This delightful collection of shouts and 'mimic words' (bird cries and onomatopoeic words: cf. Eustathius on Homer, Iliad 11.251 = vol.3.230.12) from the extant plays of Aristophanes, meticulously ordered and unusually well preserved, throws light on e.g. the roles of Procne the nightingale and the kestrel (note 10) in Birds and of the Young Man at the end of Ecclesiazusae (note 27), and on the complex metrical structure of the monodies, duets and choruses of Birds. It was compiled, however, in the context of the grammatical Canons, words classified by analogy into paradigms of form and accentuation. The most important Canons of the time were those of Theognostus, compiled in the 9th Century.
The words in this entry were classified (in the 2nd. Century AD) as sxetliastika/ ‘exclamations’, a sub-class of e)pirrh/mata ‘adverbs’ according to Apollonius Dyscolus (OCD(4) 124 'Apollonius (13)'; cf. bibliography below) and his son Herodian (OCD(4) 674 'Herodian(1)''; see bibliography below). The majority of the examples in the Suda can be found in a treatise on grammar attributed (probably falsely) to Herodian’s disciple Theodosius of Alexandria (RE 5A.1935 ‘Theodosius 6’; cf. bibliography below), at 79.2-24. This treatise discusses the accentuation of “adverbs”, especially those ending in –i or –ei (76.3-7, 12-14, 18-20, 30-77.2, 21-79.27). It also confirms earlier Canons for monosyllabic adverbs with diphthongs and those with accented diphthongs in the final or penultimate syllable, following the old rule that exclamations always receive the circumflex accent (Theognostus §959.11, cf. Chandler §897).
The Suda entry, as transmitted to us, confirms this Canon, but differs from Theodosius in several respects. Its citations from Aristophanes are more authoritative and are accompanied by material also found in the scholia. It has additional examples. A careful examination of the citations shows that the cries mimicked do not always obey the rules of the Canon. With the exception of oi)/moi (note 19), not in Theodosius, perhaps all the examples are of mimic words and shouts with oxytone accents on the last syllable. Has a copyist erroneously restored the Canonical accentuation on words that Suda correctly listed as exceptions to the Canon, thus throwing doubt on their status as adverbs, or is the entry merely a continuation of the traditional error? Was the real point of the entry to show how Aristophanes introduced such "words", with their rising final tones, into the remarkable metres and melodies of Birds? On these important issues there can be no certainty without identifying the author of the entry and his relation to the Canon.
All exclamations are oxytone (i.e. with an acute accent, never a grave, on the last syllable) unless there is a note to the contrary.
[1] Birds 58, 59, 60. The headword merely happens to be the first word of the first citation. It is an invented word, with an adverbial suffix -i, based on the cry of the hoopoe, (p)oo-poo-poo (Peterson 141, cf. Thompson 95-100) rather than on the name of the hoopoe, e)/poy, e)/popos. The lemma, following the Canon, reads e)popoi=, but, if it is an adverb in -i, it is probably to be taken as oxytone e)popoi/. The explanation here and in the scholia (cf. ps.-Zonaras epsilon p.857), that at line 58, in the mouth of Pisetaerus (for a character drawn from Alcibiades 'the persuader of his companions' is a better name than Pisthetaerus; see Dunbar and others), the suffix is intended to represent -isti 'in the fashion/language of' (cf. *(Ellhnisti/ 'in Greek'), is plausible enough (Dunbar, ad. 57-8, regards it, however, as formed by analogy to pai=). Euelpides in the passage misunderstands that he has been told to call the Hoopoe in hoopoe language instead of with 'Boy, boy!' (pai=, pai=). He uses epopoi as the actual summons to the bird in lines 59-60. This is comic because it evokes an old epic exclamation of lamentation w)= po/poi, believed by ancient commentators to be used in praying to the gods as e)/popoi 'overseers' (web address 1). The word e)/popos, with recessive accent, is attested only in scholarly works (Eustathius, Commentary on the Iliad 254 = p.155; the scholia here; scholia to Oppian, Halieutica 1.354) , where it is taken to mean 'overseer' (sc. a god), from the root for seeing, op- (e.g; o)ptiko/s).
[2] Birds 227. Tereus the Hoopoe (Epops in Greek) has issued his call to Procne the Nightingale at lines 209-22, evoking the sinister myth of the death of Itys (see Burkert in References) and the metamorphoses of the three into birds (used in Euripides' Helen in 414 BC to evoke the fate of Athens's sons in Syracuse). Procne's reply is introduced by the pipe of a well-known piper after line 222, on whose beauty the characters comment. We hear the reply of the nightingale from offstage, where she is almost certainly joined in duet (cf. Rogers 151, Thompson 96) by the Hoopoe, also off stage. The first word that we hear, sung in duet or by the nightingale alone, is an amused repetition of the amusing e)popoi/, this time written oxytone in the Suda (but not in our editions). The rest of the line consists of modulations of this word, evoking both her own song and the lament po/poi. It was probably close to the Suda citation here, but it cannot be reconstructed with any certainty.
