Laudator Temporis Acti

Datyli dies
The day of Datylus

Δατύλου ἡμέρα, The Day of Datylus. When things have gone very well. Taken from a man called Datylus, who achieved the highest honours at Athens.

Δατύλου ἡμέρα, id est Datyli dies, vbi res feliciter successerunt. Sumptum a Datylo quodam, qui apud Athenienses summos est honores consecutus.

There is a famous fragment of the early Lesbian lyric poet Alcaeus (346 Lobel-Page), in which he calls to his companions: 'Let us drink! Why are we waiting for the lamps? Only a finger breadth of day remains.' This last phrase was, or became proverbial, and is in the collections (Zenobius 3.10, Diogenianus 4.13, Suidas Δ 28); but daktylos, finger(breadth), has become a proper name in the genitive, 'of Daktylos,' and in Zenobius the name is Datylos. The collectors then had to provide 'the day of Da(k)tylos' with a historical explanation which looks quite spurious, and Erasmus simply translates this.

Datilo héroe aten. IG 1³.383.76 (V a.C.), SEG l.c., prob. el mismo mencionado en el prov. Δατύλλου ἡμέρα Com.Adesp.305, recogido c. otra explicación, prob. errónea, en la forma Δακτύλου ἡμέρα por Zen. 3.10, Diogenian. 1.4.13, Apostol. 5.86, Sud.

Let us drink! Why do we wait for the lamps? There is only an inch of day left. Friend, take down the large decorated cups. The son of Semele and Zeus gave men wine to make them forget their sorrows. Mix one part of water to two of wine, pour it in brimful, and let one cup jostle another.

πώνωμεν· τί τὰ λύχν᾿ ὀμμένομεν; δάκτυλος ἀμέρα·
κὰδ δἄερρε κυλίχναις μεγάλαις, ἄϊτα, ποικίλαις·
οἶνον γὰρ Σεμέλας καὶ Δίος υἶος λαθικάδεα
ἀνθρώποισιν ἔδωκ᾿. ἔγχεε κέρναις ἔνα καὶ δύο
πλήαις κὰκ κεφάλας, <ἀ> δ᾿ ἀτέρα τὰν ἀτέραν κύλιξ
ὠθήτω.

The wealth of the soul is the only true wealth; the rest has more trouble than the possessions are worth. Him one may rightly call lord of many possessions and wealthy who is able to use his riches. But if a man wears himself out over accounts, ever eager to heap wealth on wealth, his labour shall be like that of the bee in its many-celled honeycomb, for others shall gather the honey.

πλοῦτος ὁ τῆς ψυχῆς πλοῦτος μόνος ἐστὶν ἀληθής·
    τἄλλα δ᾿ ἔχει λύπην πλείονα τῶν κτεάνων.
τόνδε πολυκτέανον καὶ πλούσιον ἔστι δίκαιον
    κλῄζειν, ὃς χρῆσθαι τοῖς ἀγαθοῖς δύναται.
εἰ δέ τις ἐν ψήφοις κατατήκεται, ἄλλον ἐπ᾿ ἄλλῳ        5
    σωρεύειν αἰεὶ πλοῦτον ἐπειγόμενος,
οὗτος ὁποῖα μέλισσα πολυτρήτοις ἐνὶ σίμβλοις
    μοχθήσει, ἑτέρων δρεπτομένων τὸ μέλι.

However, even assuming that the future humanist was lucky enough to choose the right curriculum when he was thirteen or fourteen (and a recent survey has disclosed that of the million precollege students in New York City only one thousand take Latin and only fourteen Greek), even then he has, as a rule, not been exposed to that peculiar and elusive spirit of scholarship which Gilbert Murray calls religio grammatici—that queer religion which makes its votaries both restless and serene, enthusiastic and pedantic, scrupulously honest and not a little vain. The American theory of education re­quires that the teachers of the young—a vast majority of them females—know a great deal about "behavior patterns," "group integration," and "controlled aggression drives," but does not insist too much upon what they may know of their subject, and cares even less for whether they are genuinely interested or actively engaged in it. The typical German "Gymnasialprofessor" is—or at least was in my time—a man of many shortcomings, now pompous, now shy, often neglectful of his appearance, and blissfully ignorant of juvenile psychology. But though he was content to teach boys rather than university students, he was nearly always a scholar. The man who taught me Latin was a friend of Theodor Mommsen and one of the most respected Cicero specialists. The man who taught me Greek was the editor of the Berliner Philologische Wochenschrift, and I shall never forget the impression which this lovable pedant made on us boys of fifteen when he apologized for having overlooked the misplacement of a comma in a Plato passage. "It was my error," he said, "and yet I wrote an article on this very comma twenty years ago; now we must do the translation over again." Nor shall I forget his antipode, a man of Erasmian wit and erudition, who became our history teacher when we had reached the stage of "high school juniors" and introduced himself with the words: "Gentlemen, this year we shall try to understand what happened during the so-called Middle Ages. Facts will be presupposed; you are old enough to use books."

It is the sum total of little experiences like these which makes for an education. This education should begin as early as possible, when minds are more retentive than ever after. And what is true of method is also true, I think, of subject matter. I do not believe that a child or an adolescent should be taught only that which he can fully understand. It is, on the contrary, the half-digested phrase, the half-placed proper name, the half-understood verse, remembered for sound and rhythm rather than meaning, which persists in the memory, captures the imagination, and suddenly emerges, thirty or forty years later, when one encounters a picture based on Ovid's Fasti or a print exhibiting a motif suggested by the Iliad—much as a saturated solution of hyposulphite suddenly crystallizes when stirred.

He shut himself up in his house.

saepsit se tectis.

He concealed himself in dark shadows.

caecis se condidit umbris.

"Practical ideals—well, yes ..." Buddenbrook senior played with his gold snuffbox and rewarded his jaws with a little rest. "Practical ideals. Nope, set no store by 'em at all!" In his annoyance he had fallen back into Plattdeutsch. "Trade schools and technical schools and commercial schools are popping up like mushrooms, and grammar schools and classical education are suddenly all foolishness, and the whole world has nothing in its head but coal mines and factories and making money. Fine, fine, it's all very fine. But on the other hand a bit stupide, over the long term—is it not?"

„Praktische Ideale ... na, ja ...“ Der alte Buddenbrook spielte während einer Pause, die er seinen Kinnladen gönnte, mit seiner goldenen Dose. „Praktische Ideale ... ne, ich bin da gar nich für!“ Er verfiel vor Verdruß in den Dialekt. „Da schießen nun die gewerblichen Anstalten und die technischen Anstalten und die Handelsschulen aus der Erde, und das Gymnasium und die klassische Bildung sind plötzlich Bétisen , und alle Welt denkt an nichts, als Bergwerke ... und Industrie ... und Geldverdienen ... Brav, das alles, höchst brav! Aber ein bißchen stupide, von der anderen Seite, so auf die Dauer — wie?“

He said of himself (November 1946), "Every six weeks I have a thought. The rest of the time I work."

Ingens is our author's maid of all work—cook, slut, and butler at once. No sooner has Ingens put her hand to CHIMAERAM, than she has to turn and give a lift to MOLE; hardly has she despatched "Lausum," 10.842, or "Murranum," 12.639, when she has to attend to "vulnere" of each. It is Ingens who is put in requisition, 11.641, for Herminius's "animis," Ingens for Herminius's "corpore et armis." Aeneas's fame is nothing without Ingens; without Ingens Aeneas's arms, nothing, 11.124: "O fama ingens ingentior armis." Seville's famous barber was never busier: it is Ingens here, Ingens there, everywhere Ingens. Scarce a hero in the Aeneid but has something for Ingens to do. Sarpedon calls Ingens, 1.133, "ubi ingens Sarpedon"; Periphas calls Ingens, 2.476, "una ingens Periphas"; Polyphemus calls Ingens, 3.658, "monstrum informe ingens"; Entellus calls Ingens, 5.423, "atque ingens media consistit arena"; Bitias calls Ingens, 9.709, "clipeum super intonat ingens"; Pandarus calls Ingens, 9.735, "tum Pandarus ingens"; and repeats the call, 11.369, "et Pandarus ingens"; Turnus calls Ingens, 12.926:

                                           ... "incidit ictus
ingens ad terram duplicato poplite Turnus."

Aeneas calls Ingens until both he and she may well be tired, as 10.578:

"haud tulit Aeneas tanto fervore furentes;
irruit, adversaque ingens apparuit hasta."

12.441:

"haec ubi dicta dedit, portis sese extulit ingens."

6.412: "simul accipit alveo ingentem Aenean." 8.366:

                        ... "angusti subter fastigia tecti
ingentem Aenean duxit."

