To readers more accustomed to the orderliness of modern dictionaries, Julius Pollux’s Onomasticon seems an unusual beast.Footnote 1 Written in the second century a.d. and dedicated to the Emperor Commodus, Pollux’s ten-book work sits halfway between an encyclopaedia and a lexicon: words are organized by topic, rather than alphabetically,Footnote 2 as Pollux catalogues the world beginning from the gods (Onom. 1.25–49) and going right down in to the minutiae of the equipment in an ancient bakery (10.112–14) or the objects one might find on top of a table (10.80–94).Footnote 3 Rather than being focussed primarily on Pollux’s contemporary imperial context the Onomasticon is broadly classicizing in outlook.Footnote 4 The Greek it documents is largely that of the sixth to fourth centuries b.c., and is predominantly but not exclusively Attic.Footnote 5 To this end, Pollux quotes a wide range of texts and authors from the Archaic and Classical periods to demonstrate proper word usage and vocabulary, and the Onomasticon is accordingly a rich source of fragments and an important player in the textual transmission of otherwise lost works. The Onomasticon is not, however, a disorganized heap of other people’s thoughts. As studies by Tosi and König have shown, the organization and presentation of information in the Onomasticon reveal Pollux’s cultural and intellectual priorities, his understanding of the relationships between different categories of existence, and the hierarchies of value which structure his practices of citation.Footnote 6
This article examines Pollux’s references to Sappho, which are nine in number and range across Books 3 to 10 of the Onomasticon. Pollux is a significant contributor to Sappho’s secondary transmission; his citations are fewer than Athenaeus’ (who mentions Sappho more than twenty times in the Deipnosophistae), and his quotations are often rather shorter by comparison,Footnote 7 but it is nevertheless important to understand how the Onomasticon contributed to the formation of Sappho’s canon and image in the Imperial period and beyond.Footnote 8 By recognizing the highly unusual way in which Pollux deploys Sappho’s text, we can learn much not only about the Onomasticon but also about the various ways in which Sappho’s corpus has been deconstructed and reconstructed through the interventions of the scholarly tradition before reaching us in its present fragmentary form.Footnote 9
Of Pollux’s nine mentions of Sappho, eight quote her text directly: a critical discussion of a term for ‘husband’ used by Sappho appears at Poll. 3.32 (= fr. 116); fragments of Sappho then appear at 6.98 (= fr. 192), 6.107 (= fr. 81), 7.49 (= fr. 177), 7.73 (= fr. 100), 7.93 (= fr. 39), 10.40 (= fr. 46) and 10.124 (= fr. 54). Sappho is also mentioned at 9.84, where Pollux reports that the people of Mytilene honoured the poet by featuring her on their coins,Footnote 10 a fact which is borne out by archaeological evidence.Footnote 11 A full table of quotations of Sappho in the Onomasticon can be found below at fig. 1. The apparent primary purpose of these citations usually pertains to dialect: Pollux was by no means an inflexible Atticist, and he often quotes Sappho to demonstrate Aeolic vocabulary.Footnote 12

Fig. 1. Sappho fragments in Pollux’s Onomasticon
Some examples in the Onomasticon present a version of Sappho that feels broadly conventional. In Book 3, Pollux quotes her usage of the term γαμβρόν (‘husband’), which fits comfortably with Sappho’s reputation as a composer of wedding songs.Footnote 13 Book 6 sees her in a sympotic context, cited on the topics of drinking cups (6.98) and garlands (6.107), the latter in the company of other authors of sympotic lyric, and therefore accords largely with the image, familiar from Athenaeus, of Sappho as a poet characterized by her ‘privileged expertise in erotic poetry, luxury, and sympotic practices’.Footnote 17 However, when all the citations of the Onomasticon are taken together, a distinct and unusual picture of the poet emerges. Of Pollux’s eight quotations from Sappho’s poems, no fewer than five refer to clothing and textiles: this is a striking preponderance for a poet who despite her gender was more usually associated with the (male) world of the symposium than with (female) interiority and domesticity.Footnote 18
POLLUX, SAPPHO AND THE LEXICOGRAPHICAL TRADITION
Pollux’s presentation of Sappho in this regard does not appear to be the product of a prior source. It does seem likely that Pollux’s knowledge of Sappho came through an intermediary source (or sources) rather than from access to a complete edition of her works. Unlike Athenaeus, who cites Sappho extensively and often at length, and whose protagonists ‘betray by their quotations a deep knowledge of her poetry’,Footnote 19 Pollux’s quotation is more limited, both in the relatively smaller number of his quotations and in the fact that only three of these quote more than a single word (see fig. 1). Moreover, a high proportion of Pollux’s quotations overlap with other sources. In the case of fragments 39, 46, 84, 116 and 192, Pollux quotes a text which is also preserved elsewhere in the secondary tradition; and in all these cases except fr. 192, a longer version is preserved by another author (see fig. 1). On balance, the extent of the overlap between Pollux’s Sappho and other quoting authors makes some form of common source a strong possibility.
