Ancient Poetic Etymology: The Pelopids: Fathers and Sons (Palingenesia. Schriftenreihe für Klassische Altertumswissenschaft)

Acknowledgments

This book has grown out of the research on the etymology of Homer and his Scholiasts, which Dr. H. Peraki-Kyriakidou and I have conducted. This collabora­ tion has yielded a vast amount of material from which derive some of the refer­ ences I make in this book. My teaching, especially my graduate course on Ety­ mology from Homer down to his scholiasts, has also brought me into contact with a wealth of corroborating diachronic material, and given me a strong stimulus for a closer examination of ancient poetic etymology. I have endeavored to adumbrate the specificities and the elusiveness of such a complex enterprise as the poetic etymologizing in a number of articles whose corollaries I briefly summarize in this book. My involvement with the Homeric epics and later poetry has cemented my belief that the repeated exploitation of certain patterns is not coincidental, but reflects practices and principles of a deep-rooted and embedded tradition; in spite of their individual differentiations, ancient poets draw from a common font. This insight has led me to the formulation of some theoretical points, no matter how fluid and question begging the term "theoretical" might be for such an early era. A great part of this book was prepared in London in the Winter Semester of 2003, during my sabbatical. So my gratitude goes first to Professor Christopher Carey, who kindly received me as a honorary research fellow and gave me the opportunity to benefit from the facilities of the DCL and ICS. My thanks also go to my colleagues Dr. Helen Peraki-Kyriakidou and Dr. Paraskevi Kotzia, who have read different parts of this work and have offered me encouragement and constructive criticism. I would also like to express my thanks to Professors Daniel Jakob, John Kazazis and Antonios Rengakos for reading my entire book and mak­ ing valuable comments. Of course, I assume responsibility for whatever mistakes may remain.

Introduction

The comprehensive title of the present study, "Ancient Poetic Etymology," pre­ supposes a close inspection and appreciation of all those ancient etymological concepts and patterns that promote not only a poem'.s linguistic lucidity and the­ matic structure but also affect its literary quality. Etymology emerges here as a tool of poetic furtherance and integration on the dictional and compositional lev­ els, and in sum as an instrumental literary parameter. The Homeric epics, as also archaic lyric poetry to a lesser extent, will provide ample evidential, even if selec­ tive, material for the present study. The insights into the workings of an ancient etymological tradition gained in the first half of the book will eventually be ap­ plied to the diachronic study of the names of Pelops and his kin in ancient litera­ ture and art. This myth is studied from the angle of poetic etymology. The inter­ pretive models proposed here for the reading of poetic names in a primary oral song-culture, rely on the documented ancient exploitation of sounds, words, themes and imagery. Focusing on the connotations of the poetic texts garnered here, their manipulation by ancient men of literature and their annotation by grammarians and scholiasts, the present study puts forward some conjectures as regards the ancient reception and comprehension of poetry. Pelops' myth is of exemplary value in this diachronic examination, which crosses the boundaries of orality into literacy and intertextuality. The particular design and objectives of this study presuppose the supremacy of proper names in the latter half of the book, and justify the attention paid to modem theories on name and namegiving. In detail: In the preamble of the present study (chapter I) there is a brief sur­ vey of a constellation of influential modem theories regarding the proper name, its nature and status: the proper name has been placed under the microscope not only of linguistics but also of philosophy and social science, thus becoming a logico­ semantic and anthropological problem. Some of the theoretical approaches de­ scribed here have dominated scholarship; their effect is still being felt as regards the workings of the proper name, poetic or otherwise. The contrasting tenets of denotation and connotation are paradigmatic: they have affected, if not arrested, the appreciation of poetic name, its motivation and constitution. The gap between modem and ancient etymology is often presented as un­ bridgeable; we are occasionally told that a rift separates modem scientific etymol­ ogy from ancient poetic or grammatical and scholiastic etymology. In principle this may be true, but the orthodoxy of the evaluation is susceptible to gradation and must be judged ad hoc: in many cases the proposals of these two branches of etymology are identical or overlap to a great extent; their boundaries are some­ what blurred. Scientific etymology naturally starts from different premises, pur­ sues different goals, and benefits from the corollaries of a wide spectrum of disci­ plines, such as historical and comparative linguistics and semantics. With a com­ bined centrifugal and centripetal motion, it sets out to trace and map the genea­ logical chart of words, searching for the remnants of the parent or Proto-Indo-

Introduction

6

European language in its various intercontinental "sister" languages and in wide­ spread comparative materiaL Ancient etymology, on the other hand, whether poetic, grammatical or scholi­

astic, is mostly empirical and intuitive. It is characterized by a pervasive flexibil­ ity and freedom reflected in the occasional multiplicity and variability of the ety­ mological proposals it submits for onc and the same word. The scientific elucida­ tion of words is beyond the remit of ancient poetic etymology. Any search for philologically correct etymologies

would be anachronistic, since

the Indo­

European mother tongue was unknown to the ancient people. Ancient etymology thus aims primarily at integrating words, myths, persons and things in a meaning­ ful manner, and provides an internal justification for their presence and function in the poetic canvas. On account of its unscientific methods and objectives, ancient etymology is sometimes discounted as rather bizarre and fanciful. It is often disregarded and labelled "paretymology" with quite unjustified condescension, although its contri­ bution is appreciated in instances where the linguistic norms are patently and in­ explicably bypassed. As a result of such reductionist views and misconceptions of the underlying poetic goals and methods, the explicit poetic etymologies, not to mention the implicit, are often dismissed as stylistic devices, grammatical or rhe­ torical figures, wordplays or examples of alliteration. Grammar books testify to this. However, the significance of alliteration and wordplays in the process of an­ cient signification and etymologizing is great: both imprint derivational associa­ tions more often than not. The etymological contributions of paronomasia, analy­ sis of compound words into their components, use of parallel and cquivalent or even antithetical phrases, clustering of cognates, and, finally, internal rearticula­ tion and rcsignification of names are of recognizable value. These techniques, in addition to their serviceability as mncmonic aids in an orally composed and per­ formed poetry, also allow poctic etymology to emerge as a narrative factor that pulls together the strings of the story and promotes its deployment. Etymology targets the lexical and thematic unification of the poetic work. Chapter 2 focuscs on such matters and the functionality of ancient Greek po­ etic etymologizing in the wider poetic matrix. For all practical purposes and better management of the vast material, I have adopted the taxonomic system and ty­ pologies that figure in older and accredited books on etymology, although I rec­ ognize that the boundaries of categories are not waterproof. Overlapping of classes and encroachment of limits is a frequent phenomenon. Any aspiration to construct clear-cut and unambiguous schematic patterns is therefore misleading. The boundaries of categories constantly intenningle and shift, defying our at­ tempts at classification. Earlier scholars have studied ancient etymology mostly for its philological and explicatory expedience in its immediate and narrow contexts. Their approach has been mostly descriptive and evaluative of external similarities. They are cred­ ited with pioneering work on a neglected and rather unpopular field and with dis­ closing the philological and exegetical aspect of Homer. They have a point, argu­ ing that etymolob'Y has a practical purpose: some outdated, antique and fossilized

Introduction

7

forms were preserved in the dialectal amalgam and the formulaic language of the Homeric poems during their long transmission. Such antique forms were no longer intelligible to the younger generations of Greeks, as the contemporary ver­ nacular evolved and modernized. The conservatism of oral poetry, underpinned by its metrical structure, protects the literary idiom from the intrusions of the natu­ rally evolving language. Out of consideration for their audience, therefore, Homer and the rhapsodes who followed attempted to improve their ability to com­ municate, inserting short etymological comments of an explicatory nature. Diels credits the creator of the epos with a high degree of philological feeling; Pfeiffer reaffirms this notion, Rank devotes a great section of his book to "Homerus als philoloog," while Ong argues "that oral art forms, such as epic, retain some words in archaic forms and senses, words that are recurrent in the special vocabulary of epic poetry; yet "memory has some durability, but not unlimited:" when these words lose their relevance with the present, lived experience, objects or in­ stitutions, then their meaning is altered or simply vanishes; this illustrates Ong's principle of homeostasis, which accomplishes an equilibrium "by sloughing off ) memories which no longer have present relevance." As our insight into the Homeric poetic art grows, such philological expla­ nations, despite their great merit, seem rather unilateral, since they overshadow Homer the poet. Which Homer should we be looking at after all? Homer the phi­ lologist, the educator, or the poet? And if the first half of this book's title is to be trusted, what is the meaning and the function of "poetic" as regards Homer? A brief survey of some influential theories, which have stamped contemporary Ho­ meric scholarship, will illustrate the problem and provide some hermeneutic guidelines. In the aftermath of M. Parry's ingenious and revolutionary formulaic theory and the reactions it provoked for stressing the rigidity of stereotyped epic lan­ guage, its repetitiveness, and the mechanistic function of its structural blocks, there was a surge of studies, which highlighted the literary character of the Ho­ meric epics and addressed important issues, such as performance, reception, com­ 2 position and narratology. Since the eighties, scholars have argued that Homeric Diels 1 9 10: 1 0; Pfeiffer 1 968: 3-4: Homer not only creates but also interprets "his own pow­ erful language;" his poetry included a sort of 'philological element, ' and "this is of signal im­ portance for the origin and development of scholarship . . . the epic poets "desire to make themselves clear, but no less to pleasure in playing on words, to delight in similarity of sound;" see ib. 140. See also Rank 195 1 : 74-1 00; Ong 2002/2006: 46-47. For the idea of "recomposition-in-performance," which derives from Lord (Singer of Tales [Cambridge, Mass. 1 960] 3-29, 99-1 23), see Nagy 1 989: 1 0 with n. 28; id. 1996a: passim and 1 997: 1 75-89. This notion implies the futility of looking for either an "original" or a "final" performance. Bakker 1 997: 1 1-36 (Intro. 5), focuses on the experience of performance: the Greek epic tradition betrays a complex, double vision of epic events as both now and not­ now, both near and far; the epic performance can be seen as the reexperience of an ever­ present original event, with "truth" emerging from the crucial difference in understanding be­ tween the performer of epos and the characters in the original event. Kahane l 997: 1 1 0-37 (In­ tro. 7-8), on the evidence of the Homeric meter, argues: "at the boundaries between coda and onset [of verses], there exist 'interstices of silence' . . . such an interstice . . . alters the balance

