California Studies in Classical Antiquity: Volume 6 [Reprint 2019 ed.] 9780520340039

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California Studies in Classical Antiquity Volume 6

CALIFORNIA STUDIES IN CLASSICAL ANTIQUITY Volume

6

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS BERKELEY • LOS ANGELES LONDON

C A L I F O R N I A STUDIES IN CLASSICAL A N T I Q U I T Y

Senior Editors: Ronald Stroud, Norman Austin Advisory Board: Erich S. Gruat, Philip Ltvine, Phillip Damon VOLUME 6

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: 0-520-09498-0 Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 68-26906 University of California Press Berkeley and Los Angeles California University of California Press, Ltd. London, England © 1974 hy The Regents of the University of California Printed in Great Britain

Contents M O R T I M E R CHAMBERS Aristotle on Solon's Reform of Coinage and Weights F R E D E R I C K M. COMBELLACK Three Odyssean Problems R O G E R A. DE LAIX The Silver Coinage of the Aetolian League Plate 1

1

17

47

J O H N M. GLEASON Unused Words as an Index of Style

77

CRAWFORD H. GREENEWALT, J R . "Ephesian Ware" Plates 1-13

91

E R I C H S. G R U E N The Supposed Alliance between Rome and Philip V of Macedon

123

PHILLIP HARDING The Purpose of Isokrates, Archidamos and On the Peace

137

vi

Contente

W. R. JOHNSON The Emotions of Patriotism : Propertius 4.6 MARJORIE C. MACKINTOSH Roman Influences on the Victory Reliefs of Shapur I of Persia Plates 1-10

151

181

R. A. McNEAL The Legacy of Arthur Evans

205

The Provenance of Greek taAAo)

221

JAAN PUHVEL

THOMAS G. ROSENMEYER Design and Execution in Aristotle, Poetics ch. xxv

231

RAPHAEL SEALEY The Origins of Demokratia

253

L. L. THREATTE A Fragment of the Records of the Delian Amphiktyons: IG 112 1641a Plates 1 and 2

297

List of Illustrations de Laix, The Silver Coinage of the Aetolian League PL 1:1 Silver tetradrachm of the Aetolian League. PL 1:2 Silver stater, half-stater, and triobol of the Aetolian League. Greenewalt, "Ephesian Ware" Pl. 1:1 Pl. 1:2 PI. 2:1 PL 2:2 PL 3:1 PL 3:2 Pl. 3:3 Pl. 3:4 Pl. 4:1 Pl. 4:2 Pl. 5:1 PL 5:2 PL 5:3 Pl. 6:1 PL 6:2 Pl. 6 : 3 Pl. 7:1 PL 7:2 PL 7:3 PL 8:1 PL 8:2 Pl. 8:3 PL 9:1 PL 9:2

Profiles of "Ephesian W a r e " rim fragments. "Ephesian W a r e " filling and pattern ornament. "Ephesian W a r e " nos. 1-7 (inside). "Ephesian W a r e " nos. 1-7 (outside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 8 (outside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 9 (outside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 10 (inside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 10 (outside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 12 (inside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 12 reconstructed (inside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 13 (inside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 13 (outside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 13 reconstructed (inside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 14 (inside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 14 (outside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 14 reconstructed (inside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 15 (inside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 15 (outside). " Ephesian Ware " n o . 16 (inside). " Ephesian Ware " no. 17 (inside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 17 (outside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 17 reconstructed (inside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 18 (inside). "Ephesian W a r e " no. 18 (inside).

viii Pl. Pl. PI. PI. PI. PI. Pl. PI. PI. PI. PI. PI. PI. PI. Pl.

List of Illustrations 9:3 9:4 10:1 10:2 10:3 10:4 11:1 11:2 11:3 12:1 12:2 12:3 13:1 13:2 13:3

"Ephesian "Ephesian "Ephesian "Ephesian "Ephesian "Ephesian " Ephesian "Ephesian "Ephesian "Ephesian "Ephesian "Ephesian "Ephesian "Ephesian " Ephesian

Ware" Ware" Ware" Ware" Ware" Ware" Ware " Ware" Ware" Ware" Ware" Ware" Ware" Ware" Ware "

no. 18 (outside). no. 18 reconstructed (outside). no. 19 (inside). no. 19 (outside). no. 23 (outside). no. 24 (outside). no. 20 (inside). no. 20 (outside). no. 20 reconstructed (inside). no. 22 (inside). no. 22 (outside). no. 22 reconstructed (outside). no. 25 (outside). no. 27 (outside). no. 26 (outside).

Mackintosh, Roman Influences on the Victory Reliefs of Shapur I of Persia Pl. 1 Darabgerd Victory Relief (reproduced from W. Hinz, Altiranische Funde und Forschungen [Berlin: de Gruyter, 1969] pl. 77). Pl. 2 Darabgerd relief, detail of right half (reproduced from W. Hinz, Altiranische Funde und Forschungen [Berlin : de Gruyter, 1969] pl. 82). Pl. 3 Bishapur Relief III, central panel (reproduced from W. Hinz, Altiranische Funde und Forschungen [Berlin: de Gruyter, 1969] pl. 105). Pl. 4 Bishapur Relief III, center and right registers (reproduced from A Survey of Persian Art, 7, ed. by A. U. Pope and P. Ackerman [London : Oxford University Press and Tokyo : Meiji-Shobo, 1964] pl. 158B. Photograph by Sarre). Pl. 5 Bishapur Relief II, central panel (reproduced from L. Vanden Berghe, Archéologie del' Irän Ancien [Leiden : Brill, 1966] pi. 77b). PI. 6 Naqsh-i Rustam Victory Relief (reproduced from A Survey of Persian Art, 7, ed. by A. U. Pope and P. Ackerman [London : Oxford University Press and Tokyo: Meiji-Shobo, 1964] pi. 155A; photograph by Sarre). PI. 7 Naqsh-i Rustam Investiture of Ardashir I (reproduced from A Survey of Persian Art, 7, ed. by A. U. Pope and P. Ackerman [London : Oxford University Press and Tokyo : Meiji-Shobo, 1964] pl. 154A; photograph by Herzfeld). Pl. 8 Great Submission from the Column of Trajan (reproduced from I. Ryberg, Panel Reliefs of Marcus Aurelius [New York: Archaeological Institute of America, 1967] pl. XLIV, fig. 45a). PI. 9 Clementia Panel of Marcus Aurelius (reproduced from I. Ryberg, Panel Reliefs of Marcus Aurelius [New York: Archaeological Institute of America, 1967] pl. II, fig. 2a).

List of Illustrations PI. 10

ix

Clementia Panel showing the figures used by the Sassanian artists in Shapur reliefs (adapted from S. Reinach, Répertoire des Reliefs Grecs et Romaines, 1 [Paris: Leroux, 1969] p. 374, no. 1).

Threatte, A Fragment of the Records of the Delian Amphiktyons : IG II 2 1641a. Pl. 1 IG II 2 1641, face a. Pl. 2 IG II 2 1641, face b.

M O R T I M E R CHAMBERS

Aristotle on Solon's Reform of Coinage and Weights Aristotle discusses, in chapter 10 of his Athenaion Politeia (AP), the alleged Solonian reform of Attic measures, weights, and coinage. This problem, perhaps the most controversial in Greek numismatic history, has received excellent investigations from Dr. C. M. Kraay and from the late Professor Konrad Kraft. 1 I believe that more progress is possible. In particular, we must pay more attention to the surviving physical evidence for early Attic coinage and metrology. T H E STRUCTURE OF AP

10

Both Kraft and Kraay have devoted great care to the exact philological interpretation of Aristotle's words and the structure of chapter 10. In the first sentence of the chapter, Aristotle sets the reforms in a chronological framework that includes other acts of Solon. "Now in his laws, it is agreed that he effected the reforms on behalf < See Kraay, "An Interpretation of Ath. Pol. Ch. 10," Essays in Greek Coinage Presented to Stanley Robinson (Oxford 1968) 1-9; Kraft, " Z u r Übersetzung und Interpretation von Aristoteles, Athenaion Politeia, Kap. 10," Jahrbuch für Numismatik und Geldgeschichte 10 (1959/60) 21-46, with enormous bibliography [I refer to this essay as Kraft (1)]; idem, " Z u r solonischen Gewichts- und Münzreform," ibid. 19 (1969) 7-24 [Kraft (2)]. Other important studies are Kraay, " T h e Archaic Owls of Athens," JVC« (1956) 43-68; W. P. Wallace, " T h e Early Coinages of Athens and Euboea," JVC 2 (1962) 23-42, with Kraay's reply, ibid. 417-423; E. J . P. Raven, "Problems of the Earliest Owls of Athens," Essays Robinson 40-58; R. J . Hopper, "Observations on the Wappenmimztn" ibid. 16-39; M. Lang, The Athenian Agora vol. X : Weights, Measures, and Tokens (Princeton 1964).

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of the people that I have enumerated (ravra Soxd delveu STJ/IOTIKCC), having already passed,2 before his legislation, his cancellation of the debts and, after that, 3 his augmentation of the measures and weights and that of the currency." Since Aristotle refers to preceding SrjfioriKa with a demonstrative ravra, it appears that he considered the reforms of chapter 10 as additional SrffioriKa which he did not mention in previous chapters (5-9).4 Evidently he wanted to deal with the political measures thoroughly, as being the most important for his purpose (a history of the constitution). Thus chapter 10 is an appendix, a flashback; and after it he returns to the main theme, Solon's political work: Siaragas 8e RRJV iroXirciav KT\. A S for fiera ravra, some think it means "after the legislation and the cancellation of debts," 5 while others interpret it as "after the cancellation of debts (but before or concurrently with the legislation)."6 I favor the latter interpretation: as Molly Miller points out, it is nonsense to suppose that Solon passed his laws, which are said to have included the division of the people into property-classes, and then revised the measures that established the classes.7 The order of events (as seen by Aristotle) was: cancellation of debts—metrological reforms—legislation. Both Kraft and Kraay suggest, most plausibly, that Aristotle handles the reforms in a definite order. The first sentence of AP 10 mentions the increase of measures, weights, and currency. It is logical to assume that the order in the next sentence is the same as that in the first; but Kraft and Kraay differ over which words describe the increase in the currency. For Kraft, the coinage-reform comes in the final sentence of 10, viz. ¿Troir/ae Se xai aradfia npos TO v6[iiofia KrX., while for Kraay it is in the brief clause ijv 8' o apxalos xaPCLK'rhp SISpaxixov. Here I agree with Kraay as against Kraft; the particles 8e Kal seem to mark off the last sentence of 10 as an additional idea, and to say that Solon "made weights in relation to the currency" 2 I read ironjoos with Wilcken, not iroirjoai (Kenyon et al.): see

TAPA

102 (1971) 43. 3 On the reference of /ura ravra see infra. Kraft (1), 22, on the other hand, thinks that ravra.. . Sij/um/ca indicates that the metrological reforms did not appear " p o p u l a r " to Aristotle. 5 So Kraft (1), 23 and Kraay, 2; both argue that, if the reforms followed only the xpetu» airoKoirq, Aristotle would have written ravrrpi. 6 Hammond, JHS 60 (1940) 75, n. 21. ^ Miller, "Solon's Coinage," Arethma 4 (1971) 34. 4

Aristotle on Solon's Reform of Coinage and Weights

3

8

suggests that "the currency" has already been dealt with. I therefore translate the remainder of 10 as follows: For it was under him that the MEASURES became larger than the Pheidonian ones, and the mina, formerly having a WEIGHT of 70 drachmae, was filled up with the hundred. The previous standard COIN 9 was the didrachm. Furthermore, he established weights in relation to the currency, with 63 minae weighing as much as a talent [lit. weighing the talent], and the three minae [i.e., the three over the usual number, 60] were distributed to the stater and to the other weights. PHEIDONIAN MEASURES

Aristotle and his fourth-century sources knew that in 403 the Athenians had voted to use "the measures and weights of Solon," as prescribed in the decree of Tisamenus (Andocides 1.83-84). The decree must in some way have defined them, perhaps in an appendix that Andocides did not quote. If Solon set up new measures, he must have replaced old ones. Herodotus (6.127.3) says that Pheidon established the measures used in the Peloponnese, and other Greeks accepted the idea that certain measures could be called Pheidonian. Aristotle and/or his sources could easily have inferred that pre-Solonian measures were Pheidonian, and this may be true, even though Herodotus attests Pheidonian measures only for the Peloponnese.10 8 No argument from the particles in AP 10 can be totally convincing, as Kraft (2), 10, somewhat reluctantly admits; but &i KOU do seem a sharper break in the thought than the preceding KOU. ..xai.. .&'. I find unnecessary Kraft's suggestion that ijv.. .SiSpaxfiov may well be a gloss introduced into Aristotle's text: Kraft (2) 9 and n. 6. ' I translate x a P a K r ^P 3 3 "standard or most commonly used coin" and vo/iio/icc as "currency, medium of exchange, coinage." This accords with Aristotle's usage, for example at Nic. Eth. 1133 b, where he discusses how money functions in a society. He uses vo/nopa in such a way that it must mean coinage as a medium: prrpttTai yap vavra yofiionan. The Greek-English Lexicon, s. vv. xaPa'mf/», vofuaiui, also makes the distinction clear. Kraft (2), 11, adequately answers those who, like Milne, CR 57 (1943) 1-3, would translate voiuofia as "most commonly used coin"; elsewhere in his article Milne more sagaciously approves Kenyon's translation, "currency." 10 The question of what Pheidon did and did not do is searchingly studied by W. L. Brown in his important paper, JVC® 6 (1950) 177-204. The tradition that Pheidon issued coins is but fourth-century speculation, but he probably designed measures that were widely used.

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The references that we have to Pheidonian measures indicate that they were smaller than those commonly used during the fourth century. A Delphic inscription from 363 records that the people of Apollonia (probably the Corinthian colony in Illyria) contributed to Delphi some 3,000 Pheidonian measures of grain: but the inscription explains that these equaled only 1875 Delphic measures. 11 Again, Theophrastus (Characters 30.11) portrays his miserly man as distributing food to his servants in Pheidonian measures: evidently they were thought to be smaller than customary Attic measures. 12 Finally, Androtion is cited by Plutarch as saying that Solon decreed a fierpatv eVaufjjaij. 13 He does not, as Plutarch quotes him, state that pre-Solonian measures were Pheidonian, but he could easily have drawn this conclusion and may have expressed it. T H E INCREASE IN THE WEIGHT OF THE M I N A

The next clause concerns weights, in accordance with the order in which Aristotle has listed the reforms. The terms used in Greek metrology can be confusing, because the same words sometimes refer to units of weight and also to units of trade, just as in English a " p o u n d " can mean either a monetary unit of 100 pence or a weight of 16 ounces avoirdupois. Before going farther, we shall clarify these terms. Weights were lumps of bronze, lead, or stone. The basic denominations, of which fractions were also used, were as follows: drachma: a small weight, equal to about 4.5 grams at Athens in the classical period. mina: at Athens, a weight of 100 drachmae, stater: a lump equal to two minae, i.e. about 900 grams. talent: a notional weight, equal to 60 minae. When Greeks began to issue coins, they adopted these names for their units of currency. In classical Athens the scheme was as follows: 11 See M. N. Tod, Greek Historical Inscriptions, vol. 2 (Oxford 1948), no. 140, lines 80-92, from Fouilles de Delphes 3 (5) 3. 12 QuBuivtup is Cobet's emendation of ¿ct&im^i or ¿ctSo/Myqi (MSS). U Solon 15; FGtH 324 F 34.

