Chapter 6

The Athenian Koine or “Vulgate” version of Homer, even if it were to have no claim to be the original Homer any more than the text established by Aristarchus, represents a crucial era in the history of Homeric performance traditions. This is the next argument to be made, added as a qualification to my earlier argument that we cannot simplistically apply the criteria of right or wrong, better or worse, original or altered, in the editorial process of sorting out the Homeric variants transmitted by Aristarchus or by earlier sources. It is indeed justifiable, however, to ask whether a variant is authentic or not—provided we understand “authentic” to mean in conformity with traditional oral epic diction. [1]

Further, it is justifiable to ask whether a given variant can be assigned to a particular period. In the scheme of five periods in the history of Homeric transmission, formulated at the beginning of the previous chapter, I propose that the variants attributed by Didymus and, ultimately, by Aristarchus to the Koine version of Homer tend to converge toward period 3, while the variants often preferred by Aristarchus himself or by other Alexandrian critics are typical of periods 4 and 5. This is not going so far as to say that some variants go all the way back to period 3 while others go only as far back as periods 4 and 5. It is only to say that certain kinds of variants seem to predominate at certain periods within the continuum of Homeric transmission. And it still remains to ask what if any distinguishing features we may find in an Athenian Koine version of period 3—an era defined in the previous chapter {153|154} as extending from the middle of the sixth century BCE to the later part of the fourth.

Let us briefly review the terminology. T. W. Allen’s summary concerning the terms koinḗ (singular) and koinaí (plural) is instructive: Allen’s notion of “modernism” is also instructive: “In an unfenced text the single tendency that is constant is that to modernism, the effect of the ambient: our printed Bibles, Shakespeares, Miltons have long since been adduced.” [3]

There is a problem with this formulation. As we have seen in the previous chapter, the variants in the Koine textual tradition of Homer are in fact frequently more archaic than those found in the edited versions of the Alexandrian scholars. Thus the Koine is by no means the most “modernistic” version of Homer. Some, in fact, would claim just the opposite. For example, Richard Janko and others who agree with the theory of a dictated Homer text interpret the archaisms of the Koine as proof that this particular textual tradition comes closest to a hypothetical archetype, a dictated text stemming from the eighth century BCE. [4] According to this theory, the Koine is a sort of default category, a core text that reflects the Homeric “archetype” more closely and accurately than do the texts of Aristarchus and the other Alexandrian scholars who came before him. [5]

But there is a problem with this formulation as well. As we have also seen in the previous chapter, many Homeric variants {154|155} reported by the Alexandrian scholars as alternatives to the variants in the Koine can be shown to be just as authentic in their own right. So if indeed the Koine textual tradition of Homer is no more “original” than other traditions, then the question is: what if anything makes the Koine distinct?

In terms of my evolutionary model of Homeric text fixation, what stands out about the Koine is precisely the fact that it is not at all some kind of systematically “modernized” version, and to this extent I resist Allen’s quoted description. On the other hand, we can in principle accept Allen’s notion of an unfenced text—provided we restrict the description “unfenced” to Homeric Koine texts as transcripts of performances. The point is, however, that the actual performance traditions as reflected by the posited transcripts seem to be anything but unfenced. A salient example is the principle of a fixed numerus versuum: as suggested in the previous chapter, this principle of Homeric transmission can be explained as a performative as well as textual norm. [6] Patterns of stabilization in length of performance need not presuppose the agency of a written text. [7] Following up on this line of thinking, I raised the possibility that these and other patterns of performance stabilization are connected with patterns of performance regulation by the Athenian State. [8] That possibility will now be explored in depth.

Let us adopt for the moment the standpoint of Homer experts who do not reckon with the dimension of performance in the history of Homeric transmission. For them, the evidence of a fixed numerus versuum argues for the concept of an Athenian Homer text as a historical reality. [9] From this standpoint, the Athenian Homer is in effect a “fenced” text, not an “unfenced” one as it is for Allen. [10] From the standpoint of my argument, however, it is an oversimplification to posit a “fenced” Athenian {155|156} text. The Koine or “Vulgate” version of Homer may be traced back to a “fenced” tradition of performance, located primarily in Athens during “period 3,” which extends from the middle of the sixth century BCE to the later part of the fourth. Granted, we may expect that the concept of such a “fenced” Athenian tradition was indeed moving toward the status of a text, especially toward the end of “period 3,” but it is useful for now to maintain a distinction between this kind of “text” and the ultimate form of Homer. An apt term for the “fenced” Homer tradition at the end of “period 3” is script.

I will introduce several different pieces of evidence to justify the application of this term to the late Koine version of Homer, as also to later versions. The centerpiece will be a passage taken from Athenaeus (14.620b-c), which suggests that Homeric performance traditions were reformed in Athens at the initiative of Demetrius of Phaleron. This is the Demetrius who, as we learn from other sources, came to power at Athens in 317 and ruled until 307 BCE, when he was overthrown. [11] Since our basic attested source concerning Demetrius and his reform of Homeric performance traditions is going to be this single passage from a relatively late author, Athenaeus of Naucratis (who flourished around 200 CE), and since the wording of this passage, as we are about to see, is opaque and difficult to interpret, it is essential for the sake of an overall perspective to begin with a brief outline of the some historical facts, as known from other sources, concerning Demetrius as a reformer of Athenian traditions. [12] It is only from the perspective of this historical background that we may then more fully appreciate the implications of the relevant passage in Athenaeus (14.620b-c), to be quoted and analyzed later on.

