Homer’s Text and Language

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1. The Quest for a Definitive Text of Homer: Evidence from the Homeric Scholia and Beyond*

1§1 As of this writing, Homeric scholarship has not yet succeeded in achieving a definitive text of either the Iliad or the Odyssey. Ideally, such a text would encompass the full historical reality of the Homeric textual tradition as it evolved through time, from the pre-Classical era well into the medieval. The problem is that Homeric scholarship has not yet reached a consensus on the criteria for establishing a Homeric text that is “definitive.” The ongoing disagreements reflect a wide variety of answers to the many serious questions that remain about Homer and Homeric poetry. Crucial to most of these questions is the evidence provided by the Homeric scholia.

1§2 The relevance of the scholia (plural of scholion), that is, of annotations that accompany the text of Homer in a wide variety of manuscripts, was first made manifest to the world of modern Homeric scholarship in 1788, when Jean Baptiste Gaspard d’Ansse de Villoison published the tenth-century Venetus A codex manuscript of the Iliad of Homer (codex Marcianus 454). [1] In his Prolegomena, Villoison assesses the impact of the Venetus A scholia on Homeric scholarship: {3|4}

1§4 These critics are the scholars responsible for the textual transmission of Homer in the Library of Alexandria, founded in the early third century BCE, {4|5} the era of Zenodotus of Ephesus, who is credited with the first Alexandrian “edition” of Homer. There were subsequent “editions” by Aristophanes of Byzantium, who became director of the Library around the beginning of the second century BCE, and by a later director, Aristarchus of Samothrace, the culmination of whose work is dated around the middle of the second century BCE. It is the “edition” of Homer by Aristarchus, as frequently cited by the scholia of the Venetus A manuscript, that constitutes the primary authority behind these Homeric scholia.

1§9 Focusing on the A scholia of the Iliad, Erbse traces their data back to the VMK. [14] The subscriptio that we find at the end of each of the 24 books (except for a lacuna at the end of Book 17 and an omission at the end of Book 24) of the Venetus A Iliad gives the basic information about the VMK: παράκειται τὰ Ἀριστονίκου σημεῖα καὶ τὰ Διδύμου Περὶ τῆς Ἀρισταρχείου διορθώσεως, τινὰ δὲ καὶ ἐκ τῆς Ἰλιακῆς προσῳδίας Ἡρωδιανοῦ καὶ ἐκ τοῦ Νικάνορος Περὶ στιγμῆς ‘placed in the margins are the signs of Aristonicus and the work of Didymus entitled “On the Aristarchean edition [diorthōsis],” and some material also from the “Iliadic prosody” of Herodian and from the work of {6|7} Nicanor entitled “On punctuation”’. [15] Thus the VMK combines the Homeric scholarship of Didymus (on variant textual readings), [16] Aristonicus (on critical signs), [17] Nicanor (on punctuation), [18] and Herodian (on accent). [19] The VMK authors are to be dated as follows: Didymus flourished in the second half of the first century BCE and beginning of the first CE; Aristonicus was a contemporary of Didymus; Nicanor lived in the era of Hadrian; Herodian flourished about 200 years after Didymus, in the era of Marcus Aurelius. The data provided by the VMK are based ultimately on the Homer edition and commentary of Aristarchus, as we learn from the testimony of the first of the “four men” I list here, Didymus, as mediated by the scholia.

1§11 Here we return to the divergence of opinions, going all the way back to Villoison and Wolf, about the value and even the nature of the work accomplished by the ‘editors’ of Homer, especially Aristarchus, in transmitting the Homeric textual tradition. Depending on how we interpret the information attributed by the Homeric scholia to Aristarchus and other such scholars, there is room for a wide variety of different ideas about what exactly the definitive text of Homer may have been, and even whether there had existed such a thing as a “definitive” text.

1§12 In order to grasp the essence of this divergence, we may focus on the wording of Villoison’s original formulation, as highlighted in the passage quoted at the beginning. According to Villoison, the Homeric scholia provide essential background on the following three aspects of the Homeric {7|8} tradition: (1) the historical context, (2) the text itself, and (3) the oral traditions underlying but also “undermining” that text.

