29 January 2022

Thrace and Thasos

The myth says that the Phoenicians Cadmus and Thasus, in their quest for Europa, landed in the land of the Thracians (Thrace). But ancient authors disagree about the details. According to some, Cadmus and Thasus landed first in Samothrace, where the same language was spoken (Kerényi 1959). In Samothrace, Cadmus got married to Harmonia, daughter of gods Ares and Aphrodite. Thasus finished on the nearby island of Thasos, where he founded the homonymous city. Ancient and modern scholars interpreted this statement in terms of preposterous geography. They implicitly admit that the toponyms were given after the myth. We do not really know where exactly the Phoenicians came from and where they landed.

The story about the Phoenicians, Agenor, and Argiope, and their children, Phoenix, Cadmus, Cilix, and  Europa, is a story about the invention of the written word (Telephassa Argiope), and about the writing gesture (Agenor), and the related tools: the clay tablets (Phoenix), soot-pen (Cadmus), quill, painter's brush or pencil (Cilix), and watercolors (Europa) by the potters and writers (Phoenicians). If this hypothesis is right, the morphemes found in the toponyms Thrace, Thasos, and Samothrace, must also be found in words related to pottery or language.

Let us start with Θρᾴκη (Thrai; Thrace). We recognize the stem thrai, from Thrai, also in the verb θραίειν (thraiein), glossed by Hesychius as λοιδορεῖν, to abuse, revile, rebuke; but the I is reduced into an Iota subscript, and its semantic importance diminishes, in Thrai. Ignoring the subscript, we have the stem thra, typical of the verbs θράω (thraō), to set, put, lay, or stand (something) in a specified place or position, harden into a solid or semisolid state, and θραύω (thra), to break in pieces, shatter, fragment. The latter verb relates to θραῦσις (thraysis) meaning comminution, the action of reducing a material, e.g., an ore, to minute particles or fragments, metaphorically slaughter, destruction; and θραῦμα (thrayma), fragment, breakage, destruction. The letter that follows thra modulates, thus, the meaning of the stem into setting up, build-up, with small particles (thra-I) or very small particles (Iota subscript; thra-i), to breakdown (thra-Y). The word θρακτικόν (thraktikon) is glossed by Hesychius as πορευτόν (poreyton), gone over, passed, passable. The letter K (or archaic Q) specifies the place or position of the build-up. That is a narrowing, tubular stenosis like the chimney.

Apart from Thrace and its semantic relatives, the stem thrak appears in a large family of words related to ἄνθραξ (anthrax; pronounced anthraks; genitive ἄνθρακος, anthrakos), which means charcoal, coal, carbon. For instance, ἀνθρακιά (anthrakia) means burning charcoal, hot embers, black sooty ashes. In these words, thrak seems to be combined with an intriguing prefix an-, but none of the known an-like particles[1] would make clear sense or follow known rules in this context. There is no known reason for an a-, or ana-, prefix to become an- before Th. In such cases, a promising method assumes that a letter sequence is inversed to produce an opposite meaning.

The original meaning of the sequence anth- cannot be readily traced by forward reading because the stem is used as such only in three overwhelming word-families that are unrelated to one another at first glance: the cognates of ἄνθραξ (anthrax; charcoal), those of ἄνθρωπος (anthrōpos; man, mankind), and those of ἄνθος (anthos; flower). The reverse reading of anth gives thna, which is very specifically found in the words θνᾴσκω (thnaiskō; to die) and θνατός (thnatos; mortal). According to our immature, for the moment, assumption, if thna means dead, anth means up and living. This may well be true, since man is upstanding, when alive, and so is a flower. The an- prefix would, thus, have derived – in an unusual way – from the preposition ἀνά (ana), meaning on, upon, up, from bottom to top, up along, up and down, throughout, continually, amounting, proportionately; when in composition, it means to increase, strengthening, back, backward, against the stream. These notions fit well to anthrax and anthrakia, as the alive, burning coal, as opposed to Thrai, a dead, non-burning carbon in the form of minute particles (iota subscript) setting to a semisolid state on the surface of a chimney. We know that, unlike the graphite used for making modern pencils, thrax is not pure carbon, but it would be perfect for writing in ancient times. Thrace (Thrai) would be a synonym of kadmia (soot), hence the localization of Cadmus in Thrace. The Modern Greek θράκα (thraka) means cinder, and Θράκη (Thrakē) is Thrace.

Apollodorus[2] says that 'on the disappearance of Europa her father Agenor sent out his sons to find her, telling them not to return if they didn't. With them, her mother, Telephassa, and Thasus, son of Poseidon, or according to Pherecydes, of Cilix, went forth in search of her. But when, after diligent search, they could not find Europa, they gave up the thought of returning home and took up their abode in divers places. Phoenix settled in Phoenicia, Cilix settled in Cilicia, and Cadmus and Telephassa took up their abode in Thrace, and in like manner, Thasus founded a city Thasus (Thasos) in an island off Thrace and dwelt there.'

When used without the noun Argiope (inert, written word), the epithet Telephassa (the far-reaching, seen from afar; see section Agenor and Argiope) acquires a second meaning as the chimney, which is lengthy, tall, and seen from afar. The soot (Cadmus) and his mother, the chimney (Telephassa), took adobe in the land of coal (Thrax), the furnace, which is known as the coal-land (Thrace). Thasus remained just off the shore of the furnace because it was a little related tool, perhaps the fire tongs for handling and rearranging the burning coal, or the hot baked objects. Alternatively, it could be a coal shovel, a vessel to collect fire byproducts, a vessel for cooking, or a cooked terracotta vessel.

