Source: https://chs.harvard.edu/CHS/article/display/6207.ii-4-discourse-memory-the-negotiation-of-shared-knowledge
Timestamp: 2019-04-22 18:16:42+00:00

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§1. In the present chapter I discuss language that refers to the level of interaction not overtly, but through indirect means. This language is not self-referential, but rather marks the relation of the performer to the content in a manner that reveals his expectations about the knowledge of the audience. We are concerned here with the dimension of shared experience, shared knowledge, shared beliefs, and shared discourse.
In the Panhellenic culture of the fifth century these three temporal dimensions are inextricably linked, and therefore always intertwined in Pindaric song.
§4. The present chapter studies the linguistic reflection in Homer and Pindar of engagement with tradition and other kinds of shared knowledge, a phenomenon that has been termed “discourse memory.” I argue that apparently random use of certain particles – γάρ, ἄρα, and τε in particular – can be understood as metalanguage reflecting the performer’s assumptions about a shared body of knowledge. First, I introduce the term “discourse memory” and locate it within the larger framework of this study (4.1). Then I discuss how the Homeric performer monitors the discourse memory, supplementing it with pieces of knowledge introduced by γάρ (4.2.1). In Pindar’s Victory Odes we find a similar use of γάρ, but, beyond introducing information about the storyworld, Pindar uses γάρ to insert gnômai (4.2.2). A special kind of traditional discourse is that of the Homeric simile, of which a linguistic analysis is presented in the third section, with a focus on τε and ἄρα (4.3). The fourth section of the chapter studies recurrent or common event sequences (“typical scenes”) in Homer, in which ἄρα is important again (4.4). In the final section , I present an analysis of τε in Pindar (4.5).
Lord highlights two aspects of memory relevant to the epic performance: knowledge of the narrative sequence on the one hand (the “overall story”), and the crucial elements to every segment of the story on the other. Both of these elements are to a large extent prescribed by tradition, a fact that is not limited to epic. In both lyric and epic, the content and structure of stories is therefore to a certain extent shared by performer and audience.  Besides the narratives within epic and lyric, the genres themselves are traditional too: the performer is aware of the audience’s expectations about both form and content. More generally, in a performance at a certain time and place, there exists a body of shared experiences and beliefs, resulting from a world and a culture shared by performer and audience. Finally, the performer can build upon what was said before within the same performance, the shared discourse: he can assume, rightly or not, that the audience remembers the most important events of the preceding discourse.
§6. This pool of information that constantly serves as a background to the unfolding discourse has been discussed in several forms, but I will follow Berrendonner and Roulet in calling it the discourse memory.  In II.2 I note that Roulet eventually defines the discourse act as every “update to the discourse memory,” building on the work done by Berrendonner.  Cornish, conversely, speaks of “discourse model” rather than “discourse memory,” but he equates his term to Berrendonner’s “mémoire discursive.” In this chapter I follow Berrendonner and Roulet in using the term “discourse memory,” but will also refer to Cornish’s “discourse model,” using the two terms to denote two different things.
§8. For Homeric and Pindaric discourse, the three components of the discourse memory that exert influence on the linguistic formation and subsequent interpretation of any discourse act in Homer and Pindar are (1) the tradition, (2) the shared knowledge of the world, and (3) the preceding discourse. Every discourse act may thus engage in an interaction with the current discourse model as well as with any other relevant information in the discourse memory.
§9. The world evoked in the narrative of epic or lyric is up to a point removed from the here and now, yet the composer constantly counts on his audience’s basic knowledge of the world. The world created to serve as the theater for a narrative has been called a storyworld.  The form of a storyworld is subject to what Ryan calls the “principle of minimal departure,” which states that the storyworld is the same as the “real” world (i.e. the world in which performer and audience live) except for those aspects explicitly mentioned.  So in the storyworld of the Iliad, the Greek heroes are taller and stronger than the men of Archaic Greece, but wood still burns, the sea has tides, the sun goes down and comes up again, and so on. Unless the audience receives an instruction to adapt the image, they will project the world they know onto the storyworld.
§10. The discourse memory covers the entire body of relevant knowledge that the performer assumes to be shared between him and the audience at any particular point in the discourse. This cognitive process is a matter of assumption and prediction, since the performer cannot know exactly to what extent the audience shares his knowledge. For that very reason, it is only of limited relevance to know what knowledge exactly is actually shared between performer and audience at a certain point in time. We may compare the use of “of course” in academic papers to indicate that some piece of information is expected to be shared, even if in practice only part of the audience may actually know it. Expressing such assumptions linguistically may thus be as much a rhetorical device as a reflection of reality. In the following sections I trace different linguistic elements that to my mind reflect these assumptions and predictions on the part of the performer.
§11. As a story progresses, every discourse act is an implicit instruction to update the storyworld. However, narration of the action is not the only way for the performer to develop the discourse model; he can also choose to engage with the discourse memory more explicitly.  At any moment in the narrative the performer may feel the need to explain something, which he cannot always do while staying in the background.  To discuss this phenomenon of narrative discourse in particular, I introduce the concepts of framed and unframed discourse.
The baby was six years old. Having the baby was a definite achievement: getting it safely conceived and born had taken a couple of years.
In addition to the linguistic marking mentioned above, Ancient Greek likewise employs metalinguistic markers at the transitions between framed and unframed discourse. I now turn to the most important of these markers in Homer and Pindar.
§15. The Homeric performer is omniscient, so he can report not only the observable actions of the protagonists, but also their backstories and their thoughts. Moreover, the performer can reflect upon the narrative situation himself, either as a narrating persona or as a performer in the here and now. These steps out of the storyworld into unframed discourse are often introduced by γάρ. They reveal the performance’s nature as an interactive activity,  acting as a sign of the performer assessing the knowledge shared between him and audience, and providing crucial information when needed. In Homeric narrative γάρ has three functions: (1) to introduce information about characters or the storyworld, (2) to blend the perspectives of the performer with that of a character, and (3) to introduce evaluative comments about the ongoing narrative. My contention throughout is that it is unproductive to link γάρ to the idea of background, since from a narrative and discourse perspective the acts and moves introduced by γάρ are important.  They supply information indispensable for the narrative, heighten suspense, and invite audience involvement.
and put it near my comrades; I ordered them to sand it down.
18. .. stárted the same wáy.
20. when Wesleyan was still ... a mén’s school.
There is no clear marking of the beginning of the unframed discourse, but the return to the narrative frame is marked with “so”; Emmott calls this “frame recall.”  The similarity with (t7) and (t8) is striking: as the speaker comes to the pointe of his story, he introduces a crucial piece of information: the presence of the club in (t7), the ram in (t8), and the fact that Wesleyan was still a men’s school in (t9). The speaker then proceeds to tell the rest of the story so that Odysseus has a club to make a weapon, an animal to cling to, and so that the “[g]entlemen” in (t9) makes sense. There may be another motivation behind this strategy: by inserting the information at this point in the narrative, in this form, the climax of the story is briefly postponed. Thus introducing this kind of unframed discourse may serve to build up tension in the unfolding of the framed discourse.
Deïphobus. For he had had a hate for him, ever unceasing.
Fool, he did not know that she [sc. Athena] would not be persuaded.
No, not quickly is the mind turned of the gods who are forever.
Nestor is acting like an internal narrator, and his use of νήπιος clearly shows his non-neutral stance.  Here and in other examples of γάρ τε moves in Homer, the pattern is clear: after the two adjacent particles there is a shift to present tense (or an elided ἐστι),  and this is often accompanied by a form of αἰεί.  Finally, this kind of gnomic unframed discourse typically occurs in direct speech, and is practically limited to the Odyssey.