Nor is it only amongst articulating men Ingens is thus in demand. Serpents hiss Ingens, 5.84:

                            ... "lubricus anguis ab imis
septem ingens gyros, septena volumina traxit"

7.351:

                                         ... "fit tortile collo
aurum ingens coluber, fit longae taenia vittae."

Swine grunt Ingens, 3.390; 8.43:

"littoreis ingens inventa sub ilicibus sus."

Bulls bellow Ingens, 8.203:

"Alcides aderat taurosque hac victor agebat
ingentes."

Not only the whole hody, the integrum corpus, but parts and sections of bodies, no matter whether of men or animals, no matter whether alive or dead, hands, horns, mouths, eyes, beards, breasts, ring the bell for Ingens, as 10.446: "corpusque per ingens lumina volvit"; 11.556: "quam dextra ingenti librans"; 7.483:

"cervus erat forma praestanti et cornibus ingens";

11.680:

                                ... "caput ingens oris hiatus
et malae texere lupi";

3.635: "et telo lumen terebramus acuto ingens"; 12.300: "olli ingens barba reluxit"; 10.485: "pectus perforat ingens." Even the headless trunk shouts Ingens, 2.557:

                                ... "iacet ingens littore truncus,
avulsumque humeris caput, et sine nomine corpus."

But all this were tolerable, and so "ingens" is the activity and readiness on the one hand, and the patience on the other, of this veritable "serva servarum," that I doubt if one word of complaint had even to this hour reached my ears, however quick, as ears go, of hearing, if it had not been for the perpetual worrying she has to endure from the merest abstractions, airy nothings, buzzing about her, teazing her, and pricking her like myriads of midges to no good or purpose whatever, but out of mere wantonness and love of mischief. I could not tell you the names of a thousandth part of them, but gloria is one of them, as 2.325: "ingens gloria Teucrorum." Pavor is another of them, 7.458: "olli somnum ingens rumpit pavor." Argumentum, another, 7.791: "argumentum ingens." Pudor, another, 10.870:

                                        ... "aestuat ingens
uno in corde pudor mixtoque insania luctu."

Luctus, another, 11.62: "solatia luctus exigua ingentis"; 11.231:

"deficit ingenti luctu rex ipse Latinus";

6.869: "ingentem luctum ne quaere tuorum." Metus is another, 6.491: "ingenti trepidare metu." Minae, another, 4.88: "minaeque murorum ingentes." Curae, another, 5.701:

"nunc huc ingentes, nunc illuc pectore curas
mutabat";

1.212: "curisque ingentibus aeger." Coepta, another, 9.296:

"spondeo digna tuis ingentibus omnia coeptis";

10.461 : "coeptis ingentibus adsis." Genus, another, 12.224:

                        ... "formam assimulata Camerti,
cui genus a proavis ingens."

None but a heart of adamant had worked any unfortunate biped in such a manner. Many a time I have pitied her, but small good to her a pity of which she knew nothing, which was not to come till two thousand years after; her only consolation, if tears and sighs deserve the name of consolation, was the sympathy of her fellow-servant Contra, who "non ignara mali miseris succurrere didicit"; poor Contra who—never required by previous master to do coarse, common, every-day work, but allowed to live at ease, only lending a helping hand when the ordinary household was insufficient, and hired by her present master on those terms; and as long as he was himself strong and hale and alert only employed in such manner, viz., in his first book three times; in his second book, twice; in his third, three times; in his fourth, where he was in his full prime and vigour, only once; in his fifth, six times; in his sixth, twice; in his seventh, four times; in his eighth, three times—has to put to her hand in his ninth book, where her master first begins to show signs of fatigue, no less than ten times; in his tenth book, where his fatigue is greater, seventeen times; and even in his eleventh and twelfth books, where he seems to have become conscious how unfairly he had been treating a faithful servant, and shows a praiseworthy desire to spare her in future as much as his own increasing infirmities might allow, as often as twelve times in the eleventh, and seven times in the twelfth book. Poor Contra and poor Ingens! as honest and kind-hearted as ye were overwrought, ye never complained, never thought either of giving warning or going off without giving warning, but stuck faithful and steady to your employer from the day ye first entered his service (1.13: "Italiam contra Tiberinaque longe ostia"; 1.103: "ubi ingens Sarpedon") to the very end of your engagement, when ye are still found hand in hand helping alike, and at one and the same moment, your master and each other, 12.887:

"Aeneas instat contra telumque coruscat
ingens, arboreum";

896: "saxum circumspicit ingens"; 897: "saxum antiquum, ingens"; 926:

                                           ... "incidit ictus
ingens ad terram duplicato poplite Turnus."

Farewell! hard-working, faithful creatures, farewell!

Returning from Dresden to Ireland through London, and calling at the library of the British Museum with a present of a recently published work of my own, I begged to be allowed to look at a passage in a volume which stood on a shelf close beside me. "Have you permission to read in the library?" asked the officer in charge. "No, I have not; nor have I come for the purpose of reading; nor do I intend to stay longer in London than this day. All I ask is permission to look at a few lines in that volume. I shall do so without sitting down or stirring out of this spot. I shall not require to have the book in my hands for quite five minutes." "You cannot be allowed; it is contrary to rule. But if you get a banker, or the principal of any college, seminary or commercial establishment in London, to write a letter to Sir Henry Ellis, certifying that you are a fit and proper person to read in the library, Sir Henry Ellis will, on receipt of such letter, post you a ticket of admission, and on that ticket you can come and read in the library daily for the next three months." "I do not want admission to the library; I am in it already. I only wish to have that book, there, in my hands for five minutes, and then to go away and trouble you no more." "Impossible; it is contrary to rule." "Can I see Sir Henry Ellis?" "Certainly." Sir Henry Ellis made his appearance, replied to my request in the same terms, and I proceeded to Ireland, more than ever convinced that even in civilization there is a golden mean, every step beyond which is a step further from humanity, and towards an extreme in which ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes non emollit mores sed sinit esse feros, and consoling myself en vrai Darwiniste as I am, with the prospect I saw opening in the distance for my successors, that books in British libraries continuing to be guarded as if they were Hesperides' apples, readers would in due course come to be born with the strength of Hercules, and the instinct to use it on the proper occasion.

"And what are you reading, Master Buddenbrook? Ah, Cicero! A difficult text, the work of a great Roman orator. Quousque tandem, Catilina. Huh-uh-hmm, yes, I've not entirely forgotten my Latin, either."

The consul said, "Unlike my dear departed father, I have always had some reservations about this everlasting preoccupation of young minds with Greek and Latin. So many serious and important matters are necessary to prepare a man for the practical side of life."

"My opinion entirely, Herr Buddenbrook," Herr Grünlich hastened to reply. "You took the words out of my mouth. A difficult text, and as I failed to add, a not unexceptionable one. Quite apart from everything else, I can recall several passages in those speeches that are blatantly offensive."

Chesterton once said that ideally the daily newspapers should print every day selections from Shakespeare and Homer and the Bible and other things that were really important and that people should read regularly, and then, once every three months, put out a special supplement with a brief run-down of fires, murders, accidents, infidelities, political events — one compressed tabloid of the trivialities of the quarter.

MARICONDO. Know, my brother, that this succession and order of things is most true and most certain; but as regards ourselves in all ordinary conditions whatever, the present afflicts more than the past, nor can these two together console, but only the future, which is always in hope and expectation as you may see designated in this figure which is taken from the ancient Egyptians, who made a certain statue which is a bust, upon which they placed three heads, one of a wolf which looks behind, one of a lion with the face turned half round, and the third of a dog who looks straight before him; to signify that things of the past afflict by means of thoughts, but not so much as things of the present which actually torment, while the future ever promises something better; therefore behold the wolf that howls, the lion that roars and the dog that barks (applause).

CES. What means that legend that is written above?

MAR. See, that above the wolf is Lam, above the lion Modo, above the dog Praeterea, which are words signifying the three parts of time.

CES. Now read the tablet.

MAR. I will do so.

                                  41.
A wolf, a lion, and a dog appear
At dawn, at midday, and dark night.
That which I spent, retain and for myself procure,
So much was given, is given, and may be given;
For that which I did, I do, and have to do.
In the past, in the present and in the future,
I do repent, torment myself and re-assure,
For the loss, in suffering and in expectation.
With sour, with bitter and with sweet
Experience, the fruits, and hope,
Threatens, afflict, and comforts me.
The age I lived, do live and am to live,
Affrights me, shakes me and upholds
In absence, presence and in prospect.
Much, too much and sufficient
Of the past, of now, and of to come,
Put me in fear, in anguish and in hope.