The picture for Alcaeus is very similar: Pollux cites him only four times, twice simply reporting the same fact about Alcaeus’ use of metre (4.169, 10.112) and twice quoting text which is also found at greater length in other roughly contemporary authors (2.175 = Diog. Laert. 1.81, 6.107 = Ath. 15.674e; see fig. 1 above), reinforcing the impression that Pollux’s knowledge of Lesbian lyric (unlike, for example, his knowledge of Attic tragedy) is patchy and either the result of secondary sources or otherwise limited only to quite widely known poems.Footnote 20 However, while the evidence suggests that Pollux’s knowledge of Sappho in particular and of Lesbian lyric in general was likely second-hand, the focus on textiles in Sappho appears to be Pollux’s own. While some thematic lexica did exist, most specialized lexica were organized by author or genre.Footnote 21 Moreover, if Pollux had drawn his Sappho quotations from a lexicon or other technical treatise focussed on textiles, we would expect this emphasis to filter into other lexicographical works, which it resolutely does not. Herodian, whose lexical treatise On Anomalous Words is roughly contemporary with Pollux’s work, presents a much more typical picture of Sappho’s poetry, as does Hesychius,Footnote 22 despite the evidence suggesting that Pollux, Herodian and Hesychius may well have drawn on at least one common source.Footnote 23 In sum, all the evidence points to Pollux’s emphasis on textiles in Sappho’s verses being his own.
What, then, is the reason for Pollux’s peculiar construction of Sappho as a poet of the loom? As this article will argue, reading Sappho’s fragments in context within the Onomasticon suggests that, for Pollux, Sappho has a unique value as a witness to the interior world of women. This has the potential to be seen as a reductive portrayal of a female poet, one which puts her back in her place by quite literally domesticating her poetry. However, Pollux’s interest in material reality and in the objects which make up everyday life and experience suggests that, within the context of the Onomasticon, Sappho’s expertise—at least in Pollux’s eyes—in specifically feminine materiality lends her voice a distinctive authority as a source whenever the author seeks to catalogue the female world. In this regard, Pollux is unusual among his imperial contemporaries, for whom Sappho’s femaleness seems much less pertinent in their citations of her poetry.Footnote 24 While the description of her poetry by imperial critics and grammarians as ‘sweet’ and ‘charming’ may have gendered overtones, these descriptors were also applied to male authors,Footnote 25 and neither Plutarch nor Athenaeus treats Sappho in a manner markedly different from other lyric poets such as Alcaeus or Anacreon, who are often cited alongside her.Footnote 26
SAPPHO AND TEXTILES IN THE ONOMASTICON
Pollux’s first citation of Sappho on the subject of clothing appears in Book 7 of the Onomasticon. This book has a focus on trades and crafts, covering topics such as fishmongers (7.26–7), bakeries (7.21–4), leatherworking (7.82–4), metalworking (7.97–100) and woodcutting (7.109–10). A substantial chunk of Book 7 is dedicated to clothing and textiles, from wool-working (7.29–36) and clothes-washing (7.37–41), through to an extensive discussion of the parts of clothing (7.62–9). The first quotation of Sappho in Book 7 occurs in a section concerning the appearance of clothing (7.46.1 ϵἴδη δὲ ἐσθήτων); Sappho is referenced within this context of form and beauty, and the section is packed with poetic quotations.
