California Studies in Classical Antiquity: Volume 12 [Reprint 2020 ed.] 9780520330085

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California Studies in Classical Antiquity Volume 12

CALIFORNIA STUDIES IN CLASSICAL ANTIQUITY Volume 12

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS BERKELEY • LOS ANGELES • LONDON

C A L I F O R N I A S T U D I E S IN CLASSICAL A N T I Q U I T Y

Senior Editors: William S. Anderson and Jaan Puhvel Advisory Editors: Crawford H. Greenewalt, Erich S. Gruen, Philip Levine, and Robert F. Renehan VOLUME 12

The poppy motif used throughout California Studies in Classical Antiquity reproduces an intaglio design on a bronze finger ring of the fourth century B.C., from Olynthus; D. M. Robinson, Excavations at Olynthus 10 (Baltimore 1941) 136, pi. 26, no. 448.

ISBN 0-520-04055-4 Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 68-26906 University of California Press Berkeley and Los Angeles California University of California Press, Ltd. London, England © 1981 by The Regents of the University of California

CONTENTS

HERBERT ABRAMSON A Hero Shrine for Phrontis at Sounion?

1

EVELYN ELIZABETH BELL The Swing Painter's Amphora in San Simeon

21

STANLEY M. BURSTEIN Bithys, Son of Cleon from Lysimachia: a Reconsideration of the Date and Significance of IG II2 808

39

WILLIAM MUSGRAVE CALDER III Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff on Sophocles: A Letter to Sir Herbert Warren

51

TERESA CARP Teiresias, Samuel, and the Way Home

65

ANDREW R. DYCK On the Composition and Sources of Cicero De officiis 1.50-58

77

ARTHUR M. ECKSTEIN The Foundation Day of Roman Coloniae

85

INGRID E. M. EDLUND Etruscan and Faliscan Vases in the World Heritage Museum, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign

99

NEIL FORSYTH The Allurement Scene: A Typical Pattern in Greek Oral Epic

v

107

VI

Contents

BERNARD FRISCHER On Reconstructing the Portrait of Epicurus and Identifying the Socrates of Lysippus

121

DAVID K. GLIDDEN Sensus and Sense Perception in the De rerum natura

155

VIVIENNE J. GRAY Two Different Approaches to the Battle of Sardis in 395 B.C. 183 BONNIE M. KINGSLEY The Reclining Heroes of Taras and Their Cult

201

CHARLES E. MURGIA The Length of the Lacuna in Tacitus' Dialogus

221

CHARLES E. MURGIA A Fragment of Servius in San Francisco

241

WILLIAM H. RACE The End of Olympia 2: Pindar and the Vulgus

251

ROBERT RENEHAN The Meaning of 2QMA in Homer

269

DAVID SWEET Juvenal's Satire 4: Poetic Uses of Indirection

283

List of Illustrations

Abramson, Herbert, A Hero Shrine for Phrontis at Sounion? Fig. 1. Sounion area plan (after Dinsmoor, Jr. plan facing p. 1). Fig. 2. The southern end of Poseidon Hill, Sounion (after Staes, 1917 pi. 4). Fig. 3. "Heroon" just west of the Altis of Olympia (after E.N. Gardiner, Olympia fig. 50). Fig. 4. Athena Hill site plan (after Dinsmoor, Jr. plan p. 38). Fig. 5. Small temple north of the temple of Athena, Sounion (after Staes, 1920 pi. 5). PI. 1:1. Proto-attic plaque attributed to the Analatos Painter (after Cook, BSA 35 [1934-1935] pi. 40b). PI. 1:2. Severe style relief of youth adjusting his wreath (after Picard fig. 3). Bell, Evelyn Elizabeth, The Swing Painter's Amphora

in San Simeon

PI. 1:1-2. San Simeon, Hearst State Historical Monument, no. 5476. Attic blackfigured amphora. Photographs courtesy of D. A. Amyx. PI. 2:1-4. San Simeon, Hearst State Historical Monument, no. 5476. Attic blackfigured amphora. Photographs courtesy of D. A. Amyx. PI. 3:1-4. San Simeon, Hearst State Historical Monument, no. 5476. Attic blackfigured amphora. Photographs courtesy of D. A. Amyx. PI. 4:1-2. London, British Museum no. B 185. Attic black-figured amphora. Photographs courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum. PI. 5:1-2. Once Basel Market. Attic black-figured amphora. Photographs courtesy of Dr. Herbert A. Cahn. PI. 5:3. Athens, Agora Museum no. P 13523. Attic black-figured neck-amphora, fragment. Photograph courtesy of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Edlund, Ingrid E.M., Etruscan and Faliscan Vases in the World Heritage University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign

Museum,

PI. 1:1 and 2. Stemmed Plate (Inv. no. 15.3.42). Courtesy, World Heritage Museum. Photo.: Caroline Buckler.

VII

viii

List of

Illustrations

PI. 2:1-4. Two-handled Cup (Inv. no. 15.3.41). Courtesy, World Heritage Museum. Photo.: Caroline Buckler. PI. 3:1 and 2. Oenochoe (Inv. no. 22.1.89). Courtesy, World Heritage Museum. Photo.: Caroline Buckler. PI. 4:1-3. Stemmed Cup (Inv. no. 22.1.88). Courtesy, World Heritage Museum. Photo.: Caroline Buckler. PI. 4:4. Stemmed Cup (Inv. no. XX.11.29). Courtesy, World Heritage Museum. Photo.: Caroline Buckler. Frischer, Bernard, On Reconstructing Socrates of Lysippus

the Portrait of Epicurus

and Identifying

the

Fig. 1. Map of the Villa Ludovisi. Deborah Nourse Lattimore after Schreiber. PI. 1:1. Bouchardon-Preisler, "Epicurus philosophus," from Statuae Antiquae, 1732. PI. 1:2. Reconstruction of Epicurus' statue according to Frischer by Deborah Nourse Lattimore. PI. 2:1. Ludovisi Epicurus ( = statue 243, Schreiber). Photo: DAI Rome. PI. 2:2. Bouchardon-Preisler, "Socrates philosophus," from Statuae Antiquae, 1732 ( = statue 240, Schreiber). PI. 3:1. "Puteanus" Epicurus, frontispiece to P. Gassendi, De Vita et Moribus Epicuri, 16471. PI. 3:2. "Howenius" Epicurus, frontispiece to P. Gassendi, De Vita et Moribus Epicuri, 16562. PI. 3:3. Ludovisi statue 245, Schreiber. Photo: Arndt-Amelung, Einzelaufnahmen. PI. 4:1. Engraved gem of Epicurus, published in 1707 by Maffei as an "Unknown Philosopher." PI. 4:2. "Dorsch" Epicurus, from J. M. von Ebermayer, Capita Deorum et IIlustrium Hominum, 1721. PI. 4:3. Stosch "Xenocrates" gem, Antikenabteilung Berlin. Photo: Staatliche Museen Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Antikenabteilung Berlin. PI. 5:1. Bellorius "Xenocrates," from Veterum Illustrium . . . Imagines, 1685. PI. 5:2. Albani "Diogenes the Cynic" ( = Stosch "Epicurus"), Museo Capitolino. Photo: Frischer. PI. 5:3. Albani "Epicurus," Museo Capitolino. Photo: DAI Rome. PI. 6:1. Bottari's illustration of the Albani "Epicurus" before removal of the fake EPICURUS inscription, Museo Capitolino, 1741 (?). PI. 6:2. Montfaucon "Diogenes" relief from the Sarcophagus of the Muses. PI. 7:1. Bottari's illustration of the Epicurus-Metrodorus double herm found in 1742 S. Maria Maggiore in Rome, Museo Capitolino, 1741 (?). PI. 7:2. Line drawing of the Socrates relief from the Sarcophagus of the Muses, from Maffei, Raccolta di statue, 1704. PI. 8:1. New statue of Epicurus from Athens with book-roll in left hand (Dontas A). PI. 8:2. Statuette of Socrates in the British Museum (Photo: British Museum).

List of

Illustrations

ix

Kingsley, Bonnie M., The Reclining Heroes of Taras and Their Cult PI. 1:1. Cast and mould, reclining hero with rhyton, J. P. Getty Museum inv. 75.AD.43. PI. 1:2. Detail of cast, fig. 1. PI. 1:3. Sketch, fragments of clay plaque from Pentaskouphi. (By courtesy of Helen Geagan.) PI. 1:4. Fragment, hero with chelys reclining on a ketos. (Inv. 20.221, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1920.) PI. 1:5. Reclining hero with phiale, University Museum, Philadelphia, inv. MS 1977. (Photo, Michael Keene.) PI. 1:6. Centaur bearing reclining hero. (Inv. 20.219, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1920.) PI. 2:1. Head of youth, University Museum, Philadelphia, inv. MS 1965. (Photo, Michael Keene.) PI. 2:2. Head of bearded male, University Museum, Philadelphia, inv. MS 1953. (Photo, Michael Keene.) PI. 2:3. Head of bearded male, University Museum, Philadelphia, inv. MS 1858. (Photo, Michael Keene.) PI. 2:4. Head of youth, University Museum, Philadelphia, inv. MS 1919. (Photo, Michael Keene.) PI. 2:5. Helmeted youth, University Museum, Philadelphia, inv. MS 1908. (Photo, Michael Keene.) PI. 2:6. Fragment, hero and horse, University Museum, Philadelphia, inv. MS 1940. (Photo, Michael Keene.) PI. 2:7. Helmeted youth with shield, University Museum, Philadelphia, inv. MS 1910. (Photo, Michael Keene.) PI. 2:8. Horseman wearing shield and garland. (Inv. 10.210.56, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1910.) Murgia, Charles E., A Fragment of Servius in San Francisco PI. 1. The Rosenthal fragment.

HERBERT ABRAMSON

A Hero Shrine For Phrontis At Sounion?

I. " L ' H E R O O N D E P H R O N T I S AU S O U N I O N . "

Charles Picard, writing in 1940, asserted that he had solved the last remaining topographical question pertaining to Sounion. 1 This was the identity of the enclosure with rounded exterior corners built up against the late fifth-century fortification wall just northeast of the sanctuary of Poseidon (figs. 1 and 2). A postern gate in the fortification wall served as entrance to the enclosure. The latter measures 14.20 m. by 17.25 m. and is built of carefully laid ashlar masonry. The lower part of the walls is of marble, the upper part of limestone. The walls are two courses thick. They survive to a height of 4.00 m. in places. There were no signs of roofing materials. Some traces of paving and a small rectangular foundation just south of the entrance to the enclosure survive. Although stelai are reused in its structure and it is built up against two projecting towers of the fortification, Picard believed that the enclosure was contemporary with the fortification. 2 Small finds from the enclosure were limited to spear heads, sling balls, and a cog-wheel. 3 Picard compared the entire assemblage to the "Heroon" just west of the altis of Olympia (fig. 3). 4 The latter is a rectangular structure consisting of a porch on the long west side and two smaller rooms, both of which are entered from the porch. This structure was built not long after Pheidias' workshop, but owes its current name to an altar of the Hellenistic period in the northern room. The word r|pci)7rcov v f j a KuPepvfjcrai, 67i6xe cra£p%oiev &eXXai. But when we came to holy Sounion, the cape of Athens, there Phoibos Apollo, with a visitation of his painless arrows, killed the

A Hero Shrine for Phrontis at Sounion?

3

FIG. 2. The southern end of Poseidon Hill, Sounion (after Staes, 1917 pi. 4). steersman of Menelaos, the one who held in his hands the steering oar of the running ship. This was Phrontis, Onetor's son, who surpassed all the breed of mortals in the steering of a ship whenever stormwinds were blowing. 6 Menelaos, who until then had been sailing with Nestor, stayed to bury his companion and give him his due rites: 6 jxev evfla K(XT£CT%£T', eTceiyojievog Ttep 08010, otpp' giapov MTIXOV Kai ¿711 xxepsa xxepiaeiev.

So Menelaos, though straining for the journey, was detained there, to bury his companion, and give him due rites.7 Picard took the death and burial of Phrontis as the poet's acknowledgment of an already existing cult of the steersman at the cape. 8

4

Herbert

Abramson

FIG. 3. "Heroon" just west of the Altis of Olympia (after E. N. Gardiner, Olympia fig. 50).

In support of his identification Picard adduced two main pieces of evidence, a Protoattic plaque and a severe-style relief (pis. 1:1 and 1:2).' These, however, come not from the rectangular enclosure but rather from the sanctuary of Athena some 500 m. to the north. The plaque was found in a deep pit east of the temple of Athena. 10 It is broken off at the left side. Its surviving dimensions are 0.15 by 0.09 m. The right half, with a hole for suspension in the upper corner, survives intact. The painting is of a ship underway. Although six oars are visible, the rowers are completely hidden by the deck and sides of the ship. 11 Five hoplites, armed with helmets, shields, and two spears each, stand on the deck. The thickset steersman sits in the stern and controls the ship with two very large steering oars. It is indeed tempting to identify this figure with Phrontis who died with the steering oar in his hands. One could hardly ask for a more appropriate dedication to a steersman hero. The severe-style relief, found very close to the surface of the artificial fill east of the temple of Athena, is not definitely linked to a cult of Phrontis, yet might not be inappropriate. 12 This relief is broken at the top and bottom. The surviving dimensions are 0.61 by 0.49 m. The

Plate 1

Abramson

1. Protoattic plaque attributed to the Analatos Painter (after Cook, BSA 35 (19341935) pi. 40b).

2. Severe style relief of youth adjusting his wreath (after Picard fig. 3).

A Hero Shrine for Phrontis at Sounion?

5

beginnings of a palmette finial are evident to the left of the figure's upraised hand. A well-muscled, athletic looking young man adjusts a crown of victory, added in metal, on his head. Only the holes for the attachment of this metallic headpiece survive. Both Picard and Lullies interpreted this half life-size stele as a victor's thank offering. Picard speculated that Phrontis may have been the patron of the naval games that were a part of the Lesser Panathenaia and thus the recipient of the dedication. 13 In summary, Picard interpreted the Homeric account of the death and burial of Phrontis as an aition for a cult of the steersman. He attempted to identify the shrine itself in the marble enclosure built up against the late fifth-century fortification that defends the sanctuary of Poseidon. He supported his interpretations with a very appropriate plaque dating to the first decade of the seventh century and a relief of about 460 B.C. II. T H E B E G I N N I N G S OF H E R O W O R S H I P A N D P H R O N T I S

Although Picard postulated both a cult and shrine for Phrontis, a companion of Menelaos, there are few references to "L'Heroon du Phrontis" in the growing body of literature addressed to the thorny question of hero worship in the "age of Homer." 14 Boardman took note of the heroon only to dismiss it because the Protoattic plaque was found so far from it. 15 Berard merely called attention to the shrine in his survey of heroa. 16 But before accepting or rejecting Picard's identification of the enclosure, the possibility of the presence of a cult must be examined against this body of literature. This is especially the case because the text of Homer gave Picard an initial basis for speculation. Affirmations or denials that hero worship was practiced in the Homeric age have been based on the evidence of the epics themselves, archaeological fijids, or some combination of literary and physical material. On the surface, hero worship is absent from the Homeric epics.17 Upon the death of a warrior the soul went to the underworld and continued as a strengthless image or eidolon.™ The survivors burned the body, collected the bones, and heaped a mound over them. 19 The mound then became a source of continuing kleos or fame both for the victim and, especially, for the conqueror. 20 Yet, in spite of the prominence of the tomb and the one-time importance of the person buried in it, neither the remains nor the eidolon commanded regular libations or sacrifices. According to L.R. Farnell, who relied almost totally on the evidence of the poems, the spread of the epics engendered hero cult. 21

6

Herbert

Abramson

W.K.C. Guthrie called hero worship "a flat denial of Homer's strengthless dead." 22 This interpretation gained archaeological support when J.M. Cook published the results of his excavations at the Agamemnoneion, about one kilometer south-southwest of Mycenae. 23 He noted the absence of hero cults in the Homeric poems, the Late Geometric date of the earliest pottery at the Agamemnoneion, the similar date of the earliest clear dedications at the Menelaion in Therapne, and the presence of Late Geometric offerings at several Bronze Age tombs, such as the tholos at Menidi. He concluded that the worship of heroes began in the Late Geometric Period and reflected the spread of the epic. G.S. Kirk accepted Cook's conclusions.24 Cook's work meshed very neatly with that of G.E. Mylonas who at about the same time maintained, "There seems to be no definite evidence that will prove or even indicate the existence of a general cult of the dead in Helladic times. . . ." "The cult of the dead seems to have become popular in post Mycenaean, late Geometric times." 25 Mylonas further demonstrated that the supposed continuity of cult from the Bronze Age to the Geometric Period did not really exist at the tholos of Menidi and the tomb of the Hyperborean Maidens on Delos, as Nilsson had thought. 26 Thus the failure to establish continuity of cult at Menidi and on Delos, taken together with the large number of Late Geometric offerings at Bronze Age tombs, supported the view that the epics did encourage the foundation of hero cults. 27 Yet upon closer examination of the cult of the dead in Homer, one finds more than one level of practice and belief. Helpless and cultless dead may have been the general rule, but both Rohde and Stengel saw in the elaborate funeral of Patroklos an aura of mollifying the soul. They interpreted the elaborate funeral as a survival of an ancient worship of the dead. 28 Rohde also considered the sacrifices which Odysseus made and promised to Teiresias in order to aid his return to Ithaka to be like later sacrifices to heroes. 29 Teiresias alone among the dead had the powers of will and understanding. 30 The portrayal of the Dioskouroi does not harmonize with the usual picture of Homer's strengthless dead. In the Iliad they are dead under the earth, but in the Odyssey they are cult figures who are alive on alternate days and receive honor equal to gods'. 31 Deneken maintained that the elevated status of the Dioskouroi in the Odyssey acknowledged the cult which had developed since the composition of the Iliad.32 The promise to Menelaos that after death he would live in the Ely-

A Hero Shrine for Phrontis at Sounion?

7

sian Fields may be another example of the poet's recognizing a cult, that of Helen and Menelaos in Therapne.33 Finally, as Coldstream recently noted, Homer himself described the hero cult of Erechtheus.34 Athena had established Erechtheus in her own temple. As the years went by the Athenians propitiated him with rams and bulls.35 In view of comparisons of the Homeric heroes to gods, the powers which Teiresias had after death, the sacrifice offered to Teiresias, the treatment of the Dioskouroi in the Odyssey, and the propitiation of Erechtheus in the Iliad, T.H. Price concluded that Homer knew about hero worship.36 In answer to the question why Homer did not have numerous examples of worship at the tombs of warriors, Price followed R.K. Hack, who maintained that this was the case because the action in Homer's poems took place in the time of the Trojan War. The generation of god-descended men who fought in the Trojan War was regarded in antiquity as among the first to have been recipients of cults. Therefore descriptions of the lifetimes of heroes ought not to include scenes of hero worship as an everyday activity.37 Closer examination of the physical remains of early hero shrines reveals more complexities than Cook or Mylonas saw. If one posits no continuity in shrines from the Bronze Age to the Geometric Period, there must be no exceptions. But an exception is readily available in the cave of Odysseus and the nymphs on the bay of Polis in Ithaka.38 This cave was functioning as a shrine in the thirteenth century B.C. The popularity of tripod dedications suggests that as early as the late ninth century the ancients identified this cave as that in which Odysseus hid tripods and other gifts brought from Phaiakia.39 Benton convincingly assigned cups decorated with concentric loops and ruled triangles to the period transitional between the Late Bronze Age and the Protogeometric Period.40 The Late Geometric Period house at the intersection of Marathonomachon and Telephanous Streets in the Academy district of Athens served an ancestral cult that definitely went back to the eighth century B.C., and possibly to the tenth.41 The house was filled with sacrificial remains, ashes, and pottery. While sacrifices were being made in the Geometric house, the foundations of an oval house of the EH II Period were visible a few meters to the north.42 Stravropoullos proposed that when the oval house was accidentally discovered in the eighth century, its original inhabitant was identified as Akademos, the eponymous hero of the district.43 A votive deposit of some 200 kantharoi, found 150 m. away, shows that a cult existed in the Academy from the late tenth century.44 But whether these kantharoi were offered to the cult figure who was later honored in the Geometric house remains a question.

8

Herbert Abramson

Quite recently, J.N. Coldstream thoroughly reviewed the archaeological evidence for hero cults in the age of Homer while keeping at hand the passages of the Iliad most suggestive that the poet had knowledge of such cults. He concluded that the spate of Late Geometric offerings at tombs in Messenia, the Argolid, Boiotia, and Attika, where the Iron Age tombs were radically different from the Bronze Age chamber and tholos tombs, reflects the influence of the epics.45 Yet at the same time he saw the Athenian young men's propitiation of Erechtheus as proof that "Homer himself was aware of hero-worship."46 He maintained that the cults of Erechtheus, Akademos, and Odysseus have a "higher antiquity" than those which started in the Late Geometric Period.47 In places, such as Athens and Ithaka, which did not suffer powerful discontinuities at the end of the Bronze Age, "local heroes may have been venerated all through the Dark Age, long before the circulation of the Homeric epic. . . ." 48 Thus it seems reasonable to conclude that (i) there were some hero cults before the "age of Homer," (ii) the epics are not completely free of signs of hero worship, and (iii) a considerable number of cults were inspired by the spread of the epics. H I . A S H R I N E FOR P H R O N T I S AT S O U N I O N ?

With these conclusions in mind we may return to Cape Sounion. Following the burial of Phrontis, Menelaos went on his way, but Zeus had a storm off Maleia drive the fleet off course. The winds forced Menelaos to land in Egypt, where he raised a tumulus in honor of his brother and tarried for eight years. Was the death of Phrontis vital for the development of the narrative? Could Zeus not have caused the storm to separate the ships of Menelaos and Nestor and force one of them off course without killing the steersman? I believe Picard was correct; it seems possible to understand the narrative as an aition for a cult which the poet knew at the cape. But even if this were not the poet's intention, a hero cult surely would have developed, just as one sprang up near Mycenae, possibly on the spot where Agamemnon was believed to have been murdered.49 Several epic heroes had their tombs or shrines on promontories or by the sea. The tomb of Achilles and Patroklos dominated a promontory that jutted into the Hellespont.50 The mound that Menelaos raised for Agamemnon in Egypt was on the coast.51 Pandion, son of Kekrops, died in Megara and was buried on a promontory sacred to Athena.52 Melikertes had an altar at the Isthmus on the spot where he was believed to have been washed ashore.53 Kinados, another steersman of Menelaos,

A Hero Shrine for Phrontis at Sounion?

9

had his tomb on Cape Onougnathos on the southeast coast of the Peloponnesos. 54 Odysseus, the hero with the strongest marine connections, received worship in a cave on the shores of Ithaka. 55 In all probability there was a shrine of Phrontis at Cape Sounion. Either it inspired Homer's account of Menelaos' actions at Sounion, as Picard and I believe, or it arose in response to the epic. Yet Picard's identification has found virtually no acceptance. His comparisons of the enclosure with the "heroon" outside the altis in Olympia were very strained. Aside from being rectangular and giving entrance on the west the two structures have little in common. Further, the "heroon" in Olympia became a shrine only in the Hellenistic Period; originally it may have served as a bath. 56 Studies more recent than Picard's have shown that the enclosure at Sounion was Hellenistic in date and probably served to support a platform for catapaults. 57 W.B. Dinsmoor, Jr. labels it a bastion on his plan of Poseidon Hill and suggests that the corners were rounded for extra strength. 58 Indeed, Vitruvius advised against square towers because the angles made them vulnerable. 59 The spear heads and round stone balls found inside the enclosure support its identification as a bastion. 60 Finally, as J. Boardman pointed out, the Protoattic plaque and the severe-style relief were found within twenty meters of the temple of Athena, approximately 500 m. north of the temple of Poseidon, far from the hypothetical heroon. 61 Thus the likelihood that the rectangular enclosure was a bastion in combination with the absence of any finds in or near it appropriate to a hero shrine totally invalidates Picard's identification. But at the same time it seems most probable that Phrontis did have a shrine at Sounion. We might begin the search for a shrine with the location of Picard's most convincing piece of physical evidence, the Protoattic plaque. The plaque comes from a rock-cut pit southeast of the temple, but within the temenos of Athena (fig. 4).62 This pit, 15 m. deep, measured approximately 1.70 by 3.00 m. at the top and narrowed to 1.00 by 0.50 m. at the bottom. Its original purpose is uncertain. Staes suggested a well, Dinsmoor a mine. From the ninth century B.C. it was used as a bothros for the deposition of offerings. When the eastern part of the hill was filled in the second half of the fifth century to provide a level surface for the construction of the temple of Athena, the builders covered the pit. The unbroken state of most of the offerings recovered from the pit proves that they were carefully deposited rather than thrown. The deliberate inclusion of the pit in the new temenos walls shows that the spot was venerated. Two iron swords, possibly of the ninth century B.C.,

10

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Abramson

FIG. 4. Athena Hill site plan (after Dinsmoor, Jr. plan p. 38). come from the bottom of the pit. 63 Nothing datable to the early or middle eighth century was found, but beginning at the end of the eighth or early seventh century the pit began to be filled with various votive objects. These included terracotta figurines of men, women, and horses. The pottery included Protocorinthian aryballoi and oinochoai and various plastic vases. 64 In addition to the plaque mentioned above, twenty-nine other fragments or entire plaques came to light. 65 The painting on most of these has completely disappeared. The bronzes included miniature tripods, miniature shields, and pins and clasps. 66 Similar dedications, pottery, and one gold and six silver rings came from the fill east of the temple of Athena. 67 Aside from these small dedications, a lead kouros and fragments of five marble kouroi also came from the fill. 68

A Hero Shrine for Phrontis at Sounion?

11

Some of these dedications easily could have been made to Athena. Yet others such as the swords, plaques, shields, tripods, and horses are frequently found in hero shrines. Votive swords were found in the ashbearing strata in the north and northwest part of the Olympion Pelopion. 69 A large iron sword, almost identical to the examples from Sounion, was wrapped around the amphora containing the remains of a warrior buried in the Athenian Agora at about 900 B.C.70 The Late Geometric heroes worshipped near the West Gate of Eretria were buried with their swords. 71 Fragments of five votive plaques, their paint worn off, were found among the heroic offerings in the dromos of the tholos in Menidi. 72 Votive plaques also come from a Protoattic deposit in an oval structure near the southwest corner of the Athenian Agora. One of them has a female raising high her arms between two snakes. The symbolism is at least chthonic, very possibly heroic. 73 A fragmentary terracotta pinax came from the pit with heroic offerings west of the Panathenaic Way. 74 Two plaques, one with traces of paint surviving, were found in a context of Geometric and Protocorinthian pottery in the Menelaion at Sparta. 75 A plaque with decoration in relief, a kneeling man and a goat feeding on a bush, comes from the Agamemnoneion near Mycenae. 76 The votive deposit in the oval structure at the southwest corner of the Athenian Agora contained terracotta shields, 77 as did the dromos of the tholos at Menidi. 78 A terracotta shield was among the offerings in the pit west of the Panathenaic Way in the Athenian Agora. 79 Miniature lead shields come from the Menelaion in Sparta. 8 0 Fragments of actual shields come from the archaic strata on the east and southeast slopes of the Pelopion in Olympia. 81 A votive tripod of bronze was found placed inside a kantharos in the votive deposit in the oval structure at the southwest corner of the Athenian Agora. 82 Remains of tripods come from the ash-bearing strata beneath the Archaic Pelopion. 83 Tripods were offered to Odysseus in Ithaka and Ptoios, the hero of Akraiphia. 84 Miniature horses are found at most hero shrines including the Agamemnoneion, the Pelopion, the tholos at Menidi, the shrines in Athens to which reference has been made above, two heroic enclosures recently discovered in Corinth, the Menelaion, and the shrine of Ptoios. 85 Nor are goddess figurines necessarily inappropriate for heroes. They are found in the Agamemnoneion and in the enclosure built to honor a male of the Protogeometric Period in Corinth. 86 Female as well as male figurines were found among the dedications made to Ptoios on the lower terrace of the sanctuary that he shared with a goddess. 87

12

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Can the heroic dedications from the pit and artificial fill near the temple of Athena be connected with a surviving shrine? On the northern part of the hill is an oval períbolos wall of the Archaic Period that only partially survives. It encompassed an area of thirty by forty meters. 88 Slight traces of a rectangular structure of more than one room have been uncovered in the southern part of this períbolos. Staes had suggested that the períbolos was a sanctuary. 89 A Classical temenos runs up against the Archaic enclosure. This enclosure contains not only the temple of Athena and pit filled with dedications but also an ideal candidate for a shrine to Phrontis. The main structure in the Classical temenos is of course the temple of Athena, which is well known for its unusual plan. 90 But there is another sacred building in the períbolos, a small one-roomed temple. I propose that this temple, 8.5 m. north of the Athena temple, was the shrine of Phrontis during the Classical Period (fig. 5). 91

FIG. 5. Small temple north of the temple of Athena, Sounion (after Staes, 1920 pi. 5).

A Hero Shrine for Phrontis at Sounion?

13

This temple has an east-west orientation slightly different from that of the temple of Athena. The single room of the temple measures 4.97 by 6.80 m. on the exterior. The two surviving plinths for the columns of a porch (measuring 0.82 by 0.95 m. each) are 1.60 m. in front of the temple.®2 The facade was marble, the rest of the cella was local stone. The interior and exterior walls were coated with a limestone plaster. The interior walls and floor were painted red. A reused statue base (1.08 by 1.33 by 0.40 m.) was found inside. It is made of two pieces, one of which had been turned upside down since its original use. The top, in its reused state, contains a rectangular socket for the reception of a plinth. The socket measures 0.80 m. long by 0.50 m. wide. The left foot of the statue was advanced. The foundations of an altar (1.55 by 2.66 m.) lie in front of the temple but are not oriented to it. Dinsmoor suggests that the altar may have been associated with an older building which has left no trace. Staes called the small temple Archaic, but Dinsmoor says it is Classical." Early in his guide to Sounion, Dinsmoor noted that the plaques found in the pit in the sanctuary of Athena were "suitable for dedications to a hero." 94 He suggested, although he did not say why, that the statue base was more suitable for a hero than for a divinity.95 B.S. Ridgeway accepted, even thought probable, the presence of a cult of Phrontis at Sounion, but says of the identification proposed above, "It has been suggested that it (the small temple) could belong to a hero, but it is of standard temple form and was probably for a divinity." 96 The assertion that temples were for divinities and the implication inherent in this assertion that other types of shrines were for heroes distorts the varied nature both of heroes and of hero shrines. The heroes of Classical times included not only the epic heroes, but also ancient daimones or divinities (such as Hyakinthos) who under the pressure of the Olympian gods descended to the ranks of heroes; historical figures who were given elevated status for bravery in war or for founding a city or institution; historical figures of known or unknown identity whose souls were thought to demand appeasement; transparent eponymous creations such as Parnassos; and equally transparent functional creations such as Taraxippos, the confuser of horses. Both ancient and modern writers dispute whether certain heroes, such as Amphiaraos, the hero of epic worshipped as a god at Oropos, were fallen divinities or elevated mortals. 97 The very learned student of Greek religion, J. Fontenrose, questions whether there is even a real distinction to be made between gods and heroes in earliest times: ". . . the farther back one goes into early Aegean religion, the more one wonders whether the distinction can be maintained for the earliest period, and whether god

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and hero alike are not derived from a daimon who was closely related to ghosts on the one hand, and who was a superhuman power on the other."98 Given the various possibilities pertaining to the origin of heroes and the fact that some heroes were worshipped as gods, is it any wonder that some heroes have temples as shrines? Ajax, for example, had a temple in the agora of Salamis. The temple, in ruins in Pausanias' day, still contained an ebony cult statue." The Classical remains of the temple of Helen and Menelaos at Therapne provide a good example of the heroon as a small temple.100 Isokrates was informed that both Menelaos and Helen received divine honors there, so it is safe to assume that the temple contained cult statues.101 Yet the pair who were believed to be buried there were figures of epic and their cult local.102 A small temple, platform, and many dedications found on a hill southeast of Sparta are incontrovertibly linked to Menelaos and Helen.103 This temple, also without a peristyle, measured 5.45 by 8.60 m., dimensions not very different from those of the small temple in Sounion. Ptoios, an oracular hero, had a shrine on the north slope of Kastraki, near the village of Akraiphia in Boiotia. He too had a small temple, roughly nine by four and a half meters, as a shrine. There are two altars fifteen meters northwest of the temple.104 Both the small size of the shrine in Sounion and the location of the small temple off to one side of the major temple have parallels in the temenos of Pelops near the temple of Zeus in Olympia, the temple of Palaimon near the temple of Poseidon at Isthmia, the enclosure of Neoptolemos near the temple of Apollo at Delphi, and the tomb of Iphigeneia near the temple of Artemis at Brauron.105 The existence of a shrine of Phrontis has not been proven. Yet Homer's treatment of Phrontis suggests that a cult existed as early as the late eighth century B.C. The earliest remains at Sounion are the offerings in the pit near the temple of Athena. Since nothing comparably early has been found in the sanctuary of Poseidon, it is probably due to a cult in the temenos of Athena that Homer described Sounion as hiron. The swords, bronzes, and terracottas have parallels in the offerings made at well-studied hero shrines. The size and location of the small temple in the temenos of Athena again suggest comparison with several other heroa in sanctuaries of divinities. That Pausanias said nothing about a cult of Phrontis at Sounion is not significant. His treatment of the promontory is poor. He mentioned only one temple and probably mistook the temple of Poseidon for that of Athena.106 The combination of literary, dedicatory, and architectural evidence makes it extremely likely that the steersman of Menelaos, perhaps

A Hero Shrine for Phrontis at Sounion?

15

identified with a local daimon of Sounion, received offerings in the small temple to the north of the shrine of Athena. When the goddess came to the promontory, Phrontis might have welcomed her. She is, after all, the protector of heroes, goddess of skills, the sometime enemy of Apollo, and far less tempestuous than Poseidon. Franklin and Marshall College Lancaster, Pennsylvania

NOTES The abbreviations used in the notes are those recommended in the A M 80 (1976) 1-8, together with the following: Andronikos: Athenian Agora XIV: Benton (1935): Benton (1936): Berard: Boardman: Burr: Coldstream: Cook: Deneken:

Dinsmoor, Jr.: Farnell: Guillon (1936): Guillon (1943): Kirk: Mallwitz: Olympia IV: Picard:

M. Andronikos, Totenkult: Archaeologia Homerica I1I:W (Göttingen 1968). H.A. Thompson and R.E. Wycherley, The Agora of Athens: The Athenian Agora XIV (Princeton 1972). S. Benton, "Excavations in Ithaka, III: The Cave at Polis, I , " BSA 35 (1934-1935) 45-73. S. Benton, "A Votive Offering to Odysseus," Antiquity 10 (1936) 350. C. Bérard, L'Hérôon à la porte de l'Ouest: Eretria III (Bern 1970). J. Boardman, "Painted Votive Plaques and an Early Inscription from Aegina," BSA 49 (1954) 183-201. D. Burr, "A Geometric House and a Proto-Attic Votive Deposit," Hesperia 2 (1933) 542-640. J.N. Coldstream, "Hero-cults in the Age of Homer," JHS 96 (1976) 8-17. J.M. Cook, M. Holland, M.S.F. Hood, and A.G. Woodhead, "Mycenae, 1939-1952," BSA 48 (1953) 1-93. F. Deneken, "Heros," Roscher s Ausführliches Lexicon der griechischen und römischen Mythologie, 1:2 (1886-1890) 24412589. W.B. Dinsmoor, Jr., Sounion (Athens 1971). L.R. Farnell, Greek Hero Cults and Ideas of Immortality (Oxford 1921). P. Guillon, "Les Offrandes en Terre-cuite de la terrasse supérieure de Castraki (Ptoion)," BCH 60 (1936) 416-427. P. Guillon, Les Trépieds du Ptoion (Paris 1943). G.S. Kirk, The Songs of Homer (Cambridge 1962). A. Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten (Munich 1972). A.D. Furtwängler, Die Bronzen und die übrigen Kleinfunde: Olympia IV (Berlin 1897). C. Picard, "L'Hérôon de Phrontis au Sounion," RA 6th ser., 16 (1940) 5-28.

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Price: Rohde: Staes (1917): Staes (1920): Stavropoullos (1958): Thompson, 1958: Wace, Thompson, and Droop: Williams, 1973: Wolters:

Th. H. Price, "Hero-Cult and Homer," Historia 22 (1973) 129144. E. Rohde, Psyche, translated from the 8th ed. by W.B. Hillis (New York 1925). V. Staes, "Souniou Anaskaphai," ArchEph (1917) 168-213. V. Staes, To Sounion (Athens 1920). Ph.D. Stavropoullos, "Anaskaphe Archaias Akademeias," Praktika 1958 (1965) 5-13. H.A. Thompson, "Activities in the Athenian Agora: 1957," Hesperia 27 (1958) 145-160. A.J.B. Wace, M.S. Thompson, and J.P. Droop, "The Menelaion," BSA 15 (1908-1909) 108-157. C.K. Williams, II, "Corinth, 1972: Forum Area," Hesperia 42 (1973) 1-44. P. Wolters, "Vasen aus Menidi, II," Jdl 14 (1899) 103-135.

Many of the conclusions presented here were first formulated in my thesis, "Greek Heroshrines" (Ph.D. dissertation, University of California at Berkeley 1978), and read as a paper, "L'Heroon de Phrontis au Sounion Reconsidered," at the 79th General Meeting of the AIA, Atlanta, Ga., 30 December 1977. A debt of thanks is owed to Mr. W.B. Dinsmoor, Jr. who kindly allowed me to reproduce his excellent plans of Sounion. I am also grateful to Professor Homer A. Thompson for reading this manuscript and making several useful suggestions. These scholars are not, of course, responsible for any errors or deficiencies in this paper. 1. Picard 5. 2. Picard 8; cf. Staes (1917) 171-172; Dengate: "Observations on the Sounion Fortifications," AJA 71 (1967) 185-186; Dinsmoor, Jr. 29-31. 3. Picard 18. 4. Picard 8, 17-18; cf. F. Adler, R. Borrmann, W. Dörpfeld, F. Graeber, and P. Graef, Die Baudenkmäler von Olympia: Olympia II (Berlin 1892) 105-107, figs. 59-60, pis. 71-72; E.N. Gardiner, Olympia: Its History and Remains (Oxford 1925) 204-205, fig. 50-51; Mallwitz 266-269. 5. Adler (supra n. 4) 165; W. Dittenberger and K. Purgold, Die Inschriften: Olympia V (Berlin 1896) no. 662, col. 605, figs. a - k . 6. Translation of R. Lattimore, The Odyssey of Homer (New York 1965). 7. Od. 3.284-285. 8. Picard 13. 9. Picard 19-24. 10. Athens, National Museum 3588; J.M. Cook identified it as a work of the Analatos Painter, "Protoattic Pottery," BSA 35 (1934-1935) 173, pi. 40b; Kirk, "Ships on Geometric Vases," BSA 44 (1949) 119-120, fig. 7; Boardman 198, note 151; R.M. Cook, Greek Painted Pottery1 (London 1974) 67. 11. Conceivably the pairs of short lines extending from the deck to the oars could be the hands of the rowers. Kirk 120 (supra n. 10) thinks they are the loops which held the oars to the thole pins. 12. Athens, National Museum 3444; Staes (1917) 204-205 thought that it did not belong in the fill at all, but had been buried there by illicit dealers in antiquities. But his conviction that the relief had to be funerary and therefore inappropriate for a sanctuary of Athena may have prejudiced him; idem (1920) 53; Picard fig. 3; R. Lullies and M. Hirmer, Greek Sculpture, rev. and enlarged ed. (New York 1960) 70-71, pi. 96; B.S. Ridgway, The Severe Style in Greek Sculpture (Princeton 1970) 49, fig. 70. 13. Picard 18. 14. I will follow Kirk who accepts the eighth century "as the probable date of the composition of the Iliad—and probably too, close to its end, of the Odyssey." "Again, the formation of the large scale Odyssey might easily have been as late as the first years of the seventh century," Kirk

A Hero Shrine for Phrontis at Sounion?

