Theognis of Megara is an elusive figure. Known to us through a large collection of poems called the Theognidea, about fourteen hundred verses in all, and cited by Nietzsche as the spokesman for Hellenic nobility, he is nonetheless an opaque historical personage. Ancient tradition dated Theognis to the mid-sixth century B.C. On internal grounds, the Theognidea can be dated to the period 640–479 B.C. Thus, the poetry is situated between the heroic age, depicted by Homer, and the classical age, which attained its apex in the second half of the fifth century B.C. Specifically, verses 29–52 in the corpus (by which we mean the Theognidea) seem to portray a political situation in the polis ‘city-state’ of Megara that is analogous to the one prevailing before the rise to power of the Megarian tyrant Theagenes, dated roughly to the years 640–600 B.C., whereas verses 891–895 appear to bear witness to war in Euboea in the second quarter of the sixth century. Finally, verses 773–782 refer to the Persian invasion of the Megarid in 479 B.C. Clearly, the Theognidea are something more than the life’s work—however long that life may have been—of a single poet.

A line of interpretation may, in fact, be suggested by one of the reasons for the survival of the corpus itself, namely, the interest in it of fifth- and fourth-century Athenians. Plato quoted Theognis; Critias, leader of the Thirty Tyrants at Athens and an elegiac poet himself, imitated the Theognidean theme of the sphrēgis ‘seal’. Antisthenes the Cynic philosopher and Xenophon wrote treatises on Theognis. It seems that these Athenians, troubled by the course taken by their own city’s democracy, found themselves much in sympathy with an archaic proponent of aristocracy. Yet these same Athenians, as well as other ancient authorities, did not know enough about the life of Theognis to decide so basic a question as the identity of his homeland. The chief significance of the poetry of Theognis to the Athenians was that it was political poetry in its truest sense, an explication of how life is to be lived in a polis. The meaning of the corpus far transcended archaic Megara and its parochial factionalism.

Our answer to the question of what this "something more" might be is that the figure of Theognis represents a cumulative synthesis of Megarian poetic tradition (see especially Nagy, Chapter 2); an answer that, we believe, is supported by the chronological data, by ancient reactions to the Theognidea, and by the very ideological messages encapsulated in the poems themselves. Theognis is the self-representation of whoever chose to articulate the social values contained in these traditions.

This understanding of the identity of Theognis is in harmony with two major insights that unite the chapters of this volume and mark a new departure in Theognidean studies. First, we shall see that the persona of the poet is traditionally based, ideologically conditioned, and generically expressed. Efforts to create a political biography of Theognis—such as correlating the warnings about the dissolution of the polis with a specific bout of partisan strife or the lamentations on an exile’s plight with a historical banishment of the poet—yield an impoverished reading of the corpus. Such efforts fail to do justice to the persona of Theognis, one of whose salient qualities is his polyvalence: both lover/instructor and enemy/chastiser of a boy named Kyrnos; opponent of duplicity and at the same time cunning dissembler; an antagonist of hubristic monarchy while yet the sole harmonizer of the public temper.

Second, the poet who speaks in the Theognidea is, as we shall see, a true and authoritative spokesman for the Megarian aristocracy. The corpus is not a mere collection of gnomic pronouncements, arbitrarily supplemented from disparate sources, but the crystallization of archaic and early classical poetic traditions emanating from Megara. The many topical continuities within the Theognidea that the following chapters attempt to explain provide substantiation for this insight. Moreover, while the corpus of the Theognidea contains passages elsewhere attributed to other poets, their presence reflects an assimilation of poetic traditions on the basis of their congruity with the indigenous social code. Such assimilation is marked by the very diction of Theognis, tapping a rich poetic heritage and laying claim to a pan-Hellenic significance.

The poems of Theognis fall between two major points not only chronologically but also geographically: Nisaean, or "homeland," Megara, on the Isthmus of Corinth, was a relatively minor state situated between a potentially dominant Athens to the east and an always vexatious Corinth to the west. Thus, although the focus within the corpus itself is mainly on the dissensions arising within the polis, the poetry occasionally alludes to Megarian conflicts with other powers. The scattered data on the political history of archaic Megara are collected at the end of this volume in the form of a chronological table, compiled by Thomas J. Figueira. Each of the twenty-seven dates in the table, whether absolute or relative, is argued at length in the notes accompanying it. This table is a collection of material useful for consultation where the chapters touch on historical matters.