Aristotle on Solon's Reform of Coinage and Weights

5

drachma: the unit of currency; the earliest Athenian coins were mainly coined in the form of a didrachm, which weighed about 8.6 grams. stater: any " s t a n d a r d " denomination; at Athens the name may have been used for a coin worth four drachmae. mina: a notional sum of 100 drachmae, never a coin. talent: 6000 drachmae or 60 minae, also a notional sum. In order to keep the terms clear, I shall call the drachma used as a weight a weight-drachma and the drachma used in currency a coindrachma; I shall treat the other terms likewise. Speaking now of the aradfxa, Aristotle reports that Solon raised the weight-mina from 70 weight-drachmae to 100. Kraft and Kraay take differing views of this statement. According to Kraft, Aristotle thought that the pre-Solonian weight-mina weighed only as much as 70 fourth-century weight-drachmae, even though it was divided into 100 (lighter) weight-drachmae. T h e putative change, therefore, was to raise the weight of the weight-drachma to the fourthcentury standard. A mina composed of 100 post-Solonian weightdrachmae weighed more than the pre-Solonian mina (as 10 is to 7); thus was the weight-mina "filled up with the hundred." But Kraay believes that Aristotle saw Solon as raising the weight-mina from 70 weight-drachmae to 100, without changing the weight of the drachma: he simply added 30 weight-drachmae to the previous 70. That implies, indeed presupposes, that Aristotle believed that the weight-mina once had 70 drachmae. Kraay finds " a perfectly clear instance of a mina of 70 drachmae . . . at Delphi in the latter part of the fourth century." 1 4 Kraft denies this and holds that we have no good evidence for the existence of any weight-mina containing other than 100 weight-drachmae: any other relationship is only the result of combination among different systems. 15

M Kraay, 5, citing the tables given by Raven, WC* 6 (1950) 4. 15 Kraft (2) 18-20. But M. Crawford, "Solon's Alleged Reform of Weights and Measures," Eirene 10 (1972) 7, n. 7, strongly supports Kraay with other evidence.

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I feel little competence in the matter, and the text of AP 10 is hardly unambiguous: when Aristotle says that the pre-Solonian weight-mina " weighed 70 drachmae and was filled up with the hund r e d " he does not specify whether the increase in weight was brought about by increasing the weight of the weight-drachma (Kraft) or by adding 30 weight-drachmae of the same weight (Kraay). Still, Aristotle does not say that the weight of the drachma was raised—he says that the weight of the mina was raised from 70 to 100 weight-drachmae. He may well have believed that the pre-Solonian mina comprised 70 weight-drachmae, and in our state of knowledge about ancient Greek weight-systems we can hardly rule out the possibility that he did believe it. So, with some hesitation, I follow Kraay's interpretation. By way of analogy, one might imagine that a reformer decided to change the present Troy system of weights, in which 12 ounces make a pound: henceforth it will take 16 ounces of precious metal to make a pound, the ounce remaining the same. 16 We could describe such a putative reform by saying that "the pound was now filled up with the sixteen." Androtion, it is true, took a totally different view, namely that the mina in question was the coin-mina and that it was divided into smaller parts. I shall deal with his opinion infra (PP. A - 9 ) . T H E INCREASE IN THE SIZE OF THE COIN

Next, Aristotle says that "the old [i.e., previous] standard coin was the didrachm." This statement is a little elliptical but was probably clear enough to Aristotle's fourth-century readers, who knew that the standard coin was the tetradrachm. 17 Nor was it necessary l* In fact, the Troy and avoirdupois ounces are a little different, but the analogy is (I hope) acceptable. • 7 After the introduction of owls, didrachms were used sparingly: Kraay, 5. One type of sixth-century Athenian Wappenmunz was a didrachm with a bull on one side: C. Seltman, Athens, its Histoiy and Coinage be/ore the Persian Invasion (Cambridge 1924) 27-29. There was a belief that Theseus had struck bull-didrachms: Philochorus 328 F 200; Plutarch, Theseus 25; Pollux 9.60. Fourth-century antiquarians probably wanted to find a place for Theseus in the history of Attic coinage. This not only honored him but enabled them to view Solon as the great reformer. Aristotle does not expressly support this theory, but we may assume that he implicitly followed it, since he says that Solon altered coinage, not that he made the first Attic coins. In the Polities, 1257 a 31ff, Aristotle says that all societies discover the need for money, so perhaps he believed that Theseus, as the founder of the Athenian polis (AP 41.2), used some kind of money.

Aristotle on Solon's Reform of Coinage and Weights

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to say in so many words that Solon made the change from the didrachm to the tetradrachm, for the context makes it clear that a change in the basic coin took place and that Solon devised the change. This is of course another " i n c r e a s e " : in this case, an increase in the physical size and value of the standard coin. In these words Aristotle explains the "augmentation of the currency," listed in the first sentence of chapter 10 and thus rounds off the three reforms of measures, weights, and coins. T H E INCREASE IN O T H E R W E I G H T S

Down to this point I agree largely with Kraay. His analysis of the last sentence of AP 10 is less convincing, and I venture to offer an alternative that seems more harmonious with Aristotle's general theme of auxesis under Solon. To repeat the translation: Furthermore, he established weights in relation t o 1 8 the currency, with 63 minae weighing as much as a talent (weighing the talent), and the three minae [over the usual number, 60] were distributed to the stater and to the other weights. Kraay understands this to mean that the weight-mina was made 5 percent lighter, so that 63 of them would be required to make up the weight that was formerly made u p by 60. As he says, " T h i s section tells us that the mint was permitted by law to strike coins at a weight 5 per cent lower than their face value; in other words, for every talent of silver brought to the mint for coining, the mint retained three minae to cover its expenses." 1 9 T h e operation would have been as follows. If a weight-talent of silver was brought to the mint to be converted into coins, the mint would turn it into 6300 coin-drachmae. O n a beam scale, these coin-drachmae would balance a weight-talent. But the mint would retain 300 of these coin-drachmae as its fee. The other 6000 would be distributed as coins, but each coin-drachma would be 5 percent lighter than a weight-drachma. 18 T h e uses of npos in the AP a r e clearly exposed in Sandys' Greek index to his edition (London 1893, 21912). H e r e it m e a n s " i n accordance with, measured a g a i n s t " : secundum (Sandys). 1» K r a a y , 7. K r a f t (2), 22, attacks the concept of a m i n t i n g charge, as he h a d done in K r a f t (1), 44. I thank D r . K r a a y for clarifying his views to m e by letter.

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But this interpretation is threatened, one might even say formally contradicted, by Kraay's earlier demonstration that the weight-mina was according to Aristode made heavier when Solon raised it from a weight of 70 weight-drachmae to 100. How then can Aristotle be made to say that the weight-mina was (at the same time ?) made lighter ? Naturally Kraay is aware of this difficulty. His solution is to suggest that "the minae here must be different" from those described earlier in AP 10. Such a suggestion is hard to accept. Aristotle gives no hint that he is now talking about different weight-minae. Even more, the general theme of av^ais—replacing smaller units with larger ones— scarcely harmonizes with Kraay's theory. Finally, Aristode says that the extra three minae ¿7rt8ioa>€firidT]Goa> to the stater and to the other weights. To distribute something is not to take something away. If three minae were distributed to the other weights, then the latter must have become heavier, not lighter. The only view consistent with Aristotle's scheme is to understand that the talent now became heavier. It weighed 63 weight-minae instead of 60. But, as everyone in classical Athens knew, a weight-talent had 60 minae, not 63. The three extra weight-minae, distributed among the weights, made all the weights a little heavier, i.e. by 5 percent. Thus did they absorb these three weight-minae that Solon "distributed" to them. Such, then, is my interpretation, which has required a large expansion, of what Aristotle meant in chapter 10. Everything— weights, measures, standard coin—was increased in size by the Solonian reforms. EVIDENCE OUTSIDE A R I S T O T L E : ANDROTION

I shall now try to test the above conclusions against the other surviving evidence. First, there is Androtion, whom Aristode used in other parts of the AP. Plutarch (Solon 15) says that the Athenians often made harsh matters seem mild by giving them gentle names, as when Solon called his canceling of debts a seisachtheia or disburdenment. Then he mentions the sharply different conception of Androtion. And yet some have written, including Androtion, that Solon pacified and comforted the poor not by a cancella-

Aristotle on Solon's Reform of Coinage and Weights

9

tion of debts but by moderating the rate of interest; and that he gave the name seisachtheia to this piece of kindness and to the accompanying increase of the measures and the valuation [ ?] 2 0 of the coinage. For he made the mina, which previously consisted of 70 21 drachmae, consist of 100, so that the people paid back the same number of coins but paid less in weight; thus the payers were greatly benefited, while the recipients suffered no loss. Evidently Androtion knew the usual interpretation of the so-called seisachtheia, namely an outright cancellation of debts, and wanted to correct it by showing that Solon did not do anything so radical. This view of Androtion's approach is well discussed by Jacoby; Kraay has also demonstrated that Androtion's version of the reform is a product of fourth-century rationalizing. Both Androtion and Aristotle had reason to believe that Solon had raised something from 70 to 100. For Aristotle, this was the number of weight-drachmae in the weight-mina; but for Androtion, it was the number of coin-drachmae in the coin-mina. " I n other words," as Kraay observes, "Aristotle treats the drachma as a weight, whereas Androtion treats it as a coin." Kraay goes on to observe that Androtion "treated early sixth-century Attica as though it were the economically developed state of the mid-fourth century; debts were contracted in silver coins, and the problem could be alleviated by reducing the amount of interest due." 2 2 I therefore reject the version of Androtion. 20 Gomme, JHS 46 (1926) 171, objected to the word ti¡irp/ and suggested that it might be corrupt; rqv TOV vofiiaficcros rifiyv is hardly parallel with rqv TUJV fUrpoiv IIRAV^rioiv. Van Leeuwen, also unable to understand the usual text, proposed RF/V... TWV TC pArpaiv cnav£ijoiv Kat (rrj^y rov vofttofiaros TLiifjs, Mnemosyne?- 19 (1891) 184. Sintenis emended to n/i^s (accepted by Ziegler) and Jacoby to (riji) n/iijt. 21 Reinach, Hermes 63 (1928) 238ff, corrected the MSS text of Plutarch, ifS&onyKovra nal rpiuw ovoav, by postulating that the original reading was cp&opyicovT' ayovocw; this was misread as ¿fS&onjicoirra y ovoav and was then expanded to the reading in the MSS. This brilliant emendation removes the contradiction between Aristotle's " 7 0 " and Androtion's " 73 " and is generally accepted. 22 Kraay, 9. Crawford (supra n. 15) finds no historical validity in chapter 10 so far as concerns any possible action of Solon. H e further holds that both Androtion and Aristotle are saying the same thing and that " there was current in the fourth century one account and one only of Solon's enactment with regard to weights and that according to this account Solon re-divided the mina into 100 instead of 70 d r a c h m a e . " Crawford's view is tenable if we assume (1) that Aristotle conceived Solon as having established 100 new, lighter weight-drachmae for the weight-mina without raising its total weight and (2) that

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Mortimer Chambers T H E CHRONOLOGY OF ATTIC COINAGE

Another kind of evidence outside Aristotle is the history of Attic coinage. Solon was archon, according to credible ancient tradition, in 594/3. 23 But the earliest Attic coins, the Wappenmiinzen (WM) or heraldic coins, are now thought to have begun around 560. If we follow the ancient date for Solon's reforms, i.e. about 594, we have separated Solon from any possible reform of Attic coins. But there is a possible low chronology for Solon's reforms. C. Hignett argued that they took place about 570, and Molly Miller has even dated Solon's archonship to 573/2. 24 Since 570 is close to 560, one might imagine that the Athenians were coining during Solon's political career. But the early W M were mainly didrachms. Only toward the end of the series—about 525-510, depending on which numismatist one follows—did Athenians issue W M tetradrachms. 2 5 About the same time they introduced the tetradrachms with an owl on one side and a head of Athena on the other. The owl tetradrachm became the standard coin; and, as we have seen, Aristotle attributes the increase in the size of the coin to Solon. Therefore even on the low chronology we cannot follow Aristotle; as Kraay says, " t h e measures concerning the coinage cannot be Solonian." 2 6 T H E RISE IN WEIGHTS

In the last sentence of chapter 10, Aristotle says that Solon made weights " i n relation to the currency"; and that he made weights Aristotle saw these 100 new weight-drachmae as the basis for new, lighter coin-drachmae. I prefer, however, the other interpretation, i.e., that Aristotle thought of Solon as having made the weight-mina heavier, whether by establishing 100 heavier weight-drachmae for it (Kraft) or by adding 30 weight-drachmae to it (Kraay). Since we do not know what other accounts may have existed in the fourth century, we can hardly say that there was only one. But it is true that Androtion was Aristotle's usual source for his data and I can well imagine the following history of the transmission. Androtion reported that Solon raised the coin-mina from 70 to 100 (lighter) coindrachmae, thus shielding Solon from the imputation of such a radical action as canceling debts. Aristotle accepted the figures 70 and 100, but reinterpreted them into a system whereby the statesman augmented the weight of the weight-mina by adding to it 30 weight-drachmae —thus "saving the phenomena" by this more sensible interpretation. 23 Cadoux, JHS 68 (1948) 93-99. 24 C. Hignett, A History of the Athenian Constitution (Oxford 1952 ) 316-321; Miller, " T h e Accepted Date for Solon: Precise, but Wrong?", Arethusa 2 (1969) 62-86. 25 For this date, see Raven (supra n. 3); it is close to those suggested by Kraay and Wallace. 2® Kraay (supra n. 1) 7.

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heavier by 5 percent. The study of Attic weights, including the relation between commercial weights and Attic coins, has been much facilitated by the work of Professor Mabel Lang. I differ with some of her historical views but have nothing but praise for her frequency table listing the known examples of various weights.27 In the subsequent discussion we shall be concerned mainly with the commercial or weight-staters and their relation to the weight of coins. The weight-stater stood in a certain mathematical relationship to the physical weight of Greek coins. In some Greek numismatic systems—perhaps this was the normal arrangement, but it was probably not universal—a weight-stater (a lump often marked ETATEP) weighed about 200 times as much as a one-drachma coin, or 100 times as much as a didrachm. This relationship is easily seen in the coinage of Samos.28 But, so far as our evidence shows, Athenian weight-staters and coins did not at first conform to this usual proportion. The early WM weighed most often 8.4 or 8.5 grams to a didrachm, and even 8.6 is fairly common.29 If the normal proportion obtained between the weight-stater and the coin, we should expect early Attic staters to weigh 840-860 grams. The oldest known Attic weight-stater is a bronze weight found at the bottom of a well. It is marked ETATEP and also bears the words AEMOEION A&ENAION: evidently an official weight. Professor Lang dates this stater to about 500, but the letter-forms are compatible with a date even as early as 520.30 It weighs 795 grams.31 Along with it were found two other weights, a one-sixth stater and a quarter stater. The former weighs 126 grams, the latter 190; thus they suggest staters of 756 and 760 grams. We may infer that Athenians were using a weight-stater of rather less than 800 grams in the period 520-500. This stater did not equal 100 didrachms in weight. Evidently the normal 100 to 1 ratio had not been established. 27 Supra n. 1. 21 J . P. Barron, The Silver Coins ojSamos (London 1966) 7 and n. 1. 2» Hopper (supra n. 1) 37. 30 Published by T. L. Shear, Hesptria 7 (1938) 362. For the date I suggest, I rely on the historical analysis of letter-forms in L. H. Jeffery, The Local Scripts of Archaic Greece (Oxford 1961) 66ff, but I recognize that dating such objects by letter-forms cannot pretend to be exact. 31 Shear said that the stater weighed 810 grams, but Rodney Young and Mabel Lang weighed the piece independently, several years apart, and obtained 795 grams, which I accept. Perhaps Shear weighed the stater before it was thoroughly cleaned. I also accept Lang's weights for the two smaller pieces found with the stater.

