Delphi Complete Works of Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics Book 79)

by Dionysius of Halicarnassus

  III

  Other Matters arising in the de Compositione

  A. Greek Music: in Relation to the Greek Language

  For the modern student there is perhaps no more valuable chapter of the de Compositione than that (c. 11) which treats of the musical element in Greek speech. It helps to bring home the fact that, among the ancient Greeks, “the science of public oratory was a musical science, differing from vocal and instrumental music in degree, not in kind” (μουσικὴ γάρ τις ἦν καὶ ἡ τῶν πολιτικῶν λόγων ἐπιστήμη τῷ ποσῷ διαλλάττουσα τῆς ἐν ᾠδῇ καὶ ὀργάνοις, οὐχὶ τῷ ποιῷ, 124 20). The extraordinary sensitiveness of Greek audiences to the music of sounds is described by Dionysius, who also indicates the musical intervals observed in singing and in speaking, and touches on the relation borne by the words to the music in a song. His statements, further, give countenance to the view that “the chief elements of utterance — pitch, time, and stress — were independent in ancient Greek speech, just as they are in music. And the fact that they were independent goes a long way to prove our main contention, viz. that ancient Greek speech had a peculiar quasi-musical character, and consequently that the difficulty which modern scholars feel in understanding the ancient statements on such matters as accent and quantity is simply the difficulty of conceiving a form of utterance of which no examples can now be observed.” Even Aristotle, Greek though he was, seems to have felt imperfectly those harmonies of balanced cadence which come from the poet, or artistic prose-writer, to whom words are as notes to the musician. And if Aristotle, a Greek though not an Athenian, shows himself not fully alive to the music of the most musical of languages, it is hardly matter for wonder that writers of our own rough island prose should be far from feeling that they are musicians playing on an instrument of many strings, and should be ready, as Dionysius might have said in his most serious vein, εἰς γέλωτα λαμβάνειν τὰ σπουδαιότατα δι’ ἀπειρίαν (252 16). It is true that, on the other side, we have R. L. Stevenson, who writes: “Each phrase of each sentence, like an air or recitative in music, should be so artfully compounded out of longs and shorts, out of accented and unaccented syllables, as to gratify the sensual ear. And of this the ear is the sole judge.” Dionysius and Stevenson are, admittedly, slight names to set against that of Aristotle. But this is no reason why they should not be allowed to supplement his statements when he is too deeply concerned with matter and substance to say much about manner and the niceties and enchantments of form. And Dionysius is — it must in justice be conceded — no mere word-taster but a man genuinely alive to the great issues that dignify and ennoble style. He can, for example, thus describe the effect, subsequent and immediate, of Demosthenes’ speeches: “When I take up one of his speeches, I am entranced and am carried hither and thither, stirred now by one emotion, now by another. I feel distrust, anxiety, fear, disdain, hatred, pity, good-will, anger, jealousy. I am agitated by every passion in turn that can sway the human heart, and am like those who are being initiated into wild mystic rites.... When we who are centuries removed from that time, and are in no way affected by the matters at issue, are thus swept off our feet and mastered and borne wherever the discourse leads us, what must have been the feelings excited by the speaker in the minds of the Athenians and the Greeks generally, when living interests of their own were at stake, and when the great orator, whose reputation stood so high, spoke from the heart and revealed the promptings of his inmost soul?”

  In addition to D. B. Monro’s book on Greek music, reference may be made to such works as Rossbach and Westphal’s Theorie der musischen Künste der Hellenen, H. S. Macran’s edition of Aristoxenus’ Harmonics (from the Introduction to which a quotation of some length will be found in the note on 194 7), and the edition of Plutarch’s de Musica by H. Weil and Th. Reinach. The articles, by W. H. Frere and H. S. Macran, on Greek Music in the new edition of Grove’s Dictionary of Music and Musicians should also be consulted, as well as the essay, by H. R. Fairclough, on “The Connexion between Music and Poetry in Early Greek Literature” in Studies in Honour of Basil Lanneau Gildersleeve. The close connexion between music and verbal harmony is brought out in Longinus de Sublim. cc. 39-41. In Grenfell and Hunt’s Hibeh Papyri, Part i. (1906), , there is a short “Discourse on Music” which the editors are inclined to attribute to Hippias of Elis, the contemporary of Socrates.

