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"Trompe-l'oeil Paintings" of Exceptional
Quality at Patron's Tomb |
Pre-Scriptum: A
former colleague, who is an art historian, asked Phrontisterion to help in
translating a group of Greek inscriptions in the context of her research
project on ancient Roman tombs and funerary frescos depicting garden scenes.
Dated at around the first century
BC, the inscriptions were discovered in 1842, and excavated along with “
frescoes of exceptional quality,” just south of Rome near the ancient Circus Maximus.
The inscriptions were interpreted, catalogued, and published for the
Musée National du Louvre in
Les
Inscriptions Grecques,
interprétées par W.
Fröhner
(
Paris: Librairies-Imprimeries
Réunies, 1864/5).
To my knowledge there is still no other published translation
specifically of the Patron inscriptions, other than the rather perfunctory renderings,
in French, which were advanced in the 1860s by the Louvre curator, Fröhner (1834-1925). I have translated
the funeral poems concerning Patron that are available, which are the Greek fragments
233, 234, and 235. Fröhner had originally suggested a reconstruction of several
significantly corrupted passages, notably in fragment 233, but these have since
been more meaningfully reconstructed by the editors of the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae (TLG: University of California Irvine,
USA). The following Greek electronic text is from the TLG.
Such is the reconstructed glimpse over
the netherworld’s fading threshold, which history permits us, into what was once
the life and death of Patron the doctor.
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| Engraving of Patron's Tomb (Secchi, Roma, 1843) |
A Matter of Life and
Death. At the emplacement of his tomb near the Palatine Hill, which is one
of the most ancient parts of the Eternal City, the story of Patron’s life and
death was found etched in stone, rendered in Greek heroic verse.
Patron’s tomb dates from
approximately the time of Augustus Cesar, ca. 18 BC (
vide Bagnani in
Fröhner),
and is situated at the
Porta Capena,
which is the southern gateway in Rome’s Servian Wall, opening out onto the
Via Appia. The Servian Wall had the
formidable reputation of being capable of repelling the elephant-equipped
armies of the great Carthaginian general, Hannibal, who, in today’s geography, would
have been a Tunisian, an even more remote son of ancient Phoenicia. That said,
the Wall never had the opportunity to live up to its daunting reputation—apparently,
and certainly notwithstanding his efforts to the contrary, the Punic general and
his armies only ever got to within 5 km of Rome.
The stone inscriptions of Patron’s life and death are
composed in ancient Greek. The curiosity here, of course, is that a
non-specialist like this Phrontisterion philosopher would not necessarily have
expected to find Greek language funeral inscriptions in Rome.
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| The Inscription Blocks from Patron's Tomb |
But, then, that
is part of the intrigue in this story; because this detail reveals to us
something about this immigrant medical doctor, Patron: according to one
fragment in the inscriptions, which are composed in Doric, as opposed to Attic
Greek, Patron says that his native land was Lycia, which is today found in
southwestern Turkey on a finger of land pointing to, and including the island
of Rhodes (light brown on the map below).
Scholars talk about the Dorians as a people, an ethnicity certainly
familiar to students of art history for its columns—which are considered
simpler than those of either the Ionians or the Corinthians, as well as for art
of the Geometric period (ca. 950 BC).
But then again, scholars talk about many things and not everything is
necessarily interesting or worthwhile. For example, there is a common albeit
not unproblematic scholarly notion of a so-called Dorian “
invasion” of the
Peloponnesus, which should perhaps be more correctly called a migration of
Dorian peoples, which is thought to have taken place sometime around 1150 BC.
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| Architectural Columns |
The Doric or Dorian dialect of Ancient Greek, commonly known
as western Greek, which was spread about Greece by the migration of the Dorian
peoples, is fairly indigestible to a Hellenophile, like myself, who has been
nurtured on the sweet milk of Attic and Koine Greek. In addition to being more
or less the standard style of ancient Greek that one studies at school, Attic,
or eastern Greek, is also the Greek dialect of Athens, spoken from ca. 500-300
BC. This is the Greek of the classical period of Athens, in which are embodied
the works of the dramatists Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, the comedian
Aristophanes, the historian Thucydides, and of course the philosophers Plato
and Aristotle. Historically speaking, Attic Greek would slowly evolve into the
Koine or common Greek spoken during Hellenistic and Roman antiquity—this is the
“superregional” or lingua franca
Greek that was spoken from roughly 300 BC to 300 AD all across the
Mediterranean basin, and which will also include the writings of the Christian
New Testament.