[3] Birds 228, 237, 242. Each 'word' is oxytone, both those ending in omega (io, ito and those in omicron (tio, trioto. Modern editions often erroneously print grave accents. The three citations come from the beautiful offstage monody of Birds 227-62 (web address 2), to be imagined coming from a nightingale in the deep woods or perhaps from the direction of Alcamenes' statue of Procne and Itys on the Acropolis. The two join offstage in reviewing what the birds see of Attica, the sowing of seed on the ploughed fields, the gardens and orchards, the forests, the swamps and the sea, and in summoning them to an assembly. The voice offstage that sings the three nightingale phrases cited here must have been taken by the audience to be the nightingale's. At line 228 we begin with the familiar exclamation *i)w/ (cf. Acharnians 1212), but quickly adjust to the whee-yoo, whee-too that underlies most of the bird's varied calls (cf. the identification of the cry in Greek with the accusative *i)/tun of the name of her son whom she has murdered). At the beginning of line 229 the call i)tw/ is transformed into the third person imperative i)/tw, 'let someone go'. At line 237 we have what Peterson describes as 'a slow piu, piu, piu, rising to [sic] a brilliant crescendo' (147), and at 242 a phrase explained in Blaydes's edition (ad 237). The latter editor cites a writer in The Times of August 30, 1859 who 'wanted to imprint on my memory the musical phrases with which the bird composes its melodies. The following are the most striking among them: Tiou-tiou-tiou, ut-ut-ut-ut-ut, tchitchou, tchitchoo, tchit-tchit, rrrrrriout, etc.' We recognize that line 237 repeats the first phrase twice, i.e. in one musical sequence, and line 242 combines the third, fourth and fifth phrases into a single sequence (as the writer of the article probably intended). The rising crescendo at the end of each phrase gives that phrase its metrical identity and takes the place of the long syllable normal in the beat (ictus) of the iambic or anapaestic metre. The attribution of the entire song to Tereus the Hoopoe by modern editors (the so-called Hoopoe's Song) is based on line 225. He has disappeared into the bushes (see lines 265-66), and at line 225 one or other of the characters on stage (editors give the line to Pisetaerus, but it is probably a question from Euelpides) expects to hear his voice. He is in error. The audience can have no doubt by line 237 that the voice singing the nightingale phrases, perhaps the whole song, is that of Procne, responding to the summons of Tereus.
[4] Birds 259. The text here, a repeated deu=ro with a circumflex accent on the first syllable, is almost certainly in error, and should be replaced by its Attic oxytone form deuri/ (delta 287), the adverb treated at this point in Theodosius (76.13) and used 18 times in Aristophanes (e.g. Knights 272; cf. kappa 2751) with the same meaning, 'hither' (and thus the command, 'Come here!'). It matches the call of the Stone Curlew (Burhinus oedicnemus, Peterson 94, Pls. 32, 41; Thompson 311), 'a wailing, curlew-like koo-ree.' This is probably the Greek charadrios (proverbial for its gluttony at Plato, Gorgias 494B). Pisetaerus congratulates Tereus at line 266 on his imitation of this bird. We should take this at face value to mean that Tereus's voice sang at least this line in a duet with that of Procne. (But see Dunbar ad loc.). The line should thus read deuri/ deuri/ deuri/ deuri:/ deuri/.