‘Means, means make the man’ says he who has been left by both possessions and friends.
You see, you are well-versed in song.
but our fortune is distinct.
do not pass over good things.
Pindar advises Hieron not to be too humble, it seems, and supports his advice with reference to a common piece of wisdom.  As in (t8), the γάρ act (and move) interrupts a syntactical whole, and for this reason Hummel calls it a parenthetical construction. She adds: “In this type of structure, the particle serves to signal the change of syntactical and logical level of the utterance” [my italics].  Despite the difference in terminology, Hummel’s assessment resonates with my analysis of γάρ as marking that the speaker is (however briefly) performing a different kind of move. Gnômai introduce knowledge necessary to understand the workings of the world of the discourse.  In Homer this world is generally the storyworld, sometimes extended to include the world at large, while in Pindar the emphasis is more on the latter.
§27. Through an unframed move introduced by γάρ, the performer introduces a piece of information (in the form of a motivation, narrative, gnṓmē, or description) into the discourse model, and thus it becomes part of the discourse memory. Another important factor is that a performer can use γάρ to introduce this different kind of discourse exactly when he means to. By choosing the right moment, the performer manages the knowledge shared between him and the audience, but can also manipulate the flow of the narrative and the performance. Below and in II.5.3.3 I discuss ἄρα in unframed narrative, where the performer assumes that the following information is already part of the discourse memory, but activates it again in the current discourse model. Both ἄρα and γάρ can thus serve to manage the discourse memory.
§28. In order to identify the type of move that γάρ introduces, the tense that follows γάρ offers a cue: (1) when γάρ introduces embedded narratives it is commonly followed by an aorist, (2) when γάρ introduces unframed information about the (story)world it is commonly followed by an imperfect, and (3) when γάρ (τε) introduces an unframed gnṓmē it is followed by a verb in the present tense.  Of course, patterns involving γάρ are tendencies rather than rules, and since the different uses represent aspects of the same particle we must keep in mind that boundaries will be fuzzy. Notwithstanding this fact, an analysis of γάρ in terms of introducing different kinds of unframed discourse reveals that the particle is involved in at least three different constructions.  This discourse-sensitive approach may serve as a step toward explaining γάρ’s multifunctionality across register, genre, and time.
§30. My results are based on a study of the language of the similes listed in the appendix of Scott’s study: 341 in the Iliad and 134 in the Odyssey.  A number of these similes take the form of only a marker of comparison (ὡς, ἠύτε, (ε)ἴκελος, etc.) and a noun phrase, and are therefore too short for the study of particle use in the simile. The corpus that remains is made up of all those instances where the vehicle portion of the simile is expressed with a clause containing at least one finite verb. This kind of construction occurs 215 times in the Iliad (making up 708 lines) and 47 times in the Odyssey (148 lines). Of this group, the tenor is repeated in the majority of cases, 182 times in the Iliad and 38 times in the Odyssey.
just so their battle joined.
405 are bloody, and terrible for the eyes to see.
So Odysseus was bespattered, his feet and his hands above.
Both these similes follow the basic pattern of the Homeric simile: (1) the vehicle is introduced by a marker, here ὡς, as in the large majority; (2) a combination of a relative pronoun and a particle introduces the information in the vehicle relevant to the comparison; (3) cohesion in the first part of the simile is attained by the recurrence of τε;  (4) the simile is rounded off with another marker – here ὥς, which is the rule – in (t15) followed by ἄρα. The particles τε and ἄρα are particularly frequent in similes: τε most typically occurs in the first part of the simile, the vehicle portion, while ἄρα generally occurs at the start of the simile’s resolution, with the re-introduction of the tenor. The first element in the simile, the introductory marker of comparison, varies in form but is always present.  The latter three elements deserve more discussion.
§32. τε is inherently bound to the vehicle portion of the simile, where it occurs on average once every two lines in the Iliad, and once every three lines in the Odyssey.  The high frequency of τε is remarkable, and suggests that it is connected to the simile’s strong dependence on discourse memory. Scholarship has sought to link the value and function of τε, especially when it is not copulative, to the permanent truth of the content of the clause in which it appears.  Rather, the particle should be linked to the interaction between performer and audience: τε marks not a state of the propositional content of its host act, but an assumption by the performer that this piece of knowledge is shared between him and the audience.  In other words, the performer uses τε to mark its host act as accessible in the discourse memory. To be more precise, τε refers either to the “tradition” part of the discourse memory (consider especially its use with names and places) or to the “shared experience” part. In similes, the performer accesses on the one hand shared daily experience (as in shepherd or weather similes), and on the other hand the shared experience of epic: it is unlikely that the audience learned the image of the bloody lion from anywhere other than epic. In the end, this use of τε is a discourse strategy: regardless of whether a piece of information is “permanently true,” the performer presents it as something shared between him and the audience.
The entry of the Greek and Trojan armies on the battlefield is accompanied by a series of similes. The second, given in (t17), is used to describe the advance of the Greeks. The advance of the Trojans has just been compared to that of a flock of twittering birds, noisy and without order, and now the performer turns to the Greeks. They come on in silence, and the dust their feet throw up provides a cover for them as if they were thieves. Since we are in a situation of war rather than peace, the fact that the mist is a nuisance to shepherds suggests the perspective of the Trojans: the Greeks are hidden from their view, just as a mist may hide a flock from shepherds. The image of the thief, in turn, matches the Greeks who benefit from the dust that hides them. The crucial link proposed by the simile is that between the advancing Greeks and the thief taking advantage of the mist, and this is the element introduced by τε.
Here we find a whole simile without τε, the absence of which is especially remarkable in the second half of 324, since this act provides the simile’s key as in the examples above. A closer look at the editions reveals that most manuscripts as well as a third-century papyrus read κακῶς δέ τέ οἱ.  It appears to be mainly the testimony of Aristarchus, transmitted in the scholia, that has led to most editions giving δ᾽ἄρα.  Considering the frequency of τε in the vehicle portion of the simile, the frequent link between τε and the key of the simile, and finally the manuscript evidence, I would propose that δέ τέ οἱ is the more attractive reading.
525 thus Achilles brought toil and grief to the Trojans.
340 thus Odysseus will bring an unseemly fate to them.
In line 523 of (t19), several manuscripts and papyri give τε as a variant reading for ἑ. Editors appear to prefer ἑ as the lectio difficilior, but the statistics for τε in similes support reading τε. The same goes for Odyssey 4.338 in (t20), where a group of manuscripts reads ὁ δέ τ᾽ ὦκα rather than ὁ δ᾽ ἔπειτα.  I cannot establish here what has led editors to prefer the latter reading, but nothing textual or metrical speaks against reading the former. The more common ὁ δ᾽ ἔπειτα might be argued to be the lectio facilior, while at the same time this construction never occurs in a simile.  A further argument for reading ὁ δέ τ᾽ ὦκα is that in Iliad 21.261 we find τὸ δέ τ᾽ ὦκα, in the same metrical position, in a simile describing how the river Scamander overtakes Achilles. From the discourse perspective, in both (t19) and (t20) the acts that have τε in a variant reading introduce the simile’s salient element: the gods who drive on the smoke is compared to Achilles driving on the Trojans, and the lion who enters his lair is compared to Odysseus returning to his palace.
