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Was there a Phanariot literary Koine in the eighteenth century?1 Peter Mackridge © The Phanariot Phactory & Peter Mackridge 2022 This is an expanded version of a keynote lecture given at the 2ο Διεθνές Συνέδριο για την Κοινή, τις κοινές και τη διαμόρφωση της κοινής νεοελληνικής organized by the University of Thessaloniki, 5-6 November 2021. Abstract The subject of this article is a variety of Greek that was used in the eighteenth century for writing literary texts by a group of Greeks who can loosely be termed “Phanariots”. First I provide a brief outline of the corpus of texts under study. I then make some brief remarks about the spoken Phanariot sociolect. I point to some of the linguistic characteristics of the variety used by the Phanariots in their literary works (what I term the Phanariot Literary Koine), and I present two linguistically typical extracts from little-known literary texts. I go on to investigate the Phanariots’ sense of their own sociolect in contrast to other regional varieties of Greek. One of the chief arguments for the existence of a Phanariot Literary Koine is that a significant number of writers who originated outside the Phanariot cultural area chose to align their literary language with grammatical and lexical features of Phanariot literature in at least some of their works. In fact, the grammatical features of the spoken Constantinople varieties (and a fortiori the Phanariot Literary Koine) are not significantly different from those of Standard Modern Greek. I show how Christopoulos’ famous 1811 division of the modern Greek language into “Mainlandish” and “Islandish” corresponds to the way in which Phanariots of the previous century viewed their own spoken variety. This is shown by the fact that when, for the purposes of parody, Phanariots contrast their own Greek (πολίτικα) with other varieties of Greek (εξωμερίτικα) in literary texts, the “outlandish” features that they highlight are almost always characteristic of varieties spoken on Greek islands (whether the Aegean islands plus Crete and Cyprus, or the Heptanese). In this connection I make some brief general remarks about the differences between the Phanariot Literary Koine and the two chief sets of literary varieties that pre-existed and co-existed with it, namely the language of Cretan literature in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and the language of Heptanesian literature in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. I conclude with a counterfactual and non-teleological view of Greek linguistic history by suggesting that the Phanariot Literary Koine was a rich, expressive and versatile variety that might potentially have become the basis of the written language of the independent Greek state had it not been for the negative ideological attitudes towards the Phanariots held by Adamantios Korais and others. * Much scholarly attention has been devoted to the Greek language controversy, and to the arguments put forward by the supporters of the various varieties of Greek that were proposed as the national language. By contrast, very little attention has been devoted to the varieties of 1 I am grateful to Spiros Moschonas for reading this expanded version of my lecture and for providing me with valuable advice. Needless to say, all defects in my text are entirely my own responsibility. 1 Greek that were being used in practice for literary and administrative purposes in the eighteenth century, before the rise of Greek nationalism. The period covered by Kriaras’ dictionary of medieval vernacular Greek ends in 1669. Some eighteenth-century linguistic examples are given in the Cambridge Grammar of Medieval and Early Modern Greek (Holton et al. 2019); nevertheless, from a linguistic as well as a literary point of view the Greek eighteenth century remains largely a terra incognita. I would like to add in passing that in my view the eighteenth century is part of the Early Modern period as far as the Greek language is concerned.2 My purpose in this article is to make some observations about a variety of Greek that was used for writing literary texts in the eighteenth century by a group of Greeks who can loosely be termed “Phanariots”. Strictly speaking, the Phanariots consisted of a small number of elite Greek-speaking Christian families who lived near the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate of Constantinople in the quarter of Istanbul known as Phanari in Greek and Fener in Turkish. Between the late seventeenth and the early nineteenth centuries some members of these families came to occupy crucial and lucrative posts in the administration of the Ottoman Empire, particularly those of (a) the Grand Dragoman, that is, Chief Translator and Interpreter, who acted as the Sultan’s Secretary of State for European Affairs, and (b) the governors of the two Danubian principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia (with their capitals at Bucharest and Iaşi in today’s Romania), which were under Ottoman suzerainty but were granted the privilege of being governed by Christian hospodars or princes (also known as voivodes) who were appointed by the Sultan. However, in this talk I’m mainly using the term “Phanariot” in a looser and wider sense, which encompasses not only the members of these elite families but all those Greekspeaking Christians who worked for and with them, including the secretaries, translators and other officials who were employed in the Ottoman translation and interpretation bureau and in the princely courts of the Danubian principalities, as well as those employed by the Patriarchate, including the patriarchs themselves, who tended to gain their position with the help of members of the Phanariot elite. Some members of these Phanariot circles managed to secure sufficient leisure for themselves that they could indulge in literary composition. Most of the literary works they wrote did not appear in print at the time and have been published for the first time in the last twenty years or so. For this reason these texts are little known, even among experts in Greek literature. I shall argue that in these literary texts the Phanariots had developed a rich, lively and versatile mode of expression, rooted in the everyday spoken language of the Constantinopolitan Greek elite, which could potentially have formed the basis of the national language in the independent Greek state. The chief reasons why this didn’t happen were (first) that most of these texts were not widely known outside Constantinople, Bucharest and Iaşi, and (second) that there was considerable prejudice against the Phanariots on the part of emerging Greek nationalists, who perceived them as being collaborators of the Turks in the oppressive Ottoman regime. My three chief aims are the following: 1. To make some brief remarks about the spoken Phanariot sociolect. 2. To go into much greater detail about the kind of Greek that the Phanariots used in their literary works. I suggest that the “Early Modern” period be extended to at least 1800, as Kaplanis (2009) has argued. After all, historians of Europe tend to call the period 1400/1500 to c. 1800 “the early modern period”, the corresponding period for the Greek world being 1453-1821. 2 2 3. To investigate the Phanariots’ sense of their own sociolect in contrast to other regional varieties of Greek. In addition, I have two secondary aims: 4. To look at the Phanariot Literary Koine vis-à-vis other possible Greek regional literary Koines during the eighteenth century. 5. To provide a few examples of negative attitudes towards the Phanariots and their language. 1. The Phanariot sociolect I’ll begin this section with a quotation from a dialectologist: [The Greek spoken in Constantinople was] «αυτό που λέμε σήμερα «κοινή νεοελληνική» με ελάχιστους διαλεκτισμούς, όπως το συντακτικό σχήμα τον (την) + ρήμα αντί: του (της) + ρήμα...» (“what we call today ‘common Modern Greek’ with very few dialect features such as the syntactic construction τον (την) + verb instead of του (της) + verb...”), i.e. using the accusative of the weak pronoun instead of the genitive for the indirect object. (Kontosopoulos 1994: 112) The spoken “Constantinople Koine” (Tzitzilis 2016: 438)3 was probably a mixture of local features modified by varieties spoken by incomers to the city. I’m not in a position to say much about the regional origins of Constantinople speech, that is, the Greek dialects spoken in the European and Asian hinterlands of Thrace and Bithynia (see map: Constantinople is marked as Byzantium; Thrace is the region immediately to the west of the city, Bithynia to the east and south). The dialects of Bithynia are particularly underThe concept “Constantinople Koine” does not seem to be frequently mentioned in the literature. Liosis (2016: 121) mentions (in English) “the Koine of Constantinople” once in passing. 