- 
ful as is Procopius would have written kal 
Téuevos &\Xo twice in the same sentence, and 
it would be surprising to find him writing 
éx mAayiov and éx 7Aayias in successive sen- 
tences. When he had to use a word for “church” 
several times in the same sentence or in suc- 
cessive sentences, Procopius was usually care- 
ful to use synonyms (e.g., tepa, éxxAnoia, 
vewv, li. 3. 26; vewv, fepdv, v. 1. 6; exxAnoia, 
iepdv, vewv, éxxAnola, i. 2. 13-14). Moreover, 
if he had written the phrase in question, we 
should expect to find, instead of téuevos ado, 
at least 7. rpirov or 7. érepov. Finally, there 
is no other instance, in the description of the 
churches of Justinian at Constantinople (i. 
1-9) in which Procopius fails to give the name 
of a church which he mentions. 

If the phrase xai érecra through mapaxei- 
yevov is deleted, Procopius’ account is archeo- 
logically much more satisfactory. The Church 
of SS. Peter and Paul, designed to be a rival 
of the older Roman basilicas of St. Peter and 
of St. Paul, must have played an important 
part in Justinian’s effort to build a New Rome, 
so that we should be surprised to find it merely 
mentioned and not described, as is the case in 
the hitherto accepted text of the De aedificiis; 
and it is natural to find that the text, as recon- 
stituted here, shows that the church was a 


Wasuinaton, D.C. 



Cum peteres Siciliam, traiecisti fretum. 
temerarius gubernator contempsit austri minas, 
ille est enim qui Siculum pelagus exasperet et 
in vertices cogat; non sinistrum petit litus, sed 
it a quo propior Charybdis maria convolvit. 
sed itaquo Q- sed ita quo LMPb _ set id quo primo 

p dein sedit quo sedidaquo P. Thomas (sic Hense 
Beltrami Préchac) sed id quo vulgo olim 

The reading of the manuscripts seems bet- 
ter than the emendation, which is apparently 
a correction of the old vulgate. For the form it 
in Seneca, cf. Ep. 18. 3 and 94. 63; for the con- 
struction, ef. Hp. 74. 4: quisquis ab igne propior 

Recognition that tt is a verb may help clari- 
fy another problem raised in this passage. For 
petit Schweighiuser suggested petit, which 
Beltrami accepts, printing petit (so also 
Préchac). The form it can be either present or 
perfect, but the rarity of the contracted form 
in the perfect (cf. Rubenbauer, TLL, Vol. V, 
Part 2, Fasc. 4 [1934], col. 627, ll. 33 ff.) is an 
argument in favor of taking both verbs as 




Oedipe, ou la légende du conquérant. By MariE 
Detcourt. (“Bibliothéque de la faculté de 
philosophie et lettres de l’Université de 
Liége,” Fasc. CIV.) Paris: Librairie E. Droz, 
1944. Pp. xxiii+262+9 pls. Fr. 150. 

A new book-size treatment of the Oedipus 
legend is an event to attract attention among 
mythologists. Robert’s two-volume Oidipus is, 
to be sure, now over forty years old and was of 
too highly controversial a character ever to be 
entirely satisfactory. Many, including the 
present reviewer, have found much fault with 
Robert, but none had hitherto attempted to 
redo his work. The reader is, then, prepared for 
some new departures in interpretation, since 
there is certainly little to be expected on the 
historical side; and he is not disappointed. This 
interpretation is new and departs radically 
from familiar channels of thought on the sub- 

It is difficult to state briefly the thesis of 
Miss Delcourt’s discursive chapters, and that, 
perhaps, is one of the weaknesses of the book— 
that all the thought expended is never quite 
brought to focus and that the ideas suggested, 
rather than presented, remain correspondingly 
nebulous. She sets out with the avowed inten- 
tion of demonstrating that there was originally 
no Oedipus; that there were only themes, 
which, as they came to be related, became the 
deeds of Oedipus and that out of these grew his 
life and then his character; and, finally, that 
the themes are in origin ritualistic. ‘Oedipus is 
neither a historical figure nor a minor deity 
who was early humanized. He is the very typi- 
fication of heroes of essentially, if not purely, 
ritualistic origin, whose deeds are antecedent 
to their personality” (pp. xii f.). 

We have to do, then, with an interpretation 
on the basis of “ritual survival.” Miss Delcourt 
expresses her view as to the origin of myth in 
the following terms: 

A religious myth is an attempt to explain a 
reality which is felt to be mysterious, and is 
often, but not always, a ritual in decay. The 

explanation is characterized by a personification 
which transforms the emotion common to all the 
audience of the myth into a remarkable event. 
This remarkable experience, as soon as it is set 
up as an example to be followed, is colored by an 
affectus from which results a potentiality of 
action upon the whole group which accepts it 
[p. 223]. 

This is “ritual survival” of a special kind. 
Myths are not viewed as etiologies, as ex- 
planations of practices of forgotten signifi- 
cance, but as conservative propaganda de- 
signed to help preserve a practice already on 
the verge of falling into desuetude. Myths so 
produced must obviously soon lose their proper 
significance with the passing of the practice or 
belief which they support; but in their sur- 
vival they find new applications or are modi- 
fied to suit changed conditions. 

The rituals or practices which Miss Del- 
court seeks to divine (a word of which she is 
inordinately fond) behind the facade of the 
Oedipus legend are naturally of immemorial 
antiquity, and little short of divination could 
hope to penetrate to them. The hazards of 
such a venture are clear to the author. She 
observes: “The trouble is that the cases are 
rare in which it is possible to detect beneath 
the transcription into mythical language rites 
which are well known”; and, further: “The dif- 
ficulties begin when one divines in a myth a 
correspondence to practices of which ancient 
Greece preserved little or no memory, and 
which are not attested except for other coun- 
tries” (p. xiii). The admission of such insur- 
mountable difficulties with a method may 
serve as a captatio benevolentiae but cannot 
throw any philologist off the scent or take the 
place of convincing demonstration. We can 
only observe how these principles are applied. 

The sources of the Oedipus legend are dis- 
cussed in a brief section of the Introduction 
(pp. xv—-xxiii). About them Miss Delcourt is 
remarkably optimistic, stating that “the 
sources from which we derive our knowledge of 
the legend are easily decipherable.” She de- 

48 Book REVIEWS 

votes these pages to a discussion of the famous 
Pisander scholium (Eurip. Phoen. 1760), which 
she believes is a résumé of an abridgment of a 
poem of the Cycle, an opinion not surprisingly 
different from that generally held (see my ar- 
ticle “Oidipus,”’ RE, XVII, 2106). One’s con- 
fidence in the author’s ability to handle the 
sources is somewhat shaken by finding that she 
understands nyvde vidy évra as though it were 
aveyvwpife vidv évra and finds fault with the 
scholium here for not saying precisely what it 
does say. This feeling of distrust is not al- 
leviated when she presses éfevapitas (Il. xi. 
273) to mean “tua et dépouilla,”’ where it cer- 
tainly cannot be so pressed for evidence of 
Oedipus’ having taken spoils from his father 
after killing him. 

Chapter i treats the theme of the exposure. 
In the exposure of Semiramis, Cyrus, Perseus, 
Telephus, etc., the author would find as a com- 
mon factor the central idea of a legitimization 
by ordeal, whereby the accuser is condemned 
if the accused is saved. The oracular motiva- 
tion for the accuser, as in the case of Acrisius, 
would be the addition of a later age, which 
misunderstood the necessity for the condemna- 
tion of the accuser to satisfy a primitive sort of 
poetic justice. This train of thought would, 
then, be one of the tributaries forming the 
Oedipus exposure theme. Another would be 
that represented by the practice of exposing 
deformed or maleficent progeny, as in the case 
of the confused story of Cypselus in Herodo- 
tus. Yet a third is the retreat of adolescents to 
the mountains, preliminary to initiatory cere- 
monies, as represented by the myth of the 
youth of Jason. As a substratum underlying 
these three components is found the thought 
that each form of ordeal renders the subject 
worthy of the power that he later attains. 
Miss Delcourt believes, then, that Oedipus 
was originally a deformed infant and that his 
name was either originally devised to indicate 
this or else that, while the name was not origi- 
nally significant, it was later so explained to 
fit the story. The name Labdacus, like that of 
Labda in the Cypselus story, would be of simi- 
lar origin and that of Laius would be due to his 
concern for the people of the state in exposing 
a maleficent infant. The ordeal of legitimacy 

would aid in explaining the mythologically 
unusual fact of the exposure by the child’s own 

There can be no objection to the belief that 
any given mythological theme is the resultant 
of the interaction of a multiplicity of influ- 
ences, but it is impossible, as Miss Delcourt 
herself remarks, to derive anything from hy- 
potheses based on other hypotheses. Not one 
of these beliefs or practices, save the bare fact 
of exposure, is vouched for by any direct evi- 
dence for any period in the history of Greece. 
Similarly, there is no objection to understand- 
ing the name Oedipus to mean Pied-contrefait, 
but then, if his exposure is to-be understood as 
a transcription of the practice of exposing de- 
formed infants, there is nothing so absolutely 
unintelligible in this theme as to make it neces- 
sary for Greeks of any period to explain it by 
reference to any oracle or anything else. 

We are introduced to the subject of the par- 
ricide in chapter ii by the statement: “A judg- 
ment of God always results in a condemnation. 
If it turns to the advantage of the accused, it is 
the accuser who must perish” (p. 66). The 
development of this thesis follows. As in the 
case of Acrisius, the accuser’s enmity is ex- 
plained by an oracle, and the crime of par- 
ricide is lessened, as by Perseus’ lack of mur- 
derous intent. Still, the parricide of Oedipus is 
not glozed over in our versions, precisely be- 
cause it was dictated by an older tradition 
which showed a hostility between father and 
son, a hostility which cannot be explained 
merely on the basis of the exposure theme. In 
such myths the enmity of father and son (or 
father-in-law and son-in-law) is invariably ac- 
companied by a contest for power. The strug- 
gle between father and son springs from 4 
ritual, that of mortal combat which, in primi- 
tive societies, allows the young king to succeed 
the old king. The family relationship of such 
mythical contestants is secondary and is an 
addition from the time when patrilinear suc- 
cession had become firmly established. “The 
ritual of succession by murder seems to have 
disappeared totally in Greece of the historical 
period” (p. 74). How, then, one might ask, are 
we to know anything of it? “In any case it has 
left traces in the legends. These, in the form in 

Book Reviews 49 

which we find them, all date from a period 
when sons regularly inherited the titles and 
property of their fathers” (p. 75). A convincing 
enough sort of argument if the evidence were 
capable of no other interpretation or if it were 
even reasonably certain that this interpreta- 
tion might be correct. In the first place, I can- 
not be convinced that the state in which we 
find Laertes living in the Odyssey must be ex- 
plained by his having been ousted by Odys- 
seus. Pheres, Cadmus, and Peleus are likewise 
examples of former kings living in retirement, 
but there is no trace of the rivalry between 
generations. Conversely, in the myths dis- 
cussed as showing a conflict between genera- 
tions, there is either no murder or no seizure of 
power. In the case of Pelops and Oenomaus 
there is no murder. If the tale of Phorbas, who 
stopped wayfarers near Delphi and killed them 
if they could not answer his questions, until he, 
in turn, was killed by Apollo, can be of any 
possible significance here, why not also drag in 
Sciron and Procrustes? Procrustes might be 
useful in such a scheme! Heracles kills Eurytus 
but wins no kingdom. Jason regains his right- 
ful kingdom, but there is no murder. Tele- 
gonus kills Odysseus but wins no kingdom. 
The suecession of Zeus to Cronus is a case in 
point but can hardly, by itself, rescue so des- 
perate an argument. Finally, the author ven- 
tures on the dangerous ground of the encoun- 
ter at the crossroads and emerges, leaning on 
the staff of Apollodorus’ statement that both 
Oedipus and Laius were mounted on chariots, 
to propound the theory that originally the con- 
test between the two took the form of a chariot 
race, such as that between Pelops and Oeno- 

Closely connected with this theme of the 
conquest of power is that of the marriage to the 
“princess” which is dealt with in chapter v. 
This theme again is treated as an isolated cell 
containing elements of diverse origins. The 
thesis here asserted is that “the winning of 
power is associated with marriage” (p. 184). 
The matriarchal explanation of this is re- 
jected. The attitude adopted is that the right 
to marriage was primitively associated with 
initiatory rites which qualified youths for 
membership in the tribe. Traces of this are 

sought in myths which present tests that con- 
fer the hand of the princess along with royal 
power. Typical of the sort of circular reasoning 
which the author decries in others and which 
is the essence of this whole book is the follow- 
ing: “What can have been the concrete sig- 
nificance of these tests by which youths dem- 
onstrated their fitness for marriage or the exer- 
cise of power or both? Again we have to guide 
us only the stories, which we must interpret 
with caution” (p. 169). We know of the tests 
only from myths and must interpret them on 
the basis of the same myths! 