In the briefest possible wiki-history
version of the
Greek dialects, according to those in the know “it” all boils down to Mycenaean
or Late Bronze Age Greek (16
th-12
th centuries BC), which
was reconstructed from the Linear B tablets after some first-class linguistic
sleuthing by Ventris and Chadwick. The three forms of Greek that evolved from
Mycenaean Greek are the Aeolic (Lesbos, western Asia Minor, Boeotian and
Thessalian = northeastern Greece), the Doric (northwestern Greece), and the
Ionic (western and southwestern Asia Minor). Attic Greek evolved as a subgroup
of Ionian Greek.
Doric Greek, on the other hand, which
is our present interest, is, historically speaking, an older dialect of Greek, and
spoken provincially, which is to say primarily beyond the borders of Attica,
which, as its name implies, occupies the Attic Peninsula including, of course,
the great polis of Athens. Dating from ca. 800-100 BC, variations of Doric
Greek “were spoken in the southern and eastern
Peloponnese, Crete, Rhodes, some islands in the southern Aegean Sea, some
cities on the coasts of Asia Minor, Southern Italy, Sicily, Epirus and
Macedon.”
According
to wiki-history, then, the scholarly consensus is that Doric Greek originated
among ethnicities living in the mountains of northwestern Greece, which is supposed
to be the traditional homeland of the Dorians, and from which Doric was spread
to neighboring regions during the Dorian “invasion” and subsequent regional colonizations.
Per the wiki-map below, the broader group of Doric dialects, which is indicated
by all the various “brownish” regions, will include Doric proper, Northwest
Greek, and Achaean Doric.
Important for
historians of ideas is the contextualizing historical setting, which is that
the two most important ethnicities in 5th century Greece were the
Dorians and the Ionians, who were also the two principal players in the
Peloponnesian War—a total game-changer for the history of the city of Athens. Prima facie, the war in the Peloponnesus
was waged between Athens and Sparta; but the Athenians and their allies in
Sicily were ethnically Ionian, while the folks in Syracuse and the Spartans
were ethnically Dorian. The war was fought serially, and it was therefore
rather long in that it lasted from 431-404 BC, or for about 27 years; but it
eventually brought about the decline of Athens per the prediction of Socrates
just prior to his execution at the hands of the Athenians in 399 BC. It goes
almost without saying, of course, that the Ionians of Attica, like their Dorian
ancestral enemies in the Peloponnesus, had their own dialect of Greek, their
own style of making a column, and are color-coded with a distinctive purple on
the wiki-map below.
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| Spoken Greek According to Regions (Source: Wiki) |
As we were saying, then, Patron was a medical doctor and ethnically
Dorian, which means he spoke Doric Greek, if one may already begin to deduce
his language from the language of his funeral inscriptions. One discovers
additionally from the inscriptions that he originally hailed from Lycia, which
is a whole wide world away from Rome, and that he died and was buried in a
beautiful Roman tomb as an immigrant.
Lycia,
which today would be Anatolia or the southwestern region of Turkey, was a Doric
Greek speaking region of Asia Minor. It was subsumed into the Greek empire that
was being constructed by Alexander the Great, and, after the defeat of the
Persian King, Darius III, at the battle of Issus (southern Anatolia) in 331 BC,
Lycia was totally Hellenized under the rule of the Macedonians. After 168 BC,
when Lycia enjoyed official home rule within the context of the Lycian League, the
region enjoyed some degree of autonomy under the protectorate of the Roman
republic; however, Lycia was neither independent nor a sovereign region, but a
self-governing region under republican principles. It also had the right,
apparently for a time, to mint its own coins. In 43 AD emperor Claudius
dissolved the Lycian League, and Lycia was again incorporated, with provincial
status, into the Roman Empire. This would be about the time, historically, that
Patron would have appeared on the scene.
There have
been some fine heroes in history and myth who claim Lycia as their homeland.
Much of the early foundational history of the region is recounted in The Histories of Herodotus, having to do
with the sons of Europa, Sarpedon (the grandfather of the Homeric one) and
Minos; it was Minos who bested Sarpedon in vying for the throne in Crete, thus
driving him away from Crete and into our narrative. In his flight, grandfather Sarpedon
lands in Milyas, which is the ancient name for later Lycia.
Apparently Bellerophon, of Pegasus
fame and monster-killer extraordinaire, credited with slaying Chimera, was also
later king in Lycia. This story comes to us via Homer (Il. 6.155-203), being told by his grandson, Glaucus (Trojan ally),
who, one remembers, meets the great Diomedes (Greek) on the battlefield (Bks. 2
& 6) and, instead of fighting as enemies, they actually exchange gifts of
friendship because their grandfathers had been befriended. Diomedes got the
best of the exchange, however, and notwithstanding the excellence of the
gesture, Glaucus comes down to us as a somewhat tragic fool of the gods who
would later be killed by Ajax.