§38. Now let us consider the end of the simile. As mentioned above, the comparison is always capped by a marker, generally ὥς, sometimes followed by ἄρα. The occurrence of ἄρα in the final part of the simile accompanies the return to the narrative frame. Scholars have noted that across languages conclusive particles (e.g. “so” in English (t9), also in German, and igitur in Latin) often serve to pick up or recall the main thread.  ἄρα in the return to the tenor of the simile does precisely that.  This function of ἄρα can also be seen in its occurrence directly after direct speech, as well as after different kinds of unframed discourse.
§39. Earlier scholarship on ἄρα vacillates between two extremes: some scholars view it as marking the upcoming sentence as expected from the preceding,  while others assert that the particle marks the new sentence as something unexpected and noteworthy.  Denniston’s analysis, following Hartung’s position that ἄρα indicates surprise, is still most commonly held to be right. He explains ἄρα as expressing a “lively feeling of interest,” since “[f]or Homer, as for a child, the most ordinary things in daily life are profoundly interesting.” The main reason for Denniston’s choice is that the particle occurs so often in Homer that it is unlikely to confer an idea of connection (as held by other scholars), “except in so far as some kind of connexion must be present in all speech or action.”  Ironically, in his attempt to refute connection as the central value of ἄρα, Denniston may have pointed exactly to how the particle works.
And among them joint strife rose up at the sterns of the ships.
desiring in their heart to defend one another.
In both instances, ἄρα marks the return to the narrative frame, and the projection of the simile’s image on the situation in the storyworld.
§41. ἄρα’s presence is not required after a simile, however: it occurs 30 times in the second half of the simile out of a total 182 in the Iliad, versus 9 times out of 38 in the Odyssey.  When ἄρα is absent, no other particle follows, except for μέν on five occasions.  Since the second half of the simile signals the return to the narrative and thus the beginning of a new move, the occurrence of μέν is not surprising,  nor is the high frequency of asyndeton.
his master across the plain, straining with the chariot.
This little-discussed simile seems, at first glance, to have all the characteristics of a Homeric simile, but it is remarkable in several ways. Rather than illustrating the scene by means of unrelated imagery, the simile retains the image of a horse and chariot in order to establish quite precisely the distance between Antilochus and Menelaus.  The mention of the horse drawing its lord (ἄναξ) through the plain does not remove the image from the current scene, for Menelaus qualifies as an ἄναξ, and the venue for the games is the Trojan plain. Beyond making an analogy, then, the passage is an attempt to more precisely establish the physical position of the characters in the storyworld. From a narrative perspective, moreover, the tension evoked by the image seems to miss its mark since the outcome of the scene has already been reached: Antilochus has beaten Menelaus.
§44. Now, the nature of δή does not exclude its use after the vehicle portion of the simile, but the question remains why it is employed only here. The answer may lie in the key of the simile, which is the distance between two competing chariots. In all other instances of ὅσσος – τόσσος similes,  the comparison is one of approximation, whereas in this case the image is very specific: as closely as a chariot follows the horse – so close that its tail can touch the wheel – exactly as closely behind Antilochus was Menelaus. With scope over the entire act, δή places emphasis on the exactness of the entire act – they were that close. This emphasis serves moreover a narrative purpose, since it vindicates Menelaus’ claim that if Antilochus had not cheated, the former would certainly have beaten Nestor’s son.
§45. The linguistic make-up of the Homeric simile is thus rather uniform, and a good illustration for the relation of τε and ἄρα with discourse memory. The difference between τε and ἄρα may be illustrated by the fact that ἄρα can occur within the first half of the simile, while τε never occurs after the final ὥς in the simile. In Homeric discourse, ἄρα is used especially to mark the assumption that the preceding discourse provides the background for understanding what follows. More restricted than ἄρα, τε is used to introduce pieces of knowledge that the performer treats as shared between him and the audience, on the basis of shared experience and tradition. In his similes, the Homeric performer adduces evocative images to both clarify and intensify particular moments in the narrative. The simile illustrates these functions of τε and ἄρα particularly well, but they are relevant to the interaction between performer and audience in all Homeric discourse.
§46. The discourse memory contains any kind of information: not just facts, descriptions, names, and events, but also experience-based knowledge of event sequences. This latter kind of knowledge is called a scenario or a script.  Scenarios or scripts are packages of associated knowledge about certain activities, such as a sacrifice or an assembly, that are activated as soon as the relevant activity or event is evoked. “[T]he basic structural tenet of scenario theory is that much of the information that we store about the world is stored as situation-specific representations.”  When a scenario becomes relevant, the knowledge shared between performer and audience creates expectations that can either be met or frustrated in the following discourse. As with the storyworld, the natural reaction to the activation of a scenario is to assume that it follows the known path, unless it is stated explicitly that it does not.  In epic, scenarios or scripts are most clearly visible in passages known as type scenes or themes.
That is to say, whereas the formulaic language is part of what the epic singer learns in his craft, the use of themes in composition follows naturally from human experience. I concur with Minchin that a natural connection is to be drawn between the epic phenomenon of typical scene or theme and the cognitive concept of the script. However, the origin of the script need not always lie in common human experience, but may well be the specific epic experience of the performer.
§50. In the following analysis of two recurrent scenes (bathing and arming) I address the question whether typical scenes are instantiations of elements inherent to epic (traditional) or whether they may also be regarded as verbalizations of common scripts (universal). I study the linguistic make-up of the scenes with special attention to particles. The typical scenes of “bathing” and “arming/clothing” demonstrate how the scripts in the performer’s mind project a sequence known to the audience, the fulfillment of which is marked by ἄρα.
Going toward the baths, well-polished, they washed.
around them woolly cloaks they threw, and tunics.
90 Going out of the baths, they sat down on the couches.
The parallels are largely the same, though in some instances the scene is shorter.  As here, the particles that appear most frequently in these scenes are δέ and ἄρα. The frequency of δέ roughly matches its average in narrator text, but the same is not true of ἄρα. Especially in the second part of the scene, the particle recurs consistently. Its presence thus marks the bathing scene as a little narrative (the progression of which is marked by δέ) that happens to be predictable. Washing, clothing, and returning to the public space are details that can always be expected. The underlying script explains why the performer marks the later narrative steps with ἄρα. To put it in different terms, the activation of the “bathing” script projects a sequence of actions, and the fulfilment of this projection is marked with ἄρα.
45 then around his shouldes he put his silver-studded sword.
He took the sceptre of his forefathers, ever imperishable.
The clothing  or arming  scene has numerous parallels, mostly in the Iliad, that all follow the same pattern. As in the bathing scene in (t25), the sequential actions are separated by δέ. Even more than the bathing scene, the linguistic make-up of the clothing scene is indistinguishable from the surrounding narrative.
If we imagine being one of the characters, we may agree with Ruijgh’s claim that “the fact marked by ἄρα is surprising.”  However, the audience of an epic performance knows that the linguistic construction καί νύ κε always projects its opposite.  In other words, the narratively surprising event is rendered in a projected and thus expected discourse act. ἄρα, as often, functions as metalanguage to mark its host act as expected, irrespective of the discourse act’s content.
§54. Out of all archaic and classical Greek authors of whom a significant corpus is extant, Pindar’s songs have the highest frequency of τε, higher even than Homeric epic.  In the great majority of cases, τε in Pindar is copulative. Keeping in mind the strong influence of Homer on Pindaric language and its overall archaic nature, it is surprising that so-called “epic” τε is rare in Pindar. In this section I first discuss these few instances of “epic” τε in terms of activating shared, traditional knowledge in the discourse memory. Second, I examine copulative τε’s range of uses, on the one hand to conjoin constituents and on the other hand to connect phrases or clauses. Then I argue that there is a clear common element in the function of τε across copulative and non-copulative uses. Even in its copulative function, τε signals that a fact or a relationship between facts or constituents is available in the discourse memory. Finally, I take the instances of τε in Olympian 1 as a case study to demonstrate that the choice for τε over καί is not arbitrary.