1§14 Turning to the second aspect, the Homeric text, we have already noted that the “Critics” to whom Villoison’s formulation primarily refers are the three Homer scholars of the Library or Museum at Alexandria who were credited with producing “editions” of Homer: Zenodotus of Ephesus, Aristophanes of Byzantium, and, especially, Aristarchus of Samothrace. The publication of Venetus A and its scholia, with well over 1,000 references to Aristarchus, produced a quantum leap of information about the premier Alexandrian editor of Homer. There was a sense of euphoria about prospects of recovering the Homer edition of Aristarchus, along with the commentary produced by his school. Villoison could hope to establish “the original and genuine reading,” on the basis of examining “the variant readings of various codices and editions as well as the emendations of the critics.” The A scholia of Homer seemed to bring Aristarchus back to life.

1§15 As we can see from his quoted formulation, however, Villoison’s optimism about restoring, through the scholia, the “original and genuine” text of Homer was tempered by his intuition about an oral tradition that transmitted but also “corrupted” this “text.” Here we come to the third of the three aspects of Homeric tradition highlighted by Villoison. His point about an oral Homeric transmission by way of rhapsōidoi (ῥαψῳδοί) ‘rhapsodes’ was seized on by Wolf, whose own elaborations on this third aspect of the Homeric tradition led ultimately to a destabilization of scholarly perspectives on the second and even the first aspects, concerning the Homeric text and its contexts as elucidated by the scholia. To this day, the destabilization continues, and most experts fail to agree on a unified explanation for the instabilities inherent in the ancient Homeric textual tradition. {8|9}

1§16 Wolf’s reformulation of Villoison’s assessment centers on the testimony of Josephus Against Apion 1.12–13, as invoked by Villoison in the passage quoted above. Josephus (first century CE), in his polemics with the Homer expert Apion (also first century), seems to be arguing from the premise that no original text of Homer survived. Wolf infers that the Homer scholars of Alexandria must have accepted this premise. Otherwise, Wolf reasons, Josephus could not get away with arguing, against an authoritative Homer expert like Apion (he was a student of the Aristarchean Didymus), that Homer did not write. Here is Wolf’s interpretation of the Josephus passage:

At footnote 76, Wolf cross-refers to an earlier part of his treatise (Ch.18), where he argues not only that Homer did not use writing in composing his poetry but also that the Homer scholars of Alexandria must have known this:

In his footnote 39, Wolf specifies that this additional testimony comes from the scholia to Dionysius Thrax published by Villoison himself in his Anecdota Graeca 2.182 [Grammatici Graeci 3.179]: the Greek text of the scholiast is translated thus: “For the works of Homer were lost, as they say. For in those days they were not transmitted by writing, but only by training so that they might be preserved by memory, etc.” [

1§17 The implications of Wolf’s inference are far-reaching: if he is right, then the Homer text inherited by the scholars of Alexandria has been “corrupted” {9|10} by oral transmission, and whatever “corrections” they make are likely to be conjectures. By extension, the evidence of the scholia, which reflect the work of the Alexandrian scholars, is devalued.

1§18 The Greek text of Josephus Against Apion 1.12–13, as we have seen it invoked by both Villoison and Wolf, is as follows:

As we see from the wording of Josephus, he claims that the poems of Homer were preserved by memory and assembled later from the songs. The idea of an ‘assembling’ of a text ‘from the songs’ suggests that the premise of Josephus’ argumentation is the existence of stories that told of a recension of the Homeric poems commissioned by the Athenian tyrant Peisistratos. [
26] We may treat these stories as a historical reality in their own right, even if we do not choose to believe the contents of the stories. In other words, the historical reality is not necessarily what the stories say about a Peisistratean Recension, as Wolf argues, but merely the stories themselves—or, better, the narrative tradition. It can be argued, pace Wolf, that the stories of the Peisistratean Recension result from a political myth, fostered by the dynasty of Peisistratos himself, that pictured the tyrant as a culture hero who rescued and restored the poems of Homer, which had formerly become neglected, fragmented, and even lost. [27] It can also be argued that such stories are characteristic of a type of charter myth, attested not only in other archaic Greek traditions but also in those of a wide variety of different cultures, that serves {10|11} to explain the genesis of a centralized oral tradition in the metaphorical terms of written traditions, so that the gradual evolution of an oral tradition into a centralized institution is imagined by the myth as an instantaneous re-creation of a lost book—or of an obsolete archetype of an ultimate Book. [28]