Two types of story are singled out for spe- 
cial consideration. First, there is the race to 
win the bride (represented by Atalanta), re- 
flecting simple nuptial rites, and, second, the 
kidnaping of the bride (represented by Hippo- 
dameia), reflecting marriage rites combined 
with a rite for the conquest of power. Perseus’ 
winning of Andromeda by killing the monster 
is considered as another example of the win- 
ning of power along with the bride, but no 
power is thus won by Perseus. Neither does 
Heracles win any by the rescue of Hesione 
(“Laodamia,” p. 184, must be a mistake for 
“‘Hesione’’), and, moreover, he does not marry 
her. The feature of the journey with the bride 
in a chariot is thought, further, to reflect the 
similar symbolical progress by chariot of a new 
king with a fertility goddess in a form of 
hierogamy. The tale of Pisistratus’ entry into 
Athens with the huge maiden, Phye, is ex- 
plained on this basis. As for the application of 
these ideas to the Oedipus legend, the marriage 
to Jocasta, the queen, must be separated from 
the theme of incest; and the mere mention of 
Hera Gamostolus in the Pisander scholiwm 
must serve to recall the hierogamic procession 
by chariot. 

Chapter vi deals with the theme of incest. 
Discarding any Freudian interpretation, Miss 
Delcourt proceeds from Artemidorus’ Oniro- 
critica, with its interpretation of dreams of in- 
cest as favorable for men of political interest, 
since they presage taking possession of the 
mother-earth, to an interpretation of the in- 
cest theme in the Oedipus legend as another 
symbol of the conquest of power. An obvious 
absurdity appears in this chapter (p. 207) 

50 Book REVIEWS 

when the author remarks: “An indignant man 
throws some object on the ground probably to 
call the earth to witness the injustice which is 
done him.” As an example of this is cited the 
act of Achilles in throwing his scepter upon the 
ground in his wrath! 

Whatever may be said of the rest of the 
book, chapter iii, “The Victory over the 
Sphinx” (“La Victoire sur la Sphinx’’) makes a 
definite and valuable contribution to our un- 
derstanding of the legend. It is impossible to 
say when the Theban ®ié came to be identi- 
fied with the oriental winged lioness or when 
the Sphinx episode became a part of the 
Oedipus legend, but it has been commonly sup- 
posed that the Sphinx is, by origin at least, a 
creature of chthonic character (cf. my article, 
“Oidipus,” RE, Suppl., VII, 770). Miss Del- 
court also sees in the Sphinx a “tormented 
spirit” like the Keres or the Sirens. The Sphinx 
is referred to as a musician; she sings like the 
Sirens, to enchant. But something else has 
gone into the makeup of the Sphinx, something 
that had hitherto escaped notice. A close 
scrutiny of the graphic and plastic representa- 
tions of the Sphinx with a victim shows that 
they do not portray a violent combat, as 
everyone has supposed, but rather an erotic 
symplegma (as can be seen with unmistakable 
clarity on a red-figured lecythos, No. 1607 in 
the National Museum in Athens) in which the 
youth usually appears as though spellbound. 
The literary versions had thrown everyone off 
the scent here. The Lamiae and their like are 
known to have had erotic proclivities, and a 
Siren is portrayed in a symplegma similar to 
those of the Sphinx on at least one monument. 
Miss Delcourt argues quite convincingly that 
this conception of the Sphinx points to the 
monster’s having been the equivalent of an 
Incubus in popular imagination. An Incubus 
was, to be sure, male for the Romans, but 
obviously female for the Greeks, appearing to 
men in their dreams.. Literature had, then, ex- 
purgated the character of the Sphinx as it had 
that of the Sirens. 

Chapter ix deals with the riddle of the 
Sphinx as a separate theme. Without adducing 
any evidence from Greek myth, Miss Delcourt 
believes “that we may consider the myth of the 

riddle to have been influenced by beliefs under- 
lying the mysteries.” Mysteries are to be un- 
derstood here in a vague sense appropriate to 
an early period, when 

the people must have imagined they could be- 
stow on the living, formulae and passwords cal- 
culated to give them victory over the infernal 

Those of the formulae which did 
not find any place in the teaching of the mysteries 
would easily have been degraded to themes of 
stories wherein, instead of finding himself 
before the Queen of the Underworld or a judge 
of trespasses, the initiate finds himself before a 
Siren or a Sphinx [p. 149]. 

Chapter vii attempts a history of the theme 
of blindness. Oedipus may originally have been 
only wnpés, i.e., “impotent,” as a result of his 
union with his mother. But the inference ex 
silentio that Oedipus was not blind according 
to Homer or Hesiod is unjustified. The second 
supposition is that blindness would have been 
introduced as a punishment for violation of 
the taboo against incest, and Oedipus’ blind- 
ing of himself would be due solely to Sopho- 
cles’ invention. The great difficulty with the 
latter part of this scheme is that Aeschylus had 
already said as plainly as possible (Septem 
782-84) that Oedipus did blind himself. 

Some general observations on interpreta- 
tion are collected in the final chapter, and the 
volume is concluded with appendixes on: 
“Legends and Cults of Twin Infants” (“Lé- 
gendes et cultes d’enfants jumeaux”), “Animal 
Stories in Greece” (“‘Les Contes d’animaux en 
Gréce’”’), and “The Religious Significance of 
Spoils in the Homeric Poems” (“La Valeur 
religieuse du butin dans les poémes homé- 
riques”). The book is well indexed and has a 
list of ancient authors and principal passages 
commented on. It is very well printed, consid- 
ering the date and circumstances of publica- 
tion. I have noted no more than fifteen mis- 

I hope that I have given a fair idea of this 
work. It has been difficult in many instances to 
sketch briefly the highly intangible lines of 
reasoning, but I have tried to give the essence 
of them as clearly as possible. On the whole, it 
must certainly be said that, while myths may 
be woven of multiple strands of immemorial 

rv SS NS GS SS Se 

oo —— ef VS SS Oe 8 

Book REVIEWS 51 

antiquity, chosen almost at random, because 
their colors seem to blend imperceptibly into 
one another, we cannot hope to achieve any 
solid results in interpretation by applying an 
equally capricious and unguided procedure, 
which depends on divination. The scholar 
needs the myth-maker’s imagination, but he 
must control it by reference to solid reality, 
which is no concern of the myth-maker. 

Lioyp W. Day 
University of Pennsylvania 

L’Empire chrétien (325-395). By ANDRE 
Pigantou. (Vol. IV, Part II, of Histoire 
romaine, in GustavE Guotz, Histoire 
générale.) Paris: Presses universitaires de 
France, 1947. Pp. xvi+446. Fr. 350. 

The book under review, Piganiol’s recent 
work, L’Empire chrétien, belongs to the His- 
toire générale, founded by the late G. Glotz, to 
the section Histoire romaine, in which it is the 
second part of Volume IV. The first part of this 
volume, written by M. Besnier, contains a his- 
tory of the Roman Empire from the period of 
the Severi down to the Council of Nicaea (in 
325). An immediate continuation of this work, 
Piganiol’s book describes the period from 325 
to 395, i.e., from the Council of Nicaea to the 
death of the Emperor Theodosius I. 

The book consists of four sections: an open- 
ing chapter dealing with sources and bib- 
liography (pp. vii-xvi); a brief Introduction 
describing the Empire in 325 (pp. 1-21); the 
first and larger part of the book, entitled “Les 
Personnages et les événements” (‘Personali- 
ties and Events’’), devoted to the political and 
religious history of the Empire (pp. 25-272); 
and the second and final part, entitled “Les 
Institutions et la vie sociale” (“Institutions 
and Social Life”), treating of various aspects 
of the internal history of the Empire (pp. 273- 
422). The book is supplied with a very fine 

A good and reliable work covering the en- 
tire fourth century from Constantine the Great 
to the death of Theodosius I has long been 
urgently needed. Professor Piganiol has now 
filled this want by writing a very fine book on 
this subject. He is thoroughly acquainted with 

the original sources, which, incidentally, differ 
in value, often contradicting one another, and 
which, especially in regard to Constantine and 
Julian, are biased, perhaps even fabricated. 
He is also very well informed on secondary 
works in general, and in particular on the con- 
tributions produced in Europe during and 
after the war—contributions which have only 
recently begun to reach this country. His style 
is simple but beautiful, and with great skill he 
chooses for quotation the most effective pas- 
sages from his sources, which add brilliancy 
and vivacity to his presentation of his subject. 

The major part of the book is devoted to the 
political and religious history of the period 
under consideration (pp. 25-272). This aspect 
of the history of the fourth century has, of 
course, been dealt with repeatedly in various 
historical works by other authors. Piganiol, 
however, has taken into account the results of 
the most recent European studies and employs 
them critically; as a result, he has succeeded in 
giving a vivid picture of the politically and 
religiously turbulent period, and one reads his 
work with great interest and substantial profit. 

The most important section of Piganiol’s 
book is the second part, “Institutions and So- 
cial Life.” This section, supplied with ample 
references to primary sources and secondary 
works, deals with the various aspects of the 
internal structure of the Empire—slavery and 
peasantry, landed property, industrial produc- 
tion, transportation, instruments of exchange 
(precious metals and currency), and trade. 
The emperor, his complicated bureaucracy, the 
army, the tax system and compulsory service 
(les corvées—munera), the social classes of the 
Empire, the constitution of the church, dogma 
and cults, monasticism, the expansion of Chris- 
tianity, the intellectual life, the evolution of 
morals and the law—all these aspects, which 
cover practically the whole internal life of the 
Empire in the fourth century, are very con- 
vineingly and graphically delineated. In my 
opinion, this section of Piganiol’s book lays a 
solid foundation for any further general study 
of the social-economic history of the later Em- 
pire. We may disagree with some of Piganiol’s 
conceptions; we may enlarge on one or another 
aspect of his masterly picture; but no devia- 


tion or enlargement diminishes in the least the 
great significance of this section for the study 
of the internal life of the Empire. 

Several specific points made by Piganiol de- 
serve particular mention. After describing the 
activities of Constantine the Great, Piganiol 
comes to the following conclusion: “If one con- 
siders Constantine from the point of view of 
the Middle Ages, it must be recognized that he 
gives us the first appearance of a medieval 
sovereign (p. 72).”! I wish also to point out 
here Piganiol’s stimulating but debatable ob- 
servation that Christianity was in some re- 
spects a form of Platonism accessible to the 
masses (p. 401). The book closes with the fol- 
lowing statement (pp. 421-22): 

It is too convenient to pretend that at the 
arrival of the barbarians in the empire “every- 
thing was dead; it was an exhausted body, a 
corpse stretched out in its own blood”’ [Herder], 
or that the western Roman Empire was not de- 
stroyed by a brutal concussion, but “fell asleep”’ 
{s'est endormi (Sundwall)]. Roman civilization did 
not die a beautiful death [de sa belle mort]. It was 

In reading these lines, I am unable to resist 
thinking that if the western Roman Empire 
disappeared as a political organism, Roman 
civilization in some form or other continued to 
exist. I cannot see sufficient justification for so 
extreme a statement as “it was assassinated.” 

A few notes on Piganiol’s Bibliography (pp. 
vii-xvi) follow: P. viii: Piganiol, following 
some recent studies, calls the lexicographer 
Suidas, Dodéa. P.ix: E. Sachau did not edit 
the Chronicle of Arbela but merely translated 
it into German; the Syriac text of the Chronicle 
had already been published by A. Mingana, in 
1907. P. ix: The Arab historian, Tabari, is to 
be attributed to the tenth century rather than 
to the ninth (he died in 923). P. ai: To 
Piganiol’s note on the Expositio totius mundi 
may be added A. Vasiliev’s special study “Ex- 
positio totius mundi” (Seminarium Konda- 
kovianum, VIII [1936], 1-39). P. ai: Piganiol 
mentions only the first edition of Lebeau’s 

1 Cf. N. H. Baynes, in the Cambridge Ancient His- 
tory, XII (1939), 699: ‘‘Constantine sitting amongst 
the Christian bishops at the oecumenical council of 

Nicaea is in his own person the beginning of Europe's 
Middle Age.”’ 

52 Book REvIEws 

Histoire du Bas-Empire; he should also have 
included the second edition, revised and en- 
larged, by two orientalists, Saint Martin and 
Brosset (21 vols.; Paris, 1824-36). P. xit: In- 
stead of citing the Russian edition of Vasiliev’s 
History of the Byzantine Empire, which is now 
of no value (the first volume contains no foot- 
notes), it would be better to cite, in addition to 
the French edition, the English edition (2 vols.: 
Madison, Wis., 1928-29); a Spanish edition 
came out in 1946 (Barcelona). P. xv: To the 
bibliography on religious history should be 
added a very important Russian book by V. 
Bolotov, Lectures on the History of the Ancient 
Church, Volume III: A History of the Church 
in the Period of the Ecumenical Councils (St. 
Petersburg, 1913). P. 25: To the legendary lives 
of Constantine and Helen may be added Bios 
kal moNtTela TaV ayiwy DeooTéerTwY peyadwy 
Baoitéwy kal icarocroAwy Kwvotavtivov kal 
‘EXévns (from Cod. Mare. CLXVIII), which 
was published in Oeoditouv ’Iwavv0d Mvnueta 
aytodoyixa (Venice, 1884), pp. 164-229. See 
an almost unknown study written in Latin by 
a Russian professor, M. KraSeninnikov, ‘Pro- 
dromus sylloges vitarum laudationumque 
sanctorum, Constantini M. et Helenae matris 
eius Graece atque Slavice mox edendarum,” 
Supplement to Volume I of Revue byzantine 
(Vizantiiskoe obozrienie) (Yuryev, 1915), pp. 
122. P. 26: In the bibliography on the so-called 
“Edict of Milan” the excellent Russian work of 
A. Brilliantov should be mentioned, The Em- 
peror Constantine the Great and the Edict of 
Milan, 313 A.D. (Petrograd, 1916). 

To conclude, Piganiol’s excellent work is of 
such value that it fully merits a suitable 
presentation in the English language. 