For purposes of the present argument, the most important historical fact to keep in mind about Demetrius of Phaleron is that he was the reformer of many Athenian institutions. He is best known for having initiated a major reform of Athenian State {156|157} Theater in the fourth quarter of the fourth century, [13] following the patterns of an earlier reformer, the statesman Lycurgus, in the third quarter. [14] Demetrius took the decisive step of abolishing the khorēgía, that is, the duty imposed on wealthy citizens to finance the choruses of State Theater. [15] From around 309 BCE onward, the Athenian State went beyond the earlier pattern of paying salaries to the actors, hereafter paying salaries also to the chorus and even financing its costumes. [16]

Demetrius is also credited with other reforms, each of which was seemingly intended to insure the prevalence of canonical forms. For example, he was responsible for a collection of a corpus of popular tradition that has come down to us as the Fables of Aesop: in Diogenes Laertius 5.80, we read ἀλλὰ μὴν καὶ λόγων Αἰσωπείων συναγωγαί, and, in 5.81, there is a reference to this corpus in the bibliographical listing of his works: Αἰσωπείων α'. [17] Demetrius also had a role in establishing a canonical form for the ongoing lore about the Seven Sages (Stobaeus 3.79 and 43.131). [18] Demetrius is the same man, it should be added, who was author of two volumes entitled “On the Iliad” (Περὶ Ἰλιάδος α' β') and four volumes entitled “On the Odyssey” (Περὶ Ὀδυσσείας α' β' γ' δ'), according to Diogenes Laertius (5.81).

With this historical background, let us now turn to the key passage suggesting that Demetrius had reformed the institution of Homeric performances in Athens: {157|158}

According to this passage, the contents of which are repeated by Eustathius (4.937.19–24), Demetrius of Phaleron transferred the performances of Homer ‘into the theaters’, as we see from the highlighted wording, and the performers of this reformed performance tradition are ‘nowadays’ called Homēristaí. The wording here allows a variety of interpretations. My own is this: that the Homēristaí eventually replaced the earlier category of rhapsōidoí or rhapsodes. Since Athenaeus is linking performances in theaters by Homēristaí with historically attested performances in theaters by rhapsōidoí, we may infer that he thinks of the Homēristaí as continuing in the traditions of the rhapsodes—this despite the {159|160} likelihood that the performance traditions of the Homēristaí, as we will see below, evolved into something quite different from the traditions of the earlier rhapsodes. As we begin to recognize the differences, however, we should at the same time keep in mind that the performance traditions of fifth- and fourth-century rhapsodes, who apparently declaimed in recitative style, without musical accompaniment, were in turn quite different from those of the even earlier aoidoí ‘singers’ as they are actually portrayed by the Homeric narrative. [23]

I argue, then, for a historical connection between rhapsōidoí and Homēristaí on the basis of the passage just quoted from Athenaeus (14.620b-c). These arguments are in general agreement with conclusions reached by the papyrologist Geneviève Husson, and we will examine presently some of the supporting evidence that she adduces. [24] In earlier work on this Athenaeus passage, I had already posited a continuity between the rhapsōidoí and the Homēristaí, though at the same time I stressed the differences between the two designations of performers, recognizing that the testimony of Athenaeus may well have conflated various different stages in the evolution of performance traditions. [25]

Granting that there are differences, I propose to defend the connection between rhapsōidoí and Homēristaí made by our source here, Athenaeus of Naucratis (around 200 CE), who cites the {160|161} authority of Aristocles (between first century BCE and first century CE). [26] I will also defend the connection that Athenaeus makes between Demetrius of Phaleron and the shifting of performances of Homer ‘into the theaters’, in which context Athenaeus identifies the performers as the Homēristaí. [27] Then, on the basis of morphological parallels about to be adduced, we will consider the possibility that the term goes as far back as Demetrius himself. As we proceed, it is important to keep in mind that, even if the word Homēristaí goes as far back as the era of Demetrius of Phaleron, it does not follow that Homeric performers known by such a name in the late fourth century BCE would have been just like the Homēristaí in the era of Athenaeus, at the beginning of the third century CE, about half a millennium later. [28]

Let us begin by considering a premier example of rhapsode-style performance in theaters, as cited by Athenaeus in the same passage quoted above: he is someone called Hermophantos, who is described, towards the end of our passage, as ‘acting’ the poems of Homer at a performance in the Great Theater of Alexandria. The authority cited by Athenaeus for this information, Jason of Nysa (first century BCE), takes us back to the Ptolemaic era. [29] We may compare another passage that deals with the performance of a rhapsode in the Ptolemaic era of Alexandria:

There is also earlier and to that extent even more valuable evidence connecting the performance of Homer with theatrical traditions. Already in Plato’s Ion, we see the figure of Socrates making an explicit equation between the rhapsōidós ‘rhapsode’ and the hupokritḗs ‘actor’ (536a). [32] The rhapsode Ion himself is vividly portrayed as a master of histrionics (535c). [33] Aristotle too in his Poetics notes an overlap between the art of the rhapsode and that of the actor in drama, commenting on what he considers to be overacting on the part of one particular rhapsode, Sosistratos by name, specifically with regard to this man’s use of physical dramatic gestures (1462a6). [34]

We find further evidence for a relatively early theatricalization of rhapsodic traditions when we look beyond the references to a specifically Homeric repertoire on the part of rhapsodes. Let us begin with Plato’s Ion, where we learn that a rhapsode’s repertoire could include not only Homer and Hesiod but also Archilochus (531a, 532a). [35] In light of this information, we may look back at the extended passage in Athenaeus (14.620b-c), where we saw sources from the third century BCE reporting rhapsodic performances of Archilochean poetry in particular (Clearchus) and {162|163} “iambic” poetry in general (Lysanias). [36] We may note in both sets of testimony the strong emphasis on the theatrical aspects of performance: the rhapsodic performance of Archilochean poetry by Simonides of Zacynthus is said to take place in theaters [théatra] (Clearchus), while Mnasion the rhapsode is said to act [hupokrínesthai] in his performances [deíxis plural] of íamboi ‘iambs’ (Athenaeus 14.620c).

