Ancient Greek Literary Letters

Selections in Translation

Patricia A. Rosenmeyer

• Editore: Routledge
• Anno: 2006
• ISBN:
  9781134451043
• Edizione: 1
• Argomento: Histoire
• Categoria: Histoire antique

The first referenece to letter writing occurs in the first text of western literature, Homer's Iliad. From the very beginning, Greeks were enthusiastic letter writers, and letter writing became a distinct literary genre. Letters were included in the works of historians but they also formed the basis of works of fiction, and the formal substructure for many kinds of poem.

Patricia Rosenmeyer, an authority on the history of the Greek letter, assembles in this book a representative selection of such 'literary letters', from Aelian and Alciphron to Philostrartus and the supposed letters of Themistocles.

The book will be valuable for all students of Greek literature especially those studying Greek (and Latin) letter.

1
CLASSICAL GREEK LITERARY LETTERS

INTRODUCTION

This section of the anthology includes epistolary passages embedded in classical tragedy and history. In the fifth and early fourth centuries BCE, references to letters and the written word begin to crop up more frequently in literature, especially in the pages of historians and in performance on the Athenian stage. Aeschylus (Prometheus Bound 460–1) praised writing in general as a benefit to mankind and a mark of advanced civilization, while Euripides (Palamedes 578 Nauck) extolled the usefulness specifically of letters in keeping people informed about the affairs of friends and relatives abroad. Cratinus, an older contemporary of Aristophanes, included in one of his comedies a scene in which a letter was read out loud: at one point, an unidentified character says “now listen to this letter!” (Kassel and Austin 1983: 316). The historians Herodotus, Thucydides, and Xenophon focused on the power of written messages to communicate across enemy lines, as commanders sought ever more secure ways to send military secrets. While most of the passages below are fairly brief, they highlight themes that will recur in later post-classical epistolary narratives, namely urgent appeals for assistance in times of crisis, mistaken deliveries to the wrong addressee, dangerous misreadings, and scribbled confessions of secret passions.

Euripides (ca. 485–406 BCE) gave the letter serious attention in at least three of his plays, selections from which appear below. He used letters as one technique of many with which he could enliven the traditional narrative form of a tragic play. The letter itself was a visual prop that could vary the pacing of a scene, identify a courier by its seal, or deceive its recipient with a false message; when read out loud on stage, the contents of the letter could replace a stock messenger’s speech, imparting information to the audience about actions that could not otherwise easily be revealed. Like a camera zooming in for a close-up in the cinema, a letter could collapse the physical distance of the audience from the stage, as viewers were invited to read over the shoulder of the actor in a brief moment of epistolary intimacy.

In the first selection, from Iphigenia in Tauris (lines 727–87), Iphigenia has been living in exile for many years among the Taurians, hoping someday to return to her family in Argos. In the meantime, her duty as priestess of a local cult demands that she arrange for human sacrifices to satisfy Artemis. Two strangers—Orestes and Pylades—appear on her shores, and she decides to sacrifice one but spare the other to act as a messenger. As this scene begins, Iphigenia is about to hand over a letter addressed to her brother Orestes in Argos, and she expresses her anxiety about the reliability of her chosen messenger. She asks Pylades to swear an oath that he will complete the task, but Pylades wonders aloud what will happen if the letter is accidentally lost along the way. In response, Iphigenia recites its contents out loud, so that he can deliver the message with or without the actual tablet in his hands. Iphigenia herself is illiterate, and had previously dictated the letter to a slave. But she has long since memorized its contents, and views the letter as a kind of magic talisman, her only chance for communication with the civilized world she once knew. Euripides cleverly creates the opportunity for Iphigenia to recite the letter on stage; its contents, once made public, both remind the audience of Iphigenia’s experiences after her apparent murder at Aulis, and also allow Orestes to recognize his long-lost sister. Her faith in the power of a letter is justified, and Pylades, far from having to worry about a long and dangerous sea voyage with the tablets in his possession, simply turns to his companion and places them in Orestes’ hands. The scene ends with an emotional reunion, and the three successfully flee Tauris.