Dumbarton Oaks 
Harvard University 

Observations on Familiar Statuary in Rome. By 
Ruys Carpenter. (“Memoirs of the Ameri- 
can Academy in Rome,” Vol. XVIII.) 
New York: American Academy in Rome, 
1941. Pp. 110+34 pls. 

During the last fifty years a number of 
books on Greek sculpture have been greeted by 

Boox REVIEWS 53 

enthusiastic reviewers as “the most important 
work since Furtwiingler’s Masterpieces.” If all 
or most of the theses in Professor Carpenter’s 
book are approved by posterity, it will indeed 
be a landmark comparable to the Masterpieces; 
and in nature it is not wholly unlike the earlier 
work, though Furtwiingler’s timid and falter- 
ing advocacy of his views offers one contrast. 
There is an amusing parallel in that Carpenter 
rebukes his predecessors, including Furt- 
wingler, for relying too much on the ancient 
writers and too little on the study of existing 
sculptures, just as Furtwingler rebuked his 
predecessors. And there is no doubt whatever 
that both men were very keen observers. A 
broad distinction might be drawn between 
comparative observation of sculptures scat- 
tered over Europe, in which Furtwiingler ex- 
celled, and observation of what other people 
have been unable to see in single pieces, which 
is Carpenter’s specialty. Either or any kind of 
observation usually requires interpretation by 
sound judgment, in the light of broad and ac- 
curate knowledge, if it is to mark an epoch in 

The “Terme Niobid” is briefly discussed 
(pp. 28 f.), and it is decided that she was made 
not later than 440 and was not in the pediment 
at Bassai. This conclusion is naturally accept- 
able to me; my remarks to the same effect, 
though not published until 1943 (AJA, XLVIT 
(1943], 16 f.) were written without knowledge 
of Carpenter’s discussion. My own candidate 
for the pediment (ibid.; CP, XX XIX [1944], 
48f.) has now been fully published (Mon. 
Piot, XX XIX [1943], 49-80), along with its 
companion piece, by Picard, who regards the 
two as lateral akroteria of the Bassai temple. I 
had mentioned this possibility, but preferred 
the pediment chiefly on the assumption that 
the treatment of the back and the weathering 
would favor it; and, indeed, the treatment 
shown in the views of side and back published 
by Picard is proper especially to a pedimental 
figure, though it could occur in an akroterion. 
But the difference between these two hypothe- 
ses is of slight importance for the “Terme 
Niobid”’; if either is right, it proves that the 
entire exterior of the Bassai temple was not 
completed years before the interior; and the 

theory thus disproved is almost a prerequisite 
for the attribution of the “Terme Niobid” to a 
pediment of the temple. 

A remarkable theory is developed (pp. 30- 
35) about the “Esquiline Venus”’: that a sculp- 
tor of the Claudian period combined a Hel- 
lenistic Aphrodite type (from the waist down) 
with a boy athlete type of ca. 460 (from the 
waist up, including the head), with only super- 
ficial modification of the latter, in order to 
make what could be sold as a female nude of 
the fifth century. The discussion intended to 
show that this procedure is nothing astonishing 
is remarkable especially for the statement that 
“Greco-Roman statue-cutters were quite lit- 
erally copyists and could only make statues 
from statues.” As a universal rule, which is 
what it is on its face, this statement is con- 
trary to general knowledge. As for the specific 
arguments on the Venus, I am not impressed 
by those that I feel competent to appraise; but 
I should record that the distinct horizontal line 
across the back, supposedly marking the 
“seam” between the two types, has been 
thought by competent students of anatomy, 
whom I have consulted, to require some ex- 
planation. Recently, a new element in the 
problem has appeared (Charbonneaux in Mon. 
Piot, XX XIX [1943], 35-48), a torso in the 
Louvre. If the “Esquiline Venus’ is copied 
from a transitional original, the torso is an- 
other copy from the same original; if the 
“Venus” originated in any such manner as 
Carpenter believes, then the torso must be 
copied from the “Venus” herself. Late clas- 
sicistic creations were not often copied, yet 
sometimes they were; so this consideration is 
not decisive. The head belonging to the torso 
was not a close copy from the head of the 
“Venus,” as remaining bits of hair show, and 
neither was the support; these differences, as 
far as they can be seen, would be normal varia- 
tions between copies from a common original. 
And the “seam” on the back is much less 
marked on the torso. 

The “Spinario” is discussed on pages 35-40, 
with a conclusion which has been the majority 
view for some time—that head and body be- 
long to types not originally associated. The 
chief new observation is that the neck was cast 

54 Book REVIEWS 

in a separate piece, as is indicated by two fine 
seams which are visible “under a strong light 
and beneath a powerful magnifying-glass.”’ In 
neither seam are the two pieces joined by 
tongue-and-groove, as are the right arm and 
both legs of the statue. Carpenter’s conclusion 
is that the late sculptor cast a bronze head 
from an original of the fifth century, a bronze 
body from an original of the third century, and 
a bronze neck of his own make and soldered the 
three pieces together. This is an unreasonable 
and improbable procedure: in such a case he 
would surely unite his two positives in plaster 
by a neck in plaster or clay, and then proceed 
with his casting as if the model had been made 
in the usual way.' The condition that Carpen- 
ter reports in the “Spinario” indicates that the 
head and body were not recastings, but the 
pre-existing bronzes themselves. (He does not 
explicitly disclaim this view for the body, but 
apparently considers its genesis similar to that 
of the head.) Thus the problem again arises, 
whether the head is an original of the fifth cen- 
tury. Carpenter presents, and indeed empha- 
sizes, an observation of interest in this connec- 
tion: that the eyes of the “Spinario” were fixed 
in place from the inside, as was customary be- 
fore the first century B.c. There appears to be 
no evidence against the head as an original, 
unless in the “exaggerated projection of the 
upper eyelids beyond the lower.” The exagger- 
ation does not seem great, but would not be 
surprising; it would be analogous to the prac- 
tice of some vase-painters in the second quar- 
ter of the fifth century, who, delighted at hav- 
ing learned to draw profile eyes, draw them 
even in frontal faces. 

Illustrations are provided of the marble 
head in the Museo Mussolini (what is the 
present name of this collection?), which is de- 
clared a copy from the same original as the 
“Spinario” head. Ordinary photographs of the 
“Spinario” do not show the head well; the best 
published illustrations of the head, as far as I 
know, are those from a cast, published in the 
Archaeologische Zeitung for 1883. A comparison 
between them and the pictures of the Museo 

1 I have had the privilege of discussing this matter 
with Professor Ulrich Middeldorf and with Mr. and 
Mrs. F. C. Hibbard, who are both experienced sculp- 

Mussolini head shows that the two heads have 
nothing in common except the general arrange- 
ment of the hair. The hair is not similar in de- 
tail, and nothing else is similar at all. It is 
naturally impossible to be sure that the maker 
of the marble head was not acquainted with 
the Spinario type, but his product has no value 
for the study of the bronze. 

In the discussion there are several passages 
which, though unimportant for the argument, 
disturb the reader by looseness of thought or 
of expression. “The head was cast separately 
and therefore the traces of the peculiar at- 
tachment of the head to the neck must refer to 
the original assemblage of the statue and not 
to some supposed repair.” ‘Could’ should be 
substituted for “must,” since the separate cast- 
ing of the head is no guaranty against damage. 
Carpenter objects to Kluge’s view that heads 
were cast separately in order that the eyes 
could be set from within, apparently without 
noting that Kluge was also considering cases 
in which only the upper part of the head was 
separate, which hardly admit any other ex- 
planation. And he rebukes Kluge for supposing 
that the head of the “Spinario” was knocked 
off, whereas, if I am not mistaken, Kluge 
means that a head previously worn by the 
statue had been knocked off. 

In the discussion of the “Ludovisi Throne” 
(pp. 41-61), attention is called to the fact that 
the reliefs are slightly mutilated by the cut- 
tings for the corner-pieces; and it is concluded 
that small corner-pieces were planned but that 
larger ones, requiring larger cuttings, were 
eventually used. “Something was intended to 
fill and cover these triangular fields, and that 
something ultimately demanded more space 
than had been foreseen” (p. 43). This section 
is one of the most interesting in the book. 
Some of it makes hard reading, though the 
matter singled out by the author (p. 45) as “a 
very subtle point, which I almost despair of 
making clear,” seems simple enough, unless I 
have missed it altogether. Also I am neither 
baffled nor astonished by the exposition to the 
effect that the strip of blank space remaining 
at the bottom, in the central part of the front 
of the Throne, does not represent water or any- 
thing else. But if “the rocky slopes imply noth- 

ast aw S&S 8" SO OB” eS 

ee ee a ee a =< 

Book REvIEws 55 

ing whatever as to the character of the mate- 
rial world where the cloth hangs suspended,” 
then rocky slopes ought to be commoner than 
they are in Greek relief. 

It is not clear whether Carpenter believes 
that there were smaller cuttings at the corners, 
preceding the present ones. Von Gerkan found 
an extension of the cutting on the wing with 
the flute-player, more roughly done than the 
rest; but this difference is ignored by Carpen- 
ter, for whom all the existing cuttings belong 
to the “final field.” Apparently, then, there is 
no evidence for earlier cuttings; but, if this is 
so, there appears to be no evidence that any 
separate ornaments at the corners, vegetabiliar 
or other, were present or planned in an earlier 
scheme. The evidence for any revision consists 
only in the encroachment of the present cut- 
tings on the sculptures (certainly the anathyro- 
sis on the bottom is no reinforcement), and it 
is questionable whether this evidence is valid. 
It is hardly conceivable that any circum- 
stances could really have required corner- 
pieces of any specific size; it must have been 
by oversight that pieces were made which 
necessitated the adjustments, and this could 
have happened at one time as well as at an- 
other. It is Carpenter’s hypothesis that his 
later and larger corner-pieces corresponded 
pretty closely to those of the Boston 
“Throne”; but this appears to be purely con- 
jectural, even if all his antecedent assumptions 
be accepted. The subject matter of the reliefs is 
discussed, and the conclusions are in part con- 
vincing; it may be remarked that a white- 
ground pyxis in Ancona (Rivista del R. Istituto 
@archeologia e storia dell’arte, VIII [1940], 
45 ff.) may be regarded as supporting the in- 
terpretation as the birth of Aphrodite, but 
hardly justifies it. 

The “Thusnelda” of the Loggia dei Lanzi is 
found to be a copy of a Medea by Polykleitos, 
which is imitated also in a Peliad (not Medea) 
in the Peliad relief in the Lateran. The identifi- 
cation as Medea could be right, but it would 

hardly be a fifth-century Medea; and there - 

appears to be no connection with the figure in 
the Lateran relief. I am glad to find Carpenter 
among those—the majority party in recent 
years—who assign the “Capitoline Amazon” 

to Polykleitos, but I cannot see a cogent re- 
semblance between the Amazon head and the 
head of “Thusnelda.” Specifically, the Ama- 
zon’s hair, with its remarkable interlacing 
locks, is totally unlike Thusnelda’s, for which 
the best parallel that I have observed is the 
hair of the Soranzo “Eros.” (That is fifth cen- 
tury, to be sure, but not Polykleitan.) The 
long, isolated locks on the forehead are hardly 
paralleled in the fifth century, though some- 
what similar ones are common enough later 
(“Eros of Centocelle,” ‘Vatican Melpom- 

The remainder of the book may be sum- 
marized in a series of brief propositions. The 
“Lateran Marsyas” is not copied after Myron 
but from an original of the late fifth or fourth 
century; so also the ‘“Protesilaos,” the ‘Pol- 
lux,’”’ and the “Perseus” head sometimes as- 
cribed to Myron. The Subiaco youth is copied 
from an original a few decades earlier than 
Myron’s diskobolos. The Anzio maiden is cop- 
ied from the epithyusa of Phanis. Glyptic 
sculpture gave way to plastic sculpture about 
200 s.c. The Belvedere torso is Marsyas, and a 
colossal draped fragment probably belonged to 
an Apollo that accompanied it. Studniczka’s 
Menander is really Vergil (I am beginning to 
believe it). The “Hellenistic Prince” of the 
Terme is probably Lucullus, perhaps by 
Arkesilaos. More recently (AJA, XLIX 
[1945], 353-57) he has been identified by Car- 
penter as Sulla; and this is combined with a 
remarkable hypothesis, according to which the 
“Prince” and the bronze boxer of Apollonios 
originally belonged to a group representing 
Amykos and the Dioskouroi. 

Of course, these brevities give no idea of 
Carpenter’s discussions, and, indeed, the fuller 
comments above give only a very inadequate 
idea. The book abounds in alert observation 
and ingenious suggestion, and it is written in a 
beguiling style which requires the reader to 
keep his wits about him if he is to weigh the 
evidence. A great deal of the evidence cannot 
be appraised without a trip to Rome or to a 
really good collection of casts; the latter would 
have some advantage for comparative study 
but has the preponderant disadvantage that 
no good collection of casts exists anywhere on 

56 Book REVIEWS 

earth. The author did his best to provide illus- 
trations; they are numerous and evidently 
chosen with care, and the photographs were 
excellent, but the reproduction is not very 
good. However, the study of sculpture from 
photographs, no matter how good they are, is 
a business full of pitfalls. 

This review is not so tardy as might be sup- 
posed, for the war made copies of the book 
very scarce until recently. It is safe to say that 
it has been eagerly studied, and will be for 
years, by specialists all over the world. 