8

Introduction

poetry does not differ substantially from modem, fictional literature, even though it adheres to a genre of oral traditions. The "multiplicity" of the presentation of the story in the Iliad also suggests that "this narrative has more variety of presen­ ,,3 tation than many a modem novel. Defying the suggestions of the '50's, that a non-Aristotelian literary criticism and a new "oral poetics" be developed, Griffin and others have counterargued that the production of this "new poetics" does not contribute to our aesthetic understanding. Relying on Ruth Finnegan's view that "There is no clear-cut line between 'oral' and 'written' literature," Griffin pro­ poses that we "go on with aesthetic methods not essentially or radically new . . . approaching the epics in a manner not wholly different from the way in which the ,,4 Greeks themselves approached them. For the ancients "the name Homer evoked s the image of a single exceptionally authoritative bard." The oral and traditional nature of the Homeric epics, their indebtedness to anterior poetic forms, and their long passage through time, before their final crystallization, do not affect their "originality;" hence they are judged by the standards of modem literature. The richness, multiplicity, fictionality and literary value of the Homeric epics have attracted the attention not only of pure classicists but of scholars of related disciplines, who have fertilized Homeric scholarship with their specialized exper­ tise; concepts originating from political convictions (e.g. Marxism), feminist apbetween the narrative reality 'out there' and the time-present reality of the performance," pro­ ducing a "stitching together of fiction and reality." Martin 1 997: 1 3 8-66, studying the inter­ textual or rather metaperformative poetics ( 1 6 1 ) apropos the Homeric similes, notes that the scholiastic "miming a desire"(sch. T n. 1 6. 1 3 1 ) aptly describes "what we know happens in in­ teractive oral performances of epic, in which performers enact what audiences want" ( 1 4 1 ). So De Jong 1 987: xi, 227, who recognizes that her methods divide the Iliad into narrative situations and thus fracture the poem. But she says: (ib. x): "this study, too, will try to account for the Iliad as it is rather than to reconstruct how it came about." Griffin 1 980: xiii-xiv with nn. 1 , 2, where he cites Finnegan ( 1977: 2). She denies ( 1 977: 272 apud Shive 1 987: IS with n. 4 1 ) that there is "a clear-cut differentiation between oral and written literature," and argues that there is nothing "peculiar to 'oral poetry, ' which radically distinguishes it from written poetry in nature, composition, style, social context, or function." For the conflict of tradition and invention and M. Parry's theory see Shive 1 987: 3-20 and Willcock 1 997: 1 74-89. Minchin 200 1 : 72, argues: "the way is open to us again to think of Homer -as Aristotle did (Poet. 1459a-1460a)- as a creative poet who takes a traditional story and makes it his own." Discussing current trends, Peradotto 1 990: 3-3 1 and 1 997: 3 8 1 , notes: "there have been a number of studies which, without contesting the powerful influence of a traditional style, structure, and set of narratives, still portray a poet in control of that tradition, capable of originality and innovation, to counter the questionable image of a compliant repli­ cator and a frozen tradition." On this subject see also Scodel 2002: 1 -4 1 . Fowler 2004: 22829, also speaks of the innovations of Homer at the mythological level (cf. Phoenix in n. 9), adopts (228 with n. 3 1 ) and emphasizes the untraditional character of the Iliad and Odyssey (229 with n. 39): "they are astonishingly innovative in design and aim." For a divergent view on poetic originality see Ong 2002/2006: 4 1 -42, 59, 1 3 1 , 142-43. So Graziosi and Haubold 2005: 8-9, 33; capitalizing on the repetitiveness and resonace of the Homeric language, they remark: "the Homeric poems . . . derive much of their meaning from the interaction between the particular story they tell and its resonance within the overall de­ velopment of the cosmos . . . the traditional character of Homeric epic, far from being an im­ pediment to originality, makes the poems resonant with meaning."

Introduction

9

proaches, and modern literary theories are applied to Homer. His crystallized text and the growth of chirographic and print culture opened up new interpretive ven­ ues and gave rise to the intertextual approach. To summarize Ong (131), "intertex­ tuality refers to a literary and psychological commonplace: a text cannot be cre­ ated simply out of lived experience;" the writer is familiar with a "textual orgimi­ zation of experience;" the manuscript culture "deliberately created texts out of other texts', borrowing, adapting, sharing the common, originally oral, formulas and themes, even though it worked them up into fresh literary forms impossible without writing. " Working on similar lines to Kristeva, the inventress of the term Intertextuality,6 Barthes claims that the delivery of the epic poem to the Muse and "all such references to the rhetoric of filiation reinforce the illusion that the text has a unity which stems from the unified and original thought of its creator;" shift­ ing the point of gravity from the author to the reader, he finds the "text's unity not in its origin but its destination . . . the birth of the reader must be at the cost of the , death of the Author. , 7 Text and reader are thus liberated from the confines of the assumed authorial intentionality and monosemanticity. The shift of focus onto the modern reader and his response to literature calls for a new theoretical framework: the reception theory. Hans Robert JauB, one of its main exponents, approaches this subject in terms of reception-aesthetics. He uses the term "aesthetic distance" "to denote the difference between the contemporary view of a work of art (at the time of its first publication) and the present-day view;" "literary value is measured according to 'aesthetic distance,' the degree to which a work departs from the 'horizon of expectations' of its first readers. "g Foley pursues this further, ap­ plying the concepts of performance and reception to Homeric studies. Perceiving tradition as the vital process imaged in language, he argues that such a conception of tradition "would entrust the process of communication to the performer's and audience's negotiation of what remains unsaid . . . Such a notion of tradition redi­ rects attention toward the ongoing process that informs Homeric composition and reception." He disagrees with the urgency for a new, segregational poetics, and Julia Kristeva (Desire in Language: a Semiotic Approach to Literature and Art, New York, 1 980: 66, apud Allen 2000: 36). The career of intertextuality in modem theory is marked by considerable diversity (see Allen 2000). Kristeva argues that "any text is constructed as a mo­ saic of quotations; any text is the absorption and transformation of another . . . poetic language is read as at least double." On Intertextuality in Homeric scholarship see Peradotto 1 997: 39294. Fowler 2004: 229-30, associates the allusions of specific words with the assumption of fixity on the level of diction and the possible beginning of true intertexts. Barthes ("The Death of the Author," 1 977: 1 42-48, 1 59, 1 46, apud Allen 2000: 72-75): the text is "a tissue of quotations drawn from the innumerable centres of culture," Peradotto 1 997: 392-93 and 384, argues that the Homeric studies are "not uncomfortably at home in so­ called postmodem territory." On the reception theory see Cuddon 1 999: 387 (horizon of expectations) and 733 (reception theory and "aesthetic distance"): H. R. JauB uses the term "horizon of expectation" to denote the shared assumptions and the criteria by which readers judge literary texts in a trans­ subjective way. For a comprehensive and critical survey of the forms that this theory took in the hands of its major exponents (Gadamer, JauB, Iser) see Holub 1 995 [2004]: 445-82. For a brief critical note from the perspective of orality-literacy see Ong 2002/2006: 1 67-68.