  B. Accent in Ancient Greek

  If there were any doubt that the Greek accent was an affair of pitch rather than of stress, the eleventh chapter of this treatise would go far to remove it. It is clear that Dionysius describes the difference between the acute and the grave accent as a variation of pitch, and that he considers this variation to be approximately the same as the musical interval of a fifth, or (as he himself explains) three tones and a semitone. Similarly Aristoxenus (Harm. i. 18) writes λέγεται γὰρ δὴ καὶ λογῶδές τι μέλος, τὸ συγκείμενον ἐκ τῶν προσῳδιῶν τῶν ἐν τοῖς ὀνόμασιν· φυσικὸν γὰρ τὸ ἐπιτείνειν καὶ ἀνιέναι ἐν τῷ διαλέγεσθαι (‘for there is a kind of melody in speech which depends upon the accent of words, as the voice in speaking rises and sinks by a natural law,’ Macran). The expression προσῳδία itself (cp. τάσεις φωνῆς αἱ καλούμεναι προσῳδίαι, 196 16) implies a melodic character, and the adjectives (ὀξύς and βαρύς) which denote ‘acute’ and ‘grave’ are used regularly in Greek music for what we call ‘high’ and ‘low’ pitch. It would be hard to believe that βαρύς could ever have indicated an absence of stress.

  That such a musical pitch — such a rising or falling of tone — can be quite independent of quantity seems to be proved by the analogy of Vedic Sanskrit, inasmuch as, when reciting verses in that language, the native priests are said to succeed in keeping quantity and musical accent altogether distinct. “We cannot now say exactly how Homer’s verse sounded in the ears of the Greeks themselves; and yet we can tell even this more nearly than Matthew Arnold imagined. Sanskrit verse, like Greek, had both quantity and musical accent; and the recitation of the Vedic poems, as handed down by immemorial tradition, and as it may be heard to-day, keeps both these elements clear. It is a sort of intoned recitative, most impressive and agreeable to the sensitive ear.”

  A useful handbook on the general subject of Greek Accentuation (including its musical character) is Vendryes’ Traité d’accentuation grecque, which is prefaced by a bibliographical list. The volume is noticed, in the Classical Review xix. 363-367, by J. P. Postgate, who supplements it in some important directions. There is also a discussion of the nature and theory of the Greek accent in Hadley’s Essays p-127. As Monro (Modes ) remarks, it is our habit of using Latin translations of the terms of Greek grammar that has tended to obscure the fact that those terms belong in almost every case to the ordinary vocabulary of music. The point of the illustration drawn from the Orestes, in the C.V. c. 11, is that the musical setting in question neglected entirely the natural tune, or accent, of the words. It is not to be assumed that Dionysius approved (except within narrow limits) of this practice or of the corresponding neglect of syllabic quantity (128 19). He probably regarded such excesses as innovations due to inferior schools of music and rhythm. In the hymns found at Delphi (and also in an inscription discovered by W. M. Ramsay) there is a remarkable correspondence between the musical notes and the accentuation of the words, as was pointed out by Monro (Modes p, 91, 116, 141; and Classical Review ix. 467-470). It is the hymns to Apollo (belonging probably to the early part of the third century B.C.), in which the acute accents usually coincide with a rise of pitch, that Dionysius would doubtless have regarded as embodying the classical practice. In early times, it must be remembered, words and music were written by the same man; cp. G. S. Farnell Greek Lyric Poetry p, 42. The chief surviving fragments of Greek music (including
the recent discoveries at Delphi) will be found in C. Jan’s Musici Scriptores Graeci (with Supplement), as published by Teubner.

  C. Pronunciation of Ancient Greek

  The de Compositione is not a treatise on Greek Pronunciation, or even on Greek Phonetics. The sections which touch upon these subjects are strictly subsidiary to the main theme; they are literary rather than philological in aim. There was, in fact, no independent study of phonetics in Greek antiquity; the subject was simply a handmaid in the service of music and rhetoric. Hence the reference early in c. 14 to the authority of Aristoxenus “the musician,” and the constant endeavour to rank the letters according to standards of beautiful sound. Still, though Dionysius’ object in describing the way in which the different letters are produced is not scientific but aesthetic and euphonic, much praise is due to the rigorous thoroughness which led him to undertake such an investigation at all. And it has had important incidental results.