University of Chicago 

La Révélation d’Hermés Trismégiste, Vol. I: 
L’Astrologie et les sciences occultes. By 
[A.-J.] Fesruaitre, O.P. (“Etudes bi- 
bliques.”) Paris, 1944. Pp. xii+-424. 

This notable work on Hermes Trismegistos 
deserves a wider audience than its rather for- 
bidding title might invite. Father Festugiére 
has written a thorough and authoritative study 
of a movement which is little known even to 
many classicists. Yet for an understanding of 
later antiquity this movement is important, 
both in itself and because it is symptomatic of 
a new and pervasive frame of mind. The in- 
troductory chapters, in particular, should be of 
interest to anyone who is concerned with the 
intellectual history of Europe. 

The modern world, in considering its herit- 
age from classical antiquity, thinks of the 
achievements of Greece—whether in litera- 
ture, the fine arts, or philosophy—primarily as 
expressions of the power and supreme value of 
human reason. The Greek mind at its best 
sought, above all, to understand and to set 
forth, in whatever medium was appropriate, a 
picture of the world and of man himself that 
was ordered, clear, and intelligible. It is this 
aim, no less than the things achieved by it, 
which typifies for us the Hellenic spirit. 

Yet we must not fall into the error of seeing 
in Hellenism nothing but a rationalism pure 
and unalloyed. Nonrational movements and 
tendencies existed at all periods of Greek his- 
tory, at times far below the surface, again 

clearly apparent to our view. Hermetism was 
such a movement. Though predominantly 
Greek in its development, it appears notably 
un-“‘Hellenic” in so far as it represents a turn- 
ing-aside from the characteristic Greek em- 
phasis on reason. Men still sought the truth, 
and sought it passionately; but many had 
despaired of finding it in the old way. 

The Hermetic literature is part of a con- 
siderable body of writings of revelation which 
enjoyed an increasing vogue in the early cen- 
turies of the Christian era. As men lost faith in 
the efficacy of human reason to chart their 
path in this world and the next, they turned to 
a type of wisdom which purported to be di- 
vinely revealed and which was above, or be- 
yond, the realm of reason. Pythagoras and 
(strangely) Democritus emerge as prophets of 
such “wisdom,” but even greater appeal at- 
tached to the names of oriental sages, more 
remote in time and distance. It was in the 
guise of revelations by Egyptian, Jewish, 
Persian, Chaldean, and Indian prophets or 
gods that most of this material gained cur- 
rency. Festugiére is here concerned with those 
writings which relate to the Egyptian god 
Thoth, identified by the Greeks with Hermes. 
The present volume deals with the earlier 
“popular” Hermetic writings, those on astrol- 
ogy and the occult sciences. A second volume 
will carry on the study to include the theologi- 
cal and philosophical works, such as the 
Corpus Hermeticum, of which an edition by 
Festugiére and A. D. Nock is now appearing in 
the Budé collection. The completion of these 
twe works will constitute a major contribution 
to the knowledge of later antiquity. 

The first four chapters of the present work, 
admirably Gallic in clarity, perception, and 
brevity, serve as an introduction to the entire 
Hermetic movement. The second century of 
our era was crucial for the future course of the 
Western world, and its intellectual and spirit- 
ual atmosphere is here brilliantly portrayed. 
It was an age when Hellenism seemed supreme, 
the age which set and defined the content of a 
“liberal education” for the next thousand 
years. It was also (though Festugiére does not 
discuss this) the age in which Christianity 
gained a strong and enduring foothold. And it 

was the age when the reaction against the ra- 
tional humanism of Greece made itself strongly 
felt. The opening chapter of the book is ap- 
propriately entitled “Le Déclin du rationa- 

A chapter on “Les Prophétes de |’Orient”’ 
brings out the characteristics which were, for 
the most part indiscriminately, ascribed to the 
reputed authors of this type of literature. 
Never, perhaps, was the oriental “mirage,”’ 
which had fascinated the Greeks from at least 
the time of Herodotus, stronger in appeal than 
at this period and in this milieu. “‘La Vision de 
Dieu” makes clear, by a number of examples, 
how the visions were obtained and what they 
were intended to reveal. From the traditional 
oracles men had sought foreknowledge of spe- 
cific facts and events affecting them as individ- 
uals; from these visions they now sought to 
obtain a revealed doctrine, whether of re- 
ligion, of morality, or even of science. We are 
so familiar with the idea of religious revelation 
that we are likely to forget that it was not a 
normal part of the Hellenic tradition. More 
startling to us is such a revelation as that ob- 
tained by a certain Thessalos from the god 
Asklepios: dissatisfied with the medical results 
of his use of the Book of Nechepso, Thessalos 
prevailed upon an Egyptian priest to produce 
for him a vision of the god, provided himself 
with paper and ink for the occasion, and 
emerged from the interview with the treatise 
On Plants Subject to the Twelve Signs of the 
Zodiac and to the Seven Planets! 

In the final introductory chapter Festugiére 
traces the development of Hermes Trismegis- 
tos, and his emergence as a figure to whom 
revelations were ascribed. There is no clear 
evidence that the temples of Egypt had, under 
the Pharaohs, any collection of writings attrib- 
uted to Thoth. From the Ptolemaic period on, 
however, there was a Hermetic literature in 
Greek, some parts of which may go back to the 
third century B.c. By whom was this literature 
composed, and for whom? Festugiére disposes 
effectively of the older view that there were 
Hermetic conventicles, for whom the Corpus 
Hermeticum constituted a devotional book, a 
theory which would not in any case account for 
the secular Hermetic writings. Hermetism was 



a literary phenomenon; there was no Hermetic 
“church.” Even the philosophical writings 
form a unity only by their attribution to 
Hermes, which gave them the prestige of a 
great name and the warrant of revelation; and 
there is nothing essential which distinguishes 
the occultism of Hermes from that of any 
other of the oriental prophets. Nor, apart from 
the settings and from certain elements in the 
astrological treatises, is there anything that is 
specifically Egyptian. The writings do not rep- 
resent the ancient priestly lore of Egypt. 
Whether, then, the actual authors were Hel- 
lenized native priests or Greeks resident in 
Egypt is relatively unimportant. 

Most of the remainder of the volume is a 
detailed consideration of those parts of the 
literature which deal with astrology and the 
occult sciences. Much of this is now fragmen- 
tary, and Festugiére’s task is, in part, one of 
reconstruction. Inevitably, much of the minute 
analysis which this entails will concern only 
the specialist. It is, however, an outstanding 
merit of the work that Festugiére never loses 
sight of the larger framework. And even the 
details are not without interest, in view of the 
fact that much of this material was held in 
esteem down through the Middle Ages and the 
Renaissance and was used by the occult prac- 
titioners, the Dr. Fausts, of those ages. 

The fundamental occult science was astrol- 
ogy. The others fall into three divisions: those 
in the fields of the natural sciences and medi- 
cine, alchemy, and magic. In the Hellenistic 
period it was chiefly works of astrology which 
were ascribed to Hermes. Festugiére gives a 
brief but illuminating account (pp. 89-101) of 
the principles of Hellenistic astrology, which 
he characterizes as an amalgam of a seductive 
philosophical theory, an absurd mythology, 
and scientific methods ingeniously misap- 
plied. Equally brilliant is the passage (pp. 
189-97) in which he contrasts the aims and 
methods of the Aristotelian scientists with 
those of the Hellenistic and Greco-Roman 
phystkot. Where Aristotelian science was dis- 
interested and speculative, the pseudo-sci- 
ences, on the contrary, were intensely practical 
and utilitarian; interest centered in mirabilia 
and in the occult properties of particular things 


by a knowledge of which men hoped to work 
their ends. And since these properties and af- 
finities could not be discovered save by revela- 
tion, the distinction between science and re- 
ligion finally disappeared. 

Analysis of the literary fictions employed 
(chap. ix) shows that the form used for the 
writings of occult Hermetism was one long cur- 
rent in Egypt and that from popular Herme- 
tism it was later adopted for the writings of 
philosophical Hermetism. A brief concluding 
chapter highlights some of the major results of 
the study. There are several appendixes, in- 
cluding one by Louis Massignon on Arabic 
Hermetic literature. 

The scholarly world owes a debt of grati- 
tude to Father Festugiére for undertaking a 
task as difficult as it has proved rewarding. 
All readers of this first volume will wish him 
success in the completion of his undertaking. 

Francis R. WALTON 
University of Minnesota 

The Intellectual Adventure of Ancient Man: An 
Essay on Speculative Thought in the Ancient 
Near East. By H. and H. A. FRANKFORT, 
WituraM A. Irwin. Chicago: University of 
Chicago Press, 1946. Pp. viit+401. $4.00. 

Aristotle says somewhere that the educated 
layman ought to be able to judge correctly the 
explanations given by specialists. This Aris- 
totelian assumption is the sole qualification of 
the reviewer to speak of this volume, written 
by eminent orientalists in the University of 
Chicago. The rather clumsy title conceals the 
importance of this symposium. Following, 
without being aware of it, as it seems, the 
Hellenistic idea that the “Barbarians” ut- 
tered their philosophy in myths, “in the man- 
ner of riddle” (Diog. Laert. Proem. 6), the au- 
thors try to understand oriental mythology as 
an interpretation of the cosmos. They explain 
to the general reader the conception of the 
world as expressed in oriental speculations 
about the nature of the universe, the functions 
of the state, and the values of life. Egypt, 
Mesopotamia, and the Hebrews, are dealt with 


by Wilson, Jacobsen, and Irwin, respectively, 
while Mrs. and Mr. Frankfort provide an “In- 
troduction” and a “Conclusion.” 

Any meager summary cannot do justice to 
the attraction of this new and learned ap- 
proach to the understanding of the ancient 
Near East. The volume is a sequence of inter- 
related interpretations and observations, 
which, together, give a new integrated view of 
the subject. Of course, you may pick up in this 
book the idea that the Egyptian cosmos, like 
the Nile Valley, “had limited space but re- 
assuring periodicity” (p. 60) and that in the 
Sumerian mythology the universe was con- 
ceived of as a state (p. 130); but such formulae 
do not reveal very much of the substance, let 
us say, of sixty pages describing “The Cosmos 
as a State.” Let us rather quote the book at 
random. We read, for instance, that “with 
relation to gods and men, the Egyptians were 
monophysites: many men and many gods, but 
all ultimately of one nature” (p. 66). Is it ac- 
cidental that the monophysite doctrine, con- 
founding the divine and human natures in 
Christ, was rooted in Egypt and has remained 
the belief of the Coptic church? In the admi- 
rable chapter on “the values of life,” as seen 
by the Egyptians (pp. 93-119), a historian is 
pleased to discover how the same topic was 
dealt with in two different phases of Egyptian 
civilization. An earlier writer stresses the fact 
that even the wise men, Imhotep and Hardedef, 
have passed away, “as if they had never been” 
(p. 104). A later author answers that these 
wise men “are gone and forgotten, but their 
names, through [their] writing cause them to 
be remembered.” He adds: “Books of Wis- 
dom were their pyramids” (p. 118). If I am 
not mistaken, that is the earliest occurrence of 
the Horatian exegi monumentum. Like the ode 
of Horace, the Egyptian thought of a writer’s 
immortality is fundamentally different from 
the Greek conception that the bards keep alive 
the memory of heroes and their deeds. One 
would like to know how this new attitude to 
literature was connected with the profound 
change in the whole outlook of the Egyptian 
of the later age, who was now required “to 
emphasize his conformance to the national 
patterns of obedience” (p. 114). The Sumerian 

—e _— of =| SS ee 

oo = > me fF. © es of (3 otf 

—_ -—> 

Da pa = aS TT DlUlC hl crelCUr OlC ACCC OU! 


ike Van ee ek ae ae al “es 

Boox REvIEws 59 

myths, on the other hand, show that obedience 
to authority was regarded as a principal virtue 
from the very beginning of the Mesopotamian 
civilization (p. 202). One understands that the 
nonconformism of Hebrew prophets and Greek 
philosophers would have been out of place be- 
tween the Tigris and the Euphrates or on the 
banks of the Nile. 