Un alan, un leon, un can appare
    A l'auror, al dì chiaro, al vespr'oscuro.
    Quel che spesi, ritegno, e mi procuro,
    Per quanto mi si diè, si dà, può dare.
Per quel che feci, faccio ed ho da fare
    Al passato, al presente ed al futuro,
    Mi pento, mi tormento, m'assicuro,
    Nel perso, nel soffrir, nell'aspettare.
Con l'agro, con l'amaro, con il dolce
    L'esperienza, i frutti, la speranza
    Mi minacciò, m'affligono, mi molce.
L'età che vissi, che vivo, ch'avanza,
    Mi fa tremante, mi scuote, mi folce,
    In absenza, presenza e lontananza.
Assai, troppo, a bastanza
    Quel di già, quel di ora, quel d'appresso
    M'hanno in timor, martir e spene messo.

Labels: typographical and other errors

An interesting example of this distinction between the literal and the "real" meaning of a name, and an illustration of the difficulty of using anthropological evidence to answer papyrological questions, is the case of copronyms, which have been the subject of a considerable body of scholarship. Most recently the long-prevailing theory that names based on the Greek word κόπρος ( = "dung") belong to people of slave origin has been convincingly refuted, but as yet no papyrologist has made a satisfactory explanation of why anyone would be named "Dung." A persuasive answer comes to us from the vast anthropological literature which attests to the common practice of naming; that is, for example, when a woman has had trouble conceiving a child, or has had a number of children die in infancy, she will name a new baby something negative in order to ward off the evil eye and thereby ensure the survival of her child. This phenomenon is copiously documented in various societies around the world, and makes perfect sense of the otherwise inexplicable phenomenon of copronyms. In other words, I am suggesting here that although the literal meaning of the name Κόπρος may be "dung," the true significance of the name in a particular case may be that the mother has had difficulty getting pregnant, or has lost three previous children in infancy, and is therefore choosing an apotropaic name to ward off the evil eye and ensure the survival of this child.

• Crappy Names
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Labels: noctes scatologicae

Almost half our papyri (19) come from Book 1; Books 2 and 5 achieve quite a respectable score (six each). Book 8 has four; Book 7 three; Books 3 and 4 two each. Book 6 is not attested at all. There was nothing from Book 9 until the publication in 2004 of P.Oslo inv. 1487,10 preserving parts of 9.74–5, now in the library of the University of Oslo—just too late to get into Flower and Marincola's edition (2002).¹¹ In antiquity, as now, only a small proportion of those who started to read long books actually finished them. Notwithstanding the Herodotean Solon's sage counsel to look to the end (1.32.9) comparatively few can have pressed on to see how Herodotus presented the conclusion of the intercontinental conflict whose origins he outlines at the start of his work. If the last chapter contains a message of profound significance for the interpretation of the Histories as a whole, the majority of readers in Roman Egypt missed it. The relative popularity of individual books is consistent with the impression we get from citations in ancient authors, both pagan and Christian; Book 1 comes top by a long way.<sup>12

11</sup> While precise statistics relating to published papyri are subject to rapid obsolescence, the substantial group of Oxyrhynchus papyri in the pipeline confirms the general proportions, enhancing the lead of Book 1; I am very grateful to Dirk Obbink for letting me see this material.

¹² Of the 27 passages from Herodotus most frequently cited by pagan and Christian writers, eleven come from Book 1: see Ehrhardt 1988, 858.

To grasp reality we have to detach ourselves from the present. Philosophy and mathematics do this by building systems in a medium which is by definition not subject to time. Natural science and the humanities do it by creating those spatio-temporal structures which I have called the "cosmos of nature" and the "cosmos of culture." And here we touch upon what is perhaps the most fundamental difference between the humanities and the natural sciences. Natural science observes the time-bound processes of nature and tries to apprehend the timeless laws according to which they unfold. Physical observation is only possible where something "happens," that is, where a change occurs or is made to occur by way of experiment. And it is these changes which are finally symbolized by mathematical formulae. The humanities, on the other hand, are not faced by the task of arresting what otherwise would slip away, but of enlivening what otherwise would remain dead. Instead of dealing with temporal phenomena, and causing time to stop, they penetrate into a region where time has stopped of its own accord, and try to reactivate it. Gazing as they do at those frozen, stationary records of which I have said that they "emerge from the stream of time," the humanities endeavor to capture the processes in the course of which those records were produced and became what they are.

In thus endowing static records with dynamic life, instead of reducing transitory events to static laws, the humanities do not conflict with, but complement, the natural sciences. In fact these two presuppose and demand each other. Science—here understood in the true sense of the term, namely, as a serene and self-dependent pursuit of knowledge, not as something subservient to "practical" ends—and the humanities are sisters, brought forth as they are by that movement which has rightly been called the discovery (or, in a larger historical perspective, rediscovery) of both the world and man. And as they were born and reborn together, they will also die and be resurrected together if destiny so wills. If the anthropocratic civilization of the Renaissance is headed, as it seems to be, for a "Middle Ages in reverse"—a satanocracy as opposed to the mediaeval theocracy—not only the humanities but also the natural sciences, as we know them, will disappear, and nothing will be left but what serves the dictates of the subhuman. But even this will not mean the end of humanism. Prometheus could be bound and tortured, but the fire lit by his torch could not be extinguished.

'Optatae gremio telluris'—in three Latin words all the longing for home, for roots, for mother earth is contained.

He was also a gifted teacher, even if not always in conventional ways. I remember vividly how he would come into class at Yale juggling a cup of coffee, a stack of Loebs, a cigarette, and some papers, proceeding to talk about some stretch of classical Greek history in what seemed like a largely impromptu performance, not always apparently very well organized, but full of original insights. He seemed to assume that opening up the ancient text, quoting it, and explaining its problems as if in a scholarly discussion would work with an undergraduate class, and for the most part it did. One might, without great exaggeration, describe the method as charismatic chaos.

Those who collect fragments get used to following certain rules.

1. Don't split up integral fragments into smaller units (i.e. don't atomize the fragmentary tradition further).

2. Distinguish direct quotation from paraphrase or adaptation.

3. Pay close attention to context. Albert Henrichs has said that 'collections of fragments are both a blessing and a curse', the latter because they remove material from its original context, thus obscuring the readerly signs that signal the way it was intended to be (and obviously was) understood when it is quoted. Therefore one should not make the pericope (the amount of surrounding context to be included with a fragment or quotation being studied) too narrow. To pay attention to and when necessary to reconstruct the original context of a fragment is as important as reconstructing the original work from which it was derived, and may be our only key to it. In addition, it provides an unexpected bonus in the form of a received and in many ways new fragment.

4. You must already in a sense know what the text says before you can read or restore it. New knowledge comes by way of correction and refinement or from the new context gained. It may link to another piece of the puzzle. When William of Baskerville, the Franciscan monk and detective in Eco's The Name of the Rose, finally lays hands on the long-lost second book of Aristotle’s Poetics, he 'smiled as he read it, as if he recognized the things he expected to find'. And when questioned by the murderer Jorge as to how he knew it was the second book of Aristotle, he explains that he pieced it together from facts dropped in conversation with the murderer and knowing that these were mentioned in Aristotle's Rhetoric and the first book of the Poetics, together with a definition of comedy preserved in Isidore: 'Gradually it took shape in my mind, as it had to be. I could tell you almost all of it, without reading the pages that were meant to poison me'. Another way of putting this is, as Lionel Pearson once told me, 'You have to read the books that don’t survive before you can understand the ones that do.'

5. Never emend the text at or in a lacuna (Youtie's first law).

6. Always assume that the text makes sense. Even a corrupt one is easier to correct if you start from this principle, and even a sound text is unreadable if you don't.

Two elementary methodological criteria seem to have remained unknown to him [Karl Jahn]: first, that a newly discovered text, whatsoever its origin and character may be, must make reasonable sense, and, secondly, that its language is not expected to differ from the standard grammar and style of the linguistic area to which it belongs. To be sure, the contents of private letters are sometimes cryptic, since they often mention details which were familiar to the writers and addressees, while they remain unknown to us. However, when the things which they seem to say are absurd or meaningless, our first reaction ought to be to doubt the correctness of our interpretation rather than the soundness of their minds.

Make sure of your accents at all times. Nothing so quickly repels a Greek scholar as false accents.

Every historical concept is obviously based on the categories of space and time. The records, and what they imply, have to be dated and located. But it turns out that these two acts are in reality two aspects of one. If I date a picture about 1400, this statement would be meaningless if I could not indicate where it could have been produced at that date; conversely, if I ascribe a picture to the Florentine school, I must be able to tell when it could have been produced in that school. The cosmos of culture, like the cosmos of nature, is a spatio-temporal structure. The year 1400 means something different in Venice from what it means in Florence, to say nothing of Augsburg, or Russia, or Constantinople. Two historical phenomena are simultaneous, or have a determinable temporal relation to each other, only in so far as they can be related within one "frame of reference," in the absence of which the very concept of simultaneity would be as meaningless in history as it would in physics. If we knew by some concatenation of circumstances that a certain Negro sculpture had been executed in 1510, it would be meaningless to say that it was "contemporaneous" with Michelangelo's Sistine ceiling.