3 3 studied (Konstantinidou 2005: 119). For the dialects of both of these regions we will need to await Christos Tzitzilis’ study in his forthcoming two-volume edited work on the Greek dialects. I take it that Constantinopolitan forms such as the perfective non-past διω and the imperative διες of the verb βλέπω ‘I see’ were traditional regional features that Constantinople shared with Thrace and Bithynia (where they were certainly used), and that they did not spread outwards from the capital to the periphery. As for newcomers to Constantinople, they originated from throughout the Greekspeaking world, from the Ionian Islands in the West to Anatolia in the East. There must have been a certain amount of linguistic variation within the Greek speech of Constantinople, between the inhabitants of different neighbourhoods of the city, between people of different social classes and educational levels, and between men and women.4 It is probable that certain areas of Constantinople, where Greek-speakers from particular regions of the Greek-speaking world tended to settle together in certain neighbourhoods, were characterized by linguistic features that their inhabitants had brought with them from their place of origin. Different varieties of Greek were no doubt spoken by different classes in Constantinople, but Phanariot writers were among the most highly educated Greek-speakers of their time, and there are very few reliable examples of linguistic varieties spoken by lowstatus, non-elite Constantinople Greeks in the literature. There is also a gendered aspect to the Phanariot Literary Koine. Katartzis, writing in the 1780s, recommends the language spoken by Constantinople women because, he claims, their spoken language was not mixed with “the idiom of the school” (i.e. Ancient Greek), or with foreign languages.5 2. The Phanariot Literary Koine The corpus The literary corpus consists of approximately the following texts: • • • • • 31 comedies (8 original, 22 translated from or via Italian and 1 from German), all but one of them in prose; 3 non-comic dramas translated from German (in prose); 12 short stories and novellas in prose (6 original and 6 translated and adapted from French) one novel (Don Quixote, translated via Italian) four extensive narrative and miscellaneous poems (two of them several thousand lines long) and 4 Iraklis Millas (personal communication) reports that when he was growing up in Istanbul after the Second World War there were differences in speech among different classes and educational levels, and among people living in different neighbourhoods. 5 Katartzis 1970: 12. Katartzis doesn’t make it clear whether by “foreign languages” he means Turkish or western European languages. It’s worth mentioning, though, that, about 30 years earlier than Katartzis, Momarts defends the language in which he wrote his Vosporomachia (Momarts 1766: 4-5) by claiming that it is the everyday language of Constantinople women, who don’t try to use Ancient Greek and who do use a lot of foreign words (by which he means loanwords from Turkish). The two characters who speak throughout Momarts’ long poem are women and, especially given that he wrote the poem for his two daughters in memory of their late mother, there is no trace of any attempt to ridicule the language of women. 4 • several hundred short lyric poems, most of them composed to be sung to Ottoman musical modes. Many of these texts are anonymous and undated. Many of them, as I’ve already said, were not published until much later than their composition. There is however one genre that reached a significantly large and geographically widespread audience at the time: this consists of the songs (the last of the genres listed above), which were not only copied in numerous manuscripts but circulated orally. The oldest surviving manuscript of Phanariot songs (BAR 927), dating from about 1770, is written in the hand of Petros the Peloponnesian, otherwise known as Petros the Lampadarios, who served as a leading cantor (ψάλτης) at the Patriarchate of Constantinople. The fact that someone of Peloponnesian origin was collecting and recording (and in some cases composing) Phanariot songs (in his case both the lyrics and the melodies) is an example of a person originating from outside Phanariot circles who contributed to the use and diffusion of the Phanariot Literary Koine – a phenomenon I will deal with later in my text. I need to emphasize that many of the texts translated into Greek from other languages are not word-for-word renditions; on the contrary, they are radical re-creations in the Greek language which make frequent references to the Greek and Ottoman cultural milieu. This literary corpus is supplemented, for comparative and contrastive purposes, by a substantial corpus of non-literary texts which I have consulted. In the eighteenth century there was no state in which Greek was the most widely spoken language. However, Greek became a chancellery language in Wallachia and Moldavia, and some of the official correspondence of the hospodars of those provinces is available in published form (Hurmuzaki 1909 and 1936). In addition, we also have the journals or diaries of a small number of Phanariot officials, which record both official events (particularly the res gestae of the hospodars) and the day-to-day personal experiences of the writers. The first Greek legal codes of modern times were produced by Phanariots: in Wallachia in 1780, in Moldavia in 1816-17, and again in Wallachia in 1818 (this last one was drafted – at least in part – by the well-known Phanariot poet Athanasios Christopoulos).6 Those who drafted these legal texts created many indispensable legal terms in Modern Greek before the outbreak of the Greek Revolution.7 Compared with literary texts produced in Phanariot circles, the non-literary texts contain a larger proportion of grammatical archaisms. However, the various Greek-speakers (aptly known as γραμματικοί) who staffed the secretariats of the Danubian principalities and the translation and interpreting service of the Ottoman Porte and who included a number of literary writers, were not only those who created the Greek chancellery language of the time but also probably contributed significantly to the development of the Phanariot Literary Koine. What was not the Phanariot Literary Koine? I would like to dispel some preconceptions about the language of Phanariot literature. Scholars of Greek language and literature tend to associate the “Phanariot language” of the 6 Syntagmation 1780, Kodix 1816-17 (see also Pinax 1817), Nomothesia 1818. Even such a common modern word as οικογένεια (‘family’) perhaps appeared for the first time in the Civil Code of Moldavia (Pinax 1817: 68), where it is glossed as “πατριά, φαμιλία, Familia”. Koumanoudis (1900) dates the first occurrence of this word to 1819. 7 5 pre-Revolutionary period with either Dimitrios Katartzis in the late eighteenth century or Panagiotis Kodrikas in the early nineteenth. Both of these men made significant contributions to the Greek language controversy. By contrast, I want to focus on the language used by authors who do not explicitly talk about the variety they use because they did not participate in linguistic controversies. Katartzis claimed that the variety he used and promoted in his writings in the 1780s was close to the everyday language spoken by the Greek inhabitants of Constantinople (especially the women, as I have already mentioned). He attempted to create an ideal, standardized variety out of a spoken language that included a great deal of internal phonological and morphological variation. We should, however, bear in mind Dimaras’ words, that «η σχέση του με την λογοτεχνία δεν φαίνεται να είταν [...] ιδιαζόντως στενή» (“his relations with literature, as it emerges from his work, was not particularly close”; Dimaras in Katartzis 1974: lxxix). Compared with the language of Phanariot literary texts, the variety promoted by Katartzis was more regularized – in the direction of what would later come to be called demotic. For example, where a more colloquial and a more learnèd alternative co-existed, he would normally choose the more colloquial. He went so far as to write an apostrophe in the place of a final vowel that was not normally pronounced when immediately followed by another vowel. This is somewhat equivalent to using forms such as I’m not and I don’t in scholarly written discourse in English. Kodrikas, on the other hand, like the decidedly anti-Phanariot Adamantios Korais, wrote in and promoted a variety that attempted to standardize in the direction of the Koine of Hellenistic times, preferring the learnèd to the colloquial. The Phanariot Literary Koine stands somewhere between these two poles.8 Because Kodrikas’ 1818 book-length contribution to the Greek language controversy is entitled Μελέτη της Κοινής Ελληνικής Διαλέκτου (Study of the Common Greek Dialect/Language), some scholars have described Kodrikas’ variety as the “Phanariot Koine”.9 But the modern Koine promoted by Kodrikas is supposedly based on the language used by ecclesiastical and political leaders when they were issuing public statements in their official capacity, while the literary Koine is a less formal variety which may sometimes have been used by the same church and political leaders, but in their literary texts rather than in their official pronouncements. Moreover, this literary variety As early as 1794 Kodrikas, in his preface to his translation of Fontenelle’s Entretiens sur la pluralité des mondes (1794: xviii-xxii), expressed his opposition to Katartzis’ advice that authors should simply use ‘the Romaic of the metropolis’. Kodrikas argued (a) that spoken Romaic was a ‘monstrous mixture’, (b) that ‘every part and every parish of this city has a different