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A little later, Athens did use a stater of the expected 860 grams. The evidence for the existence of this stater was published long ago by Erich Pernice.32 A bronze weight was inscribed EMI\ETA\TEPONH and bore the same words as the older one, AEMOZION A9ENAI0N. It weighs 426.63 grams, but Pernice pointed out (p. 31) that it had lost a little weight from the head of a dolphin carved on it and probably once weighed a little more. Since this is a half-stater, we may estimate the full stater at 860 grams. This estimate is supported by another weight in Pernice's catalogue, a one-twelfth stater, weighing 71.42 grams and suggesting a stater of about 857 grams—very close to 860.3-» This new, heavier stater did weigh as much as 100 didrachms; thus the normal ratio was obtained. We cannot date these staters precisely by means of letter-forms, but some suggestions are possible. Probably when the old stater of ca. 800 grams became obsolete it was thrown down the well from which Shear recovered it in 1938. Perhaps this was a little before 500—-just when the WM were giving way to the owls that were to dominate Attic coinage. I suggest that the increase in the weight of the stater was contemporaneous with the introduction of owls: this was a convenient time to bring the weight of the stater and that of the coins into the classical ratio of 100 didrachms to one weight-stater (in effect, Athens stopped coining didrachms, so the stater may have been measured against 200 coin-drachmae or 50 tetradrachms). But this was not the end of reforming the weight-stater. Lang's table shows that it could range all the way up to nearly 1600 grams. Amid all the ups and downs, there is a concentration of existing specimens around 900 grams. Lang lists 69 staters between 900 and 920 grams, 51 in the 880-900 range, and 40 in the 920-940 range. These are the three largest groups and they indicate a stater of 900-920 grams as the one most commonly used. Can this weight-stater of 900-920 grams be brought into any relation to a coin-drachma weighing about 4.3 grams? Professor Lang is undoubtedly right in concluding that this stater was intended to equal 105 didrachms in weight. It is immediately striking that a 32

Griechischt GtwichU (Berlin 1894), especially the catalogue, pp. 81ff, where the stater is No. 1. It is listed in IG 12 917, with further references. « Pernice read the letters as EMIZYIEPON. Pernice, weight No. 4.

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weight of 105 didrachms is an increase of 5 percent over the normal weight of a stater (viz. the weight of 100 didrachms). Here, then, is an increase of 5 percent in weights "in relation to the currency," the same increase that Aristotle ascribes to Solon. The didrachm weighed about 8.6 grams, and 105 of these weighed 903 grams, a weight clearly reconcilable with the most common weight-staters of 900-920 grams. The previously used stater weighed about 860 grams; an increase of 5 percent of course brings it to about 903. Aristotle was therefore right in saying that, at some time, Attic commercial weights were raised by 5 percent. He chose to describe the increase by saying that the talent was raised in weight from 60 to 63 minae, but he might equally well have said that the weight-stater or the weight-mina was raised. All these weights are linked to one another, and they rise or decline together. Perhaps Aristotle expressed the rise in terms of the talent because that was the biggest weight. Is there any parallel for a deliberate rise in commercial weights ? At this point we must examine a Hellenistic inscription that has long played a part in the study of Attic coinage.35 This document, from the second century B.C., orders that the weight-mina is to be increased. Formerly it was equal in weight to 138 one-drachma coins but now it is to weigh as much as 150 such coins.36 This is a rise of approximately one-twelfth in the weight of the weight-mina (a twelfth of 138 is 11.5; but instead of fixing the new weight at 149.5 coindrachmae the Athenians rounded it off to the convenient 150).37 The inscription also orders that the weight-talent be raised from 60 to 65 weight-minae: that is, the talent will go up by one-twelfth. Presumably the heavier talent was then once more thought of as comprising 60 minae. Aristotle might have described this rise in weights by using the language otAP 10: "They made weights in relation to the currency, with 65 minae weighing the talent, and the five [extra] minae were distributed to the stater and to the other weights." The Hellenistic inscription shows that Athenians could revise their weights and could express the revision in terms of the 35 IG 112 1013, lines 29-37. See Lang (supra n. 3) 3. These are the "drachmae of Stephanephoros," which are Attic New Style coins bearing a wreath. 37 In lines 33-34, another order is given that has caused some difficulty: the 5-mina weight is to receive an additional mina. But why (it has been asked) should this weight be thus adjusted ? I suggest that this was a way of abolishing the 5-mina weight and of establishing a 6-mina weight in its place. 36

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weight of coins. How did Aristotle learn of the 5 percent rise in weights that he cites in AP 10? Probably not from Androtion: the whole direction of Androtion's argument, as quoted by Plutarch, is that Solon did not raise weights but simply redivided the coin-mina into smaller parts. Still, we do not have Androtion's work, and we must leave open the possibility that he discussed the rise in weights. Perhaps Cleidemus described these reforms, but even if we assume this we must still ask how fourth-century historians could have known what Solon did. Leaving Androtion and Cleidemus aside, there remain two possible ways in which Aristode could have informed himself: 1. Aristotle or his pupils did research into Attic weights by using contemporary evidence. 2. Some public document recorded that there was to be a rise in weights, making them 5 percent heavier than the previous 100-to-l ratio against the weight of a didrachm. Possibility 1 seems at first reasonable. Aristotle could have seen examples of 860-gram staters and could have compared them with 900-920 gram staters. He could have observed for himself that staters had become heavier by some 5 percent over a period of time. But, since staters were not always precise in weight, it is not certain that he would have been able to infer that the increase was exactly 5 percent. He might not have come to this conclusion if he worked with, say, a stater of 855 grams and one of 918 grams. So it is better to seek, even if conjecturally, some document that recorded an officially decreed rise of 5 percent in weights. We must therefore examine possibility 2. We know of one time in the classical period when Athenians made a public resolution about weights: this is of course the occasion in 403 when the decree of Tisamenus required them to use the weights and measures of Solon. 38 It is not clear from the language of this decree whether the proposer believed that the preceding government, that of the Thirty, had tampered with "Solonian" standards, which therefore would have to be restored, or whether "Solonian" standards had been in use for some time without serious interruption. In either case, the nomoi of Solon and thesmoi of Draco are recommended for use; they were traditional, time-honored, and suitable to a reestablished democracy. So too with the weights and measures: it is quite possible, even probable, that 38 See Andocides 1.83-84.

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Tisamenus was not trying to propose anything new. The second sentence of the decree prescribes that nomothetai are to provide whatever additional legislation is needed. But, even if Tisamenus was only restoring Solonian weights and measures unchanged, we may assume that the decree was accompanied by detailed instructions about what the weights and measures were. As a parallel, we may refer to Lysias, oration 30, in which it is recorded that Nicomachus was commissioned in 410 to publish the laws of Solon. A result of his work was the detailed Athenian sacrificial calendar, a great inscription that defined the religious practices that passed as Solonian. T h a t does not mean that he was ordered to devise new practices; people simply wanted the correct procedures stated for public reference. I suggest that some document, perhaps an inscription, was drawn up in 403 in order to inform Athenians about the weights that they were to use (or resume using). These weights were believed to be, and were called, the weights of Solon. 39 This document will have specified that the weight-mina was to equal 105 coin-drachmae in weight. Such a relationship may have existed before 403 or may now have been stated for the first time. In either case, it was recorded for the public. Aristotle probably knew systems in which the weight-mina weighed as much as 100 coin-drachmae and a weight-stater weighed as much as 100 didrachms. Thus he had evidence for thinking that the Solonian weights were 5 percent heavier than those previously used. I also infer that the document of403 stated that 63 weight-minae should weigh as much as a weight-talent—just as the later inscription, IG I I 2 1013, said that the weight-talent was to weigh 65 weight-minae. This new equivalent—63, not 60—duly found its way into chapter 10. T H E PROBABLE HISTORICAL FACTS

Now that we have worked out an interpretation of chapter 10 and suggested a possible source for Aristotle's statements in the last sentence, it remains to estimate what, if anything, Solon actually did with respect to measures, weights, and coins. It seems quite credible that he abolished the Pheidonian measures (or whatever ones Athenians had been using) in favor of new 39

I suggested supra, p. 3, that the Tisamenus decree, or some document connected with it, also defined the measures of Solon; perhaps both measures and weights were defined together.

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ones; this would make a suitable accompaniment to his division of Athenians according to the measured produce of their land. One may also accept that he revised the weight-mina upward so that it weighed 100 weight-drachmae; as Kraay says, such a mina was surely more convenient than one of 70 weight-drachmae. Androtion or his source misunderstood this reform and trivialized it into a redivision of the coin-mina into 100 smaller coin-drachmae. Androtion also found here the celebrated seisachtheia, but Aristotle rightly identified this with a cancellation of debts. In fact, Aristotle may be deliberately replying to Androtion when he says that the cancellation of debts was Solon's first act and that the metrological reforms came later; such a view would separate the seisachtheia from the latter reforms, against Androtion's attempt to identify them. 40 Solon did not, despite Aristode, augment the standard coin from a didrachm to a tetradrachm. By adopting a low chronology for his reforms, we could make him active during the early years of the Wappenmunzen coinage—but Aristotle goes, unacceptably, much farther. Finally, Solon did not make new weights " i n relation to the currency." Attic coinage was in its infancy during Solon's career if it existed at all. Quite possibly Athenians were using some form of coinage, a non-Attic one, but the increase of weights by 5 percent against the weight of coins came much later than Solon. We cannot date this change securely; but it is likely enough that such an equation was stated in or about 403, when the decree of Tisamenus bade the Athenians use the weights of Solon. The mina was to equal 105 coindrachmae in weight, and this 5 percent rise from the norm, ascribed to Solon, suggested to Aristotle that Solon had raised weights irpos TO wfyiio/xa.41 University of California Los Angeles 40 1 doubt whether Aristotle (or any fourth-century writer such as Cleidemus or Androtion) could have discovered the order in which Solon enacted his reforms. How then did Aristotle dare to assert that the xpcu»> anotcomj came first ? I find most attractive Jacoby's suggestion (FGrH Supplement 2.133, n. 20) that Aristotle found confirmation for his statement in the fact that the archon proclaimed, at the beginning of his year in office, that " whatever property anyone had, he should hold and control it until the archon left office " (AP 56.2). Perhaps Aristotle thought that Solon's first act as archon was to make a similar proclamation, using the occasion to cancel debts (AP 6.1). 41 I thank Professors E. Badian, J . P. Barron, A. L. Boegehold, M. Lang, C. G. Starr, and R. S. Stroud for their advice. That does not imply their agreement with any of my views.

FREDERICK M. COMBELLACK

Three Odyssean Problems The problems I propose to discuss here are of quite different types, but they have one or two points in common. For one thing, all arise in the second half of the Odyssey. For another, I shall not solve any of these problems. My purpose is a much more modest one. I shall try to state as clearly as I can what the real difficulties seem to me to be, to eliminate some earlier misconceptions, and to show why earlier solutions seem to me unsatisfactory. I . THE REMOVAL OF THE ARMS

Perhaps the most formidable problem in the Odyssey is that constituted by the two passages dealing with the arms which decorated the walls of the great hall of Odysseus. W. J . Woodhouse, The Composition of Homer's Odyssey (Oxford, 1930) 158. In Book 16 of the Odyssey, Homer tells of the plans which were made for removing from the walls of Odysseus' megaron the arms which hung there, and in Book 19 he describes their removal. Peculiarities in his narrative have aroused a long series of comments and criticisms from ancient times up to the present. The best recent discussion of the episode (and one of the best that it has ever received) is in Denys Page's The Homeric Odyssey (Oxford 1955) 92-98. Page

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writes, of course, from the Analytical point of view, but he emphasizes that there is only a limited realm in which confident conclusions and reconstructions are possible. It is not my intention here to examine and refute in detail the many and varied objections which have been made to this episode. Moreover, while I shall suggest what seem to me adequate answers to some of the main points raised by the advocates of athetesis, I shall raise one difficulty which seems to me at least curious if not serious but which has apparently not much concerned others. My object is simply to discuss the episode, to set forth the facts and the justifiable inferences in the narrative, to examine as fairly as I can arguments which have been offered pro and con, and to try to clear away as much as possible of what is unlikely, false, or invalid. It is my hope that such a summary and synthesis may possibly serve as a basis upon which someone can someday construct an explanation of all the phenomena which will win general acceptance. In Book 16, after Odysseus has identified himself to Telemachus in Eumaeus' hut, he gives the following order to Telemachus: Whenever the counselor Athena suggests it to my nimble wits, I'll nod my head to you, and when you notice it you take quite all the implements of war which are in the great hall and stow them in the inner corner of a storeroom. And when the suitors miss the arms and ask about them, you speak to them with soft words: " I stowed them out of the smoke, because they don't any longer look like the equipment Odysseus left behind when he went to Troy. Where the fumes of the fire reach them, they are stained. And besides the son of Cronos put this more important idea in my mind. You may, in a fit of drunkenness, start a fight among yourselves, injure one another, and disgrace your feasting and your wooing. Because iron of itself draws a man." But just for the two of us, leave behind two swords, two spears, and two shields, so that we may rush and take them in our hands. (282-294) Book 19 opens with the execution of this plan. The circumstances in which the plan is carried out are different from those

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that Odysseus seems to have imagined. He said in Book 16 that he would nod to Telemachus and that Telemachus would then remove the arms. Here they talk of the plan and execute it together. But there is no reason why Odysseus should have expected that he and Telemachus would be left alone in the hall the next night. 1 Apart from this insignificant detail, however, there are discrepancies between the planning in Book 16 and the execution in 19 that have seemed so serious as to cause many to believe that the whole episode, as treated in both books, is an interpolation. I am not sure that all of the objections that have been raised against the episode can be satisfactorily answered, but some points suggest themselves: First of all, the removal of the arms is absolutely vital for the plot if, as I think we may justly assume, Homer's audience would have imagined them as a standard element in the furnishings of a baronial hall. To judge by Herodotus' account of Croesus and his son (1.34.3), the practice of having arms hanging on the walls of a gentleman's great hall continued long after Homer's time, at least in Asia Minor. 2 The objections of the Alexandrians 3 result from their having forgotten this. There is no difficulty, then, in the fact of the removal of the arms; such difficulties as arise come from Homer's manner of handling their removal. Granting that their removal is essential if Odysseus' success against the suitors is to be even faintly credible, we may also fairly 1 Page argues that the way in which the arms are removed in Book 19 "is certainly not what the poet intended in Book Sixteen" (Homeric Odyssey, 94). This inference is not, I think, altogether justifiable. The situation described in Book 16 is not set forth by the poet in his own person; it is put into the mouth of Odysseus. Odysseus might well have imagined, at the time of the conversation with Telemachus in Book 16, that the circumstances would be those he describes. His sensible expectations are not necessarily those of the poet. Eustathius, indeed, saw deliberate didactic purpose in the fact that plan and execution do not correspond: " T h e poet is explaining here again, as he has often done elsewhere, that when we make our plans ahead of time, things turn out differently." 2 The evidence sometimes cited from Alcaeus is somewhat less clear. (For the text and full commentary, see D. Page, Sappho and Alcaeus [Oxford 1955] 209-223.) The phrase megas domos might possibly suggest that this is not, as some have assumed, a description of arms in a storeroom, but, while some objects are on pegs, others have been thrown down, presumably on the floor. Whatever the setting, therefore, the poem describes something different from the arms on the walls of Odysseus' palace. 3 See Scholia H., O., Vind. 133 on 16.281, on p. 629 of Scholia graeca in Homeri Odysseam, ed. G. Dindorf, 2 vols. (Oxford 1955], Dindorf also gives in a footnote a relevant quotation from Eustathius.

