Psellus' little known didactic poem on grammar was published by Westerink in 1992. His edition of Pselli poemata,¹ including a string of didactica maiora, did not meet with much response. Only a quarter of a century later did Raf Van Rooy publish a paper on the history of the ancient Greek and Byzantine usage of the Greek term ‘dialect’,² and another one, in which he focused on the meaning of the word ‘dialect’ in Psellus' poem.³ There he presented an outline of the scope of the term and the oeuvre of the author, highlighted the parts of the poem which deal with dialectology, translating, interpreting and placing them into the grammatical tradition. It is this paper I am going to relate to, though not from the point of view of the history of science, but rather focusing on the poem itself, which will result in a different approach – or should I say, some shifts of emphasis?

In the manuscripts the poem was given different titles, which inform us about the circumstances of its writing. According to one of the titles the poem was commissioned by the emperor Constantine Ducas for the heir to the throne, Michael Ducas. According to the other one Psellus dedicated the poem to an earlier emperor, Constantine Monomachus. Westerink claims that Psellus rewrote the earlier version after receiving the commission and the new recensio was then dedicated to the young Michael Ducas, which explanation is supported by the fact that in the collection of rare words comprising the second part of the poem the number and arrangement of the loosely connected lines vary in the manuscripts.⁴

The first part of the two-part poem is a rather peculiar introduction to Greek grammar based on Dionysius Thrax and Byzantine scholia, while the second part is a lexicon compiled on the basis of several earlier collections of rare words. The first part of the latter is a list of words taken from a well-known lexicological tradition and set in alphabetical order. The second part is from a lexicon of a different origin in strict alphabetical order, with the beginning and the ending incomplete. The last unit is a thematic dictionary of medical terms.⁵

In the lexicon the definition of a word rarely takes up the whole line, in most of the lines there are definitions of two words. The definition of the first word goes on up to the caesura and is then followed by the second definition.

These are rather rare words, so much so that sometimes even their exact meaning is uncertain. Their origin is also uncertain at times, or the connection between the original meaning and the given meaning (mostly taken from Hesychius), like in the case of the word βάκηλος. There are also definitions which point to the first or second part of a compound, for example the definition of βουκάπη. The entry might be a verb, a noun or an adjective, and the entries are not set in strict alphabetical order.

In line 466 there is a Latin loanword (cubitum) from the corpus Hippocraticum and a regional variant or a word formed by syncope.

The meaning and the relation of the two terms in the first line is rather ambiguous. The most likely interpretation seems to be that γραμματική is the art of proper composition using regularly formed words on the basis of set grammatical rules, in other words ὀρθογραφία or ars recte scribendi, and not a systematic grammar or a theoretical work like Techné by Dionysius Thrax, but not a simple orthography in the narrow sense of the word either. We must consider the following, though: firstly, Byzantine authors often use words of similar meaning next to each other, and the more or less set phrases often tempt us to over-interpret them. Secondly, Psellus' work is written in verse, where the metre often calls for solutions that seem to mean more than they actually do.

We may wonder what the words γλῶσσαι and φωναί mean in the fourth line. Are they technical terms? If so, what do they mean? How do they relate to the dialects? Judging by another place in the poem (183–186) it seems almost certain that γλῶσσα near the word διάλεκτος is a grammatical term referring to a regional subdialect, while the word φωνή next to it is a synonym of γλῶσσα.

In the political verse the penultimate syllable of the line is always stressed, mostly paroxytonic. There are several ways to meet this requirement, for example finishing the line with a feminine noun ending in -ία or with inflected verbs. One of Psellus' frequently employed ways to end the line is using a participium perfectum Medio-Passivi, which often occurs here as well.⁶

The word κατημαξευμένη in the sixth line of the poem is not used pejoratively. It is a synonym of κοινή, and the two words often occur next to each other. The assumption that κατημαξευμένη is a technical term is supported by the fact that the phonological peculiarity discussed in Psellus' poem as a secret knowledge (114–162) does not appear in its spelling. He uses the term in two of his other didactic poems as well.⁷

The title of the poem refers to the form, first mentioning the political verse by name, then in a metaphorical reference.⁸ Writing the poem in metre served to help the easy memorization of the text, and setting the lexicon in verse and putting the words in alphabetical order had the same purpose. But what was it that helped the memorization of the first part besides the lines that are easy to remember? In other words, does Psellus' poem have a structure? What makes up the inner framework of the poem? What connects the different parts? What makes the whole poem easy to memorise?

After reading the text it is obvious that there is neither a logical framework nor an inner structure to speak of. An external organizing element might have been a text that it comments on, for example a school grammar written in prose, though there are parts in the poem, like those on dialectology, which are unusual in such texts. At any rate, the poem cannot be considered a coherent interpretation of a single grammar.

It is perhaps not too far-fetched to assume that this poem is a collection of Psellus' glosses to a manual written in prose, which he set in verse for school use. So it is not a systematic descriptive grammar, but a text that raises grammatical and poetical questions Psellus found interesting, complete with his comments.

To support this claim my first example is: “Learn the inflexion of the masculine, feminine and neuter nouns on the basis of the paradigms.”⁹ The second one: “Figures have twenty-four types, parabolé, hyperbolé and antónomasia, the rest being clear and well known for everybody.”¹⁰ These two sentences have been translated from the poem (31–32; 177–179). Standing separately within the text they do not in any way connect to the parts preceding and following them – the three tropoi are not elaborated, neither are the ‘well known’ figures. The part on metrical feet (92–100) is not an integral part of the text either. It is preceded by a part on the missing forms in the inflexions of the verbs, i.e. on a morphological question, and is followed by a phonological question concerning the classification of plosives.