10

Introduction

opts for an integrative approach by which we are called "to hear the resonance in Homer's 'words,' to contextualize the individual and immediate in the traditional ,,9 and recurrent . . . a new rediscovery awaits us: the linked technique of reception. With these major theoretical landmarks lingering in our mind (recomposition­ in-performance, reception, originality and fictionality of the Homeric epics), we may approach Homer as the ingenious poet he has always been and attempt to find 'out what he has done with etymology and what his diachronic audience or readers may have understood. His etymologies will be explored in an integrative and holistic manner, in strict relation to their immediate context or wider text; internal factors, such as thematic and structural relevance, will be taken into con­ sideration. A detailed and exhaustive exemplification of all the Homeric etymo­ logical techniques is well beyond the scope and the objectives of this study; a se­ lo lection of the most representative examples will illustrate the point. Homer will be naturally the starting point for our probings and comparisons as being the ulti­ mate authority against whom all subsequent etymological experimentations and practices are tested; later poetry and scholarship is engaged in discourse with him, giving a flavor of ancient reception and intertextuality. The predominant subject of the second part of this study (chapters 3 and 4) is the exploration of the etymology of Pelops and his relatives in ancient literature. Blood relation underpins the linguistic and semantic kinship of their names. This part capitalizes on the corollaries of the preceding chapters, with the ultimate pur­ pose of demonstrating the validity of an underlying consistent naming system, marked by verbal and semantic affiliations. Overpowering and overbearing fig­ ures in the much-sung Trojan epic, the offspring of this family are cultural heroes, who play a protagonistic role in the traditional stories that have shaped the ideals and values of antiquity; epic, lyric and tragic poetry focuses on their acts and fate, making their myth and names vehicles of religious and moral reflection. Ancient philosophico-linguistic theory has also exploited the potential of their names. It is not accidental or devoid of significance that in his theoretical treatise, the Craty­ Ius, Plato makes the names of the males of this family prime case studies, by which he illustrates the principles of ancient etymologizing and exemplifies the doctrine about the essential and natural relation between names and things. Plato's treatment of Tantalus, Pelops, Atreus, Agamemnon and Orestes testifies to the fact that these names are not chosen at random and simply for reasons of familiarity with a myth of wide circulation. We may plausibly argue that Plato consciously selected these names because they conform with and underpin the etymological practices and notions he is investigating; the mythical vita of these heroes is intri-

la

Foley 1 997a: 146- 1 73 . Foley, an oral theorist, restates the conflict between what is "seen on the page rather than heard in perfonnance," in a study about the semata in epic poetry ( 1997b: 63): "the art of traditional poetry is an immanent art, a process of composition and reception in which a simple concrete part stands for a complex, intangible reality. Pars pro toto, as it were." On perfonnance and reception see also Ford 1 997: 83- 1 09. Fine works have been written by Sulzberger, Woodhead, Stanford, Risch, Muhlestein, Nagy, Kraus, Peradotto, Calame, Salvadore, Higbie et al. on the Homeric etymology. For a collected bibliography see Tsitsibakou-Vasalos 2000: 1 nn. 3, 4, passim.

Introduction

11

cately and intimately interlocked with their names. Although not explicitly spelled out, this impressive gleaning of exemplary names from a single dynasty also in­ sinuates current preoccupations with ethographical and biological issues, which are transposed to the level of language. Fathers and sons are affiliated not only biologically, but linguistically and conceptually as well; they share behavioral specificities and attitudes, which are imprinted in the constitution of their names. The male members of this family bear names which are either synonymous or cognate, and mirror their striking, twofold, linguistic and ethical, inheritance that runs down the line: signifiers and signifieds manifest a perfect lexical and seman­ tic affinity. The essential nexus of name and thing is confirmed on the mythic plane by the deployment of the individual microstories of these figures. The majestic yet grim connotations of the "Tantalidae," "Pelopidae," "Atreidae," as dramatized in ancient literature, traverse the successive generations of this dynasty and yield ample scope for an inter- and intragenerational study of signifiers and signifieds. The intersecting axes of synchrony and diachrony are annuled within this lineage; the linguistic and characterological features of the forefathers are fused into and perpetuated by their progeny. The names of the males of this family signpost its unbroken course along a temporal continuum, in which past, present and future are biologically, linguistically and semantically informed and confirmed. The hierarchical preeminence of Pelops on the religious, social and familial plane justifies the priority he is given in the present study; as in Olympia, so also here, Pelops shines forth and imposes his dominant stature. But which "Pelops" shall we look for? The "Pelops" as viewed by modern scholarship and linguistics, or by the ancient Greek literary and scholarly tradition? Interestingly, the pre­ sumably hard-core distinctions between the two branches of etymology break down when it comes to Pelops (and his other kin as well): their proposals con­ verge to a great extent. In their vast majority, modern scholars seek the meaning and derivation of Pelops in the clues supplied by the ancient literary sources, and his religious and political connections. They thus respect the interests, methods and objectives of the ancient etymologizing, and bridge the gap that severs these two approaches. Pelops' functional and onomastic singularity assigns him a focal position. He is the mangled and sacrificed son, who receives and suffers the vices of his closest kin, but is miraculously restored and rehabilitated. His mediating position allows him to stand out as the archegete of the dynasty whose polarities he concentrates and transubstantiates in his vita, cult and name. Pelops embodies in his appellation the vices and blessings that permeate his mythical life: darkness as a human sacri­ ficial victim; lustre as a privileged erotic favorite and cult figure in a place with a siginificant name; renown as a secular potentate and worshipped hero. His poly­ semous and polyvalent proper name corresponds to his ambivalent mythic iden­ tity. Oscillating between the polarities of darkness, sheen, vision and kleos, which are heard and seen near and far, Pelops becomes the paradigmatic naturalized for­ eigner, who forces civilization upon the crude and cruel primal forces of Hellenic Pisa and abstracts in his chiaroscuro name the family vices and virtues.

12

Introduction

Paradoxically, Pe10ps is a dismembered barbarian from whose name and life springs the unity of Panhellenism. He has become the symbol of gathering and unison, of homonoia, of unity in multiplicity, a sema of centrality, indeed! The dismembered alien child, which emerged from the sacrificial cauldron, eventually assembles the Greeks in concord and common aspirations around his bothros and his blood offerings. Around his tomb the Greeks gather, seeking to reconfirm their common origin and revitalize their ethnic bonds and values. In Pelops' precinct, temenos, in the vicinity of the bright god's altar, the chthonic darkness blends with the Olympian radiance and the place acquires the status of a spiritual, cul­ tural and ethnic omphalos. Hence, with the mediating figure of Pelops, the secular Olympia "shines all," becoming the counterpart of the divine seat, Olympus, and actualizes its potential and etymological connections with OAO� and Aa{lJTW, with OAOAa{lJTii� (see n. 350, below). Olympia functions as the cauldron in which the disseminated tribes of mainland or colonial Greeks are baptized and reborn in Greekness. The cauldron of Pelops lurks in the background, emblematic of unity and spiritual rebirth.

CHAPTERl NAME THEORY AND ETYMOLOGY 1.

1. Status and Function of Name

The main subject of this section, that is, the status of the proper name and the rela­ tion between the name and its referent, has been painstakingly investigated by modem scholars of various interrelated specializations, such as theoretical linguis­ tics, learning theory, and the philosophy of language. Their research has yielded multifarious yet often contradictory results depending on the theoretical and ideo­ logical orientation and equipment of individual scholars. Comprehensive accounts of path-breaking theories on the subject of onomastics, etymology and semantics, as well as sketches of their intersecting courses and mutual influences, are sup­ II plied by a number of scholars. The proper name was, until recently, "un parent pauvre" of linguistics, notes Molino, but the birth of historical and comparative linguistics has led to the con­ stitution of a "limitotrophe and marginal discipline," a branch of semantics, which 12 is called "onomastics" and studies the origins of proper names. The field is im­ pregnated with contributions from various areas, ranging from logic and analytical philosophy to social and ethnic anthropology. With the pioneering work of Mill, Frege, Russell and many other outstanding scholars, the proper name became a logico-philosophical and semantic problem. With the work of Levi-Strauss the name became an anthropological problem studied from the angle of its pragmatics and its societal motivation and function. The growth of structuralism and semiot­ ics gave a further impetus to the study of the name and its meaning within its so­ cial, religious and literary context. The theory of signs, called "semiotics" or "semiology," and the technical terminology that originated with the philosopher C. S. Peirce and the linguist Ferdinand de Saussure respectively, have affected the 13 field. In Saussure's terminology, proper names belong not to the langue ("lan­ 14 guage-system": Lyons), but the parole ("language-behaviour": Lyons) ; his terms signifiant and signifie, or their English equivalents, signifier and signified, which evoke the ancient Greek o'Y/Jlslov, 0'Y/Jlalvov and O'Y/JlatVOf,lSVOV, have become effective tools in the study of the semantics and the relation of name and thing. 11 12 13

14

Molino 1 982: 5-20; Peradotto 1 990: 94- 1 70; Calame 1 995: 1 74-85. So Molino 1 982: 5 . Lyons 1 977, vol. I: 221-222, argues that in this branch of semantics, the "onomastics," we may trace the "etymological meaning of the name." For a critical appraisal of the semiotics of Peirce and the semiology of Saussure see Lyons 1 977, vol. 1 : 99-1 09 and 238-45, respectively. See also Granger 1 982: 23-25, 33-34, on Peirce's trichotomic classification of the sign and its relation with the object. See Lyons 1 977, yoU: 239; Granger 1 982: 36.