Wine gives courage and makes men apt for passion; care flees and is drowned in much wine. Then laughter comes, then even the poor find vigour, then sorrow and care and the wrinkles of the brow depart. Then simplicity, most rare in our age, lays bare the mind, when the god dispels all craftiness.

vina parant animos faciuntque caloribus aptos:
    cura fugit multo diluiturque mero.
tunc veniunt risus, tum pauper cornua sumit,
    tum dolor et curae rugaque frontis abit.        240
tunc aperit mentes aevo rarissima nostro
    simplicitas, artes excutiente deo.

• Praise of Dionysus
• Some Effects of Wine

During the Second World War a handy Penguin selection from Herodotus appeared not in the dark blue covers appropriate to history but in the orange covers characterizing general fiction (The Penguin Herodotus, edited by A. J. Evans, Penguin Fiction No. 330; Harmondsworth. 1941).

I would not rate a man worth mention or account
    either for speed of foot or wrestling skill,
not even if he had a Cyclops' size and strength
    or could outrun the fierce north wind of Thrace;
I would not care if he surpassed Tithonus' looks,        5
    or Cinyras' or Midas' famous wealth,
or were more royal than Pelops son of Tantalus,
    or had Adrastus' smooth persuasive tongue,
or fame for everything save only valour: no,
    no man's of high regard in time of war        10
unless he can endure the sight of blood and death,
    and stand close to the enemy, and fight.

This is the highest worth, the finest human prize
    and fairest for a bold young man to win.
It benefits the whole community and state,        15
    when with a firm stance in the foremost rank
a man bides steadfast, with no thought of shameful flight,
    laying his life and stout heart on the line,
and standing by the next man speaks encouragement.
    This is the man of worth in time of war.        20
Soon he turns back the foemen's sharp-edged battle lines
    and strenuously stems the tide of arms;
his own dear life he loses, in the front line felled,
    his breast, his bossed shield pierced by many a wound,
and of his corselet all the front, but he has brought        25
    glory upon his father, army, town.

His death is mourned alike by young and old, the whole
    community feels the keen loss its own.
People point out his tomb, his children in the street,
    his children's children and posterity.        30
His name and glorious reputation never die;
    he is immortal even in his grave,
that man the furious War-god kills as he defends
    his soil and children with heroic stand.
Or if in winning his proud spear-vaunt he escapes        35
    the doom of death and grief's long shadow-cast,
then all men do him honour, young and old alike;
    much joy is his before he goes below.
He grows old in celebrity, and no one thinks
    to cheat him out of his due respect and rights,        40
but all men at the public seats make room for him,
    the young, the old, and those his own age.

This is the excellence whose heights one now must seek
    to scale, by not relenting in the fight.

οὔτ᾿ ἂν μνησαίμην οὔτ᾿ ἐν λόγῳ ἄνδρα τιθείμην
    οὔτε ποδῶν ἀρετῆς οὔτε παλαιμοσύνης,
οὐδ᾿ εἰ Κυκλώπων μὲν ἔχοι μέγεθός τε βίην τε,
    νικῴη δὲ θέων Θρηΐκιον Βορέην,
οὐδ᾿ εἰ Τιθωνοῖο φυὴν χαριέστερος εἴη,        5
    πλουτοίη δὲ Μίδεω καὶ Κινύρεω μάλιον,
οὐδ᾿ εἰ Τανταλίδεω Πέλοπος βασιλεύτερος εἴη,
    γλῶσσαν δ᾿ Ἀδρήστου μειλιχόγηρυν ἔχοι,
οὐδ᾿ εἰ πᾶσαν ἔχοι δόξαν πλὴν θούριδος ἀλκῆς·
    οὐ γὰρ ἀνὴρ ἀγαθὸς γίνεται ἐν πολέμῳ        10
εἰ μὴ τετλαίη μὲν ὁρῶν φόνον αἱματόεντα,
    καὶ δηίων ὀρέγοιτ᾿ ἐγγύθεν ἱστάμενος.

ἥδ᾿ ἀρετή, τόδ᾿ ἄεθλον ἐν ἀνθρώποισιν ἄριστον
    κάλλιστόν τε φέρειν γίνεται ἀνδρὶ νέῳ.
ξυνὸν δ᾿ ἐσθλὸν τοῦτο πόληί τε παντί τε δήμῳ,        15
    ὅστις ἀνὴρ διαβὰς ἐν προμάχοισι μένῃ
νωλεμέως, αἰσχρῆς δὲ φυγῆς ἐπὶ πάγχυ λάθηται,
    ψυχὴν καὶ θυμὸν τλήμονα παρθέμενος,
θαρσύνῃ δ᾿ ἔπεσιν τὸν πλησίον ἄνδρα παρεστώς·
    οὗτος ἀνὴρ ἀγαθὸς γίνεται ἐν πολέμῳ.        20
αἶψα δὲ δυσμενέων ἀνδρῶν ἔτρεψε φάλαγγας
    τρηχείας, σπουδῇ δ᾿ ἔσχεθε κῦμα μάχης.
αὐτὸς δ᾿ ἐν προμάχοισι πεσὼν φίλον ὤλεσε θυμόν,
    ἄστυ τε καὶ λαοὺς καὶ πατέρ᾿ εὐκλεΐσας,
πολλὰ διὰ στέρνοιο καὶ ἀσπίδος ὀμφαλοέσσης        25
    καὶ διὰ θώρηκος πρόσθεν ἐληλαμένος.

τὸν δ᾿ ὀλοφύρονται μὲν ὁμῶς νέοι ἠδὲ γέροντες,
    ἀργαλέῳ δὲ πόθῳ πᾶσα κέκηδε πόλις,
καὶ τύμβος καὶ παῖδες ἐν ἀνθρώποις ἀρίσημοι
    καὶ παίδων παῖδες καὶ γένος ἐξοπίσω·        30
οὐδέ ποτε κλέος ἐσθλὸν ἀπόλλυται οὐδ᾿ ὄνομ᾿ αὐτοῦ,
    ἀλλ᾿ ὑπὸ γῆς περ ἐὼν γίνεται ἀθάνατος,
ὅντιν᾿ ἀριστεύοντα μένοντά τε μαρνάμενόν τε
    γῆς πέρι καὶ παίδων θοῦρος Ἄρης ὀλέσῃ.
εἰ δὲ φύγῃ μὲν κῆρα τανηλεγέος θανάτοιο,        35
    νικήσας δ᾿ αἰχμῆς ἀγλαὸν εὖχος ἕλῃ,
πάντες μιν τιμῶσιν, ὁμῶς νέοι ἠδὲ παλαιοί,
    πολλὰ δὲ τερπνὰ παθὼν ἔρχεται εἰς Ἀΐδην,
γηράσκων δ᾿ ἀστοῖσι μεταπρέπει, οὐδέ τις αὐτὸν
    βλάπτειν οὔτ᾿ αἰδοῦς οὔτε δίκης ἐθέλει,        40
πάντες δ᾿ ἐν θώκοισιν ὁμῶς νέοι οἵ τε κατ᾿ αὐτὸν
    εἴκουσ᾿ ἐκ χώρης οἵ τε παλαιότεροι.

ταύτης νῦν τις ἀνὴρ ἀρετῆς εἰς ἄκρον ἱκέσθαι
    πειράσθω θυμῷ μὴ μεθιεὶς πολέμου.

Tyrtaeus exalts true areté above the other goods which his contemporaries believed could give a man true worth and esteem. 'I would' not,' he says, 'mention or take account of a man for the prowess of his feet or for his wrestling, even if he had the stature and strength of the Cyclopes and outran the Thracian Boreas.' These are exaggerated instances of the athletic areté which had been admired, above all else by the aristocracy ever since Homer's day; during the previous century, because of the rise of the Olympic Games, it had come to be regarded even by the common people as the highest pinnacle of human achievement. Tyrtaeus now adds other virtues admired by the old nobility. 'And were he more beautiful in face and body than Tithonus, and richer than Midas and Cinyras, and more kingly than Tantalus' son Pelops, and sweeter of tongue than Adrastus, I would not honour him for these things, even if he had every glory except warlike valour. For no one is a good man in war, unless he can bear to see bloody slaughter and can press hard on the enemy, standing face to face. That is areté!' cries Tyrtaeus in a transport of emotion, 'that is the best and fairest prize which a young man can win among men. That is a good which is common to all—to the city and the whole people—when a man takes his stand and holds his ground relentlessly among the foremost fighters and casts away all thought of shameful flight.' We must not call this 'late rhetoric'. Solon speaks in the same way. The origins of rhetorical style go far back into history. Tyrtaeus' excited repetitions are prompted by the deep emotion with which he asks his central question—what is true areté? The usual answers to that question are one by one rejected, in the powerful negations of the first ten or twelve lines; all the lofty ideals of the old Greek aristocracy are removed to a lower plane, although not wholly denied or superseded; and then, when the poet has raised his audience to a high pitch of excitement, he proclaims the severe new ideal of citizenship. There is only one standard of true areté—the common good of the polis. Whatever helps the community is good, whatever injures it is bad.