17

287. Coldstream puts the age of Homer "within the approximate limits of 750 and 650 B . C . , " Coldstream 8. 15. Boardman 198 n. 151. 16. Berard 63. 17. M.P. Nilsson, A History of Greek Religion2 (New York 1964) 135-136; cf. Andronikos 1-37. 18. II. 23.100. Od. 10.495; 11.207; 11.219-220. 19. II. 1.52; 6.416-420; 7.427-432. Od. 12.11-15, etc. 20. It. 7.84-91. 21. Farnell 340-342. 22. W.K.C. Guthrie, The Greeks and their Gods (Boston 1951) 267. 23. Cook (1953); idem, "The Cult of Agamemnon at Mycenae," in Geras Antoniou Keramopoullou (Athens 1954) 113-115. 24. Kirk 51 and 285. 25. Mylonas, "The Cult of the Dead in Helladic Times," in Studies Presented to D.M. Robinson on his Seventieth Birthday (1951) 105. Mylonas did think that Grave Circle A in Mycenae was an exception to the general absence of such cult. 26. G.E. Mylonas, Mycenae and the Mycenaean Age (Princeton 1966) 181-186; M.P. Nilsson, Geschichte der Griechischen Religion1 (Munich 1955) 380 and 382. Andronikos does not accept Mylonas' conclusions in spite of the absence of Dark Age pottery at both Menidi and Delos, Andronikos 128. Price supports Mylonas on the absence of continuity, Price 131. 27. The distribution of Bronze Age tombs which received offerings is summarized in A.M. Snodgrass, The Dark Age of Greece: An Archaeological Survey of the Eleventh to the Eighth Centuries B.C. (Edinburgh 1971) 194-195 and Coldstream 9-12. 28. Rohde 12; P. Stengel, Die Griechischen Kultusaltertiimer (Munich 1920) 139; cf. the burial of witless Elpenor whose eidolon threatened to become the curse of the gods, i3e(bv |ar|vi|xa, if his body went unburied, Od. 11.70-78. 29. Rohde 36-37; cf. Deneken 2456; Farnell 134; F. Robert, Thymele: Recherches sur la signification et la destination des monuments circulaires dans I Architecture religieuse de la Grece (Paris 1939) 164. 30. In addition to other offerings Odysseus slaughtered two sheep over a pit in order to attract the dead and promised to sacrifice a black ram once in Ithaka, Od. 10.515-530; 11.25-33 and 50. 31. It. 2.243-244. Od. 11.298-304. 32. Deneken 2456. 33. Od. 4.561-570; Deneken 2455-2456. 34. Coldstream 16. 35. It. 2.548-551. " . . . the Athenian contingent was led by the feeble Menestheus, in himself the weightiest argument against this passage being a later Athenian insertion," Coldstream 16. 36. Price 142. 37. Price 129 and 133; Hack, "Homer and the Cult of Heroes," TAPA 60 (1929) 60. 38. Benton (1935), idem (1936). 39. Benton (1935) 52-53, and 58, nos. 1 and 2, 64 and 113, pis. 10-17, figs. 14-17; Benton (1936) 350; "The series of tripods runs parallel with that of Olympia beginning with two examples of the small, functional vessels which are unlikely to be later than 800 B.C.," Coldstream 16. 40. Benton, "Excavations in Ithaka, III: The Cave at Polis, II," BSA 39 (1938-1939) 16-17, pi. 9a, no. 1; cf. nos. 2-6. 41. Stavropoullos (1958); J. Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens (New York 1971) 50, fig. 62; H. Drerup, Griechische Baukunst in geometrischer Zeit: Archaeologia Homerica l l . O (Gottingen 1969) 21-32; Price 142; Coldstream 16. 42. Stavropoullos, "Anaskaphe Archaias Akademeias," Praktika 1956 (1961) 53-54. 43. Stavropoullos (1958) 8. 44. Stavropoullos (1958) 8-9, pi. 6. 45. Coldstream 12-14. 46. Coldstream 16.

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47. Coldstream 15. 48. Coldstream 17. 49. Od. 4.617; Cook 113. 50. Od. 24.80-84. 51. Od. 4.580-585. 52. Paus. 1.5.3; 1.39.6. 53. Paus. 2.1.3. 54. Paus. 3.22.10. 55. Benton (1935) 45; idem (1936) 350. 56. Mallwitz 269. 57. Young, "An Epigram at Sounion," Studies Presented to D.M. Robinson (St. Louis 1951) 11.353-357; cf. Dinsmoor, Jr. 11 and 31. 58. Dinsmoor, Jr. plan p. 9. 59. "The towers therefore are to be made round or polygonal. For engines more quickly demolish square towers, because the battering rams beat and break the angles; whereas in the case of rounded surfaces, even when they drive the battering rams wedge fashion towards the center, they cannot hurt them," Vitr. De Arch. 1.5.5, translation of Frank Granger. 60. Dinsmoor, Jr. 31; cf. Staes (1917) 170-171; idem (1920) 39-40. Staes' interpretation of the enclosure as a granary is as unconvincing as Picard's heroon; cf. Picard 9-13. 61. Boardman 198 n. 151; Dinsmoor, Jr. 2 and 4; Staes (1917) 207-209. 62. Staes (1917) 207-213; idem (1920) 48-55; Dinsmoor, Jr. 2-4, plan p. 38. 63. Staes (1917) fig. 18. A.M. Snodgrass, however, dates them to the seventh or sixth century, possibly as early as the Late Geometric, Early Greek Armour and Weapons (Edinburgh 1964) 96, nos. 26 and 27. Cf. infra note 70. 64. Staes (1917) fig. 20. 65. Staes (1917) 209, fig. 18. 66. Staes (1917) 207, fig. 18. 67. Staes (1917) 207, fig. 17. 68. Staes (1917) 202-204, figs. 13-15. These are the only Attic kouroi besides those excavated from a pit east of the temple of Poseidon that come from a votive rather than funerary context, B.S. Ridgway, The Archaic Style in Greek Sculpture (Princeton 1977) 52. 69. Olympia IV 2-3, pi. 62. 70. Blegen, "Two Athenian Grave Groups of about 900 B.C.," Hesperia 31 (1952) 279-282, 289 no. 1, fig. 3, pi. 75c. 71. Berard 13-25, 31, figs. 2, 3, pis. 9.37, 10.40. 72. Wolters 121; H.G. Lolling, Das Kuppelgrab bei Menidi (Athens 1880) 5-6; Boardman 198. 73. Burr 604-607, figs. 72-73; Boardman 197. Burr originally interpreted the structure as a house unrelated to the votive deposit, 550-551. But more recently it has been called a "temenos open to the sky," Thompson (1958) 160. 74. Thompson (1958) 150, pi. 421; Athenian Agora XIV 119. 75. Wace, Thompson, and Droop 117, fig. 2.2, pi. 6.28. 76. Cook 61-62, fig. 35. 77. Burr 609-614. 78. Wolters 118-121. 79. Thompson (1958) 150, pi. 42k; Athenian Agora XIV 119. 80. Wace, Thompson, and Droop figs. 7.25-30, 8.31, 32-34. They are identical to the shields carried by miniature armed warriors, also of lead, fig. 10.1-25. 81. Olympia IV 3. 82. Burr 621, fig. 87. 83. Olympia IV 2-3, pi. 27; F. Willemsen, Dreifusskessel von Olympia: Olympische Forschungen III (Berlin 1957) 161, 163. 84. Benton (1935) 52-53, pis. 10-17, figs. 14-17. 85. Cook 64; Olympia IV 2-3, pi. 62; Wolters 112; Burr 617-621; cf. the nearby triangular

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"hieron," Lalonde, "A Fifth Century Hieron Southwest of the Athenian Agora," Hesperia 37 (1968) 131, pl. 36e; Williams, 1973 pi. 3; idem, "Corinth, 1973: The Forum Area," Hesperia 43 (1974) pi. 5; idem, "Corinth, Excavation Report, 1977," Hesperia 47 (1978) 10; Wace, Thompson, and Droop pi. 5.76; Guillon (1936) 422-427; idem (1943) 11.89 and 91. 86. Cook 62-63; Williams (1973) pi. 33. 87. Guillon (1936) 422-427; idem (1943) 11.89 and 91. Interestingly, no male figurines were found on the higher terrace, which honored a female divinity. 88. Dinsmoor, Jr. plan p. 38. 89. Staes (1920) 41. 90. Vitr. De Arch. 4.8.4. 91. Staes (1917) 187-188; idem (1920) 42-43; Dinsmoor, Jr. 50-51. 92. Staes (1917) 188 idem (1920) 42. 93. Staes (1920) 42; Dinsmoor, Jr. 50. 94. Dinsmoor, Jr. 4. 95. Dinsmoor, Jr. 51. 96. Ridgway (supra, n. 68) 52. 97. Paus. 1.34.1; cf. Fauth, "Amphiaraos," Der Kleine Pauly 1 (1964) 308; Deneken 2448; Farnell 61. 98. Fontenrose, "The Cult and Myth of Pyrros at Delphi," University of California Publications in Classical Archaeology 4:3 (1960) 211 n. 32. 99. Paus. 1.35.3. Other heroes and less than Olympian figures who had temples include Pandrosos, Paus. 1.27.3; Amphiaraos, Paus. 1.34.2; Kyamites, Paus. 1.37.4; Hippolytos, Paus. 2.32.1; Klymenos, Paus. 2.35.9; Hipposthenes, Paus. 3.15.7; Menelaos, Paus. 3.19.9; Achilles, Paus. 3.19.11; the Dioskouroi, Paus. 2.22.5; 3.20.2; Kassandra, Paus. 3.26.5. 100. Wace, Thompson, and Droop pi. 5. 101. Isoc. 10.63. 102. Paus. 3.19.3. 103. Catling, "Archaeology in Greece, 1975-1976," AR 22 (1976) 14. 104. Guillon (1943) 11.70 and 198, pis. 9-11. 105. Mallwitz fold-out plan; O. Broneer, Topography and Architecture: Isthmia II (Princeton 1973) plan 3; Lerat, "Fouilles de Delphes (1934-1934): Rapport préliminaire," RA, 6th ser., 12 (1938) pl. 1; Papadimitriou, "Sanctuary of Artemis at Brauron," SciAm 208 (1963) fig. p. 114. 106. Paus. 1.1.1.

EVELYN ELIZABETH BELL

The Swing Painter's Amphora in San Simeon

The Swing Painter is one of the most fascinating and amusing artists of mid-sixth-century Attic black-figure. Probably a pupil of the Princeton Painter, he is known to have decorated more than 150 vases, most of them amphorae of type B and neck-amphorae, in the period ca. 550-525 B.C.1 The Swing Painter is a good minor artist whose works, though of varying quality, sometimes rise to a fairly high level of artistry. He paints in a facile, lively, but often careless style, paying little attention to narrative detail, a fact which may render his scenes difficult to interpret. His repertoire includes many unusual and enigmatic themes, as, for example, the girl on a swing which appears on both his name-vase in Boston and a neck-amphora in the Louvre2 or the stilt-walkers on an amphora in Christchurch.3 Even when he represents a traditional motif, the Swing Painter tends to treat it in an unorthodox manner. A case in point is his picture of Ajax and Kassandra at the Palladion on a neck-amphora in the Noble collection, in which Ajax and Athena are present but the heroine Kassandra is not. 4 The artist's style is easy to recognize from his characteristic figure types, among which are the draped man or god seated on a folding stool, the striding warrior, the figure walking out of the picture panel, and the attentive spectator swathed in drapery. Perhaps unintentionally he often introduces humor into his compositions through his puppetlike figures with their inquisitive expressions, sharp profiles, and extended necks, features that, as Beazley has observed, make them look like geese. 5 Coincidentally, it is with animals that the Swing Painter seems to have

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Bell

had a particular sympathy, for his beasts, especially his horses, possess a vigor and sense of realism often lacking in his human figures. Composition is not one of our painter's strong points; his schemes, especially on the earlier vases, such as an amphora in Rochdale, 6 usually consist of figures arranged in a row or in a simple overlapping pattern. On his later works, as, for example, an amphora in Richmond, 7 the compositions may be more involved, but they still correspond to essentially the linear or overlapping type. A true colorist, the Swing Painter delights in hue and pattern, as revealed by his lavish treatment of dress, subsidiary ornament, and accessory details, such as the rosette-studded altar on his amphora in Cincinnati. 8 DESCRIPTION

The salient characteristics of the Swing Painter's style, in particular his unorthodox and imaginative treatment of subject matter, vigorous rendering of horses, and liberal use of color and pattern, are manifest in the representations on a long neglected panel-amphora in the collection of the Hearst San Simeon State Historical Monument (Plates 1-3).' Although it was published in 1927 in the Sotheby sale catalogue of the Holford collection, and probably was seen by Sir John Beazley when he visited the Hearst Castle in 1941, this vase until now has received little attention from scholars, perhaps partly due to its need for cleaning and conservation. 10 The Swing Painter's amphora in San Simeon is a standard type B with a flaring mouth, heavy round handles, and an inverted echinus foot. Standing 50.3 to 50.6 cm. tall, it is one of the largest amphorae of this type decorated by the artist. 11 The pictures are set in broad panels, framed above by friezes of alternately upright and inverted lotus-andpalmette elements. The base of the vessel is decorated with thirty-one black-glazed rays. On the underside of the foot, there is a graffito: ^ . A similar graffito appears beneath the foot of an amphora in Naples, dated to the middle of the sixth century. 12 The figurative decoration of the San Simeon amphora consists of two picture panels, the one on side A displaying a scene of youths with horses, Athena, and a woman; the other, on side B, containing two probably independent figure groups: a warrior and a woman, and a nude warrior striding towards a seated man. The former picture (Plates 1:1; 2:1-4) may represent the Dioskouroi with their sister Helen, or their mother Leda, and the goddess Athena. At left a muscular nude youth

The Swing Painter's Amphora in San Simeon

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carrying a spear, possibly Polydeukes, walks to the left as if moving out of the panel. He wears his hair long, as many mid-sixth-century kouroi do.13 This youth is partly obscured by a young horseman, clad in a white chitoniskos and Thracian mantle, with a spear in one hand, who rides to the right leading a spare horse. In front of him and forming the focal point of the composition, there appears the goddess Athena, wearing a peplos decorated with a pattern of checks filled with circles and a tallcrested "Attic" helmet. She wears a fillet and holds a spear. She directs her attention towards a second nude youth, conceivably Kastor, whose long hair is bound with a fillet. He stands to the right between two restless horses, steadying them, with his hand resting on the withers of the near animal. Standing at the horses' heads is a woman, perhaps Helen or Leda, dressed in a peplos decorated with vertical red panels, and wearing a fillet. She once held a spear (still visible) in her right hand, which has been repainted with the palm held open. In the picture on side B of the San Simeon amphora (Plates 1:2; 3:1-4), the artist appears to have represented two separate incidents in the Ilioupersis, the recovery of Helen and the death of Priam. He may have intended to depict the abduction of a woman, perhaps Helen, but this interpretation seems less probable than the first. At left a bearded warrior, let us say Menelaos, who carries a spear and wears a chitoniskos decorated with rosettes and bands of trimming, a chlamys, a tall-crested and filleted helmet, and greaves, turns to the left as he looks back at a woman, whom he appears to be leading away. The woman, who may be Helen, is portrayed as a suppliant. Facing left and dressed in a peplos and a himation patterned with rosettes, she raises a fold of her mantle with her right hand and gestures with her left, as if entreating the warrior. Beyond the woman, a bearded warrior strides to the right towards a man, who sits facing him on a folding stool. The warrior, possibly Neoptolemos, is nude except for a low-crested, filleted helmet and greaves. He carries a spear, point upward, and a round shield, whose porpax is decorated at each end with a palmette. The seated man, who is conceivably King Priam, sits quietly, dressed in a himation adorned with rosettes and a decorative hem and holding a staff in his left hand. His right hand, which has been repainted, lies stretched out on his knee. The king is bearded and wears his hair short. An unusual feature of this representation, if it be of Neoptolemos and Priam, is the folding stool, which replaces the traditional altar of Zeus. Generous amounts of red and white color enliven both this picture and the one on the opposite side of the vase.14

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The amphora of type B was the shape most frequently decorated by the Swing Painter. In the lists of his works in ABV and Paralipomena, there are 75 type B amphorae, to which we may add the vase in San Simeon and one in Toledo, recently attributed to the artist by Dietrich von Bothmer.15 The Swing Painter's second favorite shape was the neck-amphora, of which we have 41 examples from his hand.16 Both vase shapes, but in particular the panel-amphora, provide broad fields for decoration, which the artist needed to accommodate his substantial figures and ambitious compositions. The Swing Painter's master, the Princeton Painter, also preferred to work on amphorae of type B, as did most of the artists in the circle of the Swing Painter. The amphora in San Simeon (Plates 1-3), the height of which is about 50.45 cm., is large in comparison with most of the panelamphorae by the Swing Painter, which have an average height of 40 cm. Near to it in size are Cincinnati 1959.1 (H. 49.5 cm.) and Boston 89.257 (H. 52.0 cm.). 17 The relative proportions of our amphora are closely paralleled by those of the amphora in Toledo, which is a slightly smaller vase (H. 44.5 cm.). A summary analysis of the shapes of a small, select group of amphorae of type B decorated by the Swing Painter and other members of his circle has shown that there exists a remarkable uniformity between them in size and in the ratios of the diameter of mouth, body, and foot to the height. Furthermore, the patternwork of these vases is comprised of the same standard floral ornaments; and the iconography shows much agreement in choice and treatment of subject matter, with a high percentage of representations drawn from the Homeric poems. These facts suggest that we have to do here with the products of a single workshop that turned out vases, primarily the amphora of type B and the neck-amphora, fashioned according to fairly rigorous standards. A detailed study of the vase-shapes decorated by the Swing Painter and his companions, which is planned for a future article, may contribute much to our understanding of the relationships among these painters (and that between the potters for whom they worked), and of their role in the development of mid-sixth-century Attic pottery. STYLE

The amphora in San Simeon (Plates 1-3) takes its place easily among the many works of the Swing Painter. Several of his vases, most of them panel-amphorae, offer close parallels to ours in composition, drawing,

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figure groups and individual figures, and details such as drapery folds and garment patterns. Among them three pieces, all amphorae of type B, stand out: London B 185 (Plate 4), Vatican G. 37, and an amphora once in the Basel art market (Plate 5:1-2). 18 The amphora in the British Museum is decorated on side B (Plate 4:2) with two hoplites who, although they are clothed in chitoniskoi, a corselet (at left), and a nebris (at right), resemble our figure of Neoptolemos in anatomy, pose, and armor, in particular the round shields viewed from the inside. A nude warrior comparable to Neoptolemos appears in the battle scene on an amphora in Athens by the Swing Painter." The subject of the representation on the London amphora may be warriors setting out, as Beazley has suggested, or hoplitodromoi practicing before their trainers. The horses in the scene of a warrior departing with a chariot on side A (Plate 4:1) match those on the San Simeon amphora in conformation, the varied treatment of the manes and tails, and the form of the bits. Both amphorae display drapery enlivened with alternately red and black folds, white rosettes, and decorative hems; a lotus-palmette chain of the same type; and simple compositions comprised of either several overlapping figures or a few figures that scarcely touch one another. The same compositional schemes appear on the Swing Painter's amphora in the Vatican. On side B is an enigmatic scene of a god seated on a folding stool between two winged goddesses. They may be Zeus and the Eileithyiai awaiting the birth of Athena on the analogy of a similar representation, identified as Zeus before the birth of Athena, on an amphora in Budapest by the Swing Painter.20 The god, with his short hair and beard, patterned drapery, and staff, is a counterpart of King Priam on the amphora in San Simeon (Plate 3:2, 4). On side A of the Vatican amphora, the group composed of a man holding a horse, a woman, and a youth is similar to that of Kastor, Athena, and Helen on our amphora (Plate 2); while the young man at left resembles Kastor in pose and anatomy. The horses on both vases are comparable in almost every detail. Note in particular the elegant heads with eyes whose inner corners end in long hooked lines, the arched necks, slightly swayed backs, and collected stance. Other horses that may be counted as "brothers" to those on the San Simeon amphora appear drawing a chariot in the battle scene on an amphora in Rochdale by the Swing Painter.21 Here the far pole-horse is white, with a black mane and tail, in order to contrast to the other three dark animals. Exekias employed the same device for one team of horses on a neck-amphora in New York;22 and the Swing Painter may have borrowed it from him.

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The third amphora by our artist that is particularly close in style and iconography to the vase in San Simeon was once in the Basel art market (Plate 5:1-2). 23 Its present whereabouts is unknown to me. Of special interest is the representation of two warriors, a horseman, and a man on side A (Plate 5:1). The warriors, who are nude save for a helmet and greaves and armed with spears and round shields, are closely comparable to Neoptolemos on the amphora in San Simeon (Plate 1:2). The bearded, draped man with a staff, who stands at left, resembles King Priam (Plate 3:2, 4). And the youth on horseback, dressed in a chitoniskos and Thracian mantle, recalls the young horseman on side A of our vase (Plate 1:1). Beazley has described the scene on the Basel amphora as "horseman and warriors setting out," but might it not depict Achilles and Troilos? Also similar to the San Simeon rider are the youth in a white chitoniskos on horseback on an amphora in the Ciba collection, a similar figure on an amphora in the Fromboluti collection, and the bearded horseman leading a spare mount on the amphora Orvieto 334. 24 To round out our stylistic discussion, we may consider a few works of the Swing Painter which offer comparanda for certain individual aspects of the San Simeon amphora. A panel-amphora in the Noble collection is decorated on one side with an arming scene in which a youth turns away from the central group. 25 This apparently uninterested figure recalls Polydeukes, who turns to walk out of the equestrian scene on our vase (Plate 1:1). Other examples of this figure type by the Swing Painter appear on an amphora in Ghent and a hydria fragment in Oxford. 26 Both our artist and his master the Princeton Painter employed the type in a naive and often unsuccessful attempt to counteract movement in the opposite direction. A more effective variant is represented by Menelaos on the San Simeon amphora (Plate 3:1), who moves out of the picture panel while looking back, thus redirecting the viewer's attention to the central figures in the scene. Our figure of Menelaos wears a chlamys looped in an unnatural fashion over the buttocks and falling in folds from one shoulder. An identically arranged mantle appears on the striding youth in the scene of a warrior's departure on an amphora in Munich by the Swing Painter.27 A similar rendering of the mantle occurs in the figure of a Giant, whom Athena is getting the better of, on an amphora in the Pomerance collection. 28 Menelaos' errant wife Helen, who draws her mantle up before her face in the gesture of a bride (Plate 3:1, 3), finds a parallel in the two women flanking a man in a pointed cap on an amphora in Trieste by the artist.29 Among the works of the Swing Painter, only the amphora in San

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Simeon bears a representation of the death of Priam; however, several display seated male figures which are analogous to our figure of the king (Plate 3:2, 4). Besides the seated Zeus on Vatican G. 37,30 the two closest examples of this type occur on a fragment of a panel-amphora in Florence and an amphora of type B in the Institute d'Art et d'Archéologie, Paris.31 In both instances, a warrior who closely resembles our figure of Neoptolemos stands behind the seated man. These scenes are probably to be interpreted as a warrior's departure. Athena appears several times in the work of the Swing Painter. On the amphora in San Simeon (Plates 1:1, 2:1, 3), she adopts the role of patroness of heroes rather than her more usual one of warrior goddess. An amphora of type B in Naples shows Athena in the same guise and attitude as on our vase; here, however, her protege is Herakles, who wrestles the Nemean Lion.32 For other comparable representations of Athena, we may turn to a fragment from an unrecognizable shape in the University of Chicago, and a fragment of a neck-amphora from the Athenian Agora (Plate 5:3).33 On the latter piece, which Beazley has compared to the Swing Painter, the goddess wears a peplos with exactly the same decorative pattern as that on the amphora in San Simeon.

T H E RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE SWING PAINTER AND EXEKIAS

Echoes of the style of Exekias occur now and again in the Swing Painter's work, a fact which suggests that our artist was under the influence of the master and may have been employed in his workshop for a time. Beazley was certainly aware of this relationship, for he stated in ABV that the neck-amphora Compiègne 981 "might be by him [the Swing Painter] in a sober spell, influenced by Exekias."34 He did not, however, pursue the matter further. The influence of Exekias on the Swing Painter is evident in the representation on side A of the San Simeon amphora (Plates 1:1, 2), which is perhaps a product of the period when the artist may have worked with Exekias. The horses, for example, have much in common with those on a neck-amphora in New York by Exekias, especially in their conformation and bearing.35 The eyes, too, are similar to those of Exekias' horses, though not so much as the eyes of the animals on some late works of the Swing Painter, such as the race horse on a Panathenaic amphora in London.36 There is a certain similarity between the figure of Kastor with his horses (Plate 2:1) and the warrior and horse on side B of an early neckamphora in Boston by Exekias.37 In theme, as well as in composition,

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the entire representation on side A of our piece resembles so closely the picture of the Dioskouroi on Exekias' amphora in the Vatican, that it is tempting to suggest that the latter served as a model for the Swing Painter's scene.38 Several more instances in which our artist seems to have borrowed motifs from Exekias come readily to mind. The most obvious is his choice of the theme of Achilles and Ajax playing a board game for the decoration of an amphora in Naples and one in the collection of Arthur W. Silver.39 These representations were surely inspired by the pioneer gaming scene on Exekias' Vatican amphora. In the rendering of details such as fabric patterns, harness parts, and floral ornaments, the Swing Painter often follows Exekian models. Athena's checkered dress on the San Simeon amphora (Plate 2:3) resembles that of the woman on side B of Exekias' Boston neck-amphora, while the bits worn by our horses (Plate 2:4) have the same form as those of the animals on the master's neck-amphora in New York. The chain of vertically aligned lotuses and palmettes on the New York amphora is one of Exekias' standard ornaments. Among the works of the Swing Painter, this floral frieze appears on an amphora of type B in Budapest. 40 The Swing Painter was perhaps influenced to some extent by Exekias in his choice of vase shapes, specifically the amphora of type A, some of the earliest examples of which come from the master's hand. The lists of the Swing Painter's works include at least three amphorae of this type. A study of the potting work of our artist, which is planned, should reveal further relationships between his vases and those of Exekias, to whom he often looked for inspiration in theme and style. ICONOGRAPHY THE DIOSKOUROI

The Swing Painter seems not to have had much concern for the clarity and intelligibility of his mythological and legendary scenes. He painted a great variety of such subjects, many of which are ambiguous in meaning. This is true of both representations on the amphora in San Simeon. In these pictures, as is usual with the artist, none of the figures is labeled. The representation on side A (Plates 1:1; 2) has proven the more difficult to interpret. As has been suggested, it may depict the Dioskouroi with Athena and Helen or Leda. Another identification would be Athenian heroes, or simply young men of the mid sixth century, shown with horses, a woman, and Athena, who was a patroness of heroes. The argument presented here will be in favor of the first interpretation, although with a word of caution: the conclusion is purely tentative.

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In terms of the composition, our picture at first suggests a harnessing scene, as, for example, the one divided between two sides of Exekias' neck-amphora in Boston, a vase with which the Swing Painter seems to have been familiar.41 Some elements of the representation, however, preclude identification as a chariot being prepared: all four horses have been led up at once, whereas in actual fact, the pole-horses would have been harnessed first;42 one of the animals is ridden by a youth; and no chariot is present. The breastplate on Kastor's horse, which is a piece of harness, must reflect carelessness on the part of the artist. It is thus probable that the Swing Painter has intended to represent a pair of young heroes or men with their attendants, only one of whom is shown, either preparing to depart or arriving home. That they are Athenian youths of the Swing Painter's own time, rather than figures from heroic legend, is suggested by the Thracian mantle, or zeira, worn by the horseman. This colorful garment first appears in Attic black-figure, though only on horsemen, around the middle of the sixth century.43 Four of the earliest examples occur on vases of the Swing Painter's circle: his amphora once in the Basel art market (Plate 5:1-2), the San Simeon amphora, an amphora in Bonn by the Princeton Painter, and a hydria close in style to this artist in the Fogg Museum.44 Usually the mantle is worn about the upper part of the body, as on the horseman of the Fogg hydria; but our youth has it wrapped around his neck like a scarf. The Thracian mantle notwithstanding, the presence of Athena argues for an interpretation of our youths and young woman as legendary rather than genre figures. The goddess then would be looking out for their interests, as she so often did for those of Herakles or Theseus. Athena is portrayed in an unusual manner in that, except for her helmet and spear, she has no armor; the aegis and shield with which she is normally equipped are missing. Athena also appears without these articles on an amphora in the Vatican of Group E. 45 On several other vases by the Swing Painter, the goddess also lacks one or more of her attributes.46 Given the theory that the young men on the San Simeon amphora are heroes of the past, the question arises of who they might be. The Dioskouroi are an obvious choice, since, as we have already noted, their depiction by Exekias on the Vatican amphora appears to have served as a model for the Swing Painter's representation.47 The resemblance of the latter to Exekias' picture is striking: the group around the pair of horses at right (Plate 2); the two young heroes, one an integral part of the action, the other removed from it; and the figure of Athena in her checkered peplos all seem to have been derived from the figures on the Vatican amphora. By analogy, therefore, we may identify the young

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man holding the horses as Kastor and the one who walks away as Polydeukes; but the woman, from her youthful appearance and the fact that she probably reappears on the opposite side of the vase, should be Helen rather than Leda. The Swing Painter's representation of the Dioskouroi seems to be a very diluted version of Exekias' painting. The figures are not labelled, as they are in the latter scene; their actions are ambiguous; and the original composition is only loosely followed. Apparently the narrative accuracy of his picture was of little importance to the Swing Painter. Beazley identified the scene on the Vatican amphora as Kastor and Polydeukes returning home. 48 Does this interpretation apply also to the representation on our vase? I think not, for the restlessness of the horses, the spear held ready by Helen, and the presence of Athena all convey the impression that the twins are preparing to depart. Among the works of the Swing Painter, there are at least two other vases that may carry representations of the Dioskouroi, a very rare subject in Attic black-figure. 49 They are an amphora of type B in the Vatican, discussed earlier, and a vase of the same shape in Tarquinia. 50 In the scene on side B of the Vatican amphora, we might recognize Kastor and Polydeukes respectively in the young man standing at the horse's head and in the nude youth at left, and Helen in the woman. A better case may be made for interpreting as the Dioskouroi with Helen or Leda the pair of frontal horsemen flanking a woman on the amphora in Tarquinia. This group bears a close resemblance to that of Leda and the Dioskouroi on an eye-cup, once in the Basel art market, by the Lysippides Painter. 51 THE RECOVERY OF H E L E N A N D THE DEATH OF PRIAM

There are, in my opinion, two possible interpretations of the scene on side B of the amphora in San Simeon (Plates 1:2; 3). It may be taken as a unified representation of an abduction, perhaps of Helen by Paris and Aineias, or as two separate scenes from the Ilioupersis, Menelaos' recovery of Helen and the murder of Priam by Neoptolemos. In all probability, the latter interpretation is the correct one. Against the former, there is the scarcity of abduction scenes in Attic black-figure. The abduction of Helen by Paris, for example, has been recognized on at least twenty red-figured vases52 but, and tentatively at that, on only four black-figured vases.53 In contrast, representations of both the recovery of Helen and the death of Priam are amply documented in Attic blackfigure from the second quarter of the sixth century on. Several examples

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of the themes appear on vases by the Swing Painter and his companions: the recovery of Helen on amphorae by the artist himself and in the manner of his teacher, the Princeton Painter;54 the death of Priam on the San Simeon amphora, on amphorae by the Princeton Painter, in his manner, and by the Bucci Painter. 55 The strongest argument for the recognition of these two themes in those on side B of our vase is, I believe, their juxtaposition in a single panel on an amphora of type B in Berlin, painted by Lydos ca. 550. 56 This representation or one like it, now lost to us, may have provided the inspiration for the picture on the Swing Painter's amphora. But while from the master Lydos we have two clear portrayals of Menelaos and Helen and Neoptolemos and Priam, both groups rendered according to the traditional black-figure iconography, the Swing Painter has given us only the bare bones of the scenes, stripped of the narrative detail, such as Menelaos' sword and, in the picture of the death of Priam, the body of Astyanax and the altar, which are essential to their clear understanding. Let us consider first the representation of the recovery of Helen (Plate 3:1, 3). 57 On the amphora by Lydos, Menelaos faces Helen, raising his sword in a threatening gesture and apparently (his left hand is hidden behind Helen) seizing her by the mantle. This depiction conforms to a standard type used to portray Menelaos and Helen in Attic black-figure, which has been interpreted by L. Ghali-Kahil as an illustration of Leskhes' account of the story in the Little Iliad.58 It is quite unlike the Swing Painter's version, in which Menelaos turns away from Helen, looking round at his errant wife but making no move against her. His weapon is a spear, rather than a sword, held at an angle but in what manner is unclear, for the artist's original drawing has been rendered unintelligible through modern restoration. This representation follows an iconographical type, destined to become widely prevalent in late black-figure, in which Menelaos either leads Helen away without menacing her directly or walks before her, while she follows him submissively. Ghali-Kahil considers this scheme to be a derivation from Arktinos' version of the return of Helen in the Ilioupersis .S9 Among the Swing Painter's works, there are two other vases with examples of this theme, an amphora of type B in Toledo and a neckamphora in Tarquinia. 60 On the latter piece, the portrayal of Menelaos and Helen follows closely that on Lydos' amphora: the Spartan king faces his wife and grasps her himation, an action repeated in mirror image by a second warrior standing behind the woman. It would appear from the position of their hands that both men held swords; but, as

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often in the work of the Swing Painter, the weapons have been omitted. The representation on the amphora in Toledo is much closer to ours. Menelaos and Helen, their directions reversed, appear essentially as they do on the San Simeon amphora, except that Menelaos reaches back to grasp his wife by her mantle. He is armed with a sheathed sword and accompanied by another warrior, as on the neck-amphora in Tarquinia. In his three extant representations of the recovery of Helen, the Swing Painter has illustrated two different aspects of the legend: the couple's reunion at Troy, in the scene on the Tarquinia neck-amphora; and their departure for the Achaean ships, in the pictures on the amphorae in Toledo and San Simeon. Our artist apparently was seeking variety in his pictorial expression of the theme. The portrayal of Menelaos and Helen on the San Simeon amphora is noteworthy for being paired with the motif of Neoptolemos and Priam in a composition that evokes the Sack of Troy through two of its most famous incidents. Our amphora, in fact, is one of three Attic blackfigured vases on which more than one event of the Ilioupersis has been represented in a single picture. The other two works, both by Lydos, are the Berlin amphora, from which the Swing Painter may have derived his inspiration, and a fragmentary amphora in the Louvre, decorated with the death of Priam, and with Ajax and Kassandra.61 From the hand of the Swing Painter, there has survived only one representation of the death of King Priam of Troy, that on the amphora in San Simeon (Plates 1:2; 3:2, 4). Like its companion scene, it is composed solely of the two principal characters in the legend and differs in some respects from the traditional black-figure representations, as, for example, Lydos' version on the amphora in Berlin. On the latter vase, Neoptolemos, fully armed and brandishing the body of Astyanax, Hektor's son, advances towards King Priam, who is seated on an altar. Behind the king appear two female suppliants. When compared to Lydos' representation, the one by the Swing Painter suffers from a lack of force and clarity. Neoptolemos, whose only armor is a spear pointed upward, bears down upon Priam, who sits calmly on a folding stool. The altar is missing, as well as the body of Hektor's son and the pair of Trojan women. Both the altar of Zeus Herkeios and the body of Astyanax figure, although separately, in the literary sources for the Sack of Troy, the altar in the account of Priam's death in the Ilioupersis of Arktinos, the body of Astyanax in Leskhes' Little Iliad, according to which Neoptolemos seized the boy by the foot and threw him from the battlements of Troy.62 As M. I. Wiencke has shown, the Attic black- and red-figure depictions

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of the death of Priam in which Neoptolemos employs the body of Astyanax as a weapon represent a fusion of these two traditions. 63 Although some black-figure portrayals of Neoptolemos and Priam omit the dead Astyanax, 64 all of them, with the exception of the Swing Painter's version, include the altar of Zeus. Our artist, with no pretension to literary accuracy, seems to have combined two of his stock figure types, the striding warrior and the seated male figure, in a scene, devoid of attributes, which is meant to evoke the death of Priam. This cavalier attitude towards narrative detail may represent a deliberate attempt to vary the traditional motif or, more probably, just carelessness on the artist's part. The folding stool that replaces the altar in the Swing Painter's picture (Plate 3:2) appears in one other representation that (with some reservation) has been identified as the death of Priam: the picture on an early-fifth-century lekythos, formerly in the Castellani collection, by the Haimon Painter. 65 Yet even in this late and rather curious depiction of Priam's demise, the altar of Zeus has been preserved as a support for the folding stool. The Swing Painter's representation thus remains unique in that the altar, an essential element of the iconography, is absent. Although our painter did not use the traditional iconography to illustrate the death of Priam, he does appear to have adapted it to the representation of Herakles and Busiris on an amphora of type B in Cincinnati. 66 The Pharaoh lies slumped over a brick altar enlivened by brightly colored rosettes, while Herakles grasps one of his victim's priests by the ankle and prepares to use him as a club against another, whom he has seized by the throat. This particular treatment of the myth is, as far as I know, unique to the Swing Painter. Two similar representations do exist, one on a Caeretan hydria in Vienna, dated ca. 530, the other on a pelike in Athens, of ca. 470, by the Pan Painter. 67 On both of them, Herakles is using an Egyptian as a club, but Busiris is not present.