In this connection, it is crucial to compare a statement made by Aristotle in his Politics (1336b20–22): τοὺς δὲ νεωτέρους οὔτ᾿ ἰάμβων οὔτε κωμῳδίας θεατὰς θετέον, πρὶν ἢ τὴν ἡλικίαν λάβωσιν ἐν ᾗ καὶ κατακλίσεως ὑπάρξει κοινωνεῖν ἤδη καὶ μέθης, καὶ τῆς ἀπὸ τῶν τοιούτων γιγνομένης βλάβης ἀπαθεῖς ἡ παιδεία ποιήσει πάντως ‘it should be ordained that younger men not be theater-goers [theataí] of íamboi or of comedy until they reach the age where they have the opportunity to participate in lying down together at table and getting intoxicated [that is, to participate in symposia], at which point their education [paideía] will make them altogether immune to the harmful effect of these things’. [37] I infer that Aristotle is contrasting professional performance by rhapsodes or actors in theaters with amateur performance at symposia, and that he has in mind such poets as Archilochus {163|164} when he speaks of the performance of íamboi, presumably by rhapsodes, as parallel to the performance of comedy by actors. [38]

Let us pursue further, now moving considerably ahead in time, the connection made by the third century BCE sources of Athenaeus (14.620b-c) between rhapsode-style performance and the setting of theaters. There is an incidental reference to theatrical performances of Homer in Achilles Tatius (3.20.4): τῶν τὰ Ὁμήρου τῷ στόματι δεικνύντων ἐν τοῖς θεάτροις ‘those who perform [deiknúnai] the poems of Homer orally in theaters’. [39] Let us now consider a related passage, by the same author, where the art of performing Homeric poems is designated by the verb Homērízein. It is this verb, of course, from which Homēristaí is derived. As we examine this passage, we will note various allusions to the theatricality of Homeric performance in what seems to be a parody of the very ideology of paideía ‘education’ in the arts. The context is this: in a legal wrangle, a speaker is attacking his opponent by portraying him as a moral degenerate. The man’s degeneracy is being expressed metaphorically in a humorous narrative about his counterfeit paideía ‘education’ in the arts, as it were, where the idea of practicing the art par excellence seems to be equated mockingly with a theatrical image of ‘playing the Homēristḗs’. The central joke is in the word itself, since the form Homērízein is being used here as a pun to convey a sexual double entendre (mēr in the sense of ‘thigh’):

Given that the art of the rhapsode was becoming ever more theatrical and mimetic over time, as we see from the testimony of Plato and Aristotle already in the fourth century BCE, we have reason to expect Athenaeus, near the beginning of the third century CE, to assume that the theatrical tradition of the Homēristaí was ultimately derived from an earlier rhapsodic heritage. Further, on the basis of Aristotle’s remark about stylized physical gestures in the mimesis of Homer—let us say the acting of Homer—we have reason to expect such specific aspects of mimetic performance to become ever more pronounced with the passage of time. Let us consider a case in point, with explicit reference to Homēristaí. In the Interpretation of Dreams by Artemidorus (4.2 p. 205 ed. Hercher), dated to the second century CE, there is an anecdote about a surgeon who once dreamed that he was acting Homer, expressed by the verb Homērízein (ὁμηρίζειν νομίσας), and the reason given for this dream is a mechanical analogy between the motions made by surgeons as they make their incisions and the motions made by Homēristaí as they make their gestures of wounding opponents with weapons and drawing blood: καὶ γὰρ οἱ ὁμηρισταὶ τιτρώσκουσι μὲν καὶ αἱμάσσουσιν, ἀλλ᾿ οὐκ ἀποκτεῖναί γε βούλονται· οὕτω δὲ καὶ ὁ χειρουργός ‘for just {165|166} as the Homēristaí make wounds and draw blood, without any intention of killing, so also does the surgeon’. [41]

There is a comparable reference to Homēristaí in Petronius (Satyricon 59.2–6), where the histrionics of these performers are being ridiculed as an abstruse exercise in art, on display for pretentious but ludicrously ignorant connoisseurs. [42] In this humorous account, the host Trimalchio starts by saying (59.2–3): ...simus ergo, quod melius est, a primitiis hilares et Homeristas spectemus ‘so let us be festive, which is better, right from the start; let us watch the Homēristaí. At that point (59.4–6), intravit factio statim hastisque scuta concrepuit. ipse Trimalchio in pulvino consedit, et cum Homeristae Graecis versibus colloquerentur, ut insolenter solent, ille canora voce Latine legebat librum. mox silentio facto “scitis” inquit “quam fabulam agant? Diomedes et Ganymedes duo fratres fuerunt. horum soror erat Helena. Agamemnon illam rapuit...” ‘there entered right away a troupe [of Homēristaí], beating on their shields with their spears. Trimalchio himself sat down on his cushion and, while the Homēristaí were having their dialogues in Greek verses, in their usual pompous manner, he [Trimalchio], in a sonorous voice, was reading along, in Latin, from a scroll. [43] Then after a moment of silence, he said: “do you know what story they are acting? Well Diomedes and Ganymedes were two brothers. They had a sister, Helen, and Agamemnon abducted her ...”’[this display of Trimalchio’s faulty education continues through section 6]. When Trimalchio finishes (59.6): haec ut dixit Trimalchio, clamorem Homeristae sustulerunt, ... ‘when Trimalchio said these things, the Homēristaí raised a clamor ...’.