There is no common name or verb close enough to Thasos to guide interpretation. We have, however, the adjective Θάσιος (Thasios), always interpreted to mean of Thasian origin, from the isle of Thasos. A closer look into the uses of Thasios, and its feminine version Θασία (Thasia) suggests that the object was a mixing vessel. In Aristophanes' Lysistrata (411 BC) we find Θάσιον οἴνου σταμνίον[3], which has been poetically translated as Thasian wine[4] (Aristophanes 1924). Following the case agreement, however, we realize that Thasian was not the wine (οἴνου) but the jar (σταμνίον). It was a jar for mixing wine with water, according to the widely attested ancient Greek practice. The word σταμνίον (stamnion) is a diminutive of στάμνος (stamnos), an earthen jar or bottle with a narrow neck for racking off wine. In Ecclesiazusae (Assemblywomen; 391 BC), Aristophanes mentions Θάσι᾽ἀμφορείδια[5] (Θάσια ἀμφορείδια; Thasia amphorideia), little Thasian amphorae. Here, the word wine was added by the translator[6] (Aristophanes 1938). The little jars contained something ἄκρατον, unmixed, neat, pure, absolute – perhaps alcohol – to be mixed with water (κέρασον ἄκρατον). Yet, in The Acharnians (425 BC), a play where the chorus is made up of charcoal-burners, Aristophanes uses Θασία as a stirred up and mixed, mixed up sauce for frying little fish – perhaps batter.

Egg yolk provides the glutinous material required to make a permanent, fast-drying medium, which, mixed with water-soluble colored pigments, makes up a paint-like tempera. Thasios, Thasia, or Thasion, are the three genders for mixtures made by vigorous, intense, sinewy agitation in a Thasus vessel, or with a Thasus mixer, which probably originates as a tool of coal-burners. These adjectives are also attested in the context of brine or pharmaceutical preparations, pharmakon being a drug, remedy, dye, paint, color, or other chemical reagents. Of note, the archaic letter { (Theta; Th), which iconically represents a wheel or around the grid, initiates the above terms providing right away the notion of rotation or that of a grill.

References

Aristophanes. 1924. Lysistrata. Edited and translated by Benjamin Bickley Rogers. Vol. 3. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

———. 1938. "Ecclesiazusae." In The Complete Greek Drama, translated by Eugene O'Neill. Vol. 2. New York, NY: Random House.

Kerényi, Karl. 1959. The Heroes of the Greeks. Translated by H J Rose. Myth and Man. London: Thames and Hudson.

 



[1] ἀν in the Perseus project.

[4] Aristoph. Lys. 196, English translation by Benjamin Bickley Rogers.

[6] Aristoph. Eccl. 1119 in translation by Eugene O'Neill.

Sidon and Tyros

According to Herodotus’s ‘geography’, there are two important cities in Phoenicia. He names them Σιδών (Sidōn; Sidon), a name that also appears several times in Homer, and Τύρος (Tyros; Tyre), which had never been mentioned before. The name Sidon is matched, today, with the Egyptian word ḏjdwn, pronounced Tcheţţenna (Budge 1920) or zi[d]ouna (Gauthier 1929), the Phoenician ṣdn (NDj; Ṣīdūn; with Ṣ pronounced as [ts]), probably meaning fish-town (Eiselen 1907), the Biblical Ṣīḏōn (Hebrew צִידוֹן‎), Syriac Ṣidon (ܨܝܕܘܢ), Classical Arabic Ṣaydūn (صَيْدونْ) and Modern Arabic as Ṣaydā (صيدا). 

The match is far from perfect, and, indeed, when based on only three non-consecutive consonants, it may be a product of pure chance. For example, the English words sedan, sodden, sadden, and sudden have neither etymological nor semantic relation, neither with one another, nor with Sidon, aydūn, Σιδών, īḏōn, īdūn, ṣdn, or ḏjdwn. Assuming an alphabet of 24 letters used with equal frequencies, and a vocabulary of 40000 lemmas, we can expect roughly 3 words carrying the same letters by chance[1]. For a match to be credible, the matched letter sequences should be long enough to exclude chance, or the words attested in the same context, or documented to mean the same thing (be cognates). Herodotus uses Sidon in the context of Phoenicia, but Phoenicia did not exist as such in any Semitic tradition before Herodotus.

Figure 1. Cheese-making requires stirring. During industrial production of Emmental cheese, the as-yet-undrained curd is broken by rotating mixers. Artwork by Matthias Kabel (assumed based on copyright claims). Creative Commons license.

Matching Tyros (Tyre) with Akkadian Ṣurru, Phoenician Ṣūr (ṢR; rj), and Hebrew Tzór (צוֹר‎), is more problematic. The match relies on only two letters one of which is not identical. The city was apparently named after the rocky formation on which it was built since the Semitic versions of the toponym mean rock (Bikai 1992). Paradoxically, although Akkadian (cuneiform) and Proto-Semitic scripts are supposed to have been pictographic, at least in their beginning, the iconic relevance of the letters is completely neglected in the 20th-century and recent literature, which is 100% phonocentric. Nobody questions whether the Greek Τύρος and Σιδών of φοινίκη (phoinikē; Phoenicia) semantically correspond to ṢR and ṣdn of Canaan. This is taken as unquestionable fact, simply because Herodotus said so. The debate has rather been turning around the question of why the same Phoenician/Proto-Semitic letter Ṣ (j; Tsade; /t͡s/, [t͡ʃ], like in English chips) has reached Greek as an S (Σ; Sigma; /s/) for Σιδών (Sidōn; Sidon), and as a T (Tau; /t/) for Τύρος (Tyros; Tyre).

