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Table of Contents:
Meter and form
Rauchenstein — who has done so much to promote the study of
Pindar, and to whose Introduction to Pindar, read and
meditated on many years ago, the present edition is
doubtless due — after commending Pindar in the warmest
terms to those who have reached the lyrical stage of life, the age
of feeling and enthusiasm, gives an outline of the preliminary
studies that he deems necessary, and then bids us begin with the easier odes. Which
are the easier odes? Not the shorter ones necessarily, for the
fourth Pythian, the longest of all, is one of the easiest, and the
fourteenth Olympian, one of the shortest, has given the commentators
much trouble. The fact is, a man who has read himself into Pindar is
a poor judge of the relative difficulty of the odes unless he has
made actual trial in the class-room, and the experience of most
lovers of Pindar has of necessity been limited, as Pindar has seldom
been read in our colleges. And yet it might be safe to recommend
some such course as this. For the beginning, within the range of
Olympians and Pythians, O. 12, 11 (10) — the short ode for
Agesidamos — then O. 3, 6, 7; P. 3, 4; for the
culmination, whatever else may lie between, O. 1, 2; P. 2. This
advice is based purely on the relative difficulty, but those who
know Pindar will see at once that the easier odes are
dactylo-epitrite, the harder odes are logaoedic or paionian. Of
course it is not to be expected that the student will be satisfied
with so long a course of dactylo-epitrites, but the lesson is this:
If any ode of Pindar is to be studied as a work of art, it is to be
approached as a work of art, and the first thing to be mastered, not
theoretically, but practically, is the form. A good recitation will
be found of far greater value than much discourse about the
atmosphere of the epinikion. The poem must be read
rhythmically over and over until it can be read
fluently aloud, and this must precede the intellectual study. Then,
of course, the vocabulary must be looked after, though the Pindaric
vocabulary is not very troublesome; thereupon the commentary, and
finally the introduction, by way of review. When the rhythm is
mastered, it will be found that the way is open for the appreciation
of the meaning of the poem in its parts and as a whole. The stress
falls on the summits of the thought. Words are not divorced that are
bound together by rhythm, no matter how widely they are separated to
the eye. Key-notes make themselves heard. The welding of masses
makes itself felt. The confused figures group themselves into
patterns, and out of the darkness, as out of a picture of Rembrandt,
the remotest forms come forth to the vision. Then it will be soon
enough to bring in the historical apparatus, soon enough, if it is
ever soon enough, to bring in the metaphysical analysis, the logical
skeleton, which is supposed to exhibit the organism of the ode,
though vertebrae and ribs and thigh-bones are often missing, to say
nothing of the head.
Of course metricians are not agreed about every detail of Pindaric
metre, but neither are commentators about every detail of the
interpretation of the text, and the divergencies affect chiefly
matters that are cognizable by the eye rather than by the ear
— questions of symmetry, of the distribution of the
masses. The length of the κῶλον may
be a matter of vital importance to the advanced Pindaric scholar.
For the beginner it is enough if he can be taught to feel how
intimate is the relation between form and sense, the ἦθος of the great moods and
metres.1
Some knowledge of the form, then, is a prerequisite to the artistic
study of Pindar, so much at least as is necessary to make use of the
metrical schemes appended to the odes.2
Lyric poetry meant among the Greeks what the words mean. It was meant
to be sung to the lyre, κιθάρα,
φόρμιγξ, to be sung and not simply recited. Instead of the
lyre, the flute, or rather clarionet, sometimes served to accompany
the voice; sometimes both instruments were used. The rhythmical
movement of the body, the dance, completed the trinity, which could
not be dissociated without loss. The Shield of Achilles in
Homer,3
Il. 18. 569-572, shows the
rudimentary union of voice, instrument, and dance, which survives,
still rudimentary, among the people of our stock. In Greece the
popular became the artistic, and passed through a long development,
which cannot be exhibited here. The great musicians of the eighth
century4 — Olympos, Terpandros, Thaletas
— were followed in the seventh by Alkman, the Lydian, the
sweet singer of Sparta, Stesichoros of Himera, “who bore
upon the lyre the weight of the epos,” and these were
succeeded by Simonides of Keos and Pindar, who represent the third
great stage of lyric poetry proper. The Lesbian school is called
melic rather than lyric, and Sappho and Alkaios are not the artistic
ancestors of Pindar. Their poetry, full of passion and fire as it
was, had not the sustained flight of the choral ode. It was from the
poems of Stesichoros that Pindar learned how to build the fourth
Pythian. The dithyramb is a thing apart.
