Notes
Notes Chapter 1. The Greek Stones Speak 1. Cherwitz and Hikins 1986; Gregg 1984; Scott 1967, 1976. 2. C. Johnstone 1980, 1981, 1983; Kneupper and Anderson 1980. 3. Cole 1991a; Lentz 1989; Poulakos 1995; Robb 1983; Schiappa 2003; Vernant 1982, 1983. 4. Several thorough accounts of this development have appeared in recent decades. See, for example, Kennedy 1963, 1994; Cole 1991a; Enos 1993; Schiappa 1999; Fredal 2006. Others have examined the first glimmerings of a preconceptual rhetorical consciousness in the poetry of Homer and Hesiod. See Kirby 1992; Atwill 1998; Walker 2000; Roisman 2007; Clay 2007. 5. See Dodds 1951; Havelock 1963; Snell 1982; Guthrie 1953; Hatab 1990. 6. Ong characterizes “consciousness” as “man’s sense of presence in the human lifeworld , including the physical world and what man senses beyond” (1977, 9), and he writes that the “evolution of consciousness . . . can be understood with reference to the interior, psychic world and with reference to the exterior world. . . . Through the development of culture, a store of experience and knowledge that human beings can accumulate and hand on to succeeding generations, mankind as a whole gains more and more conscious access to and control over the cosmos and itself” (42–43). Also see Jaynes 1976, esp. 21–66, 204–22. 7. In his recent study of rhetoric’s development as a form of agonistic action in Athens, Fredal (2006) laments the tendency of “logocentrism” in historical research to eclipse “questions about bodies, practices, identity, and privilege” (4). He focuses instead on the material and geographical contexts in which rhetoric emerged during the sixth to fourth centuries b.c.e., just as Hawhee (2004) identifies rhetoric with the “bodily arts.” Such approaches to reconstructing ancient beliefs and practices are important, and they suggest that there are multiple “wisdom-traditions” to be discovered in Greek culture, including perhaps the “wisdom of the body,” the “wisdom of the household,” “women’s wisdom,” and the “wisdom of place.” Studies of such traditions would be worthwhile. My present focus, nonetheless, is on how wisdom was conceived in Greece and on how logos figured in its acquisition and practice, so I will perforce be “logocentric ” in my approach and in the evidence from which I reconstruct conceptions of wisdom. 8. On the necessity of interpretation in historiography, see White 1972–73. 226 NOTES TO PAGES 8–9 9. Borrowing terminology from Rorty (1984) and Makin (1988), Schiappa (1990b, 2003) differentiates between the “historical reconstruction” of sophistic doctrines and the “[rational] reconstruction of neo-sophistic rhetorical theory and criticism” (1990b, 193). Whereas the former aims to “recapture the past insofar as possible on its own terms” (194), the latter seeks to “draw on sophistic thinking in order to contribute to contemporary theory and practice” (195; italics in original). Although McComiskey endorses this distinction, he provides a corrective: “the practice of neosophistic appropriation does not fall into the category of [either] rational [or historical] reconstruction, but instead . . . requires its own category” (2002, 8). Thus, he writes, “assuming a clear separation between historical interpretation (with historical . . . and rational reconstruction functioning as points on a continuum) and neosophistic appropriation, I proceed . . . with caution” to pursue both objectives (11). Schiappa adopts McComiskey’s approach in the second edition of his Protagoras and Logos (2003, 65–68), substituting “contemporary” for “neosophistic” appropriation. I apply the distinction broadly to all interpretation of historical texts and thus prefer Schiappa’s terminology to McComiskey’s. 10. Schiappa 1990b, 194. Also see Schiappa 2003, 64–69; Makin 1988, 122; McComiskey 2002, 6–11. 11. See Ceccarelli 1998. She argues that texts are “polysemous”; that is, they admit of multiple readings as a result of either “resistive reading” by audiences or “strategic ambiguity” by authors. In either case, the interpreter must recognize that a plurality of meanings can legitimately be read into texts. Similarly, White observes of historical writing that “there is no such thing as a single correct view of any object under study but there are many correct views, each requiring its own style of representation” (1966, 130–31). Also see White 1972–73, esp. 300ff.; Veyne 1971, ix–x, 3–14. 12. See Ceccarelli: “ultimately, the power over textual signification remains with the author, who inserts both meanings into the text and who benefits . . . from the polysemic interpretation” (1998, 404). 13. Havelock is not without his critics. Halverson (1992), for instance, raises a number of provocative challenges to Havelock’s hypotheses about the early development of Greek and the impact on it...
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