From this, he passes naturally to eulogies of the reward which a man wins by sacrificing himself for his country, whether he falls in battle or returns home triumphant. 'But he who falls among the foremost fighters and loses his dear life in winning glory for his city and his fellow-citizens and his father—his breast and his bossed shield and his breastplate pierced with many wounds in front—he is lamented by young and old together, and the whole city mourns for him in sad grief; and his tomb and his children are honoured among men, and his children's children likewise and his whole race after him; never is his name and fair fame destroyed, but though he lies beneath the earth he becomes immortal.' The glory of a Homeric hero, however widely it is disseminated by the wandering bard, is nothing to the glory of a simple Spartan warrior, as Tyrtaeus describes it, laid up for ever deep in the hearts of his people. The close community of the city-state, which seemed at the beginning of the poem to be only an obligation, now appears as a privilege and an honour: it is the source of all ideal values. The first part states the heroic ideal of areté in terms of the city-state. The second restates, in the same terms, the heroic ideal of glory. Areté and glory are inseparable in the epic. Glory is now to be given, and areté to be exercised, by and in the city-state. The polis lives when the individual dies; and so it is a safe guardian of the 'name' and, with it, of the future life of a hero.

The early Greeks did not believe in the immortality of the soul. A man was dead when his body died. What Homer calls the psyché is a reflection or wraith of the physical body, a shadow living in Hades, a nothing. But if a man crossed the frontiers of ordinary human existence and reached a higher life by sacrificing himself for his country, then the polis could give him immortality by perpetuating his ideal personality, his 'name'. This political idea of heroism became dominant with the rise of the city-state, and remained so throughout Greek history. Man as a political being reaches perfection by the perpetuation of his memory in the community for which he lived or died. It was only when the value of the state, and indeed of all earthly life, began to be questioned, and the value of the individual soul to be exalted—a process which culminated in Christianity—that philosophers came to preach the duty of despising fame. Even in the political thought of Demosthenes and Cicero there is no trace of this change; while Tyrtaeus' elegies represent the first stage in the development of city-state morality. It is the polis which guards and immortalizes the dead hero, and it is the polis which exalts the victorious warrior who returns alive. 'He is honoured by all, young and old together; his life brings him much happiness, and no one will offer him insult or injury. As he grows old, he is respected among the citizens, and wherever he goes all make way for him, both the youth and the elders.' This is not merely rhetoric. The early Greek city-state was small, but it had something truly heroic and truly human in its nature. Greece, and in fact all the ancient world, held the hero to be the highest type of humanity.

And perhaps the spirit of Christ is more widespread than we understand, and the company of saints includes many not in our calendar.

Et fortasse latius se fundit spiritus Christi, quam nos interpretamur, et multi sunt in consortio sanctorum, qui non sunt apud nos in catalogo.

But see what a small amount is even the greatest knowledge granted to a single mind! In any case, isn't the knowledge granted to one intellect still very small, whatever its amount? Indeed, human knowledge is as nothing compared with human ignorance, not to mention God's knowledge.

Alioquin quantulum, queso, est, quantumcunque est, quod nosse uni ingenio datum est? Imo, quam nichil est scire hominis, quisquis sit, si, non dicam scientie Dei, sed sui ipsius ignorantie comparetur!

As I gaze down on this algae-bordered puddle, a kind of despair envelops me. What are the algae of the green border? I don't know. What are the little flies landing and taking off? I don't know. What are the small plants thrusting up through the water? I don't know. The vistas of my ignorance seem boundless. How much that I see I do not recognize; how much that I observe I do not understand! In this despairing and humbled mood, I traverse the meadows and return home. In the study of nature, we never exhaust the possibilities of an area; the area exhausts the possibilities in us.

Dangerous are the gods when they appear in manifest form.

χαλεποὶ δὲ θεοὶ ϕαίνεσθαι ἐναϱγεῖς.

'are terrible when they show themselves openly': lit. are hard (to face or endure) for (with regard to) appearing visible.

Whosoever shall behold any of the immortals, when the god himself chooses not, at a heavy price shall he behold.

ὅς κε τιν᾿ ἀθανάτων, ὅκα μὴ θεὸς αὐτὸς ἕληται,
    ἀθρήσῃ, μισθῷ τοῦτον ἰδεῖν μεγάλῳ.

From corn when 'tis yet but grass you can make a lovely green sauce: it is easily concocted and readily digested; it enlivens your brain, gladdens your animal spirits, delights your sight, whets your appetite, flatters your taste-buds, steels your heart, tickles your palate, clarifies your complexion, tones up your muscles, tempers the blood, lightens the diaphragm, freshens up the liver, unbungs the spleen, comforts the kidneys, settles the bladder, limbers up the spondyls, voids the ureters, dilates the spermatic vessels, tightens up the genital sinews, purges the bladder, swells the genitals, retracts the foreskin, hardens the glans and erects the member; it improves the belly and makes you break wind, fart, let off, defecate, urinate, sneeze, hiccup, cough, gob, spew, yawn, dribble snot, breathe deep, breathe in, breathe out, snore, sweat, and get your gimlet up, together with hundreds of other extraordinary benefits.

De bled en herbe vous faictez belle saulce verde, de legiere concoction, de facile digestion, laquelle vous esbanoist le cerveau, esbaudist les espritz animaulx, resjouist la veue, ouvre l'appetit, delecte le goust, assere le coeur, chatouille la langue, faict le tainct clair, fortifie les muscles, tempere le sang, allegre le diaphragme, refraischist le foye, desoppile la ratelle, soulaige les roignons, assouplist les reins, desgourdist les spondyles, vuide les ureteres, dilate les vases spermacticques, abbrevie les cremasteres, expurge la vessie, enfle les genitoires, corrige le prepuce, incruste le balane, rectifie le membre: vous faict bon ventre, bien rotter, vessir, peder, fianter, uriner, esternuer, sangloutir, toussir, cracher, vomiter, baisler, mouscher, haleiner, inspirer, respirer, ronfler, suer, dresser le virolet, et mille autres rares adventaiges.

Thomas of Aquinum lent his saintly name to what I can only call the abominable fancy that the bliss of the saved may be all the more keen because they are permitted to gaze on the punishment of the wicked.<sup>1

1</sup> "Unumquodque ex comparatione contrarii magis cognoscitur ... et ideo ut beatitudo sanctorum eis magis complaceat, et de ea uberiores gratias Deo agant, datur eis ut poenam impiorum perfecte videant!"—St. Thom. Aquin. Summa Theol. iii. Suppl. Qu. 94, art. I.

Compare the language of Peter Lombard:—"Egredientur ergo electi ad vivendum impiorum cruciatus, quos videntes non dolore afficientur, sed laetitia satiabuntur, visa impiorum ineffabili calamitate."—Sentent. iv. dist. 5, 9.

Strange influence of system and dogma! Can any one with a heart, any man worthy of the name of Christian, any man worthy of the name of man, fully realise the meaning of such words with a soul unblinded by prejudice and unsteeled by custom, without calling it inhuman language, and wondering that any could have uttered it who thought that they were preaching a gospel of infinite love?

Now everything is known the more for being compared with its contrary...Wherefore in order that the happiness of the saints may be more delightful to them and that they may render more copious thanks to God for it, they are allowed to see perfectly the sufferings of the damned.

The elect shall go out to see the tortures of the impious. In seeing them, they shall not be stricken with sorrow; but they shall be filled with rejoicing, after seeing the ineffable calamity of the impious.

Labels: typographical and other errors

Rumor has it that he uses the huge volumes of the 1703-1706 Leiden edition of Erasmus's complete works as his bedtime reading.

The humanists most read today are of course those, like Erasmus, Thomas More, and Rabelais, who were also deeply interested in humanity as a subject, but we should not therefore assume that all humanists thought of man as their central subject; many were far more interested in restoring lost iota subscripts, or in explaining anomalous uses of the past perfect subjunctive.

I was dispirited, saddened, troubled, by
the spiteful gossip, all the malice, I
was hearing at a royal reception where
I banqueted with many people nearby.
I'd never seen such grimaces as played        5
across the faces of those eating there.
When I saw them, joy came to my aid:
I never saw such faces as these people made.

