By Brian Cluyse (MA student and jobstudent@EVWRIT)
“Consciously distancing myself from the literary canon has allowed me to not only broaden my perception of what everyday writing is (and was), but also made me more aware of the continuum that the Greek language forms and, quite frankly, makes me appreciate the texts that we have even more.”
For years, and even centuries, scholars have left aside all non-literary texts and have, unjustly, labelled them as ‘containing very few stylistic or literary (interesting) anomalies’, ‘hardly aesthetically pleasing’, ‘redundant’, or just ‘not interesting’ – to name only a few examples. The literary canon, as it has been composed by the Alexandrian intellectual courtyard and over the centuries been influenced by several other literary and geo-political tendencies, still makes up the main focus of the research field of Greek texts. However, to be able to understand the entire context in which the Greek civilization flourished, developed, and expanded not only its socio-economic status, but especially its language, we inherently need to take a step back and reflect upon the idea of ‘knowing the Greeks’. By only analysing that particular part of Greek texts which has its own rules of grammar, metrics, style … (the literary canon that is), we tend to lose touch with what could be considered as ‘everyday writing’: letters from family members, petitions and contracts, divorce papers, curse tablets, … These texts provide us with exclusive access to that particular part of Greek society which has been hardly addressed or covered by literary texts; mundane interaction of all sorts, which (finally) might give us a real connection to a society we have clearly lost touch with. One can hardly argue that the catharsis at the end of a tragedy, which is supposed to relieve us from our inner struggles, or the physically damaging forms of lamentation such as pulling out one’s hair, feels at all familiar to us. We must somehow dispose of the idea that the literary texts which we read in schools and universities are an actual, or rather, complete, reflection of the Greek language or society.
It is at this deadlock that non-literary texts can assist us in filling in the gap which inherently arises when studying an ancient language. They give us insight into linguistic developments (we’re able to observe the evolution of certain grammatical or semantic structures), stylometric preferences, and the perception of certain ‘genres of texts’ (e.g., the lay-out of letters and their (purely) linguistic-based distribution show considerable differences) and provide us in general with a more subtle and nuanced view. I have to humbly admit that it was only during my internship at the EWVRIT-project that I truly got to grasp all of this. Consciously distancing myself from the literary canon has allowed me to not only broaden my perception of what everyday writing is (and was), but also made me more aware of the continuum that the Greek language forms and, quite frankly, makes me appreciate the texts that we have even more. I’m therefore happily observing the fact that these texts are gradually finding their rightful place in the curriculum and are slowly gaining the respect and attention they deserve.
“We must somehow dispose of the idea that the literary texts which we read in schools and universities are an actual, or rather, complete, reflection of the Greek language or society.”
During my internship at EWVRIT, I frequently stumbled upon contracts which, much to my surprise, seemed to be much more advanced and judicially elaborate than one might expect. The key component in the analysis is their ‘formulaic’, or rather, fixed composition, combined with their accurate and elaborate descriptions. The contracts almost seem to be a succession of fixed subparts which have been simply seriated next to one another. The following scheme for a lease can be used to present the different parts of the vast majority of contracts: (The second column is the application of the first one based on a papyrus which I came across in the EWVRIT-database: BGU 12 2149 = TM 16105, https://papyri.info/ddbdp/bgu;12;2149, translation by Maehler)
| Date of the lease | (After the) consulate of Flavii Zeno and Marcianus, the clarissimi, on Thoth 22nd, 9th indiction. |
| Names of the lessor and lessee (usually with references to their origin, e.g., names of their mother, fathers …) | To Aurelia Kyra, the well-born, daughter of Abraamios blessed memory, from Hermupolis, from Aurelios Sarapion, son of Pekysios and Nonna, farmer, from the same city; |