The geographical indeterminacy of the Theognidea, however, is heightened by the debate among the ancients (extended and perpetuated by modern scholars) over whether the poet derived from Nisaean Megara or from Megara Hyblaea, a Megarian colony in Sicily. Still, as a self-representation of Megarian aristocrats, Theognis need not be specifically assigned to either city, since a biographical reckoning of the content of the corpus will be shown to be unnecessary (see Figueira, Chapter 5). The "Megara" of our title is neither Nisaean nor Sicilian Megara, but Theognidean Megara, a paradigmatic homeland for all archaic Greeks, and even for the dead as well as for the living (see Nagy, Chapter 2).

On the level of form also, Theognidean poetry appears to maintain an intermediate status. Elegy, the form of poetry represented by Theognis (and by such figures as Archilochus, Callinus, Solon, Tyrtaeus, and Xenophanes), seems to fall between two major types of archaic Greek poetic expression: the recited hexameters of epic and didactic poetry as represented by Homer and Hesiod on the one hand, and the sung stanzas of the lyric poets on the other. Even now it has not been decided with certainty whether the performance of elegy such as the Theognidea entailed recitation or singing. Nonetheless, the apparent intermediacy of elegy between the forms of epic and lyric can be seen most clearly if we consider its metrical form. The meter of elegy, known as the elegiac couplet, is composed of a dactylic hexameter _uu _uu _uu _uu _uu _xfollowed by what is conventionally called a pentameter _uu _uu _ _uu _uu _The pentameter, as can be seen from this representation of its rhythmical scheme, is composed of two symmetrical halves, known as hemistichs. While hexameter is the meter of Homer and Hesiod, the hemistich of pentameter is cognate with a basic building block of such well-known lyric forms as the so-called dactylo-epitrites of Pindar.

Even a broaching of the subject of the structure of the elegiac couplet inevitably calls up that most controversial question: whether elegy is formulaic. The Appendix, by Nathan A. Greenberg, is a delimited but rigorous attempt to address this question. Greenberg’s finding is that the diction of the hexameters of Theognis in particular and elegy in general is related to, but different and independent from, the diction of the hexameters of Homer. It stands to reason, then, that the hexameter of elegy cannot be simply a borrowing from the earlier hexameter of Homeric and Hesiodic poetry, any more than the hemistich of the elegiac pentameter could be simply a borrowing from lyric. It is not, to be sure, generally thought that the pentameter in elegy is borrowed from lyric, but it is indeed commonly assumed that the hexameter in elegy is just a later version of the hexameter in epic. Here is where Greenberg’s findings are decisive: if he is right, then not only the elegiac hexameter but also the overall form of elegy has to be considered a related but autonomous tradition.

In addition to demonstrating the autonomy of Theognidean poetry, another of our major goals is to show how the program of this poetry is the restoration of a properly functioning aristocratic state. But what, then, of the Megarians who would inhabit this reconstituted polity? In order to appreciate these poems as a dynamic synthesis of poetic traditions and Megarian history, it is important at the very outset to know whether there are any sources for the history of archaic Megara that are external to the Theognidea as such. Louis A. Okin in our first chapter assesses this question. He focuses our attention on three chief sources in prose: Aristotle, Plutarch in the , and the fragments of the Megareis, Megarian local historians. The question is, do these sources depend on the internal evidence of the Theognidea, or are they independent? Okin concludes that there is little evidence for any dependence. (This lack of evidence, as we shall see, can be connected with Plato’s refusal to derive Theognis from Nisaean, or "homeland," Megara.)

If indeed we have ancient testimony about the history of Megara that is independent of the Theognidea, we may proceed to juxtapose a historical vision of Megara with the poet’s own vision of his polis. In Chapter 2, Gregory Nagy examines the dialectic between the ideal function of Theognidean poetry and the discordant reality of the polis of its origin. Nagy argues that the poetry of Theognis is presented as a grand celebration of the ties that bind the community of the polis together. The ethical values upheld by the Theognidea integrate the polis. By contrast, ironically, the poet himself is in fact alienated from his community in general and from young Kyrnos, the focus of his affections, in particular. While being worthy of pan-Hellenic diffusion and acceptance, Theognidean poetry has "not yet" won approval from even its native polis (Theognis v. 24).