At first, it was believed that the original Phoenician pronunciation of Ṣ was different in ṢR (Ṣūr) and ṣdn (Ṣīdūn; Egyptian ḏjdwn). This hypothesis has now been generally dismissed (Woodhouse 2004). Another hypothesis was that the names of the two towns reached Greek at different times, Sidon before Homer and Tyre before Herodotus, when the Semitic pronunciation of Ṣ had already evolved (Steiner 1982). Alternatively, the Greek language had changed so that Ṣ sounded differently to the Greek ear when each toponym was introduced (Bartoněk 1961). It is now generally acknowledged that both names were translated into Greek at the same time and that the phonetic difference may be due to the phonemes that follow /ts/ (Ṣ). It takes Woodhouse 12 pages and numerous assumptions to explain this. Unfortunately, there can be no direct phonetic evidence to test hypotheses on past phonetic evolution.

Instead, the hypothesis that Herodotus tells a myth, and that both Sidōn and Tyros are Greek-made or loan words that have nothing to do with the towns of the Levant is supported by direct literary evidence. It predicts that both words have a meaning in Greek and that, together with Phoenix, Cadmus, Cilix, Europa, and her abduction by Zeus, they form coherent parts of the Phoenician myth about painting, drawing, and writing, initially on pottery and later on other supports.

The verb σίω (siō), a poetic form of σείω (seiō; compare seism), means to shake, agitate, disturb, move to and fro. It provides the stem si- of Sidōn. The second stem, -dōn is found in δώνακος (dōnakos) and (dōnaki), the genitive and dative forms of δόναξ (donax), respectively. Donax means anything made of reed, e.g., the shaft of an arrow, a shepherd's pipe, a fishing rod, or a limed reed. The related verb δονέω (doneō) is a synonym of siō, to shake, agitate, move to and fro, drive about, in commotion, shake as to make butter[2] (Liddell and Scott 1889), brandish[3] (Slater 1969). The use of Omega instead of O in Sidōn underlines the force and repetition in the action of agitating. Sidōn is, thus, explained as an agitator reed, an essential tool for the preparation of paints and inks for painting, drawing, and writing; in general, for making or restoring suspensions, emulsions, any mixtures in which particles are needed to be dispersed throughout the bulk of a fluid. The repetition of the same sememe (shake) in two graphic forms elegantly describes the forceful and repetitive action of shaking by various gestures (to and fro, rotation, up-down inversion, etc.) for mixing.

Tyros is also about agitation. The movement it denotes is not a to-and-fro shaking but an up-side-down turning. I repeatedly show that the letter Y stands for down, bottom, and R is always for top, surface. The archaic T – call it ‘Phoenician’, Ionian, Aegean, or Greek – was a cross, x or +, denoting a point or center of rotation. Cross signs, straight or oblique, surrounded by a circle ({) or not (t), are amongst the simplest glyphs. They have been found all around the Mediterranean including not only Egyptian (Petrie and Griffith 1901) and Proto-Sinaitic (Colless 2010) but also Linear A, Linear B, and much older Paleo-European scripts (Facorellis, Sofronidou, and Hourmouziadis 2014). The cluster TYR (+YR; TFr) meant point (X, +) + down (Y) + top (R). A mixing rotation may be perceived either as turning a container upside-down or as stirring, i.e., rotating a liquid so that particles from the bottom move upwards into the bulk of a fluid, or particles from the bulk of the fluid move to the surface. This method has many applications, apart from making dye suspensions. The application that most impressed the Greeks was, apparently, cheese making.

Practically all the Ancient Greek words starting with tyr- and their derivatives are about cheese. For example, τυρός (tyros) means cheese, and βούτυρον (boytyron), butter. Both products require milk agitation (Fig. 2.5.1). Cheese also requires sieving. There are, however, some significant exceptions. The word τυραννίς (tyrannis; tyranny), as used by Herodotus, means despotic rule obtained by force or fraud, hence all the negative connotations of tyranny. Hesychius glosses τύραννος (tyrannos; tyrant) as an illegal ruler. The notion of an overturn is evident in both words. Also, τύρβη (tyr) means pell-mell, disorder, confusion, tumult, rout, and is used in up-side-down contexts; τύρβασμα (tyrbasma) is trouble (e.g. agitation); τυρβάζω, (tyrbazō), to trouble, stir up, burst in turbid stream.

There is overwhelming evidence that the Greek Y is equivalent to Latin U, but Latin U also replaces Greek O, particularly in endings. The Greek -os becomes Latin -us. You might have noticed from the above that tyr- is preserved in English and other modern European languages with intact semantics even though transliteration and phonetics may vary. The Modern English verb to turn and its cognates, Middle English turnen and late Old English turnian, to rotate, revolve, Old French torner and Modern French tourner (Y > U/O > OU), to turn away or around, draw aside, cause to turn, change, transform, turn on a lathe, both from Latin tornāre, to polish, round off, fashion, turn on a lathe, and tornus, lathe, from Greek tornos (τόρνος) lathe, tool for drawing circles, that which is turned, circle, round; all are said to be from PIE root *tere-[4], to rub, turn or *terh₁-[5], to rub, rub by turning, turn, twist, bore. Other English words using TYR > TUR with similar semantics are turmoil, or uncertain etymology, and turban, turbid, turbine, turbulence, disturb, etc., obviously related to Latin turba and Greek τύρβη (tyrbē; tumult, disorder, turmoil, as above). The latter series is thought to derive from Proto-Indo-European *(s)twerH-, *(s)turH-, meaning to rotate, swirl, twirl, move around. Yet, the stem tyr- and its Latin equivalent, tur-, are found in the Egyptian twr (pronounced /tu:r/), meaning reed (Dickson 2006), which was probably used to stir. I have difficulty understanding why all those tur- words come from a non-attested vocal PEI *(s)turH-, *(s)twerH-, of *terh₁- and not from the attested written Egyptian (Afro-Asiatic) twr, or stwr (/stuːr/; keep clean, remove impurity).