  One modern authority claims that, notwithstanding difficulties in the interpretation of the de Compositione due either to vague statements in the text or to defective knowledge on our own part, it is possible to reconstruct, with essential accuracy, the “Dionysian Pronunciation of Greek,” or (in other words) the pronunciation current among cultivated Greeks during the fifty years preceding the birth of Christ; while another authority has given a transliteration of the Lord’s Prayer, according to the original text, in the Hellenistic pronunciation of the first century A.D. It is, further, maintained that, thanks to the general progress of philological research, we can in the main reproduce with certainty the sounds (including even the aspirates) actually heard at Athens in the fourth century B.C. — with such certainty, at all events, as will suffice for the practical purposes of the modern teacher.

  Two circumstances render it unsafe to lean unduly on Dionysius’ evidence in determining the pronunciation of the earlier Greek period. Although he studied with enthusiasm the literature produced by Greece in her prime, and would certainly desire to read it to his pupils in the same tones as might have been used by its original authors, it is hardly likely that the pronunciation of the language had changed less in three or four hundred years than that (say) of English has changed since the days of Shakespeare. The other circumstance is the uncertainty which attends some of his statements, quite apart from any question of the period which they may be supposed to cover. This uncertainty is due to the fact that there was no science of phonetics in his day, and that consequently his explanations are sometimes obscure, either in themselves or at all events to their modern interpreters. But in many other cases he is, fortunately, explicit and easily understood. One example only shall be given, but that an important one: the pronunciation of ζ. In 144 9-12, it is clearly indicated that ζ is a double letter, and that it is composed of σ and δ (in that order): διπλᾶ δὲ τρία τό τε ζ¯ καὶ τὸ ξ¯ καὶ τὸ ψ¯. διπλᾶ δὲ λέγουσιν αὐτὰ ἤτοι διὰ τὸ σύνθετα εἶναι τὸ μὲν ζ¯ διὰ τοῦ σ¯ καὶ δ¯, τὸ δὲ ξ¯ διὰ τοῦ κ¯ καὶ σ¯, τὸ δὲ ψ¯ διὰ τοῦ π¯ καὶ σ¯, κτλ. The manuscript testimony is here in favour of σ¯ καὶ δ¯ (rather than the reverse order), and it may be noticed that the similar reading, ὐπασ¯δ¯εύξαισα, is well supported in Sappho’s Hymn to Aphrodite (238 9). The statement is not in any way contradicted by the further statements in 146 5 and 148 6; and taken together with other evidence (e.g. such forms as συρίσδειν = συρίζειν, κωμάσδειν = κωμάζειν, Ἀθήναζε = Ἀθήνασδε), it seems to establish this as at least one pronunciation of ζ. The actual pronunciation may well have varied at different times and in different places. Some authorities think that in fifth-century Greece the sound was like that of English zd in the word ‘glazed,’ while in the fourth century it roughly resembled dz in the word ‘adze’ (Arnold and Conway, op. cit. p, 7).