Common to poetry, music, and dance is rhythm, which means
“regular flow.” Regular flow can be recognized
only by
interruptions; time unbroken is eternity; we must have groups, and
these groups must be of such dimensions as to be comprehensible.
Hence the definition of rhythm as χρόνων τάξις ἀφωρισμένη, “a
definite arrangement of times.” The recurrence of groups
was marked by the recurrence of a beat. So we have a strong time and
a weak time, θέσις and ἄρσις, the sense of which terms was
afterwards inverted. In these simple statements lies the whole
theory of rhythm. There must be an orderly succession of groups of
time, these groups must be accentuated by stress, they must have
simple proportions and a moderate extent, so that the ear can
recognize them, and finally they must be equal to one another. The
conditions of verse-rhythm are the same as those of musical rhythm.
As a rule, we have in every Greek verse a sequence of equal or
equivalent feet under the domination of a regularly recurring
stress.
The elements of verses are called feet, just as we call the elements of a dance
steps, and they correspond to bars in music.5
In language, as we have seen, rhythm is marked by stress of voice.
The stressed part is called arsis, the unstressed thesis, the stress
itself the ictus.
Rhythm when represented in language is embodied in metre. A metre is
a system of syllables that stand in a determined order. Of course only
those metres are of importance that embody the principal rhythms.
The unit of measure is the short syllable, u (χρόνος, mora), equal to an eighth note. The long,
-, is double the short and
equals a quarter note.
The classes of rhythm are based on the relation of arsis to thesis.
The number is restricted by the necessity of having simple
recognizable relations. The Greek has but three, and the third
occurs very seldom in modern music.6
I. Equal Class (γένος ἴσον), in
which the arsis is equal to the thesis. Represented in Pindar by the
dactyl, -uu or
-- (that is, -M).
II. Unequal Class (γένος
διπλάσιον), in which the arsis is double of the thesis.
Represented in Pindar by the trochee, -u, or by resolution, the tribrach
uuu.7
III. Quinquepartite or Sescuple or Five-eighths Class (γένος ἡμιόλιον), in which the arsis is
to the thesis as 3 : 2 (1 1/2 : 1). Represented in Pindar by the
various forms of the paionian measure.
- the cretic, -u-
- the first paeon, -uuu
- the fourth paeon, uuu-
- the (fully) resolved cretic, uuuuu (that is, W-W）
- the bacchius, --u or --u-8
So far we have considered the value of syllables as limited to the
simple relations of the short and the long, 1/8 notes and 1/4 notes.
But if we assume, as we have to assume, the equality of the
bars,9 it is impossible to
restrict the range of the elements to these two proportions, nor was
it so restricted. The long syllable may be drawn out beyond its
normal quantity. This is called τονή or protraction, and serves to make up for the
omission of one or more theses. When
this protraction fills up a whole bar it is called συγκοπή, and the verse is a syncopated
verse.
- 3 (triseme) = uuu, dotted quarter note
- 4 (tetraseme) = uuuu, half note
Sometimes two shorts occupy only the time of one. This is called
correption, and instead of writing u
uwe write w; musically,
this is like two sixteenth notes in place of an eighth note.
The final syllable of a verse is usually considered indifferent, and
is marked in the schemes here employed according to the
metrical requirements. Within the verse a long syllable which takes
the place of a short, or a short which takes the place of a long, is
called irrational, and is designated by >.
An irrational or two-time trochee is one in which the value is not
that of three eighth-notes, but two, and it is represented by -u, dotted eighth and sixteenth, the
proportions being not 2 + 1 eighth-notes, but 1 1/2 + 1/2. So the
irrational dactyl is one in which the values are 1 1/2 + 1/2 + 1
eighth-notes. It is written -u u,
dotted eighth, sixteenth, eighth.
The rhythm always begins with stress. The unstressed syllable or
syllables preceding do not count as a part of the rhythm, but as an
ἀνάκρουσις or signal-beat,
marked off by a dotted vertical line. The value of the anacrusis
must not exceed that of the regular thesis.
Missing theses at the
close of a verse are made up as in music by the pause or rest. These
pauses have different values. So ^
denotes a pause of one eighth note. The pause symbol with a long,
triseme, or tetraseme mark above it indicates a pause of
respectively two, three, or four eighth notes or morae.