According to the authors, the basis of think- 
ing in the ancient Near East was the concep- 
tion of the phenomenal world as a “Thou.” 
The distinction between subjective and objec- 
tive, or our contrast between reality and ap- 
pearance, was meaningless for the Ancient 
Man. He did not know impersonal and me- 
chanical causality. “The primitive man simply 
does not know an inanimate world” (p. 5). I 
am afraid that, even in this new metamorpho- 
sis, the “animistic” or “prelogical” man of 
anthropological theories will still appear to the 
reader as a fiction produced by modern schol- 
ars. To put it bluntly: A man for whom the dif- 
ference between an act and a symbolic per- 
formance was meaningless (p. 12) never walked 
on the face of the earth. Macaulay humorously 
describes how even a plain man, who never 
heard of Bacon, nevertheless uses the Baconian 
rules of induction when he wishes to discover 
the dish which has provoked indigestion. Like- 
wise, a caveman already used the logical prin- 
ciple of contradiction; he knew that a stone, 
which had just missed his enemy, cannot be 
and not be at the same time in his hand. In 
Mesopotamia “it was thought possible for a 
man to achieve partial identity with other 
gods and thus share in their natures and abili- 
ties” (p. 133). But the man who identified his 
neck with “the necklace of the goddess Ninlil’”’ 
surely continued to protect his body with a 
shield in a skirmish. The charm could protect 
him only from attacks by witchcraft (p. 133). 
In so far as the “mythopoeic” thought was not 
fabricated and propagated for the benefit of 
the rulers of the society (e.g., p. 80: the power 
of the Pharaoh to control the Nile), it existed 
in the ancient world, as it does in our own be- 
liefs, just to the extent of the unknown. The 
Edwin Smith Medical Papyrus contains very 
rational prescriptions of an Egyptian surgeon 
in forty-seven cases of wounds and fractures 

of intelligible origin. But the same physician 
quotes a charm in the forty-eighth case, where 
the cause of injury is unknown to him. An 
Egyptian text admirably defines the essence of 
the ‘“mythopoeic” idea. God, the Creator of 
all, says the Egyptian, “made for men magic 
as weapon to ward off [evil] events” (A. 
Gardiner, Jour. Egypt. Arch., 1914, p. 34). So 
far as Ancient Man was able to exercise con- 
trol over his environment, for him as for 
“modern, scientific man” the phenomenal 
world was “primarily an ‘It’” (p. 4). The 
builders of the Pyramids did not treat stones 
as living persons. Generally speaking, the au- 
thors of the symposium too easily succumb to 
the modern myth that Ancient Man must 
have been an irrational and mystic being. The 
Egyptians put in the tombs model loaves of 
bread made of wood. That is presented as a 
proof of the thesis that “to the ancient Egyp- 
tian the elements of the universe were consub- 
stantial” (p. 63). What about the metaliic 
wreaths we lay on the tombs? Does that mean 
that we believe in the principle of substitution 
and, besides, suppose that the dead retain a 
taste for fragrance? As a penetrating French 
sociologist, fallen in this war, put it: “To him- 
self man appears as a technicist, to the others 
as a creator of rites’ (Charles Le Coeur, Le 
Rite et Voutil [Paris: Alcan, 1939], p. 62). But 
is it really necessary to belabor the. point after 
Bergson’s unforgettable pages on the function 
of “extra-mechanical” causality in our life? 
The scientific thought, the speculation in 
which myth was overcome in principle, was, of 
course, created by the Ionian philosophers in 
the sixth century B.c. The “Conclusion”’ of the 
symposium eloquently restates this fact, and a 
Hellenist is naturally pleased to lay stress on 
this homage paid to the Greek spirit. But in 
this stimulating chapter on the “Emancipation 
of Thought from Myth” (pp. 363-88), I miss a 
hint that the Miletus of Thales, Anaximander, 
and Anaximenes was a dependency of Lydia; 
that Heraclitus was subject of Darius of Per- 
sia; that for Xenophanes the appearance of the 
Medi in Ionia (that is 546 B.c.) was an event 
of contemporary history. Ionian craftsmen 
worked for Nebuchadnezzar and at Babylon 
rubbed shoulders with Egyptians and Indians, 

60 Book Reviews 

Jews and Elamites. Greek intellectuals gath- 
ered at the court of Croesus. Since Aramaic, by 
which the peoples of the Near East com- 
municated from the seventh century on, was 
used also in Lydia, it is inconceivable that the 
Ionians should have remained ignorant of 
oriental knowledge. We have learned recently 
that medical observations of Egyptian physi- 
cians found their way into the Hippocratic 
corpus (E. Iversen, “Papyrus Carlsberg No. 
VIII,” Det Kgl. Danske Videnskabernes Sels- 
kab, Hist.-fil. Meddelelser, Vol. XXVI, No. 5 
{1939].) Thales may never have sat at the feet 
of Egyptian teachers, but the Egyptian priest 
who claimed an Egyptian source for Thales’ 
idea that water is the origin of things (Plut. 
De Is. et Os. 34) had more historical sense than 
these modern skeptics who deny the possibility 
of such dependence. The Ionian philosophers 
were also, and before all, technicians and scien- 
tists. They could not fail, for instance, to learn 
astronomy from the Babylonians and the 
Egyptians, who, as Aristotle says (De caelo 
292 a), had watched the stars from the re- 
motest times. But for the Egyptians, Nun was 
the primordial waters out of which life came 
(p. 45); for the Mesopotamians, Marduk cre- 
ated the cosmos from the primeval waters. 
Thales replaced gods by material causes. ‘“The 
astonishing novelty” (p. 378) of his approach 
may be more easily understood if we remem- 
ber that the gods he left out of the cosmogony 
were not his gods. In Babylonia, cosmic myths 
were a part of the ritual; in Greece, Hesiodic 
cosmogony was Hesiod’s private speculation. 
If Thales depended on oriental sources, he 
could not help dropping out of his speculation 
Nun, Marduk, ete., who were for him but 
names void of meaning. In the same way the 
names of planets were changed in Greek. 
“Nabu” became “a star of Hermes” (F. Cu- 
mont, Ant. Cl., 1935, p. 11), since the Greeks 
did not worship the celestial bodies. The 
Greeks made use of oriental knowledge but 
separated it from oriental myths because the 
Gods acting in these myths were aliens. 

Euias J. BlcKERMAN 

Ecole Libre des Hautes Etudes 
New York 

The Odes of Pindar. Translated by RicHMonp 
Lattimore. Chicago: University of Chicago 
Press, 1947. Pp. xii+170. $2.75. 

The “trend toward materialism’’ is notori- 
ously pulling North American culture away 
from classical studies. Far less often deplored 
is its potency within the circle of those studies 
themselves: classicists are far more usually 
archeologists than they are students of litera- 
ture; and Greek poetry today wins hardly 
more real appreciation from scholars than 
poetry in general finds among the Philistines. 
For this reason Professor Lattimore’s transla- 
tion deserves welcome, because each new book 
on Pindar increases the likelihood that some 
young student may desire to know and love the 
most glorious lyrics ever sung. 

But, alas, with utter good will and the most 
vigorous sympathy for a fellow-Pindarist, I 
can see scarcely any other reason for publish- 
ing this book. Written in vers libre, it naturally 
lacks the poetical charm of (for example) 
Billson’s rendering into rhymed verse; and it 
does not attain the exactness of Sandys’ prose 
version. Nor is it remarkably good as vers 
libre. To be sure, it surpasses most of the com- 
positions in that medium which are being put 
forth nowadays. But that is no prodigious 
feat. Vers libre has degenerated into a con- 
venient device for scribblers too lazy or incom- 
petent to make the effort demanded by rhyme 
and verse-rhythm. No doubt some fine com- 
positions have been so written: Matthew 
Arnold’s Strayed Reveller and the most char- 
acteristic of Robinson Jeffers’ works are mas- 
terpieces. But—to be pedantic in a good 
cause—the moment sooner or later arrives 
when one contemplates these successes with a 
certain ruefulness, since their power and skill 
conceal the fact, which otherwise must have 
been clear from the outset, that vers libre is 
humbug—not a true literary form at all but 
merely imaginative prose chopped into arbi- 
trary lengths. How does Arnold’s poem differ 
from his magical prose translation of Maurice 
de Guérin’s Centaur? | 

Considered purely as a book of vers libre, 
Professor Lattimore’s work (I repeat) stands 
far above the contemporary ruck. But it is 4 
translation, and in this respect shows grave 

for 7 
ing ] 

ll. ¢ 
it is 
do a 
up { 
its 0 

the | 


wore OTrlCUhUrOlltC 

weaknesses. This much, after all, can be said 
for vers libre translation, that, since you have 
bidden both rhyme and verse-rhythm good- 
bye, you are so unfettered that you can keep no 
less close to your original than if you were writ- 
ing prose (as, in fact, you are). But again and 
again our translator diverges from Pindar— 
though, I admit, only in details. A good ex- 
ample awaits us on the threshold (Ol. 1. 1): 
apiorov ev Vowp, “best of all things is water.” 
Why “of all things’? Some have held that 
Pindar has in mind the doctrine of Thales and 
means “best of the elements.” This is doubtful 
but should warn us against inserting, here or 
elsewhere, comment in a translation. In Pyth. 
11. 35, véa kepada becomes “young head of a 
kingdom,”’ the last phrase being inserted and 
untrue. Such things, though I would lay little 
stress on each, are too numerous. Further, one 
often looks in vain for help in passages which 
itis hard, perhaps impossible, to translate ade- 
quately. (This brings up the whole question 
whether Pindar can be translated at all, on 
which I have said quite enough elsewhere, and 
which I refuse to employ as a cudgel upon Pro- 
fessor Lattimore.) Having myself made a big 
effort in vain, I should have been immensely 
grateful for a good version of that magnificent 
phrase (Pyth. 4. 295) @updv éxddc8at mpos Bar. 
But “give over his heart to gladness” will not 
do at all. Way’s attempt at least renders 7Bav: 
“yield his heart to the joyance of youthful- 
ness.” In Nem. 1.1, Gumrvevpa ceuvov ’Addeod 
presents another kind of difficulty. As a Fresh- 
man I heard Sandys recite by instalments his 
version of Pindar and clearly remember my 
distress at “Sacred spot where Alpheus came 
up to breathe.” But Professor Lattimore’s 
“Grave child of the waters of Alpheus’’ is in 
its own way no less objectionable. It exempli- 
fies, moreover, another weakness (which, by 
the bye, is perhaps the only serious recurring 
fault of Sandys’ translation)—that curse of 
English prose, the repeated “of.” A strong 
instance occurs in this version at Nem. 10. 90: 

wa 6° é\vcev pev ddOadpor, erecta b€ dwvav 

xadkouitpa Kdoropos. 

“But he set free from darkness the eyes of 
Kastor of the brazen belt, and his voice there- 



after.” Would it not be easy, and better, to 
write “But he set free the eyes, and thereafter 
the voice, of bronze-belted Kastor”? Indeed, 
anyone who essays to translate Greek poetry 
into English must make a special point of col- 
lecting, and inventing, compound words. 

Despite all this, Professor Lattimore does at 
least give us the feel of the Pindarie diction— 
the sense that our fingers are passing over silk, 
not velvet as in Billson, or linen as in Way, or 
tweed as in Sandys. Let me offer him some 
amends by quoting a passage (Nem. 8. 22-34) 
that shows this merit: 

It was this that slaughtered the son of Telamon 

and bent him over his own sword. 

A quiet man, no talker, steadfast of heart, lies 

in the rage of dispute. The great prize is given 
to the supple liar. 

In their secret ballots the Danaans made much 
of Odysseus, 

and Aias lost the golden armor and died strug- 
gling in his own blood. 

In truth, otherwise were the gashes that in the 

they tore in the warm flesh of their adversaries 

under the spears of defense about Achilles’ body, 

in many another combat of those wasting 

days. But hate, even then, was there with its 

It walks companion of beguiling words; it is sly 
and a spite that makes evil; 

it violates the beautiful and brilliant 

to lift up out of things obscure a glory rotten at 
the heart. 

GILBERT Norwoop 
University of Toronto 

Currency in Roman and Byzantine Egypt. By 
Louis C. West and ALLAN CHESTER JOHN- 
son. (“Princeton University Studies in 
Papyrology,” No. 5.) Princeton: Princeton 
University Press, 1944. Pp. ix+195. $3.00. 
The authors of this valuable monograph 

bring an unusually happy combination of tal- 

ents to bear upon an exceedingly difficult task. 

Dr. West contributes an exact knowledge of 

ancient coins and a banker’s practical experi- 

ence in the handling and circulation of money, 
while Professor Johnson is an eminent papy- 
rologist and a recognized authority on ancient 

62 Boox REvIEws 

economic problems. The result is a work of 
prime importance to students of papyri, of 
numismatics, and of the economic history of 
ancient Egypt. This work is not a history of 
Egyptian coinage from Augustus to Justinian, 
though it is a fundamental study for anyone 
who undertakes such a history; but it aims 
primarily to elucidate the evidence available 
in the papyri regarding monetary terms and 
methods of accounting in the light of the ac- 
tually existing means of making payment in 
cash, and it discusses a number of problems 
that arise in determining what these were. 

In the period from Augustus to Diocletian 
the monetary system of Egypt was virtually 
isolated. Though much gold and silver must 
have passed through the country, both in coins 
and as bullion, in the trade with the East and 
though her lively export trade must have 
brought much to her borders, the imperial 
gold and silver coinage did not circulate gen- 
erally within them; nor did Egyptian currency 
circulate beyond them. Moreover, it remained 
a fiduciary currency. In the first two chapters 
the authors trace the development of the 
“silver” coinage in billon tetradrachms from 
its organization by Tiberius, the fixing of a 
bronze standard in relation to it, and show 
how the premium for conversion between 
silver and bronze, which was usual also outside 
of Egypt (see at Pergamum, JGRP, IV, 352) 
led to the establishment of a regular tariff of 
27-29 obols the tetradrachm. Two incidental 
points may here be noted. First, on page 4 it is 
suggested that the reason why Caracalla 
abruptly discontinued in 214 all issues of 
“silver” and bronze from the Alexandrian mint 
was perhaps his introduction of the antoninia- 
nus, “although there is no evidence that this 
coin ever circulated in Egypt.” Is it possible 
that his action was connected with the events 
which induced him to take such a bloody re- 
venge upon the youth of Alexandria the follow- 
ing year (D.C. lxxyiii. 22-23; Herodian iv. 6. 1, 
and ix. 1-8; see Rostovtzeff, SEHRE, p. 483 
[Ital. ed.])? Second, on page 24 it is noted that, 
while local subsidiary coinage in most of the 
Empire ended abruptly under Gallienus, there 
appears in Egypt to be a gradual disintegra- 
tion of the system after Antoninus Pius, 

Egypt’s monetary isolation makes it difficult 
to apply here Bosch’s explanation (Arch. Anz., 
1931, pp. 437 f.) that the debasement of the 
imperial silver coinage made it no longer 
profitable to issue local bronze; nor did the 
debasement of the Egyptian tetradrachm un- 
der Marcus Aurelius go that far (see p. 11 and 
Table II). Moreover, according to Tables IV 
and V, the process seems to involve the cessa- 
tion of the bronze issues of the smallest size 
(identification of the denominations remains 
somewhat uncertain [see p. 25]), while in the 
same period price levels were rising (pp. 
80 ff.). Possibly the smallest units became 
unnecessary either as small change or for the 
payment of taxes. 