The Greeks may, therefore, have borrowed the Egyptian twr (reed), transliterated it into tyr-, and used it in combination with the rigorous agitating action called Sidōn (shaking, agitating, rotating) in every workshop where agitation was an important step of the manufacturing process; for example, in a pottery plant (Phoenicia). The Semites may have borrowed the Egyptian stwr (/stuːr/; keep clean, remove impurity) to make Ṣur (Tyre) and pronounce it /tsu:r/. The English probably transformed stwr into stir and straw. If tyr is of Egyptian origin and means agitator reed, then Sidōn and Tyros are synonymous (agitator reed) but of different origins. The initials S and T would be unrelated to the Semitic Tsade of ṢR (Ṣūr) and ṣdn (Ṣīdūn) and the question of differential transliteration by the Greeks would be irrelevant. But does tyr- truly derive from the Egyptian twr? Why would the Greeks use two redundant synonyms (stirring reed, and reed) to describe Phoenicia?

Figure 2. Mohammed Abdel Rahman Abdel Raouf al-Qudwa al-Husseini, known as Yasser Arafat, wearing a keffiyeh, the national symbol of Palestine. Copyright World Economic Forum. Photo by Remy SteineggerCreative Commons license.

The odds are that Tyros is not related to the exceptions but to the main tyr-like words, τυρός (tyros), cheese and the related verb τυρεύω (tyreyō), to make cheese, to mix up cunningly. In this case, Y would still be for down, and R, still for surface, up. The T (Archaic X), however, would not denote a point of rotation but a grid, a chiasma at its broad Greek sense. The most iconic tool for cheesemaking is the strainer that separates the curds from the whey. The strainer (t > X, T for the net + w > Y for down + r > R for top, surface) would be a device having holes punched in it or made of crossed wires for separating solid matter, remaining on the surface, from a liquid dripping down. Small-scale cheesemakers use cloth. The same simple device can be used to produce lump-free clay or for removing undissolved earth from stain preparations. A strainer is used, in general, for removing large-particle impurities from powder or fluid mixtures – or large-particle goods from smaller impurities. The keep-clean sememe of the strainer brinks back the possibility that all the above stur-, tur- and tsur- words are of Egyptian origin. A fishing net, like the one depicted on a Palestinian keffiyeh (Fig. 2), is a strainer after all, and a fishing reed is an alternative solution for separating solid particles from liquid. Cheese strainers have been found throughout Europe, dating back to the Bronze Age (Kindstedt 2018). Sieving, dissolving by vigorous shaking, and straining was used by the potters to make fine clay as well as the stains for painting and glazing their vessels. These were, in my opinion, the Sidōn and Tyros of Phoenicia.

References

Bartoněk, Antonín. 1961. Vývoj Konsonantického Systému v Řeckých Dialektech. Edited by Filosofická fakulta Spisy University J.E. Purkyně v Brně. Translated by S Kostomlatsky. Opera Universitatis Purkynianae Brunensis, Facultas Philosophica. Praha: Státní pedagogické nakladatelství.

Bikai, Patricia Maynor. 1992. “The Land of Tyre.” In The Heritage of Tyre: Essays on the History, Archaeology, and Preservation of Tyre, edited by Martha Sharp Joukowsky, 13. Kendall Hunt Pub Co.

Eiselen, Frederick Carl. 1907. Sidon: A Study in Oriental History. Vol. 4. New York, NY: Columbia University Press.

Gauthier, Henri. 1929. Dictionnaire Des Noms Géographiques Contenus Dans Les Textes Hiéroglyphiques. Vol. 6. Le Caire: Société Royale de Géographie d'Egypte.

Steiner, Richard C. 1982. Affricated Ṣade in the Semitic Languages. New York, NY: American Academy for Jewish Research.


 



[1] Probability p = (1/24) * (1/24) * (1/24) * 40000.

[2] δονέω in Middle Liddell.

[3] δονέω in Slater.

[4] turn in OED.

[5] turn in Wiktionary. 

Agenor and Argiope

If Cadmus was the reed pen and Cilix the quill (see section Cadmus and Cilix), we would also understand why the myth calls them brothers. They were born out of married concepts. Their ‘father’ was Agenor (Ἀγήνωρ; Agēnōr), and their ‘mother’ Argiope (Αργιόπη; Argiopē)[1]variously surnamed Telephassa (Τηλεφᾶσσα; Tēlephassa; Τηλέφασσα; Tēlephassa), Telephaessa (Τηλεφάεσσα; Tēlephaassa), Telephaassa (Τηλεφάασσα; Tēlephaassa), or Telephe (Τηλέφη; Tēlephē). These are used either as alternative spellings of the personage’s name or, more convincingly, as her epithets. All these versions of Argiope’s epithet are easy to explain. They are derivatives of the masculine form τηλεφαής (tēlephaēs; seen from afar), from τῆλε (tēle) meaning at a distance, far off, afar, far from, and φάος (phaos), light, illumination, both emitted and received, seen. Designed as a riddle, the noun Argiope consists of argi-, from ἀργία (argia), idleness, laziness, staying idle, unemployment, doing nothing, inactivity, inertia, and -opē (-όπη), from the Homeric ὄψ (ops), meaning word, voice. The Homeric ops is probably the same word used for eye or face, cognate of ὄψομαι (opsomai), future tense of ὁράω (‘oraō) meaning to see, look, have sight, behold, perceive, observe, look out for, provide, discern. If so, the first ops and -opē would not simply mean word, voice, but rather seen, visual word, written word, as opposed to uttered and heard word, since the sememe of sight prevails in ops. Anyway, the stem argi- (idle) stresses this notion of inactivity, making Argiope the idle-word, the inert-word, the word that sits there doing nothing, spends no energy to be uttered, waiting to be seen, the written word. The epithet Telephassa (far seen) is most appropriate to this type of word. Because, unlike spoken words traveling a few meters and silenced as soon as uttered, the written word can be seen at another place, in another time.