These passages from Artemidorus and Petronius show clear signs of a newer and ever more theatrical stage in the lengthy history of Homeric performance traditions—a stage where these traditions come closest to our own contemporary notion of a “script.” We begin to appreciate from these later sources just {166|167} how far the theatrical conventions in the performance of Homer have evolved from the conventions envisioned by earlier sources. We have just seen in the passage from Artemidorus that the Homēristaí actually act out the wounding of opponents with weapons. Now we see in Petronius that such explicitly mimetic gestures are being reinforced by stage props, as it were, such as spears and shields. [44] Moreover, in the passage from Petronius, it appears that different players take on different roles in enacting a Homeric scene. The players seem to have speaking parts, delivered in Greek verses (to be contrasted with Trimalchio’s Latin), apparently representing the speeches of Homeric heroes engaged in combat with each other. I infer that these dialogues were dramatically excerpted—or let us say “scripted”—from actual combat scenes contained by the overall Homeric narrative. Thus I propose to adjust, ever so slightly, a formulation concerning the Artemidorus and the Petronius passages: according to Louis Robert, the Homēristaí mimed battles. [45] Surely the activity of miming does not exclude the factor of speaking parts, delivered in Greek verse. Still, my use of the expression “speaking parts” shows just how far removed we now are, as we contemplate this particular moment in the history of Homeric performance, from the early traditions of the rhapsodes. The text of Homer has achieved the status of a “script.” [46]

The usage of calling the performers of Homer Homēristaí, as made explicit in the literary passages surveyed so far, is confirmed by the attested references in documentary papyri to live performances of Homer in Hellenized Egypt: [47] {167|168}

Let us start with papyrus 5, which is the text of a contract formalized by the magistrates of the metropolis of Oxyrhynchus for the engagement of a Homēristḗs and a dramatic mime (biológos) who are to travel all the way to the metropolis of Arsinoe in order to perform at a seasonally-recurring festival of Kronos. [50] From the context, Geneviève Husson infers that Oxyrhynchus must have had a special reputation for producing artisans of this kind. [51] Next we look at papyrus 1: here the performance of, again, a Homēristḗs, who is to be paid 448 drachmas, is slated to occur after that of a mime, who is to get 496 drachmas, and before that of a dancer, whose wages can be reconstructed at somewhere between 100 and 200 drachmas. [52] In papyrus 4 as well, a Homēristḗs and a mime are listed alongside each other. [53] As Husson notes, all these occasions of performance by Homēristaí are festivals. [54] Moreover, the dates of all these occasions are not far removed from the era of our main source about Homēristaí, Athenaeus of Naucratis (around 200 CE). It is realistic, no doubt, to be reminded again that we are by now over 500 years removed from {168|169} the glory days of Demetrius of Phaleron, whom Athenaeus credits with the theatricalization of rhapsodes. But it is also realistic to keep in mind the continuity, however transformed, of Hellenic culture even half a millennium later. As Husson points out, for example, the metropolis of Oxyrhynchus had a theater with a seating capacity of over 10,000. [55] Such theaters were to be found throughout the Hellenic cities that dotted the Egyptian hinterland or khṓra, and Husson reminds us that the cultural vitality of urban life in that era can in no way be imagined as a phenomenon restricted to a small handful of “gymnasium élite.” [56] It is clear even from the theatrical events mentioned in our Oxyrhynchus papyri that Hellenic institutions actively coexisted with Egyptian counterparts: in the papyrus mentioning the festival of Kronos, for example, on which occasion there was a Homēristḗs contracted to perform, it appears that the cult of the god Anubis also figures prominently. [57]

For yet another attestation of Homēristḗs, we turn to an inscription, published by Charlotte Roueché, [58] that was found by excavators on the side of a doorway leading into Room 6 behind the stage front of the theater at Aphrodisias in Caria: it reads Δημητρίου ὁμηριστοῦ διασκεύη ‘equipment of Demetrius the Homēristḗs’, [59] and its date cannot be much later than the end of the third century CE. [60] As in the case of the evidence from Oxyrhynchus, the naming of this Homēristḗs occurs in a context associated with mimes: the inscriptions on the sides of other doorways leading into other rooms behind the stage designate mimes (as in the case of Room 1: Παρδαλᾶ μειμολόγου). [61] In this era, however, it must be kept in mind that such an association does {169|170} not reflect negatively on the Homēristaí, since the status (and prestige) of mimes was ascending exponentially throughout the Hellenic areas of the Empire at around the time of the third century. [62] The question, then, is not whether the status of Homēristaí was declining with the passage of time: what needs to be determined, rather, is to what extent their very identity was becoming assimilated to that of mimes. [63] The mimetic connotations of this particular attestation of a Homēristḗs at Aphrodisias in the third century CE bring us to a remarkable additional detail: inscribed above the name of Demetrius the Homēristḗs is the following phrase: ἐγενήσθη Ἀλέξανδρος ‘he became Alexander’. [64] Here is an interpretation, considered by Roueché: ‘he was (acted) Alexander, i.e. Paris’. [65] If this particular interpretation is right, then Demetrius the Homēristḗs is known for his acting—or, let us say, re-enacting—of Paris in the Iliad.

The picture that we see emerging in the second and third centuries CE, that of Homer as an obviously excerpted “script” to be performed by Homēristaí in a stylized mimetic format, can be seen as a terminal or at least near-terminal stage in the history of Homeric performance. [66] This has been my argument so far. {170|171} To be sure, any continuum entails discontinuities as well as continuities—one might say that this is the essence of Hellenism, even of tradition itself—but I maintain that the cumulative evidence of the traces that we have examined up to now does indeed seem to bear out the suggestion made in the passage of Athenaeus that the Homēristaí continued the traditions of the rhapsōidoí.