Chapters iii and iv deal with special terms, 
the AI KAT formula and PTITAPAI, respec- 
tively, while chapters v and vi document fully, 
from the papyri, accounting practices and cal- 
culations and monetary terms and co-ordinate 
the evidence with the coinage itself. The brief 
listing of hoards in chapter vii is little more 
than a supplement to earlier work. In chapters 
viii and ix the authors turn to the larger eco- 
nomic problems of price levels and of exchange 
outside Egypt. There are examples enough to 
indicate that prices rose gradually but steadily 
during the period, that taxes in money rose 
very little, and yet the producers who should 
have profited by this .condition were evidently 
in increasing distress. The explanation, the au- 
thors believe, is that taxes in kind must have 
become much greater than before. The ex- 
change necessary to pay tribute to Rome and 
to purchase necessary imports was amply pro- 
vided by exports, and it is clear that in case of 
difficulty the government would intervene to 
regulate the price of gold. Hence the authors’ 
discussion of the special conditions that caused 
a drop in the price of gold at Alexandria in 113 
(pp. 90 ff.) and of the silver bullion at Coptos 
in 117 is particularly welcome. 

The remaining chapters deal with the pe- 
riod after Diocletian, when Egyptian isolation 
ended and the history of Egyptian currency 
becomes a chapter in the history of that of the 
Empire. In this section, too, the authors’ meth- 
od of confronting the terms and numbers in the 
papyri with the facts of the coinage brings il- 

Boox REvIEws 63 

luminating results. Specially to be noted is 
the conclusion that, once the new coinage in 
gold was established, the apparent inflation of 
the bronze coinage was merely a matter of 
terminology, since prices in terms of the solidus 
and its fractions varied little. A useful set of 
tables and a convenient selection of documents 
complete the work. Flaws in text and book- 
making seem few. I note duAaxwy on page 33, 
be for the on page 53, and find grams am- 
biguous at first glance on page 109. 

Bryn Mawr College 

Les Métaphores de Platon. By Pierre Louts. 
(“Collection d’études anciennes,” publiée 
sous le patronage de |l’Association Guil- 
laume Budé.) Paris: Société d’Edition “Les 
Belles Lettres,” 1945. Pp. xxii+269. Fr. 

In this careful listing and analysis of Plato’s 
metaphors, M. Louis begins his Introduction 
with an attempt to define metaphor, mentions 
Aristotle’s definition in the Poetics and its gen- 
eral acceptance by the ancient world, and 
quotes several modern definitions, including 
that of W. Bedell Stanford (who appears once 
as “W. Beddel Stanford” and twice as “W. B. 
Stranford”’): “The essence of affective [sic] 
metaphor is a clear and definite understanding 
of the two constituent ideas incorporated in 
the metaphorical term, together with an appre- 
ciation of the new concept integrated from 
those constituent ideas.” M. Louis feels that 
this definition is too close to Plato’s definition 
of the paradeigma in Politicus 278 C. He goes 
on to distinguish between metaphor and sim- 
ile: the second part of a simile can be de- 
tached while the metaphor is essential to the 
sense of the phrase. 

In his discussion of the difference between 
metaphor and paradeigma, M. Louis has cor- 
rectly noted that the latter is not merely a 
stylistic device but a philosophical concept; it 
would have been of interest had he noted the 
discussion of, and emphasis on, this aspect of 
paradeigma which Jaeger, for example (Pai- 
deia, 1, 31-33, 215-17, 239-40), makes; but this 

work is generally confined to the metaphor. 
He notices Plato’s predilection for metaphors 
drawn from man and human activities, from 
animals, plants, and natural phenomena and 
Plato’s tendency to describe philosophical in- 
quiry as a journey or a voyage. It would also 
have been interesting to trace the source of 
these metaphors, which in Plato sometimes 
seem to have more significance than that of a 
mere commonplace. Plato’s interest in or- 
dinary human activities is compared and con- 
trasted with that of Homer and the tragedians. 
M. Louis remarks: “L’emploi métaphorique 
d’un mot nous renseigne moins sur la mentalité 
de l’écrivain que sur celle du milieu social dans 
lequel il a vécu” (pp. 12-13). But why did 
Plato use particular metaphors, especially 
when some of them are extended throughout a 
complete work? 

M. Louis indicates the traditional method 
of treatment of Plato’s metaphors—according 
to the domain from which they are borrowed. 
He goes on: “Quiconque les étudie, s’apercoit 
vite qu’elles ne sont pas de simples ornements, 
mais qu’elles sont toutes destinées 4 exprimer- 
des idées mieux que ne le ferait un long dé- 
veloppement” (p. 14). His own plan, then, is 
to group the metaphors according to the ideas 
which they express. Living metaphors and 
commonplaces are distinguished, although the 
distinction often seems largely subjective. 

Then the metaphors are studied. First come 
those which describe “1’activité intellectuelle” ; 
those which describe dialectic (the author 
seems influenced throughout by A. Diés, to 
whom the work is inscribed and whose defini- 
tion of dialectic, “l’art 4 chercher 4 deux, 
c’est-a-dire de penser 4 deux,” is here adopted) ; 
those which describe “le discourse’’—the 
speaker “molds” or “weaves” or “carves out” 
the argument. Remarks on the sources of the 
metaphors are generally drawn from A. L. 
Keith’s Simile and Metaphor in Greek Poetry 
from Homer to Aeschylus. 

The second part of the work takes up “La 
Doctrine” under the headings “man,” “the 
soul,” “the theory of knowledge,” “moral 
principles,” “social life,’ “God and the uni- 
verse.”’ Under “the theory of knowledge” are 
discussed the metaphors which describe the de- 

64 Book REvIEWws 

grees of knowledge: ignorance as a “‘disease”’ 
and the other medical metaphors. 

M. Louis’s conclusion is simply that there is 
little invention in Plato’s metaphors; many are 
traditional; his originality is rather “l’art in- 
comparable avec lequel il renouvelle et trans- 
figure des images usuelles’”’ (p. 175). All images 
cannot be reduced to a single formula; some 
are inevitable; spiritual things can be de- 
scribed only by a transfer of words which apply 
originally to material things. Some metaphors 
take their origin in a trait of character, as those 
which employ a play upon words (soma, sema) 
begin in the desire for humor. Sometimes the 
metaphor has particular reference to the topic 
under discussion, as the metaphor of harmony 
in the Phaedo. The metaphor is never merely 
a stylistic device; like the paradeigma, its func- 
tion is that of a real argument: “‘ce sont ... de 
véritables arguments, et les meilleurs qui 
soient, puisqu’ils sont sensibles” (p. 181). 

A lengthy Appendix catalogues metaphors 
and similes according to the fields from which 
they are borrowed, with an additional list of 
“souvenirs mythologiques, historiques et lit- 
teraires”; there are indexes of Platonic pas- 
sages cited, of other authors and of Greek 
words; pre-Platonic instances of particular 
metaphors are listed fairly completely in foot- 
notes. The book is bound in paper, and the 
typography is good for a wartime product. 
There are typographical inaccuracies on pages 
xix, Xx, xxi, and xxii of the introductory bib- 
liography and two on page 4, note 17. 

Epmunp G. Berry 
University of Manitoba 

The American Numismatic Society Museum 
Notes, Vol. I (1945). New York. Issued an- 
nually. Pp. 106423 Pls. $1.50. 

The need for an American scholarly periodi- 
cal intended primarily for articles and notes of 
less than monographic extent has long been felt 
in the numismatic field. Numismatic Review, 
under the able editorship of Professor Thomas 
OQ. Mabbott, has for the past several years in 
part met the want. The publication in 1946 of 
the inaugural volume of Museum Notes prom- 

ises now to fill this gap in American numis- 
matic literature and adds a welcome com- 
panion to the two distinguished series of the 
American Numismatic Society, “Numismatic 
Notes and Monographs” and “Numismatic 

As its name implies, Museum Notes is con- 
cerned chiefly with coins and numismatic prob- 
lems connected with the valuable collections in 
the museum of the society and its acquisitions 
during the year preceding publication. Con- 
tributions on topics unrelated to the museum 
also appear, however, in Volume I, and more 
are promised in future volumes. 

The major portion of the present volume is 
devoted to Greek and Roman coins. This fact 
—an added recommendation to classicists— 
reflects the relatively ampler provisions that 
have been made by the friends of the society 
for the acquisition of Greek and Roman coins 
rather than any predisposal on the part of the 
society or its staff, which prepared the current 
volume, to favor the coinage of antiquity. 

A brief Introduction to the new volume by 
the past president of the society, Herbert E. 

- Ives, is followed by six articles on ancient 

coins. Sydney P. Noe writes of the Greek ac- 
quisitions in 1945, prefacing their description 
with an illuminating discussion of the chronol- 
ogy of the late tetradrachms of Abydus. Agnes 
Baldwin Brett contributes an article on the 
coins of Ake-Ptolemais issued by the Seleucid 
rulers from Seleucus IV to Tryphon, which is 
based on her examination of the Seleucid coins 
in the collection of the Newell Bequest. A. R. 
Reilinger makes the acquisition of an octuple 
of Timarchus, who revolted against Demetrius 
I of Syria in 162 B.c. and ruled until his death 
in 160, the occasion for an excellent summary 
of what is at present known concerning the 
rare coinage of this ruler. Aline Abaecherli 
Boyce, in connection with a newly acquired 
medallion of Caracalla, brilliantly traces the 
use of the symbols of state cult on imperial 
coinage to designate the presumptive succes- 
sor. Louis C. West offers convincing evidence 
that “computations in terms of weights used 
by the Romans themselves would produce 
more accurate and satisfactory results than 
have been reached by defining the standards in 

Boox REvIEws 65 

terms of grains or grammes.” This unit for 
gold was the carat or siliqua. Sawyer McA. 
Mosser contributes an interesting note on four 
very finely preserved Roman medallions and a 
large bronze of Apamea in Phrygia acquired 
by the society in 1945 which once formed part 
of the collection of the Vicomte de Sartiges. 

In the section devoted to medieval and 
modern coins, Herbert E. Ives publishes addi- 
tions to the list of imitations of the English 
noble published in his Foreign Imitations of the 
English Noble. John L. Dresser describes two 
rare European coins—a Salzburg 10-kreuzer 
“Klippe” of 1583 and a gold gulden of the 
Count of the Palatinate, Louis IV (1486-49)— 
which have recently been added to the so- 
ciety’s collection. Robert I. Nesmith is the 
author of one of the longer articles of the cur- 
rent volumes, a study of Lima and Potosf silver 
8-reale “cob” pieces which formed part of a 
considerable hoard discovered recently in 
Lima. The size of the lot, which numbers 190 
coins—40 Lima and 145 Potosi pieces—and 
the rarity of such discoveries lend particular 
interest to this masterly article. The section is 
concluded with a brief table of identification 
of the miscellaneous accessions illustrated on 
Plates XXII and XXIII. 

The oriental section consists of a brief ar- 
tice by Mehmet Aga-Oblu on the nature of 
the alloy of the dirhams struck in Bukhara 
during the administration of Ghitrif ibn >Ata 
al Kindi (792-93) which are called after his 
name, ghitrifi. 

The volume is concluded with a brief de- 
scription by William L. Clark of the Ballantine 
Bequest of Decorations, consisting of 107 deco- 
rations, made to the society by Lt. John H. 
Ballantine, Jr., who was killed in action in 
December, 1944, in the Pacific. 

In size and format, Museum Notes is identi- 
cal with “Numismatic Notes and Mono- 
graphs.” The quality of its twenty-three plates 
is of the same high standard with which 
readers of the society’s publications have long 
been familiar. These plates should do much 
toward fulfilling the hope expressed by Mr. 
Ives in the Introduction that Museum Notes 
would better acquaint the society’s member- 
ship with the extent and character of the mu- 

seum’s acquisitions. The distinguished scholar- 
ship of the notes and articles that accompany 
them will make this initial volume of Museum 
Notes a welcome addition to every numis- 
matist’s library. The American Numismatic 
Society and its staff have cause to be proud of 
their new publication. 

Hunter College 

St. Augustine: The First Catechetical Instruc- 
tion. Translated by JosepH P. CuHrisTo- 
PHER. (“Ancient Christian Writers,” edited 
Piumpe, No. 2.) Westminster, Md.: New- 
man Bookshop, 1946. Pp. vi+171. $2.50. 
The present volume is an adaptation and 

revision of the author’s larger work, a doctoral 

dissertation which appeared in 1926 as Volume 

VIII of the “Catholic University of America 

Patristic Series.” That volume presented the 

Latin text of Augustine’s De catechizandis 

rudibus, with an English translation and 217 

pages of commentary, besides elaborate Bib- 

liography, Introduction, and indexes. Most re- 
viewers greeted it with approval—“a model of 

how the thing should be done” (A. Souter); “a 

genuine contribution to patristic study... . 

commentary full and learned throughout ... . 

translation close and accurate” (E. H. Blake- 

ney); “destiné 4 rendre de grands services” 

(L. Rochus); “eine sehr verdienstliche Leis- 

tung....eine reiche Fille von Erklirungs- 

mittel” (C. Weyman). 