[5] Birds 260-62. The bird summoned in lines 260, 262 would appear to be the woodlark (Lullula arborea, distinct from the only two larks discussed by Thompson, 164-68, the crested lark, ko/rudos, mentioned at lines 302, 472, to whom the shepherd Corydon owes his name, and the skylark), who into his normal song, 'a melodious toolooeet,' intersperses 'a liquid trilling lu-lu-lu-lu' (Peterson 147). A phrase of this call is repeated at line 267 but does not belong to the first birds to arrive. The first is a lake bird called the Redwing (foiniko/pteros, usually the flamingo); the second is the Medos or Median, a term applied both to the peacock (mu 884, tau 99) and to a species of early poultry cock (Hesychius *mh=doi a)lektruo/nes; Thompson 203). As Fraenkel observes (83), these first four birds 'do not sing (or for that matter, speak), nor do they dance. They look pretty and exotic.' It is likely then that Rogers, Fraenkel and Dunbar are correct in following the scholion ad loc. and saying that the Hoopoe responds to his own call (or that of the nightingale), to give the illusion that some bird is replying to their calls. The bird summoned in line 261 is probably intended to be the Little Owl glau=c (Athene noctua, on the coins of Athens, Peterson 135), mentioned as in the chorus of birds (line 301), but there is a question whether this cry and the name of the owl associated with it (kikkabh/) are not rather the short-eared owl (Asio flammeus, also called the barn or screech owl, Peterson 137), as LSJ takes them. The cry should be probably written with an oxytone owl's hoot as the fourth syllable. Theodosius (79.2-6) lists it among oxytone cries, but, like the Suda, the transmitted text has the circumflex accent dictated by the Canon on a final diphthong ending in -u (scholia to Euripides, Andr. 250). This call allows for a visual gag of finding an Athenian coin with the owl's image, cf. the proverb at 301 glau=k' *)aqh/naze 'an owl to Athens' (British 'coals to Newcastle').
[6] Birds 314. The shrill, rising, repeated cries of the kestrel, kerxnh|/s (Falco tinnunculus, Peterson 79), are expressed with a separate oxytone on each of 6 (the mss have 8) cries, and editors are in error who replace the acute accents with graves. This bird enters as a member of the Chorus at line 305, but probably sings this line on his own as a challenge to the human intruders, against whom the Chorus now turns. The cries can also be translated by the questions “What? Why?” As the cry i)tw/ was transformed into the grammatical form i)/tw (note 3), pou/ into the question pou= (note 8), poi/ into the question poi= (note 9), so the kestrel’s cry is changed into the question ti/na ‘whom?’
[7] Various adaptations of this sequence of the nightingale’s phrases (tio/ tio/ tioti/gc, tio/ tio/ tioti/nc) appear in our texts as a refrain, five times each, in the strophe and antistrophe of the onstage song of Procne in Birds (737-751, 769-784: web addresses 3 and 4). The authority of the Suda in this matter has often been rejected in favor of metrical theories of later editors.
[8] Birds 1122. The First Messenger is a carrier pigeon (known in Athens by this time: cf. Pherecrates fr. 33 Kock (now 38 K.-A.), from the Graes, "Send off a pigeon announcing the message"), and the line imitates its excited cooing. The text reads pou= in accordance with the Canon of monosyllabic adverbs, but the coo is probably oxytone except where, taken with )sti, it regains its status as the interrogative adverb, ‘Where is?”.
[9] Birds 1199-1201, omitting two words (web address 5). As Pisetaerus with his wings begins to question Iris the Rainbow on her arrival on stage, he talks like the birds. The text of the entry follows the Canon for the accentuation of monosyllabic adverbs poi= poi=, but the repeated sound is probably oxytone to remind us of the carrier pigeon at line 1122 (previous note).
[10] Birds 1258. The Suda defines eu)ra/c as “from the flank” (e)k plagi/ou: epsilon 3674). It is a military term, used in Homer of warriors attacking from the blind side. It is also appropriate to a ship ramming the broadside of another (cf. epsilon 3674). On the oxytone accent of adverbs in –ax see Herodian 510. The accompanying word pata/c is not attested elsewhere, but is probably abbreviated, to make a jingle, from an aorist imperative of pata/ssw ‘strike’. The phrase is then a saying, perhaps the actual order to ram a ship on the broadside or attack from the blind side. The compressed command suggests the speed necessary to seize the opportunity. The double entendre is obvious, and seems to re-enforce an etymology for eu)ra/c from eu)ru/s in a possible sense of 'stretching wide open before us', as the sky, the sea, the road before us and the rainbow do (web address 6). The vulgar term for a prostitute begins with the adverbial term for 'on the ground'; cf. chi 73.
[11] Birds 1395. This rowing command (omega 131) is also found at Frogs 208 with a second "op". In the latter form, as the scholia see, it is the chant to keep the oars of a boat in time: "Pull! Lift! Dip!" (omega 133). At Frogs 180 it is used, as here, with a single oxytone "op", as Charon [Author, Myth]'s boat pulls up to its point of arrival (omega 132). Dunbar, in her edition of Birds, following the scholia ad loc., sees the difference. With a single "op" on a rising tone, it is the command "Lift!" to tell the rowers to leave their oars in the air as the boat arrives. As a metaphor it thus implies, "You have succeeded! Stop rowing so hard!" Here Pisetaerus urges Cinesias (kappa 1639, delta 1029) to stop reciting lines, for he has made his point!