14

Name Theory and Etymology

The signifier and signified are the components of the sign, in Saussure's terminol­ ogy; the plane of the signifiers constitutes the plane of expression and that of the IS signifieds the plane of content. The characterization of the proper name as an "emic" category, that is, semi­ theoretical, born from the half-theoretical and half-practical reflection of the speaker, the grammarian-pedagogue and the linguist, 16 does justice to its nature but also inhibits its strict categorization. But what do we mean by "nature" of proper names? Are they short descriptions of their designatum? Do they have any meaning at all or only reference? These are only some oversimplified examples of the questions posed by modern scholars. The semantics of the proper name has been at the heart of scholarly interest, and the starting point for its theoretical attack is the definition of the proper name by the Stoic philosopher Diogenes Laertius (7.58), QVoJ,tu bE eo"tL J,tEQO£ AOYOU cST)AOUV icSCuv ltOLO"tT)"ta, olov L\WYEVT)£, "the [proper] name is a part of speech, which exhibits a proper quality of an individual as, for instance, Diogenes." In this definition the verb cST)AOW plays a key role by virtue of its semantic ambiguity; it is translated as "make visible, show, exhibit . . . explain, signifY, give sign, to be significant, possess a meaning" (LS.!). The equivocation of cST)AOW creates the dilemma: are we dealing here with mere denotation or connotation and significa­ tion? Is the proper name a label, which designates the individual and is the "qual­ ity" its distinguishing mark? Is the proper name meaningful or merely an etiquette void of meaning whose significance is exhausted in its phonic reality ("so und so Genanntsein": Funke and Marty)? Is it a word "qui est reconnu comme identifiant son objet en vertu de la distinctivite exclusive de sa constitution phonique" (Gar­ diner), a phenomenon known as sound-symbolism or phonaesthesia? 17 Or is it, in 15

16 17

Cf. Barthes 1 973: 35-48, esp. 35, 39, 42-43: "the signified is not 'a thing' but a mental repre­ sentation of the 'thing,' while Saussure "marked the mental nature of the signified by calling it a concept." Barthes prefers the analysis of the Stoics, who distinguished the CjJuv·taoCU AOYLXtj (mental representation), the tuyxuvov (the real thing) and the AExt6v (the utterable); in Barthes' opinion, the signified is neither the CjJUVtuoCu nor the tuyxuvov, but rather the AEXt6v. In Peirce's theory the term "interpetant" stands for "the mental effect produced by the sign" (apud Lyons 1 977, vol. I : 1 02). Molino 1 982: 7. The argument on the phonetic distinctiveness seems to echo the Platonic syllogism (PI. Cra. 432d-433b) as regards the parameters that affect the correctness of names. Socrates argues that as long as the pattern of a thing exists in its name, EW� av 0 tUltO� fvf] toil ltQuYl1uto� ltEQi. of) 0 A6yo£ (432e6-7), a name will be said well even if it does not have all the appropri­ ate letters, xav Ill] ltUVtU ta ltQootjXOVtU EXn, AESEtUC yE to ltQiiYl1u XUAW� (433a5). The ratio of appropriate letters and syllables determines the degree of the correctness of names and the quality of naming. In case Cratylus denies this argument, Socrates urges him to "search for another correctness of name, and do not concede that a name is a manifestation of the thing [accomplished] by means of letters and syllables," l] �tjtEL tLVa iiAAllV ov6l1atO� og86tlltU, xui. Ill] 0110AOYEL OtjAWI1U oUAAu�Ui:� xui. ygUl1l1Um ltguYI1UtO� DVOI1U dvm (433b2-3). The orthotes onomaton for Plato depends on the faithful reproduction of the rvno� and the proportion of the ltQootjXOVtU ygUl111UtU (432d-433c); the name is OtjAWI1U ltguYI1Uto� and this suggests not mere denotation but a composite mimetic activity, which

Status and Function of Name

15

the final analysis, "the most significant word of all as the most individual" (Breal, 18 Jespersen et ai.)? Of cardinal importance for the relation of name and thing, is, consequently, the deliberation of whether proper names have (a) no sense or (b) sense and refer­ 19 ence. John Stuart Mill, the exponent of (a), the "no-sense" theory, divides names into two basic categories: non-connotative and connotative. As regards the former category, Mill argues that "A non-connotative term is one which signifies a sub­ ject only" (e.g. John, London), "or an attribute only" (whiteness, length etc.). "None of these names '" are connotative" . . . "all concrete general names" (e.g. white, long, virtuous) "are connotative ... The word man, for example, denotes Peter, Jane, John, and an indefinite number of other individuals, of whom, taken as a class, it is the name" (31). The class of common nouns is connotative: "the word white, denotes all white things, as snow, paper, the foam of the sea, etc., and implies, or . . . connotes the attribute whiteness" (31). Hence, the common noun man would denote all men, and connote all those properties which would figure in a definition of the word man. Mill contends, consequently, that "proper names are not connotative; they denote the individuals who are called by them; but they do not indicate or imply any attributes as belonging to those individuals" (33). "We must have had some reason for giving those names," he continues, "but the name, once given, is independent of the reason" (e.g. the town named Dartmouth) ... "proper names are attached to the objects themselves, and are not dependent on the continuance of any attribute of the object." Mill speaks of giving "to an indi­ vidual a name utterly unmeaning, which we call a proper name, a word which answers the purpose of showing what thing it is we are talking about, but not of telling anything about it" (33). So proper names do not have sense; they are mean­ ingless marks and simply stand for the object; they denote the name-bearer but do not suggest any set of characteristics that could distinguish the name-bearer from other objects. Specialists have pointed out the limitations and the logical incongruities of 20 Mill's "no-sense" theory. Lyons, denouncing notions such as those of Jespersens and of others, who contend that the proper name is the most meaningful of words

18 19 20

takes into account the visual, acoustic and cognitive considerations involved in the recogni­ tion of a thing and the evaluation of the correctness of its name. Here I am indebted to Molino 1 982: 1 3 , in particular. See Lyons 1 977, vo!. 1 : 1 04, 219. Mill 1 949/ 1 974: 1: 3 1-24-45, esp. section 5. See Searle 1 958: 1 66-173; id. 1 970: 1 64-65; Kripke 1 972: 255-58, for a critical review of the theories of Mill (with the 'Dartmouth' example), Frege and Russell; see also ib. 283 with n. 29 for the refutation of Mill by W. Kneale. See also Peradotto 1 990: 96 with n. 1 .

16

Name Theory and Etymology

21

and "expresses the totality of its designatum, espouses the "no-sense" theory of 22 23 Mill, while making room for the etymological meaning of the proper name: "If we trace the etymology of institutionalized names of persons and places in various lan­ guages (in that branch of semantics that is known as onomastics), we will usually find that they had the same kind of origin. For example, 'John' comes through Greek and Latin, from a Hebrew name, which could be interpreted . . . as 'God has been gracious.' We will call this the etymological meaning of the name; and it would seem to be appropriate to extend the cover­ age of this term to include the synchronically motivated, as well as diachronically discover­ able, interpretation of names."

Although Lyons recognizes the etymological and the symbolic meanings of some names, making these meanings dependent upon cultural conventions and prac­ tices, as shown by the anthropological treatments of word-magic and taboo, he reasserts his basic thesis: "But they do not have sense, or some unique and special ,,24 kind of meaning which distinguishes them as a class from common nouns. 25 Gottlob Frege expounds the (b),"sense and reference," theory. Auxiliary to the comprehension of his theory is the definition of some basic concepts, such as "sign and name" by which he understands "any designation figuring as a proper name, which thus has as its meaning a definite object . . . but not a concept or rela­ tion . . . The designation of a single object can also consist of several words and other signs. For brevity, let every such designation be called a proper name" (57). Frege's definition of a proper name is quite loose and builds upon the postulate that knowledge is not affected by the presence of different designations for the same objects. The "point of intersection of a and b," and the "point of intersection of b and c" in a triangle, for instance, are the same things with different designa­ tions; these names "indicate the mode of presentation" (Art des Gegebenseins) (57). Frege formulates a distinction between the Sinn and Bedeutung, "sense and ,, 26 meaning" of the sign, "wherein the mode of presentation is contained. Frege makes some comments whose effect on ancient onomastics is far-reaching (58): 21

22

23 24 25 26

Lyons 1 977: vo\. 1 : 220: Jespersen's claim ( 1 924: 66), in deliberate contradiction to Mill, that proper names (as actually used) "connote the greatest number of attributes" is misleading; for it trades upon an equivocation between the philosophical and the more popular sense of 'con­ notation. ' See also Peradotto 1 990: 97; Molino 1982: 1 3 . Lyons 1 977: vo\. 1 : 2 1 9 : "The linguistic status o f names has long been a subject of contro­ versy, not only amongst philosophers, but also amongst linguists . . . One of the questions that has been most hotly disputed is whether names have a sense. What is probably the most widely accepted philosophical view nowadays is that they may have reference, but not sense, and that they cannot be used predicatively purely as names; and this is also the view that we shall adopt." Lyons 1 977: vo\. 1 : 221 -22. Lyons 1977; vo\. 1 : 222-23. Frege 1 980: 56-78. Frege 1 980: 57, clarifies his point using also the example of the evening or morning star: "the meaning [sc. Bedeutung] of the expressions 'the point of intersection of a and b,' and the 'point of intersection of band c' would be the same, but not their sense [sc. Sinn]. The mean­ ing of the 'evening star' would be the same as that of the 'morning star,' but not the sense."