The present volume omits the Latin text 
and the Bibliography and reduces the com- 
mentary to 59 pages. The additions and correc- 
tions seem to be few and are of minor impor- 
tance. The mistakes which are retained are, I 
believe, more numerous than the corrections. 
Among others I notice these: 

Page 5: “This treatise is therefore unique 
inasmuch as it embodies both a manual for the 
catechist and a catechesis for the prospective 
catechumen.” But, as De Labriolle pointed out 
in his review of the dissertation (Rev. de phil., 
II, 393), it is not intended for the catechumen 
at all. Dr. Christopher, apparently in defer- 
ence to his eminent critic, has changed the 

66 Boox REVIEWS 

wording of his sentence without clearly cor- 
recting his error. 

Page 95, note 14: “‘The idea of the soul being 
imprisoned in the body is both Platonic and 
Christian.” But Augustine expressly repudi- 
ates the doctrine of Plato and the Neo- 
Platonists on this point (Civ. xii. 27; for dis- 
cussion and further references see J. Maus- 
bach, Die Ethik des hl. Augustinus, I?, 161 f.). 

Page 97, note 27: “The ancient book was a 
roll of parchment.” In classical times the usual 
book was a papyrus roll. But from the time of 
Martial the parchment codex, or leaf-book, 
began to be used and by Augustine’s time had 
become the usual form. For discussion and 
references see C. C. McCown, ‘‘Codex and Roll 
in the New Testament,” in Harv. Theol. Rev., 
XXIV (1941), 219-50. But the involucrum, 
mentioned here by Augustine, is not a book 
of any sort but rather the wrapping or cover- 
ing in which a book or other object was carried. 
In the passage here cited from Cicero (refer- 
ence should be corrected to read De orat. i. 35. 
161) involucra and integumenta are evidently 

Page 106, note 76: “Augustine is here refer- 
ring to the Donatists.” The reference is ob- 
viously to the crowds of drunkards, gamblers, 
adulterers, and other depraved persons who 
“fill the churches.” In another section (p. 79) 
the same classes are more specifically said to be 
“in the Catholic Church herself.” 

Page 123, note 175: “According to the mil- 
lenarian doctrine,....of which Augustine 
was a champion at the time when he wrote this 
treatise, there are seven millennia, or epochs of 
world history, each lasting a thousand years.” 
But Augustine’s epochs, beginning with Adam, 
Noah, Abraham, David, Babylonian captivity, 
and Christ, did not each last a thousand years. 
Elsewhere (Gen. c. Manich. i. 42) he mentions 
their inequality. 

More might be said of the commentary. 
Many of the notes are trivial. For example, the 
reader is briefly informed that evangelium 
means “gospel,” catholicus means “catholic, 
orthodox,” ete. (nn. 25, 77, 91, 286, etc.). But 
criticism of such points as these properly be- 
longs to the original dissertation, with which 
interested scholars have long been familiar. 

This'series of;translations is intended rather to 
invite the attention of a larger number of read- 
ers to the ancient Christian writers. For those 
readers this commentary, with its copious quo- 
tation of Latin and Greek and frequent refer- 
ence to learned works, would seem a gratuitous 
display of erudition. A reviewer of the first vol- 
ume of the series (Class. Bull., November, 
1946, p. 10) suggests that such a commentary 
“is a means, on the omne ignotum pro magnifico 
principle, of stirring up interest in the classical 
languages.” If this is actually the purpose, per- 
haps no classicist should quarrel with it, but 
doubt may still remain about the method. 

The translation is close and generally ac- 
curate. But the casual reader will hardly be 
attracted by its style. Sentences of ponderous 
length everywhere preserve the structure of 
Augustine’s Latin, with ‘“wherefores” and 
“whomsoevers” which often suggest the tone 
of the seventeenth-century Bible translations. 
Both Catholic and Protestant translators are 
today offering the Bible in the sentence struc- 
ture of the twentieth century—cannot the 
same be done for the Fathers? F. J. Sheed has 
been bold enough to defy precedent and give 
us a fluent translation of the Confessions. It is 
to be hoped that future translators of this 
series will show a similar boldness. 

WiuraM M. GREEN 
University of California 

Etudes sur Cicéron. By Martin VAN DEN 
BruwaEne. Brussels: L’Edition Univer- 
selle, S.A., n.d. [1946]. Pp. 111. 

In the four studies which make up this 
slender volume, Bruwaene, who is already 
known for his La Théologie de Cicéron (Lou- 
vain, 1937), undertakes to explain the genius 
of Cicero by demonstrating his concern for law 
and justice and his oratorical gifts. The evi- 
dence, chiefly Cicero’s own writings, is handled 
skilfully, the argument is closely reasoned, and 
the result is an apotheosis of Cicero. 

In the first essay Bruwaene discusses the 
problem of the restitution of the dowry to 
Cicero’s former wife, Terentia, and attempts to 
reconcile Roman law concerning cautio ret 


Book REvVIEws 67 

ucoriae with Cicero’s own remarks on his 
domestic situation. From a careful analysis of 
Roman law and Cicero’s own correspondence 
appertaining not only to Terentia but also to 
his later divorce from Publilia and the divorce 
of his daughter, Bruwaene concludes that 
Roman law at this period did not give a precise 
ruling in matters affecting the restitution of 
dowry. It should be noted, however, that E. 
Costa (Cicerone giureconsulto (2d ed.; Bologna, 
1927], I, 59-62, 221, n. 2) and H. F. Jolowicz 
(Historical Introduction to the Study of Roman 
Law [Cambridge, 1932], pp. 243-44) indicate 
that the praetorian edict was quite clear in 
permitting suits for the recovery of dowry. 
That Cicero does not refer to such an edict can- 
not be used as an argumentum e silentio, for his 
letters on the subject seem evasive. Yet from 
these letters one gets the impression that 
Cicero was under a compulsion more cogent 
than his own sense of honor, and that compul- 
sion may well havebeen the praetorian edict. 

In his second essay Bruwaene examines the 
praetorian power and edict and the tradition 
of jurisprudence which was their basis. He con- 
trasts the misuse of the praetorian power by 
Verres in two cases concerning wills with 
Cicero’s judicious application of that power in 
the case of the Cypriote Salaminians. Cicero 
does, to be sure, emerge from his own account 
of this episode in his career as governor of 
Cilicia in a much more favorable light than did 
Verres in the earlier cases. In the end, however, 
Cicero was unwilling to antagonize Brutus by 
making a final ruling in favor of the provin- 
cials; and, by leaving the case for his successor 
to settle, he compromised in some measure the 
principles which he had insisted should guide 
Verres or the praetor generally. To argue, as 
Bruwaene does, that Cicero had found a subtle 
means of reconciling the demands of his con- 
science and the interests of Brutus is assuredly 
no defense. 

Bruwaene’s essay on Cicero’s idea of the 
princeps does not provide any very fresh in- 
sight on this familiar problem. Cicero’s well- 
known dependence upon Polybius receives too 
much emphasis. When Cicero acted, it was not 
merely because of what he found in a book but 
because he had actual experience and was feel- 

ing his way to the logical conclusion of his ob- 

In the final essay, which in its original lec- 
ture form was evidently intended for the edi- 
fication of the author’s lycée pupils, a compari- 
son is made of the careers and the qualities of 
Demosthenes and Cicero. Such a comparison 
was, of course, already drawn in antiquity by 
Plutarch. More original is an elaborate quanti- 
tative analysis of parallel passages in De- 
mosthenes and Cicero to show the coincidence 
of rhythm. The author seeks, finally, to prove 
that, while the two orators have much in com- 
mon, Cicero was a profound student of philoso- 
phy and a cultivated man, in contrast to De- 
mosthenes, who was ignorant of philosophy and 
a rougher diamond. 

In these essays Bruwaene has demonstrated 
those admirable virtues of industry and dili- 
gence which he commends in Demosthenes and 
Cicero. He has sought to illumine several of the 
facets of the versatile Cicero; but the light does 
not, despite the author’s industry and inten- 
tion, always burn brightly. 

Sotomon Katz 

University of Washington 

The Hymn to Demeter and Her Sanctuary at 
Eleusis. By GEorcE EMMANUEL MyYLonas. 
(“Washington University Studies, New 
Series, Language and Literature,” No. 13.) 
Pp. xii+99-+-5 figs. in text. St. Louis: Wash- 
ington University, 1942. Paper, $1.00. 

Few scholars could be as well qualified as 
Mylonas, a noted expert on prehistoric Greece 
and on Eleusis in particular, to write on the 
subject of this study. In it he presents the 
fruits of a comparison between the late Myce- 
naean remains at Eleusis and the topographi- 
cal passages in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, 
with evident gains to both archeology and lit- 
erary criticism. 

The author’s conclusions (in part anticipat- 
ed by his earlier publications) are summarized 
at the ends of chapters iii, iv, and v. They 
rest on two primary assumptions: that the 
Hymn was written by a poet who had a first- 
hand knowledge of Eleusinian landmarks, 
among them certain Mycenaean buildings; and 

68 Book REVIEWS 

that the poem, since its language reflects 
Mycenaean political and architectural condi- 
tions, “can be used with confidence as a guide 
to the remote architectural history of Eleusis” 
(p. 92). The late Helladic foundations on the 
Acropolis, west of the Roman building, are 
identified as a part of Keleos’ palace. “Mega- 
ron B,” found beneath the classical Telesterion 
(and beneath a late geometric apsidal struc- 
ture), is the temple ordered by Demeter. The 
well found at the northeast corner of the por- 
tico of Philon is the Kallichoron, above which 
the goddess wished her temple to be built; but 
its name was later transferred to the well be- 
side the greater Propylaea, identified as the 
Parthenion of the Homeric Hymn. The 
“Mirthless Rock,” not mentioned in the Hymn 
but known from later sources, is placed in 
front of the rock-cut platform just below the 
spur of Panaghitsa. , F 

Proof of these identifications is unfortunate- 
ly hindered by the nature of the evidence. The 
remains of palace and temple seem poor and 
small beside our expectations. May those 
structures not have vanished altogether in the 
frequent razing and rebuilding that went on at 
Eleusis? Similarly, the architectural passages 
in the poem appear to reflect stock Homeric 
formulas (ef. esp. 1. 186 with Od. i. 333, etc.) 
and must therefore be used with great caution 
as descriptions of actual buildings. As one re- 
viewer has already suggested (Welles, AJA, 
XLVI [1942], 468), they seem to argue the 
poet’s knowledge of Homer more forcibly than 
they show his acquaintance with the bronze- 
age topography of Eleusis (see also Fontenrose, 
AJP, LXV [1944], 293 f.; H. J. Rose, CR, 
LVII [1943], 36 f.; Carpenter, CW, XXXVI 
[1942-43], 117 f.). The chronological gap is 
most formidable. Would the foundations of 
“Megaron B” (cf. AJA, XL [1936], 275, Fig. 4) 
in fact have supported a building for five cen- 
turies? But Mylonas presents his arguments 
ingeniously and as effectively as his materials 
allow. Much, too, that is of value in the book 
does not depend on its main thesis. 

The text is accompanied by five figures 
showing topography and ground plans; and the 
book is well indexed. The writing, though easy 
to follow, seems diffuse and uneven, and there 

are some strangely transliterated Greek proper 
names. “Deme-trip” veterans will regret the 
mutilation of modern Attic place-names in the 
map, Figure 5 (prepared by a student). It is 
ungrateful, however, to dwell on these super- 
ficial flaws in a creditable and unpretentiously 
useful piece of research. An apology is due also 
for the lateness of this notice. The review copy 
of the book, mislaid and forgotten during the 
war, was only recently recovered from its 

D. A. Amyx 
University of California 

An Introduction to Linguistic Science. By Ep- 
Gar H. Srurtevant. New Haven: Yale 
University Press; London: Geoffrey Cum- 
berlege (Oxford University Press), 1947. 
Pp. x+173. $3.00. 

The book is a statement for the benefit of 
nonlinguists of the basic principles of the sci- 
ence of language. It presents in the simplest 
and the clearest terms both the opinions held 
by all linguists, and (with due warning) some 
of the questions about which the opinions of 
competent scholars are divided. 

The chapter headings will indicate suffi- 
ciently the topics treated: i, “Introductory” 
(pp. 1-8); ii, ‘Phonetics and Phonemics”’ (pp. 
9-18); iii, “The Relation of Writing to Speech” 
(pp. 19-29); iv, “Records of Speech” (pp. 30- 
39); v, “The Origin of Language” (pp. 40-50); 
vi, “Descriptive Linguistics” (pp. 51-64); 
vii, “The Empirical Basis of Phonetic Laws” 
(pp. 65-73); viii, “Why Are Phonetic Laws 
Regular?” (pp. 74-84); ix, “Assimilation and 
Dissimilation” (pp. 85-96); x, “Analogic Cre- 
ation” (pp. 96-109); xi, “Processes Sometimes 
Confused with Analogic Creation” (pp. 110- 
22); xii, “Change of Vocabulary” (pp. 123-32); 
xiii, “Change of Meaning” (pp. 133-41); 
xiv, “Borrowing” (pp. 142-53); xv, “The 
Comparative Method” (pp. 154-67); Index 
(pp. 169-73). 

My general opinion of the book can be ex- 
pressed best by a quotation: 

Thine is the charm of calm, good sense, 
Of steadfast views. 