The discussion is divided rigidly by gender. Pollux begins at 7.46 with ‘the form of masculine clothing’ (7.46.1 ϵἴδη δ’ ἐσθήτων ἀνδρικῶν), quickly citing Homer four times in close succession (Od. 14.154, 7.338; Il. 24.430, 10.134) on the topic of different types of cloak and tunic, epic presumably being a suitably manly source for this manly subject. At 7.48.6, Pollux pivots to unisex clothing (κοινὰ δὲ ἀνδρῶν καὶ γυναικῶν), before offering a deep-dive into women’s smalls (7.49.2 χιτωνίσκους, 7.49.5 μικρόν) and other kinds of fine and diaphanous clothing (7.49.3 ξυστόν, 7.49.5 διαϕανής τις χιτωνίσκος) worn in intimate settings within the home and specifically by women (7.49.5 ἴδια δὲ γυναικῶν). The discussion on this topic is backed up with two literary citations. The first is taken from the opening of Aristophanes’ Lysistrata where a character describes the fine garments worn inside the women’s quarters (43–5 αἳ καθήμϵθ᾿ ἐξηνθισμέναι, | κροκωτοϕοροῦσαι καὶ κϵκαλλωπισμέναι | καὶ κιμβϵρίκ᾿ ὀρθοστάδια καὶ πϵριβαρίδας ‘we ladies who sit around all dolled up in our saffron slips and make-up and Kimberic shifts and boat shoes’). While Pollux cites Aristophanes here for his use of the word ὀρθοστάδια, meaning a straight gown or shift, the chapter also covers ‘Kimberic’ dresses a few lines later; these appear like the krokotos to be thin, see-through garments (7.49.5 διαϕανής), and just the kind of thing that Lysistrata and her companions will use to titillate their menfolk in service of stopping the war with Sparta. It is in this discussion of ‘Kimberic’ dresses that Pollux deploys a single word of Sappho (7.49.4 βϵῦδος, ὡς Σαπϕώ),Footnote 27 which evidently describes an item similar in type to these diaphanous garments. Like the characters of Lysistrata, therefore, Sappho is here used as a testament to those objects which belong to the private, interior world of women.
Sappho’s next appearance in Book 7 is in a more technical context. From 7.71–4, Pollux discusses clothing and fabrics woven from plant fibres, such as linen and flax; and section 7.72 specifically discusses its manufacture (7.72.5 λινουργόν).Footnote 28 Again, this is a chapter implicitly but intrinsically focussed on the women’s quarters; most weaving in the Greek world was part of the domestic economy, and the production of cloth was highly gendered in the ancient imagination.Footnote 29 As in her previous appearance in Book 7, Sappho appears alongside comic poets, who similarly seem, in Pollux’s view, to provide a window on to the interior domestic realm populated by women. Alexis appears as a source of technical professional vocabulary, and is quoted employing the term ‘female linen-maker’ (7.72.5 γυνὴ λινουργός = Alexis fr. 36).Footnote 30 Pollux also cites Theopompus (7.74) and Aristophanes (7.71) on the topic of different types of, and associated names for, finely woven flaxen textiles. Directly before Pollux quotes Sappho, there is a detailed discussion of the parts of the loom on which such fabrics were woven, and a fragment from Pherecrates’ play Antmen is employed to attest to the fact that the central staff which held the fibres was known as the ‘old man’ (7.73.4–5, Pherecrates fr. 119).Footnote 31
Uniquely amongst Pollux’s citations of Sappho, the quotation here locates her line within a book (7.73.6 ἐν δὲ τῷ πέμπτῳ τῶν Σαπϕοῦς μϵλῶν). The quotation (cf. Sappho fr. 100) is unfortunately badly mangled in the extant manuscripts of Pollux, and reads as ἀμϕὶ λάβροις λασίοις ϵὖ ἐπύκασσϵν (‘completely covered round with furious piled linen’). Editors of Sappho have quite reasonably posited that, since ‘furious’ is a peculiar and unlikely description for textiles, λάβροις should be emended to δ᾽ ἄβροισ᾽ (‘delicate’);Footnote 32 this would in fact fit more comfortably within Pollux’s discussion, focussing as it does on the various weaves and textures which can be produced from linen fibres.Footnote 33