CHRONOLOGY

The Swing Painter was active within the period ca. 550-525 B.C. As Webster and Charlton have shown, his relatively long career embraces three phases: an early one of careful drawing and rather wooden figures, a middle period characterized by less deliberation and an interest in rendering three-dimensional drapery folds, and a late one showing an improved technique and more complex compositions. 68 The amphora in San Simeon should belong within the artist's middle phase, that is, to the years ca. 540-530. Our vase shares with the early works of the Swing Painter, such as

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the amphora in Toledo,69 relatively simple compositions, careful drawing, and a generous application of color. But it reveals an advance over these pieces in the freer poses of the figures, greater command of anatomy and movement, and experimentation with simple drapery folds, as in the hanging edge of Menelaos' chlamys (Plate 3:1). The amphora in San Simeon is probably contemporaneous with the amphorae Vatican G. 37, whose many stylistic affinities with the Hearst vase have already been considered, and Munich 1387.70 Particularly expressive of the close temporal relationship between the amphorae in San Simeon and in Munich is the drawing of the chlamydes of our figure of Menelaos and of the striding youth on side A of the latter vase. The San Simeon amphora should be only slightly earlier than London B 185 (Plate 4), with which it is in many ways comparable.71 Such shared details as the white palmette-tipped armbands and tassels of the shields point to the closeness in date of the two vases. Yet the amphora in London shows an advance over ours in the more slender and refined forms of the horses and in the series of folds in the chiton of one warrior on side B, which, although they are more simply drawn, resemble those of Achilles' chiton on the neck-amphora London B 210 by Exekias, dated ca. 530.72 The amphora in the Basel art market (Plate 5:1-2) should also be later in date than the San Simeon vase because of its looser composition and more relaxed style of drawing.73 A final confirmation of the date proposed for the amphora in San Simeon is offered by its thematic relationship to Exekias' Vatican amphora.74 As we have seen, the representation of youths with horses on the Swing Painter's vase appears to have been derived from the picture of the Dioskouroi on the amphora in the Vatican. This work, Exekias' masterpiece and an example of his developed style, belongs to the decade ca. 540-530. 75 CONCLUSION

The amphora San Simeon 5476 (Plates 1-3) is one of the most important and interesting works of the Swing Painter, in both the drawing, which is well above average for this artist, and the nature and handling of the subject matter. If the interpretation of the motifs presented here is correct, they constitute a unified theme dealing with the events leading up to the Trojan War and with its aftermath. Helen, the unwitting instigator of the conflict, appears on both sides of the vase, once at Sparta with her twin brothers the Dioskouroi, again at Troy on the night of its fall, when she is reunited with her husband Menelaos. The iconographical treatments of the scenes of the Dioskouroi and the death of Priam

The Swing Painter's Amphora in San Simeon

35

are unique in Attic vase painting, a fact which testifies to the originality, as well as to the idiosyncratic character, of the artist. Nevertheless, the influence of two of the greatest masters of Attic black-figure, Lydos and Exekias, is evident in the choice of motifs, the compositions, and, with respect to Exekias, the style of drawing. Thus the San Simeon amphora represents a summary of many of the best and most endearing qualities of the Swing Painter; even his sense of humor is manifest, if subconsciously on the artist's part, in the portrayal of King Priam, who sits incongruously on a folding stool. Neglected by scholars for over fifty years, since its publication in 1927,76 this fine work of the Swing Painter may be seen and appreciated today in the library of the Hearst Castle at San Simeon. University of California, Berkeley NOTES In the preparation of this paper, I am indebted to Professor Darrell A. Amyx for his advice, direction, and untiring patience; to Mrs. Joan Haldenstein for her enlightening observations on the style and chronology of the amphora in San Simeon; and to Ms. Ann Miller, Supervising Housekeeper and Custodian of the Hearst State Historical Monument, whose cooperation and assistance have made possible our research at the Hearst Castle. The abbreviations are those prescribed by the American Journal of Archaeology 80 (1976) 3-8. In addition the following are used: ABV: J. D. Beazley, Attic Black-figure Vase-painters (Oxford 1956). Arias and Hirmer: P. E. Arias, Max Hirmer, and B. B. Shefton, A History of Greek Vase Painting (London 1963). Boardman: John Boardman, Athenian Black Figure Vases: a handbook (London 1974). Ghali-Kahil: Lilly B. Ghali-Kahil, Les enlèvements et le retour d'Hélène dans les textes et les documents figurés (École française dAthènes, Travaux et mémoires, fase. 10) (Paris 1955). Paralipomena: J. D. Beazley, Paralipomena: Additions to Attic Black-figure Vase-painters and to Attic Red-figure Vase-painters (Oxford 1971). VL1: Frank Brommer, Vasenlisten zur griechischen Heldensage3 (Marburg/Lahn 1973). 1. On the Swing Painter, see especially: J. D. Beazley, "Groups of Mid-sixth-century Blackfigure," BSA 32 (1931-32) 12-16; J. D. Beazley and Filippo Magi, La raccolta Benedetto Guglielmi nel Museo Gregoriano Etrusco (Rome, Città del Vaticano, 1939) 41-42; T. B. L. Webster and J. M. T. Charlton, "Some Unpublished Greek Vases," Memoirs and Proceedings of the Manchester Literary and Philosophical Society 83 (1938-39) 191-201; ABV 304-310 and 693; R. Blatter, "Neue Werke des Schaukel-Malers, "AA 1969, 69-76; Paralipomena 132-135 and 519; Boardman 63, 168, 188, and 206. 2. Boston 98.918: ABV306, no. 41; Paralipomena 132, no. 41; A 4 1969, 71, fig. 2; CVA Boston 1, pi. 4; Boardman fig. 142. Louvre F 60: ASV308, no. 74; Paralipomena 133, no. 74; CVA Louvre 4, III He, pi. 31, 4 and 7-9. 3. Christchurch (N.Z.), Univ. of Canterbury 41/57: Paralipomena 134, no. 31 bis; A.D. Trendall, Greek Vases in the Logie Collection (Christchurch, N.Z. 1971) 59-60, no. 27, and pis. 20-21 and Frontispiece. 4. Maplewood, Noble: Paralipomena 134, no. 70 bis. 5. BSA 32 (1931-32) 12.

36

Evelyn Elizabeth Bell

6. ABV 305, no. 15; Memoirs and Proceedings of the Manchester Literary and Philosophical Society 83 (1938-39) pi. 2. 7. Richmond, Virginia, The Museum of Art 56.27.3:'Paralipomena 133, no. 4 bis; Auction Sale XVI, 30 June 1956, Monnaies et Médailles S.A. Basle, pl. 23, no. 96. 8. Cincinnati 1959.1: Paralipomena 134, no. 23 ter; The Cincinnati Art Museum Bulletin 8:1 (February 1966) 2-7; Boardman fig. 143. 9. Hearst Estate no. 5476 (San Simeon Warehouse no. 9968). 10. Catalogue Sotheby 12 July 1927, pi. 7, no. 148: D. von Bothmer apud P. Amandry, review of Lilly B. Ghali-Kahil, Les enlèvements et le retour d'Hélène, AJA 62 (1958) 339. 11. Dimensions: height 50.3-50.6 cm.; diameter 32.6 cm.; diameter of mouth 20.2 cm.; diameter of neck 15.2 cm.; diameter of foot 17.5 cm. 12. Naples Sant. 116: CVA Naples 1, III He, 3 and pl. 1, 3-4. 13. Cf. the kouros Munich, Glyptothek no. 168, from Tenea (Gisela M.A. Richter, Kouroi: Archaic Greek Youths' [London and New York 1970) 83-84, no. 70, and figs. 239-244). 14. Red: calyces of lotuses. A, hair above forehead of youth at left; hair and parts of mantle of youth on horseback; iris, fillet, and borders of peplos of Athena; tails and stripes on flanks of near horses; mane and breastplate of near horse at right; iris, fillet, and stripes in peplos of woman. B, stripes in chlamys, fillet on helmet, and greaves of Menelaos; iris, hair above forehead, peplos, and part of himation of Helen; fillet on helmet, greaves, and rim of shield of Neoptolemos; hair above forehead, beard, and alternate folds of himation of Priam. White: A, chiton and parts of mantle of youth on horseback; flesh of female figures; edge of Athena's helmet crest. B, edge of Neoptolemos' helmet crest and armband of his shield; rosettes in draperies; Helen's flesh; disks of folding stool. 15. Toledo 23.3123: CVA Toledo 1, 1-2 and pi. 3. 16. The lists in ABV and Paralipomena include 42 neck-amphorae; but the piece in Mende (ABV 307, no. 63) should be removed. See infra n. 34. 17. Cincinnati 1959.1: supra n. 8. Boston 89.257: ABV 304, no. 2; CVA Boston 1, pi. 3. 18. London B 185: ABV 304, no. 4; CVA London 3, III He, pi. 33, 4. Vatican G. 37: ABV305, no. 13; Beazley and Magi (supra n. 1) pi. 13. Basel art market: Paralipomena 134, no. 28 bis. 19. Athens 15111: ABV 306, no. 43; ArchEph 1924, 104-105. With Neoptolemos cf. also the warriors on the amphorae Munich 1386 (ABV 306, no. 39; CVA Munich 1, pis. 18, 4, and 25, 3) and Tarquinia RC 7205 (ABV306, no. 44; Paralipomena 132, no. 44; CVA Tarquinia 2, III H, pi. 23, 2-3). 20. Budapest 51.21: Paralipomena 134, no. 31 ter; RGZM 8 (1961) pi. 35, 1. Cf. also the representation possibly of Zeus before the birth of Athena on the amphora Princeton 168, by the Princeton Painter (ABV299, no. 19; Boardman fig. 138). On this theme, see F. Brommer, "Die Geburt der Athena, " RGZM 8 (1961) 66-95. 21. Supra n. 6. 22. New York 17.230.14: ABV 144, no. 3, and 686; Paralipomena 59, below, no. 3; AJA 72 (1968) pl. 121, fig. 9; BMMA 31:1 (1972) no. 9; CVA New York 4, pis. 16-19. 23. Supra n. 18. 24. Basel, Ciba (once Basel market): ABV 693, no. 22 bis; Paralipomena 132, no. 22 bis; Auction Sale XVI, 30 June 1956, Monnaies et Médailles S.A. Basle, pl. 22, no. 95. New York, Fromboluti (once New York, Kevorkian): ABV30b, no. 47; Paralipomena 133, no. 47; Parke-Bernet sale 2412, 25-26 February 1966, 58, no. 230. Orvieto 334: ABV 304, no. 5. 25. Maplewood, Noble: Paralipomena 133, no. 6 bis; Catalogue Sotheby 1 July 1957, pl. at p. 31. 26. Ghent 11: ABV305, no. 16; AntCl 22:2 (1953) pis. 1, 1, and 2. Oxford 1930.646: ABV309, no. 98; AA 1969, 75, fig. 6; CVA Oxford 3, pl. 36, 12. 27. Munich 1387: ABV 304, no. 7; CVA Munich 1, pis. 24, 1, and 25, 4. 28. Great Neck, Pomerance (once London market): ABV693, no. 34 bis; Paralipomena 132, no. 34 bis; The Pomerance Collection of Ancient Art (Brooklyn 1966) 94-95, no. 112. 29. Trieste S 406: Paralipomena 134, no. 21®. 30. Supra n. 18. 31. Florence (sine inv.J: ABV 307, no. 53; for "warrior, seated man, and three women" read

Plate 1

Bell

Bell

Plate 2

1-4. San Simeon, Hearst State Historical Monument, no. 5476. Attic black-figured amphora. Photographs courtesy of Professor D.A. Amyx.

Plate 3

Bell

1-4. San Simeon, Hearst State Historical Monument, no. 5476. Attic black-figured amphora. Photographs courtesy of Professor D.A. Amyx.

Bell

Plate 4

Plate 5

Bell

1-2. Once Basel Market. Attic black-figured amphora. Photographs courtesy of Dr. Herbert A. Cahn.

3. Athens, Agora Museum, no. P 13523. Attic black-figured neckamphora, fragment. Photograph courtesy of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens.

The Swing Painter's Amphora in San Simeon

37

"two warriors, seated man, and two women." Paris, Inst. d'Art et d'Archéologie: Paralipomena 134, no. 27 bis. 32. Naples 2503: ABV305, no. 26; CVA Naples 1, III He, pi. 3, 1-2. 33. Chicago, Univ.: ABV 310, no. 102; AJA 47 (1943) 390, fig. 3. I am grateful to Mrs. Joan Haldenstein for bringing this similarity to my attention. Athens, Agora P 13523: ABV693, middle. 34. ABV 310, below. Further evidence for the stylistic associations between the Swing Painter and Exekias is provided by a neck-amphora in Mende. Attributed by Beazley to the Swing Painter (ABV 307, no. 63), it has recently been shown by Boardman, apud D. von Bothmer ( C V A Oxford 3, 3), to be a work of the same hand as Oxford 1960.1291, a neck-amphora characterized by Beazley as "not far from Group E and Exekias" (Paralipomena 59). To the literature on the Oxford amphora, add CVA Oxford 3, pis. 6, 1-2; and 7. 35. Supra n. 22. 36. London B 144: ABV 307, no. 59; T. B. L. Webster, Potter and Patron in Classical Athens (London 1972) pi. 6; Boardman fig. 145. 37. Boston 89.273: ABV 144, no. 4; Paralipomena 59, no. 4; AJA 72 (1968) pi. 120, fig. 4; CVA Boston 1, pis. 29-32. 38. Vatican 344: ABV 145, no. 13, and 686; Paralipomena 60, no. 13; AJA 72 (1968) pi. 119, fig. 1; Jean Charbonneaux, Roland Martin, and François Villard, Archaic Greek Art (New York 1971) figs. 110-111; Boardman fig. 100 and Frontispiece. 39. Naples 2460: ABV 307, no. 56; CVA Naples 1, III He, pis. 7, 3-4; and 8, 4. Los Angeles, Silver: Paralipomena 134, no. 22 ter; Masterpieces of Greek Vase Painting (André Emmerich Gallery, Inc., New York 1964) no. 14. 40. Supra n. 20. 41. Supra n. 37. 42. This sequence has been clearly shown by Exekias on his neck-amphora in Boston (supra n. 37). For a brief description of the method of harnessing a four-horse chariot, see J. K. Anderson, Ancient Greek Horsemanship (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1961) 43. 43. On the zeira, its origin in Thrace, and its first appearance in Athens, as documented in vasepaintings, see H. A. Cahn, "Dokimasia, "RA 1973, 13-15 and 13 n. 2. 44. Once Basel market: supra n. 18. Bonn 365: ABV 299, no. 21; AA 1935, 425, fig. 11. Harvard 1969.14: J. G. Pedley, "A Black-Figure Hydria in the Fogg Museum," Studies Presented to George M. A. Hanfmann (Mainz 1971) 121-126 and pis. 32-33 (not attributed to the Swing Painter by Pedley, as reported by Cahn [supra n. 43] 13 n. 2). Earlier examples of the Thracian mantle appear on a hydria in a Swiss private collection (Auktion 34. Kunstwerke der Antike. 6. Mai 1967. Münzen und Medaillen AG Basel, pl. 31, no. 121) and a neck-amphora in Oxford belonging to Group E (ABV 137, no. 59; Paralipomena 55, no. 59; CVA Oxford 3, pis. 3-4). 45. Vatican 348: ABV 134, no. 16; Carlo Albizzati, Vasi antichi dipinti del Vaticano (Rome 1925-39) pl. 44. 46. On the amphora Naples 2503, for example, Athena has no aegis (supra n. 32); while on the amphora Munich 1395, she wears neither aegis nor helmet (ABV305, no. 24; CVA Munich 1, pis. 28, 1; and 29, 3). 47. Supra n. 38. 48. J. D. Beazley, The Development of Attic Black-figure (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1951, 1964) 66. On the controversy surrounding the interpretation of this scene, see also M. B. Moore, "Horses by Exekias," AJA 72 (1968) 365 n. 46. 49. For representations of the Dioskouroi, see VX3 510-511 and 512. Possible additions to this list of Attic black-figured vases with representations of the Dioskouroi are: Brescia (sine inv.) by Psiax (ABV 292, no. 1; Paralipomena Ml, below, no. 1; Arias and Hirmer pis. 66-68 and XIX-XX); Tarquinia RC 8262, assigned by Beazley to the Class of Louvre F 215 bis (Paralipomena 138, no. 5; CVA Tarquinia 2, III H, pl. 40, 1-2); San Simeon 5476; and the two other works of the Swing Painter considered here. 50. Vatican G. 37: supra n. 18. Tarquinia RC 2421: ABV 306, no. 45; Paralipomena 132, no. 45; CVA Tarquinia 2, III H, pl. 22, 1 and 4.

38

Evelyn Elizabeth Bell

51. Paralipomena 114, no. 21 bis (for "Leto" read "Leda"); Basel. Münzen und Medaillen AG: Sonderliste "G", Attische Schwarzfigurige Vasen (1964) no. 68; VL' 511, A, no. 10. 52. Ghali-Kahil 49-70; VL' 458. 53. Ghali-Kahil 50-51, nos. 6-9. 54. Representations of the recovery of Helen appear on three vases by the Swing Painter: Toledo 23.3123 and Tarquinia (sine inv.) (infra n. 60) and San Simeon 5476; and on two vases in the manner of the Princeton Painter: Oxford 1965.141 (ABV 299, no. 1 ; Paralipomena 130, no. 1; CVA Oxford 3, pis. 31, 2; and 32, 3-4) and Munich, Bareiss 6 (Paralipomena 130, no. 5 bis). 55. For representations of the death of Priam in the circle of the Princeton Painter, see: Bonn 45 (ABV 299, no. 16; AJA 58 [1954] pi. 57, fig. 8: Princeton Painter) and Rome, Conservatori 98 (infra n. 64: manner of the Princeton Painter). There is one example of this theme by the Bucci Painter, on Louvre F 222 (ABV 316, no. 4; Paralipomena 137, no. 7 bis; AJA 58 [1954] pi. 57, fig. 9). 56. Berlin 1685: ABV 109, no. 24; Charbonneaux et al. (supra n. 38) fig. 73; Boardman fig. 67. 57. For the recovery of Helen in Greek vase painting, see: Ghali-Kahil passim; P. Amandry (supra n. 10) 335-339; P. A. Clement, "The Recovery of Helen," Hesperia 27 (1958) 47-73; D. von Bothmer, "New Vases by the Amasis Painter," AntK 3 (1960) 75-76; L. D. Caskey and J. D. Beazley, Attic Vase Paintings in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, vol. 3 (Oxford 1963) 32-39; E. Simon, "Die Wiedergewinnung der Helena, " AntK 7 (1964) 91-95; VL' 404-412. 58. Ghali-Kahil 77 and 97-98. 59. Ghali-Kahil 105. 60. Toledo 23.3123: CVA Toledo 1, pi. 3; Ghali-Kahil 105, note 3; VL1 411, no. 4. Tarquinia (sine inv.): ABV 308, no. 64; NSc 1930, pi. 7, 1-2; Ghali-Kahil 74, no. 35; VL' 404, no. 3. 61. Berlin 1685: supra n. 56; VL' 333, A, no. 2. Louvre F 29: ABV 109, no. 21, and 685; Paralipomena 44, no. 21; CVA Louvre 11, III He, pi. 125; VL3 333, A, no. 1. 62. Arktinos, Ilioupersis Par. 1 (pp. 520f ed. H. G. Evelyn-White); Leskhes, Little Iliad Par. 14 (pp. 518f ed. H. G. Evelyn-White). For the death of Priam in Greek vase painting, see especially C. Dugas, "Tradition littéraire et tradition graphique dans l'antiquité grecque, " AntCl 6 (1937) 14-26; M. I. Wiencke, "An Epic Theme in Greek Art," AJA 58 (1954) 285-306; VV 466-467. 63. Wiencke (supra n. 62) 293 and note 32. 64. For example that on Rome, Conservatori 98, in the manner of the Princeton Painter (ABV 300, no. 5, and 692; ParalipomenaMO, below, no. 5; CVA Musei Capitolini di Roma 1, III H, pis. 19, 3; and 20, 1; VL' 466, no. 7). 65. C. H. E. Haspels, Attic Black-figured Lekythoi (Paris 1936) 244, no. 76 bis; RömMitt 3 (1888) fig. on p. 105; VL3 467, above. 66. Supra n. 8. 67. Vienna 3576: V. Callipolitis, "Les hydres de Caere, " AntCl 24 (1955) 388, no. 27, and pi. 4; Charbonneaux et al. (supra n. 38) fig. 107; VL' 35, C, no. 1. AthensN.M. 9683: J.D. Beazley, Attic Red-figure Vase-painters, 2nd ed. (Oxford 1963) 554, no. 82; Paralipomena 386, no. 82; John Boardman, Athenian Red Figure Vases, The Archaic Period: a Handbook (London 1975) fig. 336; VL' 34, no. 8. 68. Webster and Charlton (supra n. 1) 198-201. 69. Supra n. 60. 70. Vatican G. 37: supra n. 18. Munich 1387: supra n. 27. 71. Supra n. 18. 72. ABV 144, no. 7, and 686; Paralipomena 60, no. 7; Boardman fig. 98. The late date accepted here is that given by Arias and Hirmer 303. According to Beazley (supra n. 48) 64-65 and 66, the London neck-amphora is one of Exekias' earlier works. 73. Supra n. 18. 74. Supra n. 38. 75. Moore (supra n. 48) 365-366 and 367, has shown that the amphora in the Vatican belongs relatively late in the career of Exekias. For the absolute chronology, see Arias and Hirmer 303. 76. Supra n. 10.

STANLEY M. BURSTEIN

Bithys, Son of Cleon from Lysimachia: A Reconsideration of the Date and Significance of IG II2, 808

IG II2, 808 ( = EM 7391) consists of two joined pieces of bluish marble (37 cm. in width and 35 cm. in height) from a large tapering stele. A finished left edge is preserved, but otherwise the fragments are broken at the top, bottom and right side. The inscription is stoichedon without irregularities beyond a restricted use of uninscribed spaces at the ends of lines. The lettering is small, squarish in form, and particularly characterized by the consistent cutting of epsilon without a middle stroke. When complete the stele contained a decree awarding Athenian citizenship to a certain Bithys, son of Cleon, from Lysimachia. The loss of the decree's prescript means that the dating of IG II2, 808 must be based entirely on internal evidence. U. Koehler1 identified Bithys, son of Cleon, with the similarly named courtier of Lysimachus, and accordingly assigned the inscription to the early third century B.C. If correct, this dating would have important implications for the histories of Athens and Lysimachus since it would provide evidence of otherwise unattested military cooperation between them. In 1903, however, A. Wilhelm challenged this dating, suggesting instead that the inscription be dated to the 230s.2 His reasons were threefold. First, Bithys, son of Cleon, was a general while the other Bithys was known only as a courtier without military experience. Second, the lettering of IG II2, 808, contrary to earlier belief, allowed a much later date since its closest analogue was IG II2, 1283, an inscription of the year 261. Third and most significant, a Macedonian general named Bithys was attested as active near Athens in 239, and his victory over the Achaeans at Phylacia

39

40

Stanley M. Burstein

would have provided a most suitable occasion for the honors granted Bithys, son of Cleon, in IG II2, 808.3 More recently, M.J. Osborne has adduced a new argument in support of Wilhelm's dating based on his study of the procedures specified in third-century Athenian citizenship decrees.4 Specifically, Osborne noted that IG II2, 808 lacked a clause providing for a judicial scrutiny of the award of citizenship after its approval by the assembly. Since inclusion of such a clause, he argued, was normal in citizenship decrees passed before 262 and after 229 but not during the intervening period, Osborne concluded that Wilhelm's dating of the inscription to the 230s was correct. With few exceptions,5 albeit distinguished ones such as K.J. Beloch6 and B.D. Meritt,7 Wilhelm's dating has been generally accepted; and now that it has been strengthened by the results of Osborne's review of the whole corpus of Athenian citizenship decrees, it bids well to become even more securely entrenched in studies of thirdcentury Athenian history and epigraphy. Such confidence, however, is not justified since neither Wilhelm's nor Osborne's arguments are, in actuality, free of difficulty. Wilhelm's arguments are particularly weak. The lettering of IG II2, 808, in fact, poses no serious obstacle to a date before 250. Similarly, the designation of Bithys as a Ttapaaitoq of Lysimachus in our fragmentary and tendentious sources is no proof that he did not command an army at some point in his career.8 Likewise, Osborne's reliance to the exclusion of all other considerations on the criterion of the presence or absence of a scrutiny provision to date IG II2, 808 is open to serious question for two reasons. First, as he himself admits,9 accidental omission of one or another clause either at the time a decree was drafted or when it was inscribed is not unusual. Second, the alleged absence of the requirement for a judicial scrutiny of citizenship awards between 262 and 229 rests solely on its omission in a single inscription, IG II2, 707, the only such text datable to the period;10 and IG II2, 808 in its general style has far less in common with that decree than it does with a decree such as IG II2, 663," a citizenship decree of the year 286/5 also in honor of an agent of Lysimachus. For these reasons, therefore, a new study of the dating of IG II2, 808 is justified, which considers all of the internal evidence bearing on the problem and not just the presence or absence of a scrutiny clause. POSSIBILITY OF A N EARLIER D A T E

The first question to be answered is quite simply, is there a period earlier in the third century to which IG II2, 808 could be dated? The answer is

Bithys, Son of Cleon from Lysimachia

41

most certainly yes. Although the defectiveness of our sources deprives any date earlier than the 230s of the advantage of a clear reference to a Bithys operating near Athens, there is one period compatible with both the historical situation implied by IG II 2 , 808 and the internal evidence provided by the inscription—the second half of the 280s. At that time Athens and Lysimachus were allied as a result of the realignment of forces in the Balkans after the defeat and capture of Demetrius Poliorcetes in 285, a realignment in which Athens' former ally Pyrrhus joined forces with her present enemy Antigonus Gonatas in a war against Lysimachus.12 The alliance between Athens and Lysimachus seems already to have been in existence as early as the spring of 28513 and was still in force as late as the fall of 283.14 While it lasted, it rested on the firm basis of mutual need: on Lysimachus' need for allies in Greece to prevent Antigonus from supporting Pyrrhus, and on Athens' need for assistance to recover those positions in Attica still held by Gonatas—Eleusis, the frontier forts and Piraeus.15 Except for IG II 2 , 808 no source indicates actual military cooperation between Athens and Lysimachus, but such would not be surprising since the Thracian king did promise to support Athens in her attempt to recover the occupied positions and backed up that promise with subsidies of money and grain;16 and Demochares, a key figure in negotiating the alliance, was responsible for the most important Athenian military action of these years, the recovery of Eleusis.17 On historical grounds, therefore, a date in 285 or one of the immediately following years is possible.

INTERNAL EVIDENCE: LETTERING AND FORMULAS

Neither the stoichedon arrangement of IG II 2 , 808 nor the general character of its lettering is of significance in dating the inscription since both features are compatible with a date in the 280s or the 230s.18 Potentially more significant, however, is the restoration of xouq ¿jri xfji SIOIKII V-/CTEI in lines 27-28. As this reading, if correct, would guarantee a date between 286 and 262 for IG II 2 , 808, Osborne has challenged i t , " suggesting instead that xov ¿7ri xfji 8ioiKT|vv-/aei be restored at this point. Since both restorations require the assumption of uninscribed spaces at the end of line 27, a practice attested elsewhere in the inscription, either is a priori possible. In both cases the effect is the same, the preservation of syllabic division at the end of line 27. As the cutter of IG II 2 , 808 generally ignored syllabification in laying out the inscription, Osborne is probably correct in suggesting that it was of secondary importance in this particular case and that his primary purpose in leaving uninscribed spaces at the end of line 27 was aesthetic, that is,

42

Stanley M.

Burstein

he wished to avoid beginning line 28 with only one or two letters before the uninscribed space setting off the numeral ten in the pricing formula. Just this fact, however, points to the plural restoration with only one uninscribed space as more likely to be correct. Outside line 27 uninscribed spaces occur only at the ends of two lines, lines 16 and 22. In both cases the purpose was clearly to enable the cutter to end his line with a complete word. 20 In other words, the cutter's primary concern was to avoid uninscribed spaces at the ends of lines except where the possibility of ending a line with a complete word was involved. Given this priority, it is, I suggest, rather more likely that this cutter would take account of a relatively minor aesthetic point if it involved leaving only one space at the end of line 27 than if it involved leaving two. 21 The point is inconclusive, but such as it is, it points toward an early rather than a late date for IG II 2 , 808. The situation becomes clearer, however, when we turn from these aspects of the inscription to the evidence provided by the referral and pricing formulas used in it. In line 12 the proedroi are instructed to introduce the question of Bithys' citizenship eiq t t i v [jrpa>TT|v ¿ K K X t ) 0 i - / ] a v (hereafter ETPE). Although himself a supporter of a date in the 230s for IG II 2 , 808, Kirchner recognized in this phrase a potentially serious obstacle to such a dating because the evidence then available seemed to indicate that after 262 it had been replaced in Athenian inscriptions by the phrase eiq t f j v ¿Ttiouaav ¿KicXr]aiav (hereafter ETEE). 22 In fact the situation is not as clear as he believed. Two examples of ETEE are attested in the 290s,23 and B.D. Meritt pointed out in 1938 that ETPE should be restored in IG II 2 , 775, an inscription from the year 241.24 Relying on these facts Osborne minimized the importance of the phrase with the observation that "one must beware of building upon the basis of simple (and perhaps quite unimportant) verbal changes, and certainly one should not try to employ them as fixed points for dating." 2 5 Although salutary as a warning against excessive reliance on arbitrary dating criteria, Osborne's statement, in fact, begs a very important question, namely whether or not in any given period the secretaries who did much of the actual drafting of the decrees preferred to use one phrase over the other as one would expect in the case of such stereotyped formulas. 26 That such a preference did exist in the case of the referral formula in the third century is confirmed in Table l, 2 7 which summarizes the results of a survey of the inscriptions with preserved or restorable archon dates from the first three quarters of the century that contain the formula.

Bithys, Son of Cleon from Lysimachia

43

TABLE 1

Dates by Decade

ETPE

ETEE

TOTAL

299-290 289-280 279-270 269-260 259-250 249-240 239-230

2 6 2 1 1 1 l28

2 1 3 4 4 2 2

4 7 5 5 5 3 3

Totals

14

18

32

Table 1 reveals that in the 280s ETPE was the normal usage. Thereafter, there was a strong tendency for it to be replaced by ETEE, with only four datable examples of the former phrase being attested at widely scattered intervals during the next fifty years and none thereafter. These scattered examples of ETPE suffice to indicate that there was no formal ban on the use of the phrase and that it might possibly even be found as late as the 230s. At the same time, however, it is clear that these were exceptions to the general trend over the period toward the increasing use of ETEE, and that Kirchner was, therefore, correct in feeling that an inscription employing ETPE should be dated to the first half of the third century unless there were strong reasons for not doing so, reasons that are absent in the case of IG II2, 808. The last and most conclusive evidence pointing toward an early date, particularly one in the late 280s, however, is provided by the pricing formula in lines 27-28: [^epicrav toug ¿Tti tfjv 8VOIKT|-/] crei A 5pa%Hdg. B.D. Meritt called attention to its decisive importance in 1938 with the remark that "the fact that ten drachmai were specified as the expense for the stele differentiates this inscription at once from other honorary decrees of the period of Demetrius II." 2 ' Meritt did not expand on this statement, and Osborne30 has taken advantage of this lack of clarification to advance a number of considerations against it, noting, first, that the number of inscriptions from the period is too small for secure conclusions to be drawn; second, that stated prices alternate with the phrase TO yevojievov dvaA,co|xa (hereafter TGA) in the 280s in particular, and in the early part of the century in general, so that the possibility of a stated price in the 230s cannot be excluded; third, that prices paid for inscriptions tended to drop in the third century so that while ten drachmas might be a suitable price in the 230s, it was too low for the 280s when fifteen or twenty drachmas seems to have been the usual price; and fourth, that stated prices and inscribed texts cannot in any event be correlated because it was always possible for the honoree to

44

Stanley M. Burstein

supplement the money allocated by the city for the inscribing of the decree. None of these points is persuasive or even valid on an empirical level. I have, in fact, been able to locate forty-five inscriptions in addition to IG IP, 808 from the period between 290 and 220 in which the pricing formula is either preserved or can be confidently restored, quite enough examples for determining the pattern of usage for this particular formula.31 The actual situation is especially clear with regard to the supposed alternation of stated prices and the TGA formula in the early third century. Only nine inscriptions bear a stated price and of these only two, IG IP, 676 from 273/2 and SEG 14, No. 64 from 271/0 can be securely dated to a year after 281/0.32 Otherwise, with the exception of those from an undetermined period in the 260s when prices seem to have been set on a case-by-case basis,33 all datable inscriptions from the years after 281/0 employ without exception the TGA formula. By itself this fact renders highly dubious a dating of IG II2, 808 with its stated price to the 230s, some four decades after the latest dated example of such a price, but there is more. It is, in fact, possible to correlate stated prices with inscribed texts. In 1896 E. Drerup34 showed that in the fourth century and the first decade of the third century the stated prices reflected a simple decimal system of pricing based on a single criterion, the number of letters in the text to be inscribed: ten drachmas were allocated per five hundred letters. With the limited data at his disposal for the 280s, Drerup could account for the seeming anomalies of IG II2, 657 (2902 letters for twenty drachmas) and IG II2, 808 (1090 plus letters for ten drachmas), both seriously underpriced according to the system prevailing before 290 only by positing errors in the cutting of the numerals in each case.35 Table 2, which summarizes the currently available evidence for the 280s, makes it possible both to account for these anomalies and to answer Osborne's remaining objections.36

Reference IG II2, 663 IG II2, 653 Benjamin D. Meritt & John S. Trail, The Athenian Councilors (Princeton 1974) No. 71 IG II2, 657 SEG 25, No. 89 SEG 25, No. 90

286/5 285/4 283/2

TGA TGA 10 dr.

936

283/2 282/1 281/0

20 dr. 10 dr. 10 dr.

2902 1276 1012

Bithys, Son of Cleon from Lysimachia

45

The first and most striking fact that emerges from Table 2 is that the alternation of stated prices and the TGA formula is not random in inscriptions of the 280s. Before the year 283/2 there are no examples of a stated formula while between 283/2 and 281/0 there is no example of the TGA formula.37 Second, far from being common, twenty drachmas is attested as a stated price only once in the decade and fifteen drachmas not at all, while ten drachmas emerges as being clearly the normal price for an inscription of the size of IG II2, 808. Third, the chronologically limited period during which stated prices were the rule, the prices themselves and the size of the inscriptions all point not in the direction of a gradual trend toward lower prices in the third century but rather toward the introduction at a specific time in the second half of the 280s of a new and lower but still decimal scale for paying cutters.38 As before 290 the state apparently allocated ten drachmas per specified number of letters but the intervals were now considerably wider, most likely two thousand letters instead of the earlier five hundred. Finally, not only is such an interpretation consistent with the evidence of the inscriptions themselves, but a reform that would produce exactly this result is attested for the period, namely the imposition of strict economies on expenditures by the oi ¿Tti rrji 5ioucr|aei by Demochares after his return from exile in 286/5. 39 The pricing formula, therefore, aligns IG II2, 808 closely with the decrees of the late 280s, the period of closest relations between Athens and Lysimachus, and only with those third-century decrees. When this fact is added to the other pieces of evidence pointing toward a similar date, it becomes clear that the 230s date should be abandoned and IG II2, 808 should again be dated to the early third century, more precisely, to the second half of the 280s.

CONCLUSION 2

Dating IG II , 808 to the second half of the 280s throws welcome light on an obscure episode of early-third-century history, the war between Lysimachus, Pyrrhus and Antigonus Gonatas that broke out in 284. Hitherto it appeared that Lysimachus restricted his military activity to northern Greece, driving Pyrrhus from Thessaly and Macedonia and harassing him in Epirus proper.40 In southern Greece, on the other hand, his actions seemed more limited. An alliance was made with the Aetolians,41 now alienated from Pyrrhus, and trouble was created for Gonatas by extending the subsidies that had already cost him the important city of Elatea in Phocis in 28542 to Attica, Boeotia43 and possibly even Euboea.44 IG II2, 808, however, indicates that this reconstruction requires modification. Far from avoiding direct involvement in southern

46

Stanley M.

Burstein

Greece, the presence of an important member of his court in Greece on a military mission of some kind 45 implies that Lysimachus planned a more active role for himself in the fighting there than our other sources suggested. In particular it raises the possibility—as do the honors awarded Bithys—that the promises of support for Athenian attempts to expel Antigonid forces from Attica, which Philippides and Demochares obtained from Lysimachus, may have included military assistance as well as the subsidies of grain and money mentioned elsewhere. If so, then Lysimachus' failure to provide that promised support as relations with Athens worsened in the last years of the 280s may well account for Athens' inability to achieve her principal military goal, the recovery of Piraeus. 46 California State University Los Angeles NOTES I should like to thank Professors Christian Habicht of The Institute for Advanced Study, A.E. Raubitschek of Stanford University and Sarah B. Pomeroy of Hunter College for their comments on earlier drafts of this paper, and Dr. Dina Peppas-Delmousou, Director of the Athens Epigraphical Museum, for allowing me to study EM 7391. Research for this paper was made possible by a National Endowment for the Humanities fellowship. 1. CIA II, I, 144 note ad CIA II 320. Repeated in IG II 2 , p. 331, note ad IG II 2 , 808. 2. A. Wilhelm, "rev. Wilhelm Dittenberger, Sylloge inscriptionum Graecarum I , " GGA (1903) 788-789. 3. Plut. Aratus 34.1. Wilhelm (supra n. 2) 788 noted that the general might be a descendant of the courtier of Lysimachus. The Delian dedication to Sarapis by a Bithys from Lysimachia (IG II, 1242) is probably not connected with him since P. M. Fraser ("Two Studies on the Cult of Sarapis in the Hellenistic World," Opusc Ath 3 [1960] 23 n. 5) has pointed out that except for IG II, 1215 the Delian dedications to Sarapis appear to be second century or later in date. 4. M. J. Osborne, "The Last Athenian," Ancient Society 5 (1974) 97-104. 5. For a review of the previous literature see Osborne (supra n. 4) 98. 6. K. J. Beloch, Griechische Geschichte,2 4 vols, in 8 (Strassburg and Berlin 1912-1927) IV.1.135 n. 2. In support of his position Beloch pointed specifically to Bithys' being a Lysimachian and to the similarity in phraseology between IG II 2 , 808, 11.7-8 and IG II 2 , 657, 1.23. 7. B. D. Meritt, "Greek Inscriptions," Hesperia 8 (1938) 146 n. 1. 8. Sufficient proof of the weakness of this type of argument was provided by the publication of the inscription (Iscrizioni storiche ellenistiche II, ed. Luigi Moretti [Florence 1975] 72) which revealed that the Adeimantus of Lampsacus was actually Demetrius Poliorcetes' chief agent in Greece. 9. He provides a list of examples in M. J. Osborne, "Attic Decrees: A Note," BSA 67 (1972) 130 n. 3. 10. Osborne (supra n. 4) 96. 11. Cf. IG II 2 , 808, 11.17-24 with IG II 2 , 663, 11.21-33. For the date of IG II 2 , 663 see G. A. Stamires, "Greek Inscriptions," Hesperia 26 (1957) No. 2. In general, the laconic style and jussive construction of IG II 2 , 707 set it apart from other third-century citizenship decrees.