mode of expression’, (c) that the individual members of the Constantinople elite differed from each other in their mode of speech (‘one inclines more towards Hellenic [ancient Greek], another more towards Turkish’), and (d) that the speech of women differs greatly from that of men. Further down (xxiv) Kodrikas hopes and wishes that ‘a common style’ will be created. In this text Kodrikas holds up the language variety used in writing by Nikolaos Karatzas (hopsodar of Wallachia 1782-3; died 1784) as a model (xxv). For Kodrikas’ anti-Katartzis’ views and for a sample of the language used in Karatzas’ unpublished translation of Voltaire’s 1756 Essay [sic] sur l’histoire générale, et sur les moeurs et l’esprit des Nations, depuis Charlemagne jusqu’à nos jours see Kokkonas (2004: 12, 14), who argues that Karatzas’ language follows the “middle road” later espoused by Korais. Kokkonas (2009: 37) places Kodrikas in “the same camp” as Korais with respect to his practical language use. For the text of a long and fascinating private letter about a family matter written by Karatzas to his fellow hospodar, Alexandros Mavrokordatos (Delibey) of Moldavia, dating from 1782 see Hurmuzaki 1936: 224-229. In this letter plentiful Greek archaisms rub shoulders with an even larger number of Turkish loans, and even entire Turkish phrases. See the Appendix at the end of my text for some information about the historical context of Katartzis’ and Kodrikas’ views. 9 On the Internet the Greek phrase “φαναριώτικη Κοινή” appears in Kechagioglou (2009: 388), Mackridge (2018b) and in Katsigiannis (2017: 309). Katsigiannis claims that Kodrikas promotes «το γλωσσικό και πολιτισμικό παράδειγμα της φαναριώτικης κουλτούρας» (“the linguistic and cultural paradigm of Phanariot culture”). Katsigiannis ignores the fact that the kinds of literary works he enumerates on p. 310 (works of 18 thcentury Phanariot literature) are not written in the language promoted by Kodrikas. 8 6 was also used by a wider spectrum of authors who lived and worked in the Phanariot cultural area. When studying the Phanariot Literary Koine of the eighteenth century we should also not be misled by Zisis Daoutis’ anthology of Phanariot songs and Dionysios Foteinos’ New Erotokritos, which were both published in the same year as Kodrikas’ manifesto (1818); they are symptomatic of the decline of the Phanariot Literary Koine under the pressure of linguistic nationalism. Daoutis explicitly states that he has “corrected” the language of the Phanariot songs he anthologizes, and indeed he attempts to replace most of the loanwords found in the genuine song texts with Hellenic equivalents, while Foteinos, who paraphrased Kornaros’ seventeenth-century romance Erotokritos from Cretan dialect into a language suitable for a Phanariot audience, was in trying to make the language of the poem palatable to the Greek readership of his time – on the eve of the Greek Revolution – rather than to a specific geographical milieu, i.e. Constantinople and Bucharest. The best-known author who did write in the Phanariot Literary Koine is probably Athanasios Christopoulos, whose poems, first published under the title Λυρικά in 1811, are written in a variety based on the spoken language of Constantinople but less “demoticized” than the variety promoted by Katartzis. So what was the Phanariot Literary Koine? Unlike the Hellenistic Koine, we cannot see the Phanariot Literary Koine teleologically as a stage in the historical development of Greek. I’m using the term “Literary Koine” not so much in the sense of a variety that necessarily has a wide geographical spread, but more in the sense of a handy linguistic code that could be used for the composition of literary texts that were intended for the entertainment of the writer and reader rather than primarily for instructing the reader or for displaying the erudition of the writer. In other words, I’m using the term “Phanariot Literary Koine” to refer to a stylistic level of a regional variety. The Phanariot Literary Koine can thus be distinguished both from varieties commonly used in other regions at the same time and from the use of Ancient Greek and other “High” varieties in texts written in the same places. For this reason I exclude from my study texts written in an approximation of Ancient Greek, and I only examine the use of other local varieties when they are presented by Phanariot authors as being different from their own. Despite what I have said about class differences within the spoken language of Constantinople, high-status characters in satirical comedies are sometimes depicted as using low-life slang when the author wishes to show that they are no better than common criminals (e.g. using the slang word μπάτσοι to refer to representatives of the Ottoman authorities [Soutsos 1995: 102]). As for linguistic differences according to gender, unfortunately we possess very few literary texts that are known to have been written by Phanariot women; however, in some of the love songs the gender of the speaker is feminine while the beloved is masculine, and it’s likely that some of these songs were written by women.10 The Phanariots were a polyglot community, and the fact that many of them were employed as translators and interpreters gave them a sophisticated linguistic sense. Besides speaking and writing Greek, they needed, for professional purposes, to know both colloquial spoken Turkish and (to some extent) official Ottoman Turkish, plus French and/or Italian. If 10 However, in the only published literary that we know to have been written by a woman, a love song composed by Mariora Rizou Tyaniti, the words are placed in the mouth of a man speaking about a woman! For the text and its context see Kodrikas 1991: 121. 7 they were living and working in the Danubian provinces, it was obviously an advantage for them to know some Romanian, and indeed Romanian loanwords are occasionally used in Phanariot literature. Phanariots learned a substantial amount of Ancient Greek as well as Turkish, which meant that they were able to borrow words ad hoc from both of these languages and to use them in their literary texts even though these words or forms may not necessarily have been a normal part of everyday Constantinople Greek speech. Τhey were aware of the distinction between ρωμαίκα [sic] (meaning Modern Greek; SMG [Standard Modern Greek] ρωμαίικα, English Romaic) and ελληνικά (Hellenic, meaning Ancient Greek) – a distinction that became blurred in more modern times, once ελληνικά came to be used to denote both ancient and modern varieties. Phanariot writers were not always afraid of using the usually pejorative word μιξοβάρβαρος ‘mixed-barbarian’ (= a form of Greek mixed with so-called “barbarisms”) in a positive way, as for instance in a scene in the translation of a comedy by Goldoni where a nobleman instructs his secretary to avoid highfalutin language when writing an official letter: «γράφε μιξοβάρβαρα και χωρίς ελληνισμόν», he says (Goldoni 1988: 146; ‘write in mixedbarbarian and without Hellenism [= archaism]’). It’s telling that Goldoni’s original phrase is “Scrivete in buon italiano, senza cercar lo stile cruschevole” ‘Write in good Italian [the equivalent of what we call “plain English”] without seeking out the style of the Crusca dictionary’; in other words, avoid using pedantic literary archaisms.11 The Phanariots were aware that they were writing in ρωμαίκα, but they felt themselves at liberty to employ linguistic material from ελληνικά and τουρκικά for special effect. Borrowings from ελληνικά usually consist of words or grammatical forms from the Hellenistic Koine or from ecclesiastical Greek. Lexical borrowings from Turkish could be both colloquialisms and formal terms (especially those used in judicial and administrative milieux). Also the texts often contain two or more synonyms linked by και, i.e. a loanword from Turkish and a native Greek term, e.g. «Πρέπει εγώ, εις το εξής, να λείπ[ω] από σοχπέτια / και από συναναστροφές» ‘From now on I must absent myself from social gatherings’ (Gennadeios 725: f. 62r) (T sohbet; συναναστροφή is attested from Hellenistic times onwards). As I’ve already indicated, a large proportion of Phanariot literature was written in prose. Before the Phanariots, most of the Greek literary texts written in the vernacular were in rhymed verse. This was the case in the literature of Crete and the Heptanese/Ionian Islands; and Heptanesian dramatists continued to write their works in rhymed verse throughout the eighteenth century. The Phanariots broke with this tradition; almost all of their dramatic texts – at least the comedies – were written in prose. Because of their oral character and their use of prose, Phanariot comedies are valuable sources of linguistic information, including a wealth of exclamations, baby-talk and the occasional obscenity. But there was also some prose fiction: for instance, as I’ve mentioned, a translation of Don Quixote, which its modern editors suppose was written in Bucharest during the 1720s or a little later, using what they describe as «μη αρχαΐζουσα φαναριώτικη γραπτή» (“a nonarchaizing Phanariot written language”: Kachagioglou and Tabaki in Cervantes 2007: *149) and the «συντηρητική ‘δημώδης’ των Φαναριωτών της εποχής» (“conservative vernacular of the Phanariots of that time”: ibid., *136). The editors go on to say that the language of this translation «δεν φαίνεται να διέπεται από μέριμνα ‘ξενηλασίας’» (“doesn’t appear to be dominated by a care for expelling foreign words”: ibid., *135). They observe that it includes some loans from Romanian and displays «σαφή ίχνη της βορειοελληνικής (και 11 Thanks to Arturo Tosi for his elucidation of this Italian phrase. 