40 who is said to be the most pious man that the plain of Iolkos has produced.
§56. This complication can be avoided altogether if we consider the two relevant contexts of this utterance. On the one hand Themis makes a claim about Peleus’ piety among the gods, and on the other hand Pindar declares Peleus the most pious man from Iolkos. In the first context, it is the gods who judge who is most pious, which explains why Themis seeks to create intersubjective agreement through the use of τε. In the second context, Pindar appeals to the audience’s knowledge of the story of Peleus, who came to Aegina from Iolkos. The fact of Peleus’ piety may be traditionally accepted or not, but what is important is that the particle marks the fact as shared in nature, and by extension possessing intersubjective truth.
pursuing a sweet lie, the ignorant man.
40 for him as a beautiful bane.
The only explanation Ruijgh offers for this passage is “fait mythique,” “ mythical fact.”  The effectiveness of Ruijgh’s dichotomy between permanent and temporary facts appears to break down here. After all, if a mythical fact is not permanent, then what is? The passage introduced by ἅν τε appears to be the salient element in the mythical narrative about Ixion’s attempt on Hera (announced in lines 26-33).  The reason he was caught is that Zeus tricked him. This is a fact that Pindar takes from tradition, which he conveys with the addition of τε—whether the entire audience actually knows this exact detail or not. To come back to Ruijgh’s definition, it is neither important whether τε marks a fact or not, nor whether this fact is permanent or temporary. All that matters is the social contract of the lyric performance: performer and audience partake in the same world, culture, tradition, and event: τε appeals to and creates exactly this shared knowledge.
§59. To support this claim, let me now turn to copulative τε in Pindar. Hummel distinguishes the following kinds of conjuncts connected by τε (with my numbering):  (1) τε can connect clauses (“sentential τε”); (2) τε can connect phrases; (3) τε can connect “paires idiomatiques”: two items that exist as a pair not only in Pindar, but independently in language;  (4) τε conjoins pairs unique to Pindar; (5) τε conjoins complementary pairs, sometimes in the form of a hendiadys.
In two recent studies, Viti has argued that in Homer copulative τε is used more for natural coordination, and καί more for accidental coordination. For both Homer and Pindar, I believe we may apply the idea of natural coordination even more productively to the use of τε if we bring it in connection with the concept of discourse memory.
In the final lines of Pythian 4, Pindar asks Arkesilas to allow the exiled Damophilos to return to Cyrene, since he has been away “from his fatherland and his possessions.” The two are no natural pair (Hummel lists the passage under complementary pairs) but they presuppose some specific knowledge about the exile, presumably shared between performer and at least a part of the audience.
50 the Greek host to shame with their speed.
§65. In all these cases, it is the knowledge shared between performer and audience that makes two conjuncts a natural pair. From this perspective, the copulative use of τε and so-called “epic” τε are no longer so far apart. Whether τε introduces a relative clause or conjoins two naturally connected items, τε consistently denotes a known relation: either between a referent and something about him or between a number of items, referents, or places.
(a) Tantalos perverts feast by serving up inappropriate food (the flesh of Pelops) to immortals.
(b) Tantalos is punished by the gods.
(a’) Tantalos perverts feast by serving up inappropriate food (nectar and ambrosia) to mortals.
(b’) Tantalos is punished by the gods. (b’2) Pelops is exiled from Olympus to Peloponnesus. (b’3) Pelops calls on Poseidon for help.
(c’) Pelops survives chariot race against Oinomaos. (c’2) Pelops settles Peloponnesus.
Out of Nagy’s nine elements of the story that are expressed in the text, six contain τε (one shared between (c3) and (a’)). These passages account for eight out of thirteen instances of τε in Olympian 1; the other five instances are outside the narrative.
§68. In these narrative acts, τε almost completely supplants καί (one instance in the acts above, out of nine total instances in the ode). Moreover, τε highlights specifically the essential elements of the tradition, a phenomenon that we might compare to the high frequency of τε in the salient parts of a simile. Whether in specific pairs of people, places, items, and ideas or in crucial elements of a traditional narrative, the distribution of τε follows a consistent pattern. It may not always be clear to us what determines the choice of τε over καί, but it cannot be a coincidence that in contexts of shared tradition and shared knowledge τε is preferred.
§69. The language of any discourse is to a large extent determined by what came before, and what comes before a current discourse act reaches far beyond what has been said before: “The meaning of a text is more than the sum of the meanings of the individual sentences that comprise it.”  The reason behind this claim by Schank and Abelson is that every discourse act interacts with the discourse memory to create a fuller meaning, and a fuller representation in the discourse model than the words alone add up to. In this chapter I have described some of the many possible interactions between current discourse and the larger discourse memory, and its marking through metalanguage.
§70. The particle γάρ serves to introduce acts that ensure a shared ground, a shared mental representation of the discourse (discourse model) between the performer and the audience. Engagement with the discourse memory is a question of attitude rather than of fact, so in the case of γάρ it is the performer’s belief that a piece of knowledge is missing from the discourse memory that determines its use. Both in Homer and Pindar γάρ is thus used to introduce information about the storyworld, but also to insert comments on the ongoing discourse. One subset of the latter, gnômai, generally occur in direct speech in Homer, and are introduced by γάρ τε. In Pindar, gnomic acts account for a much larger proportion of the instances of γάρ than in Homer.
§71. In the Homeric simile, interaction between discourse and discourse memory is constant and particularly visible. Whereas γάρ serves to introduce additional information into the discourse memory, ἄρα and τε accompany knowledge already shared. Both particles do this in their own way, and again they are relevant to the performer’s expectations. ἄρα occurs in practically every context in Homeric discourse, and I align with the scholarship that links ἄρα to “expectedness.” Rather than focus on the audience’s perspective, however, I propose that ἄρα reflects the performer’s stance toward his discourse. By uttering ἄρα, the performer metalinguistically marks the current discourse act as either known or naturally expected from what comes before. Since ἄρα works as metalanguage, this value of ἄρα does not necessarily mean that the propositional content of an act is expected, but typically it is.
§72. As emerges from its use in the Homeric simile, τε occurs in more specific contexts. In terms of discourse memory, the difference between ἄρα and τε concerns the part of the discourse memory that is accessed. ἄρα typically – but not exclusively – refers to the current or past discourse, whereas τε refers to the discourse memory beyond the preceding discourse. An analysis of τε in the Homeric simile and Pindar has revealed that τε marks both facts and relations between facts, concepts, places, and people as shared between performer and audience beyond the present discourse. Thus it typically co-occurs with names, places, or actions that are part of the shared experience or tradition. In Homeric epic, this pattern holds for those instances where τε is copulative as well as for those where it is not. In Pindar τε has specialized in its copulative function, but its use still shows clear traces of interaction with the discourse memory.
[ back ] 1. Havelock 1963:88-93 speaks of tradition in terms of a house full of furniture through which the Homeric performer threads a path.
[ back ] 2. See Nagy 1990:128-129, where he argues that the Pelops narrative in Olympian 1 need not have been Pindar’s invention.