Paradoxically, however, the very diction in which the poems are expressed indicates that they have attained pan-Hellenic diffusion. For they are composed not in the native Doric of Megara but in the Ionic of elegiac poetry, a diction associated with such diverse figures as Archilochus of Paros, Tyrtaeus of Sparta, and Solon of Athens.

To Nagy, Theognidean poetry establishes a program for the regeneration of a debased elite, personified by Theognis’ beloved, Kyrnos. The tension between Theognis and Kyrnos is analogous to the confrontation between Hesiod and Perses in the , with its central contrast between dikē ‘justice’ and hubris ‘outrage’. The key to sociopolitical reconstruction is the checking of koros ‘satiation’ or ‘insatiability’, the essence of which is represented as unseasonally exuberant vegetal growth. Such abnormal growth, in contrast with socially integrated husbandry, is in turn made parallel in both Hesiod and Theognis to unseasonal and acquisitively-motivated navigation. This sort of sailing is connected with the bold metaphor of the ship of state. The destruction of the polis by debased aristocrats can only be checked by Theognis, a kubernētēes ‘pilot’ or a seasonal "sailor," and an opponent of hubris.

The chapters that follow deal with the generic aspects of the Theognidea, with a focus on poetic forms, on the foundations of the poet’s authority as a poet, and on the poet’s appropriation and validation of the traditions inherited by him. At the same time, the field of vision continues to widen as comparisons accumulate with other poets and poetic traditions.

The pan-Hellenic status of Theognis and his poetry is marked by a sphrēgis ‘seal’ that the poet says he places upon his words (vv. 19–20). In Chapter 3, Andrew L. Ford examines the meaning of this "seal." Ford observes that the status of poetry in the archaic period, where it circulated freely in oral performances, vitiates the thesis that the seal of Theognis is a guarantee of his status as sole author. Theognis himself insists that his utterances are not original to him but are based on what he learned as a boy (v. 28). Ford also argues that Theognis places a seal on his poetry to identify it and protect it as his property. This can be seen, Ford holds, if one recognizes the kinship of poetry and oracles in the archaic polis, both of which appeared in metrical form and were epē ‘utterances’, protected as divinely inspired, and which bestowed power on those who controlled them. The seal, akin to the public monuments of tyrants like the Peisistratid Hipparchus and the ascriptions of epigrammatists, signifies a politically oriented form of poetic authorization.

Just as the poet appropriates and validates the content of his poetry by means of the special claim expressed by his "seal," so too, according to Lowell Edmunds in Chapter 4, does the genre of elegy plainly distinguish itself from the epic, hymnic, and didactic poetry of Homer, the Homeric Hymns, and Hesiod in two respects: (1) where it places the grounds of its authority and (2) how it construes its relation to its intended audience. The second point raises the central question of the actual function of Theognidean poetry. As Edmunds points out, the poet of elegy presents his poetry as a kind of "monument," an evocation of mnēmosunē ‘memory’, intended for the polis. It is the polis and its needs that preoccupy this poetry. The intended effect of elegiac poetry is to keep the citizens of the polis mindful of the normative principles that will enable them to carry out their day-to-day affairs. Hence, Theognis is preoccupied with the understanding of poetry and with creating a society of those who understand by means of a poetry which, while cryptic, may be didactic, hortatory, or laudatory. Yet, for those nominal citizens who remain outside the community of those who understand, the poet has only blame.

In Chapter 5, our investigation shifts from a consideration of the generic aspects of the Theognidea and from the persona of its poet to a consideration of the social context of the corpus and its ideology. Here Thomas J. Figueira explores how the Theognidea functioned in the institutional setting of sixth-century Megara. The failure of both the and the Megareis (local Megarian historians) to make use of the Theognidea on the one hand, and of Theognis to give greater detail on Megarian political history on the other hand, is unparalleled and particularly perplexing. The former problem is to be explained by the virtual extinction of all archaic Megarian ideology in the course of sixth- and fifth-century civil strife. The second difficulty finds a solution in the hypothesis that the Theognidea were the repository of an aristocratic ideology current in both homeland Megara and its colonies. Still, the operation of Theognidean ideology cannot be appreciated without a recognition that a parallel populist ideology existed, the genre of which was comedy. Both oligarchic and populist ideology claim to be normative and emphasize their own particular conceptualization of a common inherited emphasis on redistribution of material goods as an integrating mechanism for the community. By a failure to adapt to the fifth-century world of monetary exchange and of hostile power blocs, archaic Megarian ideology lost its capacity to explain reality to later Megarians.