I

L

Status and Function of Name

17

"The regular connexion between a sign [sc. proper name], its sense [sc. Sinn], and what it means [sc. Bedeutung] is of such a kind that to the sign there corresponds a definite sense and to that in turn a definite thing meant, while to a given thing meant (an object) there does not belong only a single sign. The same sense has different expressions in different languages or even in the same language . . . To every expression belonging to a complete totality of signs, there should certainly correspond a defmite sense; but natural languages often do not satisfY this condition, and one must be content if the same word has the same sense in the same con­ text. It may perhaps be granted that every grammatically well-formed expression figuring as a proper name always has a sense. But this is not to say that to the sense there also corresponds ,, a thing meant. 27

In other words, a sign corresponds to an object and has a definite sense, but not only one sign corresponds to an object; natural languages do not behave in this way, hence we should acquiesce with the compromising option of finding the same sense in the same context. Frege's theory, apart from the complexity and inconvenience of the two almost synonymous senses, postulates the existence of one definite description, and of course deals with natural languages and even "a perfect language" (58*). Frege's stance towards poetic or mythical names be­ comes transparent when he exemplifies the subject of the sense and meaning in assertoric sentences, in which Odysseus is a subject. "The sentence 'Odysseus was set ashore at Ithaca while sound asleep' obviously has a sense," he says, "But since it is doubtful whether the name 'Odysseus' . .. means anything, it is also doubtful whether the whole sentence does" (62). Whoever considers the sentence to be true or false "would ascribe to the name 'Odysseus' a meaning, not merely a sense" (62). I shall conclude my presentation of Frege with a significant passage (63): "But why do we want every proper name to have not only a sense, but also a meaning? Why is the thought not enough for us? Because, and to the extent that, we are concerned with its truth-value. This is not always the case. In hearing an epic poem, for instance, apart from the euphony of the language we are interested only in the sense of the sentences and the images and feelings thereby aroused. The question of truth would cause us to abandon aesthetic de­ light for an attitude of scientific investigation. Hence it is a matter of no concern to us whether the name 'Odysseus,' for instance, has meaning, so long as we accept the poem as a work of art. It is the striving for truth that drives us always to advance from the sense to the thing meant."

Frege fails to recognize the deeper and almost mystical value of the ancient proper names, their literary merit and their contribution for the production of this very

27

He also argues (58) that "the sense of a proper name is grasped by everybody who is suffi­ ciently familiar with the language or totality of designations to which it belongs" -here he ex­ amines the variations of sense as regards an actual name such as 'Aristotle' - and claims that "this serves to illuminate only a single aspect of the thing meant," but we never attain com­ prehensive knowledge ofthe thing meant (58). See also Frege 1 980: 6 1 : "A proper name (word, sign, combination, expression) expresses its sense, means or designates its meaning. By employing a sign we express its sense and desig­ nate its meaning."

18

Name Theory and Etymology

aesthetic pleasure he praises, and which in great part derives from the interchange of sounds as well as the lamination of the meanings of the name; proper names generate narrative, and this elusive yet fertile interaction transforms the story into a 'literature,' which is admired and fervently studied still today; centuries have not dimmed its lustre, and certainly not because one expects to find scientific truth in it. Ancient Greek poetry consciously fabricates multiple and exciting "truths," manipulating the potential of sounds and lexemes of proper names among others, and making names a compositional and narratological factor. The choice of Odys­ seus is rather infelicitous; this specific name and its bearer are notorious for their elusiveness, as shown in many learned and sensitive studies. Frege's theoretical proposals have met with a mixed response. Molino inter­ prets the term "sens" as the point of view in which the individual is presented, that is, through the definite description(s), which allow us to identify the individual, and argues that these definite descriptions do not give us the sense of the proper name; they only fix the reference?8 Searle observes that it is only in virtue of this Sinn of the proper name that the name refers to an object, and the sense contains a "mode of presentation," which identifies the referent.29 "Frege's instinct was sound," says Searle, "in inferring from the fact that we do make factually informa­ tive identity statements using proper names that they must have a sense, but he was wrong in supposing that this sense is straightforward as in a definite descrip­ tion." According to Searle, a proper name performs an identifying function, as long as the content of the name's identifying description is unobjectionable, true and recognized by the users of the name.30 Searle recognizes the difference of proper names as regards their "descriptive content," which depends on whether these names belong to living or historical persons; keeping in mind the essential fact "that we have the institution of proper names to perform the speech act of identifying reference," he admits: "we never get referring completely isolated from predication for to do so would be to violate the principle of identification, ,, without conformity to which we cannot refer at all. 3l 28

29

30

31

Molino 1 982: 1 5-16, summarizes the Fregean theory using the example of the mountain which is named "Alfa" by one explorer, who sees such and such properties, and "Ateh" by another, who sees different properties, and argues that the definite descriptions do not give us the sense of the proper name; they only fix the reference. Searle 1 970: 1 68. See also Peradotto 1990: 97, who cites Searle 1 967: 488. Cf. Kripke 1 972: 255: according to Frege, the definite description gives sense to the name; see also ib. 277: "Frege should be criticized for using the term 'sense' in two senses. For he takes the sense of a designator to be its meaning; and he also takes it the way its reference is determined. Identi­ fying the two, he supposes that both are given by definite descriptions." Searle 1 970: 1 7 1 : "Furthermore, we now see how an utterance of a proper name satisfies the principle of identification: if both the speaker and the hearer associate some identifying de­ scription with the name, then the utterance of the name is sufficient to satisfy the principle of the identification, for both the speaker and the hearer are able to substitute an identifying de­ scription. The utterance of the name communicates a proposition to the hearer. It is not neces­ sary that both should supply the same identifying description, provided only that their de­ scriptions are in fact true of the same object." Searle 1 970: 174.

Status and Function of Name

19

The theoretical debate also extends to proper names, which are drawn from extra-empirical and unreal territories such as the religious and mythical traditions. What happens when the proper names do not denote real, historical persons but figures such as Santa Claus and Pegasus? Do names have a sense in existential propositions of the type "Cerberus does not exist"? wonders Searle, and argues further that "here proper names cannot be said to refer for no such subject of an existential statement can refer ... if a proper name occurs in an existential state­ ,, ment it must have some conceptual or descriptive content. 32 The impulse for speculations of that sort was given by Russell, who postu­ lated that such proper names are abbreviated or disguised descriptions. There are logic proper names, which always denote an existing object, he argues, but there are some other names, such as "Romulus," which refers not to an existing person but "stands for a person who did such-and-such things, who killed Remus and founded Rome, and so on." According to Russell, "if it were really a name, the question of existence could not arise, because a name has got to name something or it is not a name, and if there is no such person as Romulus ... this single word 'Romulus' is really a sort of truncated or telescoped description, and if you think ,, of it as a name you will get into logical errors. 33 The doctrine of Russell "that such expressions are not really proper names," has been criticized by Kripke and Searle from a logical point of view.34 According to Searle, "the referent of a name is determined not by a single description but by ,, some cluster or family of descriptions. 35 "A proper name does not describe the object at all," in contrast to the definite description, which refers to an object de­ scribing some aspect of it.36 In his earlier article (1958), Searle argues that proper names "function not as descriptions, but as pegs on which to hang descriptions," and attempts to exhibit "the poverty of a rigid sense-reference, denotation­ connotation approach to the problems in the theory of meaning," by attacking the "paradox: does a proper name have a sense?" He answers: "If this asks whether or not proper names are used to describe or specify characteristics of the objects, the answer is 'no.' But if it asks whether or not proper names are logically connected with characteristics of the object to which they refer, the answer is 'yes, in a loose 32 33

34

35

36

Searle 1 970: 165. Russell: 1 956: 243. See also ib. 200-0 1 , "the names that we commonly use like 'Socrates,' are really abbreviations for descriptions; not only that, but what they describe are not particulars but complicated systems of classes or series." Cf. Kripke's objections, 1 972: 256, "names don't seem to be disguised descriptions . . . if there is not such a descriptive content to the name," then people determine the references of certain names ostensibly by pointing to some­ thing. "This was Russell's doctrine of acquaintance." Searle 1 970: 1 65 , "Attempts such as Russell's to evade this point have taken the form of saying that such expressions are not really proper names, a desperate maneuver which shows that something must be wrong with the assumptions which drive one to it." For a critical evaluation of the tenets of Russell (and Frege) see also Kripke 1 972: 255-56. Searle 1 958: 1 66-73; cited by Kripke ( 1 972: 258 with n. 8) who characterizes the article a locus classicus of this view, which "may seem to keep all the virtues and remove the defects of this theory." Searle 1 970: 1 63 .