There are further traces of Homēristaí to be found, in Eustathius. Here we must be even more cautious, given that this scholar of the twelfth century CE often makes spectacular mistakes in his own internalized chronology of the cultural history of Classical and post-Classical Athens, Ptolemaic and post-Ptolemaic Egypt. At the very beginning of his Prolegomena to his Commentary on the Iliad (p. 1 ed. Van der Valk), for example, Eustathius treats Aristarchus as a predecessor of Zenodotus, and he assigns both scholars to the era of Peisistratos. Still, Eustathius had access to information that was often more complete than what we now have, as for example in the case of the Athenaeus text that he used for reference, and thus the actual information that he gives can be valuable even when his own interpretation of that information may not be so. [67] Let us begin with two cases of the noun itself, Homēristaí. In one case (Eustathius 4.937), the information replicates what we have just read in Athenaeus (14.620b-c). [68] In the other case (Eustathius 4.970), the reference is en passant, as if Homēristaí had once been the standard word for ‘performers of Homer’: ταῦτα δὲ πάντα καὶ ὅσα τοιαῦτα ὑποκρουσάμενος τοῖς Ὁμηρισταῖς ὁ ποιητὴς αὐτὸς αὖθις ἐπελύσατο διά τε θείων προσώπων καὶ διὰ λόγων δεξιότητος... ‘being faulted for all these things [that is, for various narrative inconsistencies] and for however many other such things by the Homēristaí, the poet himself provided explanations’. I find this second reference significant precisely because it is used so casually—not just by Eustathius but also, presumably, by his ancient source. [69] {171|172}

Let us note in this connection a further comment, made at an earlier point by Eustathius (1.9) in the Prolegomena to his commentary on the Iliad, that performers whom he describes as “those in a later period” had “acted Homeric poetry in a more dramatic fashion,” with performers of the Iliad wearing costumes dyed red and those of the Odyssey, purple (εἰ δὲ καὶ τὴν Ὁμηρικὴν ποίησιν οἱ ὕστερον ὑπεκρίνοντο δραματικώτερον, τὴν μὲν Ὀδύσσειαν ἐν ἁλουργοῖς ἐσθήμασι, τὴν δὲ Ἰλιάδα ἐν ἐρυθροβαφέσιν). [70] Eustathius makes this comment in the context of conceding that Homeric poetry had indeed been acted like tragedy, even though it was not called drama (οὐ μὴν δράματα, ὡς τὰ παρὰ τοῖς τραγικοῖς). Given the explicit association of the Homēristaí with the theatricalization of Homeric performance traditions, as we have seen from the passage in Athenaeus, I infer that Eustathius—or, better, perhaps his source, who may be Athenaeus—is referring to the Homēristaí when he speaks here of “those in a later period” who “acted Homeric poetry in a more dramatic fashion” (to repeat, τὴν Ὁμηρικὴν ποίησιν οἱ ὕστερον ὑπεκρίνοντο δραματικώτερον).

Let us return to the evidence of the extant papyri, all dated to the second or third century CE, concerning the performances of Homēristaí. It is important to note that these attestations come {172|173} from a relatively late era—considerably later than that of the “eccentric” Homer papyri of 300 to 150 BCE or so. I have already argued that a phase of relatively more fluidity in the Homeric performance tradition, as reflected in the “eccentric” papyri, was coming to a halt by around 150 BCE, after which time both the performance tradition and the commercial “books” or scrolls of Homer could revert to reflecting more closely an earlier and more canonical Athenian rhapsodic performance tradition. [71] But we have yet to consider fully whether the very term Homēristaí is related to such an earlier, more canonical, rhapsodic tradition.

True, the attestations of this term are so relatively late that we cannot be sure, at this point in the argument, whether it is justifiable to date the institution of Homēristaí as far back as the fourth century BCE. For now, at least, the only direct textual evidence we have for this argument is the passage in Athenaeus 14.620b-c, already quoted, which suggests that the Homēristaí are offshoots of Homeric performance traditions as reformed by Demetrius. What follows, however, is additional textual evidence for taking the actual term Homēristaí all the way back to the era of Demetrius. Also, I will present arguments for linking this term with the idea of a fourth-century “State Script.”

We have already noted that Demetrius of Phaleron, apparently credited in Athenaeus (14.620b-c) with a reform of Homeric performance traditions at Athens towards the end of the fourth century, is definitely to be credited with a major reform of Athenian State Theater. By abolishing the khorēgía, he brought about the ultimate professionalization of the chorus, that former bastion of non-professional and “liberal” education. [72] Thanks to the reforms of Demetrius, as we have seen, the Athenian State was hereafter paying salaries not only to the actors, as it had already before, but also to the chorus, even financing its costumes. [73] In other words, Demetrius legitimated the evolution of a relatively more professionalized corps of actors in State Theater. [74] This {173|174} historical fact suggests that a new detail can be added to the argument: extrapolating from Athenaeus (14.620b-c), I now propose that Demetrius legitimated the evolution of a corps of Homeric performers who were relatively more professionalized than earlier performers—and who may have been actually called Homēristaí.

