Lampas - Volume 52, Issue 2, 2019

This paper offers a new reading of the longest extant fragment of Hegemon of Thasos’ parodies (fragment 1 Brandt) in the context of Greek parodic literature and ancient conceptions of literary propriety (τὸ πρέπον or decorum). After a brief overview of Hegemon’s life and works and an introduction to the ancient term παρῳδία and the history of Greek parodic literature, the paper suggests that the incongruity between elevated style and lowly subject matter is the most salient feature of ancient parody. This contrast between form and content, it argues, is at odds with ancient norms of literary propriety, which prescribed that manner and matter should form a harmonious unity. Throughout Greco-Roman history, parodic texts overtly play with their incongruity by finding various ways of denying accusations of transgression. Hegemon’s fragment 1 is perhaps the earliest instance of a parodist grappling with the issue of literary propriety. The paper shows how in Hegemon’s epic, Homeric language contrasts with the iambic (or iambos-like) content of his poem; how the poet authorizes his parodic transgressions of genre through the divine permission of Athena; and how he invokes his nickname, ‘Lentil Soup’, to argue that παρῳδία is the most suitable genre possible for him.

In the corpus of apocryphal Cynic letters those attributed to Diogenes stand out: they form the bulk of the letters and they are the most humorous. This corresponds with representations of him as a provocateur elsewhere in imperial Greek literature. This article focuses on the topic of sex in Diogenes’ letters, and answers two main questions: first, whether the sexual humor of the letters is more risqué than what we find in the other sources; second, how this sexual humor contributes to the overall purpose of the apocryphal Diogenes letters. I suggest that even though in the letters euphemistic language persists, they treat the Diogenes anecdotes about sex in greater detail than anywhere else. The provocative, risqué humor contained in these anecdotes would serve to entice and entertain audiences in order to get them engaged in Cynic philosophy.

This article aims to assess the humoristic qualities of Plutarch’s Quaestiones Convivales. Although ostensibly a serious piece, the Table Talk, an extensive prose work which treats dozens of subjects suitable for a traditional symposium in the shape of elaborated Q&A, often suggests that its serious nature is not always to be taken at face value. Quite a number of subjects appear to be only mock serious, which yields a colourful sympotic staging where the participants join this game of tongue-in-cheek seriousness, as depicted by Plutarch, based on his own experiences. Overall, serious subjects are treated lightly, whereas ludicrous subjects are given scholarly – often fussy – treatment, with both approaches equally contributing to an air of funny playfulness. Rather than considering the Quaestiones Convivales a mere treasure trove for historic or cultural realia, or as a work primarily reflecting pedagogical or philosophical ideas, it is worthwhile to read the Table Talk for what it also is: a reflection of humor within its own context.

In this article I reassess the figure of Alcumena in Plautus’ Amphitruo in order to shed new light on the interpretation both of her character and of the play as a whole, which is usually called ‘tragicomedy’ after the playful definition given in the prologue. In previous scholarship, Alcumena was seen as a tragic character embedded in a comedy, and as such she was regarded as the embodiment of the tragicomic mixture suggested by the play’s alleged self-denomination. By contrast, more recent interpretations have reread her figure as farcical, making Alcumena more consistent with the spirit of other Plautine comedies. However, this recent reassessment has neglected some elements that might undermine the new interpretation. Personally, I believe that the application of such exclusive labels as ‘tragic’ and ‘comic’ to Alcumena is not satisfactory from an exegetical point of view. My aim is therefore to overcome such tragicomic exegetical dichotomy by taking some neglected aspects into due account, and especially by applying Pirandello’s theory of humour to the case of Alcumena. This theory’s focus on ‘the contrary’, unlike other definitions of humour, accounts for the simultaneity of the serious and non-serious aspects implied by Alcumena’s presence on stage. Once her ‘humorous’ – in the Pirandellian sense – nature has been brought to light, it is then possible to overcome a dichotomous interpretation of her character as either tragic or comic and, last but not least, gain a better understanding of the generic interplay within the Amphitruo.

The Roman poet Martial is famous for his humorous epigrams, which often poke fun at people or alleged wrongs in contemporary Rome. But there is much more to Martial, as an illustrative analysis of book 1 shows. Roughly half of the book appears to be devoted to themes that are not directly or obviously funny. There are, for instance, metaliterary poems, series of poems developing one theme in ever changing variations, poems hailing lofty ideals or reflecting funeral themes. Martial clearly strives after varietas at every level of his work. So readers do not do justice to him in singling out any specific category, such as the robust jokes for which he is best known. In the end, we may even read his ‘funny’ epigrams in a serious manner and take his ‘serious’ epigrams as forms of light-hearted play.

Humor, both verbal and visual, is culture-specific. This essay examines humorous visual representations in their original archaeological and social contexts to understand Roman attitude-formation, or acculturation. Social theories of humor that distinguish between humor meant for individuals within a group (intragroup humor) and humor targeting individuals outside one’s group (intergroup humor) help explain the dynamics of the humor in Roman visual culture. Pompeii offers two examples of intragroup humor: representations in the Tavern of Salvius make fun of the non-elite people who frequented the tavern; the parodies of Aeneas and Romulus from an elite house make fun of the cultural pretensions of other elites with regard to Augustus’ propaganda. The Tavern of the Seven Sages at Ostia uses intergroup humor, with non-elite men mocking the Seven Sages. In this case Mikhail Bakhtin’s hermeneutic of the carnivalesque enriches the analysis by revealing multiple strategies employed to elicit laughter, including the world-turned upside down, analogies between bodily and spatial representation, and oppositions between philosophical and colloquial speech. In both the Tavern of Salvius and that of the Seven Sages written texts, ranging from crude Latin speech-bubbles to elegant iambic senarii, indicate the levels of literacy of the audiences.

Early Christian humour is not well-known and often its mere existence is doubted. However, modern humour research has proven that humour is a universal human phenomenon. This article investigates in which (con)texts early Christian humour can be found, focusing on the fourth century. Several severe judgements by famous Church Fathers are indeed critical about humour and its most directly related physical response: laughter. The writing of fiction in general was also suspect. However, the theologians’ verdicts of humour also reveal that it was not absent from early Christian society, which would have been impossible, given the rich classical comical traditions, that retained their influence in early Christian times. Apart from some rare examples of Christian comical texts, such as the Cena Cypriani, early Christian humour rather appears to be included in serious hagiographical texts with comical aspects. Prudentius famously versified the martyr story of Lawrence who joked on the grid in his Peristephanon 2, but also refers to the vibrant theatrical tradition of his time. Paulinus of Nola seems to plead in defence of the writing of Christian fiction in a rather comical passage in carmen 16.