| Statement of non-manipulation | I declare that I have leased from you voluntarily and on my own initiative for as long as you want, |
| Date of the start of the lease | <counted> from the harvest of the happy tenth indiction, |
| Description of what has been leased
(This includes elaborate sketches of the product/building via wind direction, size measurements and the purpose which the product will fulfill) |
the three Aruras belonging to you in the East (the city), <whose residents are :> in the south, Hatherios Brekon; in the north (the plots?) of the holy mother Euphemia in Cleopatris; in the east, the plots of Melas; in the west, the plots of Makarios, son of Teukes, for sowing and planting according to my choice. |
| Mention of the rent or lease and the time it will be paid (e.g., each 4th of the month) | The rent for this is fixed annually at twelve artabs wheat and five artabs beans and five artabs Arax and one and a half artabs lentils, and I will measure and deliver this rent to you in the month of Epeiph every year without delay, fresh, pure, grated, according to the Athenaion- Measure, and it will be delivered to your house in the same city by my own beasts of burden. |
| Confirmation that the lessee agrees with the contract (in two parts) | (1) The lease is definitive and guaranteed, and I agreed to it when asked. (2) (2ndhand) I, Aurelios Sarapion, son of Pekysios the above, have leased as it is written above. |
| (A scribe confirms that he has written the text because the lessee could not write) à optional | I, Aurelios Theophanes, son of Phoibammon, from Hermupolis, have signed for him at his request because he could not write. |
| (One or several witness(es) confirm(s) that the contract is valid) à optional | / |
| ‘Signature’ of the lessee | Unclear in this example |
Since I will address the similarities and differences of these contracts in relation to their modern equivalent more in depth in another blog post, I will only briefly mention some interesting observations here.
First and foremost, I’d like to point to what I’ve precedingly called the ‘statement of non-manipulation’. The fact that there has even been a mention of this sort of ‘statement’ might in itself seem somewhat unexpected. Apparently, the need was felt to ensure and officially declare that the lessee consciously, voluntarily, and without any pressure had agreed to the lease/contract. The Greek construction used for this declaration is: ὁμολογῶ ἑκουσίως καὶ αὐθαιρέτως (‘I declare voluntarily and on my own initiative’) + infinitive (most of the time this is μεμισθῶσθαι (perfect infinitive of μισθόω (to hire)). There happens to be very little variation within this (formulaic) expression with the (almost exclusively) other possibility of ὁμολογῶ ἑκουσίᾳ γνώμῃ καὶ αὐθαιρέτῳ βουλήσει καὶ ἀμετανοήτῳ καὶ ἀδόλῳ προαιρέσει (I declare, by voluntary decision and of my own will and irrevocable intention) + infinitive. The latter emphasizes even more that there is no deceit to be expected and this is even linguistically supported by the compound adjectives which contain an alpha privative: ἀ–μετανοήτῳ and ἀ–δόλῳ. One could certainly argue that the latter construction can be perceived as a tautology, emphasizing nothing more or less than the idea of non-manipulation, with γνώ̣μῃ, βουλήσει and προαιρέσει being part of the same semantic field. What makes these expressions even more interesting is their position within the contract: right after the name of the lessee and before there is even mention of that which is to be leased. This entails that the scope of the construction is to be considered as the whole of the contract, i.e., the undersigned knowingly agrees to everything that follows this declaration.
However, at the end of the contract, we find two other instances which confirm the act of non-manipulation. This confirmation is twofold. The first of the two sentences contains a (again) rather formulaic expression:
ἡ μίσθωσις κυρία καὶ βεβαία [καὶ ἐπερωτηθεὶς ὡμολόγησα]
(The lease is definitive and guaranteed, and I agreed to it when asked.)
Depending on the nature of the contract, μίσθωσις (lease) can be swapped out for any other kind of contract, e.g., πρᾶσις (sale), ἀποζυγή (divorce), μισθαποχή (receipt for wages), ἀντικαταλλαγή (exchange), … In most cases, we are to ‘add’ the ellipsis έστι to the construction, whereas in a few cases, the third person imperative ἔστω is used to express what can be considered a wish.