1§31 Even the inconsistencies of modern usage in applying the word “vulgate” to various different phases of a reconstructed Homeric text illustrate the ongoing uncertainties in establishing a definitive text of Homer. For Arthur Ludwich, the “vulgate” Homeric text is pre-Alexandrian, derived from an Athenian prototype, which is the ultimate source for the medieval manuscript tradition. [61] Similarly for Marchinus van der Valk, a pre-Aristarchean “vulgate” had “preserved the authentic text,” and this text “was also transmitted by the vulgate of the medieval manuscripts.” [62] For both Ludwich and van der Valk, this “vulgate” is distinct from the Homer “editions” of the Alexandrians, especially that of Aristarchus. For van der Valk, however, the readings of the “vulgate” are generally more authentic than the variant readings attributed by the Homer scholia to scholars like Aristarchus, which he generally takes to be “conjectures”; for Ludwich, by contrast, such {16|17} variants are not “conjectures” but authentic readings preserved by the scholia from the Alexandrian editions of Aristarchus and others. [63] For Ludwich, the Alexandrian “edition” of Aristarchus represents a quantum leap beyond the pre-Alexandrian “vulgate”; for van der Valk, by contrast, the pre- and post-Alexandrian “vulgate” text is relatively superior to the Alexandrian “edition” of Aristarchus, which may not even be deserving of the term “edition.” [64]

1§33 It may well be an overstatement to say that Wolf has been reinstated as the driving force behind Homeric studies. Still, the “Wolfian vulgate” version of the Homeric text is once again ascendant in some quarters, culminating in the Homer editions of van Thiel. A key to this ascendancy is the work of Erbse, culminating in his edition of the Iliad scholia. As we have seen, the centerpiece of Erbse’s edition, as also of Villoison’s, is the testimony of the A scholia. Much as Villoison had supplemented the testimony of the A scholia with those of the B scholia, so also Erbse with that of the c branch comprised of the b and T scholia. {17|18}

1§42 There is perhaps a further danger: an undervaluing of the Venetus A scholia leads to an undervaluing of the Homer editions of Aristarchus, Aristophanes, and Zenodotus, which in turn leads to an overvaluing of the “Wolfian vulgate.” In order to find a balance, we may consider the testimony of the Homer scholia themselves on the concept of the “vulgate.”

1§44 But the biblical Latin analogy can mislead: in Jerome’s Epistle to Sunnia and Fretela, the word koinē, which he glosses in Latin as the vulgata or ‘vulgate’, is applied to two ‘common’ Greek versions of the Hebrew Bible, one of which is the editio or ‘edition’ of one Lucian while the other is the {20|21} editio of Origen of Alexandria (late second to mid-third century CE)—that is, the Septuagint as edited in the Hexapla of Origen. [87] As in the usage of the Homer scholia, there is an element of negative comparison here as well: conceding that the Greek term koinē is applicable to both of the Greek-language biblical ‘editions’ in question, Jerome goes on to contrast the ‘old corrupt edition’ of Lucian with the ‘uncorrupted and immaculate’ version that serves as the source for Jerome’s Latin vulgate translation:

κοινή autem ista, hoc est communis, editio ipsa est quae et septuaginta, sed hoc interest inter utramque quod κοινή pro locis et temporibus et pro voluntate scriptorum vetus corrupta editio est, ea autem quae habetur in ἑξαπλοῖς et quam nos vertimus ipsa est quae in eruditorum libris incorrupta et immaculata septuaginta interpretum translatio reservatur.