One or two examples from the leading kinds of Pindaric metres will
illustrate these points. “
Λίσσο- ι μαι παῖ ι Ζηνός ἐ-
ι λευθερί- ι ου.
”
If this verse is measured by the mechanical values of the syllables,
we should have “
-u | -- | -uu | -uu | -
”
Measured by this system, we have “
3u | -- | -uu | -uu | -^
”
all bars equal, the missing thesis made up by pause. “
ἐνιπὰν ἀλιτόξενον.
”
This verse would be divided, according to the mechanical values,
thus: “
u- | -uu | -u | -
”
with utter disregard of rhythm. It is now read “
u | 3 | -u u | - u | - ^
”
with anacrusis before the first foot, protraction in the first foot,
irrationality in the second foot, and pause at the end.
How are we to know when to make use of these different methods of
reproducing the equality of the bars? When a single long syllable
comes between two trochees, -u| -
|-u, it is evident that we must read -u|3|-u. We have συγκοπή. But the case is not so clear when we have such
a verse as
O. 9.27:
“ἀγγελίαν πέμψω ταύταν.”
Are we to read this
-
-uu | - > | 3 | -u
- or -uu | 3 | - > |
-u
- or -uu | - > | - > | -
^
It is clear that here as elsewhere observation must come in. We must
find the great periods, which in Pindar are so clearly marked by the
sense that there is little dispute about them, and then within the
periods mark the κῶλα or members,
and observe the regular sequences. True, such κῶλα are already laid down by the metrical
scholiasts, but scholars are divided as to the value of them, and
the schemes followed here rest on the observations of J. H. H.
Schmidt, who has rejected the antique kolometry, and has based his
results on wide induction. The details belong to the systematic
study of the subject and cannot be introduced here.
The κῶλα are designated in the
schemes by =, the periods by
#. Within each period there is a
correspondence in the number of the bars of each κῶλον, and the groupings have received
different names according to the order of the recurrence. προῳδικόν and ἐπῳδικόν are respectively
“prelude” and “postlude,”
and stand outside of the responsions, which are usually indicated by
curved lines.10
We have προῳδικά in the following:
| O. 2 |
Ep. I |
3p 32.3211 |
| O. 9 |
Str. I |
3p 4.4 |
| O. 11(10) |
Ep. I |
5p 343 |
| O. 13 |
Str. I |
3p 6556 |
|
Ep. I |
3p 32.23 |
| O. 14 |
I |
3p 6.6 |
| P. 5 |
Str. I |
2p 3.2.3 |
ἐπῳδικά are far more common in
Pindar.
| O. 2 |
Str. I |
3.3 2 e |
|
Str. II |
3.3 2 e |
|
Ep. II |
(22)(22) 4e |
| O. 4 |
Str. I |
(44).4.(44).4 5e |
|
Ep. I |
4.4.4.5 e |
| O. 5 |
Ep. |
54.54 4e |
| O. 6 |
Ep. III |
4 4.4 3 e |
| O. 7 |
Ep. II |
(43)2.2(43).4 e |
So also O. 8, Str. III., Ep. I. II. III.; O. 9, Ep. I.; O. 10 (11),
Ep. II.; O. 12, Str. I. III.; O. 13, Str. III., Ep. III.; O. 14,
VI.; P. I., Ep. I.; P. 2, Ep. III.; P. 3, Str. I., Ep. I. II.; P. 4,
Str. III.; P. 5, Ep. II. III.; P. 6, III.; P. 7, Str. III.; P. 9,
Str. III., Ep. I. III.; P. 10, Str. I.; P. 11, Str. II., Ep. II.; P.
12, III.
A period is stichic when two or more equal κῶλα follow one after another. So:
| O. 4 |
Str. IV |
4.4 |
| O. 6 |
Str. V |
4 4 |
| O. 7 |
Str. I |
3 3 |
|
Str. VI |
3 3 |
| O. 10(11) |
Str. II |
6.6 |
|
Str. II |
4.4 |
It is palinodic when a group is repeated, as ab
ab, e.g.
