scholarship; in addition to the possibility of forgery, Egyptian law has since 1983 prohibited the domestic antiquities trade and has established definitively that all archaeological sites and objects are the property of the state. Any papyrus that cannot be proven to have been exported before that date therefore falls into a legal—not to mention ethical—grey area (see further discussion of ethics, below).
Physical Description and Layout
Before an editor begins to transcribe a text, all aspects of the physical papyrus are measured and described:
the dimensions of the fragment(s)
the color and quality of the papyrus
the direction of the fibers
the location and size of holes
the direction and orientation of any folds
the presence of any sheet-joins (= kollēseis)
the extent of the header, footer, margins, intercolumnar space, and leading (= the space between lines), where extant
the number of lines, letters per line, and width of the lines
the size of the letters
the presence of marginalia, symbols, or corrections (see further, below)
if the obverse also preserves writing, it is similarly scrutinized
Among the insights potentially resulting from physical examination is the type of ancient book from which the fragment derives (i.e., bookroll or codex). But more significant findings are possible, as well. New analyses of the columns in P.Oxy. 10.1232, for example, have clarified the organization of Sappho fr. 44 (Sampson 2016; de Kreij 2020). Regularly recurring folds or wormholes, similarly, can permit the modeling of a bookroll, facilitating the placement of fragments (or columns) relative to one another. And where the fibers of the papyrus align, disparate fragments can be rejoined with some confidence.
Palaeography
A familiarity with ancient handwriting styles (and their evolution) is essential for the papyrologist: due to abrasion, dirt, holes, or other damage, letters can be quite unclear and educated guesswork is therefore inevitable. In order to produce good readings, it is often necessary to produce an alphabet of letter shapes drawn by a particular scribe, the recourse to which helps to narrow the possibilities for fragmentary letters.
Palaeography is also important for assigning a date to the text. Although this is true of both documentary and literary texts, documents can helpfully include a dating formula while literary texts lack such an internal indication (unless the papyrus has a document on its obverse side!). The differences between the two kinds of text are often obvious even to an untrained eye; unlike the cursive scripts of rapid documentary hands, whose analysis often requires specialized training, those of professionally produced ancient books can be remarkably elegant (Figures 7.4 and 7.5). Their features have been analyzed and categorized in several scholarly studies: in some cases, the handiwork of an individual scribe can even be identified (e.g., Johnson 2004: 16–37). But not all literary texts are the product of professional workshops: the text of PSI 13.1300, the so-called Sappho ostracon (= fr. 2), for example, is very corrupt, and the hand that transcribed it, while practiced, is less regular than that of a formal bookroll (Figure 7.6). This poem, coincidentally, continues to challenge its editors and interpreters.
Figure 7.4 P.Tebt. 2.684 (= Pindar, Ol. 9 and 10). The clear script is an example of biblical majuscule. (Courtesy of the Center for the Tebtunis Papyri, University of California, Berkeley.)
Figure 7.5 P.Tebt. 2.620 descr., a receipt for poll-tax. The rapid script is an example of a documentary cursive. (Courtesy of the Center for the Tebtunis Papyri, University of California, Berkeley.)
Figure 7.6 PSI 13.1300 (= Sappho fr. 2) (Florence, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, inv. 22008. Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali.)
The Readings
Literary papyri are often published in parallel, with a diplomatic edition (i.e., the raw, visible text) alongside an edited text (i.e., articulated, normalized, and reconstructed)—as with the two editions of P.Fouad inv. 239, Figure 7.1. Each is ideally accompanied by a critical apparatus: the former’s describes the traces of ink and the possibilities for individual letters where there is doubt, the latter’s the emendations or conjectures of other scholars, conventionally by way of a compressed, abbreviated Latin (Figure 7.7). Each apparatus is important: understanding what the editor saw on the papyrus is the necessary precursor to a reanalysis of the readings, and any second-guessing of the editor’s judgment regarding the articulated text is similarly facilitated by a catalog of alternatives. A good editor is therefore honest and humble in addition to being meticulous and learned.
Figure 7.7 Critical apparatus of the “new” Simonides elegy on Plataea (= P.Oxy. 22.2327 + 59.3965), in abbreviated Latin as per convention. (The New Simonides: Contexts of Praise and Desire, edited by Deborah Boedeker and David Sider, 2001, ca. 600w from p. 19. By permission of Oxford University Press, USA.)
The movement from individual letters to a fully articulated text is where editors shine. Ancient scribes, for one thing, wrote in scriptio continua (i.e., without spaces between the words). Holes or other gaps in legibility, moreover, obstruct the analysis of letters into separate words. But even where the letters are clear enough, scribal error, peculiarities of dialect, or (rarely) new additions to the lexicon can perplex, invite emendation, or otherwise hinder the production of recognizable, articulated Greek. Editorial intervention, in other words, is an inevitable part of the job, and everyone who makes use of texts preserved on papyrus must therefore appreciate the countless decisions that make up an edition’s artifice. But although they deserve our profound gratitude, editors’ judgment is not sacrosanct, and every intervention is subject to interrogation (and, potentially, revision). The study of papyri—and especially literary papyri—is perpetually work-in-progress.
Some best practices are commonly recognized: “Youtie’s law,” for example, advises against emendation in the vicinity of a lacuna—iuxta lacunam ne mutaveris. But editors occasionally disagree in their approaches to a text, the most significant case in point of which is the treatment of textual supplements. Where a supplement is obvious or where grammar demands a particular form, most casually supply it in the service of continuous text; when only a few letters are missing, such interventions are relatively benign. But with more substantial lacunae, the impulse to supplement