This koinē, that is, this common edition, is the same thing as the edition of the Seventy, but there is this difference between the two: that the koinē—in line with different times and different places and different whims of people who wrote it down—is an old and corrupt edition, whereas by contrast the one that is found in the Hexapla and which we have translated is the same thing as the actual translation [into Greek from Hebrew] of the Seventy interpreters, which has been conserved without corruption and without blemish in the books of the erudite.

Jerome Epistles 106.2

In other words, the ‘edition’ of the Septuagint that Jerome uses as his own textual source is koinē to the extent that it is a ‘common’—in the sense of ‘general’ or even ‘universal’—text, but it transcends the designation of koinē to the extent that it is a ‘corrected’ text, freed from ‘corruptions’ associated with a text that is ‘common’—in the sense of ‘vulgar’. The word koinē has the aura of an authoritative but relatively ‘uncorrected’ text.

1§49 To the extent that the koinē Homer is ‘common’ in the uneroded and privileged sense of a ‘general, standardized, universalized’ text stemming from {22|23} an earlier past, we can expect Aristarchus to value it; to the extent that this same koinē is ‘common’ in the eroded and non-privileged sense of ‘vulgar’, we can expect him to prefer the more ‘corrected’ editions from the more recent past, including those of Aristophanes and Zenodotus. This pattern of preference could only be expected to intensify in the post-Aristarchean era, by which time the privileged sense of koinē would have eroded further.

1§52 Ironically, an assumption that Wolf had made about oral traditions led him to accept one of the two working assumptions of Alexandrian critics like Aristarchus. These critics assumed both that the Homeric text was ‘corrupted’ and that they could ‘correct’ these corruptions by combining the internal evidence of Homeric diction with the external evidence of variant manuscript traditions. Though Wolf did not accept the assumption of the Alexandrian critics that they had the means to ‘correct’ the ‘corruptions’, he took as a given their assumption that there were indeed ‘corruptions’ {23|24} in the first place. For a scholar like Aristarchus, such ‘corruptions’ were a matter of textual traditions that had gone wrong. For Wolf, they became something else, a matter of oral traditions that had made the textual traditions go wrong.

1§53 The study of living oral traditions, as we shall see in the chapters that follow, refutes this assumption: the process of composition-in-performance, typical of oral traditions, does not ‘corrupt’ an ‘original’ composition. Even the concept of ‘original’ misleads in the context of this argumentation, in that any performance in an oral tradition can re-create a given composition into a new ‘original’—though of course the degree of re-creation may vary considerably, depending not only on the nature of the given tradition but also on a wide variety of historically-determined contingencies.

1§54 In the chapters that follow, I have more to say about oral traditional poetry and about the process of recomposition-in-performance. I will argue that different authentic variants can be generated by the same oral tradition at different historical points of its evolution. I will also argue that the principle of variation affects not only the content but even the length of a given recomposition-in-performance.


[ back ] * The original version of this essay is N 1997d.

[ back ] 1. Villoison 1788.

[ back ] 2. Villoison 1788:xxxiv; the translation and the underlinings highlightings are mine. I leave untranslated his use of the Latin noun contextus, which conveys the metaphorical sense of ‘fabric, structure’; compare the Latin verb contexere ‘weave, restart weaving where one had left off weaving’. Here and everywhere, I use single rather than double quotes for translating the meanings of words and phrases. On the rhapsōidoi or ‘rhapsodes’, professional performers of Homeric and other archaic poetry, see below. The obelus is a horizontal mark, placed next to a verse in the left-hand margin of a text, to indicate the editor’s doubts about the authenticity of the verse. I will have more to say about this sign as the discussion proceeds.

[ back ] 3. Wolf 1795.

[ back ] 4. Grafton, Most, and Zetzel 1985; hereafter abbreviated as GMZ. Besides translating Wolf’s original Latin text into English, GMZ have written an introduction and notes focusing on Wolf’s influence on Homeric scholarship. GMZ 7–8 give their own translation of the passage from Villoison p. xxxiv quoted above. They do not stress Wolf’s fundamental debt to this specific formulation by Villoison. On that subject, see Pierron 1869 I xxiii and II 509n1.