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argue that it is altogether fit and proper for so wary and skillful a tactician as Odysseus to make plans in advance for removing them. The obvious person to share in this plan is his son, particularly since, at this stage in the story, Telemachus is the only person on Ithaca who knows who the stranger is. The obvious time for making the plan is when he and Telemachus are alone in the hut, since Odysseus cannot know when another opportunity such as this will arise. Then again, Odysseus (and Homer's audience) might legitimately assume that the absence of the arms would be quickly noticed by the suitors even if they were not present during the removal. It is therefore quite natural that Odysseus, the wary and skillful planner, should prepare in advance a plausible explanation to be given to them. Telemachus, again, is the natural one to give the explanation, since the beggar himself cannot plausibly do so. Indeed, Odysseus cannot foresee that he will himself have any part in the removal at all. All this, I should say, is completely sensible and logical, and of considerable importance, and it is all in Homer's narrative in Book 16. From this point on, however, difficulties begin to appear. I shall concentrate on what seem to me the five main difficulties. (I disregard throughout arguments based on peculiarities of language. Such linguistic abnormalities as have been stressed by critics would seem to be relatively minor in number and nature.) 1. Why are Odysseus' instructions to Telemachus about the explanation he is to give the suitors related twice, once in Eumaeus' hut (16.286-294), two days before the slaughter, and once in Odysseus' palace (19.5-13), the next night? 2. Why, after all these elaborate and repeated preparations for dealing with the suspicious questions of the suitors, do the suitors fail to notice that the arms are gone (until the slaughter actually begins) and hence ask no questions about them ? 3. Why, after it is arranged in Eumaeus' hut, when the matter is first discussed, that some weapons will be left behind for Odysseus and Telemachus, is this eminently sensible arrangement silently abandoned when the removal is carried out the next night? 4. Why, when the removal takes place, are the maids carefully shut out of the great hall ? We may further choose to marvel that Telemachus gives this order without any suggestion from his

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father. Does this mean that the reason for the action was self-evident and such as would occur to anyone ? 5. What are we to make of the rack of spears mentioned by Homer in Book 1 (127-129) ? Of these difficulties, the first three have long and greatly impressed a host of Analysts and athetizers. The fourth one, which rather troubles me, has received litde, if any, attention. The last, when it has been noticed at all, has, to say the least, produced some odd and inadequate comments. What may be said about these five difficulties, if we assume that the Odyssey, including this episode, is the work of a single great poet and not the product of a committee or a series of poets ranging in ability from great to hopelessly incompetent ? 1 First, what of the objection that Odysseus should not give the instructions twice ? Since the removal of the weapons is essential to the success of Odysseus' triumph over the suitors, it is natural for him to make plans about it in advance. Moreover, it is a matter that can be dealt with ahead of time and requires no more knowledge of the situation in the palace than Odysseus already has when he talks to Telemachus in Eumaeus' hut. The Analytical argument that the plans are made too soon has, therefore, no weight. When the actual removal takes place next evening, Odysseus must obviously say something to Telemachus as they set about their task. What is he to say? "Telemachus, we've got to move these arms out of here. And when the suitors ask about them, you be sure to tell them what I told you yesterday in Eumaeus' h u t " ? Or is he to say what he does in the Odyssey: "Telemachus, we've got to move these arms out of here. And when the suitors ask about them, you say . . .," repeating what he said the day before? I should think that nearly all critics would grant nowadays that the second method, though it may not be the way of the modern novelist, is much more in accord with the normal technique of the Homeric poems. 2 What of the fact that, after having twice made careful and precise arrangements for dealing with the suitors' questions, Homer

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then has the suitors ask no questions and so gives Telemachus no chance to use his carefully prepared answer? I am not sure that there is any way of getting around this difficulty entirely—at least for the modern critical reader. To what extent the casual reader notices it today, I do not know. Still less can we feel confident of the extent to which the ancient audience noticed it. We may truthfully say that in real life the suitors might have failed to notice the change in the hall's appearance. It must be a rare modern husband who has not at least once failed to notice some considerable change that his wife has made in the decor of their living room. And we are all aware of similar obtuseness of friends in our houses and of ourselves in theirs. But for all that, we like our literature to be more plausible than life. In fiction when the husband and wife have been twice described carefully rehearsing what they will say when the guests notice and speak of the new Danish furniture, we expect either that they will carry out their plans or that some point will be made about the guests' failure to notice it. The matter should not be elaborately introduced and then dropped. As Chekhov, I believe, put it, " If in the first act you hang a pistol on the wall, then in the last act it must be shot off." One consideration can be noted, however, which tells against the notion that the episode is not by Homer. This passage does not stand alone; it shows a technique that Homer uses elsewhere. To the unfriendly critic, of course, arguing along these lines is to make use of the notorious Unitarian absurdity, The Bungling Poet. Such a critic would feel that, when Homer is accused of nodding somewhere, it is a remarkably strange defense to say, " O h , Homer isn't nodding here. He nods all the time." But the perfect poet is one of those pervasive phantoms of the Analysts. Tried before their strict tribunal, all great poets must plead guilty of bungling. This fact may help to explain in part why it is that very few poets who have expressed a view on the Homeric Question have been Analysts. This particular oddity in the episode of the removal of the arms arises, I suspect, from Homer's tendency to abandon motifs (and characters) once they have served the purpose he had in mind when he introduced them. His object in the present affair is the essential one of getting the arms out of the hall. He clearly felt further that plausibility would require a man as shrewd as Odysseus to make plans in advance for dealing with awkward questions that he might well

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expect to arise. Having done so much, he devotes himself to other aspects of the exciting climax of his poem and does not choose to have the questions arise. As it happens, we have already had earlier in the Odyssey quite a good parallel: the handling of the ambush that the suitors set for Telemachus. 4 Much is made of this ambush and great, indeed divine, pains are taken to see to it that Telemachus escapes. But, on the return from Pylos, his ship goes to the town of Ithaca with, apparently, no especial protection or precautions and is just rowed quickly and safely into the harbor. In a way this is silly; it is bungling. But it is thoroughly Homeric. Homer, having endangered Telemachus by the ambush and then saved him from it, now has no further interest in it. The ambush had served its purpose; it made Telemachus' journey a bit more exciting for us, perhaps, and, above all, it contributed appreciably to Homer's picture of the suitors as a gang of murderous thugs who deserve killing. Homer does not care, therefore, to take the time to tell just how the ship in which Telemachus might be supposed to be riding got away from the most carefully prepared and maintained ambush; he merely reports the angry and chagrined return of the suitors to town. So with the removal of the arms. Homer's purpose has been attained; he has got rid of the weapons, and he has shown his hero making appropriately shrewd plans for possible contingencies. And once the incident has served its purpose, Homer feels no interest in rounding it off by telling us that the suitors asked about the arms and that Telemachus recited his little speech already recited to him twice by Odysseus. But all these considerations are of little moment compared with the fact that Homer derives a great artistic advantage from the failure of the suitors to ask questions about the arms when they arrive at the palace: there is a splendidly dramatic moment at the beginning of Book 22, after the beggar has shot Antinous through the throat and he has crashed to the floor: "And the suitors raised a din through the halls, when they saw the man fallen, and they jumped from their chairs and rushed through the room, peering everywhere at the wellbuilt walls. But there was no shield anywhere nor any spear to take." Logically, the suitors should have noticed that the arms were gone from the walls when they arrived at the palace; dramatically, the later 4

This parallel will, of course, seem to Analysts to support their views about the removal of the arms, because they usually regard the ambush also with grave suspicion.

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moment, and this alone, is the proper one. And this highly effective climax would have been impossible if the suitors had acted logically and the poet had already narrated the sort of scene that seems to be foreshadowed by Odysseus' instructions to Telemachus. Critics may argue the question whether the result justifies the technique, they may or may not feel that the poet has consciously told his story as he did in order to produce this result. But the result is there, and I should think no critic could fail to find it admirable. Kirchhoff {Die Homerische Odyssee [Berlin 1879] 582) and Page both object that the suitors ought not to be looking for arms while they still think the shooting of Antinous was an accident. I cannot see the force of this objection. I should think a group of young men without shields or missiles might well be eager to get some when faced with a careless fellow who has a deadly bow in his hands. One feature in Homer's account of Odysseus in the cave of Polyphemus provides a good parallel to his technique in postponing the suitors' discovery that the arms are gone (9.236-251). When Odysseus and his men catch their first sight of the monstrous Cyclops, they scuttle into a corner of the cave and crouch there in terror. Then for fourteen lines they (and we) watch the monster driving in his animals, putting the great stone across the entrance, milking his sheep and goats, and dividing the milk into one portion for cheese and one portion to drink with his supper. Only then does he light a fire and in the sudden brightness catch sight of the cowering, terrified Ithacans. Clearly, from one point of view this is the perfect moment for him to notice them, after they have been left all this time in dreadful suspense. Logically, Polyphemus should have lit his fire at once in order to have light for doing his chores. Indeed, the next morning he sensibly lights his fire before he milks the animals. In this scene, as in the removal of the arms, the desire to bring on the "recognition" at the dramatically appropriate moment has taken precedence over the demands of prosaic logic. It is this same desire that has produced another illogicality in the narrative. The really startling thing is not that the suitors failed to notice the absence of the arms from the walls, but that Penelope did not notice the change when she came into the room just after the arms had been taken away. Obviously, Homer is willing to pay a high price in order to postpone the recognition until the dramatically correct moment. It may be noted, too, that Odysseus has made no plans for

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dealing with the questions he might logically have expected Penelope to ask. Is this another oddity resulting from a form of the story in which Penelope was involved in the plot to kill the suitors ? 3 The third difficulty, the failure to leave for Telemachus and Odysseus a pair of swords, spears, and shields when putting away the arms, though it may not be noticed by the average modern reader, may, once it has been pointed out, seem a serious difficulty even to the unprejudiced observer.5 Has Homer, within the short space of three books, forgotten the precise sequence of his own story ? It is true that the original plans of Book 16, which were sensible enough with the knowledge Odysseus had at that time, would not have been adequate for the situation that finally develops and would have had to be modified somewhat. The modifications, however, need not have been complicated and might well have taken less time in the story than the account of how arms were got from the storeroom. And, in any case, this part of the plans of 16 is silently dropped in 19 at a time when Odysseus has no whit more intimation of the sequel than he had when the plan was first formed. It would seem that nothing which Odysseus has seen in the palace itself should have changed his plans. The building is apparently just as he left it. He has now seen for himself what the suitors are like; why could this have made him decide that there was no point in leaving arms for himself and Telemachus ? He has convinced himself (though on what seems to me dubious evidence) that Penelope really has no desire to marry any of the suitors, and in consequence he may now feel that the situation is not so urgent as he may have feared the day before. But why should this have changed the plan ? Even if the situation is less urgent, it is still urgent, and in any event a few readily available weapons might well come in handy. If since yesterday he has become more confident of Eumaeus, this is at best a reason for leaving out three sets of weapons; it is in no sense a reason for abandoning the plan. The one great event that Odysseus could not foresee when he first planned tactics with Telemachus is the contest of the bow. If we are interested in making guesses, we may like to feel that the change 5

Woodhouse (Composition of Homer't Odyssey, 161 ff) is good on this point.

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of plans about the arms is somehow connected with the fact that, after Odysseus has, in Eumaeus' hut, sensibly arranged to deprive the suitors of arms while providing them for himself and his son (arrangements made at a time when, so far as he knows, he will have no weapon readily available), he learns that Penelope plans to set the contest of the bow, which will put a most deadly weapon into his hands. This change does, in fact, make other weapons unnecessary in the early stages of the slaughter. But, and it is a mighty but, the idea of leaving out a few weapons is, in our Odyssey, tacitly abandoned before Odysseus has heard a word about the bow. Moreover, the slaughter has not proceeded far before Telemachus has to leave the fight and go to the storeroom to get arms. True, he gets equipment for Eumaeus and Philoetius as well, who were not provided for in the original plan, but this is at best a slight palliation. The difficulties are by no means simplified, either, when Telemachus, at the end of Book 21 and just before the slaughter begins, puts on a sword and takes a spear in his hand, when no one else in the hall (except his father with the bow) has any weapon except a sword. Though the plan for leaving shields, swords, and spears for Odysseus and Telemachus has disappeared from the story, Telemachus has somehow or other managed to have a spear handy for himself. Where was it ? Why did no one notice it or ask about it ? If providing a spear was as easy as this, why not provide more ? And so on. The least unsatisfactory way out of this difficulty is to recognize this as another Homeric problem which can be illuminated by contemporary study of modern oral poetry. What we have here may well be a somewhat extreme example of what has been shown to be a characteristic of the works of oral poets. Wm. F. Hansen in his recent monograph 6 cites and discusses some interesting material from the first volume of Parry and Lord, Serbocroatian Heroic Songs.1 In the version of " T h e Captivity of Dulic I b r a h i m " which is given in full by Parry and Lord, the hero, on being released from prison, is provided with a passport for possible use in meeting border guards and a sword for possible use against wolves or bandits. As he makes his way home across the mountains, he twice frees himself from border guards by 6 The Conjtrenct Sequence: Patterned Narration and Narrative Inconsistency in the Odyssey [Berkeley 1972]. The relevant discussion is on pp. 2-3. 7 Cambridge, Mass. 1954. The relevant passage is on pp. 95-96. The significant variants are noted in nn. 9 and 10 on p. 348 and in nn. 10 and 11 on p. 345.

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using the passport and later uses the sword to kill a gang of bandits. But a footnote reports another version in which the hero is given the passport and sword, but neither passport nor sword plays any role in the rest of the story. (There is a third version in which he uses the passport once, but does not use the sword.) In this Serbocroatian milieu, we are lucky enough to have different versions and can trace the origin and development of an oddity. In dealing with Homer, other versions can only be guessed at. My guess would be that the careful plan for leaving a pair of swords, spears, and shields had a real point in a preHomeric version of the story, and that the confusion in our poem is in some way connected with the origins and sources of the Odyssey. I should suspect further that the discrepancy is more likely to be due to diversity of sources than to diversity of authorship. But if we try to go beyond general beliefs of this sort and seek something specific, we merely leave the marsh of orthodox Analysis for the swamp of the so-called Neo-Analysis. We have here a major defect in a very minor feature of Homer's story. Its origin must be a matter for conjecture.

4 Fourth, why are the maids carefully excluded from the hall when the arms are being removed ? It cannot be, as the ancient scholiast and some moderns maintain, so that they will not reveal the removal to the suitors, as they had revealed Penelope's raveling of her web. The removal of the arms is quite clearly not a thing that one can hope to keep secret; indeed, it is the realization of this fact that has produced Odysseus' speech for Telemachus to make to the suitors. As a matter of fact, it would seem that shutting the maids out would be just the thing to whet their curiosity and cause them to examine the hall carefully to see what had been going on that they had not been allowed to watch. They do not in fact notice anything (any more than Penelope does or than the suitors do the next day) when they come back to the hall a little later, even though fresh fires are lit for light and warmth. The maids can hardly have been in the way, and, while Melantho is nasty to the beggar, they would certainly behave themselves with Telemachus there. They might even have been useful, as Eurycleia's remarks suggest. Nor can they have been shut out to conceal Odysseus' participation, since Telemachus has devised a plausible reason for

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this: " n o beggar is going to be fed in my house without working for his keep." The maids cannot have been shut away in order to conceal from the suitors the whereabouts of the arms. In the first place, knowing where they had been put would have been no help to men trapped in the great hall, and, secondly, as soon as Telemachus brings out some arms, Melanthius immediately and correctly guesses where they had come from. It has been suggested to me that the maids have been shut in to keep them from rushing out and telling the suitors that Telemachus and the beggar are taking away the arms—the idea being, I suppose, that the suitors, or some of them, would then return and prevent the execution of the plan. If this was Homer's idea, we might have expected at least a word of explanation. Also, if the idea is really as shrewd as this, we might well have expected (besides an explanation) either that Odysseus himself would have thought of it or that he would have complimented Telemachus on his brilliant idea: nai de tauta ge panta, tekos, kata moiran eeipes. It is true that Telemachus' idea of shutting u p the maids does ensure that the maids and the suitors will be presented with a fait accompli. But what reason is there to imagine that the suitors would oppose the removal of the arms if they knew about it in advance or even if they were present when the arms were being taken away? Odysseus' advance planning assumes that they will show a certain natural curiosity, but also that, once this curiosity has been satisfied by Telemachus, they will make no objections. After all, as far as they know, the weapons are of no immediate practical use to anyone. I suspect that no amount of ingenuity can make the shutting out of the maids plausible for the characters. Surely, what we have here is the poet's will, not the careful planning of the personages involved. Homer already has in mind the impressive picture of Athena holding the golden lamp to give Odysseus and Telemachus light for their work. Eurycleia's words (24-25) make clear that one of the servants would normally perform this task. The poet decided that he must get rid of the natural helper so as to bring on the supernatural one. T h e shutting up of the servants is, therefore, merely preparation for the involvement of Athena. There is a kind of parallel to this technique in the Polyphemus episode. On the last night that Odysseus and his men spend in

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Polyphemus' cave, Homer needs to get the rams into the cave so as to have animals large enough to make Odysseus' escape possible. His earlier narrative makes clear that Polyphemus regularly leaves the male animals outside. But on this fatal night he drives them all into the cave. Homer thought that this strange conduct required an explanation, and so he says, "either because he had some presentiment, or some god ordered it so." Another example, possibly even more similar, meets us later in the Odyssey. In Book 16, Telemachus, recendy arrived at the swineherd's, sends Eumaeus to town to tell Penelope that he has returned safely and is with Eumaeus. This longish trip is essentially useless, as the sequel shows. Eumaeus reaches the palace simultaneously with a man from the ship, which had gone on into the harbor after disembarking Telemachus. The man from the ship, who tells Penelope that Telemachus has returned, could easily have given her all the other information that Eumaeus had been sent to report. (Indeed, Eumaeus himself seems quite aware that his trip was not necessary, 468-469.) Clearly Eumaeus was not sent to town for the alleged reason. Homer wanted to make sure he was out of the way for a time long enough to enable Odysseus to make himself known to Telemachus when they were alone together. In shutting out the maids, in bringing the rams into the cave, and in despatching Eumaeus to town, the poet has, for his own purposes, required from his characters conduct that is inherently implausible. The passages differ in that he offered explanations (though not very good ones) for what Polyphemus did, but Homer hoped, I expect justifiably, that the audience would not be concerned about the reason for sending Eumaeus away or for shutting out the maids. 5 Finally, there is the matter of the spear rack in the palace. In Book 1, when Telemachus is ushering Athena-Mentes into the palace, he takes the guest's spear and " stands it against the tall column inside the polished spear rack, where stood many other spears belonging to enduring Odysseus" (127-129). 8 We should assume that, like a modern * P. von der Miihll (Pauly-Wissowa-Kroll, RE, Suppl. 7, 702) notes with amusement that this spear is left in the spear rack like a forgotten umbrella, when Athena later leaves in the form of a bird. See, too, K. Riiter, Odysseeinterpretationen [Gottingen 1969] 119, n. 16. Riiter roguishly suggests that before a person objects that Athena has forgotten her umbrella he should look in the spear rack to see if it is there.