In the first part of the lines (33–38) ἔγκλισις means ‘clitic’, in the second (39–46) it is ‘mood of verb’. There is no logical connection between the two grammatical categories, they are only connected by the identical Greek term. The connection with the next part is similarly the word μεσότης in the last line of the quoted part (46), which in the first case means ‘the middle voice of the verb’, the one between the active and the passive voice of the verb, while in the second case (52–57) it refers to the participle, the participium between the verb and the noun, showing the attributes of both grammatical categories.

Should the connecting of smaller parts with keywords seem too simple or too bold an idea, on a larger scale the two longer parts on conjugation are clearly separated by a rather long digression on poetics. The introduction to metrical feet (92–100) fits perfectly into this digression. And so does the medial character of voiced consonants (101–116; 140–165). And so does the demonstration of phonological changes occurring through elision on examples from Homer (117–139). Then so does the resolution of bold metaphors (166–174). Then mentioning figures of speech (177–179). Then references to the dialectal forms poets used (181–188). Then to word formation per analogiam (189–193). Then to the literary critic who judges the authenticity of poetical works (194–201). And then to the observation of usage in various genres (202–208).

It is still confusing though, that while there is an inner reference to the third and fifth part (μέρος) of the grammar in the poetical digression (181; 189), it remains unclear what the first, second and fourth parts are.

Whether or not Psellus' poem is grammar, orthography or poetics, its aim is to teach the reader about the literary language (ἡ κοινή [διάλεκτος]), to make them read the works of canonised poets and the imitation of these poets in political verse or Zwölfsilber. The word ὀρθογραφία is a reference to the written quality of literature, to the text itself. Grammar is the establishing and acquisition of the normative usage and the observation of the rules crystallised in written texts. It is Koiné, the language of Greek prose that should be used in Byzantine poetry instead of the language of the poems written in different dialectal variations.

Before discussing Koiné let us make it clear that the Greek word διάλεκτος has very little to do with dialectology or the word dialect in the modern sense. The main aim of what has been said so far is to demonstrate what preliminary knowledge was needed in Byzantium for reading poets using dialectal variations. In most Greek manuals dialectal forms were not discussed, this field of knowledge was only required for the reading of poetry.

They also noted the fact that in the language of Homer there could be found forms from various dialectoi, so they considered the Homeric language to be a mixture. Koiné was considered to be a different kind of mixture, an intersection, so to say, of different Greek dialectoi. Its most characteristic feature is that it was used not by poets but by writers of prose. There existed ordinary, accepted words which occurred in every dialectos without variation. Even among the rare words (σπάνια ὀνόματα) Psellus only mentions ones that are from canonised poets, and only in the sense that the poets used them in.

In the quotation, in which he does not mention Attic poets, the last word is controversial. The following are not suggestions for emendation, but the presentation of interpretations by copyists and the publisher, with a few comments.

1. The word μέθες occurs in two manuscripts, μάθης in one, μάθες in seven; the latter form does not exist. (It cannot be μαθές or μαθέ – metri causa.)

2. μέθες is the lectio difficilior; but in Psellus this form occurs only here, while for obvious reasons μάθε: 23, μάνθανε: 7, μαθεῖν: 10 and so forth.

3. The meaning of line 30 depends on the interpretation of the word tomé (‘section’) in line 26. According to Psellus' didactic poem on rhetoric, it could be a certain kind of word order that should be avoided.¹¹

4. The significance of the choice between μέθες/μάθε is not to be underrated. It does matter what Psellus, the respected author thinks of a poet studied at school, a poet whose estimation or reemergence in the Byzantine novel is also important.

5. Another argument for μάθε is the editing based on keywords and the fact that the authors Anacreon, Pindar and Theocritus were read as representative poets of the dialectoi in Byzantium.¹²

To sum up: In Psellus' poem Koiné is not like the other Greek dialectoi. According to the Byzantine way of thinking the most important difference is that while you can be Doric and can live in a Doric city, for example in Syracuse, you cannot be a Koinos. Where you belong, if you use Koiné, is not a polis, but Greek literature. The Byzantine concept of Koiné does not include topos, ethnos or charaktér, i.e. place, tribe and characteristic feature. The latter would be impossible as the distinctive features of the other dialectoi are relative to Koiné, which is an independent and special way of speech, or rather, writing, and differs from the usage of the Greek poets. Koiné cannot be inserted into the family tree that branches from Deucalion with a tribe and a mythological ancestor to give it a name. Byzantine authors and Psellus among them were unaware of the modern linguistic notion that a dialect can be diastratic or diachronic. This poem tells us nothing about the contemporary spoken Greek language or about dialects in the modern sense. In the part on phonology only the consonants are discussed with school-bookish questions like “which sound is stronger, pi or beta?”, while the pronunciation of vowels or diphthongs is not even mentioned.

Psellus' didactic poem will not help beginners to learn the Greek language. The introduction is only useful for those who already speak (or read in) the language or are native speakers. At the same time, the questions he raises give us some insight into the lowest grade of the reception of dialectal Greek poetry, into primary education, which can take us closer to the discovery of the internal values of Byzantine literature. Take, for example, the various manifestations of wordplay used by Byzantine grammarians and writers of didactic poems inspired by peculiar poetical phrases, like the gem ἴδε τὴν συμφωνίαν (165).