[ back ] 5. Erbse 1969–1988. More below on the other scholia. On the problems of dating the origins of compilations of scholia in general, see Wilson 1967:244–256; also the reactions in the addenda of Erbse 1969–1988 II 547, with specific reference to the Homeric scholia.

[ back ] 6. Erbse 1969–1988 I xlvii. See pp. xlv–xlvi on the wording in Eustathius I 76 8: ἐν τοῖς Ἀπίωνος καὶ Ἡροδώρου εἰς τὸν Ὅμηρον ὑπομνήμασι ‘in the Homer commentaries of Apion and Herodorus [probably corrupted from “Heliodorus”]’, whence the abbreviation “Ap.H.” On Heliodorus, see Dyck 1993a:2n6. Editions of Eustathius: van der Valk 1971–1988, Stallbaum 1825.

[ back ] 7. Erbse I p. li traces the b scholia (the family of the B manuscript, as also of C, E3, and others) and the T scholia back to a larger family c, which may also have been a source for Eustathius.

[ back ] 8. For more on the D scholia (formerly known, wrongly, as the Didymus scholia), see below; also Haslam 1997:61 and n17. These scholia are mixed in with the A and B scholia, as printed in the edition by Dindorf, volumes I–VI (1875–1888); volumes V–VI, edited by Maass (1887–1888), contain the T scholia. The D scholia have been edited by van Thiel 2000b and published electronically in the form of a “Proecdosis,” on which see van Thiel 2000a.

[ back ] 9. See Schrader 1880–1882 and 1890. See also Sodano 1970.

[ back ] 10. Erbse 1969–1988 I xi–xii. The c scholia may also contain fragments of the VMK (p. lii). Although these scholia often reflect views that contradict those advocated by the school of Aristarchus at the Library in Alexandria, they are not necessarily to be traced back to the rival school of Crates at the Library in Pergamon: see Erbse I xii. See also Haslam 1994:44, arguing that the c scholia derive from commentaries and that the term “exegetical” is a misnomer.

[ back ] 11. Erbse 1969–1988 I xiii. See also Erbse 1960:170–171.

[ back ] 12. Haslam 1997:94.

[ back ] 13. An early edition: Dindorf 1855. See also Ludwich 1888–1890.

[ back ] 14. Erbse 1969–1988 I xii, xlvii.

[ back ] 15. Erbse 1969–1988 I xv; see also p. xlvii, where he argues that the source of the VMK data in A is an archetypal codex that had merged the four distinct commentaries. (Erbse adduces scholia A at Iliad X 398, ἐν μέντοι τῇ τετραλογίᾳ Νεμεσίωνος οὕτως εὗρον περὶ τῶν στίχων τούτων ‘this was my finding about these lines, in the tetralogy of Nemesion’, and he conjectures that Nemesion lived in the 5th or 6th century CE.) There is reason to dispute this argument, on the basis of comparative evidence discussed by Haslam 1978:71.

[ back ] 16. Schmidt 1854; Ludwich 1884:175–631.

[ back ] 17. Friedländer 1853; Carnuth 1869.

[ back ] 18. Friedländer 1850. Cf. Blank 1983.

[ back ] 19. Lentz 1867–1870. Cf. Dyck 1993b.

[ back ] 20. Pfeiffer 1968:217. On the second ekdosis ‘edition’ of Aristarchus, supposedly produced by his students, see Apthorp 1980:132. On his hupomnēma or ‘commentary’, see Lührs 1992:10, who describes it as a combination of an apparatus criticus and a commentarius criticus. In Ch.4 (p. 85) I discuss a more developed scenario for reconstructing the Homer editions of Aristarchus, with special reference to the work of Montanari 1998. I will also discuss the existence of two ekdoseis ‘editions’ attributed to Aristarchus in the post-Aristarchean era.

[ back ] 21. GMZ 8. The italics are mine. The contributions of the A scholia to an understanding of the historical context are more than matched by the bT scholia: for an illuminating survey, see Schmidt 1976. On the mythological world of the D scholia, see Lünstedt 1961.