| O. 1 |
Str. IV |
6.5.6.5 |
| O. 4 |
Ep. II |
4.3.4.3. |
| O. 5 |
Str. II |
5.4.5.4 |
| O. 9 |
Str. III |
4.2.4.2 |
It is antithetic when a group is repeated in inverse
order, ab ba, abccba:
| O. 3 |
Ep. II |
35.5.3 |
| O. 8 |
Ep. I |
5.3 3.5.3 e |
| O. 13 |
Str. I |
3 p 6.5.5.6 |
| P. 5 |
Str. IV |
6.4 4.6 |
| O. 6 |
Str. III |
423.324 |
| P. 7 |
Str. I |
6.232.6 |
In the palinodic-antithetic period, palinodic groups are
repeated antithetically, ab cc ab, e. g.:
| O. 6 |
Str. I |
43. 5.5 43 |
| O. 7 |
Ep. II |
43 2.2 43 |
| P. 7 |
Ep. I |
33 44 33 |
| P. 9 |
Str. II |
33 55 33 |
When the antithetic period has a solitary κω_λον in the middle it is mesodic, as
aba or abcba:
| O. 1 |
Str. II |
434 |
|
Ep. I |
424 |
| O. 5 |
Str. I |
323 |
| O. 6 |
Ep. I |
323 |
|
Ep. II |
424 |
| O. 7 |
Str. II |
242 |
|
Str. V |
323 |
|
Ep. III |
323 |
| O. 3 |
Str. I |
53 5 35 |
|
Ep. I |
43 2 34 |
| O. 8 |
Str. II |
23 3 32 |
| P. 5 |
Ep. II |
65256 4e |
| P. 7 |
Str. I |
62326 |
When a μεσῳδικόν is introduced into
a palinodic period it becomes palinodic-mesodic.
ab ab becomes ab c ab.
On this principle are constructed such periods as:
| O. 3 |
Str. II |
24 5 24 |
| P. 2 |
Str. II |
634 5 634 |
The principal rhythms used by Pindar are the Dactyloepitrite and the
Logaoedic. There are only a few specimens of the Paeon and the
Bacchius.
1. The Dactylo-epitrite measures receive the name from the
combination of the dactyl, - u u,
with the so-called
epitrite, - u - - ,
epitrite meaning 1 1/3 = 4/3, and supposed to be a rhythm in which
arsis is to thesis as 4 to 3. - u -
- would be divided as arsis, thesis, arsis, thesis. The
name is retained for convenience' sake; the true measure is, as we
have seen, 3 u | - -|.
The model dactylo-epitrite rhythm is shown in O. 3.
About half the extant odes of Pindar are composed in these rhythms,
which are also called Dorian. They are elevated, well-balanced,
equable, and present a marked contrast to the lively, lilting,
excited logaoedic measures, and the still more stirring cretic.
There is a thorough correspondence between the sense and the rhythm.
The Dorian odes are much easier to follow, the development is, as a
rule, much more regular, the forms are not so puzzling, even the
tenses sympathize with the rhythm, and the leisurely unfolding of
the imperfect is more common in the dactylo-epitrite than in the
logaoedic.
2. The Logaoedic rhythm is a 3/8 rhythm, the basis of which is the
trochee, but not the trochee with the ordinary ictus, -/u
This trochee has
a stronger secondary ictus on the short, admits irrationality,
->, and takes as a
substitute the so-called cyclical or light dactyl, -u u, in which the proportions are, as we
have seen, not 2 + 1 + 1 morae, but 1
1/2 + 1/2 + 1 = 3, a dotted-eighth rhythm. The apparent jumble of
dactyls and trochees, as in prose, gave rise to the name logaoedic
(from λόγος and ἀοιδή). The logaoedics are much used in
the lyric portion of the drama, and are familiar to all in the odes
of Horace, nearly half of the Horatian varieties, and more than
ninety per cent. of the odes, being logaoedic. The logaoedic rhythms
are lighter, more airy, than the dactylo-epitrite. They have festal
glitter rather than steady light, a rapid flitting rather than a
compassed march. All fancy apart, no stronger contrasts can be felt
than between the movements of the two odes on the victory of
Agesidamos (O. 10 and 11). The shorter ode rocks gently through a
series of antitheses. It is grave and stately, despite its short
compass. Not a preliminary flourish, not an anacrusis, throughout.
Contrast the dash and the whirl and the surprise of the longer ode.
O. 3 and O. 1 will also serve to bring out the contrast, which does
not rest on the imagination of the commentators, but on the
universal feeling of our race.