One looked just like a pig, a roadside sow,
so vigorously did he chomp his lips;        10
one used his teeth to saw his food in strips,
another moved his forehead and his brow;
one scowled; one twisted up his face somehow,
another managed to get his beard splayed;
one acted like a sheep, another like a cow;        15
I never saw such faces as these people made.

As I kept looking at them I became
awe-struck, since they seemed demons as they chewed;
I didn't see two people eat the same:
one chew was like a mouse, another lewd.        20
It gave more laughs than any other game
to watch the ways in which they stuffed down food.
Take a good look! I swear the joy won't fade.
I never saw such faces as these people made.

Envoy
Prince, a man who's sad won't find a thing to beat        25
watching a group of people as they eat.
He won't find better ways to overcome dull care;
he'll be astonished at the grimaces displayed,
of which I got a generous helping there:
I never saw such faces as these people made.        30

---

Tristes, pensis, mas et mornes estoye
Par mesdisance et rappors de faulx dis
A une court royal ou je dinoye,
Ou pluseurs gens furent a table assis;
Maiz oncques mais tant de nices ne vis        5
Que ceulx firent que l'en veoit mengier.
D'eulx regarder fu de joye ravis:
Oncques ne vis gens ainsi requinier.

Li uns sembloit truie enmi une voye,
Tant mouvoit fort ses baulifres toudiz;        10
L'autre faisoit de ses dens une soye,
L'autre mouvoit le front et les sourcis;
L'un requignoit, l'autre torcoit son vis,
L'autre faisoit sa barbe baloier,
L'un fait le veel, l'autre fait la brebis:        15
Oncques ne vis gens ainsi requignier.

D'eulx regarder trop fort me merveilloye,
Car en machant sembloient ennemiz;
Faire autel l'un com l'autre ne veoie,
L'un machoit gros, l'autre comme souriz;        20
Je n'oy oncques tant de joye ne ris
Que de veoir leurs morceaulx ensacher.
Or y gardez, je vous le jure et diz:
Oncques ne vis gens ainsi requignier.

L'envoy
Princes, qui est courroussez et pensis        25
Voist gens veoir qui sont a table mis:
Mieulx ne porra sa tristesse laissier;
Des grimaces sera tous esbahis
Que chascun fait; j'en fu la bien servis:
Oncques ne vis gens ainsi requignier.        30

In error obstinate, in wrangling loud,        15
For trifles eager, positive, and proud;
Deep in the darkness of dull authors bred,
With all their refuse lumber'd in his head,
What every dunce from every dunghill drew
Of literary offals, old or new,        20
Forth steps at last the self-applauding Wight,
Of points and letters, chaff and straws, to write:
Sagely resolv'd to swell each bulky piece
With venerable toys, from Rome and Greece;
How oft, in Homer, Paris curl'd his hair;        25
If Aristotle's Cap were round or square;
If in the cave, where Dido first was sped,
To Tyre she turn'd her heels, to Troy her head.

Such the choice anecdotes, profound and vain,
That store a Bentley's and a Burman's brain:        30
Hence, Plato quoted, or the Stagyrite,
To prove that flame ascends, and snow is white:
Hence, much hard study without sense or breeding,
And all the grave impertinence of reading.
If Shakespear says, the noon-day sun is bright,        35
His Scholiast will remark, it then was light;
Turn Caxton, Winkin, each old Goth and Hun,
To rectify the reading of a pun.
Thus, nicely trifling, accurately dull,
How one may toil, and toil —— to be a fool!        40

ὅτι δὲ οὐ κατ' ἐπίγνωσιν ἴσασι τὸν θεόν, ἀλλὰ κατὰ περίφρασιν Ἑλλήνων οἱ δοκιμώτατοι, Πέτρος ἐν τῷ Κηρύγματι λέγει· "Γινώσκετε οὖν ὅτι εἷς θεός ἐστιν, ὃς ἀρχὴν πάντων ἐποίησεν, καὶ τέλους ἐξουσίαν ἔχων" καί "ὁ ἀόρατος, ὃς τὰ πάντα ὁρᾷ, ἀχώρητος, ὃς τὰ πάντα χωρεῖ, ἀνεπιδεής, οὗ τὰ πάντα ἐπιδέεται καὶ δι' ὅν ἐστιν, ἀκατάληπτος, ἀέναος, ἄφθαρτος, ἀποίητος, ὃς τὰ πάντα ἐποίησεν λόγῳ δυνάμεως αὐτοῦ [τῆς γνωστικῆς γραφῆς] τουτέστι τοῦ υἱοῦ."

And that the most notable of the Greeks know (about) God not by positive knowledge, but (only) by roundabout expression, Peter says in the 'Preaching':

Recognize now that there is one God who created the beginning of all things and who has the power to set an end;

and

the Invisible who sees all things; the Incomprehensible who comprehends all things; the One who needs nothing, of whom all things stand in need and for whose sake they are; the Inconceivable, the Everlasting, the Imperishable, the Uncreated, who has made all things by the word of his power [from the gnostic writing], that is his Son.

Labels: asyndetic privative adjectives

Besides their poverty-stricken look, Pythagoreans could be recognized by their sombre countenances. Their joyless facial expressions are in line with the report that the great Master himself never laughed either.¹¹ Allowing laughter only in moderation is not often mentioned, but it is noteworthy that Chaeremon, when describing Egyptian priests — already Reitzenstein saw in this description similarities to Pythagoreans — remarks that they rarely laugh and when they do never go beyond a smile.¹² We find the same restriction among early Christian monks.¹³ In the Life of Pachomius we meet the story of the boy Silvanus who is rebuked by Pachomius for his boisterous laughter (V. Pach. Φ 104), and when one of Pachomius' monks is about to visit another monastery, he is warned not to take offence at laughter (V. Pach. Φ 121); again, in the Life of St. Melania (c. 23), we hear that Melania instructs her sisters to laugh only in moderation. Melania's one-time friend, Jerome, was more severe and opposed laughter and jocularity, like the Fathers in general.¹⁴ One will therefore not be surprised that it is reported of Abba Pambo (372), in the fourth century, that he never laughed.

St. Anthony, according to Athanasius, also never laughed nor grieved (V. Anton. 14). The passage has been taken almost word-for-word from Porphyry's Life of Pythagoras (c. 35), and in its turn inspired Sulpicius Severus in his biography of St. Martin (c. 27.1). In these instances, however, laughter has become one item in a long list of emotions which the saint, in Stoic apatheia, was able to transcend; they are thus not exactly comparable.

Laughing boisterously is a letting oneself go, a temporary total relaxation. It is therefore a physical expression eminently opposed to a striving to keep all of life under control. Hence it should not cause surprise if social groups which attempt to keep in check all sorts of physical expression such as eating, sleeping, and sexuality, also, and particularly, object to laughter.

11. Pythagoreans: Alexis fr. 197 Kock. Plato, too, is portrayed as a grouch by the comic poet Amphis (fr. 13 Kock) — perhaps in analogy to the Pythagoreans. Pythagoras: Diog. Laert. 8.20; for Porphyry VP 35, see below. Naturally, the misanthrope Timon was also depicted as never laughing: Phrynichus F 19 Kassel-Austin.

12. Chaeremon FGH 618 F 6 = fr. 10 van der Horst, cp. Reitzenstein (see n. 3), 43-5; P.W. van der Horst, Chaeremon: Egyptian Priest and Stoic Philosopher (Leiden, 1987²), pp. 16-23 (text and translation), 56-61 (extensive commentary). In his Porphyry-edition (Budé 1982, 154), E. des Places draws a comparison between Pythagoras and Plato's advice (Laws 732c) to laugh in moderation; see also G.J. de Vries, 'Laughter in Plato's Writings', Mnemosyne IV (1985), 378-81.

13. For the medieval monks laughter was similarly problematic: I.M. Resnick, '"Risus monasticus". Laughter and Medieval Monastic Culture', Rev. Bénédictine 97 (1987), 90-100.

14. N. Adkin, 'The Fathers on Laughter', Orpheus NS 6 (1985), 149-52.

My pathos would be sure to make you laugh,
Were laughing not a habit you've unlearned.

Mein Pathos brächte dich gewiß zum Lachen,
Hättst du dir nicht das Lachen abgewöhnt.

In addition, Osiris never even once gulped his drink or so roared with laughter that it convulsed his whole body, as Typhos did constantly.

ἀλλ' οὐδὲ χανδόν ποτε Ὄσιρις ἔπιεν οὔτε ἐξεκάγχασεν ὡς εἶναι τὸν γέλωτα βρασμὸν ὅλου τοῦ σώματος ἅπερ Τυφὼς ἔδρα τε ὁσημέραι.

• Crassus Agelastus
• Did Adam Laugh Before the Fall?
• Against Laughter
• Agelasts
• Did Christ Ever Laugh?