8 κωνσταντινουπολίτικης) ‘κοινής’» (“distinct traces of the northern Greek (and Constantinopolitan) ‘Koine’”: ibid., *136). In general, Phanariot literary texts were aimed at a sophisticated audience, and therefore their style is more urban, more urbane, more artfully constructed and less naïve than that of the λαϊκά αναγνώσματα (popular chapbooks) of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Factors that suggest the existence of a Phanariot literary Koine: • • • • Phanariot Greek was the language of the political, financial and cultural elite of the Orthodox Christian inhabitants of Constantinople, which was both the capital of the Ottoman Empire and the seat of the Ecumenical Patriarchate. The prestige of this variety led to the use of a similar variety in texts by writers who were not from Phanariot families and were not even from Constantinople. Consciousness (on the part of both Constantinopolitans and others) of differences between πολίτικα (Constantinople Greek) and other varieties; this goes together with the parodic use of features that are supposed to be characteristic of other varieties (especially those from the Greek islands); the tacit rejection of already existing Cretan and Heptanesian literary varieties. I’ll amplify each of these points later, but first let’s first look at some of the linguistic characteristics of the Phanariot Literary Koine. Linguistic characteristics of the Phanariot Literary Koine The Phanariot Literary Koine was certainly not a standardized language: it was a norm rather than a standard. There are what one might call hard-core and soft-core Phanariot texts according to the proportion of specifically local features (such as να διω and διες) and of loanwords and loan translations from Turkish that they contain. Indeed, some texts may be linguistically indistinguishable from texts originating from other areas. This variation may depend on whether the author was writing for fellow-Phanariots or for a geographically wider readership. We may also note that more or less the same spelling conventions are used by Phanariot writers as by other writers of their time and earlier. The chief difference is that many manuscripts of Phanariot texts use special diacritics to represent certain consonant sounds ([ʃ] [modern Turkish <ş>] as well as [b] and [d]) that cannot be unambiguously represented by letters of the Greek alphabet. The fact that [ʃ] is specifically represented in writing is an indication that it was thus pronounced in loanwords from Turkish even when speakers were speaking Greek.12 Most of the grammatical features of the Phanariot sociolect (and a fortiori the Phanariot Literary Koine) are not significantly different from those of Standard Modern Greek. The language of Phanariot literary texts is not characterized by as many marked local phonological, morphological and lexical features as the language of sixteenth- to seventeenthcentury Cretan poetry. It would therefore have been more readily comprehensible to a panHellenic audience than the varieties used in Cretan Renaissance poetry. Among the characteristic grammatical features of Phanariot literary Koine are the following: 12 It also indicates deliberate code-switching, as Spiros Moschonas has pointed out to me. 9 General: • • • • 2nd person past ending -ετε (as in Thracobithynian and Heptanesian, but formerly more or less universal in all Greek-speaking areas [but see Holton et al. 2019: 15381539]), not -ατε as in SMG; Future tenses are frequently formed with inflected θέλω + the uninflected (non-finite) form, the latter being either perfective (θέλομεν την δώσει (Kallinikos 2004: 345) ‘we will give it’) or imperfective (θέλω σε ευχαριστεί εις όλην την ζωήν μου (BAR 927: f. 60v) ‘I shall go on thanking you for the whole of my life’);13 however, in epistemic expressions uninflected θέλει + finite verb form is used: θέλει σας είπα (Goldoni 1988: 178) ‘I must have told you’:14 alternatively, futurity can be expressed by θενα or θα + finite verb; conditional expressions: in either protasis or apodosis (or both), widespread use of the inflected past form of θέλω + the non-finite form (meaning both ‘would do’ and ‘would have done’) where SMG has θα + imperfect, e.g. Ανίσως [...] ήθελα συναντήσει [...] κανένα γίγαντα, [...] δεν ήτον καλόν [...]; (Cervantes 2007: 2) ‘if I [had] met some giant, [...], would it not be/have been good […]?’, ποίος άλλος ήθελε το υποφέρει; (Soutsos 1995: 9) ‘who else would suffer/have suffered it?’ (cf. Tzitzilis 2016: 444-445); absence of present perfect tense formed with the present tense of έχω + non-finite form, as there is in SMG (το έχω δώσει ‘I have given it’; this lack was more or less universal at the time [but see Holton et al. 2019: 1840-1841]); either the perfective past is used, or a periphrastic perfect formed with έχω + p.p.p.: μ’ έχ[ει] αποβαλμένον (Sofianos 2011: 121) ‘she’s rejected me’; however, είχα (the past of έχω) is used with the non-finite form in certain types of counterfactual expression: να μην είχα σε τύχει (Melpomeni 2007: 202 [no. 184b]) ‘if only I hadn’t happened upon you’. Regional: • the fem. pl. form of the definite article & weak personal pronoun is τες, not SMG τις; Katartzis is exceptional in using both τες and τις (which he spells ταῖς and τῇς), apparently at random, both in his grammar and in his other writings (e.g. Katartzis 1970: 224); • personal pronoun: masc. & fem. acc. sg. forms are often extended with -α (αλίμονον σε κείνονα οπού... (Momarts 1766: 63) ‘woe betide him who…’, περιεργάσου τηνα (Goldoni 1988: 235) ‘watch her carefully’; also Katartzis 1970 frequently (generally northern Greek, but also Kios in Bithynia); • weak pronoun: use of accusative to express indirect object (as in Thrace and Bithynia: Tzitzilis 2016: 443), whereas in southern Greece, in most of the islands and in parts of Epirus, as well as in SMG, the indirect object is expressed with the genitive, thus με το έδωσε (‘s/he gave it to me’, with both objects in acc.); but note της τα δίδει (in a stage direction: Saganaki 2011: f. 22v;) ‘he gives it to him’, where both of the objects are 3rd-person, of which the indirect object is in the genitive but is in the feminine 13 The same pattern is normal in Mormoris 2012. The author was from the island of Kythera and had no connection with Phanariot culture. He also occasionally uses θα. 14 Cf. θέλει το ’μαθες ‘you must have heard about it’ in in a letter originating from Epirus (Archeio 2007: xx). 10 • • • • • • • • • • • • • • form even though the person referred to is male; also Kios: Konstantinidou 2009: 347); verbs in -εύω (δουλεύω ‘work’), as in AG [Ancient Greek] and SMG, not -εύγω, which was used in Thrace and Bithynia (Tzitzilis 2016: 446) as well as in Crete and elsewhere; AG -ομεν (βάζομεν ‘we put’) is usually preferred to βάζουμε (Katartzis & SMG);15 avoidance (though not complete absence) of the 3rd pl. endings -ουσι (non-past: AG and regional) and -ασι (past: regional), and preference for forms such as άρχισαν ‘they began’ rather than the alternative forms αρχίσαν και αρχίσανε, even in poetry; use of the -ούσα, -ούσες, -ούσε etc. endings for the imperfect active of oxytone verbs (as SMG) instead of regional forms such as εμπόρουν(α), εμπόρειες, εμπόρειε and εκράταγα, εκράταγες (the latter set are also used in SMG); present passive 3rd pl. -ουνται (στέκουνται ‘they stand’) as well as (ancient & SMG) -ονται; imperfect passive sg. stressed (ε)στέκουμουν,16 (ε)στέκουσουν, (ε)στέκουνταν (unlike SMG); lack of differentiation between sg. and pl. in 3rd person (no dedicated 3rd sg. form such as εστέκετο(ν)/εστεκόταν/εστεκότουν). the gerund ends in -οντας/-ώντας (as in SMG) rather than -οντα/-ώντα; use of the same perfective forms of αφήνω ‘leave, let’ as in SMG (άφησα and αφήσω), and not regional αφήκα/άφηκα, αφήκω;17 for the perfective past of ευρίσκω ‘find’ the form ηύρα is preferred to other alternatives such as εύρα, βρήκα, ευρήκα (except Christopoulos), εύρηκα (AG perfect form), ηύρηκα (Cretan lit.);18 the regional augment with eta (ήφερα ‘I brought’) is normally avoided in favour of AG & SMG έ- (έφερα);19 perfective past passive 1st sg. εκοιμήθηκα (with MG suffix) is far more frequent than AG εκοιμήθην, though for the 3rd sg. the AG εκοιμήθη and εκοιμήθηκε (with MG suffix) are both frequently used; relative pronoun: a general preference for οπού rather than που, while ο οποίος is avoided in poetry; typical vocabulary items such as αχαμνός ‘bad, of bad quality’ (the antonym of καλός; contrast the word’s meaning in SMG: ‘weak, scrawny’), καλούτσικος ‘pretty, handsome’ (contrast SMG: ‘goodish’), καρέτα ‘carriage’ (Ven. careta or Ital. carretta, but cf. Rom. caretă), κοκόνα ‘lady, Madam’ (Rom. cocoană), κοκονίτσα ‘young lady, Miss’ (cf. Rom. coconiță), κουβανώ ‘carry’ (contrast SMG κουβαλώ);20 the position of the weak object pronoun is almost always identical to SMG (before a finite verb but after an imperative or gerund); exceptions include Φθάνει σου πια (Soutsos 1995: 7) ‘That’s enough for you now’, which are perhaps fossilized expressions; note, however, that with periphrastic verb forms using θέλω and είχα the object pronoun is typically placed between the two verbs (see the examples θέλει σας είπα and να μην είχα σε τύχει quoted above); But βάζουμεν in Rizos 1813. εγέλουμουν also in Mormoris 2012: 119. 