Argiope has been built on the pattern of Calliope (Καλλιόπη; Kalliopē), literally meaning the beautiful-word, not so ‘beautiful-voice’ as it is usually translated. Calliope is the ‘muse of’ epic poetry (literally word-making; see section Poetry), eloquence, i.e., the fluent, forcible, elegant, persuasive expression and appropriate language. Another name designed on the same pattern is Antiope (Ἀντιόπη; Antiopē). Among the numerous mentions in Greek literature, Antiope appears along with The Phoenician Women (Phoinissai) and Hypsipyle, as the title of a tragedy in a trilogy by Euripides winning the second prize around 408 BC. Unfortunately, only fragments remain from that play. Apollodorus, who summarized the story[2], tells us that Antiope had a love affair with a certain Epopeus (Ἐπωπεύς; Epōpeys).

Epopeus is thought to derive from the verb ἐπωπάω (epōpaō), to observe, regard, guide, direct. For this explanation, the name is split as epi-ōps, over-eye, over-see. This may sound convincing since the common noun ἐπωπεύς (epōpeys) means inspector. But myths are riddles, and obvious solutions are never the good ones. The brain must work harder! In this case, the stem -eu-, which is extremely frequent in Greek, is neglected. Another solution is to split the name into epō-pey-s. The verb epō (ἔπω) means to say, call, name – remember, epos means word – or be about, busy oneself with. The stem pey- starts words about information and sources of information. I argued and pointed to more solid evidence that the ending -eys (-eus) means source, resource, usually of water but not only. For example, πευθώ (peythō) means tidings, news, information; πεῦσις (peysis) is inquiry, question, information; πευθήν (peythēn), inquirer, spy; πευστικός (peystikos), interrogative; πευστήριος (peystērios), of or for inquiry; etc. The word πεύκη (pey) means pine tree, but it also means anything made from pine wood and wooden writing-tablet. Pinewood is well known for its softness and is abundant around the Mediterranean. It is so soft that one can easily engrave glyphs on it using any sharp object, even the fingernail. A similar term, πευκήεις (peykēeis), means anything covered with pinewood as well as sharp, piercing. I am reluctant to suggest that the ancients could produce paper pulp, but this is one of the primary uses of pine wood today.

The sememes of saying, calling, and naming, combined with information, resource, or a pinewood tablet, make Epopeus a lexical information resource, perhaps a dictionary, an author, a writer, or any text written on a soft wooden matter. Antiope is formed with the well-known prefix anti-, over against, opposite, facing, in opposition to, one against another, equal to, like, corresponding, counter, compared with, etc., and the suffix -opē [opi], word, as in Calliope and Argiope above. It literally translates as a counterword, similar word, or equal word. In Greek, we call it ἀντιγραφή (antigraphē), literally counter writing, previously meaning reply in writing or transcription, but today, copying. In English, copy admittedly derives from French copie and Latin co + ops (genitive opis)[3], but no relation to the Homeric ops (ὄψ; word), Calliope (good-word), Argiope (idle written word), or Antiope (counter or equal word) is recognized. The reason may be our phonocentric attitude to language. Although ὄψ had both voice (word) and visual (written word) connotations, a word is thought to be primarily uttered. A sound can be immitted but not copied, properly speaking. We, therefore, prefer to resort to some untestable and un-attestable spoken PIE root *op- to which we give the meanings of work, produce, and abundance[4].

The Medieval Byzantine grammarian and poet John Tzetzes (Constantinople, 12th century AD)[5], who preserved a lot of Ancient Greek literature and scholarship (Smith 1873), links Antiope (copying) – instead of Argiope (writing) – e.i., to Agenor’s family: Cadmus (reed pen), Cilix (quill, pencil), and Phoenix (clay, paint, ink)[6]. But who, or what, is Agenor?

The common noun ἀγήνωρ (agēnōr) is glossed as proud, arrogant, brave[7], or manly, heroic, headstrong, stately, magnificent, lavish[8]. It is an epithet with both good and bad sense given, for example, to Achilles or the suitors of Penelope by Homer, the Titans by Hesiod, or to seven conspicuous, bold, Argive captains riding against Cadmus’ citadel by Aeschylus in Seven Against Thebes[9]. It has always been considered as a composite of ἀνήρ (anēr; man) with ἄγαμαι (agamai), to wonder, admire, be delighted with, be jealous of, or angry at, a person or thing. Of course, there are complex phonetic and grammatical explanations about how the vowels might have changed and how the Omega may appear from nowhere. Instead, we may consider joining the intact stems ἄγη (agē), an aorist of ἄγνυμι, to break, shiver, with a winding course, spread around, and νωρ (nōr), from νωρεῖ, to be in action or activity, operate, effect, execute, to be actively carried on, things executed. Thus, Agē-nōr (Agenor) translates as active shivering, voluntary vibration. Like the English verb to shiver, ἄγνυμι also means to break, fragment, splinter, although the words seem to have no common origin whatsoever. The literal meaning of agēnōr is a microscopic description of the action of writing. The term was later used as an epithet to macroscopically describe the glamor or, sometimes, the arrogance and envy transmitted by those few who knew how to write.