Drink! Have fun! Life's mortal, and our time on earth's limited;
whereas death's immortal, once you're dead.

πῖνε, παῖζε· θνητὸς ὁ βίος, ὀλίγος οὑπὶ γῇ χρόνος·
ἀθάνατος ὁ θάνατός ἐστιν, ἂν ἅπαξ τις ἀποθάνῃ.

One glass and no refill
is life for men,
so keep on pouring till
Death says when.

Your country retreat is such a quiet place
I think of retiring each time I come
the Chungnan Mountains fill your doors and windows
the Feng River brightens your trees and garden
your bamboos bend with winter-long snow
your courtyard is dark before dusk
beyond the sound and reach of man
I sit and listen to the birds of spring

Your villa lies in such a secluded place,
I want to be a hermit when it comes into my eyes.
The Zhongnan Mountain is off the windows,
Past the garden and bamboo forest the Feng River flows.
Over bamboo leaves still remain last winter snows,
Before the sun sets, twilight upon courtyard it bestows.
It's still and tranquil beyond human noises,
Sitting idly, I listen to spring birds in different voices.

Good living to you, you gluttons, you guzzlers, good living to you, you bellies!

vivite lurcones, comedones, vivite ventris!

I am in despair about Boyse. He hath committed a crime (by report), the greatest, the most foolish, that man can be guilty of—a crime which will imbitter the remainder of his life, and render him odious and contemptible in my eyes for ever. How can I write it that it may not strike you with horror! He hath done what is shameful for very young, or very old men, and ridiculous for men of middle age to do—he hath married a wife. I shall never be able to abide him more, with his dear rib, and filthy squalling devils of children.

Never will you be able to master all things yourself:
on one man heaven bestows expertise in warfare,        730
on another in dancing, or in singing and playing the lyre,
while in yet another man's breast far-seeing Zeus implants
a clever mind, from which many people get benefit,
and many he saves, but he knows it most clearly himself.

ἀλλ᾽ οὔ πως ἅμα πάντα δυνήσεαι αὐτὸς ἑλέσθαι.
ἄλλῳ μὲν γὰρ ἔδωκε θεὸς πολεμήϊα ἔργα,        730
ἄλλῳ δ᾽ ὀρχηστύν, ἑτέρῳ κίθαριν καὶ ἀοιδήν,
ἄλλῳ δ᾽ ἐν στήθεσσι τιθεῖ νόον εὐρύοπα Ζεὺς
ἐσθλόν, τοῦ δέ τε πολλοὶ ἐπαυρίσκοντ᾽ ἄνθρωποι,
καί τε πολέας ἐσάωσε, μάλιστα δὲ καὐτὸς ἀνέγνω.

"Kirsopp Lake once remarked in my presence that his father, a physician, being asked late in life what had done the most in his lifetime to relieve human suffering, answered, 'Anaesthesia and the decay of Christian theology.' That was in 1922."

I am annoyed and depressed at all the city's affairs. For I see that she constantly employs scoundrels as her leaders. Even if one of them turns virtuous for one day, he'll turn out wicked for ten. You look to another one? He'll make even worse trouble.

                                     ἄχθομαι δὲ καὶ φέρω
τὰ τῆς πόλεως ἅπαντα βαρέως πράγματα.        175
ὁρῶ γὰρ αὐτὴν προστάταισι χρωμένην
ἀεὶ πονηροῖς. κἄν τις ἡμέραν μίαν
χρηστὸς γένηται, δέκα πονηρὸς γίγνεται.
ἐπέτρεψας ἑτέρῳ· πλείον᾿ ἔτι δράσει κακά.

As for the value of studying the language in the original, I think most of the good can be got out of translations. As a young man I read the New Testament in the original. The Greek, as Greek, was quite beneath contempt and the translation into early seventeenth-century English is far superior. Ninety per cent of good old Herodotus can be got in translation, and sixty or seventy per cent of Thucydides. Even the sainted Plato doesn't lose so much. I have to teach several of his best Dialogues to successive classes of students, and I often ask myself what value there is to the ideas in them that would justify a man for the labour of going to get up the language. It being forty years since I read Greek fluently I now take a Loeb translation with the English on a parallel page, but with the help of Liddell and Scott's lexicon I can generally tell where old Jowett is making a fool of himself, which is about every other sentence....

Come on, friend, drink! This too is a virtue,
to drink the most wine at the banquet
in expert fashion, and to encourage your fellow.
It's just as good to be sharp in the feast as in battle,
busy amid the grievous slaughter, where few men        5
are brave and withstand the furious fight.
I should count his glory equal, who
enjoys being at the feast, and encourages other folk to as well.
A man doesn't seem to me to be really alive, or to live
the life of a hardy mortal, if he        10
sits out the party restraining his appetite for the wine: he's an idiot.
Wine is as much of a blessing as fire for us on earth:
a good shield against harm, accompaniment to every song,
for it has in it a delightful element of the festive, of luxury,
of dancing, of entrancing love,        15
and a refuge from care and depression.
So you must take the toasts at the feast and
drink merrily, and not sit costive like a vulture
after you have fed your face, oblivious of good cheer.

ξεῖν᾿, ἄγε δὴ καὶ πῖν᾿· ἀρετή νύ τίς ἐστι καὶ αὕτη,
ὅς κ᾿ ἀνδρῶν πολὺ πλεῖστον ἐν εἰλαπίνῃ μέθυ πίνῃ
εὖ καὶ ἐπισταμένως, ἅμα τ᾿ ἄλλον φῶτα κελεύῃ.
ἶσον δ᾿ ὅς τ᾿ ἐν δαιτὶ καὶ ἐν πολέμῳ θοὸς ἀνήρ,
ὑσμίνας διέπων ταλαπενθέας, ἔνθά τε παῦροι        5
θαρσαλέοι τελέθουσι μένουσί τε θοῦρον ἄρηα.
τοῦ κεν ἐγὼ θείμην ἶσον κλέος, ὅς τ᾿ ἐνὶ δαιτί
τέρπηται παρεὼν ἅμα τ᾿ ἄλλον λαὸν ἀνώγῃ.
οὐ γάρ μοι ζώειν γε δοκεῖ βροτὸς οὐδὲ βιῶναι
ἀνθρώποιο βίον ταλασίφρονος, ὅστις ἀπ᾿ οἴνου        10
θυμὸν ἐρητύσας μείνηι πότον, ἀλλ᾿ ἐνεόφρων.
οἶνος γὰρ πυρὶ ἶσον ἐπιχθονίοισιν ὄνειαρ,
ἐσθλὸν ἀλεξίκακον, πάσης συνοπηδὸν ἀοιδῆς.
ἐν μὲν γὰρ θαλίης ἐρατὸν μέρος ἀγλαΐης τε,
ἐν δὲ χοροιτυπίης, ἐν δ᾿ ἱμερτῆς φιλότητος,        15
ἐν δέ τε μενθήρης καὶ δυσφροσύνης ἀλεωρή.
τώ σε χρὴ παρὰ δαιτὶ δεδεγμένον εὔφρονι θυμῷ
πίνειν, μηδὲ βορῆς κεκορημένον ἠΰτε γῦπα
ἧσθαι πλημύροντα, λελασμένον εὐφροσυνάων.

• Victor J. Matthews, Panyassis of Halikarnassos: Text and Commentary (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1974), pp. 74 ff.
• Tilman Krischer, "Panyassis und die Elegische Dichtung: Typologische Bemerkungen zu F 12," Hermes 102.2 (1974) 157-164
• Peter Roth, "Zu Panyassis F 12-14," Rheinisches Museum für Philologie 134.3/4 (1991) 238-252

Fragment 26: the word πέμματα already occurs in Solon frag. 38.3. There is no reason why Panyassis, any more than Herodotus, should have "borrowed" the word from Stesichoros. I can use the word "handbag" without having borrowed it from Oscar Wilde.

Fragment 28: Matthews suggests πῶς δὲ πορευθῇς, "how are you to cross?": Belfast Greek.

                                             Any mortal man who
counts on having anything he owns secure for life
is very much mistaken. For either a war-tax snatches away
all he has saved, or he becomes involved in a lawsuit and loses all,
or he is fined after serving in the War Office, or is chosen to finance a play,        5
and after supplying golden costumes for the chorus he has to wear rags himself;
or called to serve as trierarch, he hangs himself, or sailing in his ship he is captured somewhere,
or as he takes a walk or a nap he is murdered by his slaves.
No, nothing is certain, except what one may chance
to spend happily upon himself day by day.        10
And even that is not so very certain. Somebody might come and carry off the very table
spread with food. Rather, it's only when you've got your mouthful
past your teeth and have swallowed it down
that you can count it the one thing safe among your possessions.