[ back ] 22. GMZ 111. The italics are mine.

[ back ] 23. GMZ 94–95.

[ back ] 24. GMZ 95n39.

[ back ] 25. GMZ 94.

[ back ] 26. On the stories about a “recension” commissioned by Peisistratos or at least by a member of the dynasty of the Peisistratidai, see HQ 65–106. See also HQ 103–105 for arguments in support of dating the story of the Peisistratean Recension at least as far back as the fourth century BCE, the era of Dieuchidas of Megara (FGH 485 F 6, by way of Diogenes Laertius 1.57).

[ back ] 27. HQ 70–75.

[ back ] 28. HQ 70–75. Cf. Tzetzes Anecdota Graeca 1.6 ed. Cramer.

[ back ] 29. There is valuable information in the scholia at Pindar Nemean 2.1e (ed. Drachmann) about the rhapsode Kynaithos of Chios. I note especially the usage of apangellein in the sense of ‘perform publicly’, with reference to the performance of rhapsodes in the circle of Kynaithos (οἱ περὶ Κύναιθον … τὴν Ὁμήρου ποίησιν … ἐμνημόνευον καὶ ἀπήγγελλον ‘Kynaithos and his school … made a practice of … the remembering of the poiēsis of Homer, and they performed it publicly’), to be compared with the usage of the same word apangellein in Herodotus 7.142.1 in a similarly performative context. I also draw attention to the association of mnēmoneuein ‘practice the remembering of …’ with apangellein ‘perform publicly’. On the relationship of master and disciple in the traditions of the rhapsodes (cf. οἱ περὶ Κύναιθον), see Ritoók 1970:23–24.

[ back ] 30. PP 150–151.

[ back ] 31. As a supplement to scholia A at Iliad XIII 197 see Proclus περὶ Ὁμήρου 59–62 ed. Severyns 1938: τοῖς δὲ χρόνοις αὐτὸν οἱ μὲν περὶ τὸν Ἀρίσταρχόν φασι γενέσθαι κατὰ τὴν τῆς Ἰωνίας ἀποικίαν, ἥτις ὑστερεῖ τῆς Ἡρακλειδῶν καθόδου ἔτεσιν ἑξήκοντα, τὸ δὲ περὶ τοὺς Ἡρακλείδας λείπεται τῶν Τρωϊκῶν ἔτεσιν ὀγδοήκοντα. οἱ δὲ περὶ Κράτητα ἀνάγουσιν αὐτὸν εἰς τοὺς Τρωϊκοὺς χρόνους ‘As for the dating, Aristarchus and his school situate Homer at the time of the Ionian Migration, supposedly sixty years after the Return of the Herakleidai, which in turn was supposedly eighty years after the era of the Trojan War; by contrast, Crates and his school date him back to the era of the Trojan War’. On the rivalry of Aristarchus and Crates as editors of Homer, see below. Further discussion in PP 151; Pfeiffer 1968:228; Janko 1992:32n53, 71; Keaney and Lamberton 1996:67n2.

[ back ] 32. See Porter 1992:83.

[ back ] 33. E.g. “Plato” Hipparchus 228b–c, Plato Ion 531a, 532a.

[ back ] 34. E.g. Plato Republic 10.600d.

[ back ] 35. Wolf 1795 Ch.25, in arguing that the textual instability of Homeric poetry was due to the rhapsodes—and that the Alexandrian critics made the same inference—cites an account about the rhapsode Kynaithos of Chios in the scholia at Pindar Nemean 2.1c, e (cf. Eustathius I 10 30ff, etc.). Evidently Wolf thought that this account about Kynaithos derives from Aristarchus. I have argued in support of this derivation in N 2000f:99n6, and I will repeat the essentials of my argument later on at p. 29n15 below. According to this account about the rhapsode Kynaithos, as we will see, he “interpolated” his own verses into the poetry of Homer. The idea that Kynaithos was a rhapsode implies an oral tradition, but the idea that he was “interpolating” implies a written tradition, as far as Aristarchus was concerned. For Aristarchus, the task was to “correct” the textual instability of Homer.