[12] Acharnians 64. The first exclamation is one of mock despair; cf. Peace 248 (note 18 below), on seeing the dress of the Persian ambassadors. As R.A. Neil shows (see note 15), the suffix –ax has a comic effect. The second, an oath on the capital city of Media and summer palace of the kings, evokes an image of luxury. The entry replaces sxh/matos in Aristophanes with the simpler and more contemporary forh/matos. Both imply the use of clothes and jewelry to create a particular image.
[13] Acharnians 1035, omitting the words ou)d’ a)\n 'not even' that precede it in the text and are necessary for the definition that follows. The entry for this onomatopoeic word is also found in the scholia and Theodosius (79.13), but has no authority (except Favorinus, who has stri/bos) for the two words from which, or so it asserts, it is compounded. The word ou)de\ is necessary as an insertion, but makes no sense unless the negative is added before the word defined.
[14] Acharnians 1190. The entry defines the use of this cry of lament in Aristophanes as a parody or pastiche of tragic laments (cf. its later use at Sophocles, Philoctetes 743, 790). See also iota 56. Modern texts read the same phrase twice: a)ttatai\ a)ttatai/. The prefix para- is used in Byzantine literary criticism for pastiches, borrowings, allusions and parodies. Here paratragw|dei= refers to an allusion parodying tragedy. The generic term in Eustathius and elsewhere is paralale/w ‘talk beside’. In an odd twist of semantic history we today borrow 'parody' from parw|de/w 'sing beside'.
[15] Knights 1. This play opens with this amusing modification of the tragic lament (cf. Thesmophoriazusae 945; iota 56, iota 59, iota 60). R.A. Neil, in his 1901 edition, notes that the –ax termination is comic, citing also Roman comedy. It turns the tragic lament into a mock cry of distress (cf. notes 12, 18, 23, 26). In similar fashion Offenbach in a march in La belle Hélène plays with the comic rhymes les deux Ajax, double thorax, cuivres de Sax. Modern editions ignore the comment in this entry that part of the line they print is a scholiast’s marginal comment (parepigrafh/).
[16] Frogs 1073. This word is probably a sailor's melancholy chant at the oars, compounded from the element for lament –papai (pi 259, Sophocles Philoctetes 745-46, 754, 785-86, 792-93, 895, and notes 23 and 26 below) and the root rhup- for ‘grime’ acquired from constant practice and sweat (rho 300); cf. notes 17, 25 below. At rho 300, however, it is described as “a nautical adverb accompanying or cheering on the rowing (parakeleustiko\n kwphlasi/as),” and this has led the celebrated Richard Bentley (1662-1742) and most scholars since to take it as a normal chant in the daily life of a sailor, such as “Yohoho!” Here the character Aeschylus, criticizing the introduction by Euripides into tragedy of common people, “kings of rags,” says that in his day they couldn't say much else than “Rhuppapai.” We might translate, “Oh the sweat and toil!”
[17] The two phrases together form line 602 of Knights (see also epsilon 934). The cry is one of horsey despair as the chorus of horses asks which of them can row, and mimics the sailors' cry r(uppapai (notes 16, 25) by introducing the prefix for 'horse-', hipp- (but see the preceding note). J. Henderson translates “Heave, Horse!”, following the Bentley tradition.
[18] Peace 248. Trygaeus reacts with this comic exclamation to the odor of Megarian garlic added to the salad dressing that is being prepared. See also beta 5, cf. beta 6, mu 1419, tau 598, and for papai= pi 259.
[19] Peace 280. The exclamation (omicroniota 101, etc.) is accented oi)/moi, in contrast with the other exclamations in –oi (cf. Apollonius Dyscolus, On adverbs 127.19; Theognostus, Canon §958). It does not appear in Theodosius, and seems out of place in this entry. Note the idiom, hidden by crasis, e)/ti ma/la, cf. Frogs 864 and the following note.
[20] This entry has authority on how Peace 459-62 should be divided among the characters. The god Hermes instructs the chorus at 458 to hold the ropes taught and pull. He begins the rhythmic chant as he pulls, w)= ei)=a ‘Oh, eia’; the Chorus responds and pulls, ei)=a ma/la; Hermes repeats w)= ei)=a ‘Oh, eia’, and so on. P. Mazon began the modern custom of giving the Chorus the first chant, and has been followed by other editors. His arguments do not outweigh the evidence of this entry. See also epsiloniota 3.