17 άφηκα, αφήκες in Mormoris 2012 (as well as -σ-). 18 ηύρα also appears in Mormoris 2012, alongside εύρηκα. 19 Certain writers – at least Konstantinos Karatzas the Ban – write both έφερα and ήφερα. 20 For more details on the vocabulary of Phanariot literature see Mackridge 2021. 15 16 11 • use of the adverbs πιο ‘more’ and πια ‘by now’ (as in SMG) rather than the regional forms πλιο and πλια.21 Stylistic: • nouns: fem. pl. παρατήρησες ‘observations’ as well as (AG & SMG) παρατηρήσεις; • adjectives: fem. sg. εύμορφη ‘beautiful’, αχάριστη ‘ungrateful’ (as SMG) as well as AG εύμορφος; • most authors (but not Katartzis!) tend to avoid the uncontracted forms of the presenttense endings of oxytone verbs, e.g. γελάει, to which they prefer γελά; • use of imperfective verbal forms such as αποδείχνω ‘prove’ (also used by Korais), υποφέρνω ‘suffer’; contrast the corresponding SMG forms αποδεικνύω (which uses the stem of AG ἀποδείκνυμι and a MG ending) and υποφέρω (as AG); • tendency to avoid internal augment: απόκτησα ‘I acquired’ rather than (AG & SMG) απέκτησα; • some regularized perfective forms of irregular ancient verbs, e.g. εμεταβάλθηκε (Katartzis 1974: 7) ‘s/he/it was transformed’ (3rd sg. perfective past of μεταβάλλω) rather than either AG μετεβλήθη or SMG μεταβλήθηκε; • otherwise the orthography tends to be conservative; this includes not only pseudoetymological spellings that were pretty well universal at the time, such as ταῖς κόραις (where a modern accusative plural is dressed up to look like an ancient dative plural), but also the frequent use of final -ν as well as εις ‘to’ and διά ‘for’ instead of σε and για even when these probably don’t represent the pronunciation of everyday speech. As for what Kostas Kazazis (1979) called “learnedisms”, in a letter read out in a satirical comedy the hospodar’s wife writes: πρέπει να έχει κανείς προϋπάρχουσαν είδησιν διά να νιώσει το τι λέγει (Saganaki 2011: f. 4v) ‘one needs to have pre-existing knowledge in order to understand what it says’, using the ancient present participle. Although this phrase is explicitly stated as being used in writing, such formulae may well have been used in the more formal styles of educated speech; even in English the word pre-existing tends to be used in rather formal registers.22 What AG features were excluded? As I’ve said, the learnedisms or archaisms are generally taken from the Hellenistic Koine and ecclesiastical Greek rather than, say, Classical Attic. I’ve found very few examples of verbs in -μι in the literature, but occasionally some in non-literary texts. Other archaisms sometimes used in correspondence from or to Phanariot hospodars include datives and some ancient relative pronouns. I’ll now quote a short extract from each of two little-known texts written in the Phanariot Literary Koine by writers from Constantinople. Here I’ve preserved the spelling that is used in the manuscripts. The first is from the novella Ἡ κομψή ιστορία, Τό κατ᾿ Εὐμενείαν καί Σαπφιάδην (The elegant tale of Eumeneia and Sapphiades), possibly by Konstantinos Rossetis; undated but probably written about 1800. This passage describes the treatment of a male servant by a capricious mistress. 21 It is curious that, while the complementizer after verbs of saying etc. in the writings of Psycharis and Cavafy (which contain a number of Constantinopolitanisms) is normally που, in eighteenth-century Phanariot literature it always seems to be πως. I am grateful to Nick Nicholas for asking me about this phenomenon in the Q&A session after my lecture. 22 Spiros Moschonas has suggested to me that this phrase may possibly be an internal translation of Aristotle’s προϋπάρχουσα γνῶσις (‘prior cognition’), used in the Posterior Analytics (see Bonitz 1870: 159, s.v. γνῶσις). 12 ὁ δὲ Γιανίλης πάλιν δὲν ἔλειπεν ὥρα ὁποῦ νὰ μὴν τὸν ὑβρίσῃ, καὶ νὰ μὴν τὸν κτυπήσῃ εἰς τὸ κεφάλι μὲ τὰ ὀψώνια ὁποῦ ἠγόραζε καὶ ἔφερνεν εἰς τὸ σπῆτι, στέλλωντας τον ὀπίσω ἑκατὸν φοραῖς, διὰ νὰ ἀλλάξῃ τὸ ἕνα, καὶ νὰ δώσῃ ὀπίσω τὸ ἄλλο, καὶ νὰ κόψῃ τὴν τιμὴν τοῦ ἄλλου, καὶ τὸν ὠνείδιζεν ὡς κλέπτην, εἰς τρόπον ὁποῦ μία στιγμὴ δὲν ἠμποροῦσε νὰ ἡσυχάσῃ, οὔτε ἠμποροῦσε ποτὲ νὰ τἠν εὐχαριστήσῃ. As for Yanilis [a servant], again an hour would not pass without her cursing him and hitting him on the head with the shopping which he had purchased and brought home, sending him back a hundred times in order to change one item and give back another and reduce the price of another, and accusing him mockingly of being a thief, in such a way that he was unable to relax for one moment, nor was he able to please her. The second extract is from an anonymous translation of Carlo Goldoni’s comedy I due gemelli veneziani (1747). The translation was done in 1783, possibly in Bucharest. The manuscript was discovered as recently as 2015.23 The Greek text here is based on a provisional transcription by Yorgos Pileidis, who is preparing a first edition. I am grateful to him for allowing me to quote from his transcription. Note the use of the dotted π to represent the voiced consonant [b]. [f. iv-2r; Act 1, scene 1:] Two young women; Colombina is a servant in Rosaúra’s household. [ΡΟΖΑΟΥΡΑ]: Ἔτζι περιγελᾶς τὴν κοκκόνα σου π͘ρέ […];24 Καλὰ τὸ λέγω ἐγὼ τὸν πατέρα μου. [ΚΟΛΟΜΠΙΝΑ]: Τὶ πατέρα, τὶ μητέρα, κοκκόνα κοκκονίτζα μου; Ξεύρεις πῶς ἂν ἀνοίξω τὸ στόμα μου – [ΡΟΖΑΟΥΡΑ]: Καὶ τὶ ἠμπορεῖς νὰ εἰπῇς π͘ρέ πουτανοκόρητζο. [ΚΟΛΟΜΠΙΝΑ]: Πιὸ ὀλίγαις κομμάτι αὐταῖς ταῖς λέξαις, γιατὶ ἂν ἀραθυμήσω ὅλα θὲ νὰ τὰ ξεράσω. [ΡΟΖΑΟΥΡΑ]: Καὶ πὲς νὰ ἰδῶ ψεύτρα τὶ ἠμπορεῖς νὰ εἰπῇς; [ΚΟΛΟΜΠΙΝΑ]: Ἰξεύρω ἐγὼ τὶ θὲ νὰ πῶ· ἀρκετὰ ἐσιώπησα ἕως τώρα, καὶ πιὰ ἀπεφάσισα νὰ ξεσπάσω. R: Is this how you mock your mistress, you [???]? I’ll surely tell my father. C: What of your father and your mother, my lady, my mistress? You know that if I open my mouth – R: And what can you say, you little whore? C: [Let’s have] a bit less of those words, because if I lose my temper I’ll spew everything out. R: Tell me so I can see, liar, what you’re capable of saying. C: I know what I’ll say; I’ve kept quiet long enough so far, and now I’ve decided to let it all out. A number of significant writers who were born outside the Phanariot cultural area but who spent some years within it chose to align their literary language with grammatical and lexical features of the Phanariot Literary Koine in at least some of their works. These include Evgenios Voulgaris, Konstantinos (later Kaisarios) Dapontes, Patriarch Kallinikos III, Rigas Velestinlis (especially in his short-story collection Σχολείον των ντελικάτων εραστών, 1790), Athanasios Psalidas (if he was the author, or one of the authors, of the short stories contained 23 Bernardinello (n.d.: 7) claims that the translation was done at the behest of the hospodar of Wallachia Michail Soutsos; he even hypothesizes that the translator may have been Soutsos himself. He also refers to Pileidis’ hypothesis that the translation of I due gemelli may have been performed at Soutsos’ court in 1784. For Soutsos’ translation programme during the early part of his first hospodarship (1783 onwards) see Dimaras in Katartzis 1974: xlii. See also the Appendix at the end of my main text. 24 I cannot decipher this word in the manuscript. Goldoni’s original text has disgraziata. 13 in the volume Έρωτος αποτελέσματα, 1792), Athanasios Christopoulos and Konstantinos Kokkinakis. Voulgaris has been claimed to have instigated the Greek language controversy by writing in 1766 that those who philosophize in “vulgar language” (i.e those who write about scholarly matters in MG) “should be hissed off the stage”. Yet this did not stop him, in the same year, from publishing his verse translation of Voltaire’s “oriental tale” “Memnon” in a language variety that is close to the Phanariot Literary Koine. Voulgaris was from Corfu, but in his “Memnon” translation he uses few, if any, features that are characteristic of the Ionian Islands, while he uses a number of loanwords from Turkish that were probably not current there at all. In 1801 Kokkinakis, who was originally from the island of Chios, published translations of four “bourgeois dramas” by the German author August Kotzebue. It is probable that Kokkinakis studied at the Princely Academy in Bucharest, though there are no documents from the school to prove it (Puchner 2017: 256 n. 51). At all events, his use of loanwords from Romanian and linguistic features typical of Constantinopolitan usage suggests that in these translations he’s following a Phanariot model.25 The protagonists of Kotzebue’s plays are ordinary citizens. This is an advantage for linguistic study – the stilted language of “serious” drama (such as the varieties used in the verse translations of Metastasio by Ioannis Karatzas and Rigas Velestinlis during the same period) would be a very misleading guide to the spoken language of the time. Kokkinakis’ later decision to collaborate with Korais (whose father was from Chios) indicates his move away from Phanariot culture, as does (in a different direction) Psalidas’ later attempt, in collaboration with Vilaras, to devise and promote a more “demotic” version of the spoken language based on mainland varieties of Greek speech but without any traces of Phanariot usage. Both of these moves away from Phanariot culture took place in the 1810s and formed part of educational and cultural projects that were inspired by the Greek national movement.26 3. The Phanariots’ sense of their own sociolect in contrast to other regional varieties of Greek Phanariots took pride in the fact that their life and culture centred around Constantinople. They were aware that the language they spoke differed from other contemporary varieties of Greek because they lived in cities (Constantinople, Bucharest and Iaşi) that were inhabited not only by non-Greek-speakers but by Greek-speakers from various different regions. For this reason they were in a position to differentiate their own sociolect, the language of the capital, from the varieties of Modern Greek spoken in the provinces. Furthermore, as I’ve said, some of the authors who wrote in the Phanariot Literary Koine had moved from Among the specifically Constantinopolitan features that appear in these translations are the forms διες, διέτε, να διεις, να διείτε (in three different plays: Kotzebue 2008: 428, 316, 264, 334). Strangely, though, these forms are used by characters οf low social status. 