In the shadow of the textual issue regarding the adjective (λ)ἄβρος, little attention has been paid to the noun λάσιον, derived from λάσιος (‘shaggy, woolly’), and therefore highly baffling when read in the context of Pollux’s discussion. Linen and hempen fabrics are usually smooth in texture, and, while they may feel coarse if they are not finely woven, shagginess or woolliness seems a peculiar term for a fabric of any kind of vegetable origin. However, if we understand the term λάσιον to mean a weft-looped linen, this enables us to make better sense both of Sappho’s text in fr. 100 and of Pollux’s citation of it. Material evidence suggests that weft-looped linen fabrics were imported into Greece from the Bronze Age onwards; this technique produces a shaggy texture, and was characteristic of Egyptian linen production methods;Footnote 34 when thickly piled, a weft-looped fabric may indeed feel not like woollen fabric but rather like raw fleece, which would explain how it came to be associated with woolliness despite its vegetal origins. Both the quantity of thread and the skill required to produce this kind of fabric would make it a luxury product even when produced locally according to Egyptian techniques, let alone when actually imported.Footnote 35
Understanding λάσιον as a weft-looped linen would accord with Pollux’s other descriptions of this fabric as coarse and hairy (cf. 7.74.4 τῆς δασύτητος) and woolly (cf. 7.74.3 μαλλούς). This would also fit with Sappho’s description in fr. 100 of the cloth as a fine, luxurious product; its rarity is underscored by the fact that λάσιον is only twice attested as a noun.Footnote 36 Moreover, since towelling is similarly made from a looped pile for absorbency, Pollux’s assertion in the lines that follow that a thicker version of this fabric was used for handtowels (7.74.3–4 οὕτω δὲ καὶ νῦν καλοῦσι τὰ μαλλοὺς ἔχοντα χϵιρόμακτρα ὡς ἀπὸ τῆς δασύτητος) again supports an interpretation of λάσιον as a weft-looped linen. Appreciating the particular nature of this fabric allows us to understand better how Pollux positions Sappho with this quotation. This is, in sum, not a word used to describe any generically woolly-textured fabric but a highly specialized technical term for an unusual luxury good whose production demanded enormous skill of its (female) manufacturers. Embedded within a discussion which emphasizes not only the potentially varied material qualities of linen fabrics but also the process of their production (cf. 7.72–3), Sappho’s use of this rare term for a rare fabric underscores her command within the Onomasticon of feminine technical expertise; her verses have unique value for Pollux owing to their detailed attestation of the complex material realities of women’s lives.
Sappho’s final appearance in Book 7 occurs in a lengthy discussion of the form of footwear (7.85 ὑποδημάτων δὲ ϵἴδη). Like the section on the parts of clothing (7.62–9), Pollux’s treatment of shoes is gendered; and as with the citation of Sappho on diaphanous clothing at 7.49.4, again we find the poet confined to the women’s quarters and in the company of the comedians. The discussion begins with men’s footwear, including soldiers’ boots (7.85.2 τὸ μὲν ϕόρημα στρατιωτικόν), before moving to those items worn by both sexes alike (7.90.6 κοινὸν ἀνδράσι πρὸς γυναῖκας) and then finally to those specific to women alone (7.92.3–4 ἴδια δὲ γυναικῶν ὑποδήματα). It is here that Sappho fr. 39 appears as follows:
τὰ μέντοι Τυρρηνικὰ ϵἴη ἂν ὁ Σαπϕοῦς μάσλης
“ποικίλος μάσλης Λύδιον καλὸν ἔργον”.
Sappho’s leather shoe would be Tyrrhenian:
‘An intricately coloured leather shoe, fine Lydian work’.