Bithys, Son of Cleon from Lysimachia

47

12. The treaty between Antigonus and Pyrrhus is alluded to in a fragment of Phoenicides' Auletrides (CAF [Kock] III. 333). The main literary sources for the war are Pausanias 1.10.2; Justin 16.3.1-2; and Plut. Pyrrhus 12.5.7. Because of the redating of the archons of the 280s (cf. B. D. Meritt, "Athenian Archons 3 4 7 / 6 - 4 8 / 7 B.c.," Historia 26 [1977] 172-173, for the most recent archon list) and hence of the inscriptions connected with it, earlier reconstructions of its course such as those of Beloch (supra n. 6) IV. 1. 239, IV. 2. 107, or W. W . T a r n , Antigonos Gonatas (Oxford 1913) 115-127, require thorough revision. 13. This is implied by the honors awarded Lysimachus' ambassadors to Athens in IG II 2 , 662 and 663. For the interpretation of these texts see Chr. Habicht, "Beiträge zur Prosopographie der altgriechischen Welt," Chiron 2 (1972) 107-109. 14. The latest clear reference to close relations between Athens and Lysimachus is IG II 1 , 657, which dates from late summer 283. Thereafter all that can be said is that Phylarchus, FGrH, 2A, 81 F 30 and IG II 2 , 672 suggest that by early 281 relations between them had worsened significantly. 15. IG II 2 , 657, 11.31-38 for the forts and Piraeus. For Eleusis, see below note 17. 16. IG II 2 , 657, 1.34. Ps.-Plut. Lives of the Ten Orators 851E. The statue of Lysimachus in the Agora mentioned by Pausanias (1.9.4) may have been Athens' response to these promises and gifts since I have shown elsewhere (S.M. Burstein, "I.G. II 2 1485A and Athenian Relations with Lysim a c h u s , " ZPE 31[1978] 181-185) that the crown mentioned at IG II 2 , 1485A, 11.27-29 should be connected with his gifts to Athens in 298 (IG II 2 , 657, 11.11-16). On all of this see now T. L. Shear, Jr., Kallias of Sphettos and the Revolt of Athens in 186 B.C., Hesperia: Supplement 17 (Princeton 1978) 79-86. 17. Antigonid occupation of Eleusis after Demetrius' withdrawal from Athens in 286 follows from the fact that Demochares recovered it for the city sometime between his return from exile in 286/5 (Ps.-Plut. Lives of the Ten Orators 851F) and early 284 when Athens again controlled it (IG II 2 , 1682). 18. This has been conceded by Osborne (supra n. 4) 101-103. 19. Osborne (supra n. 4) 102-103. 20. Internal vacats are used in line 10 to separate the decree proper from the narrative portion of the probouleuma, in line 28 to set off the price, and once in line 18 for punctuation or as the result of an error (cf. Osborne [supra n. 4] 102). 21. For an example of this particular flaw in an inscription from the first half of the third century see SEG 21, No. 357, 1 . 1 1 . 22. Cf. IG II 2 , p. 31 note ad IG II 2 , 808 and p. 237 note ad IG II 2 , 572. 23. IG II 2 , 643. 24. Meritt (supra n. 7) 145-146. This had already been pointed out by A. Wilhelm, Attische Urkunden II. Teil, SBWien 180.2 (1916) 14-15. With regard specifically to IG II 2 , 775, however, it should be noted that its most recent editor, R. O. Hubbe ("Decrees from the Precinct of Asklepios at Athens," Hesperia 28 [1959] 177 note ad line 37) has pointed out that the restoration of either E T P E or E T E E in line 37 is open to serious question since neither seems to fit easily into the available space. 25. Osborne (supra n. 4) 100. 26. This was pointed out by Osborne (supra n. 9) 137 on the basis of Aristophanes, Th. 1.432. 27. Omitted f r o m the survey is IG II 2 , 732, which employs the phrase E T P E (1.8), because the arguments advanced by Jan Pecirka (The Formula for the Grant of Enktesis in Attic Inscriptions [Prague 1966] 104) for dating it to 229 are too insubstantial to inspire confidence. For a list of the inscriptions summarized in Table 1 see Appendix 1. 28. I have followed Meritt (supra n. 12) 177 in dating the archonship of Antimachos to 233/2. Professor Christian Habicht, however, has informed me by letter that there are strong reasons for dating his archonship to the 250s. 29. Meritt (supra n. 7) 146 n. 1. 30. Osborne (supra n. 4) 100-101. 31. For a list of these inscriptions see Appendix 2.

48

Stanley M. Burstein

32. The redating of IG II 2 , 806 and 809 to 302 by E. Schweigert, "Greek Inscriptions," Hesperia 9 (1940) 350-351 leaves IG II 2 , 812 as the only inscription bearing a stated price tentatively dated to the period after 271. As it, however, is known only from a transcription by Pittakis, its date is by no means certain (cf. Osborne [supra n. 4] 101). 33. This is indicated by the provision that the disbursing officials n e p i a a i . . . [ÖCTOV &V TCH ÔIÎHCOI tpaiv-/] tixai in IG I P , 686,11.21-22 and that they \xepia-/[ai.. . ] TO ôiaiEiaynévov in IG II 2 , 690, 11.12-13. 34. E. Drerup, "Über die Publicationskosten der attischen Volksbeschlüsse," Jahrbücher für classische Philologie 153 (1896) 227-257. 35. Drerup (supra n. 34) 249-252. 36. The following three inscriptions also bear stated prices but are not included in Table 2 because the sole dating criterion present in them, the reference to plural disbursing officials, allows them only to be dated to the general period 286-262: Hesperia 5 (1936) No. 13; Hesperia 7 (1938) No. 19; and SEG 21, No. 357. 37. TGA is restored in line 46 of IG II 2 , 660 from late 281/0, but since the stone is broken at this point, the restoration is uncertain. The earliest certain example of TGA is Benjamin D. Meritt and John S. Trail, The Athenian Councilors (Princeton, 1974) No. 77 from the period 280-275. 38. SEG 14 No. 64 is ca. 1200 to 1300 letters long for ten drachmas, so that the same pricing system continued in use in the 270s although the actual statement of the price was exceptional. Osborne's citation [supra n. 4] 101) of IG II 2 , 839, 11.84-85 from 221/0, where the actual payment of 8*/J drachmas for inscribing a list of names approximately 1225 letters in length is recorded among other expenditures made pursuant to instructions contained in the body of the decree, is inappropriate because it does not represent the sum allocated by the demos for inscribing IG II 2 , 839 itself, and the price paid does not reflect a decimal pricing system as does IG II 2 , 808 and the other texts with stated prices. For the theory of a trend toward lower prices in the third century see R. P. Austin, The Stoichedon Style in Greek Inscriptions (Oxford 1938) 109-110. 39. Ps.-Plut. Lives of the Ten Orators 851E. 40. For the war in the north in general see above note 12. Military activity by Lysimachus in Epirus itself may be indicated by Hieronymus, FGrH, 2B, 154 F 9 (cf. Jacoby, FGrH, 2D, 546-547 note ad loc.\ and Tarn [supra n. 12] 120). 41. Close ties between Lysimachus and the Aetolians are indicated by the foundation of two cities in Aetolia named Lysimachia and Arsinoea (cf. Stephanus s. v. Lysimachia and Arsinoea; for the circumstances see Beloch [supra n. 6] 4,1, 241; and Édouard Will, Histoire politique du monde hellénistique [323-30 av. J.-C.] 1 [Nancy 1966] 83). 42. SEG 18, No. 197 B 1.9. 43. Thebes was in Antigonid hands in 286 (Plut. Dem. 45.3-46.1). The fact that Ptolemy, son of Lysimachus, set up a dedication to his mother Arsinoe there sometime between 284 and 281 ( S E G 25, No. 516; cf. Louis Robert, "Notes d'épigraphie hellénistique XL Inscription de Ptolémée, fils de Lysimaque," BCH 57 [1933] 485-491) indicates that Thebes severed her ties with Antigonus sometime thereafter. 44. Cf. Beloch (supra n. 6) 4,1, 241 and 4,2, 463 who dates to this period the embassies of Menedemus of Eretria to Lysimachus and Ptolemy and Antigonus' suspicions that he was plotting to betray Eretria to Ptolemy (Diog. Laert. 2.140). 45. The parallel between IG II 2 , 808. 11.7-8 and IG II 2 , 657, 11.22-23 suggests that recruiting may have been one of his goals. The present tense implies that he conducted his recruitment while in Attica. 46. From Epicurus F 42 (Epicuro, Opere, ed. Graziano Arrighetti [Turin I960]) it is clear that Athens had not recovered Piraeus at the time of Lysimachus' death in early 281, as was pointed out by Gaetano de Sanctis, "II dominio macedonico nel Pireo," Scritti minori, ed. Silvio Accame, 1 (Rome 1966) 490-500. For the centrality of the recovery of Piraeus in Athenian thinking in the late 280s see Shear (supra n. 16) 27-29, 82-83.

Bithys, Son of Cleon from

Lysimachia

49

APPENDIX I: REFERRAL FORMULAS

Number

Reference

Archon

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32.

IG II2 643 Hesperia 9 (1940) 13 IG II2 646 IG II2 648 IG II2 650 IG II2 654 IG II2 663 IG II2 657 IG II2 659 SEG 25, No. 90 IG II2 660 Hesperia 4 (1935) 5 IG II2 675 IG II2 704 SEG 14, No. 64 SEG 14, No. 65 IG II2 772 IG II2 661 IG II2 665 IG II2 667 IG II2 658 IG II2 700 IG II2 776 IG II2 778 IG II2 781 IG II2 782 Hesperia 11 (1942) 56 IG II2 791 IG II2 775 Hesperia 1 (1938) 25 IG II2 788 IG II2 769

Mnesidemos Nikostratos —

Diokles Diotimos Diotimos Euthios Euthios Ourias Ourias Olbios Glaukippos Lysithides Pytharatos Pytharatos Diogeiton Mnesikles Nikias Otryneus Nikias Otryneus Arrhenides Thymochares Alkibiades Thersilochos Thersilochos Thersilochos Diomedon Diomedon Lysiades Lysias Lysanias Antimachos

Date

ETPE

299/8 298/7 295/4 295/4 286/5 285/4 285/4 283/2 283/2 281/0 281/0 275/4 273/2 272/1 271/0 271/0 268/7 267/6 266/5 266/5 262/2 258/7 255/4 250/49 250/49 250/49 247/6 247/6 241/0 239/8 235/4 233/2

X X X X X X X X X X

X X

X X

APPENDIX II: PRICING FORMULAS

Number

Reference

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

IG II2 706 Hesperia 9 (1940) 47 Hesperia 5 (1936) 13 Hesperia 7 (1938) 19 SEG 21, No. 357 IG II2 663 IG II2 653 IG II2 657 Athenian Councilors 71

Archon — — — —

Diokles Diotimos Euthios Euthios

Date ante 286 286-262 286-262 286-262 286-262 286/5 285/4 283/2 283/2

Price

X X X X X

ETEE X X

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

50

Stanley M.

Burstein

APPENDIX II: PRICING FORMULAS

Number

Reference

Archon

10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 2-3. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45.

SEG 25, No. 89 SEG 25, No. 90 Athenian Councilors 77 IG II 2 677 IG II2 676 SEG 14, No. 64 SEG 14, No. 65 Hesperia Supp. 17 IG II2 686 IG II 2 690 IG II 2 665 IG II 2 668 IG II 2 682 Athenian Councilors 89 IG II2 780 Athenian Councilors 100 IG II 2 789 IG II 2 820 Athenian Councilors 93 Hesperia 30 (1961) 10 IG II2 791 IG II 2 766 IG II 2 775 Hesperia 6 (1937) 2 IG II 2 788 IG II 2 786 IG II2 835 Athenian Councilors 120 Athenian Councilors 121 Hesperia 4 (1934) 39 Athenian Councilors 126 Hesperia 6 (1937) 3 Athenian Councilors 127 Athenian Councilors 128 Athenian Councilors 129 Athenian Councilors 130

Nikias Ourias

(Continued)

Date

282/1 281/0 — 280-277 — post 277 Glaukippos 273/2 Pytharatos 271/0 Pytharatos 271/0 Sosistratos 270/69 — 260s — 260s Nikias Otryneus 266/5 Nikias Otryneus 266/5 — post 262 Philinos 254/3 Kallimides 252/1 — ca. 250 — mid 3rd c. — mid 3rd c. — mid 3rd c. — mid 3rd c. Diomedon 247/6 — post 246/5 Lysiades 241/0 — ca. 239/8 Lysanios 235/4 — post 229 — post 229 228/7 Leochares Ergochares 226/5 Ergochares 226/5 — post 225 — ca. 224/196 — 223/2 — 223/2 Archelaos 222/1 Menekrates 220/19

Price TGA X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

WILLIAM MUSGRAVE CALDER III

Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff on Sophocles: A Letter to Sir Herbert Warren

Werner Jaeger long ago remarked that "until his very last years Wilamowitz consciously neglected Sophocles." 1 The publication in 1970 of the first letter to Walter Bormann of 4 December 1869 told us why. Wilamowitz did not dislike Sophocles. He too much loved him. 2 One recalls Housman and Horace. 3 There was a second reason. From the start a revolutionary, for over fifty years Wilamowitz refused to adore Antigone, the favorite of nineteenth-century German schoolmasters. The play had been too much read and performed in schools and become a document in the history of feminism and the Religion of Love.4 For his habilitation he turned to a tragedian of whose limitations he was well aware. 5 To dedicate Analecta Euripidea to Mommsen was a typical and deliberate provocation. 6 Obviously Wilamowitz did not ignore Sophocles.7 He did not write books about him nor edit him as he did Aeschylus and Euripides. But by age eighteen he had read the preserved plays carefully, had clear views about them, and was acquainted with the chief critical problems.8 He later published interpretations of Oedipus Tyrannus, Electra, Philoctetes, Ichneutae, and Oedipus Coloneus. He translated Oedipus Tyrannus and PhiloctetesA comprehensive sketch appeared in his 10 History of Greek Literature and at age seventy-four a last one in Griechische Tragoedien IV. 11 Only the publication of the Index Locorum Wilamowitzianus will reveal accurately the countless detailed interpretations that fill over seventy volumes. If this was neglect of Sophocles, it was a Wilamowitzian neglect. Sir Thomas Herbert Warren (1853-1930) typifies that sort of 51

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William Musgrave Calder III

Englishman whose success non-English can never understand. 12 Born a businessman's son in Bristol, he attended Clifton College. Cyril Bailey observes:13 "He quickly made his mark both in work and games, and left in 1872 as head of the school and scholar-elect of Balliol College, Oxford, captain of football and fives champion." Benjamin Jowett (1817-1893),14 Regius Professor of Greek, had been two years Master of Balliol. The college was at the height of its reputation. In Oxford terms the intelligent, gregarious, and affable Warren was a stunning success. He gained a double first in classical moderations (1873) and literae humaniores (1876), won the Hertford scholarship, the Craven scholarship, and the Gaisford prize for Greek verse. He represented the University at Rugby football and "maintained his supremacy at fives, a game he continued to play with skill and vigour even after he became President of Magdalen College." 15 In 1877, with no publications, on the basis of athletic prowess and excellence in work that Nietzsche and Wilamowitz as Pforte schoolboys would have thought elementary, Warren was awarded a life post at Magdalen. Largely because of chumminess with undergraduates and missionary work in the public schools, Warren, at the astonishing age of thirty-two, was elected President of Magdalen, an office he held with distinction for forty-three years. He hired good teachers and sought undergraduates who either were gifted or possessed well-known fathers. The Roman historian J.P.V.D. Balsdon records 16 that Warren told an "oriental princeling who blushingly confessed that his name meant 'Son of God,' that there were sons of lots of distinguished men in College." His career climaxed in 1912 when King George V chose Magdalen for the Prince of Wales. Warren happily did not survive to experience the abdication. What Cyril Bailey, his loyal Balliol biographer, calls his "brilliant scholarship" 17 is negligible, has had no influence on subsequent work, and is deservedly forgotten. If historians of English literature adjudge his contemporary, A.E. Housman, "a minor poet," 18 Herbert Warren's volumes of labored verse do not exist for literature. Warren lacked the sustained intellectual power of Jowett but, eminently salonfähig, had in abundance his teacher's administrative and pedagogical talents. He owed a parochial reputation to his adoration of Jowett. Sir Leslie Stephen concluded that to his question, "Will the future historian of English thought be able to show that any of the important contributions to speculation bear the impress of Jowett's intellect?", "one can hardly deny that the answer must be unequivocably in the negative." 1 ' Warren provides no exception. 20

Wilamowitz-Moellendorff

on Sophocles

53

In The Quarterly Review of October 1903, Warren published an article of twenty-eight pages, "Sophocles and the Greek Genius."21 The article is an intelligent and accurate22 introduction, adorned with elegant translations, copious citation from English poets, and revealing remarkable familiarity with German literature, especially Goethe and Lessing, and with German classical scholarship, especially Wilamowitz and Kaibel. Philogermanism was one of the rare traits shared by Jowett and his great adversary, Mark Pattison (1813-1884), the friend of Jacob Bernays (1824-1881), Wilamowitz' teacher at Bonn.23 At Oxford in the second half of the nineteenth century to be liberal and avant garde required one to be a germanophile. The biographer of Max Miiller remarks:24 "in Balliol it became almost an affectation to employ German for saying things that could equally well be said in English." The historical, that is the analytical, study of the Old Testament had been almost a German monopoly. The heresy trials of William Robertson Smith at Aberdeen (1877-1881), the student of Albrecht Ritschl and a friend of Julius Wellhausen (they dedicated books to each other), were notorious in Britain and on the continent.25 The charge rose from his article, Bible, in the Encyclopaedia Britannica of 1875. Geddes' analytical study of Homer, published 1878 in Aberdeen,26 provides a clue. To prove parts of Homer late was methodologically to underline the absurdity of maintaining a Mosaic date for Deuteronomy and without risk of ruin. Wilamowitz dates Homerische Untersuchungen 17 May 1884, the fortieth birthday of Wellhausen. One sees how things worked together and the excitement of German discovery. Sir James G. Frazer had Wilamowitz at the top of a list to whom his publisher, Macmillan, sent Frazer's new books.27 Sir Richard Jebb sent his new books to Wilamowitz.28 Warren in late 1903 sent Wilamowitz an offprint from The Quarterly Review. Wilamowitz read the difficult English29 and wrote on 4 January 1904 a warm and approving reply from Westend, one of the most revealing and informative of his surviving letters. Why did this forgotten essay elicit such attention from the great Hellenist? Quite simply Warren's essay is remarkably Wilamowitzian. It is in the form of a biography. Warren seeks to see Sophocles historically. He never hesitates to add flesh where only bones survive. The style is vigorous and lucid, occasionally suggesting Gibbon.30 Rarely does the author provide precise references, never to secondary literature. In the Wilamowitzian manner his prose is laced with hidden citations. An easy mastery of sources is obvious. The chauvinism, evident in the extended

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encomium of Jebb, Wilamowitz would have approved. There is an autobiographical strain in the portrayal of Sophocles, the gifted middleclass youth made good.31 Warren handles sources critically but without extended argument and with generous use of the throwaway line, a famous Wilamowitzian device.32 The brief revealing modern parallel, Sophocles as Kipling or Tennyson, the statesman-poet, amused Wilamowitz. Sophocles—in Wilamowitzian terms33—becomes the shade into which Warren pours his blood, English blood. Sophocles is the same not different—the great divergence between Wilamowitz and the classicism of Winckelmann, Nietzsche, and George.34 Warren's familiarity with the German humanistic tradition, Goethe and less expectedly Lessing, a powerful formative influence on Wilamowitz, would have confirmed the Berliner's prejudices. We know too35 that Wilamowitz shared the ubiquitous German weakness for fame abroad ("Ruf im Ausland"). The amiable and extensive citation in English of his opinion36 could only flatter. That the only other German scholar cited was Wilamowitz' closest friend, Georg Kaibel, helped. Wilamowitz' reply deserves publication for what it says. But its biographical consequences are remarkable. The reply flattered Warren. As vice-chancellor of the University of Oxford (1906-1910), Warren arranged Wilamowitz' visit of 1908, the honorary degree, and the two public lectures translated by Gilbert Murray and published by the Oxford University Press.37 Wilamowitz and his wife, Marie Mommsen, were Warren's guests at the President's lodgings in Magdalen. Wilamowitz long remembered the visit.38 A contemporary English source attests its success.39 The textual history of the letter is notable. The original, if it exists, cannot be found. 40 Warren in 1909 published an English version of parts of the letter with several errors of translation. 41 Mr. P.G. Naiditch during his Housman research discovered on 23 March 1979 in the C.K. Ogden Collection of Special Collections at the University of California at Los Angeles a copy by an unknown hand ( = UCLA MS 100 BX67 Folder 1) of Wilamowitz' lost letter to Warren of 24 January 1904. Mr. Naiditch kindly forwarded a xerographed facsimile to me at Colorado. My text is based on his copy. The errors of the copyist, noted in my commentary, are ignorant enough that I believe they have all been corrected. The published translation confirms that there have been no omissions. Were it not for Mr. Naiditch I should never have been able to edit this letter. First thanks go to him. I thank the following as well. Schwester Hildegard von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, the sole surviving child of Ulrich, has allowed me to publish her father's letters. Mr. Brooke

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Whiting, Curator of Rare Books and Literary Manuscripts, in his letter of 17 May 1979, has granted me the permission of the Department of Special Collections, Research Library, University of California, Los Angeles, owner of the property, to publish the letter. Professor Albert Henrichs (Harvard University) discovered Warren's publication of the letter42 and sent me the valuable remarks noted below. Dr. Wolfgang Buchwald (Thesaurus Linguae Latinae, Munich) read my first copy of the copy. I have noted his remarks below. T H E LETTER

44

Westend 24. I. 0443

Hochgeehrter Herr, Erst spät komme ich dazu, 45 Ihren freundlichen Brief und Ihre interessante Sendung46 zu antworten. Anlass ist, dass ich nicht mit einem blossen Worte des Dankes erwidern wollte, und zu etwas besserem findet sich in einem von Amtspflichten zerrissenen Leben die Zeit schwer.47 Ihr Aufsatz hat mich in der Tat lebhaft beschäftigt. Es ist so überaus wertvoll die langvertrauten Objecte sich in einem ganz anderen Geiste spiegeln zu sehen, und für uns Deutsche ist das noch weit belehrender, wenn es aus England kommt, als wenn es französisch ist, denn das Französische ist uns ja viel vertrauter, und dann ist die altgefestigte Vertrautheit mit den griechischen Dichtern in dem Lande Bentleys und Porsons,48 zumal bei der stetigen Entwickelung, die Englands unvergleichlicher Vorzug ist, 4 ' etwas ganz eignes. Wie Sie Sophokles charakterisiren,50 das klingt uns wie die Lehre unserer Väter, und dass man die unterweilen hört, ist gut. Ich begreife, dass Sie an Lessing Gefallen finden,51 und kann Sie beruhigen: er ist auf unsern Schulen grade für das Tragische der allgemeine Lehrmeister.52 So hat er auch mich als Schüler ganz beherrscht. 53 Freilich biegen wir jetzt meist ziemlich stark ab, so auch ich; wie wir ja auch von Aristoteles abbiegen. Doch nicht davon will ich reden. Mich ziehen Ihre litterarischen Parallelen sehr an, —was Sie von Goethe sagen,54 was gelegentlich gestreift wird,55 wie die mich völlig überzeugende Verwandtschaft zwischen Tennyson und Vergil.56 Aber da will ich nichts erwidern, auch meine persönliche Stimmung und Neigung zurückhalten. Nur die Thatsache noch, die als Erfahrungstatsache doch Ihr Interesse wecken wird.57 Unter meiner Mitwirkung sind hier vor ein par58 Jahren der König Oedipus und die Antigone gegeben, zum Teil von hervorragenden Schauspielern.59 Der Oedipus hat ganz gewaltig gewirkt, Antigone nicht so stark. 60 Dagegen ist die

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Orestie, obwol61 die Inscenirung und Darstellung viel zu wünschen übrig Hess,62 ein ganz unvergleichlicher Erfolg gewesen, für viele ein Höchstes der Tragik. Sie erhält sich denn auch auf der Bühne, und selbst in einer Provinzialstadt ohne litterarisches Leben hat sie fünf Aufführungen erlebt. Die dramatische Kraft hat durchgeschlagen, wo die religiöse Tiefe nicht gewürdigt werden konnte. Doch ich wollte auf die Person des Sophokles hinaus. 63 Mich dünkt für seine Person kommen zwei durch die Inschriften constatirte Facta 64 sehr wesentlich in Betracht. Erstens, dass er Obmann der Hellenotamien gewesen ist, and das in dem Jahre, das nach dem Frieden mit Sparta und dem Ostrakismos des Thukydides eine neue Schätzung der Bündner brachte. 65 Wer diese Stellung einnahm, der war in eminentem Sinne politischer Beamter, er musste wirklich etwas von der schwierigsten Verwaltung verstehn, z. B. sicherlich Ratsherr gewesen sein. Und er war auch ausgesprochener Parteimann: Genosse des Perikles. Das sagt mehr als eine Stelle im Strategencolleg. 66 Wer so tief im politischen Leben gestanden hat, der hat mehr davon als der Weimarer Minister: 67 das ist doch wirklich damit vergleichbar, dass ein Mann aus dem Parlament bei Ihnen in ein Ministerium tritt. Ich denke, der Kreon der Antigone ist gezeichnet nach den Erfahrungen 68 die Sophokles mit Doctrinaren auf der Pnyx und im Rathaus gemacht hat, Erfahrungen, die dem Eurípides fehlen. Dafür hat Sophokles die grosse geistige Bewegung seiner Zeit nicht verstanden: Anaxagoras war ihm nichts. 69 Das führt zu dem zweiten. Wie die Inschriften des athenischen Asklepieions gelehrt haben, ist Asklepios als Gott erst nach dem Nikiasfrieden eingeführt; 70 das war eine religiöse politische Action, und dabei hat sich Sophokles so beteiligt, dass er die Consecrirung als Dexion sich verdiente. 71 Ja, dann hat er die Schlange des Asklepios oder sonst einen Fetisch als Gott bei sich aufgenommen, hat an den Zauber der Asklepiosincubation geglaubt. 72 Welch ein Gegensatz zu Anaxagoras und zu seinen beiden tragischen Genossen. Wer so gestimmt war, der war gewiss religiös das leugne ich nicht, sondern halte alles für echt und lauter in ihm, aber ich denke das was das Hellentum uns als das höchste hinterlassen hat, ist eine andere Frömmigkeit, ist grade, dass man diese Art überwand. 73 Endlich sehe ich keine Spur von Wahrscheinlichkeit, dass die Selbstkritik über seine stilistische Entwickelung, 74 dis Plutarch in der Schrift de profectibus in virtute von Sophokles erzählt, 75 von jemand anderem als dem Dichter selbst herrühre: 76 ein unschätzbares Geständniss. "nachdem ich den Schwulst des Aischylos durchgespielt hatte (spielend bis zum Ende getrieben) und dann das Herbe und Gekünstelte meiner eignen Composition, habe ich endlich die Form des Ausdruckes

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gefunden, die am meisten Ethos (Innerlichkeit, würde ich deutsch sagen, aber das verstehn wir sicherer griechisch)77 enthält und die beste ist." Das zweite würde kein Fremder zu sagen gewagt haben. 78 Ich finde es durchaus 79 zutreffend, denn des Gekünstelten hat sein Stil immer viel behalten, daher die Unzahl Aenderungen, die jeder Kenner jetzt verwirft. Das ist gewiss eine Bestätigung dafür, dass er, wie Sie sagen, 80 sehr bewusst schuf, aber es schränkt doch die Vorstellung von der Classicität alles Sophokleischen etwas ein. 81 Die alten Kritiker mit der Klage über seine ävco|aaXia hatten wol Recht 82 —bei Euripides ist sie freilich noch viel stärker. Die Statue von Terracina ist sehr schön: 83 so etwa schildern Sie ihn. Aber sie hat nicht sehr viel Individuelles, und wenn sie das Embonpoint 84 verbirgt, so ist mir wertvoller, dass es noch zu kennen ist. Denn ich suche den Menschen möglichst ganz wie er war. 85 Für das grosse Publicum ist es aber gut dass es Bilder erhält, wie das Ihre, das ich darum gleich meiner Frau und meinen Töchtern zu lesen gegeben habe, 86 mich selbst zu corrigieren. Schliesslich wird es Sie freuen, dass ich unter unseren Papyri eine Seite aus einem Sophokleischen Drama gefunden habe, gut erhalten, alles sicher zu ergänzen, Schluss eines Liedes und dann Anfang eines lebhaften Dialoges zwischen Achilleus und Odysseus. Stil etwa des Aias. Es wird leider länger als ich für richtig halte währen, bis es gedruckt wird. 87 Und nun hoffe ich gezeigt zu haben, dass ich Ihrer Freundlichkeit nicht unwürdig war. Ich habe die mir von Oxford zugedachte Ehre auf das höchste gewertet, 88 und dass ich sie nicht annehmen durfte, erzeugte einen starken Conflict. 89 Aber die Pflicht entscheidet, 90 und je mehr sie der Eigenliebe zu nahe tut, 91 um so verbindlicher ist sie. Ob ich die langgehegte Hoffnung ausführen kann, England zu besuchen, steht bei den Göttern. 92 Unser einer hat der Organisation unserer Arbeit gemäss, so selten freie Zeit, dass er in den Jahren Arbeitsfähigkeit auf vieles verzichten muss. In ausgezeichneter Hochachtung dankbar ergebenst Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff University of Colorado NOTES 1. Werner Jaeger, Paideia: the Ideals of Greek Culture, translated by Gilbert Highet I2 (New York 1945) 473 n. 4. "Until his last years" may be an unnecessary limitation. 2. GRBS 11 (1970) 147: "geliebt habe ich in später nur als Sophokles, der vollendet da steht, wie sein bild im braccio nuovo, noch über menschlicher liebe und—doch Uber derlei sag'ich nichts, den jedes eigne wort scheint mir trivial oder bizarr."

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3. See the famous report of Mrs. T . W . Pym, apud Grant Richards, Housman 1897-1936 (New York 1942) 289. 4. For his scepticism at age eighteen see Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, In wieweit befriedigen die Schlüsse der erhaltenen griechischen Trauerspiele?: Ein ästhetischer Versuch, ed. William M. Calder III (Leiden 1974) 77 and the remarkably similar judgment at age seventy-four in Griechische Tragoedien IV (Berlin 1923) 340-341. 5. See Trauerspiele, 95: "Von einem ersten Dichter der Welt, überhaupt von zwei Tragikern erster Classe, steigen wir nun zu einem mittelmässigen Dichter und schlechten Tragiker herab, zu Euripides." This judgment of 1867 is endorsed in 1869. See GRBS 11 (1970) 147: "Euripides . . . den ich als dichter, vom volks- oder üblicher gesagt weltliterarischen Standpunkt nicht besser beurteile wie früer." But he understands now the importance of Euripides for the intellectual history of his time. 6. Mommsen had earlier and eloquently expressed his views on Euripides: Theodor Mommsen, Römische Geschichte 2 (Munich 1976) 436-440. For his view of Hippolytus see Mommsen und Wilamowitz: Briefwechsel 1872-1903, edd. Friedrich and Dorothea Hiller von Gaertringen (Berlin 1935) 426-429. For Wilamowitz' reaction see Eduard Schwartz, Gesammelte Schriften 1 (Berlin 1938) 371 and now GRBS 20 (1979) 219-236. 7. Of the great Greek authors he only and consciously ignored Demosthenes: see CW 72 (1978/79) 239-240. 8. Trauerspiele, 70-95. 9. See "Exkurse zum Oedipus des Sophokles," Hermes 34 (1899) 55-80 = KS 6.209-233; "Die beiden Elektren," Hermes 18 (1883) 214-263 = KS 6.161-208; "Sophokles, Philoktetes," Griechische Tragoedien IV (Berlin 1923) 3-30; "Die Spürhunde des Sophokles," Neue Jahrbücher für das klass. Altertum 29 (1912) 449-476 = KS 1.347-383; "Oedipus auf Kolonos," apud Tycho von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, "Die Dramatische Technik des Sophokles," Philologische Untersuchungen 22 (Berlin 1917) 313-376. The translation of OT is found at Griechische Tragoedien I" (Berlin 1904) 27-94 and with the revised posthumously published introduction at Sophokles Ödipus griechisch und deutsch, ed. Carl Kappus (Berlin/Frankfurt am Main 1949). The translation of Philoctetes is at GrTr IV.31-114. 10. Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, "Die griechische Literatur des Altertums," apud Die griechische und lateinische Literatur und Sprache = Die Kultur der Gegenwart I.8 3 , ed. Paul Hinneberg (Leipzig/Berlin 1912) 75-78. 11. GrTr IV.324-363. 12. See Cyril Bailey, apud Dictionary of National Biography: 1922-1930, ed. J.R.H. Weaver (Oxford 1939) 891-893. From this is drawn my brief account of Warren's life. For details see Laurie Magnus, Herbert Warren of Magdalen: President and Friend 1853-1930 (London 1932). 13. Ibid., 891. "Fives" is a game of handball played by two or four, but not five, players. 14. See Geoffrey Faber, Jowett: A Portrait with Background (London 1957). 15. Bailey (supra n. 12) 891. 16. Dacre Balsdon, Oxford Life (Fair Lawn 1958) 31. 17. Bailey (supra n. 12) 892. 18. For a recent evaluation with references to earlier ones see B.J. Leggett, The Poetic Art of A.E. Housman: Theory and Practice (Lincoln 1978). 19. Leslie Stephen, Studies of a Biographer 2 (London 1931) 130-131. 20. For Warren's remarks at the death of Jowett see Caroline Jebb, Life and Letters of Sir Richard Claverhouse Jebb O.M., Litt. D. (Cambridge 1907) 286. 21. T. Herbert Warren, "Sophocles and the Greek Genius," The Quarterly Review 198 No. 396 (October 1903) 307-335; reprinted in T. Herbert Warren, D.C.L., Essays of Poets and Poetry Ancient and Modern (London 1909) 1-43. The death of Jebb in 1905 caused slight alterations in the reprinted version. All references are to the second version. 22. The only slip I detect is the false assertion (32) that upon arrival at the cave Kreon finds that Haemon "has killed himself upon her dead body." For details see GRBS 3 (1960) 31-35. 23. See Mark Pattison, Memoirs, introduction by Jo Manton (Fontwell 1969); John Sparrow, Mark Pattison and the Idea of a University (Cambridge 1967); and Joyce Hoar, Mark Pattison

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1813-1884: A Bibliography of his Published Works (Diss. University of London 1953). We have an exemplary life of Bernays: Hans I. Bach, "Jacob Bernays: Ein Beitrag zur Emanzipationsgeschichte der Juden und zur Geschichte des deutschen Geistes im neunzehnten Jahrhundert," Schriftenreihe wissenschaftlicher Abhandlungen des Leo Baeck Instituts 30 (Tübingen 1974). For Wilamowitz and Bernays see my "Letters of Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff to Theodor and Heinrich Gomperz," Philologus 122 (1978) 294-296 and William M. Calder III and Hermann Funke, "Vier Briefe Jacob Bernays' an Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff," RhM forthcoming. 24. Nirad C. Chaudhuri, Scholar Extraordinary: The Life of Professor the Rt. Hon. Friedrich Max Müller, P.C. (London 1974) 100. 25. For the heresy trials of Smith see John Sutherland Black and George Chrystal, The Life of William Robertson Smith (London 1912) 235-451. He was throughout supported by Wellhausen. For Wellhausen see Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Erinnerungen 1848-19142 (Leipzig 1929) 188-191 and Eduard Schwartz, "Julius Wellhausen," Gesammelte Schriften 1 (Berlin 1938) 326-361. 26. William D. Geddes, The Problem of the Homeric Poems (Macmillan 1878). Geddes was Professor of Greek at Aberdeen and a teacher of Smith. 27. See Robert Ackerman and William M. Calder III, "The Correspondence of Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff with Sir James George Frazer," PCPS NS 24 (1978) 31, 37 n. 4. 28. In a brief letter of 10 October 1905 Wilamowitz acknowledges receipt of Jebb's Bacchylides. 29. For his difficulty with English see his frank letter of 30 March 1908 to Finsler, Briefe von Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff an Georg Finsler, ed. E. Tieche (Bern 1953) 20: "Murray wird für mich zwei Vortäge übersetzen, die ich Anfang Juni in Oxford halten soll, von der Universität ganz officiell eingeladen, wo ich denn nicht ablehnen durfte, so schwer es mich belastet, zumal ich englisch reden gar nicht k a n n . " The official invitation would have been from the ViceChancellor, Sir Herbert Warren. 30. See, e.g., Warren, 11: "The story of the manner of his death and of his burial are both significant. The better versions of the first are pretty, the legend of the last is lovely, but chronology pronounces it apocryphal." At 22 Warren cites "the Captain of the Hampshire grenadiers (the reader may smile) has not been useless to the historian of the Roman Empire." The reference is Edward Gibbon, Memoirs of my Life, ed. Georges A. Bonnard (New York 1966) 117. For Wilamowitz' appreciation of elegant English learned prose see his letter to Sir James George Frazer of 27 November 1906 at PCPS NS 24 (1978) 36 with n. 46. 31. See especially Warren, 6: "Probably he [Sophocles' father] . . . was a well-to-do bourgeois, keeping a small manufacturing business, such as Demosthenes' father kept a century later. In Athens, as elsewhere, the sons of such men have had perhaps the best of all starts in life." The autobiographical strain in Wilamowitz' great bpoks, not least Platon and Pindaros, is well known. 32. E.g., "He is called the pupil of Aeschylus, as a great Italian painter is often called the pupil of his chief predecessor" (7); "For he was probably a moderate in politics as in everything else, and meant the Four Hundred to be merely an executive committee and not the tyrannical junta which it proved" (10); and on the alleged action de lunatico inquirendo, "It is very probably a scene from a comedy" (12). 33. See Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Greek Historical Writing and Apollo: Two Lectures Delivered before the University of Oxford June 3 and 4, 1908 (Oxford 1908) 25, quoted by A.D. Nock, Conversion (Oxford 1933) 270. Miss Margaret C. Hall has drawn my attention to the remarkable fact that at ibid., 26, Wilamowitz cites A. Ag. 312 with 5p6|ioi for vönoi. He cites as always from memory. I consider the change a trick of memory rather than an emendation. It is not noted in the commentators nor in Dr. Dawe's Repertory. 34. See my "Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff to Wolfgang Schadewaldt on the Classic," GRBS 16 (1975) 451-457. 35. Erinnerungen31 Iff. 36. The citation at Warren, 13 is from Griechische Tragoedien I (Berlin 1899) 19-20. 37. See supra n. 33. 38. See Erinnerungen2, 312: "Oxford in lachendem Frühling zu sehen, bei dem Vizekanzler, dem Präsidenten von Magdalen College, in den Zimmern zu wohnen, in den Betten zu schlafen, wo