[ back ] 5. Roulet 2001:64-65 and Berrendonner 1990, who speaks of the “memoire discursive” or “savoir partagé” [shared knowledge].
[ back ] 6. Roulet 2001:64-65.
[ back ] 7. “Discourse model” was coined by Prince 1981, and is used by Cornish 1999:5, with the following definition: “This model is a coherent representation of the discourse being evoked via the co-text and its context in terms of the speaker’s or writer’s hypothesized intentions.” I employ the term throughout II.5.
[ back ] 10. For this relation between working memory and the discourse model, see Cornish 1999:159, 166.
[ back ] 11. I borrow the term “storyworld” from Herman 2002; see also II.5.1.
[ back ] 12. Ryan 1991:51.
[ back ] 13. Beyond language, extralinguistic and paralinguistic information can also influence the discourse model. When a performer points (or even looks) at something in the direct performance context, this may from then on form part of the discourse model without ever having been expressed verbally (see also II.5 §37). Likewise, an emphasized personal pronoun may imply a contrast with another referent (e.g. “YOU are not like that”), who at that point becomes a part of the discourse model without ever being mentioned.
[ back ] 14. See Richardson 1990:5 and 197-198 on the absence and presence of the narrator in Homeric discourse.
[ back ] 16. Emmott 1997:121-122. Emmott’s point can be linked directly to the observation by the psychologists Winograd and Church (1988:6-7, referred to by Minchin 2008:10), who claim that spatial information can cue the recall of associated material; see also Rothkopf, Fisher, and Billington 1982:126.
[ back ] 17. See Emmott 1997:125-129.
[ back ] 18. The relevance of contextual frames to the linguistic realization of narrative is manifold: see II.2.5 on the link between transitions between contextual frames and the use of priming acts, and II.5 throughout for how the concept of the contextual frame can explain apparent problems of reference.
[ back ] 19. Emmott speaks of “framed text,” but “text” is a problematic term with regard to the Homeric and Pindaric corpora.
[ back ] 20. Emmott 1997:252-258.
[ back ] 22. These are constructed examples for the sake of illustration.
[ back ] 23. See Emmott 1997:239 and 248-252.
[ back ] 25. Such as “now” and “once,” see Emmott 1997:246-250.
[ back ] 26. Compare Barthes 1977:110 about signs of the narrator and of the hearer/reader in the text. When a first-person narrator in a novel says: “Leo was the owner of the joint...” he is not “giving himself information,” so he must be “turning to the reader.” For more on transitions between the storyworld and the realm of the Homeric performance see Richardson 1990:66, Minchin 2001:43, Bakker 2005:114-135, Clay 2011:21, and Tsagalis 2012:19.
[ back ] 27. See II.3 §§25-26 for the recent tendency in scholarship to associate γάρ with the introduction of background information.
[ back ] 28. See II.5 for more on the use of pronouns and particles near transitions between framed and unframed discourse.
[ back ] 29. See De Jong 20042:91-93, who explains this use of γάρ as answering implied questions of the audience, and takes it as a sign that the Iliad is a “récit motivé” in Genette’s terms.
[ back ] 30. The discussion of the possibility that a γάρ clause can give a cause before the clause that contains the result goes back to Aristarchus (see Appendix A §31); the existence of “anticipatory” or “proleptic” γάρ is accepted by Schraut 1849:16, Schraut 1857, Fritsch 1859, Hoffmann 1880, Monro 1882, and Ebeling 1885, and opposed by Döderlein 1858.
[ back ] 31. A similar construction occurs in Herodotus I.126 ἐνθαῦτα ὁ Κῦρος | ἦν γάρ τις χῶρος τῆς Περσικῆς ἀκανθώδης (...) | τοῦτόν σφι τὸν χῶρον; see for this passage Kerschensteiner 1964:40 and IV.3 §108.
[ back ] 32. I take the expression “frame recall” from Emmott 1997:150-157; see §§38-41 below and II.5.3.3 for more on the topic.
[ back ] 33. δὴ γάρ in narrator text: 3 out of 8 instances in the Iliad, 3 out of 9 in the Odyssey.
[ back ] 34. See II.5.3.2 for ὅ γε after unframed discourse.
[ back ] 36. See IV.4 §97 with n. 146 for a similar reading of δή in indirect thought in Herodotus, and IV.4 §113 and §121 on γὰρ δή in Thucydides.
[ back ] 37. Compare the instances of γάρ marking “double focalization” in discourse (i.e. focalized both through the narrator and through a character) discussed by De Jong 20042:111-112. An especially attractive example of possible empathy of the narrator/performer is Odyssey 13.30, about Odysseus: δὴ γάρ μενέαινε νέεσθαι (“he very much wanted to return home”).
[ back ] 38. This kind of blurring also occurs in one of the few instances of γὰρ δή in narrator text: Iliad 12.331-333 τοὺς δὲ ἰδὼν ῥίγησ’ υἱὸς Πετεῶο Μενεσθεύς· / τοῦ γὰρ δὴ πρὸς πύργον ἴσαν κακότητα φέροντες. / πάπτηνεν δ’ ἀνὰ πύργον Ἀχαιῶν εἴ τιν’ ἴδοιτο. The performer explains Menestheus’ shudder (ῥίγησε) by verbalizing the character’s perception of the army approaching his part of the wall. I infer a shift in perspective from the use of δή and the fact that the combination γὰρ δή rarely occurs in narrator text without a temporal marker (only here and in Odyssey 5.276 τὴν γὰρ δή μιν ἄνωγε Καλυψώ, δῖα θεάων).
[ back ] 39. More on the link between δή and the blurring of perspective in narrative in IV.4.5.3-5.
[ back ] 40. Lardinois 2006:216.
[ back ] 41. See Ruijgh 1971:720-721, who speaks of permanent and temporary facts introduced by γάρ τε.
[ back ] 43. Odyssey 1.152 (=21.430) τὰ γάρ τ’ ἀναθήματα δαιτός.
[ back ] 44. Iliad 1.63; Odyssey 1.351, 4.397, 5.78, 7.294, 7.307, 12.105, 14.228, 15.54 (ἥματα πάντα), 20.75, and 20.85. One may also compare the unique ὣς γὰρ θέσφατόν ἐστι, spoken by Zeus in Iliad 8.477.
[ back ] 45. See IV.2 §§55-56 with further examples from Homer and Hesiod.
[ back ] 46. Denniston 1950:528.
[ back ] 47. Consider by way of example Iliad 16.688, right after a nḗpios statement (16.686): ἀλλ᾽ αἰεί τε Διὸς κρείσσων νόος ἠέ περ ἀνδρῶν.
[ back ] 48. γάρ introduces unframed discourse about the storyworld in Pythian 2.38, 4.209, Nemean 10.46, 10.62, 11.34, Isthmian 1.26.
[ back ] 49. ὦν in Pindar occurs only in combination with other particles, which makes it hard to establish its function. Here I have taken it to mark an inference from the extralinguistic context. About γάρ in Pindar, Hummel says that it is without doubt one of the particles with the clearest semantic value (1993:406, “C’est sans doute une des particules les plus claires du point de vue de la valeur sémantique...”). However, instances like (t12) stretch her classification of γάρ as causal or explicative.
[ back ] 50. See II.5.4 for a complete analysis of Isthmian 2, with additional comments on this passage.
[ back ] 52. γάρ further introduces unframed discourse about the real world in Olympian 4.10, 6.25, 7.23, 10.13, 10.50, 11.19, Pythian 5.34, Isthmian 2.30, 4.40, 4.45, 4.49, 6.60, 8.70.