In addition to its quotation here in the Onomasticon, the fragment is cited in a scholium to Aristophanes’ Peace, which gives a longer version of the quotation. In Pollux’s chapter, this verse of Sappho’s is sandwiched between references to the shoes worn by two goddesses, Artemis and (Phidias’ famous statue of) Athena (7.93.1 ὑπέδησϵ δ’ αὐτὸ Φϵιδίας τὴν Ἀθηνᾶν, 7.93.5 αἱ δὲ ἐνδρομίδϵς, ἴδιον τῆς Ἀρτέμιδος τὸ ὑπόδημα); and it is followed by a series of references to comic poets; the chapter also name-checks two shoes, Persian (7.92.4) and ‘little boats’ (7.93.6 τὰ δὲ πλοιάρια) which are mentioned in the Lysistrata as items specifically put on for the purposes of seduction (Ar. Lys. 229; Lys. 43 discussed above). The section is finished up with a long fragment from Aristophanes’ lost Thesmophoriazusae (Ar. fr. 332), which consists of a list of women’s accoutrements including both clothing and cosmetics. Again, in other words, we find Sappho cited as a source on the subject of female beautification and on items specifically worn by women in a private, intimate setting.
The final two quotations from Sappho in the Onomasticon occur in Book 10 and, though they are still on the topic of textiles, relate not to clothing but to bedding. Book 10 is themed around σκϵύη (‘stuff’) and covers everything from equestrian equipment (10.55–6) and the accoutrements of the bathhouse (10.63–4) and gymnasium (10.62) to writing tools (10.57–60), farming tools (10.128–31) and the various names given to woven baskets (10.179–80). Sappho’s first occurrence in this book at 10.40 is in a discussion of cushions; again, Pollux seems to be working from a secondary source, since his citation of fr. 46 here overlaps with a (longer) quotation from the grammarian Herodian.Footnote 37 Like the discussions of clothing in Book 7 in which Sappho was featured, this section of the Onomasticon is markedly focussed on the interior, domestic realm. Chapter 10.32 sees a discussion of equipment suitable for bedrooms, whose nuptial tone is reinforced through a reference to Aristophanes’ Lysistrata (10.32.7) and through several references to brides (10.33); chapter 10.38 concerns things put on top of couches; chapters 10.44–7 consider chamber-pots and washbasins; and chapters 10.47–50 list the items of furniture one might find next to a bed. In this context, Sappho fr. 46 is quoted primarily as evidence for Attic vs non-Attic terms for cushions. The dialectal variations in cushion terminology seem to have been something of a vexed topic amongst Atticist lexicographers and grammarians, who debated whether the (apparently primarily Ionic) word τύλη could or indeed should be found in Attic prose, as opposed to the (apparently more appropriate) κνέϕαλλον.Footnote 38 In addition to Sappho’s own presence, the gendered associations of cushions are again reinforced through reference to Old Comedy. Aristophanes’ Amphiarus, Antiphanes’ Phaon, Cratinus’ Seasons and Eupolis’ Kolakes are all cited on this topic, and the Eupolis fragment notably sees its cushion in the company of hairnets (fr. 170 κϵκρύϕαλοί τϵ καὶ τύλη), which are a typically feminine accoutrement in comedy.Footnote 39 While Pollux here cites Sappho primarily as an example of Aeolic dialect, the wider context simultaneously attests to her parallel authority within the Onomasticon as a witness to the materiality of the domestic, interior world.
Pollux’s second quotation of Sappho on the topic of bedding occurs some chapters later, at 10.124. The quotation occurs in a section outlining things which are spread on top of couches or beds (10.123.1 πρὸς κοίτην … τὰ μὲν στρώματα), and it is clear from the discussion of cloaks (variously ἱμάτια, χλαῖναι and χλανίδα/χλαμύδα) that follows that these items of dress did double duty as bedclothes. We start in decidedly masculine territory with Homer, specifically with the thick cloak given to Odysseus by Eumaeus, a cloak on which the swineherd usually sleeps (10.123.3 ἐνϵύναιον = Od. 14.51); the chapter then turns to military attire, specifically to the shorter cloaks worn by horsemen (10.124.5 τὸ λϵπτὸν χλανίδα, καὶ τὸ ἱππικὸν χλαμύδα). The discussion then takes an unexpected turn towards women’s articles and those items which populate the women’s quarters (10.125.1 γυναικωνίτιδος), specifically wool baskets (10.125.1 ταλάρους καὶ καλάθους) and other wool-working equipment such as carding combs (10.126.7 ξάνιον), scissors (10.126.8 ψαλίς) and weights (10.126.3 σταθμά); the link is presumably that these are the tools used in the manufacture of the thick woollen cloaks which have been discussed in this section, which are suitable both as clothing and as bedding (and were presumably used as both of these things by soldiers on campaign).
