Notes on the Νεφέλαι of Aristophanes These notes are intended principally for readers with a good knowledge of Attic Greek who wish to learn why I have translated Aristophanes’ text as I have. The received text is examined in some detail, though not exhaustively. Many manuscript variants are only evidence of poor lighting or deteriorating eyesight. My comments are based on the Oxford Classical Text of Hall and Geldart (1906), from which the Greek headwords are excerpted. My own views regarding the text are similarly shown in bold in the context of the notes. When comparing material from other works I have tried to cite closely contemporary writings, principally Aristophanes’ own Ἀχαρνεῖς (425 B.C .), Ἱππεῖς (424), and Σφῆκες (422), Euripides’ Ἱππόλυτος (428), and Ἱκέτιδες (423),. Where I refer to Roman sources, I do so cautiously, since the image projected by the later lens is often distorted. Greek works are cited by their Greek titles and Greek names are transliterated into Latin letters not into their Latin forms (unless the Latinized name has been so widely adopted in English that the original form would be obscure). One Latin distortion which is unavoidable (at my age) is the use of ‘long’ (longum) and ‘short’ (brevis) for syllables in prosody, instead of the more accurate adjectives ‘heavy’ and ‘light’. I have found the editions of Dover and Sommerstein most useful and stimulating, especially whenever we disagree, and I recommend those studying the play in depth to follow my example and consult their work wherever possible. It is also worth comparing some of the other translations available, of which there are many. The academic publications referred to in the commentary will be found listed in the bibliography at the end. A round-up of journal articles prefaces Alan Sommerstein’s most recent, revised edition (xxxvi- vii). The absence of an index to this commentary will distress some, but no one is perfect. Philologists will recognize that this drama, perhaps more than any other work of Aristophanes, has a wide appeal to non-specialist readers. Therefore, I have not confined my comments solely to matters of syntax and linguistic interpretation, but have allowed myself license to untether my ‘flying beetles’ as and when the fancy has taken me. The principal codices, all dating from the Christian era, are referred to by the following letters: R – Ravennas 429 (10 th /11 th centuries) V – Venetus Marcianus 474 (12 th century) A – Parisinus 2712 (13 th century) E – Estensis (14 th century) Θ – Laurentianus 2779 (14 th century) N – Neapolitanus (14 th /15 th centuries) ∆ – Laurentianus plut.31.16 (16 th century) Prologue (Πρόλογος ) 1-274 The scene represents the facades of two houses, separated by a street. One may imagine the drama being played out initially in the courtyard of Strepsiades’ town-house to one side and subsequently, before the gates of Sokrates’ School. At the edge of the stage beside the door of the house is a horse-statuette on a plinth in honour of the god Poseidon, while at the opposite edge of the stage stands a marble ‘Hermes’. 1. ἰοὺ ἰού The drama begins with a loud, despairing cry, which is probably heard off-stage. It comes from the aged, Athenian farmer Strepsiades who, as head of the household, has been sleeping indoors with his wife and her maids. He now emerges from the door, intending to rouse his son, who is the figure asleep on a pallet- bed. As usual in Aristophanic dramas, the protagonists are representative figures, whose names we only learn as the drama unfolds. In this case, the ‘old farmer’ does not identify himself until he has to address a stranger (cf. 134). The ritual cry ἰοὺ ἰού would have been familiar to the ancient audience from the annual ceremony of the Oschophoria. Plutarch (Θησεύς 22.3) states that the cry was intended to register “ shock and confusion ” – 1 ἐκπλήξεως καὶ ταραχῆς. Aristophanes would seem to be parodying its use by tragic poets (e.g. Euripides, Ἱππόλυτος 776). In due course (543), however, he will deny that he does so and, although his subsequent use of the cry (1170, 1321, 1493) must be deliberate and meant as comic irony, this initial instance could only be an oversight, which is highly unlikely given its position. The appropriate use of ἰοὺ ἰού is shown in Εἰρήνη (1191). Consequently, one ought perhaps to read ἰὼ ἰώ . Such a cry of despair is often heard in Tragedy (e.g. Euripides Μήδεια 96-7; Ἱππόλυτος 811), frequently from off-stage (cf. Σφῆκες 750). Dover points out that Aristophanes often adopts a cry or complaint as a comic ploy to grab the spectators’ attention at the opening of a play, e.g. in Ἀχαρνεῖς, Dikaiopolis complains of gnawing anxiety; in Ἱππεῖς, a slave runs onto the stage howling