26 At the end of his prologue to his later translation of Molière’s Tartuffe (1815: 33) Kokkinakis states explicitly that in his translation he has imitated the ύφος (style or linguistic form) of Korais. It should be noted, however, that Kokkinakis translated Tartuffe into Greek verse, contrary to Korais’ 1814 exhortation to the Greeks to write in prose: «ἡ ποιητικὴ τοῦ χρόνου περίοδος εἰς τὰ ἔθνη εἶναι ἡ νηπιώδης τῶν ἐθνῶν ἡλικία εἰς τὴν ὁποίαν βασιλεύει πλέον ἡ φαντασία παρὰ ὁ λογισμός, ἡ δὲ λογογραφία, ὡς καὶ τ’ ὄνομά της τὸ λέγει, εἶναι ἀληθῶς τοῦ λογικοῦ ἡ ἡλικία» (“the poetic period in the [history of] nations is their childhood, in which the imagination prevails rather than reasoning, while prose, as its name logographia implies, is truly the age of reason”: Korais 1984: 567. In fact, sophisticated prose literature was being written in Modern Greek by Phanariots almost a century before Korais proclaimed that it was now time for the Greeks to write in prose. 25 14 elsewhere to settle in the Phanariot cultural areas, so they aware of any differences there might have been between their own native variety and the language of Constantinople. Like other Constantinopolitans, Katartzis distinguishes between Πολίτες (Constantinopolitans) and ξωμερίτες (provincials), and similarly contrasts πολίτικα with ξωμερίτικα (the language spoken by provincials: Katartzis 1970: 12; 1974: 9). Ξωμερίτης (or more formally εξωμερίτης) means both a resident of the provinces and an incomer from the provinces to the capital.27 It literally means ‘someone from an out-place’– and perhaps for the Phanariots it may sometimes have had connotations of the English word outlandish. It’s interesting to see how Phanariots conceived of their own language by distinguishing it from certain other varieties. Christopoulos (born in Kastoria in Macedonia) wrote to Psalidas (born in Epirus) in 1811 from Bucharest: Εγώ παρατηρώ, ότι η Πολίτικη γλώσσα δεν διαφέρει τίποτε κατά κλίσιν και σύνταξιν από την δικήν μας την Ηπειρώτικην, αλλά και από την Μοραΐτικην, εκτός μόνον κατά μερικές λέξεις. Ώστε ημπορούμεν να διαιρέσωμεν την τωρινήν Ρωμαίικην γλώσσαν κάλλιστα εις Στερεώτικη και νησιώτικην, η οποία έχει κάποιες διαφορές και κατά κλίσιν και κατά σύνταξιν, κατά δε λέξιν πάμπολλες. (Moschonas 1981: 5) I observe that the language of Constantinople does not differ in any way in declension and syntax from our own Epirot, nor yet from Peloponnesian, except only for certain words. Thus we may very well divide the present-day Romaic language into Mainlandish and Islandish, which [i.e. the latter] has some differences in declension and syntax, but many in vocabulary. Tzitzilis (2016: 433) has pointed out that in this passage Christopoulos ignores the Asia Minor varieties of Greek. What’s more, Christopoulos fails to mention the very striking phonological differences among these dialects. Be that as it may, the Phanariots in general, like Christopoulos, seem to have seen their own language as a variety of mainland Greek, while the “other” consisted primarily of the various island varieties (whether these be from the Aegean islands plus Crete and Cyprus, or from the Heptanese). Phanariots tended to be familiar with “islandish” because many of their servants came from the islands. For this reason they tended to perceive “islandish” as being the language of the uneducated – and therefore as being potentially comic. Attempts to imitate features of regional speech are present right from the earliest of the Phanariot satirical comedies, Αυξεντιανός μετανοημένος (A repentant Afxentian, written in 1752), where the author places particular features in the mouths of naïve characters who have been duped by the “false prophet” Afxentios. These characters originate from the islands of Andros, Cephalonia and Lefkada: one Aegean island and two of the Ionian Islands. Indeed, the target of the satire, Afxentios himself, was a historical character who was born and bred on Andros. Even the author of this satire is most likely to be an islander himself, Ananias of Paros, but he may have had as his co-author Kallinikos, later patriarch of Constantinople, who was from Thessaly in the northern mainland; at all events, both of these authors clearly identified with the Phanariot elite and with what they considered to be the correct Orthodox Christian dogma. In the Phanariot translations of Goldoni’s comedies a source of humour is to be found in the caricature of “islandish” in the speech of some of the servants. The features that the translator or translators choose to employ are an eclectic mixture of features typical of both 27 Katartzis explicitly promotes the use of πολίτικα as a written variety, without however discouraging others from using their own local varieties. 15 western and eastern islands, such as ίντα; ‘What?’, which is characteristic of eastern islands such as Crete and Chios, and γιαμά ‘well then’ and μα τον άγιο ‘by the saint’, which are characteristic of the western islands (Ionian Islands/Heptanese; γιαμά is also attested in Mani). In the mouths of these characters these native Greek features are accompanied by a large number of words of Italian origin that were not normally used by Constantinopolitans. Sometimes a single character will use features that are typical of both eastern and western islands, as though to a Constantinopolitan ear all islanders sound alike.28 It’s telling that the Greek translator’s choice whether to make a character speak Constantinopolitan or “islandish” doesn’t seem to be correlated with Goldoni’s own decision as to whether a character should speak “Italian” (Tuscan) or Venetian. It’s also significant that in one of the μισμαγιές (manuscript collections of Phanariot song texts), perhaps written in 1778, the scribe includes two verse parodies written in bizarre varieties of Greek. One of these is entitled «Γκιουρτζίδικο» (“Georgian”), and the other «Χιώτικο» (“Chiot”) (Gennadeios 725: f. 84r). In this way the author or scribe implies that the Greek spoken by a native Greek-speaking Chiot is analogous to the broken Greek spoken by a Georgian as a second language. In other words, to a Constantinopolitan, both of these ways of speaking Greek sound equally εξωμερίτικα: both strange and comic.29 The use of regionalisms for comic effect reached its climax in Iakovos Rizos Neroulos’ Κορακιστικά, ή Διόρθωσις της Ρωμαίκης Γλώσσας (Korakistika, or Correction of the Romaic Language), written in 1811. This comedy satirizes the language reforms (or “corrections”) proposed by Korais – hence the punning title, which suggests that “Koraistika” (the variety of Greek proposed by Korais) is no different from the children’s secret language known as Κορακίστικα, literally the “language of the ravens”, that is, gibberish. However, Neroulos’ comedy also exploits the language spoken by groups of Greeks from various regions for comic purposes. In the Dramatis personae the groups of characters from Yannina, Chios, Mytilene and Cyprus are described as «ξένοι» (‘foreigners’), and it’s no coincidence that of these four geographical groups three are islanders, and that the only so-called “foreign” character who is named in the list is Mikes, who is both a Chiot and a servant..30 The language varieties that Neroulos places in the mouths of these provincials are ridiculed as much as is the variety spoken by Sotiris and his friend Avgoustis, the two pedantic followers of Korais, who are presented as being equally naïve as the uneducated provincials. It’s not for nothing that the regional variety that Neroulos most ridicules is that of the Chiots, since, as I’ve said, Korais’ father was from Chios. Neroulos’ objections to Korais’ language are that it is unspoken and unpronounceable, in other words not oral. By contrast, the linguistic variety spoken by the young heroes of the comedy, Sotiris’ daughter Elengo and her Constantinopolitan fiancé Yangos, is the one promoted by the playwright himself.31 In the For instance, Trastoulos in Η πατήρ της φαμιλίας (La padre di famiglia) uses vocabulary items that are characteristic of the Ionian Islands such as γιαμά and άντζι ‘particularly’ and features characteristic of the eastern islands such as ίντα and the 3rd-person plural past ending -ασι (εγενήκασι, χάσκασι): all these are to be found in Goldoni 1988: 60-62. 