One thing leading to another,
though, the first Sarpedon, who fled Crete from his brother, ultimately yielded
a second Sarpedon, through Laodamia (daughter of Bellerophon); this second hero
was killed at Troy. This Sarpedon grandson is famous for having had a good
grump at Hector, the Trojan general (Bk. 5), on the nature of heroism or lack
thereof, and, additionally, for giving a wonderful speech on the honorable,
heroic life (Bk. 12), as well as for living and dying an uncertain number of
times—being a favorite of Zeus, the King of the Gods tried to keep him from
dying at the hands of Diomedes, until Hera reminded her husband that gods did
not have that right (Bk. 16), at which point Zeus backs off. So—spoiler alert,
Sarpedon gets to really die; but the comedy gets played out, because Apollo
recovers the body and has it delivered back to Lycia for funeral honors. All is
well that ends well, in a Greek tragic, heroic kind of a way.
Now all of this chatting about heroes hither and yon in the
pages of Lycian history necessarily brings us back full circle to the Roman funeral
inscriptions of our good doctor, Patron, which are not “simply” composed in
Doric Greek, but are in fact rendered in the heroic poetic form of the Greek
epic.
According to common
sources, scholarly
opinion seems to be that Doric Greek is the “conventional dialect of choral
lyric poetry”; but then I am not sure that this bit of information advances us
much, because choral lyric poetry is not written in the epic form, which
Patron’s inscriptions definitely are. There is equally
scholarship suggesting
that ‘epic praise’ will undergo historical transformation already in Classical
Athens, shifting from its traditional expression through Homeric poetry/verse,
and instead being replaced with the more democratically oriented funeral
oration. The strength of this theory is grounded in the funeral oration of
Pericles (Thucydides,
History
2.41.4), who, speaking over the Athenian dead, says: “We need no Homer to sing
our praise, nor anyone else who with his verses may delight for a moment…” Instead
of relying on more traditional or customary rhetorical devices to demonstrate
their ‘power through epic poetry’, as had the aristocratic Athens of antiquity,
“
Pericles assures the [5th
century] Athenians that their city has provided overwhelming demonstrations of
its power, and especially in view of the dead they were there to honor. Such
tangible proofs, he contends, are sufficient in and of themselves to ensure the
glory of the city (http://www.pdf-archive.com/2015/10/14/thucydides-rationalism-2005/, p. 11).”
The Greek epic tradition is, first and foremost, Homer. The
most anodyne definition of the epic is, as every schoolboy learns, that it is a
lengthy poem containing tales of journeys and deeds of derring-do; but this
definition does not inform us as to why a 1st century BC funeral
inscription would be composed in epic verse, unless, of course, we give value
to the metaphorical element of the deceased’s journey through life, and then
the passage from life to death. This certainly seems a fitting hermeneutical
entry into thinking about and interpreting the Patron inscriptions.
A second direction to go in
considering the Patron inscriptions is not to consider necessarily the content
of the inscriptions for epic material, but rather for their metrical form. Standard epic verse, which is traditionally composed in
hexameter metrical
lines, is also certainly apparent in the Patron inscriptions (
vide Fröhner, 294).
Finally, there is a consideration
of the actual vocabulary used in the inscriptions, which is in fact and in deed
denotationally dominated by Doric epic elements. This seems consistent with
general usage in antiquity, for, according to one
site, “All later Greek
poetry relied on Epic practice to a greater or lesser degree. This included
vocabulary, a choice of alternates for noun declension and verb conjugation,
turns of phrase and even particular quirks of syntax.” This description of
“epic practice” is certainly fitting considering all the Doric language
elements, apparent both in noun/adjective declensions as well as the verb conjugations,
with which the Patron inscriptions are replete to overflowing.
The Patron inscriptions (circa 18 BC).
TOMB OF PATRON
(233.) ΑΛΛΟ. (t)
Πάτρω]ν [εἰμί]· πατρὶς Λυ[κίων μ’] ἐλοχεύσατο γαῖα. (1)
Ῥώμ]α δ’ ἐν τιμαῖς πρά[γματά μου δέχ]εται.
Ὦ] μάκαρ, [ἐς φάος] ἀελίου πάλιν [οὔ μ’ ἀπο]πέμπεις,
εὐπά[τριδ’ ἀλλ’ ἐφορᾷς
τηλό]θι θαπτόμενον.
233. I am Patron; and the fatherland that bore me, Lycia. /
And valor among honors can be expected through my accomplishments.
/
You are blessed, [Lycia] who do not send me off again back
to the light of the sun, /
But rather, from afar you oversee funeral rites celebrated
to honor one of noble family born.
233.bis. Commentary: Our native lands send us forth into the
light of the sun, and observe from a distance as we are given again to the
shadows. The valor of our accomplishments between sun and shadow is ours to
win, but it does not belong to us alone; our honors are also those of our
native soil. The individual is always surrounded by a crowd of witnesses.