[ back ] 36. See Jensen 1980:155, who argues explicitly that Josephus accepted an earlier model, which she outlines on p. 150. For Apion, see Neitzel 1977.

[ back ] 37. GMZ 17.

[ back ] 38. PP 107–152, Ch.5: “Multiform epic and Aristarchus’ quest for the real Homer.” On the relative disinterest of Aristarchus in the performative traditions of Homeric rhapsodes, see PP 130 and 151. For what seems to be a vestigial reference in the Homeric scholia to such performative traditions, see scholia T at Iliad XVI 131 (where it is prescribed that verses narrating the arming of Patroklos are to be performed at an allegro pace) and the comments of Richardson 1980:287.

[ back ] 39. PP 132–149. I will have more to say on this evolutionary model in Ch.2 below.

[ back ] 40. More on this point in Ch.5.

[ back ] 41. GMZ 18.

[ back ] 42. GMZ 8.

[ back ] 43. Pfeiffer 1968:214, quoted in GMZ 29.

[ back ] 44. Pierron 1869 I p. cxl.

[ back ] 45. PP 132–149, defending the validity of editorial testimony attributed to Zenodotus and Aristophanes as well as to Aristarchus. For the editorial methods of Zenodotus, see the indispensable work of Nickau 1977. For an overall work on Aristophanes of Byzantium, see Slater 1986.

[ back ] 46. That Zenodotus, in the process of editing Homer, did indeed produce his own text is argued by Rengakos 1993:12–14. He also argues that Aristarchus had direct access to the Homer edition of Zenodotus, even if Didymus and Aristonicus may not have (p. 14). So too Apollonius of Rhodes and Callimachus, both contemporaries of Zenodotus, had access to such a text (ibid.). See also Montanari 2002.

[ back ] 47. Pierron 1869.

[ back ] 48. Lehrs 1882.

[ back ] 49. See especially Pierron 1869 II.564n2, referring to the criticism of Wolf by Lehrs (1833) in his second edition of his work on Aristarchus.

[ back ] 50. More on this point in Ch.4.

[ back ] 51. Janko 1990:332 and 334 on the Monro and Allen edition of 1920. See also Janko p. 332n19 on the editorial strategy of the editio maior of Allen 1931. Even the intellectual integrity of Allen as editor has been called into question: see Wilson 1990. For a more balanced assessment of Allen’s methods, see Haslam 1997:89–90.

[ back ] 52. van Thiel 1991 and 1996.

[ back ] 53. See especially van Thiel 1991 iii; cf. Haslam 1997:95.

[ back ] 54. Haslam 1997:95.

[ back ] 55. Haslam 1997:100.

[ back ] 56. Haslam 1997:63.

[ back ] 57. See especially van Thiel 1991:ix–xiii.

[ back ] 58. Haslam 1997:100n133.

[ back ] 59. Haslam 1997:95.

[ back ] 60. Haslam 1997:96.

[ back ] 61. Ludwich 1898; cf. Allen 1924:327.

[ back ] 62. See van der Valk 1963/1964 I 609.

[ back ] 63. Cf. PP 185.

[ back ] 64. PP 185.

[ back ] 65. Apthorp 1980.xiii, enhancing the arguments of Bolling 1925.

[ back ] 66. Janko 1990:332–334.

[ back ] 67. Cf. Erbse 1959:275–303.

[ back ] 68. Pfeiffer 1968:214–215.

[ back ] 69. Pfeiffer 1968:215.

[ back ] 70. For a “Proecdosis” of the D scholia, see now van Thiel 2000a and 2000b.

[ back ] 71. See especially Rengakos 1993.

[ back ] 72. See especially Apthorp 1980.

[ back ] 73. On the D scholia, see again van Thiel 2000a.

[ back ] 74. This classification follows the valuable analysis of Henrichs 1971/1974. See especially Henrichs 1971:100–101.