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umbrella rack, this spear rack would probably be close to the door, and, indeed, when Telemachus arrives home in Book 17, "he set his spear against the tall column and went inside and stepped over the stone threshold" (29-30). The two passages make it clear that near the door of Odysseus' palace there was ordinarily a rack containing a number of spears. They would seem to be in precisely the spot where Odysseus and his allies would need them in the fight with the suitors. The scholiast on the passage in Book 1 actually says that the mention of this spear rack is put in oikonomikos, "for purpose of preparation, so that no one will later raise the question, 'Where were the spears found for the slaughter of the suitors?'" Even more surprising, Stanford, 9 after referring to the scholia, goes on to say, "This supply of spears will be used later in the killing of the Suitors in 22." So we might well expect. But in actual fact this marvelously convenient supply of weapons, in just the spot where they would be available for the little group of avengers, but cut off from the suitors, disappears as such completely from the story and plays no part whatever in the slaughter of the suitors. As soon as it is clear that the supply of arrows will not suffice to destroy the suitors, Telemachus goes to the storeroom for other weapons—and, to be sure, defensive armor. It may be argued, of course, that the weapons in the rack were among those that Telemachus and his father removed to the storeroom, but I find it hard to see how anyone would get this impression from Homer's narrative. Stanford, it is true, in writing his note on the spear rack in Book 1 quoted above, may have tacitly assumed that this is what Homer had in mind. But in his second volume, when writing on the actual removal of the arms in Book 19, he has a different (and I think correct) notion: "As 8-9 makes clear, these [weapons] belonged to O., presumably the spoils of war, hung on the wall as trophies. . . . The Suitors if they had any spears would leave them outside the megaron before they entered. . . . " This last remark, supported by a reference to Homer's words about the spear rack in Book 1, raises another interesting point: Even if Telemachus and Odysseus removed the spears from the rack the night before, would not the suitors have left a number of spears there when they arrived the next day? The Homeric »W. B. Stanford, Odyssey of Homer, Books I - X I I , 2nd ed. (London 1965) 220. In his note on the passage in Book 17 (vol. II, 282), Stanford says that the column here is different from the one in Book 1. I see no reason for this assumption, and Stanford himself does not seem to distinguish two places for spears in his note on line 4 of Book 19.

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gentleman seems to have carried a spear when he was away from home. Telemachus, for instance, carries a spear when he is just going from the palace to the market place. There is one piece of positive evidence suggesting that Homer was not thinking of the weapons in the spear rack when he described the removal of the arms. That the suitors look to the walls for weapons, after Odysseus has shot Antinous, " b u t there was no shield anywhere nor any spear to take," makes it evident that there were spears along with other military equipment on the walls of the great hall. Almost certainly, it is these spears that Odysseus and Telemachus put into the storeroom and, in part, recover later. I suspect the most likely explanation is that, when he came to deal with the slaughter of the suitors, Homer had forgotten all about the spear rack he had mentioned in Book 1 and apparently alluded to in Book 17 (29). If he spoke of the spear rack in Book 1 to " p r e p a r e " for the slaughter, he later forgot about his careful preparation or changed his mind about how he would tell his story. All in all, as we consider the various peculiarities in Homer's handling of this episode, it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that the account of the removal of the arms from Odysseus' great hall was a part of the story of Odysseus' return that had been told before and told in ways which, sometimes at least, differed from the version Homer gives us. The evidence in the Odyssey seems to me to suggest that there were before Homer's time versions of the slaughter of the suitors in which the arms were removed when Telemachus and Odysseus were not alone in the hall, probably when the suitors themselves were present; versions in which the suitors were destroyed by Odysseus and Telemachus alone, using the offensive and defensive weapons that had been carefully left for them; and, possibly, versions in which some use was made of the spears in the rack near the door. But even if we knew that versions of these sorts once existed, there would be no reason for us to conclude, as Analysts are so fond of doing in situations of this kind, that any of them were better, either as a whole or in the treatment of this episode, than the Odyssey we have. Moreover, just what Homer took from which "source," just what, if anything, he invented for his own version, how it happened that he left his story with confusing discrepancies, these are questions that the present state of our knowledge does not permit us to answer. To main-

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tain, as many have, that the difficulties in the episode are the result of diversity of authorship is no more justifiable than it is to act, as many have, as though there was nothing odd in Homer's story. 10 I I . WISE PENELOPE AND THE CONTEST OF THE BOW

Homer defines Penelope for us in a series of repeatedly emphasized pairs: her main qualities are her beauty and her prudence. Her deepest prevailing emotions are longing for her husband's return and loathing for the thought of a second marriage. Her main activities are weeping and sleeping. Of course, she weaves, like all of Homer's women, but nothing much is made of this. She has no scene corresponding to the picture of Helen coming into her great hall with her maids, her silver work basket, and her blue wool. We are not even told anything about the pattern in her cloth, as we are told in the Iliad that Helen's weaving showed the battles of the Greeks and the Trojans. This is the more remarkable in that her weaving of Laertes' shroud is an important element in the background of Homer's story. But even this is kept in the background, and it is not until the very last book of the poem that we are told that this piece of cloth was large and shone like the sun or the moon. Our problem concerns the character of Penelope, her situation, and one of her actions, as these are portrayed in the Odyssey. If the relevant evidence is to be clearly before us, we must examine in some detail some parts of the poem. In Book 19, after Odysseus and Telemachus have removed the arms from the hall, Penelope, looking like Artemis or golden Aphrodite, leaves her room, comes into the hall, and sits by the fire on a chair decorated with ivory and silver, a chair made by the craftsman Icmalius. The scene has been impressively set for the long-postponed first conversation between Penelope and Odysseus, an Odysseus still in the beggarly guise imposed upon him by Athena. The rest of the book is given over to this scene. The beggar makes a fine impression on Penelope, convincing her that he entertained Odysseus for a fortnight in Crete twenty years earlier. Before, she had regarded him only with pity; now 10

A version of this discussion was presented at a meeting of the Classical Association of the Pacific States at Gonzaga University (April 27, 1968) honoring the Reverend J o h n H. Taylor, S.J., on reaching his sixtieth birthday.

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he will be a respected friend. Having won her confidence, the beggar then announces that he just recently heard that Odysseus is close to Ithaca. Indeed, he would have arrived some time ago had he not decided to go to Dodona to ask whether he should return to his native land openly or in secret. The beggar swears an oath that Odysseus will very soon be home. (This is the clear meaning, whatever may be the precise significance of lukabas.) " I could well wish that this would happen," says Penelope, " b u t I think Odysseus will not come home now." After the longish episode of the footbath (during which Penelope sits distracted by Athena), Penelope speaks again to the beggar, this time in more intimately personal terms. She describes her own miseries during these long lonely years and then turns to the presendy pressing problem: should she continue as she has been, staying with her son and watching over the property, or should she marry the best of the suitors ? While Telemachus was a child, he kept her from marrying again, but now the pressure from him works the other way; he is concerned about the property which the suitors are destroying. She then asks the beggar to interpret her dream of the eagle who came and killed her flock of geese and then, as she wept over the dead geese, returned and told her that the geese were really the suitors and that he who was an eagle is now her husband Odysseus. The beggar sensibly replies that Odysseus has himself interpreted her dream for her in the only possible way. "Dreams are hard to interpret," says Penelope, " a n d those that come through the ivory gate are deceitful. Those that come through the horn gate are reliable, but I don't think my dream came from there." It is at this point that Penelope announces that tomorrow she will leave Odysseus' home. She will set the contest of the bow and the axes, and the winner of the contest will take her away from the beautiful, wealthy home, "which I think I shall remember even in my dreams." Odysseus urges her to set the contest (and well he might); and Penelope, after a few gracious words to the beggar, goes up to her room and cries herself to sleep. This scene in Book 19 is enough in itself to make us ask why it is that Penelope, who has waited so long, and who regards a second marriage with such horror, makes up her mind to choose a second husband, when she has just been thinking about this remarkably clear dream (we are not told when she had the dream) and has just

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received from the apparently reliable beggar the assurance under oath that Odysseus will very soon be home. There is reasonably clear evidence in the poem that Penelope has long been under considerable pressure to marry again and that this pressure has very recently been greatly increased. Once or twice in the poem we are told that her father and her brothers are eager for her to marry. Some three or four years ago, when Telemachus was about seventeen and might be felt to be at least approaching manhood, there had apparently been a vigorous effort to get her to marry. To avoid marriage, she had hit upon the device of Laertes' shroud, and it would seem that the agreement had been that if the suitors would wait until the weaving was finished then Penelope would, on completing the shroud, choose a second husband. For three years Penelope enjoyed a kind of precarious security, weaving by day, raveling by night, until her trick was discovered because of the treachery of one of the servants. That the trick worked so long says more for the cleverness of Penelope than for the intelligence of the suitors. I think a reader of the Odyssey gets the impression that the discovery of the trick and the finishing of the shroud had taken place some time before, weeks and possibly months before. But in Book 24 the ghost of the dead suitor Amphimedon tells the ghost of Agamemnon in the world of the dead, " She finished the web and displayed it, and it shone like the sun or the moon. And at that time an evil spirit brought Odysseus to his swineherd's hut." Amphimedon's words are not only clear, but also emphatic, as the phrase kai tote de shows. We must conclude that Odysseus' arrival in Ithaca followed close upon the completion of the shroud. At the time of the opening of the Odyssey, Penelope has very recently finished the weaving, at most only a week or two ago, very possibly only a few days ago. I do not know whether the fact that the weaving has just been completed should make us feel that Penelope should be more willing or less willing to put off the hated decision for another week or so. I should expect that, if anything, a fortnight's delay might seem more reasonable under the very recently increased pressure than if she had already delayed for some time. It might be argued that what Amphimedon's ghost says is not evidence, because he also tells Agamemnon's ghost that Penelope and Odysseus arranged the bow contest together, and Homer has shown Penelope deciding this by herself. Amphimedon has been drawing a reasonable inference; the reader, who was there, knows that it is

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wrong. But in the matter of the weaving, the positions of Amphimedon and the reader are reversed: the reader may infer that the weaving was finished some time ago; Amphimedon, who was there, knows it was finished just before Odysseus' arrival. The trick with the web is mentioned by Penelope herself when she talks with the beggar on the evening before the slaughter of the suitors (19.138ff), and by Antinous in the assembly in Book 2 (93ff). There is nothing in Penelope's words to contradict what Amphimedon says. But critics who reckon up the days note that the assembly of Book 2 took place about a month before Odysseus reached Ithaca. It is unlikely, however, that Homer had kept careful count of the days or even had clearly before his mind just what was said in Book 2. I think, therefore, that it would be unwise to use Antinous' words as evidence that the report of Amphimedon's ghost is wrong. Another factor which is relevant to our judgment on Penelope's conduct is the prophecy of Theoclymenus. Earlier on this very same day on which Penelope makes her decision, she had been told under oath by the prophet Theoclymenus that Odysseus was actually in Ithaca planning evil for the suitors. Penelope courteously replies, " I could certainly wish that what you say might be true. If so, you would receive such gifts from me that anyone who met you would say that you were a lucky man." Finally, in her remarks to the suitors in Book 18, Penelope said that when Odysseus left for Troy he told her to marry again if he had not returned by the time Telemachus was bearded. We may now summarize Penelope's situation at the moment when she announces to the beggar her decision to choose a new husband by means of the bow contest: Very recently, maybe only a few days ago, she has finished the weaving which enabled her to put off the hated decision for some years. Her father and her brothers have made it clear that they think she should marry again, though we cannot be sure when their influence was first brought to bear. She is herself aware that postponing the marriage is unfair to Telemachus, since it involves a steady depletion of his inheritance. And Telemachus is now at an age when Odysseus told her to marry again, though it is not certain either when he first arrived at this age. These are the factors impelling Penelope to take the step she does, and it must be agreed that their cumulative weight is considerable. None of the factors, however, is of a sort to require her to make an

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immediate decision instead of delaying for, say, a week or two if, in addition to her deep-seated reluctance, there are any other factors which counsel a short further postponement. Homer has made the presence of such factors abundandy clear. A few hours ago a prophet has solemnly assured her that Odysseus is actually in Ithaca. This very night, while the beggar has been having his footbath, she has been musing on this dream whose transparent meaning is that the suitors will be killed by her husband. And the beggar, who has impressed her so favorably that he has now become a respected guest and friend, has just solemnly assured her that Odysseus is not far from Ithaca and will very soon be home. An important feature of the statements by the prophet and the beggar is that only a very short time will be necessary to test their truthfulness. Our problem is distressingly clear: why does the prudent Penelope resolve to marry again at this precise moment when she has no overpowering reasons for an immediate decision and does have these plausible reasons for at least a short delay ? There have, of course, been various attempts to answer this question. One answer has recently been restated by Page and Kirk: Penelope's illogical decision, taken together with some other features of the poem (Amphimedon's story, for instance), "supports the probability that an earlier version, in which the contest was arranged in full collusion between husband and wife, has been extensively but inadequately remodelled by the large-scale composer" (Kirk, The Songs of Homer [Cambridge 1962] 247). Whether or not we are prepared to accept this theory, we must, I think, admit that it cannot be disproved. Unlike many guesses about what lies back of Homer, this guess is supported by an unusually large number of details in the poem which are otherwise at the least somewhat odd. The oddities have been well discussed by Page and Kirk, and there is no need to rehearse them here. Among the Unitarians, the closest approach to this explanation is probably that in Chapter X of W. J . Woodhouse's The Composition of Homer's Odyssey. In Woodhouse's view, Homer has reached an impasse in his plot. "Willy nilly, one or other of the actors in the story must do something, in order that the whole thing may go forward. If the poet cannot find in his characters what he needs in the way of motive power, he must just contribute it out of his own head" (pp. 87f). So here, the story must go on, even at the cost of consistency

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in Penelope's character. For Woodhouse, as for Page and Kirk, Homer's difficulties are rooted in his sources. But for Woodhouse, these are various old "Tales," not a different version of the Odyssey. It was inevitable that solutions such as these should seem to some of Homer's admirers an outrageous aspersion on Homer's craftsmanship. An important element in the derogatory explanation is that in some of Homer's sources, whether earlier "Odysseys" or "Tales," husband and wife are identified to each other before the slaughter of the suitors. We have recently been asked to believe that in our Odyssey Penelope really penetrates Odysseus' disguise before she decides on the contest of the bow. This view has been presented in two able articles by P. W. Harsh and the late Anne Amory. 11 I am not sure I have read any suggestion about difficulties in Homer which I should accept with more pleasure than this one, if I thought it were possible. There are, however, two reasons for rejecting it, either of which would be fatal even done. In the first place, the theory requires us to assume that Homer, regularly the most straightforward and lucid of poets, has chosen to wrap an important feature of his story in a mystery which we can penetrate only by reading between his lines and assuming that he meant things which he did not say. I should think nearly everyone would agree that Homer is not that kind of poet. 12 The second objection to the theory is contained in Homer's picture of Penelope at the beginning of the next book. After her talk with the beggar, Penelope goes up to her room and weeps for Odysseus until Athena puts her to sleep. (Even this does not seem altogether appropriate for a woman who believes that Odysseus is home.) Book 20 opens with a picture of the sleepless Odysseus, who is finally also put to sleep by Athena. But as he falls asleep, Penelope wakes up. She cries and wails and calls upon Artemis to kill her at once, autika nun. Better to go down under the earth than to gladden the heart of an inferior man. All this fits perfectly with the Penelope whom Homer has just described, resolved to choose a second husband tomorrow, H Harsh, "Penelope and Odysseus in Odyssey X I X , " American Journal of Philology, 71 (1950) 1-21; Amory, Essays on the Odyssey, ed. by C. H. Taylor, J r . (Bloomington 1963) 100-121 and 130-136. 12 Cf. the remark of Milman Parry (in connection with the possibility of jur being able to distinguish particularizing epithets): " if we keep in mind the directness which is from every point of view the mark of Homeric style, and firmly exclude any interjretation which does not instantly and easily come to mind . . .." The Making of Homeric Verse. The Collected Papers of Milman Parry (Oxford 1971) 156.