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einst die Stifter des College, Heinrich VIII, und Anna Boleyn, geschlafen hatten, in Queenscollege zu Grenfell und Hunt hinaufzusteigen, um einen Blick auf ihre Papyrusschätze zu werfen . . . . das war alles in seiner Weise . . . bezaubernd." Grenfell and Hunt could converse in German: see Engelbert Drerup, "Aus Versunkenen Tagen: Jugenderinnerungen," Rhetorische Studien Ergänzungsband 2 (Paderborn/Zürich 1939) 255. 39. Set Letters of P.S. Allen, edited by H.M. Allen (London 1939) 77 (5 June 1908): "We have been celebrating Wilamowitz-Moellendorff—we being this University—; giving him a D. Litt, and hearing him lecture. He is a fine looking man, and smiles most charmingly whenever he has anything agreeable to say—indeed for long passages at a time he quite beamed on his audience. Last night again he was at a meeting of the Philological Society, where Hunt read a paper on the new fragments of the Hypsipyle of Euripides discovered at Oxyrhynchus. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff lectured in English, and was fairly intelligible: but in speaking both before and after the lecture and at the Society he used German, which—so far as I could follow—was full of interest." 1 owe this reference to the learned P.G. Naiditch. 40. Dr. Oliver Taplin (Magdalen College) writes 25 May 1979 that the College does not possess Warren's Nachlaß. 41. See Essays, 326-328: "Appendix: Extract from a Letter of Prof. Ulrich von WilamowitzMoellendorf (sic!)." 42. Reference to the letter (supra n. 41) must be added to: F. Frhr. Hiller v. Gaertringen and G. Klaffenbach, Wilamowitz-Bibliographie 1868-1929 (Berlin 1929) 43. 43. The paucity of error in a copy made by a man not easy in German suggests a typed original. Wilamowitz knew the obscurity of his handwriting and regularly extended foreign correspondents the courtesy of typed replies: see C7 72 (1976/77) 115-127 (Oldfather) and PCPS NS 24 (1978) 31-40 (Frazer). The copyist identifies the addressee. 44. For the formal address compare the letter to Loeb of 28 April 1931 at ICS 2 (1977) 325. There had not been a long correspondence between the two men. 45. Added by W. Buchwald and A. Henrichs, presumably omitted by the copyist. 46. T. Herbert Warren, "Sophocles and the Greek Genius," The Quarterly Review 198 No. 396 (October 1903) 307-335. 47. Wilamowitz had traveled to Athens with Marie Mommsen to celebrate their silver wedding anniversary (20 September 1903) and continued after her return with Hiller von Gaertringen and Alard du Bois Reymond to Thera: see Erinnerungen2, 266-271. The death of his father-in-law, Theodor Mommsen, on 1 November 1903 recalled him to Berlin and a full teaching schedule. On 5 December 1903 his nephew Richard had died at Helvan in Egypt. The day after his letter to Warren he writes Adolf von Harnack of his willingness to read the proof of Stählin's Clemens Alexandrinus: see Studia Byzantina 2 (1973) 372-373. 48. For Wilamowitz on Bentley and Porson see especially Geschichte der Philologie3 (Leipzig 1959) 35-38 and Euripides Herakles I ! : Einleitung in die Griechische Tragödie (Darmstadt 1969) 228-231. Wilamowitz' observation (228), "Die Entwickelung der englischen Philologie von Bentleys Brief an Mill bis zu dem unseligen Jahre 1825, wo Peter Dobree in das Grab sank, das sich kaum über Peter Elmsley geschlossen hatte . . . " i s the source of A.E. Housman's "History repeats itself, and we now witness in Germany pretty much what happened in England after 1825, when our own great age of scholarship, begun in 1691 by Bentley's Epistola ad Millium, was ended by the successive strokes of doom which consigned Dobree and Elmsley to the grave and Blomfield to the bishopric of Chester." (Selected Prose, ed. John Carter [Cambridge 1961] 41.) 49. See Wilamowitz, Geschichte (supra n. 48) 34: "Wer zwischen den klösterlichen Prachtbauten der Colleges von Oxford und Cambridge wandelt, dem wird es sinnfällig klar, daß in England der Übergang zur Reformation keinen schweren Bruch mit der Vergangenheit bedeutet wie bei uns." And see also of England at Erinnerungen7, 312: ". . . des Landes, das keinen dreißigjährigen Krieg und keine französischen Raubzüge gekannt hat . . ." The letter to Warren proves that visits to England only confirmed earlier insight. 50. The copyist has charackterisiren. 51. Warren, 19-20, discusses Lessing's study of Sophocles and cites in English (20) Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, Gesammelte Schriften 4: Über die Fabel Literaturbriefe Sophokles, ed. Paul

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Rilla (Berlin 1955) 442. The words "keine Mühe ist vergebens, die einem andern Mühe ersparen kann." were the motto of William A. Oldfather: see CJ 41 (1945/46) 10. 52. See Wilamowitz, Herakles I 3 .233-234 with n. 9, and compare the similar praise of Lessing at A. E. Housman, The Confines of Criticism: The Cambridge Inaugural 1911. ed. John Carter (Cambridge 1969) 26-27. Housman introduces Lessing with the famous sentence (26): "Orators and poets, sages and saints and heroes, if rare in comparison with blackberries, are yet commoner than the appearance of Halley's comet; literary critics are less common." Halley's comet appeared in March 1910 but a remarkable parallel deserves notice. Compare Phillips Brooks, Lectures on Preaching (New York 1888) 178: "Of oratory, and all the marvelous mysterious ways of those who teach it, I dare say nothing. I believe in the true elocution teacher, as I believe in the existence of Halley's comet, which comes into sight of this earth once in about seventy-six years." The collocation oratory and Halley's comet in both passages deserves notice. 53. For Wilamowitz' reading of Lessing at Schulpforte see Erinnerungen1, 65, 78 n. 2 and GrTr IV. 241-242: "Wir Deutschen kommen an die Poetik des Dramas auf der Schule zunächst durch Lessings hamburgische Dramaturgie, in der die Regeln der französischen klassischen Tragödie von zwei sehr verschiedenen Seiten bekämpft werden, von dem eben erst entdeckten Shakespeare und von dem als maßgebend anerkannten Aristoteles her." The boy cites Lessing at Trauerspiele, 71. 54. Warren, 11-12, 14ff, where he compares Sophocles with Goethe. 55. Warren translates (326): "which will be contested by more than one." Albert Henrichs notes that this "should read 'the things mentioned in passing': Warren apparently confused 'gestreift' and 'gestritten,' the latter from 'streiten.' " 56. See Warren, 14 with n. 1: "We have compared Sophocles, too, with a poet who has much in common with Virgil, Lord Tennyson." 57. Warren (326) translates: "These facts, however, as facts of experience, will arouse your interest." Rather "But I do (mention) one fact, however, which as a fact of experience . . ." (A. Henrichs). 58. "Ältere Orthographie" (W. Buchwald). This is regular in Wilamowitz. 59. Wilamowitz discusses the performances of his translations at Erinnerungen1, 254-255. For details and a critical assessment see Wolfgang Schadewaldt, Antike Tragödie auf der Modernen Bühne (Heidelberg 1957) 50-51. The Oresteia opened in Berlin "Theater des Westens" on 6 December 1900 and was six times sold out. Theodor Gomperz on 7 December 1900 saw Paul Schlenther's famous production at the Wiener Burgtheater: Heinrich Gomperz and Robert A. Kann, "Theodor Gomperz: ein Gelehrtenleben im Bürgertum der Franz-Josefs-Zeit Auswahl seiner Briefe und Aufzeichnungen, 1869-1912, Erläutert und zu einer Darstellung seines Lebens Verknüpft," Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften Philosophisch-Historische Klasse Sitzungsberichte, 295. Band (Vienna 1974) 325 with n. 379. For an important supplement to Wilamowitz' own account see Gottfried Reinhardt, Der Liebhaber: Erinnerungen seines Sohnes an Max Reinhardt (Munich/Zürich 1973) 167, 239-240.1 owe the last reference to Professor Henry Kahane (University of Illinois at Urbana), whose father was secretary to Max Reinhardt. 60. For gewaltig cf. Erinnerungen1, 254: "Der Erfolg war gewaltig." The prejudice against Antigone persists: see supra n. 4. Furthermore, the translation would not have been his. 61. The copyist first wrote obwohl, then crossed out the A, and placed it in parentheses above the word. The idiosyncratic spelling is a relic of the Grimm reforms which Wilamowitz fanatically observed in his early twenties: see GRBS 11 (1970) 145ff. In old age he regretted his youthful folly: see Erinnerungen1, 130, a reference to Erwin Rohde's nasty jab at Afterphilologie: Zur Beleuchtung des von dem Dr. phil. Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Möllendorff herausgegeben Pamphlets: 'Zukunftsphilologie!': Sendschreiben eines Philologen an Richard Wagner (Leipzig 1872) 5 n. = Der Streit um Nietzsches "Geburt der Tragödie": Die Schriften vonE. Rohde, R. Wagner, U. v. WilamowitzMöllendorff, ed. Karlfried Gründer (Hildesheim 1969) 68 n. 62. W. Buchwald cites Karl Reinhardt, Vermächtnis der Antike: Gesammelte Essays zur Philosophie und Geschichtsschreibung1, ed. Carl Becker (Göttingen 1966) 384. 63. Warren (327) translates: "But I do not want to leave the personality of Sophokles." Rather' "But what I have been trying to get at is the personality of Sophocles" (A. Henrichs). 64. The copyist writes Facte. W. Buchwald emends to Facta, the latinized "Schulpfortedeutsch"

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so dear to Wilamowitz. There are several examples of confusion of e and a in the text. A. Henrichs suggests Facten which is by no means improbable. 65. Cf. GrTr IV. 329: "Aber im Staatsdienste mußte er sich vielfach bewährt haben, als er 443/2 Obmann der Hellenotamien ward, so etwas wie Reichsschatzsekretär. Es war ein sehr wichtiges Jahr, denn es brachte eine neue Schätzung der Tribute, die erste nach dem Frieden mit den Peloponnesiern, und nur ein Anhänger der perikleischen Politik konnte dazu gewählt werden." For the ancient evidence see ATL IV.117 s.n. Sophokles, of Kolonos. 66. The copyist unnecessarily adds supralineal sic after this word. For the matter see Wilamowitz, Aristoteles und Athen 2 (Berlin 1893) 298 n. 14. For modern discussion see L. Woodbury, Phoenix 24 (1970) 209ff. 67. That is Goethe, to whom Warren (16) compared Sophocles regarding "acquaintance with affairs, both civil and military." 68. See especially GrLit (supra n. 10), 75: " . . . daß die Antigone mit der frischen Erfahrung eines Staatssekretärs des Reichsschatzamtes verfaßt ist." The whole sequence of argument here and at GrTr IV.329-332 is similar to his letter. 69. Cf. GrLit, 75: "Mit der ionischen Wissenschaft und mit der Rhetorik hat er keinerlei Verbindung." 70. For the evidence see Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Möllendorff, Der Glaube der Hellenen II 1 (Basel 1956) 221 with n. 1. 71. See for the same view: GrTr IV.330-331; GrLit 75, Glaube II ! . 232. For ancient evidence and bibliography see Testimonia Sophoclea 67-73 Radt. 72. In spite of his admiration of Sophocles, Wilamowitz, a typical product of thz Aufklärung, could not forgive Sophocles belief in superstition: see especially GrTr IV. 331: "Wenn Sophokles dem Asklepios gehuldigt hat, so hat er an die Heilungen geglaubt, die der Gott den Gläubigen in ihrem Schlafe gewährte." For precisely this reason Arthur Darby Nock in his seminars used to call Sophocles "an ordinary Athenian, not particularly bright." 73. Here Wilamowitz combats the view of Warren (36-37): "He stands just at the point where superstition and free-thought meet. His is a national religion." etc. 74. W. Buchwald well compares GrLit (supra n. 10) 77: "Wir besitzen ein Selbstzeugnis über seine Stilentwickelung; er hätte erst die Nachahmung der aischyleischen Erhabenheit, dann das Verkünstelte der eigenen Begabung überwinden müssen." Cf. KS 4. 205: Selbstkritik. 75. Plu. Mor. 79B = 1.157.23ff Paton-Wegehaupt-Pohlenz-Gärtner = Soph. T 100 Radt q.v. for bibliography. 76. Long before at Hermes 10 (1876) 334 n. 1 Wilamowitz had suggested that Plutarch's source was Ion. This has become common, not unanimous, opinion. Warren (27) had paraphrased the passage in English. 77. See the important discussion at KS 4.204-205. To Radt's bibliography add Aischylos Interpretationen (Berlin 1914) 233 with n. 1. 78. The copyist has su sagen bewagt, corrected by W. Buchwald and A. Henrichs. 79. The copyist has durcjihaus with supralinear sic: proof, I should think, that the original was typed. 80. See Warren, 26: "It is of the essence of Sophocles that he is an artist, and a critical and selfconscious artist." 81. W. Buchwald well compares KS 1.223. 82. Wilamowitz refers to Plu. Mor. 45B = 1.90.19-20 Paton-Wegehaupt-Pohlenz-Gärtner = T 122 Radt. Compare his remark to Schadewaldt at GRBS 16 (1975) 455: "Bei Sophokles wurde gerade seine Anomalia empfunden, wie Plutarch berichtet." Warren (18) had referred to the ancient charge of "unevenness." 83. The Lateran Sophocles, found at Terracina in 1839, presented by the Antonelli family to Pope Gregory XVI, is now in the Vatican: see Helga von Heintze, apud Wolfgang Helbig and Hermine Speier, Führer durch die öffentlichen Summlungen klassischer Altertümer in Rom I Die Päpstlichen Sammlungen im Vatikan und Lateran (Tübingen 1963) 767-768 No. 1066. For Wilamowitz' early adoration of this statue (1870) see supra n. 2. In his old age he writes (GrTr IV.325): "In

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den 40er Jahren kam in der Statue von Terracina ein Porträt des Sophokles zutage, das dem Ideal des Dichters entsprach, denn es zeigt den typisch schönen Athener. Von dem Geiste des Tragikers hat der Künstler nichts zu geben versucht, der in der demosthenischen Zeit vor die Aufgabe gestellt war, die Ehrenstatue zu machen . . . In das Griechentum, dessen Prophet Ernst Curtius gewesen ist, gehörte der Sophokles von Terracina." Warren (41) had referred to "his statue in the Lateran Museum." 84. Later Wilamowitz would repeat the complaint (GrTr IV.325): "Ein individuelles Bild seines Leibes besitzen wir nicht." W. Buchwald draws attention to KS 1. 163 = Hermes 21 (1886) 612, where Wilamowitz argues from the Sophocles of Terracina for an early date for Nausicaa (frr. 439-441 Radt): "Wie die Statue trotz aller Milderung erkennen läßt, hatte er sich als Mann auf der Höhe des Lebens ein Bäuchlein angemäst't: da wird er kein junges Mädchen mehr gespielt haben." For Wilamowitz it is the "pot-belly," or, for the Englishman, more elegantly the Embonpoint, the one individual detail to survive the artist's leveling classicism, that makes the Lateran Sophocles great. This is the quintessence of his historicism. 85. Again the quintessence of Wilamowitzian historicism. Compare his description of Platon to Werner Jaeger (31 July 1917) at HSCP 82 (1978) 318: "Sie wissen also, dass ich Platon den Menschen suche, nicht den Philosophen." When Jaeger read the book he cried "You have restored Plato the man to the world:" see HSCP 82 (1978) 326. Compare the aged (26 February 1931) Wilamowitz' stubborn defence of his method to the philosopher Julius Stenzel: AuA 25 (1979) 95-96. Modern critics who think they know better may disapprove the method but ought to judge Wilamowitz' accomplishment by his stated standards. 86. Wilamowitz' honesty sounds condescending. Warren predictably omits the sentence from his published translation. In fact Wilamowitz' wife and elder daughters knew English better than he: see Erinnerungen1, 230 n. 1. 87. The papyrus was published three years later: W. Schubart and U. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Berliner Klassikertexte V Griechische Dichterfragmente 2 Lyrische und Dramatische Fragmente (Berlin 1907) No. XVI "Sophokles, Achäerversammlung," 64-72 = S. frag. 142 Pearson = 449 Pack 2 = 3 Page. E. W. Handley and John Rea, "The Telephus of Euripides," ICSBull Supp. 5 (London 1957) 1-16 argued Euripidean attribution = Eur. fr. 149 Austin. 88. Oxford apparently had already offered him an honorary degree, which he would not receive until 1908: see supra, n. 39. He had worked closely with Grenfell, Hunt, and Murray, who, however, was never his student: see CP 71 (1977) 53-54. 89. Typical Schulpfortedeutsch. 90. Compare Erinnerungen7, 239: "aber der Mensch ist ja nicht dazu da, glücklich zu sein, sondern der Pflicht zu gehorchen." 91. A Wilamowitzian idiom: see W. Buchwald, apud Wilamowitz KS 6.383 ad 98: " 'damit tat man der Wissenschaft zu nah': die jetzt veraltete Wendung 'jemanden zu nah tun' auch unter S. 185." 92. The Gods decided for June 1908: see supra nn. 33 and 39.

TERESA CARP

Teiresias, Samuel, and the Way Home

i Critics from Hellenistic to modern times have questioned the authenticity and appropriateness of the nekyia of Odyssey 11 for a variety of reasons familiar to students of the poem. 1 Not the least of these is the fact that Odysseus has seemingly gone on an aimless quest since Teiresias fails to give him specific information on how to get home, information that Circe had claimed was to be revealed by the dead seer (10.538-540): evtfa toi auxiKa ^dvxiq ¿Xeuaexav, opxajie Xacbv, 6q k£v t o i eurr|mv 68ov Kai jx&rpa Ke>.eCi9ou vooxov 0', ax; ¿jri rcovxov ¿Xeuaeai ix^uoevta. The contribution of comparative mythology—that is, the notion of an encounter with the beyond as an integral part of the morphology of heroic narrative (as witness similar undertakings by Gilgamesh, Theseus, and Herakles)—only frustrates attempts at resolution of the anomalies within the episode by making it appear a requisite but inept treatment of a traditional element of a heroic pattern.2 Likewise, various schools of psychological criticism in interpreting the episode in terms of figurative death and rebirth, offer a good deal of insight. However, the understanding of the nekyia cannot be achieved without the use of other types of evidence specific to ancient Greek culture, particularly evidence of a linguistic and philological nature.

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Now the publication of Douglas Frame's study of the meaning of nous and nostos has helped to resolve much of the interpretive problem by showing that the central mythological motif of the poem is the hero's "return" in the sense of the "return to life and light," which is Frame's understanding of the meaning of the Indo-European root *nes-.3 One could say that the concept of nostos, or "homecoming" in the sense of the "discovery of the self," adds sound linguistic support to the intuition of psychological critics. The significance of the nekyia as the major narrative expression of this concept in the Odyssey can no longer be called into question on grounds of insufficient internal evidence.4 Frame, however, further argues that the episode, together with certain parallels from Greek tradition, represents an archetypal IndoEuropean solar mythology.5 The purpose of the present discussion is to demonstrate rather that the nekyia reflects a dramatically more functional motif, that of the consultation theme, which in several cultures is a traditional metaphor of mediation between human and divine in the search for self-awareness. For this purpose I have chosen to compare the nekyia in terms of setting and content with a story outside of the Indo-European mythological tradition, namely the peculiar necromantic episode of I Samuel 28, in which a desperate King Saul consults the Woman of Endor on the eve of a crucial battle with the Philistines. A detailed comparison of themes and narrative sequence follows. II 1. The protagonist of both stories is a traditional hero. 2. The hero is confused about his identity at a critical point in his career. Each hero may, in fact, be described as being in a situational and spiritual crisis, though not necessarily conscious of the latter element. In both cases the crisis is defined primarily in terms of the hero's relationship with the divine. Saul's special relationship with God derives from his leadership of the nation of Israel while Odysseus' relations with the gods are devoid of any nationalistic orientation. Yet in each case the commission of an offense against the godhead has adversely affected the hero's immediate situation and sense of selfhood to such an extent that a descent into death is required before any resolution is possible, as will be demonstrated below. Or to turn the argument on its tail, it seems to take a traumatic experience to shock the hero into seeking self-awareness, a process to which he might otherwise have been indifferent.

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3. The immediate and ostensible purpose of the undertaking is to obtain from a departed seer the practical information necessary for setting the hero's life back on its proper course. But underlying that quest is the seeking of spiritual knowledge. In the Homeric account, of course, Odysseus does not "know" that there is a spiritual purpose to his harrowing journey. As it turns out, however, Circe had been perfectly capable from the outset of providing him with an itinerary; and Teiresias ends up telling the hero something much more important, something about the hero's character. Likewise, Saul's immediate purpose in consulting Samuel is to discover why God has turned away at a time of imminent military disaster (and presumably to see whether at this late hour God might still be won over in time to avert defeat). But Saul, like Odysseus, ends up learning about his own character and how it contributed to his downfall. 4. The hero must use the aid of a female in order to gain access to the dead seer. 5. However, the woman must first be won over by the hero. Odysseus had to prove himself superior to Circe's magical powers in order to obtain her cooperation. She, like some other significant female figures in the poem (Calypso, Athena, Helen, Penelope), is an awesome dualistic figure whose destructive power can be rendered beneficial by one who knows how. On the other hand, the female figure in I Samuel is not developed at all; we are not even told her name. She is, however, portrayed as initially reluctant to help the disguised Saul for fear of retribution under a ban on occult practices imposed by the king himself (28:9). He prevails upon her by the simple remedy of taking an oath as to his good intentions. In both cases some effort must be made to win this woman over, for the search for self-knowledge is not assumed to be an easy task. 6. The temporal setting is, appropriately enough, nighttime. 7. The sought-after shade in both instances is evoked in a ritual involving the use of a pit or hole that functions as a channel or gateway between this world and the nether regions. In the Odyssey a bothros or pit is dug and filled with the blood of sacrificial animals. The blood attracts the shades and, when drunk, enables them to gain the power of speech (11.20-50). In the biblical account the woman is said to raise spirits by means of her 'ob, a hole or hollow in the ground and the functional equivalent of the Homeric bothros (28:7).6

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8. When the dead seer is raised, he reveals (i) the nature of the religious offense that has resulted in the current crisis, (ii) something about the hero's character (which is viewed as having caused the error), and (iii) the hero's time and manner of death. Teiresias reveals that Poseidon's wrath over the blinding of his son, Polyphemos, is preventing Odysseus' nostos; the hero is also told that he will have to restrain his thumos, his passion, and that of his companions, if he is to achieve his homecoming; and he is told the circumstances under which he will die (11.100-137). Samuel reveals that God is angry over Saul's failure to slay the king and cattle of the Amalekites in defiance of Samuel's prescription. Saul's situation, like that of his Greek counterpart, has been brought about by his own extraordinary wilfulness (the same passion that distinguishes all traditional heroes from ordinary mortals) and by the failure to heed sound advice in the past, another theme common to both tales and traditional in heroic narrative in general. Lastly, Saul is told that he and his sons will die in battle on the following day (28:17-20). It is paradoxical, yet seemingly essential, that the dead seer in each case does not reveal anything new apart from the prophecy of the hero's death. It is not the content so much as the circumstances under which the information is revealed and the source of the information that result in the hero's gaining insight. Odysseus had already been alerted by Polyphemos' prayer to Poseidon (9.528-535) to the offense and the punishment that might ensue. In the flush of victory he had chosen to make light of the warning (9.522-525). Likewise, Saul had been warned in no uncertain terms by Samuel that God had been angered and had rejected Saul because of his wrongful conduct (15:24-35). Saul, likewise swollen with pride over his military successes, had tried to excuse his conduct by arguing that he had been forced to defer to political pressure.7 In both cases the failure to heed sound advice—a traditional theme—occurred precisely because the heroic temperament had been aggravated by the headiness of a successful encounter with an enemy. Since both heroes had rejected this advice on the immediate instance of the offense, it seems that only a visit to the beyond and the voice of a dead seer carry enough authority to make the information meaningful so as to transform the hero. A critical thematic difference must not be overlooked here. Odysseus is told that he must perform certain rites for Poseidon upon returning to Ithaca; the implication of this prescription is that reconciliation with the gods is the means of achieving "the way home." Samuel, however, makes it abundantly clear that Saul has gone beyond the point

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of no return; David has long been anointed as Saul's successor. Saul's self-understanding has come too late as there will be no "way home" except in a very limited sense. In the Greek myth the hero is going to get a second chance while in the Old Testament account he will not. 9. A view of life in the hereafter is given. In fact, in the Homeric poem two contradictory versions are offered.8 The condition of the dead is revealed by implication only in the biblical account. When Samuel complains (28:15) about having been disturbed, the inference can be drawn that the dead rest or sleep in the lower world, a view which is, generally speaking, consonant with the rest of Old Testament tradition on the afterlife.9 10. Both heroes experience fear and panic in the aftermath of their necromantic experience. Odysseus is said to fear that Persephone would unleash some infernal fiend against him (11.623-633). Saul, of course, is understandably devastated upon learning of his imminent doom (28:19). 11. Both heroes are entertained by the awesome females after the consultations. Odysseus and his companions return to Circe's island where they dine on meat, bread, and wine before being sent on their way (12.16-30). Saul and his two escorts are fed unleavened bread and freshly butchered calf (28:21-26). These acts of hospitality are part of a larger theme of fasting and eating as objectifications of departure from the world of the living and return respectively. Saul is said to have fasted for the previous twentyfour hours, although his reasons for having done so are not revealed (28:30). The same motif appears as part of the traditional pattern of the consultation narrative in the mythology and ritual of other cultures.10 So, too, in both stories under consideration here, the theme of hospitality, with particular emphasis on eating, appears to be traditional. 12. The ultimate end of both episodes is the acquisition of selfknowledge and a restoration to life. The insight gained by the Homeric hero into his own character and the need for self-restraint enables him to achieve his nostos literally and spiritually. Indeed much of the dramatic tension of the later books of the Odyssey derives from the hero's slow and deliberate resumption of various social roles—father, king, son, husband, householder, judge, master, and so forth—while simultaneously facing successive and demanding tests of self-restraint. He also demonstrates that he has given

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up an insistence upon absolute self-reliance and self-sufficiency, which had brought disaster upon him earlier in his career. Saul is denied the opportunity of complete restoration, that is, both spiritual and practical. In a very limited formal sense—by fighting in the face of certain death—he regains some sense of respect (by which "success" in practical terms is measured in his world). This limited restoration is symbolized by the bold recovery of his remains by loyal retainers from Jabesh-Gilead (31:11-13).11 Yet, in a context in which spiritual fulfilment is deemed the higher value, he is "successful" in having achieved self-awareness and acceptance of his relationship with God. Spiritual fulfilment in the face of practical disaster imparts that tragic sense to Saul's career and puts him in a heroic tradition more akin to that of Oedipus than of the Homeric heroes. Ill The sequential and thematic parallelism outlined above would seem to preclude mere coincidence as the probable cause of the similarity between the two stories. Some of the parallels, it could be argued, are incidental, dictated primarily by narrative considerations. For example, what more appropriate temporal setting for necromancy than the dead of night? Likewise, the view given of the nature of life in the hereafter may have no other function than to satisfy the audience's natural curiosity about the matter. The hero's panic in the aftermath of the consultation, too, may be described simply because it would seem a natural consequence of a harrowing experience. Even the great Odysseus could hardly have been expected to act blasé after a mind-boggling encounter of that sort. These elements aside, within the narrative framework of a journey into death there is a complex of motifs peculiar to both stories that seems to reflect a shared archetypal meaning. This complex is comprised of the awesome female figure or initiator who helps the hero contact a formidable male seer who, it would appear, serves as the hero's alter ego and instrument of introspection. While no one would argue that the Woman of Endor is as profound or developed a mythological figure as is Circe, a goddess in her own right, the biblical figure is clearly a rationalized expression of the same folkloric and mythological type—the simultaneously dangerous and benign supernatural female whose potential for helpfulness can be bent to the hero's advantage. Moreover, like Circe, the Woman of Endor has the primary narrative function of directing the hero to an ultimately

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more helpful figure, the male seer who can answer the unasked but fundamentally more vital inquiry about the nature of the hero's self. The seer Teiresias is by no means Odysseus' literal alter ego.12 On a symbolic level, however, he is, for both characters are thematically linked by the motif of blindness. Teiresias is, of course, quite literally blind. His affliction is accounted for variously in Greek tradition, but it is often ascribed to divine punishment for some offense that the seer had committed against a god (as was also the case with his Argonautic counterpart, Phineus).13 Likewise, Odysseus' critical blunder had been the blinding of Poseidon's son Polyphemos, an act punished by the interruption of the hero's nostos. Finally, the hero himself is depicted as metaphorically blind at two critical stages of the homeward journey when he falls asleep and allows disaster to overtake him unawares. In the first instance his companions take advantage of their leader's nap to release winds from Aiolos' gift bag (10.31-55). Worse yet, while the hero is again deep in sleep (12.335-365), they slaughter and eat the sacred cattle of Helios, an act which from the very outset of the poem is singled out as the major stumbling block on "the way home" (1.6-9). Ironically, then, Teiresias, the mortal literally blind, acts as alter ego to the hero who is physically sighted but spiritually blind. And the journey into death and the quest for self-knowledge turn out to have been an inner journey in which the hero finds out for himself what he might have known all along had he not been suffering from a deluded and inflated sense of self-sufficiency. Samuel, in contrast to Teiresias, is manifestly the alter ego of the hero. From the moment when the prophet anoints Saul as king of the Israelites (9:15, 10:1), the careers of the two are indissolubly linked, with the prophet acting as the king's advisor, conscience, and finally repudiator. If this were not sufficient evidence of the relationship, one additional piece of information from Samuel's biography secures his place as Saul's alter ego. Hannah is said to have named her son Samuel because she had "asked the Lord for him" (1:20). This etymology, however, corresponds not to Samuel's name (shemu' el, "his name is El"), but to Saul's (sha' ul, "that which has been asked for"). The reasons for this transfer of etymology are unknown; but given the significance of name-symbolism in the Old Testament—the firm belief that what you are named indicates who you are—and given the apparent acceptance by Old Testament tradition of the transferred etymology, it would seem that by the time of the writing of I Samuel the figures of king and prophet may have been unconsciously perceived as aspects of a single identity.

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Each seer, then, as alter ego of the hero (or conscience, to use another term) is the figure within the tale most suited to serve as an instrument of introspection, to bring the hero to the discovery of the self by being a mirror, as it were, that reflects knowledge already revealed to the hero but hitherto not accepted by him until the final moment of insight in the land of the dead. A Near Eastern parallel to this thematic complex is to be found in the Gilgamesh epic. In tablet 10 of the Akkadian version the hero, like Saul and Odysseus, is in a situational as well as spiritual crisis. His beloved companion Enkidu has died (the result of divine punishment for the hero's rejection of the goddess Ishtar). Seeking to relieve his despair, the hero sets out to acquire the gift of immortality. After harrowing encounters with scorpion-people and the like, he finally comes upon Siduri, the divine alewife, an awesome female who, like Circe and the Woman of Endor, inhabits a magical locus surrounded by her magical implementa.14 She initially refuses to deal with the hero, but she is eventually won over. Out of an almost maternal solicitude she at first tries to dissuade him from his quest but finally agrees to direct him to Utnapishtim, a male seer, who, like Samuel and Teiresias, is alone privy to information that will allow the hero to achieve some sense of self-awareness which is the sine qua non of a fully realized existence on earth. Like the other two heroes, Gilgamesh comes to learn that he cannot be autonomous and self-reliant in all things, that he must accept the limitations of the human condition and of his own nature. He then returns to the city of Uruk resigned to his lot. Another parallel is to be found in classical culture but in this instance from a self-conscious, highly intellectualized literary tradition, that of Vergil's Aeneid. Perhaps without understanding it, from the sheer authority of tradition, Vergil assimilates most of the thematic complex under examination with the exception of the offense against the divine, an act of which pius Aeneas would seem incapable. In Book 6 Aeneas has lost confidence in himself and his ability to keep shouldering the task of founding the Roman race. He must descend into the underworld to obtain some notion of the meaning of his destiny, which hitherto he has understood only in abstract terms. To do so, he must win over and use a female figure, the Sibyl, to gain access to the underworld and ultimately to a male seer, in this case his own father. Again, like Teiresias and Samuel, Anchises is not only a prophet but in a very real sense the hero's alter ego, his source of companionship and inspiration throughout the first half of the poem. Again, aside from the long discourse on metempsychosis (which is an intellectual justification

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of the idea that Augustus is Aeneas reborn), and aside from the necessary historical element, the information given Aeneas is not substantially different from what he had been told over and over again. But he had not been willing to accept his role in history and its tragic personal consequences until he heard the advice from his alter ego within the context of a harrowing journey into the beyond; once again, it is not the content of the information that is different but the context in which it is revealed that makes the information meaningful to the hero in his quest for self-knowledge. A significant difference in meaning between the Old Testament story, on the one hand, and the classical and Near Eastern, on the other, is that, from a modern perspective, the latter are essentially optimistic in outlook. The heroes are enabled, indeed expected, to apply their newly acquired self-knowledge to the business of living. The ultimate prize besides the discovery of the self is restoration and the chance to live a meaningful life. Saul's fate, however, takes meaning primarily as a confirmation of God's absolute power and will. Hence the biblical account is retrospective rather than prospective in outlook. It is also tragic in that it shows a hero completely undone by his own passion in spite of the spiritual gain which has been achieved by him. IV Finally, it is by no means clear or even necessary that ancient audiences would have agreed with us that these consultation episodes carry the meanings discussed above. Some Hellenistic Greeks, certainly, in their failure to comprehend the thematic significance of the nekyia, urged that the episode be athetized. The Endor episode, too, is a narrative anomaly in I Samuel, and the ancient Jews had rationalized the underlying myth so as to invest it with a narrowly theological significance. In a recapitulation of Saul's career, for example, the Chronicler cites the episode only to demonstrate that Saul was, in the final analysis, an impious wretch who had it coming (I Chron. 10:13-14). Josephus' appreciation of the story was limited to viewing the Woman of Endor as paradigmatic of a proper sense of charity and to eulogizing her through a highly embellished account, in which she is depicted as straining her limited means to entertain the king liberally (A J 6.340-342). This lack of insight into the meaning of the consultation theme by ancient Jewish audiences is understandable for two related reasons, the traditional aversion to occultism, 15 and the general difficulty that biblical tradition had in dealing with heroes. Relative to that of the

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Greeks, Old Testament mythology has few bona fide traditional heroes; and these are found primarily in the cycle of stories about King David and in Judges. Certain historical circumstances had combined to reduce the importance of such heroes in Jewish lore, not the least of which was a strict monotheism, which understandably discouraged the idea of exalting humans who occupied an ambiguous position on the boundary between human and divine. A deeply felt sense of nationhood, too, was likely to have frowned upon the rampant individualism that characterizes the heroes of tradition. Furthermore, the historic power struggle between kings and prophets (the latter being viewed quite literally as the voice of God), a central theme of the books of Samuel and Chronicles, was resolved by the ascendancy of the prophetic element. As a result, subsequent literature looked back upon the heroic age with a jaundiced view of heroes and limited appreciation of traditional heroic narrative elements, including encounters with the occult. Symptomatic of this suppressive bias is the unsuccessful attempt to make a Heraklean figure like Samson into a Judge, even though his judicial competence and inclinations, even in the special biblical sense of the term, are questionable at best. It will be recalled, too, that Samson never defines himself as a Judge but as a warrior. Perhaps because of factors such as these the existential meaning of the consultation theme of I Samuel 28 was obscured in favor of a simplistic theological moral. For different reasons, which can only be guessed at, the same obscuring took place in Greek tradition. The narrative discontinuities within the episode and the "wild goose chase" aspect of the episode as a whole, introduced as it was by the unfulfilled promise of an itinerary for "the way home," may have been sufficiently distracting to have obscured the underlying meaning of the nekyia. V The two expressions of the consultation motif described and discussed in detail above are not directly derivative of each other. Nor can their thematic and narrative resemblances be ascribed to mere coincidence. The encounter with the dead in both tales serves rather as an extended and elaborate metaphor of mediation between mortal and god in the human quest for self-knowledge. The forms of expression vary in a manner compatible with the values and outlooks of the different cultures that gave rise to these tales. A comparative analysis makes it possible for modern audiences to become attuned to a meaning obscured through time and lost to the ancient transmitters of the traditions in question.

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The basic meaning of the thematic complex described here can be paraphrased as follows: Everyone (in the person of the hero) may believe that he or she is self-sufficient and autonomous, particularly in the wake of some outstanding success. Given the limits of individual character and of the human condition, this is not the case. Mortals must recognize that there are higher forces in the world by comparison with which humans are as nothing. It takes some devastating experience to shock mortals out of their sense of complacency and make them seek inner knowledge. The instrument of mediation in this process is an encounter with the dead. One gains access to the beyond through an awesome female who points out the way. The hero then encounters a male seer who turns out to be thé hero himself. The seer reveals with unquestionable authority what the hero ought to have recognized all along but had ignored or suppressed out of a false sense of autonomy. Failure to achieve this recognition spells disaster; willingness to do so makes possible redemption. University of Oregon NOTES 1. Among the more glaring are the two different versions of life in Hades; Odysseus' ignorance of the death of Elpenor, which had been described in the previous book; and the fact that the hero's mother gives a misleading picture of the situation back home on Ithaca, even though the shades should presumably have unerring knowledge. 2. On the pattern, see, for example, J. De Vries, Heroic Song and Heroic Legend (1963) 210226. 3. D. Frame, The Myth of Return in Early Greek Epic (New Haven 1978). 4. One Homeric scholar argues that the entire poem revolves around the discovery of the self: "In a way the whole problem of the Odyssey is for Odysseus to establish his identity." G. Dimock, "The Name of Odysseus," in C. H. Taylor (ed.), Essays on the Odyssey (Bloomington 1965) 54. 5. Frame (supra n. 3) 38-80. 6. On the parallels between the Homeric bothros and Hebrew 'Ob, see M. Vieyra, "Les noms du 'mundus' en hittite et en assyrien et la pythonisse d'Endor," Revue hittite et asianique 69 (1961) 47-55; cf. H. A. Hoffner, Jr., "Second Millennium Antecedents to the Hebrew 'OB," Journal of Biblical Literature 86 (1967) 385-401. In the Gilgamesh epic, tablet 12, the hero raises the ghost of Enkidu from the underworld through a hole made for him by the gods. This hole is called, in the Sumerian, ab, a word that has been shown to be cognate with the Hebrew ob. See C. J. Gadd, Ideas of Divine Rule in the Ancient Near East (London 1948) 88-89. It would thus appear that raising the dead through a hole in the ground, whether natural or made for the occasion, is a traditional element of the narrative pattern of the consultation episode in ancient Near Eastern as well as western Mediterranean cultures. 7. In 15:23 there may be foreshadowing of the consultation episode in the comparison made between defiance of God and witchcraft as types of sin. 8. Until lines 568ff Book 11 follows the narrative pattern of the consultation episode proper. Suddenly the scene changes to that of a katabasis narrative along the lines of Aeneid 6 wherein the hero actually descends into Hell. Both types of narrative, however, share the notion that access to the nether realms is gained through a pit or hole. The bothros of the nekyia is elsewhere called the

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mundus, in Latin. See J. Puhvel, "The Origins of Greek KOSMOS and Latin MUNDUS," AJP 97 (1976) 154-167. 9. A Heidel, The Gilgamesh Epic and Old Testament Parallels (Chicago 1963) 200-201. 10. See, for example, the comments of the Sioux wise man, Black Elk, in "Hanblecheyapi: Crying for a Vision," in D. and B. Tedlock (edd.), Teachings from the American Earth: Indian Religion and Philosophy (New York 1975) 34. 11. By delivering Jabesh-Gilead from the hands of the Ammonites in his first military undertaking, Saul had attained the public recognition that led to his coronation (I Samuel 11); hence it is narratively satisfying that men from that town should deliver his remains from the Philistines and hence bring the circle of his career to an honorable close. 12. For an interpretation of Teiresias' relationship with Odysseus, see M. Nagler, "Entretiens avec Tiresias" (forthcoming, CW) 8. 13. Callimachus, Lav. Pall. 57ff; cf. Hyginus, Fab. 75 and Ovid, Metam. 336-338. 14. For a comparison of Siduri and Circe, see M. Nagler, "Dread Goddess Endowed with Speech," Archeological News 6 (1977) 77-85. 15. Occult practices were viewed as violations of the absolute claim of God to guide mortals, as set forth in Deut. 18:11. Cf. Isa. 8:19, which criticizes continued faith in occultism in spite of the injunctions against it.