So far, we have seen the shivering and winding action of writing (Agenor) combined (married) with the fixed, long-reaching, and far-seen word (Argiope) and spread by the copy (Antiope) on pine wood-boards (Epopeus, copy’s lover, the preferred medium for copying). The marriage of writing gestures with the written word gave birth to tools like the clay tablets (Phoenix), the reed pen (Cadmus) using soot ink (cadmia), and the quill or pencil (Cilix). Cadmus’ and Cilix’ sister, Europa (Εὐρώπη; Eyrōpē; Europe) consists of ey-, and -rōpē. As I have already mentioned above and will extensively document it throughout, ey- (eu) invariably means water, well, water-source, or resource in general. The stem -rōpē is a feminine version of -rōpos, a mixture of colors[10]. Europe means watercolor. The mytheme that Zeus abducted Europa means that the watercolor was removed by the rainwater, or the pigment powder was dissolved in pure rainwater because Zeus is the rain (see section Zeus – the rain). Europa was the ultimate addition to the collection of drawing and writing tools that humans needed to design and spread long-lasting words had created. All this started in Phoenicia, the pottery workshop.

References

Smith, William, ed. 1873. “Joannes Tzetzes.” A Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology. London: John Murray.

 



[1] Pherecydes of Syros, 6th century BC, fragment 40. Hyginus, Fabulae 6, 178 in Apollodorus Library 3.1.2.

[3] copy in OED.

[4] *op- in OED.

[5] Joannes Tzetzes in the Perseus Project.

[6] Tzetzes Chiliades 7.19.

[7] ἀγήνωρ by Hesychius.

[8] ἀγήνωρ in LSJ.

[9] The ἀγάνωρ (aganōr) version in A.Th.124.

[10] ῥῶπος = μεῖγμα χρώματος, Sch.Porph.Abst.4.3 in LSJ.

Cadmus and Cilix

According to Herodotus, the Greek writing system descents from the Phoenician oneHe supposed that the letters were called Φοινικήια (Phoinikēia; Phoenician) or Καδμήια (Kadmēia; Cadmean) because the Phoenicians, and a certain Cadmus, had brought them from Phoenicia to Greece. We have seen why the letters were called Phoenician. Because they were invented by the potters, more precisely by the finishers (Phoenicians/ˈfɪnɪʃ/-). The finishers were those in charge of painting, glazing, and finishing the pots, perhaps other products too. What about the Cadmean (Ionic Greek Καδμήια; Kadmēia) letters? Where does the mythical Cadmus fit in this story? Cadmus is supposed to be the Phoenician prince, brother of Phoenix, Cilix, and Europa. The brothers left Phoenicia to find their sister, abducted by Zeus, and never returned. Cadmus finished in Boeotia, where he established the city of Thebes. All the derivatives of the name Cadmus are written with a capital initial and are left untranslated as proper names, except one, καδμεία or καδμία or καδμήα (kadmeia or kadmia or kadmēa), all glossed as cadmia, calamine.

According to the Wiktionary[1], the English and French calamine descend from Medieval Latin calamīna, a corruption of Latin cadmī̆a, from Ancient Greek καδμεία (kadmeia), after Κάδμος (Kadmos; Cadmus), the mythological founder of Thebes, of Pre-Greek origin. Today, the name cadmia is used for an oxide of zinc that collects on the sides of furnaces where copper or brass is smelted. Calamine is a medical cream or lotion formulation of zinc oxide used to treat mild itchiness, sunburns, and allergic reactions of the skin. In French, it is also used for the residue of carbon deposited in the cylinders of two-stroke engines.

I do not think that the ancients went into such detail. They didn't know zinc oxide, ferric oxide, the therapeutic potential of calamine, or anything about cadmium, a metal element of the same family as zinc occurring in most zinc ores and produced as a byproduct of zinc production. However, they must have noticed that a highly staining black powdery dirt (soot) accumulates on the walls of all furnaces and that they could use this for tracing, drawing, or writing. If you take some of this with your finger, you can smear it and stain another surface. The first who had noticed the commercial interest of soot could well have been the potters (Phoenicians) since those people ran the most prolific industry using furnaces in prehistory.

Besides, kadmia (cadmia) splits into two easily recognized stems, kad-mia. The first means jar, container, or vessel for water or wine, like in κάδος (kados), with -os being a generic ending morpheme for masculine nouns or adjectives. The second means stain, as in μιανῶ (mia), to stain, sully, dye, μίασμα (miasma), that which defiles, the taint of guilt, pollution, μιαρός (miaros), stained, defiled with blood, etc. Thus, kad-mia is deciphered as jar-stain, and it is black. Various types of carbon black have been used extensively as paint pigments since prehistoric times. All one needed for precision drawing and writing with cadmia was to formulate it into ink or paint by adding animal or plant glue (e.g., pine resin) and applying it with a reed, quill, or brush. If Cadmus (Kadmos) has any etymological relation to kadmia, it should be a material, tool, or method, not a prince.

Letters do not fall from the sky, neither do letter clusters! The middle cluster of ka-dm-ia (cadmia), dm, start words such as δμῆσις (dmēsis), a taming, δμητήρ (dmētēr), a tamer, δμώς (dmōs), an enslaved person taken in war, or δμώιος (dmōios), in a servile condition. Taming takes a wild thing, commonly an animal, from its free form and puts it in our service. Enslaving a person is essentially the same concept applied to men. In this case, cadmia is the wild and annoying soot put to the service of the potter, the artist, and the writer.