233.ter. Fröhner French
(1864/5, 295). Je suis Patron, ……
est mon pays natal ; maintenant l’Hadès m’a reçu, moi qui fus si bienveillant
pendant mon administration. Heureux Hadès ! tu ne me renvoies plus à la
lumière du soleil, car j’ai appartenu à une noble famille, moi qui suis enterré
ici.
(234.) ΑΛΛΟ. (t)
Εἰς τὸν αὐτόν. (n)
Οὐ βάτοι, οὐ τρίβολοι τὸν ἐμὸν τάφον
ἀμφὶς ἔχουσιν @1 (1)
οὐδ’ ὀλολυγαία νυκτερὶς
ἀμπέταται·
ἀλλά με πᾶν δένδρος χαρίεν περὶ ῥίσκον
ἀνέρπει
κυκλόθεν εὐκάρποις κλωσὶν
ἀγαλλόμενον.
Ποτᾶται δὲ πέριξ
λιγυρὴ μινυρίστρι’ ἀηδὼν (5)
καὶ τέττιξ γλυκεροῖς
χείλεσι λιρὰ χέων,
καὶ σοφὰ τραυλίζουσα χελιδονὶς, ἥ τε
λιγύπνους
ἀκρὶς ἀπὸ στήθο[υς ἡδὺ χέουσα μέλος].
Πάτρων ὅσσα βροτοῖσιν ἐράσμια πάντ’
ἐτέλεσσα
ὄφρα καὶ εἰν Ἀΐδᾳ τερπνὸν
ἔχοιμι τόπον· (10)
τἆλλα δὲ πάνθ’ ἃ λέλοιπα καὶ ἐν νεότητι
κατέκτην
ᾤχετο πλὴν ἃ πρὶν ζῶν
ἀπεκαρπισάμην.
234. Neither brambles nor burdocks hold court around my tomb,
/ (1)
Nor does any shrilling bat turn overhead; /
But rather every tree gracefully spreads upwards, twisting in
a circle all about my vault, /
Which is made glorious from all sides by their branches
heavy laden with fruit. /
And flitting around and about is a clear-voiced warbler, a
songstress, / (5)
And a cicada boldly holding forth from between sweet lips, /
And a clever swallow quietly intoning, or even a cricket’s
shrill chirping, /
When a pleasant song is pouring forth from her breast. /
[I], Patron, achieved all sorts of lovely things among
mortal men /
In order that I should also have a delightful place as well in
Hades; / (10)
But, also, I have left behind all those things I used to
seek after in my youth; /
It is all gone, save that fruit which I harvested before, while
alive.
234.bis. Commentary: Patron’s tomb is not a place of decay
and abandon, but is surrounded by the beautiful, the pleasant, and the
fruitful. This is obviously also true of Patron’s life, which was a ‘place’ of
fruitful and pleasant plantings and sowing. The goodness that Patron sowed
during his life spent among men, is the only abiding fruit that Patron gets to
leave behind.
234.ter. Fröhner French
(1864/5, 294). Ni ronces ni épines
n’entourent mon tombeau ; nulle chauve-souris aux cris perçants ne tournoie
au-dessus ; mais toutes sortes de charmants arbustes, les branches ornées de
beaux fruits, poussent autour de mon cercueil et on y voit voltiger le
rossignol aux mélodies retentissantes et la cigale à la voix douce et
harmonieuse, et l’hirondelle aux doctes gazouillements, et la sauterelle aux
cris sonores, qui, du fond de sa poitrine, répand ses jolies chansons. (Moi)
Patron, j’ai rendu aux hommes beaucoup de bons services pour avoir aux enfers
une place agréable. De tous les biens que j’ai quittés et que je possédais dans
ma jeunesse, il ne me reste rien, si ce n’est (le souvenir) des jouissances que
j’ai goûtées durant ma vie.
(235.) ΑΛΛΟ. (t)
Πατὴρ Πάτρων μὲν, Ἀπποληΐα δ’ ἐγώ· (1)
τεκνῶ δὲ δισσὰ τέκνα, πατέρα δ’ εὖ
λέγω.
235. My father is Patron, and I am Appoleia;
I have brought two children into the world, and I commend [eulogize]
my father.
235.bis. Commentary: The children, and the children’s’ children,
are the fruit of a parent’s planting, but a harvest for the future.
235.ter. Fröhner French
(1864/5, 295). Mon père est Patron,
moi je suis Appuleja. J’ai eu deux enfants et je bénis mon père.
MACHIAVELISME, (Hist. de la Philos.) [Histoire de la philosophie] Diderot2 