ANDREW R. DYCK

On the Composition and Sources of Cicero De officiis 1.50-58

It is of more than a little interest to know how Panaetius ranked service to the state among man's societal duties. In his recent monograph on the textual criticism of De officiis, K.B. Thomas argues that friendship and kinship occupied the pinnacle of Panaetius' hierarchy of societies and that it is by an auTOCT%e8iaa|ia of Cicero's that the state shares the primacy with friends and relatives in o f f . 1.58.1 A decision on the Panaetian status of the patria in o f f . 1.57-58 must be based on a careful analysis of the train of thought of this entire section of off (1.50-58). Of the four parts of the honestum discussed in o f f . 1, the second is divided into two subspecies: iustitia and beneficentia. Since beneficentia demands a choice, four criteria are established ( o f f 1.45): (i) mores, (ii) animus erga nos, (iii) communitas ac societas vitae, (iv) ad nostras ultilitates officia ante collata. After discussing (i) in §46 and (ii) and (iv) in §§47-49, at §50 the discussion turns to the third criterion. Cicero begins by stating the principle that the societas hominum coniunctioque will be best preserved if benefits will be conferred in proportion ut quisque erit coniunctissimus.2 Then a digression3 is announced on quae naturae principia sint communitatis et societatis humanae. This digression occupies §§50-52 (est enim primum quod cernitur . . .) and establishes a naturalis quaedam societas in which all men, as users of reason, are included (cf. o f f . 1.12).'' As one would expect in a treatise placing emphasis on praecepta, quibus in omnes partes usus vitae conformari possit ( o f f . 1.7), the section concludes with practical guidelines (vulgaris liberalitas referenda est ad ilium Ennii finem 'nihilominus ipsi lucet' 77

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. . .: off 1.52). In §53 who is coniunctissimus is set forth in a businesslike way: . . . propior est eiusdem gentis, nationis, linguae . . . interim etiam est eiusdem esse civitatis . . . ardor vero colligatio est societatis propinquorum; ab ilia enim inmensa societate humani generis in exiguum angustumque concluditur.5 It is natural for the reader of these words to assume that he has now reached the xiXoc, of the discussion of communitas ac societas vitae, occupying §§50-53 ( = A infra). However, without any explanation, Cicero now launches into a new discussion of societies, which occupies §§54-58 ( = B infra). 6 Though in B Cicero uses some terms similar to those in A, the difference in approach is unmistakable. When in §54 he speaks of prima societas, he uses this expression in a different sense from naturae principia and primum of §50; in §54 we have, not a systematic presentation of societies from general to specific, as in §§50-53, but rather a genetic analysis that derives the state from the family. There follows a laudation of several different types of societies in turn: (i) blood kinship (54-55: sanguinis autem coniunctio . . .); (ii) friendship of two types, based respectively on the honestum (55-56: sed omnium societatum . . .) and the utile (56: magna etiam ilia communitas est. . .); (iii) the patria (57). Finally, §58 systematizes the relationships of the various societies by determining quibus plurimum tribuendum sit officii. Although this is really the same problem as that announced in §50 (ut quisque erit coniunctissimus, ita in eum benignitatis plurimum conferetur), the approach and the results are now different. The criterion is no longer the simple scheme of who is coniunctissimus set forth in §§50-53; rather in §58 the criteria are the concepts of obligatio {quorum beneficiis maximis obligati sumus; cf. necessaria praesidia vitae debentur his maxime . . .) and dependency (. . . liberi totaque domus, quae spectat in nos solos neque aliud ullum potest habere peifugium); and the conclusion is, not that the propinqui hold undisputed primacy, but rather that the greatest claim on our officio is held by patria et parentes. In addition, in this section all three grades of relatives {parentes, liberi totaque domus, bene convenientes propinqui) are distinguished, a distinction not drawn in §53. Thus, the problem with our passage is that it falls into two contiguous sections, A and B, each of which offers a different approach to the topic of communitas ac societas vitae and in neither of which does Cicero betray any awareness of the presence of the other. 7 Thomas observes that the patria does not fit the terms in which the problem is first announced (ut quisque erit coniunctissimus: 50) and accordingly proposes to eliminate the patria from the Panaetian scheme. The observation is correct, but the problem goes still deeper. It really

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begins in §54 with the discussion of that which is common to all living things, after the digression started at §50 on the basis of a distinction between man and animals. Furthermore, the concept of the patria cannot be removed from this passage merely by excising it from §§57-58, for it has been introduced already in §54, where it is brought into relationship to the family (twice, for emphasis): id (i.e., the family) autem est principium urbis et quasi seminarium rei publicae; quae propagatio et suboles origo est rerum publicarum. Following this is the statement sanguinis autem coniunctio et benevolentia devincit homines i

n

1 -H IO P ) ^ ^ rf

-

s

«

O vO

T

m

00 ç reads dulcedinem enim ipsam sensu percipimus at PH 1.20. Regarding the PH 2.72 passage, Estienne translates: at vero sensus externa quidem subjecta non comprehendunt, sed solas forte suas passiones. I suggest that it is this understanding of sensus as passiones which has prejudiced readers of Lucretius. 57. Cf. Fleischmann, "Lucretius Carus" (supra n. 44) 352-355. 58. Lambinus cites the Académica frequently; see for example pp. 309-311 of his commentary (Paris 1963) and this instance: "Haec autem omnia disputantur, et dicuntur adversus novos Académicos quorum fuit princeps Arcesilas " (p. 310, spellings modernized). 59. Lambinus 291. 60. For example, Lambinus writes: Volebat enim Epicurus sensus esse certos, ac veros: qua de re lege M. Tullium in Lucullo . . . (301). Consider also this reference to Plutarch: eo loco, ubi disputât adversus sensus, ostendens eos non semper esse veros, aut veri nuncios, ait rei quidem quae sub aqua est, imaginem, a qua imagine visus afficitur, atque (ut ita dicam) patitur, esse fractum etiam, remum autem ex quofluit imago, non esse fractum. xò ye elSooXov 0Tv, PaaiXeix; Tanuycov *Clmq T|KCDV xoiq ITeuKexioK; a t > F 4 I A % o q . . . o i 8£ auxtp Kei|i£vcp ¿(peaxriKoxeg 6 f|pcoq Tdpaq ¿orxi Kai O d X . a v 0 o q 6 ¿k 96 AaKeSaijiovoq... . ("There are images of both infantry and holsemen, and of Opis, the king of the Iapygians, who joined the Peuketians as an ally. . . . The figures standing over his prostrate body are the hero Taras, and Phalanthos who came from Lakedaimon.") The dolphin "not far" from Phalanthos has been claimed for either hero; it indicated at least the ties of founder and city with Poseidon.97 It is probable that one hero was bearded, the other unbearded. Such a device for identifying a pair of men as distinct personalities was common, as Paribeni has shown.98 A conical hat like that worn by a bearded terracotta male reclining

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on a ketos (cf. Plate 2:4)" figures prominently in the surviving accounts of the stasis in Lakonia that prompted the migration of some of the Partheniai to Italy. The headgear was to be used by Phalanthos to signal for an attack by his fellow conspirators. According to Ephoros, oi (TuviCTidfievoi (J.ET& xcbv eiXc&xcov ¿TtePouXeucav xoTq AaKsScunovioiq Kai CTUV^GEVTO Spai auacrr|N.ov ¿v xfj &yopp TUA.OV AOKCOVIKOV tneibhv ¿y/eipaxji... .10° ("Joining forces with helots they plotted against the Lakedaimonians. They agreed, therefore, upon the Lakonian pilos as the signal in the agora for the moment when they would attack.") Antiochos set the event at Amyklai during a festival of Hyakinthos where, following the games, Phalanthos was to put on a kyne to coordinate the uprising.101 In Diodoros' version the ringleader was to pull the kyne low over his forehead. 102 A kyne might be made of any animal hide; it was appropriately worn by rustics, workmen, fishermen, helmsmen and the like.103 A pilos was a felt cap also worn by workmen and travelers for warmth, but the two terms could be used interchangeably.104 Again, the detail of the use of the cap as a signal in the legend may have entered the narrative by way of depictions of Phalanthos as the seafaring oikistes of Taras. An Attic relief of ca. 420-400 shows Theseus touching his pilos with one hand. 105 The motif is common enough to appear on an Attic lekythos by the Aristandros Sculptor in the early fourth century106 and in a terracotta relief found at Olynthos.107 At any rate, the pilos was by no means exclusively distinctive of the Dioskouroi in Tarentine or mainland Greek art. We may note Pausanias' uncertainty when at Brasiai, not far from Tainaron, he found together with an Athena, three little bronze males, each capped with a pilos: OCK 018a ei Aioarcoupouq rnpaq f| KoptiPavxaq vopi^oum... ,108 ("I am not sure whether they are supposed to be Dioskouroi or Korybantes.") H. Geagan has suggested the name of Phalanthos as a plausible restoration for a depinto, - A A N 0 O E , of a sixth-century plaque from a shrine of Poseidon at Pentaskouphi near Corinth.109 The seven fragments that she has joined show two ends of a manned ship. Shields line the bulwark and spears are stacked in the stern near what may be a lighted torch. A helmsman and a figure standing at the prow are partially preserved. A Triton, chest covered by scales, swims in the water below the bow110 (Plate 1:3). Dipinti on other fragments identify Poseidon as the chief deity to whom the plaques were dedicated. 111 The names of Amphitrite and Athena are attested, and the goddesses may be recognized in other female figures.112 The males are bearded or unbearded.

The Reclining Heroes of Taras and Their Cult

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Many hold attributes typical of Poseidon: trident, spear, fish or dolphin(?). They may wear short garments, long ceremonial attire, or armor. There are horsemen and figures riding in carts in procession.113 Geagan has suggested that elements of a "Dionysiac" festival may appear in the scenes of dancing and drinking.114 Among the animals and exotic beasts on which the Tarentine terracotta heroes recline is a Triton.115 Other creatures, the snake, goat, bull, goose or swan, mule and horse, centaur, Skylla, are all forms that can be assumed by daimones, powerful beings, identified with Poseidon and Dionysos.116 Sea creatures also figure among the attributes given Taras or Phalanthos in the coinage of their city.117 The coins and terracottas share the drinking cups, the agonistic horsemen and warriors.118 Horace and Silius Italicus called Tarentum "Phalanteum." 119 Stephanos of Byzantium noted that in poetic usage Tarantinoi might be alluded to as Phalantiadai (tub xcov Siacrr|(XOTdi(ov nap' carccov'20 (". . . named for the most distinguished figures in their communities"). Monuments associated with the terracotta Banqueters at Taras would have been conspicuous, especially to seafarers, though no architectural remains can now be connected with the deposits.121 As Lenormant had predicted, the most abundant finds occurred along the shore of the Mare Piccolo at the north of the city. He had plotted the findspots from the area of destruction wrought by the canal of Ferdinand of Aragon, eastward through the edge of the nineteenth-century Borgo Nuovo and the property of Anna Giovinazzi to the Arsenal.122 Sections of the northern wall were found in the 1880s and again in 1896.123 Extensive military construction took place in Hannibalic times as well as in the modern era.124 Discoveries of terracotta Banqueters after 1881 have fallen largely within the same zone. In antiquity it was an anchorage and a point of embarkation for fishermen and travelers, as it is today for the crews of the Italian fleet.125 Scattered examples, including moulds and one sizable deposit of figurines, have turned up inside the city as far south as the Chiesa S. Francesco da Paola and the Via Dante, near where may have stood coroplasts' shops.126 One entrance into the city from the port on the Mare Piccolo led through the so-called Fondo Giovinazzi where the Banqueters were found by the tens of thousands. The gate from the waterfront is probably to be associated with a flight of steps found in 1900, which were oriented approximately to the modern Via Cavalotti.127 Lo Porto has postulated that the lower city of classical times was laid out in an orthogonal pattern. 128 The route along the Via Cavalotti would in that case have intersected at right angles each of three streets leading westward to

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the agora. East and south of these intersections, where further Banqueters have been found, lay the inner margin of the necropolis, 129 an area suitable for heroa as well as for the shops of coroplasts. 130 Seaport shrines of Poseidon, often with a mythical mate and hero son, are well attested for coastal towns and cities around the Peloponnese. 131 Though many of the monuments described by Pausanias at Corinth were erected in Roman times, archaic heroa stood in or near the agora and in the potters' quarters. 132 Votive terracottas from such sites are close in iconographic repertory to the Tarentine Banqueters: there are horses and horsemen, banqueters, stelai capped by helmets and bearing snakes in relief on the face, and females. 133 Evidence within the shrines for actual tables of offerings, stelai and sacrificial burning has likewise been found. 134 A fragmentary, archaic terracotta dolphin found at Corinth may have come from an akroterion. It has been compared to an antefix from Kaulonia depicting a dolphin and "Melikertes." 135 The vast numbers of terracotta reclining heroes recovered near the Mare Piccolo become less astonishing if they are considered in terms of a venerable cult and the long life of Taras as a major landfall on the sea route between the eastern and western Mediterranean. By analogy with practice at Cape Tainaron, voyagers surely dedicated gifts upon their arrival or departure at the port of Taras. The iconography of the terracottas indicates that some may have been designed for ritual use during festivals, as well. By the time of Arion and Periander of Corinth, poets may have traveled to Taras for musical competitions. Other contests would have included feats of horsemanship appropriate to Poseidon and a hero transplanted from the Peloponnese. 136 Stazio has suggested that the street running along the Mare Piccolo was named Soteira, for Poseidon. 137 This, or one of the broad east-west avenues opening into the agora, could have served as a dromos.138 The banquet table of offerings, the ornate garland, and the libation were the equipment of the solemnization of the feast. There is possible evidence that the Banqueters were not the only early votive offerings to the hero. Among the miniature kouroi found in the lowest strata of another deposit of archaic and classical figurines at the Punto Pizzone, further east by the Mare Piccolo, was a standing male wearing a high pointed cap. 139 Herdejiirgen has dated a terracotta of the same type in Basel to ca. 550 B.C.140 The latter, slightly larger, should be the earlier of the two. 141 It may antedate the Banqueter of Bonn and Malibu by very little. The torso, head, and the shape and placement of the eyes near the temples resemble features of the first phase of the mould in Malibu. The cap, surely a pilos or kyne, makes Phalanthos one of the candidates for the figure represented.

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If the depinto of the plaque fragments from Pentaskouphi does, in fact, preserve Phalanthos' name, then his identity as a seagoing warrior in human form, perhaps as the oikistes of Taras, had been fixed by the first half of the sixth century. His association with Poseidon and his older identity was, however, maintained by the presence on the plaque of his swimming companion, the Triton. In Taras the origins of cult and of the Peloponnesian colonists themselves were so remote by the late fifth century that Antiochos could record only ¿K xcbv dpxaicov X6ycov xh maxdxam Kai aacp^crxaxa.142 One of the two Tarentine hero cults, whether of Phalanthos or Taras is uncertain, underwent some kind of change, represented by the appearance of the votive reclining figures, ca. 550-525 B.C. By the end of the century the two heroes were closely associated, if not honored in conjunction, hence the alternation of heads, bearded or unbearded, in the terracottas in this period, and the victory they shared over the Peuketians at Delphi in the fifth century. Neutsch and Herdejiirgen have noted the rich elaboration in types during the fifth and fourth centuries, reflecting the city's increased affluence and importance.143 The development of the cult of the two heroes and their festival(s) probably can be traced to some extent by means of the terracottas and the coinage.144 Taras has not been found outside of Italy. The classical study of Phalanthos is still that of Studniczka, published in 1890.145 The names of both heroes are those of geographical features, pre-Greek place names like that of Athena.146 Taras was the town and a river nearby.147 Perhaps, as suggested by Studniczka, he was the dyXa6v 68cop of an oracle preserved in Diodoros.148 Phalanthos in Arkadia was a mountain and a village, deserted by Pausanias' day, north of Trikoloni. 149 A pattern of similar names and thematic elements emerges from the scattered bits of legend in which a Phalanthos figures. The eponymous, Arkadian Phalanthos was a son of Hagelaos, a grandson of Stymphalos and a great-grandson of Poseidon, father of Tarentine Taras and Phalanthos.150 Studniczka speculated that the Phoenician ancestry of a Rhodian Phalanthos may have been due to a borrowing from the Thebaid of Statius in which a Phalanthos from Tanagra was a follower of Kadmos.151 Phoinikes is, however, attested as a priesthood of Poseidon.152 An epichoric nymph or Satyra was the mother or wife of Taras.153 Aithra, the spouse of Phalanthos at Satyrion, was also known as wife of Aigeus, another son and alternate form of Poseidon.154 On Rhodes, once known as Aithraia, Phalanthos ruled a city, Achaia, before he was overthrown by Iphiklos and his Cretan followers.155 Animals appeared to fulfill oracles and to demoralize or guide Phalanthos: birds, fish swimming in wine cups, a goat.156 The Rhodian hero

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was betrayed by a servant, Larkas, or by a Phakas and a daughter, Dorkia. He was expelled in an oarless ship after negotiations conducted through a herald saved him from being killed outright. 157 A herald prevented the revolt of Phalanthos and the Partheniai at Amyklai in Lakonia. The plot had been betrayed to the ephors by one of the helots, or by Phalanthos himself. After a parley, those of the conspirators who had not run away escaped death "because of their fathers." The Oracle was consulted. Forbidden to settle between Corinth and Sicyon, the Partheniai were sent to Italy, though they might return to claim land in Messenia if their expedition failed. An oracle sent Phalanthos from Satyrion to Taras, whence he was also later expelled for dissidence. His ashes were removed from Brentesion. Returned to Taras, they secured the city for the Partheniai forever. 158 Pausanias once called Phalanthos a Spartiate, elsewhere "the one from Lakedaimon." 159 For Probus and Servius he was an eighth-generation descendant of Herakles who had augmented the city founded by Taras. 160 The consistency with which the hero and the Tarentine settlers were otherwise associated in legend with old, non-Dorian elements was in itself suspicious to Berard. 161 Amyklai was the principal town in Lakonia to resist Spartan dominance for a time. 162 Helots were involved in the conspiracy of the Partheniai. The sanctuary of Poseidon at Cape Tainaron was a refuge for such people in historic times. 163 There exists, however, argument ex silentio that Sparta had no part in a cult of Phalanthos. The hero is not mentioned in the extant work of Tyrtaios. Pausanias, usually prompted by visual stimuli to identify and to explain what he saw, did not mention Phalanthos in connection with his visit to Sparta. He noted no monument to Phalanthos in the town, though the Spartans had cultivated and set up shrines to other heroes, such as Lelex and Orestes, belonging presumably to older peoples. 164 Nor did Phalanthos' name occur to Pausanias in front of the colonists' dedication at Sparta to Poseidon of Tainaron. It was an eponymous Tainaros who was honored with a mnema at the Spartan temenos of Poseidon Hippokourios. 165 Phalanthos has the earmarks of an old, local deity, a heto-daimon whose aboriginal nature may have been that of the ocpiv (pt|oaq ¿tu Taivdpco xpatpfivai 8eiv6v, K^r|9f|vcn 8k "Ai8ou Kuva (". . . awful serpent that people say was reared at Tainaron and was called the hound of Hades"), of Silenos of Malea and Pyrrhichos, of the guardians of springs, or of lakes where fishermen might be turned into fish. 166 Of these daimones of death, who came to be identified with Poseidon and Dionysos before emerging as distinct and anthropomorphized personali-

Plate 1

1. Cast and mould, reclining hero with rhyton, J. P. Getty Museum inv. 75.AD.43.

3. Sketch, fragments of clay plaque from Pentaskouphi. (By courtesy of Helen Geagan.)

5. Reclining hero with phiale, University Museum, Philadelphia, inv. MS 1977. (Photo, Michael Keene.)

Kingsley

2. Detail of cast, fig. 1.

4. Fragment, hero with Chelys reclining on a ketos. (Inv. 20.221, T h e Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1920.)

6. Centaur bearing reclining hero. (Inv. 20.219, T h e Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1920.)

Kingsley

Plate 2

1. Head of youth, University Museum. Philadelphia, inv. MS 1965. (Photo. Michael Keene.) 2. Head of bearded male, University Museum. Philadelphia, inv. MS 1953. (Photo, Michael Keene.)

3. Head of beared male, University Museum, Philadelphia, inv. MS 1858. (Photo, Michael Keene.) 4. Head of youth, University Museum, Philadelphia, inv. MS 1919. (Photo, Michael Keene.) 5. Helmeted youth, University Museum, Philadelphia, inv. MS 1908. (Photo, Michael Keene.)

6. Fragment, hero and horse, University Museum, Philadelphia, inv. MS 1940. (Photo, Michael Keene.) 7. Helmeted youth with shield, University Museum, Philadelphia, inv. MS 1910. (Photo, Michael Keene.) 8. Horseman wearing shield and garland. (Inv. 10.210.56, T h e Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1910.)

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ties, Fontenrose has observed, "A mythical figure can change and proliferate and still remain true to the original conception." 167 The reclining terracotta heroes of Taras, with their funerary and festive trappings, their exotic beasts, race horses and armor, illustrate the point. Though the nature of the heroes and even the function of their cult may have expanded and altered over the centuries, their primary character is preserved in the heretofore puzzling detail of the votive figurines. 168 University of California Santa Cruz NOTES I am indebted to Ronald Stroud, J. K. Anderson, and D. A. Amyx, who guided the dissertation written at the University of California, Berkeley, from which the present study has been taken. I am grateful for the helpful suggestions and comments of those who have read the typescript: to Raphael Sealey, Joseph Fontenrose, J. K. Anderson, Dorothy Burr Thompson, Charles K. Williams II, Helen Geagan, and Reinhard Lullies. Permission to study and to publish the terracottas in Malibu, Philadelphia, and New York was courteously granted by J. Frei and the J. Paul Getty Museum; by G. Roger Edwards and the University Museum, University of Pennsylvania; and by D. von Bothmer and his associate, Joan Mertens, of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Rita Kingsley assisted me in my research at the museums. 1. Lenormant, "Notes archéologiques sur Tarente," GazArch 1 (1881-1882) 161; idem, "Les terres-cuites de Tarente," GBA 25 (1882) 202-205; Wolters, "Götter oder Heroen?" Festschrift P. Arndt (Bonn 1925) 10, 135 n. 6 (hereafter cited as Festschrift Arndt). 2. Viola, "Taranto," NSc 9 (1881) 331, 408, 519 and map, pl. 5; Evans, "Recent Discoveries of Tarentine terra-cottas," JHS 1 (1886) 8 and map, p. 4; P. Wuilleumier, Tarente dès ses origines à la conquête Romaine (Paris 1939) (hereafter cited as Tarente) 399 and n. 2 (map, back fold-out). 3. Many of the finds are unpublished and the sites only vaguely reported. For clear expositions of the topography see Degrassi, "Taranto," EAA 7 (1966) 603-609; Lo Porto, "Topografia antica di Taranto," Atti 10 ConvSMG (1970) 343-382, pis. 61, 63. 4. C. Lett a, Piccola Coroplastica Metapontina nel Museo Archeologico Provinciale di Potenza (Naples 1971) (hereafter cited as Letta) 57-110, types Xa, Xb and XIa (cf. IX), pis. 7, 3-4; 8-21, 1. For the sites, pp. 11-14. 5. Lo Porto, "Ricerche archeologiche in Heraclea di Lucania," BdA 46 (1961) 136-137, figs. 7-9; Neutsch et al., Archäologische Studien und Bodensondierungen bei Policoro in den Jahren 1959-1964, RömMitt Suppl. 11 (1967) (hereafter cited as Herakleiastudien) 163-172. 6. Cf. Neutsch, "Der Heros auf der Kline," RömMitt 68 (1961) (hereafter cited as Neutsch) 150-163; H. Herdejürgen, Die tarentinischen Terrakotten des 6. bis 4. Jahrhunderts v. Chr. im Antiken Museum Basel (Mainz 1971) (hereafter cited as Herdejürgen) 26-33; Letta (supra n. 4) 61-73. See also G. Gianelli, Culti e miti della Magna Grecia2 (Florence 1968) (hereafter cited as Gianelli) 33-35; Tarente (supra n. 2) 399-404. 7. Wolters, "Tarentiner Terrakotten," AZ 40 (1882) 288, no. 5; D. Pinkwart, Antiken aus dem Akademischen Kunstmuseum Bonn (1969) 58-60; Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 2; Noelke, in E. Langlotz (ed.), Antiken aus Privatbesitz (Cologne 1973) (hereafter cited as Noelke) 271-272, pl. 193, no. 429. Note, however, dates given by Mollard-Besques, Musée du Louvre, Catalogue raisonné des figurines et reliefs en terres-cuites grecs, étrusques et romains I (Paris 1954) (hereafter cited as Mollard-Besques) 61-62, for nos. B 401-407.

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Kingsley

8. Herdejürgen (supra n. 6). 9. Collection, Prof. Robert Purrman: Noelke (supra n. 7) 271-272, pi. 193, no. 429. 10. B. Kingsley, Terracottas of the Tarantine Greeks (Malibu 1976) 4, no. 2, pi. 2, inv. 75.AD.43. 11. The terminology conforms to the usage recommended by Nicholls, "Type, Group and Series: A Reconsideration of Some Coroplastic Fundamentals," BSA 47 (1952) 217-226. 12. The figurine in Bonn, 9.0 x 18.1 cm.; an unfired clay cast of the Getty mould, 7.4 x 16.8 cm. Normal shrinkage due to the loss of moisture in the process of drying and firing is just under ten per cent from one "generation" to the next, i.e., in a cast from a new mould (both second generation) made from a positive formed in a prior mould (both first generation). See E. Jastrow, "Abformung und Typenwandel in der antiken Tonplastik," OpusArch 2 (1941) 1-43. 13. Noelke (supra n. 7) 271. 14. Noelke (supra n. 7) 271-272, whence Bonn Akad. Kunstmus. inv. D 2585: AZ 40 (1885) (supra n. 7) 288, no. 5; Pinkwart (supra n. 7) 58-60. H.: 7.5 cm. Taranto Mus. Naz. inv. 3250, 6538 and 20.014. See also F. Winter, Die antiken Terrakotten III: Die Typen derfigürlichen Terrakotten I (Berlin and Stuttgart 1903) (hereafter cited as Winter) 198, 9, from Taranto in Trieste. 15. Louvre MNB 2608: Mollard-Besques (supra n. 7) 61, pl. 43, B 406. B 407, not illustrated, may be similar. 16. I am indebted to the courtesy of Mme Besques, Conservateur en Chèf, Musée du Louvre, and to the kind efforts of Mile Montambault for the measurements. LouvTe MNB 2608, from top of forehead to point of chin: 0.25 cm. (cf. cast of Getty mould: 0.21 cm.); rhyton, from top to base: 0.46 cm. (cast of mould: 0.40 cm.). 17. Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 36 and n. 9, 102, pl. 1, no. 2. Other figures also holding rhyta are to be distinguished from the Bonn-Malibu type: e.g., Louvre MNB 2607: Mollard-Besques (supra n. 7) pi. 42, B 405. The head is upright, the neck longer and the hair falls in three locks in front of either shoulder. The couch has a stepped head. Louvre MNB 2602, pi. 42, B 414, belongs to the series of Basel inv. no. 1928.59: Herdejtlrgen (supra n. 6) pl. 1, no. 2. 18. University Museum, Philadelphia, MS 1977. PH: 18.2 cm. See also Herdejürgen no. 2 (supra n. 6, 17) and examples in Trieste: Winter (supra n. 14) 198. 19. Each clay figure taken from the mould tends to lift a film of clay from the cavity, though the moulds are hard-fired. Note the sharpness of detail in the hairline (PI. 1:2), in contrast to the eye of the first phase. 20. Supra nn. 1-3. 21. See D. B. Thompson, review of Herdejürgen (supra n. 6), AJA 77 (1973) 246-247. 22. For Metapontine chronology, see Lo Porto, "Metaponto," NSc 20 (1966) 165-176, and Letta (supra n. 4) 10-14, for sites and types; for Policoro, Herakleiastudien (supra n. f ~ 188 (deposit D), 133-134 (deposits A and B), 163-164, 171. 23. E. g., Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 6 and nn. 36-38. 24. Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 4-5 and nn. 28-29. 25. Lo Porto, Atti 10 ConvSMG (supra n. 3) 534, pi. 104, 1-2. The deposit of female figurines is dated by the presence of Attic and Lakonian pottery fragments of ca. 550-525 B.C. 26. Louvre MNB 2610: Mollard-Besques (supra n. 7) pi. 42, B 402, withphialê; B 401 and B 404 probably belong to the same series. These figurines recline on a kline of which the head is raised. The detail, suggestive for dating, appears in the course of Late Corinthian vase painting. The couch is still flat in an LC column-krater, tentatively assigned by D. A. Amyx to the Cavalcade Painter: Museo Etrusco Gregorio, Vatican 126: H. Payne, Necrocorinthia (1931) 1452; Amyx and Lawrence, "Adversaria Critica: In and around the Sphinx Painter," AJA 68 (1964) 358 and n. 20. The head of the couch is stepped in an LC hydria, Louvre E 643, by the Damos Painter, from Caere: Payne 328, no. 1446, pi. 377, fig. 38. With one possible exception, the couches on which symposiasts of Lakonian vase painting recline are flat: see five fragments of a kylix, Samos K 1203, K 1541, K 2402, and Berlin 478x and 460x: C. M. Stibbe, Lakonische Vasenmaler des sechsten Jahrhunderts v. Chr. (Amsterdam 1972) (hereafter cited as Stibbe) 110-113, 243-245, pis. 58-59, fig. 26, Arkesilas Painter no. 191, Group A, ca. 565 B.C.

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27. Though the heads of the painted Lakonian symposiasts are presented in profile, the triangular upper torsos, the absence of articulation between waist and thighs, and the dressing of the hair are often comparable to the same elements in the Bonn-Malibu Banqueter: e.g., cf. Louvre E 672, from Campania (waist of elder male missing): CVA France I, 1, pi. 3, 2; Shefton, "Three Laconian Vase-painters," BSA 49 (1954) 304, pi. 52b, no. 6; Stibbe (supra n. 26) 33, 75-76, pi. 18, 1, fig. 36, Naukratis Painter no. 33, from Group E, ca. 565-550. 28. E.g., Vienna Kunsthist. Mus. inv. no. VI 2333, in which the right eye appears to have been lowered and moved toward the center of the face, while the left is set toward the temple: Himmelmann-Wildshütz, "Archaischer Bronzekuros in Wien," AA 80 (1965) 124-137, figs. 1-5. 29. H. Cahn, "Early Tarentine Chronology," Essays in Greek Coinage Presented to Stanley Robinson (Oxford 1968) 61, 66-68, pi. 6, 1 (for the running harpist, "Hyakinthos") and pi. 6, 2 (for the first dolphin rider of the reverse). For a revised date: C. Kraay, Archaic and Classical Greek Coins (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1976) 175 and note on 203. 30. Supra n. 12. 31. Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) no. 2, pi. 1. 32. Tarente (supra n. 2) 399 n. 2 for bibliography to 1939; Neutsch (supra n. 6) 150-151; Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 1-25; Letta (supra n. 4) 61-110. The earliest example published by Manfredini, "Terrecotte Archaiche Tarentine del Fondo Giovinazzi," RevStCl (1969) 75-80 is a type dated by Neutsch and Herdejürgen to ca. 500 B.C. 33. Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 2-3, her lib, nn. 11-14. 34. Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 7 n. 46. 35. Tarente (supra n. 2) 399-402, pi. 28, 2-3; Neutsch (supra n. 6) 156, pi. 66, 1-2; Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 2-3, nn. 12-14. Cf. Cahn (supra n. 29). 36. Neutsch (supra n. 6) 153, 161, pis. 62, 1-2; 63-64, 1; 67, 1-2; Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 2, 10 and n. 13. 37. Festschrift Arndt (supra n. 1) 9-12, Munich inv. 7574. 38. Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 2-4, nn. 13, 20; cf. University Museum MS 1965 (PH.: 16.0 cm.) and MS 1953 (PH.: ca. 9.6 cm.). I am deeply indebted to Prof. G. Roger Edwards, Associate Curator, University Museum, Philadelphia, for his courtesy in preparing the unpublished terracottas for examination, and to the Museum for permission to photograph and publish pertinent examples. Tarentine terracottas in the MS series were purchased in Italy for the University of Pennsylvania in 1897-98. 39. E.g., University Museum, Philadelphia, invs. MS 1858 (PH.: 10.5 cm.) and MS 1919 (PH.: ca. 7.3 cm.). 40. Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 14, 17-18, Type IV. 41. Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 11 and n. 63; Letta (supra n. 4) 73-109, pi. 14, Types Xa, Xb. 42. NSc 20 (1966) (supra n. 22) 166-172; Herakleiastudien (supra n. 5) 120-122, 170-173, 240 and n. 202, inv. D 16 and B 1661: pis. 27, 3; 31, 1. From Bothros 66B, Policoro, Neutsch, "Archäologische Grabungen und Funde in Unteritalien, 1949-1955," AA (1968) 777, fig. 26a. See also Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 17 and n. 104; Letta (supra n. 4) 92-105, pls. 15-20, Type Xa; M. Bonghi-Jovino, Documenti di coroplastica italiota, siceliota ed etrusco-laziale nel Museo Civico di Legnano (Florence 1972) (hereafter cited as Bonghi-Jovino) pis. 21-22, nos. 77, 80. 43. E.g., University Museum, Philadelphia, invs. MS 1908 (PH: 10.6 cm.), MS 1940 (PH.: 11.8 cm.), and MS 1910 (PH.: 10.1 cm.). 44. See Winter (supra n. 14) 208, 1-10; 209, 1-6, 8-10; and cf. 209, 7, with twin horsemen; AZ 40 (1882) (supra n. 7) 309-322; Bartoccini, "Taranto," NSc 12 (1936) 166-167, figs. 74-78; Lo Porto, BdA 46 (1961) (supra n. 5) 170-172, pi. 27, 2 and 4 (cf. the twins, fig. 1); Letta (supra n. 4) 106-107 and nn. 311-314. 45. Metropolitan Museum of Art, inv. 10.210.36 (PH.: 27.9 cm.) I am indebted to Dietrich von Bothmer and to his associate, Joan Mertens, for photographs and for permission to publish the pieces from New York. 46. Lo Porto has rightly questioned the identification of detached heads wearing Corinthian helmets as "Athena," noting the probability that they came from figures of banqueters or related

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types: NSc 20 (1966) (supra n. 22) 171, for nos. 54-55, pi. 7, 1. Cf. Herakleiastudien (supra n. 5) 15, nn. 94-95; Letta (supra n. 4) 106-107. 47. H. R. W. Smith (ed.), J. K. Anderson, Funerary Symbolism in Apulian Vase-painting (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1976) 39. For excavated examples, NSc 20 (1966) (supra n. 22) 166-173, figs. 32 and 34, pi. 8, 2-3. 48. Neutsch (supra n. 6) 150-163. 49. Gianelli (supra n. 6) 33-34; Tarente (supra n. 2) 503-510; Metzger, "Dionysos chtonien," BCH 68-69 (1944-45) 317; Neutsch (supra n. 6) 155-156, 159-163; NSc 20 (1966) (supra n. 22) 165-167; Herakleiastudien (supra n. 5) 171; RevStCl (1969) (supra n. 32) 76-79; HerdejUrgen (supra n. 6) 26-33; Letta (supra n. 4) 61-73. 50. Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 28-33. 51. Higgins, Catalogue of Greek Terracottas in the British Museum I (London, 1954) 336-337 and passim, 337-367. Mollard-Besques (supra n. 7) 61, terms the designation, "la plus vraisemblable," and Metzger (supra n. 49) 317, "toutefois incertain." Lo Porto merely notes the identification as Dionysos, Pluto or Hades as one which is current: NSc 20 (1966) (supra n. 22) 166; but cf. idem, BdA 46 (1971) (supra n. 5) 136-137, figs. 7-9, for "Dionysos-Hades, Persephone, Iakchos." Gianelli (supra n. 6) 33-34, and Wuilleumier, Tarente (supra n. 2) 503-510, favored such an interpretation, and it is upheld by Caratelli: "Culti e dottrine religiose in Magna Grecia," Atti 4 ConvSMG (1964) 32-33. 52. Neutsch (supra n. 6) 155-163; Herakleiastudien (supra n. 5) 171. 53. A. Levi, Le terrecotte figurate del Museo Nazionale di Napoli (Florence 1926) 34-35, nos. 125-132, figs. 34-35: Herakleiastudien (supra n. 5) 170-171; Letta (supra n. 4) 108-111, Type Xla (Xlb includes the familiar plaques showing the twin figures). 54. JHS 7 (1886) (supra n. 2) 19; Tarente (supra n. 2) 539; Lo Porto, Atti 4 ConvSMG (supra n. 3) 378. 55. Loc. cit. supra n. 51. 56. G. Zuntz, Persephone (Oxford 1975) 167, n. 5: ". . . the interpretation of the nearly 30,000 Tarentine 'funeral banquets' as representations of the 'holy family,' Persephone, Dionysos, and their child Iacchos rests on no evidence whatever. No marital association of Dionysos and Persephone is attested anywhere except in two late Latin sources . . . " 57. Smith (supra n. 47) 75-82; see also Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 27 and nn. 161-172; cf. P. Zancani Montuoro, "La 'Persephone' di Taranto," AttiMGrecia 4 (1933) 159-174. 58. Smith (supra n. 47) 22, 52, 61 and passim. See also K. Schauenberg, "Pluton und Dionysos," Jdl 68 (1953) 29-73; idem, "Die Totengötter in der unteritalienischen Vasenmalerei," Jdl 73 (1958) 48-78. 59. Louvre E 643 (supra n. 26). 60. Herakleiastudien (supra n. 5) 167-169, 4 e. 61. Both Evans, JHS 7 (1886) (supra n. 2) 13-16, and Lenormant, GB A 25 (1882) (supra n. 1) 211, though noting that the solitary horsemen came from the same deposits as the Banqueters, discussed them in terms of the Dioskouroi. For objections to Dionysos as a helmeted figure: Neutsch (supra n. 6) 159 and n. 39. 62. Neutsch (supra n. 6) 158-160, with examples, n. 38.1 am indebted to D. von Bothmer and to Joan Mertens for the photograph of MMA inv. 20.219. PH: 25.4 cm.: MMA Bull (Sept., 1923) 214; Richter, Handbook of the Greek Collection (1953) 98, n. 48, pi. 79e. 63. Peterson, "Dioskuren in Tarent," RömMitt 15 (1900) (henceforth cited as Peterson) 60-61, differentiated the individual horsemen from the twins of the plaques. It is not always noted that Wolters, Festschrift Arndt (supra n. 1) 12-13, had altered some of his conclusions between 1882 and 1925. See p. 12: "Und so scheint mir auch heute noch sich alles trefflich der Deutung auf Heroen zu fügen." 64. Paribeni, "Eroi tarantini e Dioscuri," Festschrift von Mercklin (Hamburg 1964) 112-115. 65. Herakleiastudien (supra n. 5) 170-171; Schlager and Rüdiger, "Santa Maria d'Anglona," NSc 23 (1969) 191, fig. 30. 66. Peterson (supra n. 63) 47; cf. A. Stazio, "La documentazione archeologica in Puglia," Atti 4 ConvSMG (1964) 157-158.