[21] Lysistrata 294. This cry has a circumflex on each “cry” or puff, following the Canon for such monosyllabic “adverbs”. This seems inappropriate for the action of puffing a fire, and oxytone appears required. It is also used in Aristophanes for blowing at smoke or soot (Lysistrata 295, 305; Thesmophoriazusae 245). It is taken in LSJ and by some editors as an exclamation of disgust, rather than a mimicry of blowing.
[22] Wasps 209; cf. sigma 792. This cry is “for silence” (Theodosius 79.19), our “Shhhh!” (not Shoo! as in some translations). Bdelycleon wants no noise as he hunts for his net. The first two cries have been displaced from the middle of the line, before pa/lin, presumably to serve as headwords in another lexicon, from which the Suda has taken this entry.
[23] Wasps 235. These cries of indignation and despair should not be amended, as in modern texts, simply because of Bentley's authority. Cf. notes 16, 17, 26. See also pi 259, cf. alpha 2912. The entry reads a)ppapai/ oxytone, against the Canon and modern texts.
[24] Wasps 903. The meaning here depends on the accentuation. As accented in our text, au)= au)=n follows the Canon requirement for a circumflex on monosyllabic adverbs ending in –au and represents the bark of a dog ‘bow-wow’. The word in the definition, u(lakh/, would then mean ‘bark’. It more often, however, means ‘howl’. To mimic a dog’s howl it would be necessary to read the words with a different accentuation as a)u/ a)u/n ‘a-uu, a-uun’.
[25] Wasps 909. Here to\ r(upapai/ describes a whole class of people, but we cannot tell what class, except that they are certainly sailors (cf. note 16 above). The mss of Aristophanes read r(uppapa/, as elsewhere in Greek.
[26] These exclamations characterize Mnesilochus in Thesmophoriazusae. At lines 45 and 48 he mocks the bombastic style of Agathon’s servant with the comic forms bomba/c, bombalombac as asides. The verb bomba/zw was used to describe such mocking (beta 370). They derive from the onomatopoeic root for the sound of the drum or bass pipe (beta 371), for the hum or buzz of bees, mosquitos and similar insects, and for the low, rumbling or booming of thunder, of the stomach, or of ringing ears (beta 372 ff.; cf. epsilon 31, pi 1826, sigma 68, tau 164).
The cry of fear as the character runs away at 223 has a circumflex on the final syllable, following the Canon (Comm. in Dionysius Thrax 278.9). It is given by modern editors as a)ttatai/, i)attatai/, ignoring the Canon.
At line 231 he mumbles through his nose as Euripides holds his jaw tight to shave him. The circumflex accent mu= follows the Canon, but, by definition, a sound made through the nose with the mouth closed has no vowel and was undoubtedly so represented in the play.
His comic cry of alarm at line 945 on learning his punishment, here given as i)appapaia/c, has been amended by Bentley and later editors, on the grounds that it is not a lamentation, to i)attataia/c. If we choose to abandon Bentley's theory and follow the parallels in Sophocles' Philoctetes (see note 16 above), there is no reason to abandon this reading.
[27] This entry in the Suda is the solitary source for this satisfying ending of Ecclesiazusae (1180-83) -– the bleating of a billy goat, eu)a/, eu)a/ (epsilon 3335). Its authority has never, to my knowledge, been adequately recognized. The chorus has transformed itself into a Bacchic chorus of Maenads. They lift their legs in their dancing or running step (web address 7, web address 8), and utter the Bacchic cry of victory eu)oi/ (alpha 2342, epsilon 3378, epsilon 3785, epsilon 3787, with an oxytone accent, according to Theognostus §958.15-18, because the Maenads are drunk when they utter their cries!), varying it with an apparent feminine ending –ai. To their cries the bleat of the billy goat comes in a response from offstage well known in the ritual of Dionysus.
The ending makes clear the role of the young man who arrives in pursuit of a voluptuous girl at line 938 (web address 9) and is surrounded by three old women demanding sex from him before he is admitted. He is afraid they will tear him to pieces (1076) and is dragged offstage by two of them at line 1111 (web address 10). The ritual of w)mofagi/a (‘raw-meat-eating’) has begun, we now understand from the bleating offstage, and the young man has become the surrogate for the billy goat (tra/gos), whose sacrifice gave, or so the ancients believed, its name to tragedy. In this ritual the Maenads tear the billy goat to pieces, or sacrifice him ritually (web address 11 and web address 12), and devour raw flesh and blood. In Bacchae Euripides had already portrayed the Maenads tearing to pieces Pentheus in the place of the ritual goat. Will the young man be the meat at the victory dinner to which the chorus refers at 1181? We are, after all, in the Theatre of Dionysus. Aristophanes poses to the citizens of Athens, all men, the eternal question, With what victory in mind does woman seduce man?