29 It’s also telling that the only instance I’ve found of a phrase being explicitly quoted as non-Phanariot in a letter from a Phanariot is reported as having been spoken by Chiots: «Δεν τον θέμενε» ‘we don’t want him’, say the Chiots about a bishop who has been imposed on them against their will (Hurmuzaki 1936: 409), using the extended form of the 1st person plural used in some of the eastern islands. 30 In his prologue to the play (Rizos 1813: 3), Theodoros Negris states that the author’s aim was not only to combat Koraism but also to show that he “does not prefer any of «τα κατά τόπους διάφορα της γλώσσας μας ιδιώματα»” (“the various regional idioms of our language”); quoted by Puchner (2001: 24-25, = Neroulos 2002: 158), who observes that Neroulos doesn’t mention the regional varieties in his own introductory note. I don’t know on what basis Puchner (2001: 78; = Neroulos 2002: 212) maintains that Neroulos’ Yanniots are supposed to be Albanian-speakers. 31 According to Puchner (2001: 81; = Neroulos 2002: 215), Ioanniskos is a mouthpiece for Neroulos himself. At the time of the comedy’s composition, Korais was already 63 years old, and his fictional followers in the play 28 16 scenes in the comedy where the followers of Korais speak, Neroulos adds footnotes in which he translates what he calls the “Korakisms” (i.e. Koraisms) into what he regards as his own normal language. These translations provide valuable information regarding the words and forms that Phanariots considered to be the norm. As in the Goldoni translations, so too in the Korakistika the linguistic features that differentiate the provincials from the Phanariots do not present genuine evidence of the actual linguistic situation of the time. They are based on subjective impressions rather than being a faithful record of linguistic phenomena.32 4. The Phanariot literary Koine vis-à-vis other possible Greek regional literary Koines during the eighteenth century The only other possible contender for a regional literary Koine in the eighteenth century was the Heptanese. I’m unable to say with certainty whether or not there was a Heptanesian Literary Koine, though it may be that there was and is a spoken variety that contains features from various Heptanesian dialects and is comprehensible to all the inhabitants of the Heptanese. At all events, eighteenth-century Heptanesian literature has been described as «ωχρή συνέχεια της κρητικής ακμής» (“a pale continuation of the Cretan ακμή (heyday)”: Politis 1983: xv) which, in any case, faded away around the middle of the century. In the eighteenth century the Greeks, depending on where they lived, were ruled either from Constantinople or from Venice, and they took on certain aspects of the culture of those cities (particularly language, dress and diet). In the spoken language of Crete and the Ionian Islands, and in the Cretan comedies, the major source of loanwords was Italian. In Constantinople, by contrast, Turkish was not only the chief source of loanwords but also a major source of phrasal calques, in which Turkish idioms are translated word for word into Greek. (It’s worth mentioning again in this context that in Phanariot literature the largest proportion of loanwords from Italian is placed in the mouths of comic, nonConstantinopolitan characters of low social status, whereas the abundant use of loans from Turkish seems to have no comic connotations.) The high incidence of phrasal calques from Turkish in Phanariot Greek may be attributed not only to the fact that many native speakers of Greek were functionally bilingual, but also to the fact that many of the Orthodox Christian inhabitants of Constantinople were immigrants from Turkish-speaking Christian communities and their descendants. Cretan and Heptanesian literary culture was close to the local rural language and culture, including the folk song; many members of the elite were landowners and had close contacts with agricultural labourers. By contrast, Phanariot culture was almost entirely urban; if a Phanariot owned a landed estate, it was likely to be in what later became Romania or Moldova. As a consequence of these cultural differences, Phanariots probably found Cretan and Heptanesian literature quite alien to them. Unlike Heptanesian literature, Phanariot similarly belong to an older generation than the young heroes. The 33-year-old Neroulos sides with the younger generation. Very soon, however, the tidal wave of Greek nationalism ensured that Korais came to enjoy widespread reverence among the Greeks, and Neroulos, not wanting to find himself on the wrong side of history, felt obliged to renounce his comedy as a youthful jeu d’esprit which had been published without his knowledge. See Puchner 2001: 31 (= Neroulos 2002: 165) for the text of the open letter to Alexandros Vasileiou (published in the παράρτημα (annexe, appendix) of Ελληνικός Τηλέγραφος, no. 58 (May 1815), p. 256), in which Neroulos publicly retracts the anti-Korais views he had expressed in the Κορακιστικά; the letter is mentioned by Kokkinakis (1815: 29n.) 32 For instance, the Cypriot and Chiot characters use double consonants even in places where long consonants aren’t actually used in the respective dialects, while on the other hand the speech of the Yanniots presents very few instances of the raising or deletion of unstressed vowels. 17 literary texts contain very few linguistic echoes of the “islandish” poetic language of the Cretan Renaissance and the Greek folk song, although they do contain plenty of traditional idioms and proverbs.33 5. Negative attitudes towards the Phanariots and their language Until recently, Phanariot literature has had a bad press. This negative reception has generally been based on prejudice, and it is only in recent years that these texts have begun to be seriously studied. This prejudice is chiefly a consequence of the close connection between Phanariot literature and Ottoman culture, both in terms of language and because of the Phanariots’ involvement in the high echelons of the Ottoman administration. This is how Konstantinos Dimaras refers to Phanariot songs in the standard history of modern Greek literature: «Η γλώσσα τους, πιστή απεικόνιση της λαλουμένης μέσα στους φαναριώτικους κύκλους, έχει συχνά αφόρητο ποσοστό από τούρκικες λέξεις» (“Their language, a faithful depiction of the language spoken at the time in Phanariot circles, often contains an intolerable proportion of Turkish words”: Dimaras 2000: 223). The prejudice against the Phanariots, who thought of themselves as aristocrats, has been heavily influenced by the nationalistic views of the bourgeois Korais, a staunch opponent of the concept of inherited nobility, who described them pejoratively in 1811 as “the Byzantine legislators of the language” (Korais 1979: 162).34 Korais’ insistence that the Phanariots were traitors to the Greek nation both deterred him from paying serious attention to their literature (most of which, besides, remained unpublished in his time) and coloured later Greek nationalist scholars’ attitudes towards them. Konstantinos Koumas, a follower of Korais, wrote the following in 1832: Εις τους Φαναριώτας, των οποίων ήτο δημιούργημα η μιξοβάρβαρος γλώσσα, και οι οποίοι ήθελαν να δίδωσιν εις τους άλλους παράδειγμα γλώσσης την Ελληνικοτουρκογαλλικήν γλώσσαν των, εφάνη παράξενον ότι κάποιος Κοραής εξωμερίτης, διατρίβων εις Παρισίους, και όχι μεταξύ του περιβλέπτου γένους, ετόλμησε να συστήση διόρθωσιν γλώσσης, ενώ η γλώσσα ήτο ήδη διορθωμένη απ’ αυτούς. (Koumas, 1832: 581)35 To the Phanariots, who had created the mixed-barbarian language and who wished to present their Helleno-Turco-French language as a linguistic model for others, it seemed strange that a certain εξωμερίτης named Korais who resided in Paris rather than amongst their own universally admired kindred should have dared to recommend correcting the language, when they themselves had already corrected it. Already in the eighteenth century the term “Phanariot” seems mostly to have been applied by outsiders to the Greek elite of Constantinople, often with derogatory connotations It’s probably not a coincidence that the target of the Phanariot satirical comedy Το σαγανάκι της τρέλας/The tempest of folly is the historical character Nikolaos Mavrogenis, a native of the island of Paros, who, having served for many years as Dragoman of the Ottoman Fleet, was hospodar of Wallachia from 1786 until his execution in 1790. In the comedy Mavrogenis’ speech is ridiculed not so much for its “islandish” features as for its plethora of nautical terms. The fact that Mavrogenis was an islander and a seafarer made his appointment as hospodar particularly distasteful to the Phanariots, who traditionally had little to do with the sea. 34 It’s difficult to see on what grounds Korais accused Phanariots of aspiring to be “legislators” in linguistic matters. Perhaps he was thinking of the “Aeolodoric” grammar by Christopoulos (1804). It’s unlikely Korais knew Katartzis’ grammar of Romaic, since it remained unpublished until 1970. Later the weaponized terms “legislators” and “correctors” were turned against Korais himself by Kodrikas (1818). 