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67. T. J. Dunbabin, The Western Greeks (Oxford 1948) 91-92. 68. A. Alfoldi, Early Rome and the Latins2 (Ann Arbor 1971) 259-262. 69. Kraay (supra n. 29) 190-191. 70. Polyb. 8.28.1-3. The taphos was used by Hannibal's men as the height from which to show a fire signal across the city wall to the Tarentine collaborators inside. 71. Tarente (supra n. 2) 408-409. 72. NSc 9 (1881) (supra n. 2) 513-515; Levi (supra n. 50) xxiii; map, Tarente (supra n. 2) designated, "Apollon, Muses." 73. I am indebted to A. Campi, former Assistente, Museo Naz. di Taranto, for knowledge of the site. 74. Stazio, Atti 4 ConvSMG (supra n. 66) 158-164; M. G. Tangorra, Stipe votiva dalla Masseria Carmine e il culto di Apollo a Taranto (diss. Bari 1965-1966). I owe thanks to Prof. Moreno, Univ. of Bari, and to Dott. G. F. Lo Porto, E. Lattanzi, and A. Campi, Museo Naz. di Taranto, for their kind arrangements in making the typescript available to me. 75. The head of a Hellenistic banqueter in the study collection of the J. Paul Getty Museum, inv. 71.AD.311, resembles detached heads among fragments in Naples and Taranto: Kingsley (supra n. 10) 6, no. 10. 76. Stazio, Atti 4 ConvSMG (supra n. 66) pi. 11. 77. Peterson (supra n. 63) 61; cf. Herdejtirgen (supra n. 6) 32. 78. Gianelli (supra n. 6) 15-27; Tarente (supra n. 2) 29-47, 518. 79. Justinus 3.4 80. Strabo 6.282. 81. Antiochos ap. Strabo 6.278-79 ( = FGrHist IIIB, 550), Diod. 8.21.3, Dion. Hal. 19.1.2-4, Pausanias 10.10.6-8. 82. Stazio, Atti 4 ConvSMG (supra n. 66) 170-172. 83. Probus ap. Virg. Georg. 2.197. 84. Servius ap. Virg. Aen. 3.551. 85. Supra p. 203 and n. 29. 86. Paus. 3.13.5. 87. Paus. 3.25.7. 88. Hdt. 1.24. 89. Paus. 2.1.7-8, 2.2.1, 2.3.4. Cf. 2.1.3. 90. I.e., within the lifetime of Periander of Corinth. For the chronology: R. Sealey, A History of the Greek City-States 750-338 B.C. (Berkeley 1976) 60 n. 5. 91. Hdt. 1.23. 92. Beazley, review of CVA: U.S. 6, The Robinson Collection 2, JHS 58 (1938) 268; F. Studniczka, Kyrene (Leipzig 1890) 184-185, suggested that the bronze at Tainaron represented Poseidon himself. 93. Attic BF skyphos, Boston Mus. F. A. 20.18: ABV (>\1, Heron Group, 500-490 B.c.; A. D. Trendall and T. B. L. Webster, Illustrations from Greek Drama (Phaidon 1971) 21, I, 11; see also I, 14-15 and IV, 5. 94. Paus. 10.13.10. The second sculptor's name is uncertain, for the text is corrupt at this point: Tarente (supra n. 2) 58. 95. Bourget, "Rapport sur un mission à Delphes," REG (1913) 13-16; SIG' 40a; idem, Les Ruines de Delphes (Paris 1914) 155, fig. 49; P. de la Coste-Messelière, Au Musée de Delphes (Paris 1936) 29, no. 1; G. Daux, Pausanias à Delphes (Paris 1936) 151, fig. 6, pi. 6; Tarente (supra n. 2) 57-58; Dunbabin (supra n. 67) 149; Amandry, "Notes de topographie et d'architecture delphiques I I , " BCH 73 (1949) 447-463, figs. 1-4. 96. Paus. 10.13.10. 97. Studniczka (supra n. 92) 181; Gianelli (supra n. 6) 21-22. 98. Paribeni (supra n. 64) 114. 99. Three fragments of the same type, Taranto Mus. Naz. I. G. 20010; Heidelberg ArchSol. Inst, (mould); and Bari Mus. Archeol.: Neutsch (supra n. 6) 158-159 and n. 38 k, pis. 69, 1-2; 72, 1. Cf. Metropolitan Museum of Art inv. 20.221 (our PI. 2:2), PH.: 23.5 cm.: MMABull (Sept.

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1923) 214. I am indebted to D. von Bothmer and Joan Mertens for the photograph and permission to publish the piece. 100. Ephoros ap. Strabo 6.279 ( = FGrHist IIA, 105, no. 216). 101. Supra n. 81. 102. Supra n. 81. 103. LSJ', s.v. Kuvét|: Beazley, " T h e Antimenes Painter," JHS 47 (1927) 65 n. 15; Lullies, "Drei Fragmente von attische rotfiguren Vasen," Festschrift für Frank Brommer (Mainz 1977) 219 and n. 20, pl. 59, 4. 104. Hesych. s.v. KOVETJ: nTXog 'ApicaSucói;. 105. Stele of Sosippos, son of Nauarchides, Louvre 743: J. Charbonneaux, La Sculpture Grecque et Romaine au Musée du Louvre (Paris 1963) 32-33. The lip of a bothros at the foot of the cult statue of the hero recalls Pausanias 2.2.1 and the underground adyton at Isthmia in which it was said Palaimon was hidden, as well as the offerings to Hyakinthos made through a door in the base of the "throne of Bathykles" at Amyklai, Pausanias 8.19.3. For the symbolism of the pilos, see Caratelli, "Per la storia dei culti di T a r a n t o , " Atti 10 ConvSMG (1970) 143-145, whence S. Tondo, Aspetti simbolici e magici delta struttura giuridica delta manumisso vindicta (Milan 1967) 143ff. 106. Marble lekythos from Attica in Leiden: A. Conze, Attische Grabreliefs (Berlin 1892 -1922) 627, ill. 117: E. Kjellberg, Studien zu den attischen Reliefs des V. Ihr. v. Chr. (Uppsala 1926) 34; Frei and Kingsley, "Three Attic Sculptural Workshops of the Early Fourth Century B.C.," GRBS 11 (1970) 205-206, pl. 15, 2, no. 32. 107. "Plaque with Castor standing beside a horse," inv. 34.120: D . Robinson, Olynthus XIV (Baltimore 1952) 229-230, pl. 97, no. 290. H.: 13.1 cm. 108. Paus. 3.24.5. 109. Fragments, Louvre MNC 211; Berlin Staatl. Mus. F 601, and Corinth Mus. C-63-203, C-63-251, C-63-250: Geagan, "Mythological themes on the plaques from Pentaskouphi," AA (1970) 44 and fig. 16a. To these Prof. Geagan has now added Berlin Staatl. Mus. I 173, which two fragments complete the figure of a swimming Triton, also appearing, she informs me, in Berlin Staatl. Mus. F 654, F 781 and I 83: J. Morrison and R. Williams, Greek Oared Ships 900-322 B.C. (Cambridge 1968) 87, pl. 12c, no. 40. I am grateful to Prof. Geagan for permission to publish her sketch of the fragments which she has now assembled; she notes that the lambda is not as well preserved as the drawing suggests. 110. Geagan (supra n. 109) 46. 111. Geagan (supra n. 109) 32. 112. Geagan (supra n. 109) 33, 41-43, nn. 8 and 42, figs. 16b, 17ab. 113. Geagan (supra n. 109) 33-42, figs. 1-7. 114. Geagan, "Poseidon in Burlesque," abstract of paper presented at the 77th general meeting, Archaeological Institute of America (Washington, D. C. 1975) 11. 115. Neutsch (supra n. 6) 158-159 n. 38 i. 116. J. Fontenrose, Python, a Study of Delphic Myth and Its Origins (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1959) (hereafter cited as Python) 366-401. 117. Kraay (supra n. 29) 175-176, pl. 38, nos. 664-676. 118. Kraay (supra n. 29) 183-184, 190-193, pis. 38-39, nos. 672-677, 680-682, 684. 119. Horace Carmina 2.6.12; Silius Italicus 11.16. 120. Steph. Byz. s.v. 'AGrivai. 121. Atti 4 ConvSMG (supra n. 66) 156-157. 122. GBA 25 (1882) (supra n. 1) 301-302; Festschrift Arndt (supra n. 1) 10. 123. JHS 1 (1886) (supra n. 2) 5 - 6 , m a p p. 4; Mariani, " T a r a n t o , " NSc 5 (1897) 216-217, fig. 38. (Note terracotta Banqueters found near the wall, 222, figs. 41-42); Lo Porto, Atti 10 ConvSMG (supra n. 3) 363. 124. JHS 7 (1886) (supra n. 2) 506. 125. Polyb. 8.34.1-13. Hannibal had ships hauled from the inner (Mare Piccolo) to the outer sea, behind the protection of the earthworks and stockades previously put across the neck of the peninsula (8.32.2-33.7). Since the Romans occupied and controlled the waters off the acropolis,

The Reclining Heroes of Taras and Their Cult

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the Tarentine ships liberated by Hannibal should have been anchored off the lower town. A dump of murex shells just west of the "Giovinazzi" area marked the activity of fishermen: see Tárente (supra n. 2) 221-222 and map. 126. Many of the finds are unpublished, the sites reported only vaguely: (a) Near a stretch of ancient wall west of the Arsenal: NSc 5 (1897) (supra n. 123) 222-223, figs. 41-42 and plan, 217, fig. 38; (b) Among a large deposit of varied types and groups near the Chiesa S. Francesco Paolo, at the site of a (later) Roman bath: Patroni, "Taranto," NSc 1 (1889) 303; (c) Via Palma: Neutsch (supra n. 6) 156, n. 29; 157, n. 32; 159, nn. 38 g, i, k and 1 (Taranto Mus. Naz. 20004-20048) pis. 66, 2; 68, 3; 69, 1; (d) Between the Via Crispi, Via Dante, and Caserma Mezzacapo: Neutsch (supra n. 6) 151-152 and n. 6; (e) Via Leporano, near the Batteria "Chianca," with tombs nearby: NSc 12 (1936) (supra n. 44) 112-115, figs. 1-5, inv. 50023-50045; (f) Via Mezzacapo south of the Via Oberdan: NSc 12 (1936) (supra n. 44) 151-171, figs. 42-83, inv. 50361-50583. See also Stazio, Atti 4 ConvSMG (supra n. 66) 155-156. 127. Lo Porto, Atti 10 ConvSMG (supra n. 3) 372-373, pi. 64. 128. Lo Porto, Atti 10 ConvSMG (supra n. 3) 365-371. 129. For sites of the burials, see J. Carter, The Sculpture of Taras (TransAmPhilosophSoc monograph 66, no. 7, 1975) 11. 130. Though the Tarentine necropolis lay within the city walls, one may compare the hypothetical approach from the docks toward the agora with Pausanias' walk toward the gates of Corinth, 2.2.3-2.5, or along the streets leading from the agora at Sparta, 3.12.1-16.6. Cf. also the location of shrines found in the potters' quarters at Corinth: Williams, "Excavations 1977, Forum Southwest," Hesperia 47 (1978) 7, n. 9. 131. Farnell, Cults of the Greek States IV (Oxford 1905) 5-23, 81-88. 132. Williams, "Corinth, 1972: the Forum Area," Hesperia 42 (1973) 6-12, figs. 2-4, pis. 1, 4-5: "Excavations at Corinth," Hesperia 43 (1974) 1-6, fig. 1, pi. lab; "Corinth 1977, Forum Southwest," Hesperia 47 (1978) 1-12, figs. 1-2, pi. l a - c . 133. Hesperia 42 (1973) 6-8, pi. 3; 43 (1974) 5, pi. 1, figs. 3-5; Hesperia 47 (1978) 1-12, figs. 1-2, pi. 2, 10-18. 134. Supra n. 132. 135. Weinberg, "Terracotta Sculptures at Corinth," Hesperia 24 (1957) 314, pi. 70, no. 32. PH.: 12.0 cm. 136. Gianelli (supra n. 7) 115; Tárente (supra n. 2) 479-480; Atti 4 ConvSMG (supra n. 51) 35. 137. Stazio, Atti 4 ConvSMG (supra n. 66) 160-161; cf. Tárente (supra n. 2) 242-246. 138. Lo Porto, Atti 10 ConvSMG (supra n. 3) 371. 139. JHS 1 (1886) (supra n. 2) 27, no. 7, fig. 4. 140. Inv. Zil 203: Herdejlirgen (supra n. 6) 35, pi. 1, no. 1. H.: 12.5 cm. 141. The figure in Basel (supra n. 140) is ca. 0.3 cm. taller, though the peak of the cap is missing. 142. FGrHist IIIB, 1, 488. 143. Neutsch (supra n. 6) 154-155; Herdejürgen (supra n. 6) 30-31. 144. As Evans, "The Horsemen of Taras," NC 2 - 3 (1899) 1-228. 145. Appendix I (supra n. 92) 175-194. 146. Gianelli (supra n. 6) 25-26. 147. Gianelli (supra n. 6) 21. 148. Studniczka (supra n. 92) 179. 149. Paus. 8.35.9. 150. See also Paus. 8.9.4.1-4 for variant genealogy. 151. Studniczka (supra n. 92) 190-191: ". . . was von solchen absonderlichen Nationale eines gut griechisch benannten Heros zu halten ist." 152. FGrHist IIIB, 2, 346. See on Phoinix, Python (supra n. 116) 276-277, 294. 153. Paus. 10.10.8; Probus ap. Virg. Georg. 2.197. 154. Paus. 10.10.6-7; Apollod. 3.15.6-7, 3.16.1. 155. Ath. 8.360e.

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156. Dion. Hal. 19.1.3. Cf. Python (supra n. 116) 417-418 and passim. 157. Ath. 8.360f-361. 158. For the events at Amyklai, supra nn. 81, 100. The oracles are best preserved in Diod. 8.21.3, Paus. 10.10.6-8 and Justinus 3.4. 159. Paus. 10.10.6, 10.13.10. 160. Servius ap. Virg. Aen. 3.551; Probus ap. Virgil, Georg. 4.126. 161. J. Berard, La colonisation Grecque de l'Italie meridionale et de la Sicile (Paris 1941) 529. 162. Paus. 3.12.9, 3.19.6. 163. E.g., Thucydides 1.133. 164. Paus. 3.12.5; Herodotos 1.67. 165. Paus. 3.14.2. 166. In order, Paus. 3.25.5, 3.25.1-2 and 3.21.5. 167. Python (supra n. 116) 374-401; Appendix 1, especially p. 487; Appendix 6, 545-549, and passim. 168. Noted too late to be discussed is a fragment from a kylix in Athens, Agora P 1265, with graffiti that Mabel Lang has read as, "Boy, bring other new couches for Phalanthos." Klinteras and Phalanthos are both restorations: Lang, Graffiti in the Athenian Agora (Princeton 1974) no. 22.

CHARLES E. MURGIA

The Length of the Lacuna in Tacitus' Dialogus

At the end of chapter 35 of the Dialogus there is a lacuna, marked in most of the MSS, but variously described in the witnesses as of six folia, six pagellae, six paginae, and a folium and a half. Modern critics have generally agreed that the lacuna must have been of a folium and a half. 1 The reason for this agreement is the evidence that the lacuna must have been relatively small. Those who argue for a large lacuna suppose that it was filled by a speech of Secundus.2 The case against a speech by Secundus has been convincingly made by Hass-von Reitzenstein,3 whose arguments are summed up by Williams4 as follows: "That Secundus made no real contribution in this gap is shown by the fact that he is not mentioned at the end and that it is Messalla who comments on Maternus' speech (42), thereby showing that Maternus spoke immediately after him. 5 Also, in general the Ciceronian pattern is of no more than three main speakers." Hass-von Reitzenstein (p. 128) had compared Messalla's response to the response of Lucilius to Cotta at the end of Cicero's De Natura Deorum. Barwick (p. 4) had remarked on the symmetrical division of the Dialogus into three pairs of speeches: Aper-Maternus, Aper-Messalla, Messalla-Maternus. There is no room for a very large lacuna. Nevertheless, a lacuna of one and a half folia is inherently improbable. The problem is that there is no reasonable way in which one and a half folia of continuous text can perish within the body of a work. One and a half folia constitute three pages, and of course if one side of a page perishes so does the other. If the outer half of a folium perishes (that is, 221

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the outer columns of two-column pages) together with an adjoining folium, the result is two lacunae, not one continuous one. 6 Advocates of the short lacuna have tried to explain the situation as either a blank of a folium and a half left by the scribe of the Hersfeldensis, 7 or as resulting from the fading of ink on a folium and a half. 8 As we will see, the former does not fit the evidence of the witnesses, while the latter is completely improbable. Ink can fade at a faster rate on the flesh side of vellum than on the hair side, but three consecutive pages must include at least one hair side, and a condition that obliterated three consecutive pages of text, leaving every word unreadable, while the text fore and aft was completely legible, is difficult to imagine. That such a condition would be described by a cataloguer 9 as the loss of six folia is impossible. A loss of six pages is also improbable, unless the three folia which they constituted made up an irregular gathering or the inner leaves of an irregular gathering. Gatherings are normally of four leaves ( = eight folia = sixteen pages), and are rarely of an odd number of folia, unless required by the space of text to be written (as when a lacuna is being filled, or the scribe is avoiding wasting folia at the end of a work). Until Barwick challenged the theory, scholars had generally followed Gudeman 10 in believing that the lacuna was of six folia, a number that could readily fall out of a MS if they constituted the three inner leaves of a quire. Although Barwick was on sound ground in disbelieving that the lacuna could be very long, his evaluation of the evidence of the MSS was hindered by the inadequate, nay mistaken, understanding of the tradition that then prevailed. It is time now to set forth the transmitted evidence. The evidence of the MSS of the Dialogus is as follows. Codex Vat. Lat. 1862 (Winterbottom's B) reads at the lacuna hie desunt sex pagellae. Codex Leidensis Perizonianus XVIII Q 21 (Winterbottom's b) reads deerant in exemplari sex pagellae uetustate consumptae. Barwick believed that B and b descended from a common exemplar X, in which therefore sex pagellae were indicated as the lacuna. But Winterbottom" has proven that b descends from B itself. Therefore b's testimony is worthless, and our only witness of the two is B. Barwick believed that X was copied directly from the Hersfeldensis. On the contrary, I have shown12 that codex B is at least two stages removed from the Hersfeldensis. Codex B shares a common hyparchetype with another family of MSS, Winterbottom's T, composed of Winterbottom's codices C, Q, and a group of MSS which Winterbottom calls \|/. The relationship of B to r is most readily demonstrated by the reading at 21.4. There, where BC read incorrectly regulae, and Q(v|/?) re followed by a space of three

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letters, EV have correctly illae. The error resulted from the use of a Renaissance abbreviation f for illae; a subsequent Renaissance scribe must have miswritten i as r, producing re, the Renaissance abbreviation for regulae; re was accurately expanded by BC, but Q(i|/?) wrote re, with room left for the abbreviation to be expanded later. The process of error requires at least two Renaissance exemplars to intervene between the Hersfeldensis and B (there may have been many more), at least one between the Hersfeldensis and the hyparchetype shared by BI\ Of the MSS of r cited by Winterbottom, only Q is reported to record information about the lacuna: it reads hie deficiunt quatuor parue pagellae. Unless there has been contamination between B and Q, it would appear that the hyparchetype shared by BT used the word pagellae. Barwick takes Q's quatuor to result from an error iu for ui.13 The remaining witness of the MSS comes from EV. These codices descend from an hyparchetype C,. V reads hie est defectus unius folii cum dimidio. Barwick mistakenly believed that E has the same note, but Winterbottom reports as follows for E: hie deest multum: in exemplari dicunt deesse sex paginas. Barwick believed that E read hie est defectus unius folii cum dimidio: in exemplari dicitur deesse sex paginas. Barwick got dicitur from Gudeman's report, and hie . . . dimidio from a misreading of Gudeman's apparatus, in which the words are attributed rather to A (Vat. Lat. 4498). Barwick argued that the reference to sex paginas in E resulted from contamination of E by b. Since he believed that the source of EV gave the lacuna as one and a half folia, and that the source of EV and the source of Bb both copied the Hersfeldensis directly, he sought to reconcile the two testimonies. His attempted reconciliation was the claim that pagellae meant "columns," and that therefore a loss of six columns in a codex written two columns to a page equalled the loss of three pages, or one and a half folia. Unfortunately, all Barwick's beliefs were wrong. Not only was he mistaken about the reading of E, but the common source of EV, cannot possibly be a direct copy of the Hersfeldensis. All the MSS of the Dialogus share errors that can have arisen only in a Renaissance archetype, since they reflect Renaissance abbreviations.14 This means that whether they received these readings through direct descent or through contamination, none of the hyparchetypes can be direct copies of the Hersfeldensis. If the MSS receive these errors by direct descent, it means that even the Renaissance archetype cannot be a direct copy of the Hersfeldensis, since it must have been copied from a Renaissance exemplar containing the humanistic abbreviations that it misinterpreted. Therefore £ and the hyparchetype of B r would each have to

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be at least two exemplars removed from the Hersfeldensis. They could be much further removed. The Hersfeldensis is known to have been liberally equipped with marginal variants. The Renaissance archetype, however, seems to have had few such variants, but many conflated doublets. 15 The process of suppressing or conflating the variants of the Hersfeldensis is unlikely to have been a speedy one (we need only compare the tendency to maintain them among MSS of the Agricola and Germania). Although the matter is not susceptible of proof, the chances that several exemplars intervene between the archetype and the Hersfeldensis seem to me strong. Barwick and most of those who followed him suffered from a misconception of the strength of the MSS' evidence. Even if we could establish an archetypal version of the size of the lacuna, we would have no guarantees that the archetype describes the size of the lacuna in the Hersfeldensis, and not the space left in some intermediate exemplar. As for Barwick's claim that pagellae means "columns," the explanation is ingenious, but unlikely to be correct. It is claimed16 that in antiquity pagina was used to indicate a column in a papyrus roll, but the use of pagella in humanistic times to describe a column in a codex, where its natural meaning should be "page," is both dubious and undemonstrated. There is one judgment of Barwick with which I am inclined to agree. That is the suggestion that E's in exemplari dicunt deesse sex paginas reflects contamination from b's deerant in exemplari sex pagellae uetustate consumptae. Remember that b descends from B, which has simply hie desunt sex pagellae. B displays the simplicity of truth. Similarly Q, whether it got its reading from B or from B's source, shows the embellishment of a secondary witness. In E, the words in exemplari are likely to come from b's embellishment. If so, E's testimony is worthless. If E received its testimony by direct descent, it would serve to exclude V's testimony from reflecting the archetype. As it is, B's testimony still seems the closer to transmitted. Gudeman's apparatus reveals some other testimony, all of which can be dismissed as secondary. His codex A is reported as reading (in the margin of the facing page): hie est defectus unius folii cum dimidio. hie multum defuit. 17 If this is accurately reported, hie . . . dimidio seems to be borrowed from V (or its source), hie . . . defuit from the hie deest multum of E (or, more likely, its source). Notice that Winterbottom argues 18 that A,

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although normally related to C (which has no note), is contaminated by The subscription provides evidence that the codex draws from both branches of Sharing contamination from £ is Winterbottom's c (Neapolitanus IV C 21), which Gudeman reports to have Multum deficit in exemplaribus quae reperiuntur. Again the note reflects contamination traceable to E's branch of plus embellishment. The reference to exemplaribus reflects c's status as an edition using readings culled from many sources. The versions of A and c therefore can be dismissed. There is one other type of evidence in the MSS. We are told that all MSS actually leave a space at the place of the lacuna, although editors are usually remiss in not telling us how much space is left. But Barwick and Robinson both investigated V, and inform us" that V leaves almost a full folium vacant (only the first two lines of folium 227 being occupied by the text before the lacuna). A codex copied from V would be likely to claim hie deficit folium unum. Possibly something similar is the cause of V's hie est defectus unius folii cum dimidio. V may descend from a codex that left a folium and a half blank. 20 But if so, this codex was not the Hersfeldensis. The evidence of the MSS therefore is basically weak. There is not a single MS that can be proven to witness the size of the lacuna in the Hersfeldensis, rather than the space left in some intermediate exemplar. Our sole evidence that must refer to the Hersfeldensis itself is found in an inventory of Niccolo Niccoli and in a note of Pier Candido Decembrio. Niccolo's inventory is found at the end of a MS of philosophical works of Cicero.21 Robinson (pp. 6f) quotes the part that deals with the monastery at Hersfeld: In Monasterio hispildensi haud procul ab alpibus continentur haec opuscula. videlicet: Julii Frontini De aquae ductis quae in urbem inducunt liber j. Incipit sic: PERSECVTVS ea quae de modulis dici fuit necessarium. Nunc ponam quemadmodum queque aqua ut principium commentariis comprehensum est usque ad nosstram curam habere visa sit &c. Continet hie liber xiij. Item eiusdem frontini liber incipit sic: Cum omnis res ab imperatore delegata interiorem exigat & curam & me seu naturalis solicitudo seu fides sedula, non ad diligentiam modo, uerum ad morem commisse rei instigent, sitque mihi nunc ab nerua augusto, nescio diligentiore an amantiore rei .p. imperatore aquarum iniunctum officium & ad usum &c. Continet .xi. folia.

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Cornelii taciti de origine & situ germanorum liber incipit sic: Germania omnis a gallis rhetiisque et pannoniis rheno & danubio fluminibus a sarmatis datisque & mutuo metu a montibus separatur etc. Continet autem xij folia. Item in eodem codice: Cornelii taciti De uita Iulii agricole incipit sic: Clarorum uirorum facta moresque posteris tradere antiquitus usitatum, ne nostris quidem temporibus, quamquam uniuersa suorum etas omisit. Qui liber continet. xiiij. folia. Item in eodem codice: Dialogus De oratoribus qui incipit sic: Sepe ex me requiris iuste fabi, cur cum priora secula tot eminentium oratorum ingeniis, gloria, floruerint: nostra potissimum etas deserta & laude eloquentiae orbata: qui liber continet xviij. folia. Item in eodem codice continetur liber— Suetonii Tranquilli De grammaticis & rhetoribus, qui incipit sic: Grammatica romae ne in usu quidem olim nedum in honore ullo &c. Continet hic liber folia vij. Ammiani Marcellini rerum gestarum libri xviij. Qui peruenerunt usque ad obitum Valentis imperatoris: qui est finis hystoriae. The note of Decembrio was published by Sabbadini from codex Ambr. R 88 sup., f. 112.22 I quote Robinson's text (pp. 8f): Cornelii taciti liber reperitur Rome uisus 1455 de Origine et situ Germanie. Incipit: Germania omnis a Gallis retiisque et panoniis Rheno et danubio fluminibus a Sarmatis dacisque mutuo metu aut montibus seperatur. cetera occeanus ambit. Opus est foliorum xii in columnellis. Finit: Cetera iam fabulosa helusios et oxionas ora hominum uultusque corpora atque artus ferarum gerere. quod ego ut incompertum in medium relinquam. utitur autem cornelius hoc uocabulo inscientia non inscitia. Est alius liber eiusdem de uita Julii agricole soceri sui. in quo continetur descriptio Britanie insule, nec non populorum mores et ritus. Incipit: Clarorum uirorum facta moresque posteris tradere antiquitus usitatum, ne nostris quidem temporibus quamquam incuriosa suorum etas ommisit. Opus foliorum decern et quattuor in columnellis. finit: Nam multos ueluti inglorios et

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ignobiles obliuio obruet, Agricola posteritati narratus et traditus superstes erit. Cornetti taciti dialogus de oratoribus incipit: Sepe ex me requiris iuste fabi, cur cum priora secula tot eminentium oratorum ingeniis gloriaque floruerint, nostra potissimum etas deserta et laude eloquentie orbata vix nomen ipsum oratoris retineat. Opus foliorum xiiii. in columnellis. post hec deficiunt sex folia, nam finit: quam ingentibus uerbis prosequuntur. Cum ad ueros iudices uentum. deinde sequitur: rem cogitare, nihil abiectum nihil humile. post hec sequuntur folia duo cum dimidio. et finit: Cum adrisissent discessimus. Suetonii tranquilli de grammaticis et rhetoribus liber. Incipit: Grammatica rome nec in usu quidem olim, nedum in honore ullo erat, rudis scilicet ac bellicosa etiam turn ciuitate necdum magnopere liberalibus disciplinis uacante. Opus foliorum septem in columnellis. finit perprius. Et rursus in cognitione cedis mediolani apud lucium pisonem proconsulem defendens reum, cum cohiberent lictores nimias laudantium uoces, ita excanduisset, ut deplorato Italie statu quasi iterum in formam prouincie redigeretur .M. insuper brutum cuius statua in conspectu erat inuocaret Regum ac libertatis auctorem ac uindicem. Vltimo imperfecto columnello finit: diu ac more concionantis redditis, abstinuit cibo. Videtur in ilio opere Suetonius innuere omnes fere rhetores et Grammatice professores, desperatis fortunis finiuisse uitam. Niccolò's inventory evidently descends from excerpts that Poggio had made of an inventory given him by a Hersfeld monk: so Poggio in a letter to Niccolò of 15 May 1427 (49 Gordan = 3.12 Tonelli): "He (the Hersfeld monk) is a good man but ignorant of our studies, and he thought that whatever he found that was unknown to him would be unknown to us too and so he crammed it (the inventory) with books which we have, the same books as you have known elsewhere. However I am sending you the part23 of his inventory which describes the volume of Cornelius Tacitus and of other authors whom we lack." There is one other testimony, most recently quoted by Schaps (32), which should be mentioned if only to be dismissed. This is a letter of Poggio's son Jacopo,24 written in late 1475 or early 1476. The letter

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quotes from the same source as Niccolò (Poggio's excerpts of the Hersfeld inventory), and though it seems more accurate in some words (hisfildensi for hispildensi in the first line, aqueductibus qui. . . inducuntur in the first sentence about Frontinus), it is less accurate in others, and omits much specific information (including the description of the Dialogus), while adding nothing substantive. It does however read xHi folia at the end of the first paragraph on Frontinus, where Niccolò's inventory exhibits only xiii. At the end, Jacopo adds: Verum nostris temporibus Pii pontificis opera in Italiam venit Suetonius hie et Cornelius de situ et origine Germanorum et de oratoribus, sed corruptus et laceratus. This is misinformation. The Minor Works, if seen at Rome in 1455, as Decembrio tells us, and brought to Rome by Enoch of Ascoli (who is known to have brought MSS from Germany to Rome in 1455) as two inscriptions by Pontanus in codex b state,25 had reached Italy before the reign of Pope Pius II (1458-1464).26 Further, he seems to have known of the survival of the Minor Works only in the form in which they existed in most copies, and in the first printed edition (ca. 1470 by Vindelin of Spire, Venice)—lacking the Agricola. The Agricola was first printed by Puteolanus about 1475, near the time that Jacopo wrote. Evidently Jacopo had no firsthand knowledge of the Hersfeldensis. His sole value for us is that he confirms the existence of the source of Niccolò's inventory among Poggio's papers. I have quoted Niccolò and Decembrio at some length, and not simply the description of the Dialogus, since there are important things to be learned from the context.27 From the diversity of the content of the note and the inventory, it is apparent that they represent separate acts of inspection, and are not dependent one on the other. From the similarities of the description of Germania, Agricola, Dialogus, De Grammaticis et Rhetoribus, it appears that the same codex is described, containing these works in that order. Both Niccolò and Decembrio are concerned to count folia, and when at the end of the second paragraph Niccolò writes only Continet hie liber xiii, the word to be understood is folia (as Jacopo wrote, whether because Poggio so wrote or because Jacopo filled the ellipsis). Decembrio is also concerned to note omissions, and so at the end of the second-last paragraph takes care to inform us that the Suetonius ends with its last column incomplete. From the first paragraph of Niccolò, we learn that the inventory reflects a description of codices when they were still in the monastery of Hersfeld. We know that this inspection took place sometime before Poggio sent the inventory to Niccolò in 1427.28 Decembrio's note reflects an examination of the Hersfeldensis in Rome in 1455 (Romae visus 1455). It does not

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matter whether Decembrio himself saw the codex (though that is the natural implication of visus). What matters is that the note reflects, with only such errors as may be expected of a scribe, an eyewitness description of the Hersfeldensis itself, made some thirty years after the report of the Hersfeld monk, and after the codex had undergone the hazards of travel to Rome. Niccolo's inventory does not exist in autograph copy, so minor textual errors may be expected. Nevertheless, both the inventory and the note, when compared with the part of the Hersfeldensis that survives today in codex Aesinas Lat. 8, and with the reconstructed archetype elsewhere, can be shown to be essentially accurate.29 This is particularly true of the count of folia. Decembrio tells us that the Dialogus contained fourteen folia up to (35.5) uentum, then another two and a half folia from (36.1) rem cogitare to the end. In between, he claims, six folia are missing. Niccolo's inventory makes no mention of a lacuna, but claims that the Dialogus contained eighteen folia. This difference of eighteen folia in 1425/27 and sixteen and a half folia in 1455 has been fastened upon as evidence that the lacuna embraced one and a half folia. For instance, Robinson (pp. 12f) suggests that there existed at the position of the lacuna a blank page and a half, and that Decembrio disregarded it in his count, while Niccolo's inventory counted it. But there is no way in which an observer, finding a blank page and a half before him, would describe that circumstance as the loss of six folia. It does not suffice to claim (Robinson, p. 13) that Decembrio simply copied a note of the Hersfeldensis. He may have copied a note, but the context of his own note is of counting actual folia: Opus foliorum xiiii.... post haec deficiunt sex folia . . . . post haec sequuntur folia duo cum dimidio. And a blank of a folium and a half would call for comment, as in the description of the Suetonius: Vltimo imperfecto columnello finit. The same problem attends on those who suggest that a folium and a half of writing had faded: it is irreconcilable with Decembrio's description. The attempt has even been made30 to reconcile the accounts of codices B and V by claiming that there were six pages unreadable in a majuscule codex, and that the scribe of the Hersfeldensis left six columns blank (a folium and a half) to accommodate the unreadable text. This explanation is improbable on many different grounds, besides the fact that it is irreconcilable with Decembrio's note. First, that six continuous pages within the body of an ancient codex survived completely illegible is unlikely; it would be more likely that they simply perished. Second, the psychology and economics of book production in medieval monasteries

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makes unlikely the leaving of a page and a half blank within the body of a MS. It is never necessary to leave over a folium blank, since additional folia can always be bound in when necessary to fill a lacuna. Wealthy book collectors of the Italian Renaissance could afford blank folia; ninth-century monasteries are most notable for their horror vacui.31 But most important, the Hersfeldensis is not a direct copy of an ancient MS, or even, as Robinson thought,32 a grandson of one. Scholars love reconstructing ancient exemplars as the immediate source of extant MSS, and occasionally it happens that the reconstruction is correct. But it is well to bear in mind that only a small fraction of books produced in the ninth century survived into the Italian Renaissance, and the chances are slim that any given medieval MS that a humanist managed to scour up was an immediate copy of an ancient exemplar. For the Minor Works, we have much evidence of a rich minuscule tradition preceding the Hersfeldensis. One quire of the codex (plus a unio in palimpsest) is extant for the Agricola, and can be observed to be liberally corrected by a second hand (E2, the first hand being cited as E), who also added many marginal variants (for which E2 is cited as Ev). Similar collections of variants have been transmitted by the descendants of the Hersfeldensis in the rest of the Agricola and in the Germania. These variants reveal many typical minuscule errors, e.g. Agr. 14.1 cogidumno E togidumno Ev recte;33 Germ. 45.2 sueuici Wvfiv saeuici £P.34 These errors reveal descent of E from a minuscule codex. The corrector of E also gives evidence of minuscule error, as Agr. 19.2 militesve Wex milites ne- E2 milites E; 25.1 uirium E uinum Ev; 35.3 -quo ceteri E quo steteri Ev. Most scholars have believed that the variants were copied by E2 from E's exemplar, but I have argued35 that E2 was probably correcting E from a different exemplar. If so, there were at least two minuscule exemplars known in the same part of Germany, and probably another minuscule MS as their common source. This minuscule source was in turn copied from a minuscule codex. Consider the following: Agr. 38.4 trucculensem E trutulensem Ev Rutupiensem Lips, recte. E's trucculensem is influenced by the familiar word truculentus, but the confusion is permitted by the close similarity of c and t in most minuscules. The common source of E and Ev therefore had trutulensem. I have argued36 that a majuscule ancestor had an error RUTULENSEM, and that trutulensem later arose through dittography in the sequence famarutulensem. The error supposes transmission through a codex in which t and a looked alike. This is also suggested by Dial. 23.6 ea quotiens Wopkins et quotiens codd.; Dial. 27 mitior et eloquentiae Scheie mitiore aeloquentia et codd. In Germ. 5.1 I have conjectured sed

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(i.e., set ea).37 There are many scripts in which t resembles a, but the reasonable possibilities here are a very early Caroline minuscule of the area, or, more likely, some minuscule predecessor of Caroline minuscule—either a Merovingian script or an Insular script.38 Note thaXAgr. 32.3 aegra municipia E taetra mancipia Ev shows descent by E2 from a MS or MSS in which a resembled t (producing the dittography ta), g resembled t, and u resembled a. This combination of letter forms is most easily found in Insular, as interpreted by a continental scribe of the VHIth/IXth century (who was used to looped t's and open a's). But it is difficult to exclude anything from Merovingian. The resemblance of g and t indicates a half-uncial g, standard in Insular, but excluded from Caroline minuscule. We seem then to be able to distinguish two distinct types of minuscule ancestors separating E from its majuscule ancestry, and a minimum of four ancestors in these scripts. If we can prove the existence of four minuscule ancestors, the chances are that there were actually many more, which simply duplicate the symptoms. Attempts to reconstruct the size of a lacuna in an ancient majuscule exemplar are therefore idle. The Hersfeldensis is so far removed from a majuscule ancestor that any correspondence between the length of its columns and the pages or folia of the exemplar could not have been maintained. 3 ' The chances are also slim that the Hersfeldensis preserved a note indicating the size of omission of a majuscule codex. It is not the ethos of the age to pretend to divine the length of missing text.40 That is the act of an Italian humanist, or a modern scholar. Since the lacuna seems to have corresponded to the end of a folium in the Hersfeldensis, and the extant part of the Hersfeldensis gives no evidence of being copied quire by quire or page by page from its exemplar,41 the probability is strong that the loss originated in the Hersfeldensis. What I suggest as most likely is the following. Decembrio42noticed that a folium or more of the Hersfeldensis was missing, and judged the missing amount to be of six folia. He so recorded in his note, and also wrote in the margin of the Hersfeldensis some such notice as deficiunt ui or desunt ui/3 unless that notice had already been written. The ambiguous ui was subsequently misunderstood by B or its source as sex pagellae. It may also have been misunderstood by V or its source as sex columnellae. We are left the problem of determining why Decembrio judged the lacuna to be of six folia. Some have suggested that Decembrio was copying a note that he found in the codex. If so, and some predecessor had sought to estimate the size of the lacuna, I doubt that he antedated the

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fifteenth century. But no matter. Whoever originated the note was expressing a judgment, not reporting observable fact, since the text was gone. I have already indicated that the requirements of the text of the Dialogus call for a lacuna of modest size, certainly not one of six folia, over one-third the size of the now extant work. I therefore do not believe that Decembrio or his source had a sound basis for indicating a lacuna of six folia. To state things positively, I believe that the lacuna must have been of a single folium. The figure is arrived at by comparing Niccolo's inventory, indicating eighteen folia before 1427, with Decembrio's count of sixteen and a half folia. Now when Decembrio says that the lacuna is followed by folia duo cum dimidio, he must mean that the verso of the final folium had been left blank, as we frequently find in medieval MSS. Decembrio's sixteen and a half folia equals seventeen folia, and the lacuna should be of a single folium. Robinson (p. 13) assumes that the blank page came at the beginning of the three final folia: that is, that the final five pages were preceded by three blank pages. I have already argued against the existence of three blank pages in the Hersfeldensis. Also against Robinson's assumption is Decembrio's language (two folia with a half, not a half then two), and the following consideration. The scribe is probably seeking to end the Dialogus with the end of a gathering, as he did the Agricola, for which there survives in palimpsest the final unio.44 Scribes like to make sure that they will have enough room to finish within the allotted space. So the text of the final unio of the Agricola is much more compressed than the preceding text:45 the extra space at the end was filled with an uncial explicit occupying twelve lines. In the Dialogus, the first fourteen folia contain thirty-five Teubner pages worth of text, for an average of 2.5 Teubner pages per folium. At that rate, the remaining seven Teubner pages should consume almost a full three folia. In fact the scribe has compressed his text, and averaged 2.8 pages per folium. With a limited space into which to get his text, it is unlikely that a scribe would resume after the lacuna so late as to jeopardize his completion by the end of the gathering. The comparison of Niccolo's inventory and Decembrio's note therefore indicates the loss of a single folium. Why did Decembrio, or whoever first made the judgment, decide that the loss was of six folia? We do not know. We can speculate, but the odds are against any particular hypothesis' being correct. The easiest way in which a judgment of loss of six folia would be made is if the lacuna occupied the inner part of a surviving unio (a single

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bifolium). Since gatherings are normally quaternions (four bifolia), it would naturally be thought that the missing text in between was of six folia. If the gathering was of irregular construction, the actual size of the lacuna could be anything from one to six folia or more. But a reconstruction of the Hersfeldensis does not lend itself to the above hypothesis. Its last ten folia of the Agricola are extant, from which it seems that the Germania and Agricola were constructed so:46 quaternion 1 contained the first eight folia of the Germania; quaternion 2 contained the last four folia of the Germania and the first four folia of the Agricola; quaternion 3, containing folia 5-12 of the Agricola, is extant; the fourth gathering is the unio extant in palimpsest, containing the last two folia of the Agricola. The Dialogus followed the Agricola, so gathering 5 was probably a quaternion, containing the first eight folia of the Dialogus. The lacuna, according to Decembrio, started after the fourteenth folium, which would be the sixth folium of gathering 6. If gathering 6 was a quaternion, then a loss of a single folium would mean the loss of the seventh folium of the gathering; a loss of six folia would mean the loss of the last two folia of the sixth quire, and the first four folia of the seventh quire. The latter distribution, two single folia lost from one quire and four from the next, is not at all likely. The loss of a single folium at any point in a gathering is possible, if the folium tore near the fold, where the bifolia are sewn together; but loss of the first four folia of a gathering jeopardizes the structure of the whole gathering. If the loss was of the seventh folium of quire 6, then the remaining three folia in the Dialogus would be likely to consist of the eighth folium of quire 6, and a unio. If such was the distribution, then Decembrio's judgment that six folia were missing would require either a bad misreading of the arrangement of folia, or a misreading of a note in the codex: e.g., if the codex had desunt or defic at the point of the lacuna, and Decembrio read with it a ui, which may have been serving a different function or have been part of some unrelated word. One possibility is that some humanistic predecessor of Decembrio had written, or meant to write, hie defuit (cf. Gudeman's [1914] report of A), and that this was read as hie def ui (hie deficiunt ui).*1 The supposition that eighteen folia of the Dialogus would be arranged as two quaternions plus a unio is based on the pattern observable in the Agricola, where the last quaternion is followed by a unio. It is nevertheless possible that a different arrangement was followed at the end of the Dialogus. For instance, gathering 6 could have been a trinion, and the last gathering a binion. The missing folium would be the first folium of the final binion. This would allow Decembrio two opportunities to believe that the

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lacuna was of six folia. First, he may have assumed that the loss was of a full gathering, and since the preceding gathering was a trinion he may have supposed a trinion to be missing. Second, gathering 6 may have been so numbered, UI, at the bottom of the final verso.48 The same bottom margin may have borne an indication of the lacuna: hie defic or such. The two could have been read together, producing the interpretations deficiunt sex folia of Decembrio and hie desunt sex pagellae of B. But this is all speculation, and other speculation could be offered. I think that it is necessary to state that we do not know, and probably will never know, why Decembrio said that the lacuna was of six folia. What we can say is that internal evidence indicates a lacuna of modest size, while the comparison of the inventories of Niccolo and Decembrio, our only reliable evidence, indicates that the lacuna was of a single folium. This would have contained the equivalent of between 2.5 and 3 Teubner pages, which would have held the end of Messalla's speech and the beginning of Maternus', with perhaps a little banter among the characters in between.49 University of California Berkeley ADDENDUM

Since the above went to press, I have been able to read Domenico Bo, "La lacuna del Dialogus de oratoribus di Tacito," Prometheus 2 (1976) 124-144. Bo's article (supporting a lacuna of one and a half pages in the Hersfeldensis, and of six folia in its majuscule ancestor) is largely a restatement of arguments of earlier scholars, which I have already refuted. He does make a claim that deserves comment: following his "Awaloramento del codice Vindobonense 2960 in relazione al Dialogus de oratoribus di Tacito," AAT 110 (1976) 89-116, he states that codex E is worthless as a witness, since it descends from codex V, with contamination from codex b. I have already above indicated agreeableness to Barwick's suggestion that E's description of the lacuna reflects contamination from b, but I warn that not Barwick nor Bo nor I have proven contamination between these codices. In his article on E (Vind. 2960), Bo seems to start with the assumption that V is a direct copy of the Hersfeldensis: therefore for him every error that E shares with V is evidence that E descends from V, and every correct reading which E shares with other codices versus error in V is evidence that E is contaminated, drawing readings from a descendant of b (it is necessary to postulate a corrected intermediary, since sometimes E is correct where V and b each have separate errors).