[ back ] 54. The reason is probably that τε is almost always copulative in Pindar (see §§54-68 below), whereas gnômai are expressly separated from the preceding discourse. In this kind of context, a copulative particle would be infelicitous.
[ back ] 55. Hummel 1993:407.
[ back ] 56. Commentators point to the same proverb in Herodotus’ Histories 3.52.2 (φθονέεσθαι κρέσσον ἐστὶ ἢ οἰκτίρεσθαι) and as a saying attributed to Thales by Stobaeus (Seven Sages 10.3.δ17, Diels/Kranz p. 64, φθονοῦ μᾶλλον ἢ οἰκτίρου. The text is an emendation by Diels; Stobaeus has φθόνου χάριν μὴ οἰκτίρου); see Gentili 1995:359.
[ back ] 57. Hummel 1993:407 “Dans ce type de structure, la particule a pour fonction de signaler le changement de niveau syntaxique et logique de l’énoncé” [my italics].
[ back ] 58. γάρ introduces gnômai in Olympian 8.23, 9.28, 9.104, 14.5, 14.8, Pythian 1.41, 1.82, 3.85, 4.263, 4.272, 4.286, 8.73, 10.53, 10.59, 11.29, Nemean 1.32, 1.53, 6.29, 7.12, 7.30, 7.52, 8.17, 9.27, 9.33, 11.45, Isthmian 1.47, 4.30, 4.33, 7.16, 7.42, 8.14.
[ back ] 59. Slings 1997:101; see II.3 §23 for more on the PUSH-POP distinction.
[ back ] 60. It is worth noting that in Pindar ἐπεί can serve this same function, to introduce embedded narratives or gnômai, see e.g. the beginning of an embedded narrative in Olympian 9.29 and a gnṓmē in Olympian 10.88. For the narrative function of ἐπεί-clauses in Homer, see Muchnová 2003, and ancient Greek narrative in general, see Muchnová 2006 and 2009.
[ back ] 62. In a corpus study of γάρ, Luraghi and Celano 2012 found that the particle is frequently followed by tense shift with respect to the immediately preceding clause.
[ back ] 63. This use of γάρ is not limited to early literature; consider a clear example of unframed discourse in the New Testament, Mark 5:42 καὶ εὐθὺς ἀνέστη τὸ κοράσιον καὶ περιεπάτει, ἦν γὰρ ἐτῶν δώδεκα. καὶ ἐξέστησαν [εὐθὺς] ἐκστάσει μεγάλῃ (“And immediately the girl stood up and walked. She was twelve years old. And [at once] they were amazed with great joy”).
[ back ] 64. Influential studies on the Homeric simile include H. Fränkel 1921, Shipp 19722:3-222, Scott 1974, Moulton 1977, Nimis 1987:23-95, Muellner 1990, Martin 1997 (with a discussion of Fränkel, Scott, and Moulton on 142-143), Minchin 2001:132-160, and Ready 2011.
[ back ] 66. I take the term “vehicle portion” from Ready 2011:4-5, with note 10.
[ back ] 68. The language of the simile has been regarded by some scholars as significantly different from the rest of the epics (e.g. Tsagalis 2012:18 on dual coding), but the study of Ingalls 1979 shows at least that similes are no less formulaic than the rest of the narrative. Bakker 2005:114-135 thoroughly studies tense and augment in the simile, while De Jong 20042:93-94 notes the recurrence of τε and present tense.
[ back ] 69. Scott 1974:191-205; De Jong 2001:105 offers slightly different numbers: 346 similes in the Iliad and 136 in the Odyssey. Since she does not offer a list, I have not been able to compare the numbers.
[ back ] 70. As the numbers suggest, the simile has a different place and a different form in the Odyssey than in the Iliad. Not only does the simile occur significantly less in the Odyssey, around two thirds of the total take the simple form (“like X”), while this kind makes up only about one third of the instances in the Iliad. Of the similes of the complex form that do occur, however, the size in the two epics is similar: the vehicle part of the simile has an average of 3.3 lines in the Iliad, next to 3.1 lines in the Odyssey. See Moulton 1977:117-119 and De Jong 2001:105 for other differences and similarities between similes in the Iliad and the Odyssey.
[ back ] 71. As observed by Ruijgh 1971:352-353, 382-383 and De Jong 20042:93-94.
[ back ] 72. In the Iliad, the variants are ὡς, ὥς τε, ὡς ὅτε, ὡς δ᾽ὅτε, ὡς ὁπότε, ὡς εἰ, ὡς εἴ τε, ὥς τε γάρ, ἠύτε, εὖτε, φή, ὅσσος, ὅσσος τε, οἷος, οἷος τε, ἐοικώς, εἴκελος, ἐοικέω, εἴσκω, ἐναλίγκιον, ἶσος, ἅ τε. In the Odyssey, they are: ὥς, ὥς τε, ὡς ὅτε, ὡς δ᾽ὅτε, ὡς εἴ τε, ὥς τε γάρ, ὡς δ᾽ὁπότε, ὥς τίς τε, ὅσσος, ὅσσος τίς τε, ἐοικέω, οἵος περ.
[ back ] 73. This should be compared to the normal frequency of once every 7 or 7,5 lines in both the Iliad and the Odyssey (in both epics it occurs between 13 and 15,5 times per 100 lines, both in direct speech and in narrator text). The numbers in the Iliad are 369 occurrences in 708 lines of simile, and in the Odyssey 53 in 148 lines. For the frequencies, I make no distinction between copulative and non-copulative (“epic”) τε; compare the discussion in IV.2.
[ back ] 74. See IV.2.3, with an overview of literature, and below §§55-57.
[ back ] 75. See IV.2.3.1 for a more elaborate presentation of this argument in Herodotus and Thucydides.
[ back ] 76. See Scott 1974:7-8, with literature, for the discussion about the exact point of comparison in Homeric similes.
[ back ] 77. Cf. Bakker 2005:149 on ὅν τε in line 2 of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo: “The relative clause gives the specific respect under which the god is evoked” [my italics]. Relative clauses in similes work much the same way.
[ back ] 78. I would like to thank Philippe Rousseau for helping me refine my thoughts regarding τε clauses in the first part of the simile.
[ back ] 79. For some discussion of this interesting simile see Lohmann 1970:240; Ready 2011:140-145 solves the apparent mismatch between the tenor and the vehicle by demonstrating that invoking the selfless efforts of the mother bird directs attention toward the similar plight of the warrior who has to give up all the spoils of battle.
[ back ] 80. Quite frequently, as here, the simile’s tenor is resumed with a priming act.
[ back ] 81. See West 1999:I.266 for the few manuscripts that read δ᾽ ἄρα; the papyrus is P. Oxy. 4.765.
[ back ] 82. See II.5.3.3 for a discussion of δ᾽ἄρα: δ᾽ἄρα typically introduces framed acts that are either fully accessible in the discourse memory or expected; this passage does not easily match either option. This is not in itself enough to dismiss the reading δ᾽ἄρα, however.
[ back ] 83. Discussed, with literature, in Ready 2011:47.
[ back ] 84. The simile is repeated in Odyssey 17, and for line 17.129 the same two variant readings are found in the manuscripts.
[ back ] 85. Iliad 6.240, 15.430, 20.342, 23.569, 23.613; Odyssey 2.406, 3.30, 3.437, 5.193, 7.38, 8.262, 9.480, 9.526, 14.490.