With the sixth chapter, the perspective changes fundamentally: the last four chapters of our volume will focus directly on the nature of the elite of a polis and on how that elite can be restored to its proper estate. First, Veda Cobb-Stevens explores Theognis’ portrayal of the Megarian aristocracy as it is. His less than ideal polis is one rife with conflicts, betrayals, duplicities, and uncertainties, all of which can be traced to a reversal that has, in Theognis’ estimation, set his world in turmoil. This reversal, where the kakoi ‘base’ come to dominate the agathoi ‘noble’, can be correlated with the dissociation of economic, hereditary, and moral criteria for identification of the agathoi. Thus, increasingly complex semantic shifts are created in the basic social, economic, and normative terms of ordinary discourse. A poet who would quicken his community (those who are still truly agathoi ) in circumstances such as these must forge his own ambiguities in the fragile hope that they will be properly understood by precisely those who should understand them.

As can be seen in the contributions of Cobb-Stevens, Edmunds, Ford, and Nagy, the poetry of Theognis is based on the value system of the agathoi ‘noble’, those with whom Theognis associated as a boy, and his seal is the guarantor of the poetry’s aristocratic provenience and its suitability for educating aristocratic youths who will perpetuate its precepts. Chapters 7 and 8, by Daniel B. Levine and John M. Lewis, respectively, show that the poems of Theognis, as a storehouse of advice to a pais ‘boy’ on erotic, sympotic, and civic matters, represent poetry as it informs politics through paideiā ‘education’; for the foundation of Greek political life was the instruction of young boys in the values of their own polis through poetry.

Levine explores an aspect of paideiā in Theognis, which, like paiderastiā ‘love of boys’, provides an instance of semantic fusion in the corpus: the institution of the symposium, it appears, is presented by the Theognidea as a stylized vision of the polis. That is to say, the primary social context of the poetry of Theognis, revealed by Levine to be the symposium, is represented in language that would be appropriate for representing the polis at large. Moreover, the symposium is a microcosm and a model of the larger community, for the characteristics of a well-ordered symposium are the same as those of a good polity. In this forum, where the education of future citizens takes place, two sets of messages are highlighted. First, the social dangers of excess are pointed up through demonstrations of the importance of moderation in sympotic behavior. Second, cunning and duplicity, central to the survival of an embattled aristocracy, receive their apprenticeship in the symposium.

For Lewis, the erotic language of the Theognidea serves as an expression of civic behavior; in other words, the language of love in Theognis is at the same time the language of politics, and paiderastiā is a mechanism for the inculcation of adult citizen roles. An affective terminological system can be outlined wherein the bonds between lovers form the basis of the community of agathoi, and their condition yields a reading on the political and ethical health of the polis. As the polis envisaged by Theognis is degenerate, erotic relationships are filled with pain, in the face of which the lover, assimilated to the hero of epic, endures. In the properly functioning polis, although the onset of eros can be violent, it tames the youth, readying him for socialization. By rejecting paiderastiā, however, the youth leaves the boundaries of human society in a flight from his nature, as symbolized by the myth of Atalanta. So also betrayal of a lover is equated with defection from the elite to its opponents.

The last chapter in the volume, Chapter 9, by Walter Donlan, attempts to assess the Theognidea in Greek sociocultural history. Donlan probes a fundamental dilemma that recapitulates our initial sense that the poetry of the Theognidea represents something "in between," something intrinsically elusive and difficult to define. We have seen in the Theognidea a form of artistic expression that affirms its links with the heroic past and its continuity as proceeding from that past. But, at the same time, we have been struck by the dramatic social changes that are revealed by contrasting Homer on the one hand and Theognis on the other. The poetry of the Theognidea is struggling to maintain values that its own polis cannot seem to realize. The very basis of these values, the bonds of friendship, seems in doubt, and betrayal is an ever-present fear. In Donlan’s words, "The poetic tradition knows what friendship ought to be like, while at the same time it knows what friendship has become." Even in its uncertainty and ambiguity, the poetry reflects the polis.