ΑΛΛΟΘΡΟΟΙ

 

“Greek is not a clean language for an old woman.”

- Juvenal

The highlight of my week was having Doctor Alfred Vincent refer at the recent Pharos Symposium on the Greek language in Australia at LaTrobe University, to my obsession with all things Karagiozi. At the conclusion of his multifaceted and nuanced discussion on our mother tongue, delivered with surgeon-like precision in elegant Modern Greek, he warned presciently: “Use it or lose it.”

Using the language immediately buys you purchase into the Hellenic sprachbund, something that was known for instance to the ancient Gauls, who despite Asterix’s best efforts in “Asterix and the Great Fight,” first used the Greek alphabet in order to encode their languages, enabling us to discover gems such as these: «Σεγομάρος ουιλλόνεος τοούτιουϲ ναμαυσάτις ειωρου βηλησάμι σόσιν νεμητον» ("Segomaros, son of Villū, citizen of Nîmes, offered this sacred enclosure to Belesama.”). The Armenians also used the Greek alphabet before using their own and their exist in North Jordan, a number of pre-Islamic Arabic inscriptions where Greek letters have been used.

The word used by Homer in the Odyssey to denote a foreigner is: ἀλλόθροος, literally he who makes a strange sound and yet we find throughout history a multitude of strange-sounders who tuned their tongues to frequencies better understood by us, to the extent that the Hebrew term, lehityaven,   לְהִתְייַווֵּן literally meaning “to become Greek,” has been historically employed to mean “to assimilate,” in the same sense that we use the word «Τούρκεψε» in modern Greek to denote converting to Islam. Considering that according to one interpretation the Talmud, Greek is the most beautiful of languages, such a point of view is understandable, to say the least which is why when in 1947 Niccolo Tucci, surprised that Albert Einstein read the Greek classics with his sister Maja in the original exclaimed: “So you too, Herr Professor, have gone back to the Greeks,” Einstein responded:  “But I have never gone away from them. How can an educated person stay away from the Greeks? I have always been far more interested in them than in science.”

This type of attitude would account for the multitude of Greek inscriptions on the ceiling of sixteenth century French philosopher Michel de Montaigne's study, this being a time before the invention of inspirational social memes and Sports Illustrated. Thus, dangerously subversive words such as «σκέπτομαι» or such phrases from Epictetus’ Encheiridion as «Ταράσσει τοὺς ἀνθρώπους οὐ τὰ πράγματα, ἀλλὰ τὰ περὶ τῶν πραγμάτων δόγματα,» (It is not the things themselves that disturb men, but their judgements about these things,) still exist, incised upon the joists of his place of study and should be, in my humble submission, inscribed in the premises of every Greek brotherhood in Melbourne.

Montaigne of course was taught Greek by his father, who used a multi-disciplined approach comprising of games, conversation, and exercises of solitary meditation, rather than the more traditional books and rote learning, which probably explains why he included so many personal anecdotes and reflections in his essays, having no one else to speak to, for he never went to Greek school.

Roman schoolchildren, however, did go to Greek school. According to Quintillian, elite Roman children studied Greek (instructed by Greek slaves) to the extent that even when they spoke their native Latin, they had a pronounced Greek accent, which gave one a certain cachet in those times that simply does not exist among the Greek schools of today.

Learning Greek as a Roman did give one a certain gravitas in relation to stage exits. According to Suetonius, Julius Caesar’s last words before being repurposed as a pincushion were not “Et tu Brute, but rather «καὶ σὺ τέκνον» were spoken in Greek. While knowledge of this, and the fact that he wrote all of his military correspondence in Greek were lost during the Dark Ages, faint folk memories survived in Greece and were kept alive during the long centuries of Ottoman Occupation, only to be transplanted to Melbourne where the ritual phrase is routinely pronounced by the presidents of community organisations upon being ousted from power in surprise coups by their proteges and relegated to the outer darkness, where there is only wailing and venting of spleen on social media.