[ back ] 86. Moreover, it may be relevant to the link that Martin 1997:153-166 draws between the language of the Homeric simile and the language of lyric. As noted in III.2 §§39-49, τε is especially frequent in tragic lyric, and only in Pindar is the particle more frequent than in Homer. If Martin is right in suggesting that similes were lyric in origin, the high frequency of τε in both corpora may be another relevant correlation.
[ back ] 88. This may be further explored in combination with the possible demonstrative origin of τε, on which see the discussion in IV.2 §52 and Bakker 2005:148-149.
[ back ] 89. See Schraut 1857:29-30 for ἄρα, οὖν, νύ, and ὦν in Greek, also in German, and igitur in Latin; Polanyi and Scha 1983:265 for “so” in English; Sicking 1993:25-27, Slings 1997:101, and Wakker 2009:69-70 for οὖν in Greek. In Homer, one of the particles used to mark frame recall is ἄρα, see II.5.3.3.
[ back ] 90. Before Schraut 1857:29-30, Nägelsbach 1834:193-196 notes and discusses the use of ἄρα in recaps; Haacke 1857:3-12 in fact lists it as the first of three functions of ἄρα.
[ back ] 91. Ellendt 1835:85-87, Rost 1836:1011, Stephens 1837:11-12 and 101-112, Klotz 1842:160-195, Matthiä 1845:1-3, Schraut 1849:12-17, Classen 1854:21, Heller 1858, Bäumlein 1861: 19-39, Rhode 1867:iii-xxxiv, Brugmann 1883:36-70, Humbert 19603:380-383, and Grimm 1962.
[ back ] 92. Hartung 1832:419-427, Denniston 1950:32-43, Ruijgh 1971:432-443, and Wakker 1994:213 and 343.
[ back ] 93. All the quotes are from Denniston 1950:33; this is one of the few non-explanations in Denniston’s seminal work. However, relatively recent works still refer to the description “expressing a feeling of lively interest,” e.g. De Jong 20042 when discussing ἄρα used in negative statements by the Homeric narrator.
[ back ] 94. See also Bäumlein 1861:31 “wir begegnen (...) vielen Stellen, in welchen ἄρα ausdrückt (...), dass etwas natürlich und nach dem Vorhergehenden zu erwarten ist” [my italics].
[ back ] 95. This gives 16.5 instances per 100 lines in the Iliad and 23.7 in the Odyssey, versus a normal frequency of 10,7 per 100 lines of narrator text in the Iliad and 11.9 per 100 lines of narrator text in the Odyssey. Given the small size of the data, however, these differences may be the result of chance.
[ back ] 96. Iliad 12.436, 15.413, 17.740; Odyssey 10.487, 23.162.
[ back ] 97. See the discussion of μέν in terms of projection in II.2.4.
[ back ] 99. See II.3.3.2 for a discussion of the intensifying function of δή.
[ back ] 100. A small scope for δή is easier to exclude than to confirm, when the following word (group) clearly cannot be intensified. The Odyssey example allows both a reading of small and act scope. In Iliad 23.522 it is clear that δή cannot intensify Μενέλαος (“*very Menelaus”). In this kind of construction, καί would have been used: καὶ Μενέλαος, “Menelaus in particular”.
[ back ] 101. See IV.4.5-6 for δή in Herodotus and Thucydides.
[ back ] 102. They are the following, listed by the line number containing the form of τόσσος: Iliad 2.472 (a swarm of flies - the Greek army), 5.772 (a man’s range of sight - the jump of a divine horse), 8.560 (stars - campfires), 14.150 (the cry of 10,000 warriors - Poseidon’s cry), 14.400 (wind - the cry of the Trojans), 16.592 (the throw of a javelin - the retreat of the Trojans), 17.23 (the pride of a lion - the pride of Euphorbus), 17.266 (the roar of the sea against a river - the cry of the onrushing Trojans), 23.433 (the throw of a discus - the run of Antilochus’ chariot), 23.847 (the throw of a shepherd’s crook - the throw of the iron ingot), 24.319 (the width of a rich man’s door - the wingspan of an eagle); Odyssey 4.793 (the fear of a lion among men - Penelope’s fear), 5.251 (the width of a freight ship - the width of Odysseus’ raft), 8.125 (the range of a mule - Clytoneüs’ lead), 9.324 (a ship’s mast - the Cyclops’ club).
[ back ] 103. Sanford and Garrod 1998 speak of scenarios, Schank and Abelson 1977 speak of scripts.
[ back ] 104. Sanford and Emmott 2012:24, emphasis original.
[ back ] 105. This section builds especially on the work done by Minchin 1992, 2001, and 2007.
[ back ] 107. Arend 1933, especially 22-27.
[ back ] 108. Parry 1936, reprinted in 1971:404-407.
[ back ] 109. Lord 1951:80, he defines theme on page 73: “a recurrent element of narration or description”; more on theme in Lord 1960:68-98.
[ back ] 111. Minchin 2001:40.
[ back ] 113. Minchin 2001:39.
[ back ] 114. Odyssey 3.464-469, 4.48-51, 8.454-456, 10.361-365, 23.153-155, 24.365-370.
[ back ] 115. The Homeric clothing scenes are Iliad 2.42-46, 10.21-24, 10.131-134; Odyssey 2.2-4, 4.303-305, 20.124-127.
[ back ] 116. In the arming scenes of Iliad 3.328-338, 16.130-139, 11.16-43, and 19.364-391 use of δέ is even more consistent.
[ back ] 117. The description of ἄρα by Schraut 1849:14 resonates particularly strongly with this idea: “Through ἄρα the sentence (...) is connected to the memories, the images, and the feelings that fill the soul of both the listener and the speaker” (“durch ἄρα [wird] der Satz (...) mit den Erinnerungen, den Bildern, den Gefühlen, die des Zuhörers wie des Sprechenden Seele füllen, verknüpft”).
[ back ] 119. See Ruijgh 1971:185-186 on καί νύ κε and De Jong 20042:68-81 on what she calls “if not-situations”; the parallels of καί νύ κε followed by εἰ μή are Iliad 3.373, 5.311, 5.388, 7.273, 8.90, 8.131, 11.311, 11.750, 17.530, 18.165, 18.454, 23.382, 23.490, 23.733, 24.713; Odyssey 4.363, 4.502, 24.528.
[ back ] 120. There are 526 instances of τε in the Victory Odes (2.37% of words), and 4090 in the Iliad and the Odyssey (2.01%).
[ back ] 122. Give or take a few instances, depending on how one chooses to read the different instances of ἅτε: as ἅτε or ἅ τε; see also Ruijgh 1971:983-984.
[ back ] 123. Ruijgh 1971:984-987 finds eighteen in the odes, but I do not include Pythian 11.59 and Isthmian 2.23.
[ back ] 124. φάτις is Bothe’s emendation, the manuscripts read φασιν (unmetrical); Bergk proposes φράσι and changes τράφειν to τράφει.
[ back ] 125. Ruijgh 1971:985, “Il est vrai que la relative mentionne un mortel, mais d’autre part, elle signale la renommée permanente du héros” (“It is true that the relative mentions a mortal, but on the other hand it signals the fame of the hero”).
[ back ] 126. Ruijgh 1971:986.
[ back ] 127. For further instances of τε introducing the salient element of a shared image or narrative, see §§32-37 above on τε in similes and §§66-68 below on Olympian 1.
[ back ] 128. Ruijgh 1971:351 gives 831 instances of “epic” τε, out of a total of 4090 instances of τε in Homer (20.3%): for Pindar Ruijgh gives 18 out of 528 (3.4%).