20

Name Theory and Etymology

sort of way'.,,37 Searle takes here a critical and compromising stance vis-a-vis John Stuart Mill and Gottlob Frege. Saul A. Kripke takes a new approach to the issue of semantics with his theory of the rigidity of the proper name and its independence from the accompanying definite description. 38 Kripke uses the term "designator" to cover names and de­ scriptions (254), and the notion of the "identity across possible worlds," or "transworld identity," which he clarifies further: "possible worlds are stipulated, not discovered by powerful telescopes" (267, 269). On this notion he bases his theory of the rigid designator: we "call something a rigid designator if in any possible world it designates the same object, a non rigid or accidental designator if that is not the case (269-70) .. . When we think of a property as essential to an object we usually mean that it is true of that object in any case where it should have existed ... although someone other than the V.S. President in 1 970 might have been the V.S. President in 1 970 ... no one other than Nixon might have been Nixon. In the same way, a designator rigidly designates a certain object if it des­ ignates that object wherever the object exists" (270).39 According to Kripke, consequently, an essential property accompanies an in­ dividual under any circumstances and makes it identifiable. But an individual can undergo many changes in life, factual or contrafactual, that is, real or stipulated by the thinker. Stipulations can be modified at will and ad infinitum, but what re­ mains stable and unchanged is the proper name, Nixon is always Nixon in Kripke's examples, whatever are the real or fictive personal, temporal or spatial modifications undergone by the individual which this name designates. Kripke's theory targets the stability and the permanence of the proper name and the identity it designates. Of the current critical appraisals, I choose to quote that of Calame, who touches on Kripke's theories in a brief study of the ancient epic and lyric etymo­ logical techniques. Calame argues:40 "We have come a long way from the idea of the rigid designator developed by Kripke and from the idea of self-reference proposed by Gottlob Frege. In the case discussed here, the identity denoted by the name can vary according to the world of which the name is part. In its literary usage the Greek proper name becomes the equivalent of a rhetorical figure: in addi­ tion to its designating role, it performs an indisputable figurative and descriptive function, one deriving from the play on etymology. The name is a metaphor for the identity of its bearer."

37 38 39

40

Searle 1 958: 1 72, 1 73 . Kripke 1 972: 253-355. On Kripke's tenets see Molino 1 982: 1 4- 1 5 ; Peradotto 1 990: 98; Calame 1 995: 1 74, 1 79, 1 84. The rigid designator, the "notion of identity across possible worlds" and its corollary of "noms propres intermondains" have been critically reviewed by Granger 1 982: 3 1-32, who argues that the attribution of a proper name should not be confused with a simple "etiquetage," which corresponds only to one of the functions of the proper name, the designa­ tion of a unique object. Calame 1 995: 1 8 4-85.

l

Status and Function of Name

21

The significance of a proper name is studied further from the angle of an external parameter, the pragmatics. This investigates the use and the function of the proper name in its real "habitat," i.e. the external world and the specific communities in which it is nestled; the chosen name mirrors the particular societal interests, val­ ues and religious or civic institutions; social ambience and namegiving display a close interaction and reciprocity .41 Of the uses of proper names, the baptismal is the most widespread in all human communities, ancient Greek society and poetry being no exceptions. Baptism, in Molino's formulation, is an "acte social par excellence," gives birth to an anthroponym and is founded upon a performative action. It is precisely this baptismal ceremony that explains the arbitrary character of the proper names: ,, "ils sont arbitraires en ce qu' ils sont poses. 42 The performative nomination, usu­ ally introduced with a conventional formula of the type "I name you so and so," is not a mere description of a baptism, but the actual performance of it. In some cul­ tures people are renamed during their passage from one state of their life into an­ other, e.g. from childhood into adulthood, and graduate to a hierarchically higher status within the social matrix; so the "performative renomination" is an important element in the rites of passage. On such occasions, "The name of a person is ,, something that is held to be an essential part of him. 43 This acknowledgment should make us reconsider the notion of arbitrariness, and wonder if we have un­ dervalued the names given at birth. The baptismal attribution of proper names is part of the cultural and religious inheritance of the ancient and traditional commu­ nities as well; the extant poetic and mythic traditions evidence the distinctive ten­ dency of the ancients to explicate both the old and the new name, thus disqualify­ ing the modem assumption of arbitrariness.44 41

42 43 44

Molino 1 982: 1 6- 1 7. Granger 1 982: 23-24, by pragmatics understands everything that con­ cerns the rapport of the enunciated with the circumstances of the enunciation, not the empiri­ cal circumstances which derive from psycho-linguistics or socio-linguistics, but the general forms of these conditions, without which any communicable signification cannot be pro­ duced; cf. pp. 27-28, as regards the semantics of a word and the role of pragmatics: once the circumstances of the enunciation are sufficiently fixed, the description becomes possible: the semantic function of the word is governed and actualized by the pragmatic elements. Molino 1 982: 1 7. So Lyons 1 977, voU : 2 1 8 with n. 1 1 , discussing the performative nomination and re­ nomination (in rites of passage). Lack of arbitrariness and experiences of the namegiver as the motivational force behind namegiving are unmistakable in the famous baptismal scene of Odysseus (Od. 1 9): his mater­ nal grandfather, Autolycus, performs the baptism and gives the infant a name that commemo­ rates his own sufferings: the hatred, actively or passively, that marks the life of Autolycus, is ominously tranferred to his grandson, thus motivating his name and explicating his vita; the entire Odysssey provides a tableau on which is played and tested the meaning of this inauspi­ cious name. Hatred runs in the family, exemplifying the notion of family continuity and he­ redity. For similar fully motivated renominations or baptisms see Cleopatra-A1cyone (ll. 9. 556-94); Scamandrius-Astyanax (I/. 6. 400-03 - 22. 506-07); Telemachus, Neoptolemus, Eu­ rysakes, Megapenthes etc. This selective sampling of Greek baptism or renaming occurrences ties in well with the social function of name and the practices registered by Levi-Strauss.

22

Name Theory and Etymology

In his pioneering anthropological study (La Pensee Sauvage), C laude Levi­ Strauss explores the second objective of pragmatics, namely, the social motivation and function of proper names in a number of exotic societies.45 He observes that these communities possess an impressive variety of names, which draw from a vast repository of social conventions and personal experiences. Levi-Strauss documents the strictness of rules of namegiving and the richness of name reperto­ ries: people are named after the totem animal of the clan or its habits and attrib­ utes (real or mythical), hence names are divided into the Bear clan, the Bison clan, the Wolf clan etc., and appertain to a fixed and conventional name repository. People form proper names by detotalizing species and by deducting a partial as­ pect of them (176). A vast variety of name formations is exhibited in various so­ cieties: not only the eponymous totemic animal, but also technical or economic activities, natural phenomena and celestial bodies, behavior of parents, recent or imminent death and stressful situations, social or material destitution and a great number of other social or personal factors determine the names given within these exotic societies. As Levi- Strauss argues, "what we have here are thus two extreme types of proper name between which there is a series of intermediate cases. At one extreme, the name is an identifying mark which ... establishes that the individual who is named is a member of a preordained class ... At the other extreme, the name is a free creation on the part of the individual who gives the name and ex­ presses a transitory and subjective state of his own by means of the person he names" (181). Levi-Strauss claims that this process is not really a naming, since one identifies an individual by assigning him to a class and also identifies onself through the named individual; "one therefore never names; one classes someone ,, else ... and one classes oneself. 46 Individuals are identified by means of personal names, tecnonyms ("father of so-and-so"), necronyms, that is, with "relational" terms, which signify kinship, brother or sister of ... etc. (192). Since "they derive from paradigmatic sets, proper names thus form the fringe of a general system of classification: they are both its extension and its limit ... proper names represent the quanta of signification below which one no longer does anything but point" (215). Levi- Strauss concludes that the passage from the act of signifying to that of pointing is discontinuous 47 although each culture fixes its thresholds differently ... 45

46

47

Levi-Strauss 1 972, ch. 6: "Universalization and Particularization" ( 1 6 1 - 1 90), and ch. 7: "The Individual as a Species" ( 1 9 1 -2 1 6). For a brief reference to anthropological and popular (folk) etymology as well as the motivation of "Weltverhilltnis und Weltverstandnis" in naming, see Herbermann 1 98 1 : 45 with n. 40. Cf., however, Granger 1 982: 28: In the second type of naming, the name giver does not clas­ sify himself; the fact that he expresses himself in naming is only accessory: "I' essentiel est que sa propre presence dans l' acte de nomination fasse de celui-ci une interpellation." The notion of interpellation, which borders on the vocative, occupies a preeminent place in Granger's theory about the proper name. Here Levi-Strauss ( 1 972: 2 1 5) objects to the definition of proper names as "indices" (Peirce) and the discovery of the logical model of proper names in the demonstrative pronouns (Rus­ sell), because both theories allow "that the act of naming belongs to a continuum in which there is an imperceptible passage from the act of signifying to that of pointing."

Status and Function of Name

23

So terms of different degrees of generality will be regarded each time as proper names (215). "From a formal point of view there is thus no fundamental differ­ ence between the zoologist or the botanist who allots a recently discovered plant to the position Elephantopus spicatus and the Omaha priest who defines the social paradigms of a new member of the group by conferring the available name Old-bison 's-worn-hoof on him. They know what they are doing in both cases" (215-16).48 The validity of some of Levi-Strauss ' arguments has been questioned on the level of function and significance.49 To start with function, the social character of namegiving is accepted, since in all cultures namegiving obeys some rules of code value, but two quite different perspectives of analysis are discerned here: the rules of production, the "poietique," of the proper name, and the result of the applica­ tion, which Molino calls "le niveau neutre de ce systeme symbolique." Molino challenges the consideration of multiple proper names within a culture as a classi­ fication or code, since this multiplicity is not in the service of a general strategy of cl�ssification and the principles of classification can go on indefinitely. Here lies, he argues, the fundamental difference between classification and nomination: the individual is not a species ; a species has a limited number of names and is defined by a unique hierarchical classification in contrast to the individual, who is the bearer of a virtual infinity of independent classifications. In the former case, the classifications classify; in the latter the individual sustains the multiple and inde­ pendent classifications which enrich his social definition. As for the significance, the name does indeed signify, but to whom, wonders Molino. 50 To the anthropologist, who often does not speak the native language, or to the giver or the bearer of the name? The exegesis of the ethnologist may be . . .