  The book which deals most directly with the de Compositione in relation to Greek pronunciation is A. J. Ellis’ English, Dionysian, and Hellenic Pronunciation of Greek, considered in reference to School and College Use. In applying great phonetic skill to the interpretation of Dionysius’ statements, the author of this pamphlet has done much service; but he abandons too lightly any attempt to recover a still earlier pronunciation, and shows an uncritical spirit in so readily believing () that Erasmus could be hoaxed in the matter of Greek pronunciation. A more trustworthy work is F. Blass’ Pronunciation of Ancient Greek (translated by W. J. Purton), in which the scientific aids towards a reconstruction of the old pronunciation are marshalled with much force. Arnold and Conway’s Restored Pronunciation of Greek and Latin, and Giles’ Manual of Comparative Philology (p-118: especially for ζ), contain a succinct statement of probable results. There is also a good article, by W. G. Clark, on Greek Pronunciation and Accentuation in the Journal of Philology i. p-108; with which should be compared the papers by Wratislaw and Geldart in vol. ii. of the same journal. The entire conflict on the subject of Greek pronunciation, as waged by the early combatants in England and Holland, is reflected in Havercamp’s two volumes entitled Sylloge Scriptorum qui de linguae Graecae vera et recta pronuntiatione commentarios reliquerunt, videlicet Adolphi Mekerchi, Theodori Bezae, Jacobi Ceratini et Henrici Stephani (Leyden, 1736), and his Sylloge Altera Scriptorum qui ... reliquerunt, videlicet Desiderii Erasmi, Stephani Vintoniensis Episcopi, Cantabrigiensis Academiae Cancellarii, Joannis Checi, Thomae Smith, Gregorii Martini, et Erasmi Schmidt (Leyden, 1740). Erasmus’ dialogue de recta Latini Graecique sermonis pronunciatione (Basle, 1528) was, in its way, a true work of science in that it laid stress on the fact that variety of symbols implied variety of sounds, and that diphthongal writing implied a diphthongal pronunciation. Attention has lately been directed to the fact that Erasmus claims no originality for his views on this subject, and that he had been anticipated, in varying degrees, by Jerome Aleander in France, by Aldus Manutius in Italy, and (earlier still) by the Spanish humanist, Antonio of Lebrixa (Bywater The Erasmian Pronunciation of Greek and its Precursors Oxford, 1908). It may be noted, in passing, that when enumerating the errors of his Byzantine contemporaries, Antonio mentions that they pronounced Ζ “as a single letter, whereas it was really composite, and stood for SD” (Bywater, ). Among the immediate successors of Erasmus in this field the most interesting, perhaps, is Sir Thomas Smith (1513-1577), who, like Cheke, was one of the “etists” and so incurred the wrath of Stephen Gardiner and drew out that edict which threatened various penalties (including corporal punishment for boys) against the practice of unlawful innovations in the province of Greek pronunciation. It was Smith who, in his treatise de recta et emendata linguae Graecae pronuntiatione (Havercamp, ii. 542), detected a lacuna in the text of C.V. 140 16 as current in his time, and secured the right sense by the insertion of δύο δὲ βραχέα τό τε ε¯ καὶ τὸ ο¯ after τὸ ω¯ (in l. 17). Echoes, more or less distinct, of the long dispute as to the pronunciation of the ancient classical languages may be heard in such various quarters as: (1) [Beaumont and] Fletcher’s Elder Brother ii. 1, “Though I can speak no Greek, I love the sound on’t; it goes so thundering as it conjur’d devils”; (2) King James I. (in an address to the University of Edinburgh, delivered at Stirling), “I follow his [George Buchanan’s] pronunciation, both of his Latin and Greek, and am sorry that my people of England do not the like; for certainly their pronunciation utterly fails the grace of these two learned languages”; and (3) Gibbon’s reference to “our most corrupt and barbarous mode of uttering Latin.” In modern times a constant effort is being made to get nearer to the true pronunciation of the two classical languages; and (to speak of Greek alone) some interesting side-lights have been shed on the subject by the discovery of Anglo-Saxon or Oriental transliterations (cp. Hadley Essays p-140, and Bendall in Journal of Philology xxix. 199-201). The application of well-ascertained results to the teaching of Greek pronunciation could be injurious only if it were allowed
to impede the principal object of Greek study — contact with the great minds of the past. But an attempt to recapture some part of the music of the Greek language is hardly likely to have this disastrous effect.

  D. Greek Grammar

  Grammar, like phonetics, was by the ancients often regarded as a part of “music.” It would not, therefore, seem unnatural to his readers that, in a treatise on euphony, Dionysius should continually be referring to the parts of speech (τὰ μόρια τοῦ λόγου). He also uses freely such technical terms of grammar as: πτῶσις, ἔγκλισις, ἀπαρέμφατος, πληθυντικῶς, ὕπτιος, ἀρρενικός, θηλυκός, οὐδέτερος, ἄρθρον, ὄνομα, πρόθεσις, σύνδεσμος, etc. Though himself concerned more immediately with the euphonic relations of words, he is fully alive to the phenomena of their syntactical relations. His remarks on grammatical points show, as might have been expected, many points of contact with the brief treatise of another Dionysius — Dionysius Thrax, who was born a full century earlier than himself. Dionysius Thrax was a pupil of Aristarchus, and produced the earliest formal Greek Grammar. Some interesting hints as to the successive steps in grammatical analysis which had made such a Grammar possible may be found in the second chapter of the de Compositione, where special mention is made of Theodectes, Aristotle, and “the leaders of the Stoic School.” In c. 5, a useful protest is raised against the tyranny of grammar, which so often seeks to control by iron “rules” the infinite variety and living flexibility of language.