There are in fact historical precedents, beyond the reform of Athenian State Theater instituted by Demetrius himself in the fourth quarter of the fourth century, for this same man’s reform of Homeric performance traditions. A few years earlier, in the third quarter of the fourth century, we find that Lycurgus of Athens had instituted something that seems analogous: this statesman had initiated reforms in the performance traditions of State Theater in Athens, legislating an official “State Script” for the tragedies of three poets and three poets only, Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. [75] The crucial piece of evidence comes from a compressed and problematic passage in [“Plutarch”] Lives of the Ten Orators (841f). [76] According to this passage, Lycurgus introduced a law requiring that the Athenians erect bronze statues of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, and that the State make official the texts of the tragedies of these three poets in the following way:

With reference to this passage about Lycurgus, one scholar has suggested the following possible interpretation: “Did the recorder [grammateús] perhaps attend rehearsals ... with the official text in front of him, following the rehearsal in his text and pointing out whenever the actors departed from it, so as to ensure that they got it right in the actual performance?” [81] Another possibility is that the grammateús read out the text in advance, [82] in which case we may interpret paranagignṓskein as ‘read out loud as a model’. [83] Either way, the implication is clear: the actors of tragedy were bound to an Athenian “State Script.” {175|176}

There is further testimony about such an Athenian text: tragoedias primus in lucem Aeschylus protulit, sublimis et gravis et grandilocus saepe usque ad vitium, sed rudis in plerisque et incompositus; propter quod correctas eius fabulas in certamen deferre posterioribus poetis Athenienses permisere; suntque eo modo multi coronati ‘the first to bring out tragedies was Aeschylus—sublime, severe, and often grandiloquent to a fault, but unpolished in many ways and disorganized; on account of which the Athenians allowed later poets to introduce into dramatic competitions the corrected versions of his dramas, and in this way many of these later poets won the garland of victory’ (Quintilian Institutio oratoria 10.1.66). We note with special interest the expression correctas, which seems to me analogous to the concept of diórthōsis, which in turn may be related to the concept of paranagignṓskein.

In this context, as we contemplate further the usage of paranagignṓskein in the sense of ‘read out loud as a model’, we may perhaps find a deeper level of meaning in the sobriquet reportedly applied by Plato to Aristotle, anagnṓstēs ‘the one who reads out loud’ (Vita Marciana, Aristotle Fragments p. 428.2 ed. Rose). [84] It may even be pertinent that the Vita Latina of Aristotle refers to his own edition of Homer as a dictamen (Aristotle Fragments p. 443.5–6 ed. Rose). [85] Given the theatrical context of paranagignṓskein in the passage about Lycurgus’ reform of performance traditions in Athenian tragedy, we may compare anagnṓstēs with the French stage-word souffleur. [86] Such an interpretation of anagnṓstēs {176|177} may help explain this word’s occurrence alongside Homēristḗs in an Oxyrhynchus papyrus dealing with Homeric performance. [87] In other words, the parallelism of Homēristḗs and anagnṓstēs in this papyrus implies that the recitation of Homer, like the acting of drama, depended on a “script.” Moreover, if indeed the actors of drama in Athens were regulated on the basis of a “script” imposed by the State, the same may be said about the Homēristaí.

In continuing the argument for a relationship between the Homēristaí and an Athenian “State Script” of Homer, I posit the following sequence of events:

• (A) A new state-controlled performance tradition and “script,” associated with the Homēristaí, is founded by Demetrius in Athens sometime between 317 and 307 BCE.
• (B) Then, with the fall of Demetrius in 307 BCE, the Athenian State loses or at least relaxes control of Homeric performance traditions, with the result that more variations can proliferate in Athens and elsewhere. [88] Such variations are reflected in the so-called “eccentric” Homer papyri. This period of instability in performance traditions lasts until around 150 BCE During this period from 307 BCE to 150 BCE, we can expect the generic designation of Homeric performers to default to the older term rhapsōidoí ‘rhapsodes’. [89]
• (C) After this burst of variation peters out, around 150 BCE, the performance traditions of the Homēristaí reassert themselves, matching closely the more canonical textual traditions as reconstituted by Aristarchus. [90] {177|178} In terms of this hypothetical scenario, the relatively late attestations of the word Homēristaí in the papyri can be correlated with the relatively most rigid period in the evolution of Homeric transmission.

In arguing for the emergence of the term Homēristaí already in the late fourth century, the era of Demetrius of Phaleron, I find crucial evidence in the parallel formations of other terms used in parallel contexts. One such form that is parallel to Homēristaí features the verb-suffix ízein from which the derivative noun-suffix istḗs / istaí is derived. [91] The word in question is Thamuríddontes (Θαμυριδδόντων), the Boeotian dialectal equivalent of Thamurízontes, attested in an inscription from Boeotia that is dated to the first half of the fourth century BCE (Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum 32.503). The inscription records a ritual event, mentioning twenty-two participants, and among them is a hiararkhíōn ‘hierarch’ and two Thamuríddontes, all of whom Paul Roesch connects with a hero-cult of the prototypical poet Thamyris in the Valley of the Muses. [92] Pausanias reports having seen a statue of Thamyris in the Valley of the Muses, where this prototypical poet is represented as already blinded, holding on to his broken lyre (9.30.2): the best-known version of the story of Thamyris and his punishment for insulting the Muses is told in Iliad II (594–600). [93]

There is another early parallel to the formation Homēristaí. The form in question is Puthagoristaí, a designation for followers of {178|179} Pythagoras, which is attested already in a comedy from the fourth century BCE (Aristophon F 9.1, 12.3 Kassel / Austin; the word is attested in a comedy of Aristophon’s bearing the actual title Puthagoristḗs). These Puthagoristaí are to be distinguished from the ostensibly more “legitimate” line of Pythagoreans, called the Puthagóreioi: unlike the Puthagóreioi, the Puthagoristaí are professionalized and therefore ostensibly more lowly, as we are explicitly told by the Iamblichean Life of Pythagoras (18.80). The lowly characterization of the Puthagoristaí is also indicated by the context of the reference to them in Theocritus 14.5 (in Dorian dialect, Puthagoriktaí). [94] We may compare the morphology of the more elevated name Puthagóreioi with that of the name Kreōphúleioi, designating a lineage of rhapsodes from Samos who had been rivals of the Homērídai, the lineage of rhapsodes from Chios. [95] The archaic ethos of the suffix eioi in the forms Puthagóreioi and Kreōphúleioi is to be contrasted with the innovative ethos of the suffix istaí in Puthagoristaí—and Homēristaí. It is worth stressing again that Athenaeus seems to link the reforms of Homeric performance at Athens in the fourth century BCE with the term Homēristaí.