The extended middle cluster from kadmia, admi, is found in the English verb to admit, primarily meaning to allow to enter – from an outside to an inside – like the stain enters the pores of the pot, the ink enters a tubular quill, or the wild becomes domestic. Even the English tame seems to be related to the cluster dm. The early Middle English tame means in a state of subjection, physically subdued, restrained in behavior (around 1200 AD); of animals, domesticated, reclaimed from wildness; of persons, meek, gentle-natured, compliant, intent on homely or domestic activities (mid-13th century). The Old English tom, or tam, meaning domesticated, docile, would have derived from Proto-Germanic *tamaz (compare Modern Greek damazō, to tame) would have ultimately derived from PIE *deme-, to constrain, to force, to break (horses). The same root would be the source also of Sanskrit damayati, tames; Persian dam, a tame animal; Greek daman, to tame, subdue, dmētos, tame; Latin domare, to tame, subdue; Old Irish damnaim, to tie up, fasten, tame, subdue[2].

With the alternative Ancient Greek spelling, the word καδμία (kadmia) becomes καδμήα (kadmēa), and the letters of the alphabet are called καδμήια γράμματα (kadmēia grammata) – in addition to φοινικήια γράμματα (phoinikēia grammata; potters' red letters). The graphic evolution from I to H, kadmia to kadmēa, is not erratic. The change of the central cluster from dmi to dmē suggests a semantic transition from a stain in its wild state (kadmia; soot) to a tamed stain for domestic use (kadmēa; ink). The kadmēia (Cadmean; not Cadmian) epithet of the letters is, thus, quickly explained as a plural neuter adjective of kadmēa (ink), ink-letters. These are written on soft fibrous support (papyrus, paper) instead of glyphs engraved on a hard solid material (clay, stone).

The ending morpheme of kadmēia, -ēia is found as an independent word, ἤια (ēia), glossed as provisions for a journey. A journey implies a route, way, course, distance. If we were to represent a journey graphically, we would probably draw a line from one point to another. If one needs provisions for a journey, the distance is probably long. We can sense the sememes of length and line in the graphemes H (|-|) and I (|), respectively. This cluster also starts the Homeric word ἤιος (ēios), far-darting[3], as well as ἠιών (ēiōn), sea-bank, shore, riverbank, all seen as long curly lines. Ink (kadmēa) provides Cadmean (kadmēia) cursive writing arranged in long, far-reaching, curly lines, in contrast with glyphs, which must be composed of short, straight lines for practical reasons. The notion of continuity in Cadmean writing is evident in the sequence admē. This is found in ἀδμής (admēs) or ἄδμητος (admētos), both meaning unbroken, and ἀδμῆτις (admētis), virgin.

The word ἠιών (ēiōn; sea-bank, riverbank, shore) consists of H (|--|) for length, I for line, Ω (lowercase ω; Omega; Ō, ō) for curly, looping, and as always herein, N for movement (in this case, the perpetual movement of the water). Instead, ἤιος (ēios; far-darting) ends in -os, an extremely common masculine ending morpheme denoting a circular or tubular (O) object, like the male reproductive organ. Again, the letter H is for length (far), and ἰός (ios) means arrow, dart. The combination forms H-IOS, far-darting. An arrow is a thin, linear (I) object with a circular (O) cross-section. Like virtually any physical object, it can be thrown, but it does not move independently. Its movement is not mentioned in its name.

The Greek letter A is used as a prefix, ἀ- (a-), at an extremely high frequency from the times of Homer and Hesiod. As a prefix, it can have several distinct meanings[4]. The privative a- expresses want or absence; σοφός (sophos) means wise, ἄσοφος (asophos) means unwise. The copulative a- contains the idea of union[5] like the a- of ἅπας (apas), quite all, the whole, for πᾶς (pas), all. The prothetic a- is only euphonic, as in ἀστήρ (astēr) for a star. The epitatic a-, also known in English as intensive a- (Reece 2009), strengthens the force of the compound word, as in ἀτενής (atenēs), stretched, strained, from τείνω (teinō), to stretch or strain. A word like *ἀ-καδμήια (*a-kadmēia) could mean without writing, unwritten, inkless, ink-free, or a great deal of writing, extensive writing of Cadmean letters. Thus, *A-kadmēia could be an educational institution based solely on oral dialog or a scripting factory.

If you try to fluently pronounce a-kadmēia in Greek, you will say something very close to akadēmia (academia). I believe that the metathesis of ē was purely phonetic. It produced an aesthetic balance of vowels and consonants. The cluster dm did not survive in Modern Greek. But I cannot exclude it also producing some subtle semantic effect; evoking, for example, the notion of public (δήμιος; dēmios; public, belonging to the public, or at public cost). The Attic Greek Ἀκαδήμεια (Akadēmeia; Plato's Academy) uses an ε (e) to make up a long diphthong (ei) and fill, thus, the left space void by the metathesis of ē. This phenomenon is known in historical linguistics as compensatory lengthening. That semantically unnecessary e is lost or converted to a proper long vowel (a or ē) in most of the derivatives of Akadēmeia, e.g., Ἀκαδημίηθεν (Akadēmthen; from the Academy), Ἀκαδημιακός (Akadēmiakos), Ἀκαδημαϊκός (Akadēmkos), Ἀκαδημικός (Akadēmikos), or Ἀκαδήμιος (Akadēmios), all meaning Academic. The lengthening was eventually abandoned in Helenictic Common Greek Ἀκαδημία (Akadēmia; Academy).