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But, as I have pointed out above, V cannot be a direct copy of the Hersfeldensis: since V has errors based on misunderstanding of Renaissance abbreviations, and since it shares some of them with codices of earlier date (which therefore could not have received the errors from V), at least two Renaissance exemplars must intervene (at least three if, as Winterbottom and I believe, an hyparchetype C, intervenes). Further, if editors have reported the readings of E and V correctly, E must be independent of V in descent from for it sometimes reproduces £ more accurately than V: so in 1.3, both EV omit adferrent, but E leaves a space (cf. 2.1 semotae, which both EV omit spatio relicto, showing that the space was transmitted); at 8.4 negleguntur, E has a first stage of error, nec leguntur (= Q, while V has a further corruption, ne deguntur; in 10.8, where expressit has intruded from another context (see Murgia 1, p. 337), EV accurately preserve the archetypal position of the intrusion, after sit (most codices, including b, have an attempted emendation: expressis after quibus), but V has further corrupted expressit through conjecture into et expressit; in 11.1 parantem inquit (Walther), E most accurately transmits the archetypal error parant enim quid, where V has an attempted emendation parent enim quidem, and virtually all other codices (including b) have a different attempt at emendation, parant quid enim (see Murgia 1, p. 336). Since neither contamination nor conjecture could explain E's greater accuracy in transmitting error, these readings indicate that E is independent of V in descent from a common hyparchetype (Q. In order to prove contamination from b, it is necessary to show that E has some reading or feature (or complex of readings or features) that could only have originated in b. The description of the lacuna is the most suspicious. There are also a number of apparent or possible conjectures that E shares with b: 16.2 meas illud (also in y); 17.1 Menenium Evb (me nimium cett.); 19.2 uid(er}etur E 2 b; 21.5 eloquentia\m\, 28.2 nam (in) E 2 b; 30.1 notitia[m]. These readings are all correct, and so necessary and obvious that one would hope that most good scholars could have conjectured them independently. In more controversial conjectures, E and b go their separate ways. For instance, the following conjectures in E are not shared by b: 3.1 ipsum ; 5.7 Marcellus priusquam (prius Marcellus quam codd., Eprius Marcellus quam b2 recte); 22.2 es(seyt; 30.2 decurrens (dicturus Gronovius, de curiis codd.); 40.3 aut Persarum (ac Persarum cett.); 40.3 ullius (illius VBbC). Codex b has an even greater number of unique conjectures. It is therefore not true (despite Bo, AAT, p. 113) that Eb share the same conjectures too consistently for coincidence. It is possible that from about

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chapter 16 on E is contaminated from b (before chapter 16, I see no good evidence of such contamination, and reason to doubt it in blank spaces that E transmits from and which a contaminator would have been likely to fill), but the relation is far from proven. NOTES I cite the following works by author's name: K. Barwick, "Der Dialogus de Oratoribus des Tacitus," BVSA 101 (1954) Heft 4; K. Bringmann, "Aufbau und Absicht des taciteischen Dialogus de oratoribus," MH 27 (1970) 164-178; P. W. Goodhart Gordan, Two Renaissance Book Hunters (New York 1974); A. Gudeman (ed.) Dialogus de oratoribus (Boston 1894), (Leipzig and Berlin 1914); idem, "Two Textual Problems in the Dialogus of Tacitus," CP 7 (1912) 412-419; H. Gugel, "Abermals die grosse Lücke im Dialogus," Symb. Osl. 41 (1966) 115-122; U. Hass-von Reitzenstein, Beiträge zur gattungsgeschichtlichen Interpretation des Dialogus "de oratoribus " (Diss. Cologne 1970); R. Haussier, "Nur eine kleine Lücke im Dialogus," Hermes 91 (1963) 382f; E. Köstermann (ed.) P. Cornelii Taciti Libri Qui Supersunt 2.2 (Leipzig 1964); C. E. Murgia, "The Minor Works of Tacitus: A Study in Textual Criticism," CP 72 (1977) 323-343 ( = Murgia 1); idem, "Loci Conclamati in the Minor Works of Tacitus," CSCA 11 (1978) 159-178 ( = Murgia 2); idem, "Notes on the Dialogus of Tacitus," CP 79 (1979) 245-249 ( = Murgia 3); idem, Prolegomena to Servius 5—The Manuscripts, UCPCS 11 (Berkeley 1975) ( = Proleg.); W. Peterson (ed.) Cornelii Taciti Dialogus de Oratoribus (Oxford 1893); idem, "More about the Dialogus of Tacitus," AJP 35 (1914) 74-80; R. P. Robinson (ed.) The Germania of Tacitus (Middletown 1935); N. Rubinstein, "An Unknown Letter by Jacopo di Poggio Bracciolini on Discoveries of Classical Texts," IMU 1 (1958) 383-400; R. Sabbadini, "II MS. Hersfeldense delle opere minori di Tacito," RFIC 29 (1901) 262-264 (Sabbadini); idem, Le scoperte dei codici latini e greci ne' secoli XIV e XV I (Florence 1905) (Scoperte); D. Schaps, "The Found and Lost Manuscripts of Tacitus' Agricola, " CP 74 (1979) 28-42; R. Till, Handschriftliche Untersuchungen zu Tacitus Agricola und Germania (Berlin-Dahlem 1943); T. Tonelli (ed.) Poggii Epistolae (Florence 1832-1861); K. Vretska, "Das Problem der Lücke und der Secundusrede im Dialogus de oratoribus," Emerita 23 (1954) 182-210; G. Williams, Change and Decline (Berkeley 1978); M. Winterbottom, "The Transmission of Tacitus' Dialogus," Philologus 116 (1972) 114-128; idem et R. M. Ogilvie (edd.) Cornelii Taciti Opera Minora (Oxford 1975). References to the Teubner and to the OCT are to Köstermann and Winterbottom (1975) respectively. I use the sigla of Winterbottom. 1. So Barwick 33-39, followed by Häussler, Bringmann, Hass-von Reitzenstein 109-111 and 119-128, Williams 31. 2. So Gudeman (1912) 412f, Vretska, Gugel. 3. 109-111 and 119-128. 4. 31 n. 66. 5. Both these points were made by Bringmann 165f, in the same year as Hass-von Reitzenstein. 6. There is another lacuna at the end of chapter 37, but this seems much too short to have occupied two columns, and a condition of two separate lacunae is not what our witnesses describe, who all locate the loss of folia or pages at the end of 35. The calculations of space also do not permit such an arrangement of lacunae, since the three Teubner pages occupied by chapters 36-37 constitute too much to fit into one column. They could fit into one folium plus a column, but are more likely to have occupied a single folium. Note that the last two and a half folia of the codex (according to Decembrio's note, cited below) are occupied by seven Teubner pages worth of text, at which rate one folium and a column would correspond to 3.5 Teubner pages; but there can be considerable variation in such proportions, and a single folium might hold anywhere from two to three Teubner pages worth of text. So, though the first four folia of the Agricola filled little more than eight Teubner pages, the last two folia of the Agricola contained over five Teubner pages worth,

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and still had room to consume the last twelve lines of the last folium on an Explicit in uncial script (see the facsimile published by Till, 76v). The rate of seven Teubner pages for two and a half folia (2.8 pages per folium) is the maximum compression attested among the Minor Works. It is not at all unusual for such compression to be observed in the final folia of a work, as scribes seek to make sure that they will finish within the allotted space. I have also noticed a tendency for scribes to use more abbreviations as they approach the end of a work, as if they are in a hurry to be done with their chore. 7. So Robinson 12f, Haussler. The Hersfeldensis is the ninth-century archetype of the Minor Works, of which ten folia (covering the latter part of the Agricola) survive in the codex Aesinas Lat. 8, published in facsimile by Till. No credit should be given to the recent attempt by Schaps to challenge the identification of the ten folia of the Aesinas with the Hersfeld Agricola: Robert Rodgers and I expect to publish shortly a refutation. 8. So Barwick 37. 9. I refer to the note of Decembrio, cited below in full. 10. Gudeman ([1912] 412-416) was himself following Sabbadini. 11. Philologus 115f, OCTviii. 12. Murgia 1, 336f. 13. Barwick 39. Bear in mind however that scribes usually write quattuor as iiii: notice the use of xiiii by both Niccolo and Decembrio in the notes cited below. 14. See Murgia 1, 336. 15. See Murgia 1, 336; conflations not listed there include 26.3 [sicut his clam et\ exclamatio, 29.1 let virides] teneri statim et rudes. For the latter, see Murgia 3, 247-249. 16. Barwick 35, n. 2 (following Mommsen, Herm. 2 [1867] 116, n. 2). 17. I quote from the 1914 edition. The 1894 edition gives deficit for defuit. Gudeman 1912 leaves out hie . . . defuit. I assume that the last citation is the most accurate, although accuracy in a critical apparatus is a lot to expect of Gudeman. 18. Philologus 121f. 19. Barwick 35 n. 1, Robinson 13. Gudeman (1894, 1912, and 1914) provides testimony to some other vacancies: twelve and a half lines in C, eight lines in b, one page in c, one ninth of the treatise in his codex H (Harleianus 2639). The report of H is probably inaccurate. It was extracted from Peterson (1893) lxxxii, but Peterson (1914) 76 changed his estimate to 1/12 of the whole. We are not told how much space was actually left, but Peterson (1893) lxxv claims that the Dialogus occupied ff. 15-42v of H; 1/12 of 28 is 2 1/3 folia. The original estimate would have equalled 3 1/9 folia (approximately sex pagellae). The vagueness and variation in report does not inspire confidence. 20. An argument against this interpretation is the consideration raised in n. 31 below. Another option is mentioned later in this paper. A third possibility is that the scribe read ui pagellae as iii pagellae. 21. The inventory, bearing the title COMMENTARWM NICOLAINICOLI IN PEREGRINATIONE GERMANIE, is found in folia 268v-270r of codex Pierpont Morgan 497, written ca. 1485, probably in Florence. The codex formerly belonged to the Collegio Romano. The inventory was first published by T. de Marinis and Co., Catalog XII (1913) 14-16. I quote Robinson's more accurate text. Excerpts are also given in Schaps 29, where further bibliography may be found. 22. The note is an autograph according to Sabbadini. 23. Emphasis mine. The exclusion of "books which we have" would have prevented Niccolo from listing the Dictys of Crete that is now bound in front of the Aesinas' Agricola, even if it was at that time bound with the Minor Works. Poggio had acquired a codex of Dictys by 1417 (listed as Lucius Septimius in a letter of Francesco Barbaro of 6 July 1417: see Gordan, p. 197, Sabbadini's Scoperte 81). Frontinus' De Aquaeductibus, on the other hand, was not acquired by Poggio until 1429 (see 3.39 Tonelli = 75 Gordan). The Latin text of the relevant part of 3.12 Tonelli has been quoted by Robinson 3f, as have two earlier letters (Robinson 2-3), one by Poggio to Niccolo on 3 November 1425 (2.33 Tonelli = 42 Gordan), and one by Panormita to Guarino of Verona, supposedly of April 1426. These contribute

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no specific information of value for our investigation, but do indicate the availability of a Hersfeld inventory as early as 1425. I take Panormita's source of information to be Poggio, whom I suppose to have sent to Panormita the same excerpt of the monk's inventory that he later sent to Niccolô: as 2.40 and 2.42 Tonelli indicate, Poggio was in friendly correspondence with Panormita at this time. Further information about the inventory may be found in Robinson 2-8. 24. The letter was first published in Rubinstein 397-400. 25. See Robinson 351f. Robinson is surely wrong in claiming that the Hersfeldensis was actually acquired by Poggio, and Jacopo's ignorance of any such discovery, despite his other inaccuracies (see infra n. 26), helps undermine Robinson's arguments. 26. Jacopo cannot mean that Aeneas Sylvius had a hand in the discovery before his election as Pius II, since at the end of the letter he lists Cornelius Tacitus and Suetonius among works discovered after the death of his father (1459), most of them incorrectly assigned. Rubinstein suggests that Jacopo was motivated by a desire to depreciate the efforts of Enoch of Ascoli as a rival to his father in discovering books. If so, the letter is useful in confirming that Poggio himself never managed to acquire the Hersfeldensis, but not useful as evidence about the actual discovery. 27. Most of the following points have been made by Robinson 9-12. 28. As mentioned above (n. 23), the first mention of an inventory is in 1425. We do not know if the monk inspected the codices himself, or brought Poggio an older inventory. 29. See Robinson's comparison, 10-13. Despite Robinson and most editors, there are at least two places where Decembrio's account should be judged superior to the consensus of the MSS. In Germania 16.1, the MSS give inscitia, but probably inscientia was the reading of the Hersfeldensis if, as is likely, it is to this passage that Decembrio refers when he says utitur autem Cornelius hoc uocabulo inscientia non inscitia. In Dial. 36.1, Decembrio quotes rem cogitare, nihil abiectum, nihil humile. The MSS agree on rem cogitare, nihil humile nihil abiectum (except B, which has cogitant for cogitare and uel for the second nihil). Decembrio's order is confirmed by Cicero, Fin. 5.57 nihil abiectum, nihil humile cogitant. The error of the MSS supposes two stages: the accidental omission of nihil abiectum because of saut du même au même, with its insertion indicated by a corrector; then a subsequent scribe's misunderstanding the sign of insertion and placing the omitted words after humile. Possibly B's vel also arose from a previous mistaking of the correction for a variant, but it may be just meddling by B itself, or a misreading. 30. Haussier. 31. Note that even of the Renaissance codices of the Dialogus, many of them specifying long lacunae, and some of them (including V and B) being written on paper (rather than the expensive vellum of a ninth-century MS), no more than one (a vellum codex) leaves more than a folium blank. The one reported exception is Harleianus 2639 (see supra n. 19). Of MSS of the Germania, Robinson reports (85) that his codex o (a paper MS) left five blank leaves after Germ. 13.3 fama (omitting the final thirty-three chapters of the Germania). Some examples of medieval treatment of lacunae may be seen in my Proleg. In plate 6 can be seen the place of a transmitted lacuna noted in codex Metensis 292 (of the ninth century), where no space is left, but the scribe wrote in the margin HIC DEEST (described on p. 77); plate 14 shows the place of another lacuna in the same codex, at the end of line 3, where no indication is given (described on pp. 75ff, 180). On p. 39, I describe a couple of lacunae left and then filled in codex Monacensis Clm 6394 (Xlth century), in which extra space was filled with unrelated text. The fragment of Virg. Gram, at the end of many codices of Servius (described on pp. 93f) must have been added to fill up space in a codex of the early ninth century. On p. 113,1 mention the use of a fragment of Servius de ultimis syllabis to fill a space left at the end of codex Laud. Lat. 117 (Xlth century), after it stopped abruptly within the text of Donatus' Life of Virgil. 32. 74. 33. See Murgia 1, 339. Although, as I have argued, psychological factors influenced the writing of cogi- for togi, and saeu- for sueu-, these factors operate along lines of easy confusions. 34. Robinson (52-73) has, with varying perception, examined the evidence for the ancestry of the Hersfeldensis, and determined that its immediate ancestor was a minuscule codex. He was less sue-

The Length of the Lacuna in Tacitus ' Dialogus

239

cessful in trying to specify the type of minuscule script, and in drawing conclusions about its further ancestry. I have little doubt that the immediate ancestor of the Hersfeldensis was written in Caroline minuscules. 35. Murgia 1, 330, n. 8; Murgia 3, 248, n. 7. 36. Murgia 1, 339. 37. Murgia 1, 342; Murgia 2, 165. Note also at Dial. 23.2 Aufidi the error tuifidi (which I take to be archetypal). 38. Scholars have sometimes been slow to recognize the confusion of t and a in early minuscules, although they are generally familiar with it in the later Beneventan, which inherits and formalizes the cursive features of Merovingian. For instance, E. FrSnkel, in his famous review of volume 2 of the Harvard Servius (JRS 38 [1948] 139), unjustly took the Harvard editors to task for printing Scholl's conjecture Aeoli for the templi transmitted by the Fuldensis of Servius Auctus at Aen. 1.257.15. FrSnkel claimed that "it seems unbelievable that the name of Aeolus, which occurs so often in this book, should have been corrupted like that." So corrupted it was, since the correctness of Aeoli is proven by Servius Auctus at Aen. 1.562.3 nam et in Aeoli oratione statim promittit (parallel to 1.257.15 sane servat et hie ordinem sicut in Aeoli oratione, ut statim promittat ....). The corruption started with confusion of a with t. The Fuldensis preserves a tradition of Servius Auctus that probably reached Fulda from England at or soon after Fulda's founding by a pupil of Boniface in the mid-eighth century (see E. A. Lowe's comments in C.L.A. Supplement, no. 1806, and cf. my Proleg. 71). The Hersfeldensis preserves a tradition similarly centered near Fulda, and since it contained the Agricola, of special interest to the English, a transmission from England is a priori reasonable. Even if the text never passed through England, it would not be unreasonable to expect an Anglo-Saxon scribe of Fulda to have been involved in the transmission. But Insular symptoms are not very strong in the Minor Works (nevertheless, see Murgia 2, n. 6), and, if the descent is through Insular, there must have existed a lengthy period of transmission in continental minuscule to obscure the earlier ancestry. 39. This is particularly true if any of the transmission was through Insular or Merovingian, in which compression and the saving of parchment is the guiding principle. 40. Compare above, n. 31, where Metensis 292 indicated a lacuna with a simple HIC DEEST. Compare also Leidensis B.P.L. 52 of Servius. Copied around A.D. 800 quire by quire from a codex that was missing ten quires (see Proleg. 72-76), it permits easy determination of the length of lacunae since it also copied the signatures numbering the original quires of the exemplar. There is, for instance, a lacuna stretching from Aen. 5.573 to 6.39, occurring between a quaternion signed XXUI and one signed XXUIII. There is no trouble determining that one quire of the exemplar had perished. But a contemporary scribe writes at the end of quire XXUI only this: deest quaternio uel plus de quinto hie et principium sexti. 41. For examples of the behavior of scribes in such circumstances, see my Proleg. 84, 94-96, 106, and plate 15. For what happens when a scribe copies line by line, compare plate 2 with plate 1 (where the procedure is one line into two): the frequent result of this style of copying is the accidental omission of whole lines, and the easy detection of the scribe's procedure when the corrector writes the omitted line at the bottom of the page. The extant quire of the Hersfeldensis gives not the slightest indication of any of these forms of copying. 42. I take Decembrio's words to mean that he examined the codex himself. Those who do not should read "Decembrio's source" every time that I write "Decembrio." 43. Note that, as I have mentioned above, Niccolo's inventory records of Frontinus' text simply Continet hie liber xiii: the word folia is understood. With deficiunt in Decembrio and Q, and defectus in V, the word deficiunt seems more likely than B's desunt. 44. The unio may be seen as folia 69 and 76 of the codex Aesinas, published by Till. The upper script of 69 is the Germania. 45. See supra n. 6. 46. See the chart in Robinson 19. 47. Properly def should mean defuit, but, with an apparent plural following, a scribe could have

240

Charles E. Murgia

interpreted it as deficiunt, and another scribe as des (desunt). If what was visible looked like def ui, the author of the note might have accidentally omitted the last letter of the word (a frequent scribal slip). Another option is that the scribe wrote hie def mtm (defuit multum), and that this was read by some as hie def iii tui (interpreted as deficiunt [or desunt] tres uel sex), and leading to EA's hie deest multum, V's hie est defeetus unius folii cum dimidio (taking it as three pages), B's hie desunt sex pagellae, c's multum deficit, and Decembrio's deficiunt sex folia. But this is a lot of misinterpretation to happen independently, and one would probably need to postulate a scribal tradition leading to Decembrio's note and shared by B. 48. Ninth-century MSS on the continent usually have their quires "signed" in Roman numerals in the center of the lower margin of the quires' final versos. There is no signature visible in the facsimile of the extant quire, but signatures were often lost when folia were cut down at rebinding. 49. I am indebted to my colleagues W. S. Anderson, John M. Dillon, and R. H. Rodgers, and to an anonymous reader for criticism of this paper.

CHARLES E. MURGIA

A Fragment of Servius in San Francisco

On 10 May 1978, the San Francisco bookseller Bernard Rosenthal1 brought to me a fragment of a MS which he had extracted from the binding of an incunabulum, and asked if I could identify the text. The text turned out to be from Servius' commentary on Aen. 8: specifically, the fragment contains the comment on Aen. 8.477 (269.30)2 fortuna omnipotent to 8.484 (270.28) ipsum (recto of first page); Aen. 8.508 (272.13) mille annis to 8.526 (274.14) sonus (verso of first page); portions of the comment on Aen. 8.678 (298.21) egyptum est to (299.13) illo (the left half of the recto of the second page); portions of the comment on Aen. 8.682 (300.12) m hoc dicit. augustus to 8.688 (301.18) Unde bellaturus pompeius (right half of the verso of the second page). The fragment is in two parts, cut from connecting sections of a bifolium, in which only half of the second folium's width was taken. The division between the two parts of the fragment is a horizontal cut, occurring below the tenth line of the upper part, and leaving nine lines in the lower part. The beginnings of the text of the lower part are respectively at 8.479 (270.11) -reniam nominauit, 8.519 (273.6) -piet ducentos, 8.678 (299.5) penatibus, 8.686 (301.10) -RE RVBRO. There is a perfect join between the bottom of the upper part and the top of the lower part, although the upper part preserves about 11 mm. more of the outer margin of the first folium, and so also about 11 mm. less of the text in the more fragmentary second folium. Mr. Rosenthal provides the following information about the provenance of the fragment. 241

242

Charles E. Murgia The binding from which the two Servius fragments were removed is: ANGELUS DE CLAVASIO. Summa angelica de casibus conscientiae. Fol. Nuremberg: Koberger, 1492. —Goff A-722 The binding is certainly contemporary: tooled pigskin over heavy oak boards with blind-tooled ornamentation. I am almost sure it was done in Nuremberg—there's a rubricator's entry dated 1494, and the binding was probably done then.

The measurements are: upper part approximately 301 mm. wide by 57 mm. long; lower part 304 by 53; the normal width of a page of the original MS, to judge by the upper fragment, was about 208 mm.; the normal width of the writing area was about 149 mm. (including 5 mm. for initials). There are about fifty characters per line, written in a clear and graceful Caroline minuscule of the late eleventh century, apparently in a German scriptorium. Lemmas are in rustic capitals, sometimes in red or filled in red: this style is identical with the format of a family of MSS which I have called 03 and to which this fragment belongs. Words are well divided, often by the space of a couple of letters. The scribe held his pen very straight, with maximum shading occurring on or near the vertical stroke, and all the minuscules having a straight up and down appearance, including / and s, which do not descend below the line. The tops of tall ascenders have a pronounced edging. In capitals, O and Q have pinched tops, familiar in eleventh century hands. Capital F has a wavy top, found also in codex O (Laud Lat. 117) of the same family.4 The fragment seems clearly later in date than O, which was written in St. Kilian's in about the middle of the eleventh century.5 This fragment seems to be a descendant of codex A of Servius (Karlsruhe, Badische Landesbibliothek, Cod. Aug. CXVI), a manuscript of the 0 family. A was written in Reichenau in the second half of the ninth century, and was still there when the MSS of Reichenau were transferred to Karlsruhe in the nineteenth century.6 There are three other known descendants of codex A: Glasgow, Hunterian Museum 290 (U.6.8), which we may refer to as codex U: this codex, written in St. Gall, contains comment only on the Eclogues and the Georgics;7 St. Gall, Stiftsbibliothek 861-862 (codex S), which contains comment only on Aen. 6-12, followed by the Donatian Vita of Vergil, and which was written in St. Gall in the end of the ninth century;8 Wolfenbuettel, Herzog-August Bibliothek 2546 (44.23 Aug. Fol.) of the fifteenth century,9 and which in the sixteenth century belonged to a Matthias Schenck. Since I possess no facsimiles of the Wolfenbuettel codex (Gu.), I can supply no information that would determine whether there was any

A Fragment of Servius in San Francisco

243

closer relationship between it and the Rosenthal fragment (though, because of its date, it is obvious that it cannot have been an ancestor of the fragment). Since U never possessed text for the Aeneid, it is equally clear that it cannot have been an ancestor of the fragment, and further comparison is impossible. I do have available facsimiles of four codices, which suffice to indicate the fragment's descent from A: Leidensis B.P.L. 52 (L),10 A, O, and S. These codices (up to 8.664) are related to each other as follows:

8

r

I have used the siglum f for the Rosenthal fragment. After 8.664, LJ, U and their reconstructed source 8, have a lacuna, with the result that for the comment on the rest of Aen. 8 (including the fragment's comment of 8.678-688) the 9 family descends solely from T; before this, it descends from 8, but with contamination from T. To confine ourselves first to the comment on 8.477-526, f shares the following peculiar variants with L0 ( = 8); I cite by page and line of volume 2 of Thilo's edition; lemmas are the readings chosen by Thilo: 270.15 gente Tyrrhenorum] Tyrr(h)enorum gente /LAOS 274.10 alibi . . . ruina om. f LAOS

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Charles E. Murgia

Where not separately cited, S should be understood to agree substantially with A. Another characteristic of 8 shared in this section by f is 5's method of abbreviating lemmas.12 There are two errors shared by f with AO (G) where L is relatively correct: 270.16 Tusci L tuscia fAOS 274.17 supra] s (expunxit) L s.a. fAOS These errors show f to be a member of the 0 family. Also linking f with that family is its format, in which lemmas are written in capitals.13 In T (the source of the other MSS used here by Thilo, which throughout support the readings which I here cite from Thilo) lemmas were in minuscules (except for the first initial); in 5, most accurately reproduced by L, lemmas were mostly in uncials, but the scribe often put part of the lemmas in minuscule:14 so in Aen. 8.522 CORDE, 525 OMNIA, 526 CLANGOR, and elsewhere, L ( = 8) uses minuscules, where fAOS put the entire lemma in rustic capitals. This format is found in all 0 MSS, and in few MSS which do not belong to that family. A special relationship to A is shown by a large number of errors and peculiar readings shared with A or its corrector A2: 270.1 necessitate LOS2 -necessitatem (m expunxit A) fAS 270.13 Hortensio LOS -hensio/A 270.16 0oeiv ] eueiv LOS eueuv/4 1 5 272.13 putant LOS putabant/4 273.4 nam LAOS nam hoc /A2 299.2 in fA2 om. AOS The key that determines that f descends from A is the behavior relative to A2. A2 is a somewhat later corrector of A.16 S normally shows no awareness of A2's corrections (as distinguished from contemporary corrections in A), and it is clear that his corrections are not derived from A's exemplar (so also O is usually ignorant of them). Some of them are quite idiosyncratic (as 273.4 nam hoc), and the combination of a text with A's peculiar errors and A2's peculiar corrections is not likely to have arisen outside of A and its descendants. A2 has also added his own marginal index to A's text: so in the right margin opposite the comment on 479-483 we find in order Cere, Piratica . i. nauale certamen, Tyrreni, Tusci, Lydi, Paralipsis. In the right margin of f in the same section we see the identical index (though part is sometimes lost in the missing end

Plate 1

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A Fragment of Servius in San Francisco

245

of the margin): cere, Piratica., below which survive certam, thyrren, tuscia, lidi, Paralips. Again, this index is not found in L, J, O, S, or for that matter in any other MS that I have inspected. It was not inherited by A with its text type,17 and the combination of this index with A's characteristic text, as found in f, is most reasonably explained by the conclusion that f is a descendant of A. Needless to say, f has also its own peculiar errors, not shared with any other codex: 272.14 ut om.f 274.8 fulgetras] fultras/ 270.7 praeclara LA2OS praeclaro (ut vid.) A praeclaram/ 270.16 arco] o7io / 299.3 ilia] .ilia A alia / 299.6 peregrina] peragrana/ There is one error shared with L, and one with F: 270.17 fratre AOS frater fL 301.17 duxerat AOS dixerat fF The error shared with F is mere coincidence: the writing of dixerat for duxerat is very common. The shared error frater is more troublesome, and is the one serious impediment to assuming that f simply descends from A. I expect that it is also coincidence. An explanation that it was introduced into f's tradition by contamination18 is not convincing, since frater is in context an improbable reading. An explanation that f is basically independent of A is incompatible with the rest of the evidence. The fragment f is then of no value for constituting the text of Servius. It is of interest to the paleographer and to the student of the history of textual transmission. The paleographer is always glad to gain a specimen of writing for which there exist reasonable external bases for determining region of origin. Here we have a fragment descended from a MS which was written in Reichenau, and which may never have left Reichenau in the Middle Ages unless it was borrowed by St. Gall. Since f need not be a direct copy of A, we cannot claim evidence that it was written in Reichenau, and, since I lack familiarity with eleventh-century Reichenau script, I can neither affirm nor deny a possible connection on paleographic grounds. But the evidence does not indicate that it was likely to have been written very far away from Reichenau. It was bound into an incunabulum of Nuremberg. With Germany in its origin, and Germany in its

246

Charles E. Murgia

demise, there is no reason to believe that the fragment was ever outside of Germany (more specifically, the area from Reichenau to Nuremberg) from time of writing until the MS from which it comes was cut up. Texts of the 0 family were very limited in geographic range. France was dominated by the T family," and northern Italy by the y family,20 but there was considerable traveling of the x family south and the y family north.21 The 0 family is limited to a codex from St. Kilian's Wuerzburg (O), one from Reichenau (A), and four descendants of the Reichenau codex: two from St. Gall (S, U), one whose provenance is a German named Matthias Schenck (Gu.), and our fragment found in a binding of Nuremberg. The record does not suggest travel outside a limited area of Southwest Germany and the adjoining area of Switzerland. There are some readings of 0 that seem to have affected by contamination MSS of the y family of Bavaria and Italy. But no pure text that is basically of the 0 family has been located in the Middle Ages outside the regions of Germany mentioned or St. Gall.22 There were in fact three types of text known in Germany in the Middle Ages. In Southeast Bavaria, the MSS were of the y family. Besides Bayerische Staatsbibliothek Clm 6394 (of the eleventh century) from Freising,23 there was also its descendant, housed in the same Bibliothek, Clm 18059, from Tegernsee.24 The area of Fulda was the first part of Germany to know a type of Servian text in the Middle Ages, and that type was Servius Auctus. So Servius Auctus is found in an Anglo-Saxon fragment of the early eighth century in Spangenberg.25 Kassel, Landesbibliothek MS. Poet. Fol. 6 was written in Fulda, and so probably was Paris, BN Lat. 1750; both are MSS of Servius Auctus, and of the ninth century. The purity with which f reproduces codex A is an argument against its being written far from the area of Reichenau's dominance. If the text had traveled to another area, we would expect the codex to show a mixture of readings that dominated in that area—y or is obscured in f by damage to the parchment, but the dot above the o (Y) is clearly visible. As regularly in medieval Latin MSS, Greek is in uncials; I have reported the readings in minuscules for convenience. 16. At least twenty-five years later, as noted above, n. 9. The hand may be observed in the marginal indices of A depicted in Proleg. plates la and lb. 17. Note that A2's index correctly reads tusci, where in the corresponding text (270.16) all 0 MSS have the error tuscia. Actually for tusci ano, 8 read tuscia no. In 8, jto was corrected to ano, creating the conflation tuscia ano. In f, the marginal index was miscorrected to tuscia to agree with its text. The fact that A ! 's index, despite A's text, has tusci suggests that the index was created for a non-0, and even non-S, text. The only alternative is that A1 himself emended tuscia (as could easily be done) without importing the emendation into the text. 18. Contamination is found in the other members of the family. So contamination in S explains some of the instances where S avoids A's errors: see Proleg. (supra n. 3) 108f. 19. The T family is described in Proleg. (supra n. 3) 83-105. 20. The y family is described in Proleg. (supra n. 3) 116-141. 21. E.g. Ambros. C. 157 inf. (saec. X1) of the y family appears on paleographic grounds to have been written in France, or, at least, by a French scribe. See Proleg. (supra n. 3) 119f. 22. A survey of Proleg. (supra n. 3) 45-67 will readily reveal the lack of evidence of contact with 0 in the texts of almost all the MSS which I have examined. For evidence of interpolation from 0 into the y family, see Proleg. 127 at top. 23. Savage (supra n. 7) 195 records the following note on f. lv of this codex in a twelfth-century hand: liber iste sanctae marie sancti corbiniani frisinge. 24. Savage (supra n. 7) 198 records the following note on f. lr of this codex: iste liber pertinet uenerabili monasterio Tegernsee diócesis Frisingensis. He identifies the hand as of the fifteenth century. On the back cover he noted: iste liber est monasterii Tegernsae. For the descent of this codex from Clm 6394, see Proleg. (supra n. 3) 40. 25. Spangenberg Pfarrbibliothek S.N., listed in C.L.A. Supplement 1806: see Proleg. 71. It is dated in C.L.A. to the first half of the eighth century. T.J. Brown (in private conversation) dates it as late seventh to early eighth. Spangenberg is located not far from Fulda, and the Spangenberg fragment is believed to have reached Fulda from southwest England not much if any later than Fulda's founding (mid-eighth century).

WILLIAM H. RACE

The End of Olympia 2: Pindar and the Vulgus

The ending of the Second Olympian Ode (lines 83-100) contains some of the best-known lines in Pindar, but it is also celebrated for the difficulty of its language and sequence of thought. The following attempt to understand the whole passage is far from the last word, but I would suggest that many problems begin with assumptions about Pindar's contempt for the vulgus. For convenience, here is the Greek (Turyn's text with Snell-Maehler's numbering):

85

90

95

noXXA |xoi utt' dyxxovoc; dnc£a Ji£X,r| £v8ov ¿vxi cpap£xpaq (poovdevxa CTUVETOICJIV ¿