It is at the point of this pivot from the male world of campaigning to the female world of wool manufacture that Sappho appears. Her vocabulary is contrasted with Attic usage (cf. 10.124.4 οἱ μέντοι Ἀττικοί), and Pollux claims that she is the first to use the word χλαμύς, quoting as evidence the following line: ἐλθόντ’ ἐξ ὀρανῶ πορϕυρίαν ἔχοντα προιέμϵνον χλαμύν (10.124.7 = Sappho fr. 54), ‘coming from on high with his purple cloak he let it fall’; Pollux informs us that the line described Eros.Footnote 40 The garment here is of a type with the military cloaks discussed directly before it, and perhaps fits Eros’ role as messenger dispatched from the heavens.Footnote 41 As befitting the god of love, however, the item is considerably more luxurious than the thick woollen cloaks worn by mortal soldiers, and is coloured using expensive porphyry dye. Unlike the other cloaks described in this section, which are merely thick (10.123.8 τὰ παχέα ἱμάτια) for warmth or short (10.124.5 τὸ λϵπτὸν χλανίδα) for horse-riding, the emphasis here is on the appearance of the fabric, not just on its functionality, with a nod to the process of dying which would produce the purple colour. The fragment therefore provides an appropriate pivot into the discussion of wool working which follows immediately after it, just as Sappho’s name signifies a turn away from the masculine world of soldiering and into the private world of women. Like the poet herself in other words—defined by her status as a female writer yet at home in the literary world usually dominated by men—this citation sits suspended in-between.
CONCLUSIONS: A MATERIAL GIRL IN A MATERIAL WORLD
When read in isolation, each instance of Sappho’s verses within the Onomasticon might not strike us as strongly feminized. However, when read as a group, Pollux’s citations of Sappho combine to present an unexpected image of a poet whose authority is not only dialectal, as a source of non-Attic forms, but also material, as a witness to the tangible objects which make up the literal fabric of women’s lives. The focus on objects is not surprising given the catalogue form of the Onomasticon, and Pollux likewise mines Aeschylus’ tragedies for words concerning berries (6.46) and storage chests (10.10), Demosthenes’ speeches for coins (9.63), and Thucydides’ history for roof-tiles (7.161). However, Pollux’s markedly gendered reception of Sappho is unusual both within the Onomasticon itself and in the context of her reception by other contemporary authors. Unlike Pollux’s quotations of male poets of monodic lyric such as Anacreon—cited on topics such as wine (6.22–3, 10.70), garlands (5.96, 6.107), perfume (7.177) and music (4.61)Footnote 42 —or Alcaeus, found in discussions of wreaths (6.107) and cup measurements (4.169), Sappho’s appearances are not predominantly sympotic in tone or content, but are conspicuously centred on textiles, their production and their role in the markedly gendered space of the domestic interior.
Pollux’s quotations of Sappho are often found alongside comic plays focussed on female characters, such as Aristophanes’ Lysistrata, which similarly give the impression (albeit a problematic one, given their male authorship) of offering a clandestine glimpse into the otherwise hidden world of women’s private space. Given the dynamics of this act of male spectatorship, we might expect Pollux’s vantage point as he discusses these topics to have at the very least a sexual undercurrent and for his quotations from Sappho to have some erotic qualities. However, what we find instead is that Pollux’s emphasis on everyday materiality makes his Sappho almost mundane, as her fabrics are stripped of any sensuous potentiality or association with the eroticized body, appearing instead in catalogue form. This is not the only aspect unexpectedly absent from Pollux’s quotations. The language of weaving is regularly deployed by poets as a metaphor for their own artistic production,Footnote 43 and the fragments of Sappho do indeed provide two instances where weaving is given a metapoetic charge (cf. frr. 1 and 102).Footnote 44 While we can imagine that Sappho’s poetry may well have tapped into the suggestive network of associations between women, weaving, guile and song, Pollux leaves us none the wiser on this front.