in pain. 2. ὦ Ζεῦ βασιλεῦ He calls upon the father of the gods as lord of all and dispenser of justice, just as any character in a tragic- drama might do. But here it is more of an expostulation than an invocation and tantamount to exclaiming, “Is there NO justice ?” (cf. 153, Σφῆκες 625). τὸ χρῆµα τῶν νυκτῶν ὅσον A similar expression occurs in Βάτραχοι (1278), ὦ Ζεῦ βασιλεῦ, τὸ χρῆµα τῶν κόπων ὅσον – “Almighty Zeus, work never ends !” I doubt that it was self-parody, as Dover suggests; rather it is a means of adding an exclamation mark when expressing a complaint or wondering aloud. Variations, found in Βαβυλώνιοι (frg. 73), ὦ Ζεῦ, τὸ χρῆµα τῆς νεολαίας ὡς καλόν – “Oh my, what a fine-looking bunch of young chaps !” and Εἰρήνη (1192), ἰοὺ ἰού, ὅσον τὸ χρῆµα ἐπὶ δεῖπνον ἦλθε – “ Good Lord , what a crowd has showed up for the feast !”, show the poet using it to draw the spectator into the imagined scene. Here, Aristophanes wants to establish at the outset that his character is put-upon, knowing that it is human nature to smile at another’s discontent (cf. 174 note). We understand from the plural τῶν νυκτῶν that this is not the first sleepless night he has had to undergo. As Graves and Henderson spot, it is ‘ night time ’ generally rather than this one ‘night’ which drags. Dover disagrees. 3. ἀπέραντον The codices are divided between ἀπέραντον (R) and ἀπέρατον (V). Either is possible (the third syllable is ‘long’ in any case), but modern editors are unanimous in adopting the former. They may be right to do so, but not perhaps for the right reason. The earliest evidence for this line is a piece from a fifth-century A.D . codex, which suggests that ἀπέρατον was written then and a scholion to this verse (RVE) makes no bones about it ( Σοῦδα α 3035, οἱ δὲ µετὰ τοῦ ν γράφοντες ἁµαρτάνουσιν – “ those who write it with the (first ) νυ are mistaken ”). If, as the scholiast states, the adjective ought to be written ἀπέρατον , we might reasonably restore the correct spelling here and elsewhere (e.g. 393, Plato Θεαίτητος 147 γ and Aischylos Προµηθεὺς ∆εσµώτης 153-4, ἀπέραντον Τάρταρον ), where the spelling ἀπέραντον has been preferred. In the case of the Aischylean phrase, the νυ may have been added to ensure that the syllable was treated as ‘long’ while the Platonic passage may have been made to conform to Aristophanes’ perceived usage in this play. But, though the ancient scholiast was probably right orthographically, the correct reading may not be what the poet intended. Editors place a full-stop before this adjective, making it almost an afterthought. But, since the sense does not demand it, why does the poet express it? In all likelihood he intended comic ambiguity. The audience (and modern philologists) expect Strepsiades to say that night-time extends beyond his capacity for sleep (due to his anxiety) and therefore seems ‘interminable’. But, what ancient scholars may have overlooked is the likelihood that Strepsiades is actually suggesting something a little different. What he says is that the long hours of darkness are “impenetrable ”, because the extension of night just does not admit of any penetration (i.e. the old farmer cannot ‘get it up’). The poet’s use of the verb περαίνω is demonstrated in Γεωργοί, where he accuses the poet Meletos of ‘penetrating Kallias’ (frg.117, Καλλίαν περαίνοντος ). Sexual innuendo, then and now, tends to cause knowing laughter. In a while, he will allude again to his wife’s sexual demands on him (55). Similarly crude word-play appears to enliven the opening scene of Σφῆκες (28-30). 4. καὶ µὴν πάλαι …ἤκουσ(α) ἐγώ. The conjunctive phrase (repeated at 1036) indicates a statement of conviction (“I did…I heard …”), which makes it clear that he had not merely imagined the cock crowing. But, cocks are notoriously unreliable as 2 alarm-clocks, and the audience would have been reminded of numerous false alarms which had disturbed their own sleep (cf. Σφῆκες 100, of a cock, ὃς ᾖδ’ ἀφ’ ἑσπέρας – “ which crowed just after nightfall ”). [Cockerels are rarely heard now in Athens, but Lawrence Durrell’s account of the Katsimbaline cockcrow of Athens in Henry Miller’s ‘ The Colossus of Maroussi ’ (appendix), is a reminder that they disappeared from the scene only comparatively recently.] 5. οἱ δ(ὲ) οἰκέται ῥέγκουσιν The use of the plural seems to confirm that he has emerged from the house, because if he had been lying awake in a bed alongside his son he would not be able to state with any certainty that all his slaves were snoring. An ancient scholiast claims that the plural should be taken to mean his household (members of his family as well as servants), but the reference to meting out punishment to the οἰκέτας (7) most likely relates to the slaves only (cf.