In Iphigenia in Aulis (lines 34–123), which was composed later than the previous play but covers an earlier part of the heroine’s story, the Greek fleet is becalmed at the port of Aulis on its way to fight in Troy. The Greek leader Agamemnon is desperate to appease Artemis, who has stopped the favorable winds from blowing. When the Greeks consult their oracles, they are told to sacrifice Agamemnon’s daughter Iphigenia or give up all hope of sailing to Troy. Confronted with an impossible situation, Agamemnon is forced to comply with the divinity’s cruel request. Before this scene opens, he has written a letter inviting his wife and daughter to Aulis on the pretext of marrying Iphigenia to Achilles, but in reality intending to obey the oracle and kill her. In the passage below, as he seals and unseals a letter by lamplight, he admits to a trusted slave that he has made a terrible mistake, and has decided to write a new letter warning them not to come. He reads its contents out loud and urges his messenger to hurry, but his good intentions come too late; the revised message will be intercepted by Odysseus, and Clytemnestra and Iphigenia, obeying the first letter’s instructions, have already landed on the shores of Aulis. The play ends with the apparent sacrifice of Iphigenia, although the ancient audience would certainly have known the alternative ending that Euripides had already staged in his Iphigenia in Tauris.

The final selection below is probably the most famous epistolary scene in Euripidean tragedy: the confrontation between Theseus and his dead wife Phaedra in Hippolytus (lines 856–80), which has already been discussed at some length. Here the author plays with and eventually disappoints our expectation that Theseus will read Phaedra’s letter out loud on stage so that we, too, can learn its contents. Euripides first postpones the reading, teasing us as Theseus tries to imagine his wife’s last words, and the tension mounts as we suspect the worst. In the end, Theseus is so horrified at the evil words within that he cannot bear to repeat what the tablet “screams out,” namely her (false) accusation of rape at the hands of his son, Hippolytus. In this case, the letter remains a visual prop, its contents undisclosed, and our curiosity thus unsatisfied on one level. But we know the power of the deceitful message is enough for Theseus to condemn his son to a horrible death. Theseus privileges his dead wife’s text over Hippolytus’ spoken denials, but will be forgiven for his error on his son’s deathbed.

Two passages from the fifth-century historian Herodotus follow. The first (3.40–3) claims to be a friendly letter of advice from Amasis, the pro-Greek pharaoh of Egypt in the latter part of the sixth century BCE, to Polycrates, the tyrant of Samos. This letter, it turns out, is what inspires Polycrates to throw away his famous emerald seal ring, which then re-emerges as a bad omen in the stomach of a fish served to him at dinner. Upon learning this, Amasis cuts off all correspondence, refusing to sustain friendly relations with a man so clearly destined to come to a bad end. The second passage (7.239) describes an elaborate method of sending a message in wartime: instead of writing on top of the thin wax coating of a wooden tablet, which allowed for constant melting and re-use, the exiled Spartan king Damaratus scraped all the wax off, wrote his message on the bare wood, and re-covered the tablet with a layer of smooth wax. This trick works almost too well: the Spartans who receive it are at first thoroughly confused. But eventually Gorgo, the wife of the Spartan leader Leonidas, sees through the ruse and suggests looking underneath the wax. Herodotus elsewhere in his History delights in narrating ever more complicated methods of keeping letters safe en route. One officer sews a letter in the belly of a hare and dresses his messenger up as a hunter (1.123). Another shaves the head of a slave, tattoos letters onto his skin, and waits until the hair grows back before sending the man out (5.35); the recipient merely has to shave the slave’s head in order to read this “human” letter.

While we are not told how Herodotus came by Amasis’ letter, which he quotes directly, Thucydides (ca. 460–400 BCE) is more cautious about the documentary nature of his epistolary sources. In an early section in his history (1.128–32), Thucydides records a letter exchange between the Persian king Xerxes and the Spartan general Pausanias, introducing it with the tag “as it became known later.” This lets us know that Thucydides is using reputable sources, perhaps even consulting archives, and not freely inventing what might have been a likely scenario between the two historical figures, as Herodotus may have done above (based on “how they say it happened”). Although we are given just one set of letters, we are told that Xerxes and Pausanias continue to correspond over time, using a go-between for the sake of security, since Pausanias plans to betray Greece to the Persians. Finally Pausanias is caught by one of his own messengers, who opens the letter he is carrying and discovers doubly damning evidence: Pausanias’ treason, and a postscript directing the reader to kill the bearer of the message upon his arrival in the Persian court, in an attempt to avoid the possibility of information leaking back to the Greeks.