I propose that the term Homēristaí replaced the earlier Homērídai, [96] and we may see in this replacement of terms a pattern of displacement in authority, in that we know of traditions that report of claims to authority and even legitimacy made by the earlier Homērídai. [97] These traditions even report of instances where the Homērídai disclaimed as illegitimate a given performer {179|180} of Homer, as in the case of the sixth-century figure Kynaithos. [98] It seems that the claim of the Homērídai had been that they were the only authorized performers of Homer. [99]

Given the exclusiveness of the Homērídai as distinct from the Homēristaí, we may again compare the distinction made between the ostensibly more “legitimate” line of Pythagoreans, called the Puthagóreioi, and the less-connected and therefore ostensibly more lowly Puthagoristaí. I propose also that an increased inclusiveness in membership, as implied by the displacement of Homērídai by Homēristaí, may be symptomatic of a decreasing flexibility in the inherited repertoire, to be correlated with an increasing professionalism needed to ensure the survival of performance traditions. There is a similar correlation in the history of Athenian State Theater, where Demetrius’ reform of performance traditions goes hand in hand with a trend toward intensified professionalization. [100]

Let us return to the comment, made by Eustathius (1.9) in the Prolegomena to his commentary on the Iliad, that performers whom he describes as ‘those in a later period’ had ‘acted Homeric poetry in a more dramatic fashion’ (εἰ δὲ καὶ τὴν Ὁμηρικὴν ποίησιν οἱ ὕστερον ὑπεκρίνοντο δραματικώτερον). I have already suggested that Eustathius—or, better, perhaps his source, which may have been a fuller version of Athenaeus than the one we have—is referring to the Homēristaí . This reference of Eustathius to ‘later’ conventions in Homeric performance implies also a contrast with what he describes in the same context (p. 10) as earlier conventions of ‘the ancients’, the majority of whom had referred to the totality of Homeric poetry as rhapsōidía {180|181} ‘rhapsody’ and to those who sing it, as rhapsōidoí ‘rhapsodes’ (οἱ δὲ πλείους τῶν παλαιῶν τήν τε ὅλην Ὁμηρικὴν ποίησιν ῥαψῳδίαν λέγουσι καὶ ῥαψῳδοὺς τοὺς αὐτὴν ᾄδοντας ‘but the majority of the ancients refer to the totality of Homeric poetry as rhapsōidía and to those singing it as rhapsōidoí’). [101] This earlier practice is then contrasted explicitly (Eustathius, top of p. 10) with the later practice of designating as rhapsōidía each of the twenty-four units of the Iliad and Odyssey, with each rhapsōidía corresponding to a letter of the alphabet. I now propose to link this reportedly ‘later’ practice with the era of Demetrius of Phaleron and with the traditions of the Homēristaí.

In the era of Demetrius, it appears that the equivalent of rhapsōidía is still a matter of performance—though the emphasis may have shifted from the process of putting together the units of performance to the status of each unit’s being divided from the other. In this matter I agree with the opinion of Stephanie West, who infers that “the use of the term rhapsōidía for what we call each ‘book’ of Homer indicates that the system was based on rhapsodic practice.” [102] It does not necessarily follow, however, that the custom of naming after a letter of the alphabet each one of the twenty-four units of both Homeric poem, each designated as rhapsōidía, goes back to the era of the Peisistratidai. [103] The farther back we go in time, the less textual the {181|182} idea of rhapsōidía becomes: and we may certainly expect patterns of performance-segmentation—as reflected in the very word rhapsōidía—to vary over time. [104] Accordingly, let us pursue the argument that the era of Demetrius of Phaleron, who according to Athenaeus (14.620b-c) introduced Homēristaí into the theaters, is a more likely setting for the canonical division of the Iliad and the Odyssey each into twenty-four units of performance.

It is claimed in an ancient source (“Plutarch” Life of Homer 2.4 p. 25.23–25 ed. Wilamowitz) that the division of the Homeric Iliad and Odyssey each into twenty-four scrolls originated with the school of Aristarchus. This claim is rejected by those who reconstruct the division all the way back to the era of the Peisistratidai, [105] while it is tentatively accepted by those who resist such a reconstruction. [106] I propose a middle way, arguing that the school of Aristarchus did not originate the division of the Homeric Iliad and Odyssey into twenty-four scrolls each but merely re-established this form of division. [107] Before the era of the Alexandrian critics, in terms of this proposal, the division into twenty-four units was a convention primarily of performance, supervised by the Athenian State. {182|183}