Detached from both erotic and metapoetic resonances, and confined to the women’s quarters, it is possible to read Pollux’s version of Sapphic materiality as almost an act of belittlement, and this element of chauvinism may well be present in such an overtly gendered reception of a female poet. However, Pollux’s Sappho is also a poet remade in his own image. In the material world of the Onomasticon, Sappho becomes in turn an emblem of (feminine) materiality, whose apparent preoccupation with the fabric of everyday life productively mirrors the encyclopaedia’s own. This refashioning is made possible precisely by Sappho’s status as a poet who is already to Pollux in the second century a.d. something of a lacuna. In contrast to his contemporary Athenaeus, whose extensive and wide-ranging citations of Sappho’s poetry suggest familiarity with her wider corpus, Pollux’s knowledge of Sappho seems to have been more limited. Unlike poets such as Homer or the three canonical tragedians, whose works were evidently well known both to Pollux and to his readership, the paucity of Sappho’s verses in the Onomasticon provides a gap into which Pollux can project his own (mis)representation of a poet characterized more by who she was than what she wrote. In the Onomasticon, therefore, Sappho’s distinctive and unusual identity as a female poet eclipses her actual verses, whose remnants in turn assume the characteristics of the text in which they are newly embedded. As such, while every author quoted within the Onomasticon of course to some degree assumes the materialist qualities of the catalogue, I would argue that it is precisely the fact that Pollux has so little knowledge of Sappho that allows him to read those verses he does possess so emphatically against the grain of her wider reception in the Imperial period. Moreover, the distinctiveness of Pollux’s reception suggests an author (indeed, a scholar) actively intervening as a reader of Sappho’s fragments, rather than a compiler who simply reproduces prior sources within the narrow confines of his lexicographical project and whose characterization of Sappho’s work is an incidental product of that act of compilation.
As a reader whose relationship to Sappho is shaped by fragmentariness, Pollux’s engagement with Sappho’s verses in many ways resembles our own, and the Onomasticon’s version of Sappho is accordingly both a constituent part of, and a foil to, her wider reception. Sappho’s identity and the biographical tradition associated with her seem to have become detached from her poetry at quite an early stage, and yet this semi-autonomous figure of ‘Sappho’ in turn came to shape her corpus as it was fragmented and reconstructed by the secondary tradition.Footnote 45 This feedback loop and the resulting unrecoverability of both the poet and her voice within it have generated a productive space for receptions both ancient and modern.Footnote 46 Pollux’s version of Sappho as a poet of feminine materiality should be firmly located within this (re)creative hermeneutic tradition.
Both Sappho and her corpus are defined by, and a product of, fragmentation. As DuBois has argued, Sappho ‘exemplifies lack’,Footnote 47 and stands in awkward opposition to ‘our need to constitute antiquity as a whole and the “Greeks” in particular as coherent objects’.Footnote 48 However, her fragmentariness also offers interpretative possibility. Sappho’s poetry is often about lack and longing;Footnote 49 and this is paralleled in our own impossible desire for her wholeness as a poet, so that fragmentation in fact amplifies these poetic topoi of desire unfulfilled and unfulfillable by writing them into the very form of her text. Similarly, the enigmatic quality of the absent lovers in Sappho’s remaining verses, described memorably by Peponi as ‘half-palpable in [their] specific traits and half-evanescent’,Footnote 50 is only increased by a process of fragmentation which places them even further from our view.
What, then, does Pollux’s specific fragmentation of Sappho in the Onomasticon offer us interpretatively? At a more prosaic level, Pollux’s peculiar version of Sappho should alert us to just how vulnerable the poet and her work have been to the agendas of her transmitters. Pollux is surely not unique in reshaping Sappho to fit his own ends, and, while his version of Sappho is indeed an unusual outlier, the norm of Sappho as a poet of exquisite longing—both at home in, and somehow alien to, the male sympotic world—is also the product of an exiguous secondary tradition (one in which Athenaeus, as so often, looms large, bringing his own framework and agenda).Footnote 51 Pollux’s Sappho offers us one concrete example of how Sappho’s status as a specifically female poet determined her transmission. More than this, however, Pollux’s reception of Sappho can spur us to appreciate a materiality in her poetry with fresh eyes, and to reflect on how the offcuts of her verses found in the Onomasticon render her as a poet caught between yearning absence and tangible quotidian presence—a quality only intensified by the fragmentary state in which we encounter her both in Pollux and elsewhere.