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but hating the thought of it. But Penelope's words are completely incompatible with the Harsh-Amory woman who knows that Odysseus is asleep downstairs. The most recent discussion of Penelope's conduct that I have seen is that of Agathe Thornton (People and Themes in Homer's Odyssey [London and Dunedin 1970] 102ff). Mrs. Thornton wisely rejects the idea that Penelope recognized Odysseus before she decides to set the contest. She places major emphasis on Penelope's statement to the suitors in Book 18 that Odysseus when he left for Troy told her to marry again "when you see our son bearded." "Penelope's decision in Book 19 to arrange for the bow contest is clearly motivated by Odysseus' parting words and by Telemachus having grown to manhood." Penelope's decision is proof of "her utter loyalty to Odysseus." So far from finding any bungling in the treatment of this episode, Mrs. Thornton is quite eloquent in praising Homer for the fine ironical way in which he has handled this. The difficulty with this explanation is that it completely fails to deal with the real snag: Penelope's sudden haste at a time when, though she is under pressure, there are no pressures requiring such speed but a respectable number of reasons for at least a brief delay. After all, Telemachus is twenty years old, and his face must have been noticeably hirsute for some years. We have seen good reason to wonder at Penelope's conduct, but we are not yet through with her. The timing of her resolve to choose a new husband has been much discussed, and many have found her conduct here out of keeping with her charactcr. But there is another aspect of her conduct which is even more inexplicable. Homer has portrayed for us a woman whose intelligence is frequently emphasized in the poem, and in Book 23 he shows her more than a match for the brilliant Odysseus himself. He has also emphasized that she is under great pressure to m a n y again. Finally he has made it clear that the thought of a second marriage fills her with such loathing that even death seems preferable. How is such a woman to solve her problem ? Some years ago she hit upon the device of the shroud. She cannot have imagined that this would be more than a delaying action. Indeed, she must have been remarkably sanguine if she expected the delay to be as long as it actually was. This useful device has now lost its usefulness. What can she do next? The obvious answer, I should think, is look for another device. The really amazing thing about the

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intelligent Penelope's conduct is that it does not occur to her that she has ready to hand another device which will not merely postpone her second marriage, but will solve her problem permanendy. In the storeroom of her palace, there is a splendid bow, an heirloom from the great archers of an earlier generation. It is an extremely hard bow to string. With it Odysseus in the days before the war used to perform a difficult trick of shooting "through the axes" set up in his great hall. There is every reason to believe that no one but Odysseus (and possibly his son) could string the bow and shoot through the axes. Penelope's problem almost solves itself. All she need do is pretend to the suitors that she has made up her mind to delay no longer. She has not, however, been able to decide which of her many suitors to choose, and so she will allow a contest with her husband's bow to make the decision for her. It could hardly have seemed unreasonable to the suitors if she added something like, "Since I am willing to choose my second husband in this way, I think it only fair of you to agree that, if it should happen that none of you can string the bow and shoot through the axes, you will then abandon your suit and leave my house." This, I suggest, is the obvious solution that should have occurred to the kind of woman Homer has portrayed. Her failure to think of it has long seemed to me the great defect in the plotting of the Odyssey.13 And Homer could have told the story in this way with only the slightest and easiest changes in the story as it now stands: one or two lines to tell us that Penelope's proposal is a trick and not seriously meant; one or two adding the proviso that will rid the house of the suitors; one or two telling us that after having decided on the pseudocontest, she woke in the night and was reduced to despair as she wondered if one of the suitors might just possibly succeed. Everything else in the poem can be left exactly as it is. There is no need to tell the 13 William Whallon ("The Homeric Epithets," Tale Classical Studies 17 [1961] 128) argues that Penelope was conscious that the suitors would certainly fail in the contest: "She is called wise Penelope. . . when she tells of her plan to choose among the suitors by the contest of the bow and axes, and the epithet and name remind us how she put the suitors off before, and cause us to assume that she plans to do so again. For when we remember the device of the loom, we doubt whether she would initiate a test that she thought could conceivably be fulfilled by the strength and skill of any of the suitors. And if we not only see that the suitors are unable to meet the test, but assume the belief of Penelope that they are all obviously unable. . . ." This assumption seems to me extremely unlikely. It requires us to endow Homer's audience with a kind of clairvoyance enabling the listeners to see what Homer's characters mean at times when they say just the opposite.

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beggar that the contest is a trick; the suitors will fail to string the bow; Odysseus will get the bow into his hands, and the the suitors will be destroyed. The story told in this form not only saves Penelope from any charge of illogical conduct, but also has a special appropriateness to the extremely intelligent woman we have been assured she is. In the story as we have it, Penelope, the model of cautious, shrewd intelligence, acts on this one occasion like a rash, precipitate fool. It is quite understandable that Homer's readers have often wondered why. I I I . DOORS,

TORTURES,

AND

HERDSMEN:

MELANTHIUS

AND THE PLANKS

When Melanthius' treachery in bringing arms to the suitors is discovered by Eumaeus, Odysseus gives detailed instructions to Eumaeus and Philoetius about how to deal with him (22.172-177): "Twist his hands and feet behind him, throw him into the room, sanidas d'ekdesai opisthe, fasten a twisted rope to him, pull him up along the high column, and bring him close to the beams, so that he'll live there for a while in torment." A few lines later, we are told how these instructions were carried out (187-193): "They dragged him inside by the hair, threw him on the ground, tied his feet and hands, twisting them very thoroughly, fastened a twisted rope to him, pulled him up along the high column, and brought him near to the beams." There are slight variations in the details, both of language and of action, and the sequence is not just the same, but, with one exception, every feature in Odysseus' instructions has its counterpart in the account of how the slaves executed Odysseus' orders: (1) twist his hands and feet behind him / they tied his feet and hands, twisting them very thoroughly; (2) throw him into the room / they dragged him inside by the hair and threw him on the ground; (3) fasten a twisted rope to him / they fastened a twisted rope to him; (4) pull him up along the high column / they pulled him up along the high column; (5) bring him close to the beams / they brought him close to the beams. The tantalizing exception to all this fine correspondence is that nothing in the account of the slaves' actions corresponds to the phrase in Odysseus' orders that I have left untranslated, sanidas ekdesai opisthe, precisely the phrase whose meaning has long been disputed. Our paltry Odyssey scholia (see n. 3 supra) show that in antiquity the phrase gave trouble, or at least called for a note, but the

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scholiasts are concerned with explaining the chronological sequence of events and assume throughout that sanidas means " d o o r " or "doors." It may be worth translating them: Schol. H : "sanidas d'ekdesai: this is the last thing. After hanging him up, then shut the door, so that no one else may come in." Schol. V. gives this: " T h e sequence is: you two, after you have twisted back his arms and fastened a twisted rope to him, drag him up the high column and shut the door. Or, the word opisthen means 'shut the door after this'." The longest scholium is Q_, and this is unfortunately incomplete, breaking off in the middle of a sentence: " T h e word opisthen is temporal, being used for meta tauta. Having fastened the sanides, that is to say the door, go out and leave him thrown in there. And then, as though having changed his mind, Odysseus says, ' O r rather, don't leave him thrown in there, but hang him up.' The word 'rather,' therefore, is omitted, just as we commonly say, ' G o off to the market,' and then, like persons who have changed their mind, we say ." Here there is a defect in the scholium, the next words clearly belonging to a note on line 184. It is obvious, however, that for all the scholiasts sanidas meant " door," and the only problem was to fit the closing of the door into the proper temporal sequence. The first indication that anyone in antiquity contested the idea that sanidas meant " d o o r " appears in Eustathius (Commentarii ad Homeri Odysseam [ed. Stallbaum], vol. 2 [Leipzig 1826] 277) who devotes some three or four hundred words to the problem. He is himself convinced that sanidas means "door," and much of his discussion deals with the old difficulty of the sequence of Odysseus' thought. He does, however, introduce some extremely interesting material not found in the Scholia. First, he emphasizes that sanidas ekdesai is not synonymous with sanidas epitheinai. It does not, that is, mean "shut the d o o r " (though it clearly implies that this door is shut), but "fasten the door," what we mean, I suppose, by "lock the door." Secondly, Eustathius reports that some persons have cited passages in Herodotus and Aristophanes to support an altogether different interpretation of the phrase: sanidas here does not mean " d o o r " but "planks," and Eumaeus and Philoetius are not being ordered to fasten the door but to fasten planks to Melanthius as a kind of torture. Interpretation of the passage from the Renaissance to the publication of Doederlein's Homerisches Glossarium (Erlangen 1850-58) retraces more or less the path already laid out by the Scholia and

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Eustathius, except that the nineteenth-century Eustathius, Doederlein, comes out strongly for the plank torture. And each of the two views has its champions today. Among the editors, Stanford, for instance, follows Merry and Monro in arguing for the plank torture; AmeisHentze-Cauer, for instance, and B^rard-Groube-Langumier tell us it means "fasten the door behind you." Translators are similarly at variance: Butcher and Lang, "close the doors after y o u " ; Murray, " t i e boards behind his back"; Lattimore, "fasten boards behind h i m " ; Rieu, "locking the door when you have done." Even the two great classic English translators disagree: Chapman, " t h e doors make sure at your b a c k " ; Pope, " a n d fix a plank behind." T h e word sanis occurs in Homer thirteen times: Iliad (6): 9.583; 12.121, 453, 461; 18.275; 21.535. Odyssey (7): 2.344; 21.51, 137, 164; 22.128, 174; 23.42. The first of the Iliad psssages refers to doors in Meleager's house; all the other Iliad passages refer to gates, either of the Greek camp or of Troy. All the Odyssey passages refer to something in Odysseus' house. I n one of these thirteen passages we have the singular (Od. 21.51), and the word seems to mean a plank used in some way to hold chests above the floor. All the remaining passages are plural and, except for our problem passage, all clearly refer to gates or doors or parts thereof. The preliminary probability then, is that in this remaining plural passage too we have a door, and it is this prevailing use of sanidas in Homer which presumably produced the interpretation "shut the d o o r " for the passage concerning Melanthius. The passages in which sanidas refers to doors or gates are not of great help in our problem, but they do make some contribution. In Iliad 12.121, closed gates, epikeklimenas sanidas, are contrasted with open, anapeptamenas, gates. The phrase epikeklimenas sanidas is, like sanidas ekdesai, unique in Homer and, to judge by LSJ, contains a unique meaning for epiklino. In Iliad 21.535, Priam says, "Leave the gates open until the fugitives get inside, but when they are inside, autis epanthemenai sanidas pukinds araruias." Epanthemenai here is like the use of epitithemi with thrum elsewhere to mean "close the door." In the second book of the Odyssey, we have a description of the storeroom from which Telemachus gets provisions for his journey. It contains gold, bronze, textiles, olive oil, and wine, and it has a closed (or closable) door: kleistai epesan sanides. Three of the sanides passages, then, refer to closed doors, and it may be significant that in none of them is there anything like the ekdesai of the passage in Book 22.

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43

The evidence in the Scholia and Eustathius suggests that "shut the d o o r " was the orthodox interpretation, whose meaning did not need to be defended. The problem was only to show why Odysseus said " s h u t the d o o r " at this point in his instructions. T h e advocates of the other view, "tie planks to him," appear to have felt the need of defending this meaning by citing parallels. T h e same difference is pretty much characteristic of the two schools in modern times. And, more than anything else, it is the alleged parallels which weaken the case presented by the advocates of the plank torture. Their parallels are often of a sort to arouse scepticism rather than compel agreement. The only Homeric " p a r a l l e l " cited is Iliad 15.18-21. There is no need to quote these lines. They are completely useless, because they contain no sanides. Hera is hung up by the arms, and anvils are fastened to her feet to add to her weight and consequently to the strain on her arms. If this passage has any relevance to the Odyssey one, it might suggest that Melanthius' torture too was to consist of the long strain on his arms and legs. Two passages are cited from Aristophanes. The first, Plutus, 309-312, is inspired by Homer, since there is a reference to Circe and the "son of Lartius," but it also has no sanides. T h e punishment is like Hera's and like Melanthius' punishment as actually carried out (though in Aristophanes, of course, the victim is to hang by ton orcheon). If anything, this passage suggests that Aristophanes did not imagine there were any planks involved in Melanthius' punishment. The second parallel is Thesmophoriazusae 931 and 940. Here there is a plank (singular), but there are no details to correspond to the Odyssey passage. These passages cited from the poets are useless as evidence. Better material is offered by the historians. T h e use of a plank in punishment is twice referred to by Herodotus. At 7.33, at the beginning of his account of Xerxes' bridging of the Hellespont, he inserts a kind of footnote relating how, a little after the building of the bridge, " t h e y " caught a Persian named Artayctes and "nailed him to a plank," pros sanida diapassaleusan. The prefix dia may well indicate that he was "spread-eagled," that is, his arms and legs were spread out and fastened to crosspieces, so that the plank torture is a sort of crucifixion. In this torture, all that is necessary is to fix the upright " p l a n k " in such a way that the victim does not touch the ground. If the slaves spread-eagled Melanthius in this way, there seems no point in their going to the