[ back ] 75. Dindorf, volumes I–VI (1875–1888); volumes V–VI, edited by Maass (1887–1888). Cf. Henrichs 1971:101n11.

[ back ] 76. Henrichs 1971:102.

[ back ] 77. See especially Haslam 1997:94 on the medieval manuscript Genavensis 44, containing exegetical scholia at Iliad XXI that are “miraculously matched” by a second-century papyrus commentary on the same book.

[ back ] 78. Henrichs 1971:105.

[ back ] 79. Haslam 1997:96.

[ back ] 80. Henrichs 1971:106–107. Cf. Haslam 1997:60–61.

[ back ] 81. Henrichs 1971:109. There are two branches of sources for the Iliadic D scholia: a-1, edited by de Marco from select manuscripts (1932, 1941), and a-2, edited by Lascaris (1517). There is an edition by Asulanus (1528) of the Odyssean D scholia. See now also van Thiel 2000a and 2000b.

[ back ] 82. Montanari 1979:14; also p. 24n35 on the contributions of van der Valk in defining the Mythographus Homericus. Cf. Haslam 1997:61n17. Also Haslam 1990 and 1996. For an example of a historia preserved by way of the D scholia, see Haslam 1991:37.

[ back ] 83. Haslam 1997:95.

[ back ] 84. Haslam 1997:96.

[ back ] 85. More on these categories in Ch.4. See also Haslam 1997:71. For a defense of the authenticity of variant readings found in the politikai ‘city editions’, see PP 147–148, following Citti 1966; cf. Haslam 1997:69–71.

[ back ] 86. Allen 1924:317.

[ back ] 87. Jerome Epistles 106.2, as discussed by Allen 1924.317, 319. See in general Neuschäfer 1987. Cf. also Lührs 1992:8 on Origen’s editorial policy of avoiding personal emendations or conjectures in editing the text of the Septuagint.

[ back ] 88. PP 187–200, following (in part) Jensen 1980:109. This possibility is entertained but ultimately rejected by Haslam 1997:71.

[ back ] 89. Cf. Lycurgus Against Leokrates 102 and Demosthenes 18.170; also Isaeus 7.16, on the care taken in legitimizing texts recorded by the state of Athens: only after full verification ‘are they to be written down into the koinon grammateion’ (εἰς τὸ κοινὸν γραμματεῖον ἐγγράφειν). This usage confirms that the expression ἐν κοινῷ goes with both γραψαμένους and φυλάττειν in “Plutarch” Lives of the Ten Orators 841f, as discussed in PP 175n77: in this context, what is recorded and preserved by the Athenian state in standardized form is the corpus of tragedies attributed to Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. See also Bollack 1994.

[ back ] 90. PP 189. More in Ch.2 about the Panathenaia.

[ back ] 91. Haslam 1997:71 and n35.

[ back ] 92. Haslam 1997:71 notes that the relatively fuller and more accurate reporting of singular koinē vs. plural koinai in the papyri indicates “the severely reduced nature of the scholia.” I should point out, however, that singular koinē is also attested in the medieval Homer scholia, as for example at Iliad V 461b and XII 404a1. Such usages of the singular, relatively more common in the papyri and less common in the medieval scholia, can I think be traced back to an era that predates Aristarchus himself. By the time of Aristarchus, for whom there was evidently no need to posit a single surviving authoritative text of Homer, there would be no need to specify a singular koinē except perhaps in terms of a reconstruction.

[ back ] 93. I am paraphrasing here (and disagreeing with) the suggestion of Haslam 1997:71.

[ back ] 94. See further at Ch.4, p. 85.

[ back ] 95. Haslam 1997:71, following S. West 1967:26.

[ back ] 96. For more on diorthōsis as a process of ‘corrective editing’, see Ch.4, p. 85.

[ back ] 97. Janko 1992:26.

[ back ] 98. PP 148–149; cf. Muellner 1976:58–62. Also Bird 1994.

[ back ] 99. Haslam 1997:95 argues that the text of A merits no greater respect than the text-family of BCE3 or the text of T or the underlying text of D.