The Persians reappear as letter writers in the final epistolary selection from the classical historians: a passage from Xenophon’s narrative of Cyrus’ upbringing, the Education of Cyrus (4.5.26–34). Xenophon’s letter is true to formal epistolary conventions of opening and closing salutation (“Cyrus to Cyaxares, greetings” . . . “Farewell”). As with the two dramatic scenes in Euripides, we witness the sender reading his letter aloud to the messenger so that he can “understand and confirm the contents” if he is questioned. The contents of Cyrus’ letters reflect both the friendly type of advice letter encountered above in Herodotus, and the military negotiations exemplified by Thucydides’ exchanges between allies.

The epistolary passages introduced in this first chapter are all embedded in non-epistolary narratives; we will see later in the Hellenistic and imperial periods how letters can emerge from their frames and stand independently. These classical letters contain elements of danger, treachery, and secret love, all of which appeared in Homer’s reference to Bellerophon’s “letter,” and will reappear in many subsequent examples. With the exception of Phaedra’s deceitful letter, all the passages from the classical period demonstrate the primary function of a letter, which is to convey information from one person in one place to another person in another place. But Phaedra’s letter is an example of how else a letter can be used, namely by those who prefer not to speak directly to their audience, whether because they wish to conceal the fact that they are lying, or because they know that what they have to say will be more believable if it is in writing. Thus Phaedra’s letter emphasizes the rhetorical nature of the epistolary form itself. Euripides’ acknowledgment of the rhetorical power intrinsic in letter writing is an important milestone in Greek literary history.

CLASSICAL GREEK LITERARY LETTERS: THE TEXTS

Euripides

“Iphigenia in Tauris” 727–36, 753–87

IPHIGENIA Here are the tablets, strangers, folded and written on many sides.

But there’s something else I want.

People act differently when they face trouble; they lose courage and become fearful.

I’m afraid that the person carrying my letter to Argos will ignore my instructions after he leaves this land.

ORESTES What do you want then? What can I say to convince you that you don’t need to worry?

IPH. Let him promise me that he’ll carry this letter to Argos, to my family . . .

PYLADES But wait, here’s a problem we’ve overlooked.

IPH. Let’s all hear it, if it’s really important.

PYL. Allow me this loophole: if something happens to the ship, and the letter, along with the cargo, disappears in the waves, and I manage to save only myself, then the oath should no longer be binding.

IPH. Well then, here’s what I propose, since precautions are wise.

I’ll tell you everything that’s written in the folds of the letter, so you can report it to my family.

Then all will be safe. If you save the tablet, it will communicate in silence what’s written on it.

But if this tablet is lost at sea, by saving yourself, you’ll save my message.

PYL. I like your idea; it works for both of us.

So tell me who should receive this letter in Argos, and what message I should pass on from you.

IPH. Take this message to Orestes, Agamemnon’s son . . .

PYL. Oh my gods!

IPH. Why are you calling on the gods as I speak?

PYL. It’s nothing, go on. I was thinking of something else.

IPH. Orestes (I’m repeating the name so you won’t forget it). “These are the words of Iphigenia, who was sacrificed at Aulis but is still alive, even though there they think she’s dead . . .”

OR. Where is she? Has she come back from the dead?

IPH. She’s right in front of your eyes; stop interrupting me! “Bring me back to Argos, brother, before you die, and take me away from this barbarian land, away from the goddess’ awful sacrifices, where my duty is to kill foreigners . . .”

OR. Pylades, what should I say? Where on earth are we?

IPH. “or I’ll become a curse upon your house.”

Orestes might question you and doubt your story.