48

49 50

Some of Levi-Strauss' categories are canonical in ancient Greek namegiving, which is moti­ vated to a great extent by similar social considerations and stratifications: parental experi­ ences and features, vocational or guild names and properties required of specific societal groups. Seers bear names descriptive of their "knowledge" (7oalo�, IIo;"v"ioo� and (111Q unite in a complementary manner that guarantees their invisibility. The two goddesses ride a chariot down to earth to rescue the Achaeans from the fury of Ares. Hera goads the horses, which fly between the earth and the starry sky, in midair (767-69), and become the recipients of her qualities: the derivation of l04 a�(l, Ol]AOutm, <paoC, xaL El( tOU avaYQallllatUJllou ; EGud. l] 247. 38. See Rank 1 95 1 : 47-48. Kirk 1 990: 1 37-38 ad 5 . 770-72. See sch. E Od. 7 . 14; sch PQT Od. 7 . 1 5 ; sch H Od. 9. 144; sch Q Od. 1 3 . 352. See also �E(lO­ rpoLn�: sch. Nm 11. 9. 571b; sch. AbT 11. 9. 5 7 1 c; sch. A ll. 1 9. 87a. .

105 106

107

Athena, the goddess of bright air and clear vision, also exhibits her contrasting powers in the Odyssey, pouring or dissolving darkness, aera: she controls both darkness and luminosity,

Epexegesis and Analysis of words

51

The goddess of oo 1 12

1 13 114

Epexegesis and Analysis of words

53

scends from Olympus to dissuade Achilles from fighting with Agamemnon. Her intervention is narrated with a cluster of cognates and synonyms. Upon seeing her, Achilles is stunned, but immediately understands and recognizes her ( 1 . 1 97-200): atf] 0' om8Ev, 1;uv8f]£ OE x,61-t'l]£ EAE IT'I]AE·L(!)VU OL<Jl qJaLVOIU;Ylr tWV 0' Un(!)V illi tL£ 6QfuQ. 8au�uqEv 0' AXLAEtJ£, I-tEtU 0' ftQaJtEt', UUt(X,U 0' � ITuAAao' :4.81jva{1jv OEIVi'o 6E 0\ oqm: waUy8EY" "She stood behind him [sc.Achilles], and caught the son of Peleus by his tawny hair, allowing herself to be seen by him alone, and of the rest no one saw her. And Achilles was struck with wonder, and turned round, and at once recognized Pallas Athene; and terribly did her eyes flash" (Murray, rev. Wyatt, Loeb).

Athena is significantly qualified in this passage as JIaUa� (200) and YAavuwm� (206), which anticipate the character of her operation. The ancient scholiasts comprehend the message emitted by the Homeric context, and contend that she is I IS As abstract intellect, she called Pal/as as the personification of agile reason. grabs Achilles by the hair because there resides the rational part of the soul. I 1 6 Besides her mental dynamis, this passage also narrativizes her associations with vision, even though exclusive and preferential (she is visible only to Achilles), and recapitulates the meaning of YAavuwm� and Athena-Athrene; these words belong to the same semantic field. In the verse 6ELVW bE ot OOOE cp6.av8Ev (200) the identity of ot is ambiguous: whose eyes terribly flash: hers or his? Ancient and modem scholars vacillate between the two options. 1 1 7 This dilemma is rather phony; the phrase YAavuwm� AfhZVI1 may concatenate two words that emphati­ cally point out the sight and brightness of Athena « YAavaaw [= to see]+ w1/J/oJrwJra, and atew/CdJQiw), ll8 but even if Athena's shiny eyes are meant here, and the context seems to favor this option, this is actually of little import: the epic technique of "transference of etymology" also implicates Achilles as her sur­ rogate figure; the etymological and functional semata of Athena are transferred onto her favorite, who becomes the recipient and sounding board of her power and attributes. Athena is virtually identified with her protege, who enjoys a privileged mode of communication with her. The tokens of her etymology and identity, her shiny eyes and proper name, implement the mediation and parallelism.

liS

116

117 118

Sch. bT 11. 1 . 1 99-200: JIaAACtc; oE JtuQu tU£ naAa/Ja�, � 15tL EUX,(V'I]to£ 6 vou£ «waEt JttEQOV ijE v6'1]l-tu» (11 3 6); the latter derivation, alluded to behind the disjuncted notion of agility (� EUX,(V'I]tO£), goes back to avanaAAo/Jw (sch. A (D) 11. 1 . 200). See sch. A(D) 11. 1 . 195: :4.81jva, 15 fatLy ij rpQ6v1jat� OEL YUQ ... XUt tf]£ x,61-t'l]£ UUtOV X,QU­ tELV X,Ut Oux, unol.l I-tEQOl.l£ toU awl-tuto£, an' Ev8u LOQl.ItaL to AOYLX,OV tf]£ tj!l.Ixf]£ I-tEQO£ . Similarly Corn. Epidr. c. 20, p. 35. 6- 15. See Robertson 1999: 1 -7. On YAavu6)m�, yOQy6)m�, YAavu6� see pp. 1 83-84, below. On the etymological and seman­ tic identification of YAavu6)m� and :4.81jv1j: Peraki-Kyriakidou 2004: 3 47 with nn. 20,2 1 .

54

Ancient Poetic Etymology

The choice of insignia underpins the etymology: it is not accidental that qJi/vrz, a bird associated with qJa{vw, is sacred to Athena (Ael. NA 1 2. 4). 1 19 Eustathius (Od. 1 : 1 32. 1 8 ad Od. 3. 346) entertains a wordplay on the etymology of qJi/vrz and the disappearance of Athena, speaking of tOY tft� A8l]va� O£ tEQaOtLOV aqJavwllov EV OXtlllan qJi/vrz�. The pertinent Odyssean passage is studded with clusters of cognates or synonyms that signify sight, awe and sur­ prise; here Athena flies off disguised as qJi/vrz (3. 372-73): w� aQa f.l0LW£ 010 xaL 1:0 uowQ, omv 1:QaxuvOfl, xaOureEQ � 1:11£ OaMnTj£ f.l0LW£ ou reaou, � reQo£ to aiYLaA0 OE. f.lEAU£ M yE reovto£ X1JALVOEL I XU!-LUL nEToLouv. Blame, \jJoyo;, is dark (skoteinos) in Nem. 7. 6 1 . On the darkness of pthonos see Irwin 1 974: 135-56; Bulman 1 992: 62-65. Kohnken 1 97 1 : 33-34 with n. 59 (about dark foils), observes apropos of Nem. 8. 2 1 -23 and 32-34, that the envious speech and its bad consequences is the dark background from which rises the praise song all the more brighter. Griffith 1 989: 1 73, speaks "of the customary Pin­ daric chiaroscuro that plays the light of victory off against the darkness of human mortality." See Hamilton 2003: 77-79: "Pindar's is an art of chiaroscuro, for the light of praise . . . has its ground of possibility in the darkness of non-praise. He regards the "Pindaric poikilia as the poetic practice of tempering the light of praise by means of the darkness . . . In weaving to­ gether the lightness of praise and the darkness of its detraction, the poet 'plaits a woven hymn' (nAExwv I nOLxLAoV U!-LVOV al. 6. 86-87)." Poikilia is hence "protective" as intending to avert envy. Gildersleeve 1 890: 128, notes: "To make the myth resplendent as his themes, he [Pindar] must remove the foulness of envious tongues." Cf. 10hnston 1 995: 1 89 with n. 26. Gerber 1982: 93, argues that the choice of xuTunE\j!aL is "influenced by the preceding refer­ ences to Tantalus' banquet," and "is simply one element in a broader theme that permeates much of the ode, namely the contrast between proper and improper behaviour at symposia;" Hieron and the revised version of the Tantalic dinner "serve as a model for the former," while the rejected version of Tantalus' banquet and theft "serve as a model for the latter." On the echoes of the cannibalistic dinner see also Nagy 1986: 85-86; Hamilton 2003 : 91 -92 et al.