3. Those who have read the Acharnians of Aristophanes are familiar
with the passionate cretics that abound in that
young and lusty play. The Cretic or Paionian rhythm shows itself in
two of our odes, O. 2 and P. 5, both of them counted among the more difficult
Pindaric poems by reason of their extreme elasticity. But the rhythm
of these odes reveals the secret of their soul, and instead of being
the most difficult, they are among the most easily understood. The
passionate movement betrays them. The keynote is struck at the very
beginning. In O. 2, θεός, ἥρως,
ἀνήρ recur with a persistency that cannot escape the
most careless observer, and in P. 5 we have really nothing but a
series of variations on πλοῦτος, ἀρετά,
πότμος, another trinity. Passion comes out with its
story; passion will not let its story rest.
In what relation do these rhythms stand to the
“moods” made so familiar to us by our own poets
— by Milton, who says, “Lap me in soft Lydian airs,”
who speaks of the “Dorian mood of flutes and soft
recorders;” by Gray, who cries, “Awake, Aeolian
lyre, awake”? These three moods are all mentioned by
Pindar himself.12 O. 3 is designated as Dorian in
v. 5:
“Δωρίῳ φωνὰν ἐναρμόξαι πεδίλῳ”
. The Dorian harp of O. 1.17 is
generally understood to refer to the instrument and not to the mood
of the poem, which is called Aiolian in “
ἐμὲ δὲ στεφανῶσαι
κεῖνον ἱππείῳ νόμῳ
Αἰοληίδι μολπᾷ
χρή.
”
“Aiolian chords” are mentioned in P. 2.69, “the Aiolian
breathings of flutes” in N.
3.79. As these poems are logaoedic and O. 3 is
dactylo-epitrite, it would seem natural to identify Dorian with
dactylo-epitrite and Aiolian with logaoedic, but the Lydian mood
introduces a disturbing element. Lydian measures appear in
O. 5.19:
“Λυδίοις ἀπύων ἐν αὐλοῖς”
,
14, 17:
“Λυδίῳ ἐν τρόπῳ”
, and
N. 4.45:
“Λυδίᾳ σὺν ἁρμονίᾳ”
, three odes which are essentially logaoedic, and in
N. 8.15:
“Λυδίαν μίτραν καναχηδὰ
πεποικιλμέναν”
, dactylo-epitrite. But the logaoedic odes that are composed
in the Lydian mood are all of very simple construction and popular
character, and the only Lydian dactylo-epitrite shows marked
peculiarities of periodology, so that for Pindar at
least the general identification of Aiolian with logaoedic and
Dorian with dactylo-epitrite may be maintained. It will suffice here
to give a characteristic of these three moods — Dorian,
Aiolian, and Lydian13 — after the ancient authorities,
leaving the details of Greek musical composition, with its diatonic,
chromatic, and enharmonic scales, to special students. This is the
more permissible here because the diatonic or natural scale was the
only one employed in lyric choruses.14
The Dorian mood was manly and imposing, like the Dorians themselves;
not expansive nor lively, but grave and strong. What it lacked in liveliness and
variety, it made up by steadiness and impressiveness. Δώριον μέλος σεμνότατον, says Pindar
himself, in a fragment. It is the mood for the tug of war, where the
staying quality is priceless.
The Aiolian was said to reflect the character of the Aiolian
chivalry, the high and mighty, self-asserting, deep-drinking magnates of Thessaly,
the swaggering, fighting, lovemaking, convivial countrymen of
Alkaios. The Aiolian mood, like the Aiolians themselves, was joyous
and full of movement, frank and fair, without lurking meanness or
shyness. If the Dorian mood suited the close-locked conflict of
infantry, the martial dash of the Aiolian mood made it fit for the
Καστόρειον, the ἵππειος νόμος.15
The Lydian mood, originally a flute-melody, was introduced as a
νόμος ἐπικήδειος or dirge,
and the tender, plaintive strains were chiefly used in lamentations for the dead.
Aristotle says (Pol. 8 end）
that the Lydian mood was especially adapted to boys, διὰ τὸ δύνασθαι κόσμον τ᾽ ἔχειν ἅμα καὶ
παιδείαν. The simplicity of the composition, and the
naturally plaintive tone of boys' voices, are reasons that lie
nearer to us.
The Pindaric odes were accompanied now with the cithern, now with the
flute (clarionet), now with both. In Pindar's time the
instrumentation was still subordinate.
The third element of the form is the dance; song, music, dance, being
the trinity. This, of course, has perished for us beyond all recovery,
and only the names στροφή,
ἀντιστροφή, and ἐπῳδός remain to remind us that the rhythmical
movement of the chorus added to the charm of the performance. The
strophic poems of Pindar are processional, not orchestic.