Book REVIEWS 69 

The layman can rely confidently on the in- 
formation given him. The linguist—too wise 
to expect a revelation—will find some new ex- 
amples of processes familiar to him but will be 
still more interested to observe how neatly a 
most important service both to linguistics and 
to the community has been rendered. 

The attitude of the general public to lin- 
guistics is bad for both on two counts. 

Among the laity ignorance is almost univer- 
sal and to an extent that does not hold for 
other sciences. About 1890 there was still in 
Baltimore a man who repeatedly sought an op- 
portunity to maintain the flatness of the earth 
in a debate with Daniel C. Gilman. His pre- 
Magellan views were hopelessly outmoded and 
merely caused merriment tinged with pity. To- 
day it is doubtful that even one individual of 
that sort could be found in a community as en- 
lightened as (say) Princeton. The schools take 
such views out of the children at a very early 
age; but pre-Waterloo views about language 
are still inculeated by the schools, and the 
highest academic honors can be obtained with- 
out their elimination. They can be heard 
throughout the country at every turn. 

In the face of the other sciences the laity 
maintains a becoming reticence; but about 
language the less they know the more blatant 
they are: “Jeder Mensch, weil er spricht, 
glaubt tiber die Sprache sprechen zu kénnen.” 

A defense-mechanism—linguistics is so eso- 
teric—was long available to those whose con- 
science felt the need of salving. For its exist- 
ence linguists were themselves in part to 
blame. They saw their shortcomings, regret- 
ted them, but did nothing to make amends. 
The present book changes the situation entire- 
ly. The scientific standpoint is now available 
to all, and there is no longer any excuse for al- 
lowing a child to go as far as high school with 
pre-Waterloo ideas about language. 

Ohio State University 

The Hellenistic Civilization and East Rome: The 
James Bryce Memorial Lecture, 1945. By 
N. H. Baynes. London: Oxford University 
Press, 1946. Pp. 48. 1s. 6d. 

Professor Baynes presents this lecture as a 
“marginal note’ to Lord Bryce’s chapter on 
the East Roman Empire in the last edition of 
his Holy Roman Empire. It is, in fact, a keen 
analysis of significant aspects of Byzantine 
civilization by a champion of the strength of 
the Hellenic tradition in East Rome as op- 
posed to so-called “orientalizing’’ influences. 
In spite of the lack of interest which the Greeks 
displayed in their own Hellenistic period, 
Baynes regards the East Romans as the “in- 
tellectual heirs” of that neglected period. 

This heritage, he feels, is revealed particu- 
larly in certain characteristic intellectual and 
spiritual attitudes which mark the Byzantine 
way of life. One of these was the acceptance of 
the Hellenistic veneration of classical Greek 
literature, coupled with exaggerated respect 
for rhetoric, with a consequent deadening of 
intellectual initiative. In rejecting paganism 
the Christian Greeks did not give up the liter- 
ary heritage of the pagan past but made it a 
basic element in their Christian culture. The 
feeling of individual insecurity, which in the 
Hellenistic age led men to seek hope and sal- 
vation in Stoicism or the mystery religions, 
was also characteristic of the Late Roman Em- 
pire, where Christianity now provided a more 
effective spiritual refuge. Byzantine Christian- 
ity had also a concrete inheritance in the 
Septuagint translation of the Old Testament 
in the Hellenistic koiné, and the New Testa- 
ment written in that tongue. 

Politically, the Late Roman Empire ac- 
cepted the Hellenistic concept of autocratic 
monarchy. It also inherited a political problem 
arising from the failure of the Hellenistic 
Greeks to Hellenize the rural populations of 
the Syrian and Egyptian hinterlands. Signifi- 
cant also is the survival of the idea of contrast 
between Hellene and barbarian, although in a 
modified form. For the Hellenistic age, this 
contrast was purely cultural, based upon the 
Greek possession of a common civilization in- 
volving a common pagan religion and pagan 
outlook on life. The East Romans retained this 
idea of cultural contrast based upon a religion 
and a view of life, but now both of these were 
Christian instead of pagan, and the term 

70 Book REVIEWS 

“Hellene” had given place to that of “Rho- 

Altogether, a learned and stimulating essay, 
both readable and well worth reading. 

A. E. R. Boak 
University of Michigan 

The Epistles of St. Clement of Rome and St. 
Ignatius of Antioch, Newly Translated and 
Annotated. By James A. Kuersr. (‘Ancient 
Christian Writers: The Works of the 
Fathers in Translation,” No. 1.) West- 
minster, Md.: Newman Bookshop, 1946. 
Pp. x+162. $2.50. 

This volume initiates a new series of trans- 
lations of early Christian literature edited by 
Professors Quasten and Plumpe, of the 
Catholic University of America. It will include 
not only Greek and Latin texts but oriental 
writings as well. Collaborators from America 
and various parts of Great Britain will assist 
in the plan. The editors write: 

That there is need of such a collection of 
translations should be evident. On the Catholic 
side we have been without one for much too long. 
So far back as 1941 the editors on their walks 
through the Maryland fields and woods discussed 
this situation and determined to devote every 
effort to its correction. 

Father Kleist, who has translated the First 
Epistle of St. Clement and the seven Ignatian 
letters, is known to New Testament critics for 
his excellent work on Mark. He has followed 
the text of Funk-Bihlmeyer and has produced 
a thoroughly readable and reliable translation, 
with brief critical introductions and useful 
philological and historical notes. His remarks 
on the problem of translating Ignatius’ laconic 
style are so admirable that I venture to quote 
them as a model for all translators of patristic 

A word remains to be said about the tone of 
the subjoined English translation. The style of 
Ignatius is so compact, so succinct, and so highly 
individual, that the reader of this translation who 
wishes to enjoy the additional luxury of tasting 
all the Ignatian flavor must of necessity go to the 
original. Translations are not made for the bene- 
fit of the scholar, but address themselves in the 
first place to a reader not conversant with the 
intricacies of Greek diction. What he looks for 
in taking up a translation is not merely accuracy, 
or fidelity to thought, but also readableness. He 
wants to know—of course in as few words as 
possible—what the Greek writer meant to say; he 
is anxious to grasp the sense without being com- 
pelled to turn to a footnote explaining it. A 
translation is, therefore, not deficient just because 
the number of its words exceeds that of the Greek. 
To give one illustration: In Trallians 4. 1, Ig- 
natius says: woAdd dpovd év OeG. This is an ex- 
treme case of the general Greek, and the special 
Ignatian, penchant for brachylogy. To cling to 
the Greek wording and render: “I think many 
things in God,’’ is to tax the reader with a puzzle. 
What Ignatius means to say is: “If I take God’s 
view of things (for that sense of ¢povd, see Mark 
8. 33: ‘You do not take God’s view of things, 
but man’s’), many thoughts pass through my 
mind.” This is at once intelligible and smoothes 
the way for the next statement: “yet, I restrain 
myself’’ (“I do not allow myself to be puffed up,” 
etc.). Note, also, in the sentence just quoted, 
Ignatius’s passion for what seems to us an exces- 
sive straining of certain Greek prepositions; as, 
for example, é. There is here, no doubt, an echo 
of Paul’s favorite expression é& Xpiorg: “in 
Christ”; that is, ‘in union with Christ’; “acting 
as a member of Christ’s mystical body.”’ Unfortu- 
nately for the translator, é& was capable also of 
several other pregnant uses. On the whole, it 
will be found, I trust, that while I have emulated 
the Ignatian brevitas, I have avoided his ob- 

Rosert P. Casey 

Brown University 

i A A a i 

Oo na MO + 



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are published (sold) separately. Books submitted are not returnable.] 

AMERICAN Numismatic Society. Museum Notes, 
Vol. II. New York: American Numismatic 
Society, 1947. Pp. vi+118+19 pls. $1.50. 

Anti, CarLo. Teatri greci arcaici da Minosse a 
Pericle. (‘“Monografie di archeologia,” ed. 
Caro AntI, No. 1.) Padova: Le Tre Venezie, 
1947. Pp. 337+8 pls. L. 3000. 

Baker, HerscuEu. The Dignity of Man: Studies 
in the Persistence of an Idea. Cambridge: Har- 
vard University Press, 1947. Pp. xii+365. 

Boletin del Instituto Caro y Cuervo, Vol. II, No. 3 
(September-December, 1946). Bogotd: In- 
stituto Caro y Cuervo, 1946. 

BRENNAN, SIsteR M. JosEPHINE. A Study of the 
Clausulae in the Sermons of St. Augustine. 
(“Catholic University of America Patristic 
Studies,” Vol. LX XVII.) Washington, D.C.: 
Catholic University of America Press, 1947. 
Pp. xviii +126. $1.50. 

DorJAHN, ALFRED P. Political Forgiveness in Old 
Athens: The Amnesty of 403 B.C. (‘North- 
western University Studies in the Humani- 
ties,’ No. 18.) Evanston: Northwestern Uni- 
versity, 1946. Pp. viii+56. $1.50. 

DressLeR, HERMIGILD. The Usage of doxéw and 
Its Cognates in Greek Documents to 100 A.D. 
(“Catholic University of America Patristic 
Studies,’ Vol. LXXVIII.) Washington, D.C.: 
Catholic University of America Press, 1947. 
Pp. xii+86. 

Gicon, Otor. Der Ursprung der griechischen 
Philosophie von Hesiod bis Parmenides. Basel: 
Benno Schwabe & Co. Verlag, 1945. Pp. 291. 
$5.00. American representative: Albert J. 
Phiebig, Suite 1209, 545 Fifth Avenue, New 
York 17, N.Y. 

Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, Vol. LVI- 
LVII. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 
1947. Pp. vi+260. $4.00. 

Herter, Hans. Platons Akademie. (‘Bonner 
Universitiitsschriften,” Heft 4.) Bonn: Ver- 
lag Hans Scheur, 1946. Pp. 40. 


Hoonnovt, Petrus. Het Latijn van Thomas van 
Celano, biograaf van Sint Franciscus. (Disserta- 
tion, University of Amsterdam, 1947.) Am- 
sterdam: N.V. Noord-Hollandsche Uitgevers 
Maatschappij, 1947. Pp. x +262. 

Hotrkvist, Gustar. What Does the Expression 
“Blood and Water’? Mean in the Gospel of St. 
John 19. 34? Vrigstad, Sweden: Privately 
printed. Pp. 15. 

Jermyn, L. A. S. The Singing Farmer: A Trans- 
lation of Vergil’s ‘Georgics.’ Oxford: Basil 
Blackwell, 1947. Pp. 133-+-maps. 12s. 6d. net. 

LEHMANN, Karu. Thomas Jefferson: American 
Humanist. New York: Macmillan Co., 1947. 
Pp. xiv-+273. $4.50. 

Marinone, Nino. Elio Donato, Macrobio e 
Servio, commentatori di Vergilio. Vercelli: 
Presso l’autore, 1946. Pp. 107. L. 550. Order 
from the author, Via Vittorio Veneto 1, 
Vercelli, Italy. 

MARMORALE, Ewzo V. (ed.). Petronii Arbitri Cena 
Trimalchionis: Testo critico e commento. 
(“Biblioteca di studi superiori, Filologia 
latina,’ Vol. I.) Firenze: “La Nuova Italia,” 
1947. Pp. xx+179. 

MattHew, Rosert Joun. Language and Area 
Studies in the Armed Services: Their Future 
Significance. Washington, D.C.: American 
Council on Education. Pp. xx+211. $2.50. 

NIEDERMANN, MaximILianus (ed.). M. Fabii 
Quintiliant Institutionis oratoriae libri primi 
capita de grammatica (I 4-8). (“Bibliotheca 
Neocomensis,” Vol. I.) Neuchatel: Editions du 
Griffon, 1947. Pp. xxii+36. 

grecque du droit et le classicisme actuel. Athénes, 
1946. Pp. 218. 

Sanpers, Henry A. (ed.). Latin Papyri in the 
University of Michigan Collection. With con- 
tributions by James E. Dunuap. (“Michigan 
Papyri,” Vol. VII.) Ann Arbor: University of 
Michigan Press; London: Geoffrey Cumber- 
lege (Oxford University Press), 1947. Pp. xiv+ 
128+18 pls. $5.00. 

72 Booxs REcEIVED 

Sporponeg, F. (ed.). Philodemi Adversus (So- 
phistas) e papyro Herculanensi 1005. Naples: 
L. Loffredo, 1947. Pp. xvi+183. L. 550. 

Sepewick, Henry Dwiacut. Horace : A Biog- 
raphy. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 
1947. Pp. xii +182. $3.00. 

SHepparp, J. T. The Wisdom of Sophocles. (“In- 
terpreter Series,” ed. R. B. HeENpERson, Vol. 
V.) London: George Allen & Unwin, Ltd.; 
New York: Macmillan Co., 1947. Pp. 76. 

TxHompson, E. A. The Historical Work of Am- 

mianus Marcellinus. Cambridge: Cambridge 
University Press; New York: Macmillan Co., 
1947. Pp. xii+145. $2.50. 

TREVELYAN, R. C. (trans.). A Translation of the 
Idylls of Theocritus. Cambridge: Cambridge 
University Press; New York: Macmillan Co., 
1947. Pp. xii +99. $1.75. 

Van SICKLE, C. E. A Political and Cultural His- 
tory of the Ancient World from Prehistoric 
Times to the Dissolution of the Roman Empire 
in the West, Vol. I. Boston: Houghton Mifflin 
Co., 1947. Pp. xviii+630. $4.50. 


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