35 Quote courtesy of Alexandros Katsigiannis. 33 18 of guile and untrustworthiness. Once Phanariots such as Alexandros Ypsilantis and Alexandros Mavrokordatos had become leading figures in the Greek Revolution, some Phanariots felt it necessary to dissociate themselves explicitly from the term. As Neroulos wrote in 1827, “[J]e ne me suis jamais considéré comme Fanariote, j’ai toujours été Grec, et je le serai jusqu’au tombeau” (Néroulos 1827: 86–7).36 6. Conclusion I am opposed to the concepts of teleology and inevitability in history (including linguistic history):37 the perception that one development in history leads, with apparent inevitability, to the next. Instead, I am in favour of an “existential” view of history, in other words the way that individuals and social groups at any given time create a sense of themselves, a sense of belonging, and a sense of their culture. This is why I’m interested in dead-ends in linguistic history such as the Phanariot Literary Koine:38 developments that tend to be ignored or marginalized because they don’t fit into a narrative of inevitable progress towards the present. So in this talk it has definitely not been my aim to argue that the Phanariot Literary Koine was one of the varieties that contributed to SMG – though secretly I suspect it may have been! The Phanariot Literary Koine developed before the Greek language controversy, before Greek nationalism, and before the perception or invention of a rigid binary division between learned and popular linguistic features within the Greek language. There was no explicit agreement concerning the features that were to be included in the language of Phanariot literature or excluded from it, because the rarity of printed publications meant that writers had little opportunity to read each other’s work. Instead, the Phanariot Literary Koine, like the language of medieval Greek vernacular poetry, seems to have been a tacit choice by a number of writers to use a similar combination of linguistic features for literary purposes. I keep asking myself “what if?” As I’ve suggested, the Phanariot Literary Koine was a highly functional, expressive and versatile variety of written Greek. If the Phanariots, rather than Korais, had come to be widely recognized as the intellectual and cultural leaders of the Greek nation in the 1810s, their language might potentially have become the basis for the Koine (both spoken and written) of all the Greeks.39 36 This repudiation of his Phanariotness did not prevent Neroulos from proudly describing himself, on the title page of this same book, as “Ancien premier ministre des hospodars grecs de Wallachie et de Moldavie”. 37 See also Holton et al. (2019: xvi), where Medieval Greek is viewed in itself, not as “a stage in the evolution of Greek in general”. 38 See Mackridge 2018a. Another linguistic dead-end is the medieval temporal infinitive (Holton et al. 2019: 1913-14). 39 Psycharis, part of whose family was from Istanbul, attempted in Το ταξίδι μου (1888) to develop a written demotic that contained a substantial number of Constantinople features. This was a kind of rear-guard action to reassert the centrality of Constantinople in Greek culture and to resist the hegemony of Athens. 19 APPENDIX: KATARTZIS’ LINGUISTIC CHANGE, KODRIKAS, AND THE MICHAIL SOUTSOS CONNECTION Katartzis, who held several high offices in the princely court of Wallachia during the course of his career, began his “αναμορφωτικό έργο” (i.e. his writings on language, education and culture in a language variety based on the language commonly spoken in Constantinople) in January 1783 (Dimaras in Katartzis 1974: xxxviii). Later that year Michail Soutsos was inaugurated as hospodar of Wallachia (until 1786). As we have seen, Soutsos is likely to have encouraged and/or commissioned the translation of Goldoni’s I due gemelli veneziani into colloquial Greek (see n. 22 above); the fact that he commissioned French-to-Greek translations of non-literary works from Katartzis (Dimaras in Katartzis 1974: xliii) shows that he supported the latter’s use and promotion of the colloquial language at that time. However, in 1791 Katartzis abandoned his use of “το φυσικό ύφος” (‘the natural style’, i.e. the spoken language) and adopted what he described as the “αιρετή γλώσσα” (‘chosen language’ [by implication an “artificial” one]) and “the style of the learned” (Katartzis 1970: 332), i.e. a slightly archaized version of Modern Greek. It is probably no coincidence that it was in 1791 that Soutsos became hospodar of Wallachia for the second time (until the end of 1792). Katartzis’ change of language can be interpreted as an indirect reaction to the French Revolution, which challenged the absolute power of monarchs and the belief in the divine right of kings – including sultans (cf. Dimaras in Katartzis 1974: lxxxiv-lxxxvii). It is likely that by this time Soutsos viewed Katartzis’ earlier use of colloquial Greek as dangerously revolutionary, since it departed from the language varieties traditionally used by the hospodars and by the patriarchs of the Orthodox Church. Kodrikas served as secretary to Michail Soutsos when the latter was hospodar of Wallachia in 1783-6 and 1791-3 and of Moldavia in 1793-5. Thus Kodrikas must have been well acquainted with Katartzis personally and with his views on the modern Greek language, and he must have been well aware of the hospodar’s views too. By the time Kodrikas wrote the introduction to his Fontenelle translation, Katartzis had already abandoned “the natural style” in favour of “the style of the learned”. Kodrikas’ 1794 translation was dedicated to Soutsos and printed at his expense. Katartzis’ decision to change the language variety he wrote in, together with Soutsos’ views on the topic, must have influenced Kodrikas’ practical use of language and his theoretical views about it, including his recommendation that the language used by Nikolaos Karatzas in his writings should serve as a model for other authors.40 Karatzas’ mother was a Soutsos, and Michail Soutsos succeeded him as hospodar of Wallachia in 1783. These factors may have led Soutsos to feel particularly well disposed to the language variety used by Karatzas in his writings. It is telling that in the introduction to his translation of Fontenelle Kodrikas claims that he is using “the style unmixed with foreign words, which His Highness prefers and likes” (Kodrikas 1794: xxxi). In fact, it is probable that Kodrikas’ references to the language he used in his translation were written at the request (if not at the command) of Soutsos himself. In that introduction Kodrikas (1794: xx) writes: “I will pass over in silence how difficult it would be for the sensitive soul of a learned writer who loved his nation (φιλογενούς σπουδαίου) to go so far as to translate serieusement [sic] as χορατασίζικα, absolument as μούτλακ and et bien as ζαέρ, etc. etc. etc.” Kodrikas implies that these three In a letter from Nikolaos Karatzas to his “brother prince” Alexandros Ypsilantis of Moldavia in 1782 one can find the following clause: «…ὅν καὶ συνίστησι [...] εἰς τὴν πόναν γκράτζιάν μας» (‘…whom he also commends to our good grace’: Hurmuzaki 1936: 225); notice the combination of an ancient relative pronoun and an archaic verb form (from a verb in -μι!) with a foreign phrase: Italian buona grazia or French bonne grâce. This clause could be said to be a true instance of μιξοβάρβαρα; yet this is the Nikolaos Karatzas whose language Kodrikas recommended as a model in 1794. 40 20 loanwords from Turkish were commonly used in Constantinopolitan Greek speech in his time. As a matter of fact, the sentential adverb ζαέρ (< T zahir ‘apparently, clearly, evidently’) appears frequently in Phanariot literary texts, and Katartzis uses it three times according to Dimaras’ glossary (Katartzis 1970: 485). Neither of the other words seems to be found in Katartzis’ extant works, although he does write χωρίς χωρατά (1974: 70). Ironically, however, μουτλάκ (thus properly stressed, T mutlak) is used by Kodrikas’ model, Nikolaos Karatzas, in his 1782 letter (Hurmuzaki 1936: 226), as well as by the latter’s son Konstantinos Karatzas the Ban in his journal (Hurmuzaki 1909: 85). As for χορατασίζικα, this is derived from Turkish horatasız, lit. ‘without a joke’, a derivative of the (now obsolete) horata ‘joke’, which in turn (again ironically) is apparently derived from Greek χωρατάς (today χωρατό). Kodrikas’ inclusion of χορατασίζικα, which would have been a low-status colloquial term in Constantinople Greek, was no doubt intended to be a reductio ad absurdum, since no writer would have used this word in a serious context. I would add that Kodrikas illogically conflates vocabulary with grammar, as so many Greek purists have done: because he has decided, in his translation, to “purge” the modern language of loanwords, he has also decided to archaize its morphology. REFERENCES (a) Manuscript resources BAR 927. Manuscript miscellany housed in the Library of the Romanian Academy, Bucharest. Gennadeios 725. Manuscript miscellany housed in the Gennadeios Library, Athens. (b) Printed and digital resources Afxentianos 2010. Αυξεντιανός μετανοημένος [1752], ed. 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