In the era of Aristarchus as distinct from the era of Demetrius, the twenty-four units of the Iliad and Odyssey could have become reconceptualized, shifting their identity from quasi-textual rhapsōidíai, numbered according to the twenty-four letters of the Athenian State Alphabet, to veritable “books” or scrolls of the Iliad and Odyssey. In general, however, Aristarchus’ organization of the Homeric text was perhaps closer to Demetrius’ earlier organization than to what we find attested in the so-called “eccentric” Homer papyri. Conventions of book-production in the early Ptolemaic era, as reflected by the “eccentric” Homer papyri, seem to ignore the canonical division of the Homeric poems into the relatively small units marked off by the twenty-four letters of the alphabet. Following the calculations of Jean Irigoin and others, John Van Sickle argues that the pre-Aristarchean Ptolemaic norm for the size of a papyrus scroll or “book” of Homer could have been the length of, say, one of the four scrolls or “books” of the Argonautica by Apollonius of Rhodes (Scroll 1, 1362 verses; Scroll 2, 1285; Scroll 3, 1407; Scroll 4 1781)—or for that matter the length of an Athenian tragedy or comedy—in any case, within the range of 1000 to 2000 lines. [108] By contrast, the post-Aristarchean norm for the size of a papyrus scroll or “book” of Homer averages around 500 to 650 lines—and these lengths match the book-divisions that have come down to us through the medieval manuscript tradition. [109] Moreover, as Van Sickle shows, the norm of any book in the literary world of the post-Aristarchean era actually became reconceptualized to approximate the size of the Homeric book. [110] The two prime examples are Virgil’s Aeneid, the “books” or scrolls of which average 850 verses, and Ovid’s Metamorphoses, where the average is 800. [111]

To repeat, the so-called “eccentric” Homeric papyri of the pre-Aristarchean period tend to fall within the range of 1000 / 2000 lines, without regard for divisions into twenty-four units: “these early Ptolemaic papyri of Homer ... show no explicit signs of the division into ‘books’ designated by letters of the alphabet.” [112] {183|184} This preference for 1000 / 2000 line-groupings, Van Sickle suggests, “must represent the custom and convenience of an earlier period, stemming not as yet from Alexandria but from more distant centers, including Athens itself.” [113] It is possible, however, that already in Athens there were stricter customs coming to the fore toward the end of the fourth century, at which point my hypothesis calls for the development of something that approximates an Athenian “State Script” of Homer, formalized by Demetrius of Phaleron. The post-Aristarchean era, with its Homeric texts divided into twenty-four scrolls, represents in my opinion not an innovation but a reversion to something like a “State Script”—if not to the actual norms of Homeric performance in late fourth-century Athens.

In support of the notion that the Homer text as formalized by Aristarchus was much closer to such an Athenian “State Script,” as I have called it, than to the intermediate texts represented by the “eccentric” Homer papyri, there is an analogy in the textual history of the Rule of Saint Benedict. [114] The Rule was written down in the sixth century, and Benedict’s manuscript was preserved at Monte Cassino by the Benedictine Order until 896, when it was destroyed in a fire. An “improved” version of the Rule, known as the traditio moderna, was evolving ever since the inception of the text in the sixth century till the end of the eighth century. At that point, Charlemagne himself visited Monte Cassino and acquired a manuscript copied from the original manuscript of the Rule. This copy of the original Rule, which was much closer to the text as it originally existed in the sixth century, then became “the basis for the diffusion of the text throughout the reformed monasteries of the Carolingian kingdom.” [115] Ironically, however, “the concern for the establishment of an accurate text led copyists to insert into the margins readings from the traditio moderna, thus recorrupting the text away from Benedict’s original.” [116]

To restate the analogy, we could say that the evolution of the Rule in the traditio moderna matches the evolution of the Homeric tradition in the era of the “eccentric” Homer papyri, and that the return to the earliest layer of the Rule at the initiative of {184|185} Charlemagne matches the return to an earlier layer of the Koine tradition, at the initiative of Aristarchus. The “recorruption” of the Benedictine Rule matches the eventual “recorruption” of the Aristarchean version of Homer in the post-Aristarchean manuscript traditions. [117] A major difference that offsets the analogy, however, is that the earlier layer of the Koine text, as restored by Aristarchus, does not match the archetypal quality of the earliest layer of the Benedictine Rule. Moreover, for reasons that we will examine in the next chapter, the history of the Athenian text as restored by Aristarchus covers its tracks, as it were.

For now, however, the argument runs as follows: that the performance traditions of fifth-century tragedy and even those of Homer were concurrently reaching a relatively rigid stage in the era of the Athenian reforms starting in the third quarter of the fourth century. It will be important to keep this era in mind as we consider the succeeding era of Alexandrian scholarship, with all its intense editorial activity—which is the central topic of the next chapter. The present argument is that the medieval text traditions of Homer stem, at least in part, not from the Alexandrian era but rather from this earlier Athenian era. [118] In terms of the {185|186} scheme of periodization as outlined in the previous chapter, the Homeric textual tradition that we know today by the vague designation of the Koine or “Vulgate” is typical of period 3, while period 4 begins with the emergence of a “State Script” of Homeric performance traditions as reformed under the régime of Demetrius of Phaleron.

There may indeed have been a textual prototype, in the loosest sense of the word, for the kind of “State Script” that reflects the performance reforms instituted under this régime. Such a prototype could have been influenced by, or even derived from, a copy of Homer that Aristotle and his school had used for their own research, which would surely have included his diórthōsis as marginalia. [119] Be that as it may, we could expect the “State Script” that inaugurates period 4 to be based on the Koine performance traditions of the earlier period 3. As a text, however, such a script would have been considered superior, from the standpoint of its editors, to any earlier commercial transcript of Koine performance traditions. Whether or not such a script stemmed directly from Aristotle’s own diórthōsis of the Koine, we will see in the next chapter that it reflected an ultimate diórthōsis that had been promoted and perhaps even executed by Demetrius of Phaleron, student of Theophrastus, who in turn was student and direct successor of Aristotle. [120] {187|188}