The second sentence, which I consider the second part of the ‘end-confirmation of non-manipulation’, has the following structure:
X ὁ προκείμενος μεμίσθωμαι ὡς πρόκειται
As is written above, I (the lessee) have engaged in the lease as mentioned above.
This last sentence is usually followed by the ‘signature’ of the lessee, although there can be a mention of witnesses between the sentence above and the signature.
The presence of a threefold confirmation containing an explicit statement that the contract has been entered ‘voluntarily and knowingly’ (as at the beginning of the contract) and that the lessee confirms everything that has been said in that contract (twice at the end), seems remarkable, especially as we in our present contracts do not find any sign of this confirmation. In modern-day contracts, and all official agreements which hold any kind of judicial value in general, there seems to be no explicit mention of a statement of non-manipulation. There is, though, one possible equivalent for the above-mentioned statements which serves the same purpose: ‘gelezen en goedgekeurd’ (‘read and approved’) —which has to be written by the lessee himself next to his signature. This formula is, however, not mandatory anymore – although there are a few cases where legislation still demands this additional confirmation for a contract to be valid (e.g., consumer credit contracts). Instead, the statement of non-manipulation has been generalised and captured in the Dutch Civil Code (DCC) in a series of different articles, the first stating the following:
Article 3: 1109 (DCC):
‘Geen toestemming is geldig, indien zij alleen door dwaling is gegeven, door geweld afgeperst of door bedrog verkregen.’
(No permission is valid if it has only been given by a miscarriage of justice, has been extorted by force or has been acquired by deceit.)
In the following articles (110-1119), the DCC continues to further explain what is considered to be ‘miscarriage of justice’, ‘force’ and ‘deceit’ and concludes that all of these acts have grounds for terminating the given contract.
This in fact makes the modern-day system even more implicit as it considers the signature of the lessee, or rather the act of signing a contract, as sufficient proof that the contracting party is aware of (1) the value of his signature as a means of complying with everything stated in the contract and (2) the fact that he therefore confirms a state of non-manipulation. This, of course, is in contrast to Greek contracts, which seem to meticulously and explicitly state (and re-state in the case of the two forms of ‘end-confirmation of non-manipulation’) that the lessee hereby agrees that he ‘by voluntary decision and of my own will and irrevocable intention’ signed this contract. One might wonder what leads Greek contracting parties to explicitly state (and especially re-state!) such formulas. A rather pragmatic approach might suggest that the multiple statements are nothing more than a way to ensure the lessee is aware of the judicial value of the contract. This suggestion, however, fails to capture the fact that a fair number of contracts mention the names (and ‘signatures’) of people who act as witnesses to the contract, which is then stated as:
X (name of the person) μαρτυρῶ τῇ παρούσῃ μισθώσει αἰτηθεὶς παρὰ τῶν ταύτην θεμένων ὡς πρόκειται
(I, confirm, having been asked to be present for this contract, that this has been done in accordance with what has been said above.)
The presence of these formulae is in itself another possible way to emphasize the idea of non-manipulation and can therefore hardly be dismissed as a simple reinforcement of said idea. Another possibility might be a more general (Greek) tendency to be precise and meticulous while compiling a contract. Or was it simply a general distrust among the ancient Greeks? While all these suggestions might cover one aspect of the truth, further research is needed to determine the precise nature of this (reoccurring) statement of non-manipulation.
As mentioned before, this is only one small aspect of Greek contracts, which already shows some similarities, and differences, with our modern-day approach. I’ve pointed out the presence of the so-called ‘statement of non-manipulation’ as a way of ensuring the legitimacy of one’s contract. While this statement includes several explicitly mentioned constructions in ancient Greek contracts, our contemporary system chose to capture it with the signature legislation.
This interesting comparison, which not only proves the existence of judicially elaborate contracts, but also of a relevant analogy with our modern times, unfortunately remains entirely unknown to those who only focus on literary texts…