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considerable trouble of pulling him up to the roofbeam. Artayctes' character, crimes, and punishment are described near the very end of Herodotus' history at 9.116-120. The words that concern us come near the end of this passage, where we read (in Hude's Oxford text) that the Athenians " nailed him to a plank and hung him up." In this passage, unfortunately, the manuscripts vary in their reading of the critical word. Most read sanidas, one has sanida. Hude reads sanidi, a conjecture of Reische. The reason for the conjecture is to ensure that Artayctes is nailed to the plank, not the plank (or planks) to him. We may think it at least odd that the accusative plural planks in most of the manuscripts of Herodotus are just what we have in the Odyssey. But while one might speak of tying planks to a person, it seems most unlikely that anyone would ever speak of nailing planks to a person. We should expect the person to be nailed to the plank. If the accusative cannot give the proper sense, the dative seems certainly necessary. But it is unfortunate that the parallel passage should involve uncertainties in the text. It is probably unimportant that Artayctes is nailed, while Melanthius is tied. LSJ cite one other plank-torture passage. Plutarch, in his life of Pericles (28.2) reports that the Samian historian Duris accused Pericles and the Athenians of much savagery after their capture of Samos. In particular, Pericles had the Samian trierarchs and marines brought to the market place, fastened them to planks (sanisi prosdesas), and left them to suffer for ten days before they were killed. The plural planks are quite in order here, since there were many victims. Points of similarity to the Odyssey are the verb (though with a different prefix and a different construction) and the suffering of the victims before their execution. There have, of course, been attempts to deal with the plank problem by tinkering with the text. One way is to solve the difficulty by removing the line. This solution was suggested by Bothe and was favored by Doederlein, who believed that the line had been added by someone who knew about the plank torture and thought it would be proper to subject Melanthius to it. Von der Miihll brackets the line in his edition. There are a number of considerations in favor of this solution: the only papyrus which contains this bit of the Odyssey (1106 Pack 2 ) omits the line. (The reason for the omission is, of course, quite unknown to us.) With this line gone, we no longer have one element in Odysseus' commands which is apparendy ignored in the description

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45

of what the slaves did. It may be significant, too, that the command in the other part of this line, "throw him into the room," is the one which is carried out with the greatest variation in phraseology: " they dragged him inside by the hair and threw him on the ground." We must, I think, regard the line with suspicion. But we may also be at least a little disturbed by the fact that this hypothetical interpolator displays the stupidity which seems to have been an occupational disease among the myriad interpolators we have met with in so many Analytical treatises on Homer: having inserted a line in which Odysseus orders the plank torture, he did not have the wit to put in another telling us that the order was carried out. Another solution by athetesis is to eliminate the three immediately following lines, 175-177. This was proposed by Duentzer, who thought it odd that Odysseus should add these instructions after having told the slaves to shut the door. This athetesis also eliminates in line 175 one of the extremely rare Homeric lines consisting wholly of spondees. With lines 175-177 removed, Eumaeus and Philoetius, instead of failing to carry out Odysseus' instructions, do more than they are told to do. This athetesis is, I should say, considerably less plausible than the other. Among the various other efforts at improving the text, I mention only one, also suggested by Bothe. This involves the change of only one letter. Read sanidos instead of sanidas. This very slight change helps the plank-torture interpretation in two ways: we now have only one plank instead of the troublesome planks; we no longer have the apparently anomalous procedure involving fastening planks to Melanthius, but can fasten him to a plank. There is a splendid simplicity about this solution, but it does not remove the oddity that the slaves do nothing with either planks or a plank. If we undertake to sum up our unsatisfactory evidence, we have something like this: The verb in Homer's phrase seems to fit the tying on of planks much better than the fastening of a door, but the plural noun fits the door better than the plank torture. Homer does not use this phrase elsewhere in connection with doors, but he does not use it elsewhere in connection with anything, and later writers who speak of the plank torture do not use this phrase. Such parallels as have been cited by advocates of the plank torture are either wholly irrelevant or have some differences which make them not altogether convincing. In view of the lack of parallels for either interpretation, our vote for one

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or the other must take into consideration other points. Apart from the phraseology, the great superiority of the plank-torture interpretation is that if the questionable phrase means "tie planks to him," then the sequence of events in Odysseus' orders becomes smooth and sensible. If the phrase means "shut the door," either the sequence is most implausibly disordered, as the scholiasts believed, or the slaves are told to throw Melanthius into the room, lock the door behind them, and then set about Melanthius' punishment. It is not easy to see why there was any need for them to lock the door at this stage. On the other hand, the lock-the-door version has some not negligible advantages. It would be fair to conclude that the plank torture was an impressive addition to Melanthius' miseries. Eumaeus and Philoetius are clearly not eager to save Melanthius pains. It is unlikely that they would fail to include this extra torment they had been ordered to provide or that Homer should have failed to include it in his description of what they did. On the other hand, the door of this room and, indeed, the closing of it is twice called to our attention. Telemachus, when he sees that the suitors have been provided with arms, apologizes because he failed to close this door after bringing equipment from the room. And when the slaves have finished with Melanthius and leave the room with Melanthius in it, they "close the shining door" (201). If, therefore, Odysseus said "lock the door behind you," this part of his instructions is, like all the other parts, in a way carried out. If he said " tie planks to him," this part of his orders is implausibly ignored altogether by the slaves and by the poet. The balance of probability, I think, is that the phrase means "tie planks to him," but this interpretation is by no means free from difficulties, and the evidence so far presented in its support does not justify the confidence which its supporters display. Finally, the temptation to remove the difficulty by removing the line has, perhaps, more appeal than a solution by athetesis usually has. University of Oregon Eugene, Oregon

R O G E R A. DE L A I X

The Silver Coinage of the Aetolian League From the time of P. Gardner and B. V. Head until fairly recently, the prevailing practice was to lump all Aetolian coinage into the 110-year period from 279 to 168 B.C.1 Little or no attempt was made to establish even a relative chronology for the various issues. This state of knowledge appeared as late as 1954, in the second edition of Charles Seltman's Greek Coins.2 Then, in 1962, F. Scheu published the first study intended to classify Aetolian coinage more accurately and relate it to its historical setting. 3 More recently, the work of S. P. Noe on the Corinth hoard and that of M. Thompson on the Agrinion hoard have pointed the way toward further study. 4 In the following discussion, it is my intention to use the evidence presented by these authors, as well as a good deal of evidence not heretofore considered, in order to make at least a beginning toward a comprehensive study of the silver coinage of the Aetolian League. 5 1 See Gardner, BMC, Thessaly to Aetolia (London 1883) lv-lviii, 194-200, and Head, Historia Numorum, 2nd ed. (Oxford 1911) 334-335. 2 Seltman, Greek Coins, 2nd ed. (London 1955) 254-255. 3 Scheu, "Coinage Systems of Aetolia," NC (1960) 37-52. * Noe, " T h e Corinth Hoard of 1938," ANSMN10 (1962) 9-42; Thompson, The Agrinion Hoard (New York 1968); also see L. A. Losada, " T h e Aetolian Indemnity of 189 and the Agrinion Hoard," Phoenix 19 (1965) 129-133. 5 It must be clearly understood, however, that the present publication is not intended to be a corpus of Aetolian silver coinage or to present numismatic evidence of purely intrinsic interest but without relevance to the historical situations discussed. My gratitude should be recorded at this point to the American Numismatic Society for the fellowship to its Summer Program for 1965 that made this research passible. Particular thanks must be given to Miss Margaret Thompson for her aid and advice. Her recently

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Roger A. dc Laix

The main goals throughout will be: (1) to establish a basic chronology for this coinage on purely numismatic grounds; (2) to relate this coinage to precise historical periods through the combined use of numismatic and historical evidence; and (3) to suggest a new theoretical principle useful in corroborating these suggested chronological groupings. T H E NUMISMATIC E V I D E N C E

The silver coinage of the league was struck in several denominations and on two distinct standards, the Attic and the Corcyraean. There was a series of tetradrachms on the Attic standard, bearing the familiar Alexander type of Heracles on the obverse and depicting the ethnic goddess Aetolia seated on a pile of Gallic and Macedonian shields on the reverse (pi. 1:1). The standard weight for these tetradrachms seems to have been 17.20 gm. On the heavier Corcyraean standard five denominations were coined: the stater (ca. 10.50 gm.), the half-stater (ca. 5.25 gm.), the triobol (ca. 2.60 gm.), known from numerous examples (pi. 1:2), and two smaller pieces, the diobol and obol, of which only a few examples are extant. Of all the silver issues the preponderant denomination is the triobol, which, since it offers the fullest evidence, provides the primary basis for this study. The types on these Corcyraean standard coins are several. The staters carry the head of an unidentified male figure (possibly the eponymous hero Aetolus) on the obverse and a reverse showing a warrior posed holding a staff with his right foot resting on a rock. The half-staters depict a female head, that of Artemis, on the obverse, while the reverse has Aetolia seated on the familiar pile of shields. Finally, the triobols, diobols, and obols carry the head of a female (probably Atalanta) wearing a kausia on the obverse and on the reverse the Calydonian boar. In addition, there are two unique issues that should be mentioned: an Attic-standard tetradrachm with half-stater types and a Corcyraean standard half-stater with an Athena head obverse and a boar reverse. The termini a quo and ad quem for this entire body of coinage published classification of the 97 Aetolian triobols from the Agrinion hoard (pp. 104-106) seems to be in general agreement with my own findings based on a greater number of coins. I have, however, distinguished four distinct groups to her three. (The issues numbered 60 and 61 in this study [Agrinion 668 and 669], in my estimation should not be grouped with issues 62-66 [Agrinion 670-679]; see infra, p. 56 and cf. Thompson, 105 n. 129.) A comfmratio numerorum between my issue numbers and the coin numbers of the Agrinion hoard (all of whose coins are clearly illustrated in Thompson's publication) is given in the Appendix infra.

The Silver Coinage of the Aetolian League

49

are easily determined from hoard evidence and may be given at this point before undertaking the more difficult task of formulating a chronology for the various issues. The earliest writers on the subject held that the first Aetolian coins were the Attic-standard tetradrachms, which supposedly commemorated that great moment in Aetolian history, the defeat of the Gauls in 279.6 This position has a certain prima facie appeal: the reverse type of these coins shows the goddess Aetolia sitting on a pile of Gallic and Macedonian shields, while even the letters AY and A on the shields might be identified with conquered generals.7 However, Noe, in his study of the Corinth hoard of 1938 (a hoard buried ca. 216 B.C.), has brought to light some further evidence for down-dating the tetradrachm series to the time of the Social War. In his words: " T h e fresh condition of the seven Aetolian tetradrachms in this hoard calls for noting. We have seen that the tetradrachms of Cleomenes in the Sparta Hoard are to be interpreted as preparation for the campaign which closed at Sellasia—may not these seven tetradrachms be explained as part of an issue in preparation for the Social War of 217-215?" 8 The evidence presented by Noe seems conclusive; nor, as we shall see, is there any reason to believe that the smaller denominations struck on the Corcyraean standard antedated the tetradrachm issues. We may, then, turn quickly to the second half of our question, concerning the point at which all Aetolian minting came to an end. A numismatically based answer is offered by the evidence from the Agrinion hoard. 9 The relatively unworn condition of five triobol issues in this collection buried ca. 146-135 shows that the Aetolian League must have been coining at least into the 150s or even 140s. Thus, from the evidence of the Corinth and Agrinion hoards, it may be seen that the traditional dating of Aetolian coinage to the period 279/278-168/167 must be rejected, and that the years ca. 220 and ca. 146-135 should be set as the termini a quo * See supra n. 1. 7 According to Gardner (supra n. 1) lvi-lvii, AY stands for Lyciscus, a Macedonian genera] at the time of Cassander, and A for the Gallic chieftain Acichorius. a Noe, ANSMN 10 (1962) 37, followed by Losada (supra n. 4) 129. Noe's dating, however, is in error; see infra, p. 59. * Based upon the most recent chronology for the denarii of the Agrinion hoard, it has become necessary to move the burial date for this hoard from ca. 146 (Thompson, "Athens Again," NC [1962] 320-322) to as late as ca. 135. However, the matter does not seem to be entirely settled. See Thompson, The Agrinion Hoard, 107-109, and R. Thomsen and M. H. Crawford, apud Thompson, 118-130.

50

Roger A. de Laix

and ad quem for the entirety of the league's silver issues.10 Within this framework an attempt may now be made to construct a more detailed chronology. To facilitate the following discussion, it seems best to ask that the reader refer in advance to the final arrangement of issues set forth in the Register (infra pp. 71-75), and then to explain the criteria on which this arrangement is based. For the moment it is not expected that the reader will attach any chronological significance to the issue numbers. But since the issues must be referred to in some way other than by their somewhat cumbersome obverse and reverse legends, a numbered sequence is necessary. It will become clear in the course of the following discussion, moreover, that any exact relative chronology for all the individual issues is not possible on the basis of the present evidence. Yet groups of issues—particularly in the triobol coinage—can be placed in a relative sequential order. THE TRIOBOLS

The first criterion used in arranging the coinage is hoard evidence. For the triobol series, which offers by far the most examples, the datable hoards fall into three chronological divisions: (1) the Oreus hoard (ca. 171-169), (2) the Arcadia hoard (160s), and (3) the hoards from Peloponnesus, Caserta, Olympia (all ca. 146), and Agrinion (ca. 146-135). 11 The breakdown by issues as they appear in these three divisions, with the condition of the coins according to wear indicated in all cases where the information was available, is as follows: 12 " For further discussion of the probable termini of this coinage, see infra pp. 59ff. 11 Thompson, The Agrinion Hoard, 91-92, lowers the accepted date for the Oreus hoard from 173 to ca. 171-169, and lowers the date given by Crosby and Grace (infra n. 12) for the Arcadia hoard (ca. 185-182) by about twenty years. >2 T h e notation of coin wear for those coins not in the ANS collection, i.e., the example of issue 14 from Oreus and issues 10, 16, 34, 46, 52, 53, 54, 57, 63 from Olympia, is based only on photographs or casts and not as with the remainder of the noted issues, all from Agrinion, on my tactile as well as visual analysis. A complete list of all the hoards containing Aetolian coins that were known in 1937 may be found in Noe, A Bibliography of Greek Coin Hoards (New York 1937). The list (with Noe's numbering) is included here with subsequent additions. Where applicable the publication of these hoards is noted in parentheses: 60: Arcadia (M. Crosby and E. Grace, An Achaean League Hoard [New York 1936]); 103: Athens; 213: Caserta (A. Lobbecke, ^ / X [ 1 9 0 8 ] 275-303); 394; Epidaurus;635; Macrycome; 717: Myonia ( J . N. Svoronos, JIAN 2 [1899] 297); 731: Naupactus; 771: Oreus (Svoronos, JIAN 5 [1902] 318-328); 795: Patras (C. T . Newton, NC [1854] 31-37); 802: Peloponnesus (Thompson, Hesperia 8 [1939] 116-154); 997: Sophikon (Svoronos, JIAN 2 [1899] 289; 8

The Silver Coinage of the Aetolian League

51

TABLE 1 H O A R D E V I D E N C E F O R T H E T R I O B O L ISSUES

Issue

Condition

Issue

Condition

Issue

Condition

36 51

slightly wom somewhat worn

1. Oreus Hoard (ca. 171-169) 14 worn 14 17 20 10 11 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 23 25 26 29 30 31

worn

2. Arcadia Hoard (160s) 21 23 somewhat worn

3. Peloponnesus, Caserta, Olympia, Agrinion Hoards (ca. 146-135) very worn 32 worn 48 somewhat wom 34 wom wom very worn 49 very worn 35 worn 50 somewhat wom 36 wom somewhat wom very worn 51 37 somewhat worn very worn 52 wom 38 somewhat wom very worn 53 somewhat wom very worn 39 somewhat worn 54 wom 40 worn somewhat wom very worn 57 41 worn very worn 60 somewhat wom wom very worn 42 61 somewhat wom worn 43 somewhat wom slightly wom 62 44 worn wom 63 slightly worn very worn 45 somewhat wom 64 slightly wom worn worn 46 65 slightly wom worn worn 47 66 slightly wom worn

This tabulation places one issue (14) considerably before ca. 171-169, due to its "worn" condition, and places six other issues before the burial date of the Arcadia hoard (160s). One issue (17) shows considerable wear while three others (23, 36, 51) are in better condition. Thirty-nine further issues are seen to have been in a condition varying from "very worn" to "slightly worn" as of ca. 146-135. Turning next to the second criterion for arranging the coinage, die linkage, the triobol series again offers much evidence. Obverse die links show the many interconnections among issues, but only one instance where a link exists between issues of two of the four main triobol groupings set forth in the Register, thus indicating perhaps that none of these four groupings were contemporaneous. Table 2 depicts the chain of linkage from one issue to the next in each linked [1905] 115; 10 [1907] 35-46); 1186: Zougra; Corinth 1938 (Noe, ANSMN 10 [1962] 9-42); Olympia (casts available at ANS) ; Agrinion 1959 (see supra n. 9). In addition, the material from the following collections was also used for this article: American Numismatic Society, Ashmolean Museum, Berlin Museum, Bibliothèque Nationale, Boston Museum of Fine Arts, British Museum, Copenhagen Museum, Dewing Collection, Fitzwilliam Museum, Hague Museum, Hermitage Museum, Hirsch Collection, Imhoof-Blumer Collection, Munich Museum, Pozzi Catalogue, Vienna Museum, Weber Collection.