[ back ] 129. See Ruijgh 1971:5.
[ back ] 130. See IV.2.3 for the argument that the so-called “connective” and “adverbial” functions of τε should be regarded as two ends of a continuum, rather than mutually exclusive. The material discussed there is mainly from Herodotus and Thucydides.
[ back ] 131. Hummel 1993:390-393.
[ back ] 133. Viti 2006 and Viti 2008, with reference to Gonda 1954.
[ back ] 134. See IV.2.3.1 for the idea that “natural” is better regarded as “culturally shared,” with a study of relevant instances of τε in Herodotus and Thucydides.
[ back ] 135. See Nagy 1990:121-122 on athletic games as mock combat.
[ back ] 137. I do not see why in this case Hummel does not speak of a “paire idiomatique.” Compare especially Olympian 2.10 πλοῦτον τε καὶ χάριν, Olympian 9.65-66 μορφᾷ τε καὶ ἔργοισι, Pythian 8.3 βουλᾶν τε καί πολέμων, Pythian 8.3 ἔρξαι τε καὶ παθεῖν, Pythian 10.24 τόλμᾳ τε καὶ σθένει, Pythian 11.45 εὐφροσύνα τε καὶ δόξα, Nemean 1.57 λῆμα τε καὶ δύναμιν, Nemean 5.9 εὔανδρον τε καὶ ναυσικλυτάν, Isthmian 1.42 δαπάναις τε καὶ πόνοις.
[ back ] 138. Olympian 10.62 ποσίν τε καὶ ἄρματι, Pythian 4.195 νύκτας τε καί πόντου κελεύθους, Pythian 8.31 λύρᾳ τε καὶ φθέγματι μαλθακῷ, Isthmian 6.62 ἄγλαοὶ παῖδές τε καὶ μάτρως.
[ back ] 139. See IV.2 §70 for τε καί linking such pairs in Herodotus and Thucydides, as well in combinations of geographical locations and names of people. Olympian 1.18 Πίσας τε καὶ Φερενίκου, Olympian 2.78 Πηλεύς τε καὶ Κάδμος, Pythian 10.4 Πυθώ τε καὶ τὸ Πελινναῖον, Nemean 3.50 Ἄρτεμίς τε καὶ θρασεῖ᾽ Ἀθάνα, Nemean 4.46 Οἰώνᾳ τε καὶ Κύπρῳ, Nemean 4.75 Οὐλυμπίᾳ τε καὶ Ἰσθμοῖ, Isthmian 9.2 Ὕλλου τε καὶ Αἰγιμιοῦ.
[ back ] 140. E.g. Isthmian 2.23, see II.5 §70.
[ back ] 141. 143 out of 526 instances.
[ back ] 142. For the natural pair of Olympia and Pytho, compare Olympian 7.10 Ὀλυμπίᾳ Πυθοῖ τε νικώντεσσιν, Pythian 9.101-103 ἐν Ὀλυμπίοισί τε καὶ βαθυκόλπου Γᾶς ἀέθλοις ἔν τε καὶ πᾶσιν ἐπιχωρίοις, and Isthmian 1.65 ἔτι καὶ Πυθῶθεν Ὀλυμπιάδων τ’; compare also τε used with other venues for games: Olympian 2.49-50 Πυθῶνι δ’ ὁμόκλαρον ἐς ἀδελφεόν / Ἰσθμοῖ τε κοιναὶ Χάριτες, Olympian 7.81-82 κλεινᾷ τ’ ἐν Ἰσθμῷ τετράκις εὐτυχέων, Νεμέᾳ τ’ ἄλλαν ἐπ’ ἄλλᾳ, Olympian 12.17-18 νῦν δ’ Ὀλυμπίᾳ στεφανωσάμενος / καὶ δὶς ἐκ Πυθῶνος Ἰσθμοῖ τ’, Olympian 13.34-37 Νέμεά τ’ οὐκ ἀντιξοεῖ· / πατρὸς δὲ Θεσσαλοῖ’ ἐπ’ Ἀλφεοῦ / ῥεέθροισιν αἴγλα ποδῶν ἀνάκειται, / Πυθοῖ τ’, Olympian 13.98 Ἰσθμοῖ τά τ’ ἐν Νεμέᾳ, Pythian 8.36-37 Οὐλυμπίᾳ τε Θεόγνητον οὐ κατελέγχεις, / οὐδὲ Κλειτομάχοιο νίκαν Ἰσθμοῖ θρασύγυιον· Pythian 11.9-12 Πυθῶνά τε (...) ἀγῶνί τε Κίρρας, Nemean 2.9 θαμὰ μὲν Ἰσθμιάδων δρέπεσθαι κάλλιστον ἄωτον ἐν Πυθίοισί τε νικᾶν, Nemean 4.75 Οὐλυμπίᾳ τε καὶ Ἰσθμοῖ Νεμέᾳ τε συνθέμενος, Isthmian 8.4-5 Ἰσθμιάδος τε νίκας ἄποινα, καὶ Νεμέᾳ / ἀέθλων.
[ back ] 143. Olympian 2.82-83 Κύκνον τε θανάτῳ πόρεν, / Ἀοῦς τε παῖδ’ Αἰθίοπα, Olympian 7.74 εἷς μὲν Κάμιρον / πρεσβύτατόν τε Ἰάλυσον ἔτεκεν Λίνδον τ’, Olympian 9.43 Πύρρα Δευκαλίων τε, Olympian 9.69-70 υἱὸν δ’ Ἄκτορος ἐξόχως τίμασεν ἐποίκων / Αἰγίνας τε, Olympian 13.42 Τερψίᾳ θ’ ἕψοντ’ Ἐριτίμῳ τ’, Olympian 14.13-15 <ὦ> πότνι’ Ἀγλαΐα / φιλησίμολπέ τ’ Εὐφροσύνα, θεῶν κρατίστου / παῖδες, ἐπακοοῖτε νῦν, Θαλία τε, Pythian 4.182 Ζήταν Κάλαΐν τε, Pythian 5.71-72 Ἡρακλέος / ἐκγόνους Αἰγιμιοῦ τε, Nemean 5.25-26 Θέτιν / Πηλέα θ’, Nemean 8.6 οἷοι καὶ Διὸς Αἰγίνας τε λέκτρον ποιμένες ἀμφεπόλησαν, Nemean 10.11 Ζεὺς ἐπ’ Ἀλκμήναν Δανάαν τε μολὼν, Nemean 10.39-40 ἐὼν Θρασύκλου / Ἀντία τε σύγγονος, Nemean 10.84 σύν τ’ Ἀθαναίᾳ κελαινεγχεῖ τ’ Ἄρει, Isthmian 5.33 Κάστορος δ’ αἰχμὰ Πολυδεύκεός τ’, Isthmian 6.57-58 ταμίας / Πυθέᾳ τε κώμων Εὐθυμένει τε·, Isthmian 8.54-55 Μέμνονός τε βίαν / ὑπέρθυμον Ἕκτορά τ’.
[ back ] 144. See Nagy 1990:126-128.
[ back ] 145. See Burkert 1972:108-119 and Nagy 1990:123-125, both referring to Philostratus, On Gymnastics 5-6.
[ back ] 147. Bergk proposes to read this τε as Doric for σε, but since this form is not attested in Pindar or Bacchylides, I follow Gerber 1982:84 and Hummel 1993:399 in reading the particle.
[ back ] 148. Schank and Abelson 1977:22.

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