ὅστις ἄνθρωπος δὲ φὺς
ἀσφαλές τι κτῆμ᾿ ὑπάρχειν τῷ βίῳ λογίζεται,
πλεῖστον ἡμάρτηκεν. ἢ γὰρ εἰσφορά τις ἥρπακεν
τἄνδοθεν πάντ᾿ ἤ δίκῃ τις περιπεσὼν ἀπώλετο
ἢ στρατηγήσας προσῶφλεν ἤ χορηγὸς αἱρεθεὶς        5
ἱμάτια χρυσᾶ παρασχὼν τῷ χορῷ ῥάκος φορεῖ
ἥ τριηραρχῶν ἀπήγξατ᾿ ἢ πλέων ἥλωκέ ποι
ἤ βαδίζων ἢ καθεύδων κατακέκοφθ᾿ ὑπ᾿ οἰκετῶν.
οὐ βέβαιον οὐθέν ἐστι, πλὴν ὅσ᾿ ἂν καθ᾿ ἡμέραν
εἰς ἑαυτὸν ἡδέως τις εἰσαναλίσκων τύχῃ,        10
οὐδὲ ταῦτα σφόδρα τι· καὶ γὰρ τὴν τράπεζαν ἁρπάσαι
κειμένην ἄν τις προσελθών· ἀλλ᾿ ὅταν τὴν ἔνθεσιν
ἐντὸς ἤδη τῶν ὀδόντων τυγχάνῃς κατεσπακώς,
τοῦτ᾿ ἐν ἀσφαλεῖ νόμιζε τῶν ὑπαρχόντων μόνον.

Of course my chief activity was preparing myself for Cambridge, as I had to take 'Little-Go' in the spring.⁷⁷ This entrance examination is now abolished but in those days it included French, Paley's Evidence of Christianity, mathematics, Latin and Greek.⁷⁸ In some of these subjects I had qualified at school and others, like Paley's Evidence, I could do by myself. What I had to have help with was maths, because I was hopeless at it, and Greek, because I had never done it. The whole thing was absurd, as one could, I believe, pass on 33% and, with the Latin and Greek papers, you could have dictionaries. Somehow or other I had to acquaint myself with Greek grammar, St Mark's gospel, Prometheus Bound, Xenophon's Anabasis and all in a few months. My father in the matter of our education never left a stone unturned to get us the best possible help. He therefore went to the university for advice and was recommended to the noted university coach, a Mr Grime, who was persuaded to give me individual lessons in Greek and maths.⁷⁹

Mr Grime was a strange looking man with a rather bald, domed head and a huge, drooping red moustache; I went to him in the lunch hour twice a week. I soon found he was proof against all coaxing and feminine wiles. When I could not do my algebra equations, I looked at him appealingly and suggested that we should do them together. 'Now Miss Hopkinson, that won't do at all, you must sit there and try. I shall leave the room and give you ten minutes'; so I suppose I did them. As to Greek, I one day caused him some embarrassment. We were translating Xenophon's Anabasis and he asked me if there was anything I did not understand. 'Well,' I said, `I understand all right, but why on earth should the Greek army take beautiful painted boys in front of them into battle? What could they want with them?'

'You are using an unabridged edition, there's nothing about such a thing in mine', replied Mr Grime. 'We'll leave that alone, and change your book please.'

Seeing there was some mystery, I pressed on.

'Can't you explain?'

'No.'

'All right,' I said, 'I'll ask my father tonight.'

'Undoubtedly the best thing to do' were Mr Grime's last words.

⁷⁷ Little-Go was a special examination in Cambridge for students prior to or shortly after matriculation, to enable the university to verify the student's quality. It was abolished in 1960.

⁷⁸ William Paley (1743-1805) was an English clergyman and philosopher who wrote several works dealing with the existence of God.

⁷⁹ Presumably this was J.E. Grime, who in 1912 established Grime's Manchester Tutorial College Ltd. at 327 Oxford Road.

And when the Greeks, as they proceeded, were among the friendly Mossynoecians, they would exhibit to them fattened children of the wealthy inhabitants, who had been nourished on boiled nuts and were soft and white to an extraordinary degree, and pretty nearly equal in length and breadth, with their backs adorned with many colours and their fore parts all tattooed with flower patterns.

ἐπεὶ δὲ πορευόμενοι ἐν τοῖς φίλοις ἦσαν, ἐπεδείκνυσαν αὐτοῖς παῖδας τῶν εὐδαιμόνων σιτευτούς, τεθραμμένους καρύοις ἑφθοῖς, ἁπαλοὺς καὶ λευκοὺς σφόδρα καὶ οὐ πολλοῦ δέοντας ἴσους τὸ μῆκος καὶ τὸ πλάτος εἶναι, ποικίλους δὲ τὰ νῶτα καὶ τὰ ἔμπροσθεν πάντα ἐστιγμένους ἀνθέμια.

These Mossynoecians wanted also to have intercourse openly with the women who accompanied the Greeks, for that was their own fashion.

ἐζήτουν δὲ καὶ ταῖς ἑταίραις ἅς ἦγον οἱ Ἕλληνες, ἐμφανῶς συγγίγνεσθαι· νόμος γὰρ ἦν οὗτός σφισι.

WE. Can I, unaided, do such feats as these?
CH. O yes, by Zeus, and many more than these.
So that none ever has enough of thee.
Of all things else a man may have too much,
Of love, CAR. Of loaves, CH. Of literature, CAR. Of sweets,        190
CH. Of honour, CAR. Cheesecakes, CH. Manliness, CAR. Dried figs,
CH. Ambition, CAR. Barley-meal, CH. Command, CAR. Pea soup.
CH. But no man ever has enough of thee.
For give a man a sum of thirteen talents,
And all the more he hungers for sixteen;        195
Give him sixteen, and he must needs have forty,
Or life's not worth his living, so he says.

ΠΛ. ἐγὼ τοσαῦτα δυνατός εἰμ᾿ εἷς ὢν ποιεῖν;
ΧΡ. καὶ ναὶ μὰ Δία τούτων γε πολλῷ πλείονα·
ὥστ᾿ οὐδὲ μεστός σου γέγον᾿ οὐδεὶς πώποτε.
τῶν μὲν γὰρ ἄλλων ἐστὶ πάντων πλησμονή·
ἔρωτος, ΚΑΡ. ἄρτων, ΧΡ. μουσικῆς, ΚΑΡ. τραγημάτων,        190
ΧΡ. τιμῆς, ΚΑΡ. πλακούντων, ΧΡ. ἀνδραγαθίας, ΚΑΡ. ἰσχάδων,
ΧΡ. φιλοτιμίας, ΚΑΡ. μάζης, ΧΡ. στρατηγίας, ΚΑΡ. φακῆς.
ΧΡ. σοῦ δ᾿ ἐγένετ᾿ οὐδεὶς μεστὸς οὐδεπώποτε.
ἀλλ᾿ ἢν τάλαντά τις λάβῃ τριακαίδεκα,
πολὺ μᾶλλον ἐπιθυμεῖ λαβεῖν ἑκκαίδεκα·        195
κἂν ταῦθ᾿ ἁνύσηται, τετταράκοντα βούλεται,
ἢ φησὶν οὐ βιωτὸν αὐτῷ τὸν βίον.

ὅρα πῶς ὁ δεσπότης τὰ πρέποντα αὐτῷ λέγει, ὁ δοῦλος τὰ συμφέροντα αὐτῷ.

See how the master mentions the things suitable to him, the slave the things profitable to him.

I'm sure that it's obvious, but in addition to what the scholion mentions, the comedy of the scene is brought out by the call-and-response. Each time Chremylus mentions one of life's finer pleasures, Cario answers back with food. Then Chremylus tries again and Cario just one-ups him again. The meter is what makes it fun, since each one has to answer on the beat. It is almost possible to see the actors performing it on the Athenian stage.

I've bolded the ictus-bearing syllables:

ΧΡ. ἔρωτος, ΚΑΡ. ἄρτων,
ΧΡ. μουσικῆς, ΚΑΡ. τραγημάτων, //
ΧΡ. τιμῆς, ΚΑΡ. πλακούντων,
ΧΡ. ἀνδραγαθίας, ΚΑΡ. ἰσχάδων, //
ΧΡ. φιλοτιμίας, ΚΑΡ. μάζης,
ΧΡ. στρατηγίας, ΚΑΡ. φακῆς. //

(In ἀνδραγαθίας, I took the second syllable of the tribrach as the ictus, following Allen's secondary stress theory.)

Shakespeare sometimes does this sort of thing. Some of the scenes between Petruchio and Katherina come close. But I can't think of a direct parallel. There must be one somewhere, maybe in Shakespeare or a Broadway (or Disney) musical.

"At what period of your life," he was once asked, "did you begin to feel that you had a grasp of your subject?"

He replied, somewhat brusquely for him, "Never."