Plato founded his Academy gymnasium in an olive grove outside Athens, where he taught his philosophy. He supposedly named it after an obscure hero, or semi-god, called Academus. We know that Plato was against writing 'for this invention will produce forgetfulness in the minds of those who learn to use it' [6], although he used it a lot. We also know that his favorite philosopher and master, Socrates, never wrote anything. His student and disciple Aristotle founded a school of philosophy called peripatetic, the 'walking-around' school. We cannot write or keep notes when we walk under the olive trees or lecture while walking on walkways. Paradoxically, Plato and Aristotle were among the most prolific writers of their time. So, I cannot tell if the initial A of Academia was privative or intensive.

The 'prince' Kadmos (Cadmus) is probably also a tubular object as its -os ending suggests. A tubular object related to the ink (kadmēa) by the stem kadm- may well be the pen. K (cursive ϰ) replaced the Archaic Greek Koppa (Ϙ, Q). The more recent letter is called Kappa (featuring an A in place of O), probably because it is an angular rather than circular letter. Q was called Koppa (or Qoppa) probably because it was round. Both letters represent a narrowing, constriction, stenosis (without the 'abnormal' connotation that the term has now taken in English). The cursive form ϰ renders the concept of a neck, )(, better. Q is like a wedding ring. It allows objects to pass through it. K may allow small objects to pass through it, but it retains larger objects. We will see many K-objects, Q-objects, I-objects, H-objects, A-objects, and objects represented by every letter throughout this quest.

The tubular K-objects of interest are, for the moment, the pen for Kadmos (Cadmus) and the chimney of the furnace for Kadmia (cadmia). Kadmos could also refer to the furnace with its characteristic constriction at its outlet. In that case, Kadmia could still represent the powdery black matter accumulating in Kadmos, the chimney. The reason I prefer the pen interpretation of Kadmos is dual. Firstly, K is followed by an A. A frequently indicates a fillable object with a bottom and finite capacity. Secondly, the ending -mos is easier to defend at this stage of the argument. Words starting with mos- are wooden objects, particularly suckers, and wood is iconic of capillary action. For example, μόσχος (moschos) is a young shoot or twig, osier, stalk, petiole, and μοσχίον (moschion), a young calf, which sucks its mother's milk. Consequently, μοσχεύω (moscheyō), means to plant a sucker, μεταμοσχεύω (metamoscheyō) to transplant. Finally, μόσυλον (mosylon) is the cinnamon which forms quills in a pretty iconic fashion.

Reed pens existed in Egypt from 1550 - 1069 BC (Bridonneau n.d.). Some suggest that they may have been around as early as 3000 BC (Mansour 2018). Quills are thought to have been invented around the 5th century AD (Ruud and George 2015). The English quill is a cognate of the Middle English quil and Middle High German kil, meaning large feather, quill. Note that in Turkish, kil means clay, but this is thought to be of a different origin (Persian گل‎‎, gel). Could the Germanic kil, quil, and cil, from Latin pencillus (painter's brush) and English pencil, be related to kilix (Greek Κίλιξ; Cilix), the brother of kadmos (Cadmus), phoinix (Phoenix) and Europa? If so, the invention of the writing quill would date not to the 5th century AD but be, at the latest, contemporaneous to the appearance of Cilix in the literature by Pherecydes of Athens, circa 465 BC (Fowler 1999), and Herodotus[7] (c. 484 – c. 425 BC), i.e., one millennium earlier. Hesychius of Alexandria, a Greek grammarian of the 5th or 6th century AD (Dickey 2007), glosses the ancient word κιλίας (kilias) as στρουθὸς ἄρσην, i.e., a big male bird, referring to mighty, male birds that walk rather than fly. Such birds, like the ostrich, turkey, rooster, peacock, etc., provide good quills for traditional calligraphy. Birds that do not fly are easier to catch and take their quills. Moreover, quills must have a specific size and robustness.

There is a different possible interpretation of Cilix that must be kept in mind. Variant spellings or transliterations include Old English cyln and cylen (kiln, oven, furnace for drying or baking), Latin culina (kitchen, cooking stove), and Old Norse kylna (stove). The stem kil also survives in the English kiln. As it will be exemplified extensively later (see section Q, QY, QYL, and QAL), the stem QYL designates a hollow, traverse object like a cylinder or a tube. QYL is a cylindroid object without a bottom and with infinite capacity. It may phonetically or graphically evolve into KYL, KUL, CYL, or CUL. The KIL version iconically differs from KUL in that it emphasizes the linearity and thinness (I) of the signified object and its small diameter relative to its length (iL; compare capillary). Nevertheless, a kiln (Cilix) with soot (Cadmus) would make a perfect semantic association (brothers). From the soot, Cadmus, we would get the soot-stain, cadmia, in the chimney.


Claims

H = significant distance, far, long, wide

Cadmus = writing tool or material, soot, black ink, reed-pen, pencil

Cilix = writing tool, quill, pencil

Academia = intensive writing, or writing-free, public school.


Oppositions

HIOS/IOS, H/I


References

Bridonneau, Catherine. n.d. "Scribe's Palette." Musée Du Louvre. Accessed February 3, 2021.

Dickey, Eleanor. 2007. Ancient Greek Scholarship. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Mansour, Nassar. 2018. How to Make a Reed Pen. The Prince's Foundation School of Traditional Arts.

Reece, Steve. 2009. Homer's Winged Words: The Evolution of Early Greek Epic Diction in the Light of Oral Theory. Leiden: Brill.


 



[1] calamine in Wiktionary

[2] tame in Online Etymology Dictionary.

[3] ἤιος in Autenrieth.

[4] ἀ- in LSJ.

[5] Α- in Autenrieth.