Perhaps that outer darkness could be illumined by George Bernard Shaw, who observed: "If in the library of your house you do not have the works of the Greek writers then you have a house with no light,” a possible sustainable alternative to carbon-emitting fossil fuels, given the price of energy these days.

Frederick the Great of Prussian who understood and read ancient Greek and spoke Modern Greek would have appreciated such sentiments. Against his abusive and authoritarian father's wishes who doubted his masculinity, he created a secret library of Greek classics. Unfortunately, all these efforts were in vain, as he was never able to visit Oakleigh. He did however, annex Silesia, invade Bohemia and participate in the partition of Poland, proving that there is no end of things that one could accomplish when one studies Greek and his face should be on posters promoting the study of the language everywhere.

Whether one, like Mehmed the Conqueror uses Greek to write random thoughts in notebooks, or learns the language, as in the case of Omar Sharif, in order to woo women, or simply because as in the case of Christopher Lee, you can’t convincingly play a James Bond villain named after a port in Piraeus, namely Scaramanga unless you have knowledge of Greek, without the immersion of the ἀλλόθροοι, our language is much diminished, as is our delight in it. This is by the way proved by a good friend who is a classical scholar and who after a good deal of thought, was able to provide me for my delectation, the following phrase: «κύνωψ ἡ ἐν χαλαρώσει,» this being the Greek for the phrase “resting bitch-face,” used to describe my countenance when being informed that there is a distinct group of Greek-Australians who transliterate the words «αγάπη μου» as “Agabie moo,” on Valentines’ Day cards and paraphernalia.

While we and our progeny was hysterical every time we open our mouths to speak Greek, the burden of expectation and fear of error weighing unbearable upon us, Virginia Woolf and erudite others like her, take a more gourmet approach, salivating over Greek as another form of lean but nonetheless authentic meat, light on the fizz, so you can slam it down fast: "Every ounce of fat has been pared off... Then, spare and bare as it is, no language can move more quickly... Then there are the words themselves which... we have made expressive to us of our own emotions, θάλασσα, θάνατος, ἄνθος... so clear, so hard, so intense, that to speak plainly yet fittingly without blurring  the outline..., Greek is the only expression. It is useless, then.. to read Greek in translation."

Just the other day I fascinating conversation with an Albanian client. She understands Greek but cannot speak it well. I partially understand Albanian but cannot speak it. Between the two languages she expressed her lament that her grandchildren, who came to this country a decade ago, refuse to speak Albanian and tell off their parents and grandparents when they address them in Albanian stating: "Why are you using that language? No one speaks it here."

Albanian nationalism is a daughter of Greek nationalism and the grandmother's concerns mirror those our community has for its language. In the end, the grandmother shrugs her shoulders and sighs: "We should have taught them Greek instead,” proving that one man’s defeat, is another’s Favorinus. That Gallo-Roman writer, in upbraiding the Corinthians for removing a statue of him, in his ‘Corinthian Oration,’ maintained he emulated not only the voice but also the mind-set, life and style of the Greeks (οὐδὲ τὴν φωνὴν μόνο ἀλλὰ καὶ τὴν γνώμην καὶ τὴν δίαιταν καὶ τὸ σχῆμα τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἐζηλωκώς). As a result, he insisted he was pre-eminent in one quality, in ‘both resembling a Greek and being one.” (Ἕλληνι δοκεῖν τε καὶ εἶναι.) Surely it takes one to know one.

Raising up a crispy burnt toast to the Greek language, Vladimir Nabokov has the last word for a discourse in which everyone seems to want in, except for us:

“On mellow hills the Greek, as you remember,

fashioned his alphabet from cranes in flight;

his arrows crossed the sunset, then the night.

Our simple skyline and a taste for timber,

the influence of hives and conifers,

reshaped the arrows and the borrowed birds.

Yes, Sylvia?

                    “Why do you speak of words

When all we want is knowledge nicely browned?”

 

Make mine buttered with a side of gluten-free Decapentasyllable, thanks.

DEAN KALIMNIOU

kalymnios@hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on 7 December 2024