137

Pelops in Pindar

gestion of human flesh is translated in images of darkness, thus matching the am­ biguous chromatic name of Pelops. The ambiguity continues with the ancient scholia, which derive the adjective &vrara either from & vrC(!o� or from &vw : � 'ta �£�g£YItEVa 'to UtJLUtt (sch. Pi. 01. 1 . 80a, b), thus evoking the image of bloody gore along with its chromatic connotations. The expression w� {j ' awav'tO� breA£� (46)304 in the vicinity of phthonos and the tale of dismembering, boiling and feasting upon a child, condenses in itself a convoluted network of two etymo­ logical alternatives for Pel-ops: (a) an antiphrastic rendition of his o'ljJ (LSJ B = o'ljJ��, oQav), by which Pelops ' presence and visibility is denied, and (b) an anti­ phrastic rendition of his nEAa�, by which his vicinity is denied. Thus Pelops' ety­ mological associations resurface here: he was neither "visible" nor "near;" so he was absent and far away, rijA£/n�AvL The picture is clarified further with the copulative verb niAOllat, nEAw, which echoes the first part of his name. How­ ever, the phrase awav'tO� {n£A£� is also tantamount to "you were dead": negating the component o'ljJ O'ljJt� in Pel-ops, it subtly correlates the hero with the world beneath and Hades, who is linked with invisibility and darkness « a-priv.+l&iv; cf. �£Q6£t�, dIQ05£t�, aOQa a{a ). The implicit connection with Hades ties in with the diffused darkness of the context and the presumed death of the hero. Pelops, invisible and distanced, is said to have disappeared (awav'tO� (neA£�) in death from the point of view of envious and ignorant mortals. The inspired and veridical poet, abstaining from blasphemous tales, translates Pelops to illustrious and radiant Olympus, while the envious, laymen imagine him engulfed in the darkness of divine stomachs. A verbal network of cognates, syno­ nyms or antonyms is woven around Pelops' figure in the Pindaric passage cited above: the pel- and -ops sounds of his name are made integral parts of a complex and elusive dramatization of his myth. With this imaginative and intricate word­ play, Pindar offers us a glimpse of the sheer power that is inherent in Pelops' name, and his own JtoLXLA.La (a word used also of trickery), aocpLa and Itll 't L£. 305 Pindar does not mention the traditional element, that is, the consumption of the shoulder, which is "a prominent part of the victim in sacrificial ritual and ,, maenadic sparagmos (Eur. Ba. 1 1 27). 306 Pindar abstains from this impious ver­ sion, and of course does not spell out the name of the supposedly flesh-devouring and/or restoring god. This information is provided by the Pindaric scholia (sch. Pi. 01. 1 . 40a, c, d) and the mythographic tradition: Demeter, a mother robbed of her daughter, or Themis, the goddess of justice, sorely needed in this impious story (cf. £uvobluha'tOv Egavov, 37-38), are said to have tasted Pelops' shoulder. The task of restoring the mangled child is undertaken either by Hermes, the mediating god who presides over initiation, kleptosyne, broken oaths and transgression of boundaries, or by Rhea, a mother also brutally denied the opportunity to raise =

304 305 306

This phrase incorporates the dimensions of "far"/"absent" in Young 1968: 1 1 7. On poetiC!.lijTL�: Pi. al. 1 . 9; Nem. 3. 9. On itOLX(AO� for mental capacity: Hes. Theog. 5 1 1 , of Prometheus; Pi. 01. 1 . 29 ; Nem. 5. 28 ; Pyth. 9. 77-78, itOLXLAAELV aocpoT�. On the significance of dJJ1aoto� and the shoulder blade see Henrichs 1 980: 222 n. 5; Burker! 1 983: 100 with llll . 35, 36. •••

138

Pe10ps and his Name - Literary Tradition

children; her cave during the Lycaean games serves as the gathering place for grieving mothers, who seek to reintegrate and save their family.307 Pelops is out of sight at this point, and reputedly in the stomach of a divinity. Pindar emphasizes the greediness or, to be etymologically correct, the "madness of the belly" (JuiQYo� ; insinuating proximity and vision it draws a connecting line, too, between the god and Pel-ops on whose etymological mark­ ers it harks (nEAac;+o'IjJ = o'IjJ�c;, LSJ B). A comparable poetical strategy is ob­ served in the latter, UltUEV puguxtUltov: this action ("he shouted") hints at -o'IjJ, the second component of Pel-ops, only this time in the sense of o'IjJ = voice (LSJ A), and also evokes the canonical association of Poseidon with thunderous noise. In this context the qualities of the two ex-lovers mingle intricately: Pe1-ops cries aloud to Poseidon, fulfilling the expectations of his own name, which ties in well with the features of Poseidon pugUXtUltO£, !1uxrt ta£, OELo(XSo)V. 326 In this passage the poet indulges in a linguistic game, based on reciprocity and transference. Manipulating the functional and etymological specificities of the god and his paidika, Pindar allows the hero to capture and "bind" his ex-partner, thus illustrating his own poetic poikilia, on the etymological plane this time: the names Pelops and Poseidon exhibit mutual and overlapping inroads; words that ety­ mologize the one have a bearing also on the other. In this closely-knit tissue, an incessant trafficking and exchange of qualities binds the two ex-partners in love; etymological markers are transferred from the one member of this erotic syzygy, 61l�Ma, to the other with the ultimate purpose of consolidating their liasion and reciprocity on the linguistic level as well. The technique by which the etymologi­ cal markers and their underlying conceptual cargo is transferred from their natural bearer to a different but related person is well-attested in the Homeric epos and the Homeric Hymns, and often involves surrogate or foil figures. Here the erotic past and the functional duplication of Poseidon and Pelops becomes a matter of linguistic representation as well as religious accommodation: Pindar accumulates and integrates in the narrative the major dynameis of Poseidon, thus casting Pelops' prayer in the conventional manner that ensures its efficacy. In the sequel of his story, Pindar draws a portrait of Pelops, which foreshad­ ows the Platonic, but with telling differentiations. Unlike Plato, who finds Pelops ' vision of the future shortsighted, examining the myth from a moral and utilitarian angle on the basis of what is beneficial not solely for the individual but for his lineage as a whole, the epinician poet focuses on the effectiveness of Pelops' vi325 326

For the formulation of this motif see Young 1968: 35-68, 1 1 6-20. Sch. Pi. 01. 1 . 1 1 6b, {JaQvwcvlCoV oE dJtE tOV I1oaELoGJva altO ,(OV x-rVlCOV tf]� 8aAaaaT]�. Cf. Corn. Epidr. c. 4, p. 4. 14, lCd50adwv; c. 22, p. 42. 1 -9, tvoa{x8wv, tvoa{yaw�, at:w{­ X8wv, �u1{T]ta�.

Pelops in Pindar

145

sion in terms of heroic aspirations. Pindar presents Pelops at the threshold of man­ hood to take a long-term look, indeed, at his personal life and seek the assistance of Poseidon as he prepares to abandon the ambivalent phase of polios and enter the unequivocal phase of cpw;, i.e., of an adventurous man who reaches out for the cpw;, the light of success (8 1 -85):

6 !!EYU£ oE x(vouvo£ UVUAXLV ov qJGnu AU!!�av£L. 8UV€lV 0' OtOLV avayxu, 'ta XE LL£ UVolVU!'OV yligu£ Ev qxO't!Q xu8rj!!€vo£ £ljJOl !!a'tuv, cmav't!QV XUAWV U!!!!ogo£ ; aAA' E!!ol !!Ev � u€8Ao£ UltOX€(onUL "Great risk I does not take hold of a cowardly man. I But since men must die, why should anyone sit I in darkness and coddle a nameless old age to no use, I deprived of all noble deeds? No! I that contest shall be mine I to undertake" (Race).

With his vision oriented towards the distant future, and with a striking narrati­ vization of his associations with both "the near and the far" in connection with heroic values and achievements, the Pindaric Pelops declares his resolution to undertake the present trial (� � nEAa;),327 which corresponds to the immedi­ acy of EtOLIlOV yallov (69). The hero, repulsed by the prospect of dark anonymity in the distant future, capitalizes on the available opportunity, in an effort to avoid failure, darkness, and anonymity, since lack of name is tantamount to death. Here the poet allows Pelops to indulge in an existential evaluation of "name" and "dis­ tance," as measurements of heroic virtue: the worth of present ("near") and future ('far') is gauged in terms of light and reputation. With his usual "amphibolic dex­ ,, terity 328 Pindar envelops the heroic feats of Pelops in a wordplay on cpo)�, OX6to� and avo)vwo� (8 1 -85): heroic status is bathed in the radiance of renown (cpw;-cpw;), thus epitomizing the concept of ideal virtue. In a wordplay, which owes its efficacy partly to the syntactic ambiguity of o u ( o u Aall�aVEL/ou avaAxLv cpwta, litotes for "brave"), the poet states that great danger seizes (or "strikes," Slater 1 969) not the coward, but the brave, heroic cpw;. The coward is not linked with cpw; (light) but with ox6to� (darkness); hence he is anonymous and dead, metaphorically. Ancient scholars record the complementary etymologi­ cal and semantic connections of cpw;/cpw; with cpa{vw, cpwd�w and cpw (= UYW). 329 Unlike (Xv1(J, the generic term for man, the word cpw; in Pindar is a ve327 328

329

See Gerber 1 982: 130 ad 84, "one should strive for what is near at hand (my italics) and capable of fulfilment." For the term and its application in Pindar see Stanford 1 93911972: 129-136. See Or. 1 60. 13, rpw�. 6 uv8go)1to£, 6 !!OVO£ 'ta 'tli£ OLUVO(U£ rpw,{�WV 'tW AOYQ), 11 nUlla to rpliJ 'to A€yw; cf. ib. 160. 12,sv. rpwv�. Ap. Soph. 1 66. 1 (rpwrt:� <rpw,{�w). Reitzenstein 1 76. 102 (rpliJ� <rpa{vw). EGud.