So tell him that the goddess Artemis saved me, exchanging me for a deer, and that’s what my father sacrificed, thinking he was stabbing his sharp sword into my body.

She’s the one who brought me to this country. This is my message, and this is what’s written on the tablets.

“Iphigenia in Aulis” 34–42, 89–91, 97–123

OLD MAN . . . but you’ve lit the lamp and are writing a letter, the one you have in your hand.

You erase the words you’ve already written, seal it and then unseal it again, and then you throw the wooden tablet on the ground, weeping warm tears; in your confusion, you almost seem to have gone mad.

What’s bothering you? What disaster has struck, my king?

AGAMEMNON . . . Calchas the prophet predicted that I would have to sacrifice Iphigenia to Artemis . . .

Then my brother, using all sorts of arguments, persuaded me to dare the worst. I wrote in the folds of a tablet and sent it to my wife, telling her that she should send our daughter here to marry Achilles . . .

That’s how I convinced her, by inventing a lie about the girl’s wedding . . .

That was a bad decision, and I’m changing my mind for the better now in this letter, the one you saw me unsealing and sealing again tonight, old man.

So come and take this letter to Argos.

I’m going to tell you all that’s written in the folds of this tablet, since you are loyal to my wife and my whole household.

OLD MAN Yes, tell me, explain it to me, so that my words will agree with your writing.

AGAM. “I’m sending you another letter, Clytemnestra, daughter of Leda, ordering you not to send our daughter Iphigenia to Aulis, its bay protected from waves and jutting out toward Euboea.

We will plan the wedding party for our child some other time.”

“Hippolytus” 856–65, 874–80

THESEUS Look, what’s this, a tablet hanging from her own dear hand?

Does it want to tell me some news?

Maybe my poor wife wrote me a message, a last request about our marriage and our children?

Don’t worry, poor thing. No other woman will come into Theseus’ home or his bed.

Now the image of her gold-carved seal ring smiles up at me, the property of a dead woman.

I’ll open the sealed cover and see what this tablet wants to tell me . . .

Oh no, another evil on top of this evil, I can’t bear it, can’t speak of it. Wretched me!

CHORUS What? Tell me, if you can.

THESEUS The tablet screams out, screams horrible things.

Where can I go to escape this weight of evils?

I’m completely destroyed by this song, such a song I’ve seen, wretched me, calling out in the writing.

Herodotus

3.40–3

Now Amasis noticed Polycrates’ amazing good fortune, and was very concerned. When his fortune grew even greater, Amasis wrote a letter and sent it to Samos:

Amasis writes to Polycrates as follows. It’s wonderful to hear that a good friend and ally is doing well. But actually your great good fortune doesn’t please me, because I know how jealous the gods can be. What I want for myself and my friends is a blend of good and bad fortune, a life spent sometimes succeeding and at other times failing, rather than doing well in everything. Because I’ve never heard of any man who did well all his life and then at the end didn’t finish up horribly destroyed. So, if you trust my advice, do this to counteract your successes: think about what possession you value most, the one it would hurt the most to lose, and then throw it away so that no one will ever see it again. If from then on your successes are tempered by calamities, make sure you deal with it in the way I suggested.

Polycrates read the letter and realized that Amasis’ advice was good, so he started looking through his treasures for one that it would break his heart to lose, and after searching for a while he found it: the seal ring he wore, with an emerald jewel set in gold, the work of Theodorus, son of Telecles, from Samos. He decided to ...

Indice dei contenuti

• COVER PAGE
• TITLE PAGE
• COPYRIGHT PAGE
• ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
• INTRODUCTION
• 1: CLASSICAL GREEK LITERARY LETTERS
• 2: HELLENISTIC LITERARY LETTERS
• 3: LETTERS AND PROSE FICTIONS OF THE SECOND SOPHISTIC
• 4: THE EPISTOLARY NOVELLA
• 5: PSEUDO-HISTORICAL LETTER COLLECTIONS OF THE SECOND SOPHISTIC
• 6: INVENTED CORRESPONDENCES, IMAGINARY VOICES
• BIBLIOGRAPHY