52

Roger A. de Laix

series, but makes no attempt to distinguish the specific issues connected by each separate die. 1 3 TABLE 2 D I E LINKS AMONO THE TRIOBOL ISSUES

I

5 6 7

59 1-60

37 38 39

11

•12

41

-63

42

-64

43

13

44 46

r2 1

20

47

l

48 49

-26

50

-27

•51 -52

r 33 -34 35 36

The third criterion used as a basis for classification derives from obverse and reverse markings. Virtually all the silver coinage issued by the Aetolian League bears marks composed of either individual letters, monograms, or a combination of both. It has long been an open question concerning to what or to whom these marks refer. The answer, The following chart gives a complete list of the fifteen individual obverse die links among the triobol issues: obverse die

I

S

r 42

i-41 r 42 43 r 59 r 63 -42 -44 L51 1-47 1-60 1-64 linked -43 -46 -50 issues -49 1-48 -51 -51 52 It is to be noted that one inter-group link occurs between issues 5-7 and 36, but it might be explained on the basis that an old die from the earlier group was reused some years later at a time when a large triobol issue was needed and all available dies were put to use. A closeness in style between the obverse dies for issues 21 and 22 probably has a like explanation. The £ control group (22-45) is large and probably fits into a short chronological period (see infra pp. 62, 69); therefore it is not unlikely that the mint had to apply all its resources to meet an intense monetary demand. r 5

|-11

(-11

[-20

r

26

i-33 p 3 4

r-37

Ll2 L13 L21 L27 L34 L 3 5 L38 L35 L36 L41 - 7 L 36 -

6

-38

-39

The Silver Coinage of the Aetolian League

53

if the evidence provides one, must be based in part upon an investigation of these marks sis they appear on issues known to be contemporary or successive in time, as well as upon pertinent non-numismatic evidence. The attempt to answer this riddle, therefore, must be set aside until the sequence of issues has been established as firmly as possible (see infra p. 65ff). For the present, however, it will be taken as a working hypothesis that when one monogram or group of letters appears on two or more issues in conjunction with other different monograms or groups of letters, the former unchanging monogram or group of letters represents some type of "control marking" and may be used as an indicator for grouping the issues on which it appears, while the latter variable monograms or groups of letters comprise what I will provisionally term "moneyers' monograms." 1 4 In the large body of triobols a number of issues linked by the possession of common control markings exist. Issues 5-8 form a "control group" designated by the obverse control marking AY , and issues 9-13 a control group designated by the marking A NI AE

1 2 2 1 2

vu

£

TEN J~LNV 1

?

?

1 1 1

Obv. head of Artemis; rev Aetolia seated on shields

Obv. head of Athena; rev. boar facing left, head down

73

The Silver Coinage of the Aetolian League CORCYRAEAN STANDARD SlLVER TRIOBOLS

Issue Numbers

Die Links

Obverse Markings

Reverse Markings

Obverse Styles

Number of Obverse Dies

Hoard Evidence

Group I 1 2 4 5 6 7

rL

8 9 10 11 12 13 14

r

L

S\A AJ\

AY

AY AY AY (01 I 01

{\) occupatío odiosus offeniio opinor omamcntum otiosus pauper pellicio penetro percípio perieli tor penpicio persuasio pervado piger pigri tía pondero praecaveo praecipuus (-« only) (all) praeparo praepono priscus proclivis profero prospieio (1) prudentia punió rapidus reconcilio recorda tio recreo redintegro reduco reformido regno reicio relaxo renuntio reparo (l) repono reservo respuo

Adj

Tacitus

Adj

3 4 5 1 1 7 11 20 9 8 21 25 2 6 3 0 22 2 7 0 10

0.2 0.3 0.4 0.1 0.1 0.6 0.9 1.6 0.7 0.7 1.7 2.1 0.2 0.5 0.2 0.0 1.8 0.2 0.6 0.0 0.8

5 0 2 2 0 29 6 4 6 8 7 10 3 11 1 6 10 3 0 0 2

1.2 0.0 0.5 0.5 0.0 7.2 1.5 1.0 1.5 2.0 1.7 2.5 0.7 2.7 0.2 1.5 2.5 0.7 0.0 0.0 0.5

42 75 87 44 9 7 37 10 15 7 4 26 4 5 22 118 3 69 39 0 70 8 23 12 3

3.4 6.2 7.1 3.6 0.7 0.6 3.0 0.8 1.2 0.6 0.3 2.1 0.3 0.4 1.8 9.7 0.2 5.7 3.2 0.0 5.7 0.7 1.9 1.0 0.2

5 93 3 37 20 1 30 2 9 31 5 3 7 2 8 9 2 15 4 0 1 6 11 11 2

1.2 23.1 0.7 9.2 5.0 0.2 7.5 0.5 2.2 7.7 1.2 0.7 1.7 0.5 2.0 2.2 0.5 3.7 1.0 0.0 0.2 1.5 2.7 2.7 0.5

(miKiniO

83

Unused Words as an Index of Style TABLE 1 (continued)

retardo ritus robur robus tus sanitas sano j5 For the dotting of deer pelts in Wild Goat-style painting, Greenewalt (supra n. 12) 63 n. 15. 16 Against this possibility of juxtaposed decorative schemes it may be argued that, as dots do not appear on the underbellies of the goats on no. 1, underbelly dots are unlikely to have been an "Ephesian" feature and an idea in the decoration of the goat on no. 18; and that rib cages never are indicated on Wild Goat-style animals (as they are in Corinthian and Lakonian painting). The writer has suggested that misinterpretations of Wild Goat-style convention are to be recognized in outline-and-reserve contours on animals in Lydian and "Sardis Style" (a variant of Wild-Goat-style) painting: on a Lydian kantharos reportedly found in the Burdur area, crouching animals have haunch, shoulder, and jaw contours which look like tails and necking bands; on a "Sardis Style" lebes from Sardis, three deer with

"Ephesian Ware"

113

Certain decorative features of " Ephesian Ware" appear on other examples of Orientalizing pottery recovered and probably made at Sardis. The distinctive pattern band which combines the dogtooth and the series of squares with central dots recurs twice on a skyphos;17 the use of different color schemes for adjacent animals of the same kind (as on the interior of no. 1) and the additional color to shade entire body zones of animals and to outline and shade filling ornament occurs in "Sardis Style" and related Wild Goat-style-variant pottery;18 two additional colors are used on a fruit dish which shows a brown-shaded boar and yellow-hatched pattern ornament.19 A bichrome ware or wares illustrated mainly by dishes and decorated in an " Ephesian "-type color scheme with pattern ornament more or less similar to that of "Ephesian Ware" has been recovered in some quantity (fifty to one hundred examples) at Sardis and in single examples at two other sites of western Asia Minor: a small settlement mound some five miles north of Sardis (by the north shore of the Gygaean Lake, near the modern village of Kilcanlar) and Gordion.20 In general, the quality of slip, glazes, and draughtsmanship bodies dappled in the glaze dots-on-reserve ground system have outline-and-reserve jaw contours (as if drawn for a reserve dots-in-glaze ground dappling system with which inner contours, in order to be readable, would have to be rendered in reserve), although for that system single outline contours would have sufficed; C. H. Greenewalt, Jr., "Lydian Vases from Asia Minor," CSCA 1 (1968) 143ff; idem (supra n. 12) 63. The writer suggested that outline-and-reserve contours articulating reserve zones represent misunderstanding of Wild Goat-style convention and copying by an artist unfamiliar with the Wild Goat style. This feature, however, appears in the rendering of the hares on the Wild Goat-style Leningrad Oinochoe which, although found in the Greek colonial area (at Pantikapaion, in the Crimea), is generally considered a product of an Eastern Greek atelier; Walter (supra n. 2) pi. 94; Kardara (supra n. 10) 67; W. Schiering, Werkstätten orientalisierender Keramik auf Rhodos (Berlin 1957) 66, 99; cf. 1. 17 G. M. A. Richter, Metropolitan Museum of Art Handbook of the Greek Collection (Cambridge, Massachusetts 1953) pi. 32d. "Greenewalt (supra n. 12) 5S-68. The dark glaze of "Sardis Style" pottery is visually similar to that of " Ephesian." The red glaze, however, is much lighter, an orange brown; and the creamy slip is yellower and lacks the smooth surface, the sheen, and the pink and gray casts of " Ephesian " slip. 1» Greenewalt (supra n. 12 ) 72-73, 88-89, no. 18. In reality the brown is much lighter than the dark glaze, although in the CSCA illustration the two are practically indistinguishable. 20 The site north of Sardis was visited by members of the Sardis Expedition in June, 1964. The settlement is defined by a low mound just outside the modern village. Artifacts observed on the surface of the mound ranged from the seventh century B.C. (Protocorinthian skyphos rim) to the Late Ottoman period (pipe bowl). The following preHellenistic pottery fragments were recovered (and stored in the Sardis Expedition compound):

114

Crawford H. Greenewalt, J r .

on these pieces is inferior and the motives are simpler than in " Ephesian Ware." Some of the pieces from Sardis, which the writer has classed with this ware or wares and which are very fragmentary and worn, may be true " Ephesian." The rest, which seem to have circulated no earlier than "Ephesian Ware" (their contexts, however, have not been fully analyzed) look to be imitative: ersatz "Ephesian" or an "Ephesianizing" Anatolian bichrome ware. 21 Of traditional Anatolian wares which circulated in western Asia Minor, the only one with significant parallels to "Ephesian Ware" is a very fine variety of black-on-red ware, which has been found at Ephesos, Sardis, Midas City, and unexcavated mounds by Medet and Kizilhisar in southwest Asia Minor. 22 In this black-on-red ware, the stemmed dish is a common form, the drawing often is fine and neat, and the stemmed-dish decoration features multiple narrow bands of geometric pattern which include the dog-tooth, ladder, and spaced dotted squares (and rays for the bowl). The motives of this ware are not nearly so complex as those of "Ephesian," however, and do not show the same predilection for contoured forms. At present, neither the place (s) of manufacture nor the date of this Anatolian black-on-red ware has been established. Much of it probably was made in western Asia Minor (west of Burdur) ; and excavation records from Sardis, when they have been adequately studied, may provide information about the chronology of examples from that site. If the ware derives from a Cilician black-on-red variety, as has been supposed, some of the material from western Asia Minor might be as early as the eighth century. A class of Anatolian pottery with similarities to " Ephesian Ware " which has not been found in western Asia Minor is the so-called gray-burnished, streaky-glaze, and bichrome wares; one wavy-line closed vessel; lydion ? and lebes rims ; " Ephesian "-type dish rim (decoration in dark and red glaze over pinkish-buff slip with sheen ; inside, narrow bands in dark framing a series of spaced squares, each with a criss-cross in dark and dots in red). About two kilometers east of the village, just to the left and partly cut by the modern road, was a small tumulus with worked stone blocks (including a phallus terminal) lying on the slopes and the level ground nearby. Cf. G. M. A. Hanfmann, " T h e Seventh Campaign at Sardis (1964)," BASOR 177 (1965) 35-36. One " Ephesian "-type dish rim has been recovered at Gordion, in the University of Pennsylvania excavations on the "city mound" (inventoried 5914 P2198). 21 Reference to these appears in the text, supra, just before the catalogue. 22 For fine black-on-red ware, Hogarth Ephesus 223-224 figs. 49, 50 nos. 10, 11; C. H. E. Haspels, "La Cité de Midas, Céramique et Trouvailles Diverses," Phiygie III (Paris 1951) 34fT, 122, pi. 9c; J . Mellaart, "Iron Age Pottery from Southern Anatolia," BelUten 19 (1955) 119-123, 124ff, 133, pis. 4-6.

"Ephesian W a r e "

115

" R i p e Phrygian" style pottery from Gordion, which has been dated to the late eighth-early seventh centuries. " R i p e Phrygian" painting includes contoured and rectilinear motives similar to or identical with those of " E p h e s i a n " dotted lozenges, lozenges with central contours, lozenges with central contours and dots, squares with central contours and dots, checkerboard, criss-crossed squares with dotted borders. The decorative scheme of " R i p e Phrygian" painting, which combines broad bands, stripes, and panels, often in equal proportion, however, is quite different from that of "Ephesian," in which narrow bands sandwich broad registers of animal frieze, ray/tongue pattern, and vacant space. Some favored " R i p e Phrygian" motives, moreover, like oblong checkerboards, chevrons, and maeanders, are rare or absent in " E p h e s i a n " painting. 2 3 Evidence for the chronology of "Ephesian W a r e " is tenuous. The incomplete condition alone of the examples renders suspect the value of external context evidence and limits the potential of internal stylistic evidence. For many items the context material is contaminated by intrusion or has a broad chronological range. The " E p h e s i a n " examples from Ephesos were recovered from the foundations of Artemision D (the "Croesid" building) and its predecessor C (with the possible exception of no. 7, whose provenience is not recorded). Other small finds from these areas included Protocorinthian and Early 23 Whatever the relation of the " R i p e P h r y g i a n " style to Greek Geometric painting, these features of " R i p e P h r y g i a n " should be considered Phrygian, for they are not characteristic of Greek Geometric painting and they are reflected in the designs of contemporary Phrygian wood carving and metal engraving and contemporary and/or later Phrygian rock-cut facades. For Phrygian woodwork, R. S. Young, " G o r d i o n 1956: Preliminary R e p o r t , " AJA 61 (1957) 329-330, pi. opp. 319, pis. 95, 96; idem, " T h e Gordion Campaign of 1957: Preliminary R e p o r t , " AJA 62 (1958) 153-154, pi. 27. For Phrygian metal engraving (on belts), idem, " G o r d i o n of the Royal R o a d , " ProcPhilSoc 107 (1963) 360 fig. 16; cf. J . Boardman, "Excavations in Chios 1952-1955: Greek Emporio," BSA Suppl 6 (1967) 214ff. For Phrygian rock-cut facades, C. H . E. Haspels, The Highlands of Phrygia, Sites and Monuments (Princeton 1971) 73ff, pis. 8ff, 510fT.

For claims of Greek influence in Phrygia, E. Akurgal, Phrygische Kunst (Ankara 1955) 22-50; idem, Die Kunst Anatoliens (Berlin 1961) 77-85; idem, " L e s Problèmes de l'Art Phrygien," Le Rayonnement des Civalisations Grecque et Romaine sur les Cultures Périphériques (Paris 1965) 467-474,488-489; N. Coldstream, Greek Geometric Pottery (London 1968) 378-379. For claims of Phrygian influence in the Greek world, R. S. Young, " G o r d i o n of the Royal R o a d " (supra) 348-364; idem, " G o r d i o n : Problems of Western Phrygia," Le Rayonnement etc. (supra) 481-485; For claims of a koine Geometric style in the Mediterranean area and the Near East during the late second and early first millennia, P. Amandry, Le Rayonnement etc. (supra) 465-488.

116

Crawford H. Greencwalt, J r .

Corinthian pottery 24 and objects of various sorts more-or-less similar to material recovered from the Artemision Basis, "almost all" of which (material) has been considered datable to the seventh century, " a very few . . . later, and one piece only . . . possibly of the eighth century." 2 5 The contexts at Ephesos, therefore, seem to suggest that the " Ephesian" pieces found there circulated in the later seventh century (like the majority of other small finds) and/or in the first half of the sixth (if contemporary with " Croesid" Artemision D); but the integrity of even this relatively broad time period is not entirely secure due to the disturbed conditions of the area around the Artemision foundations. 26 The pre-Hellenistic occupation strata and associated artifacts with which the items from Sardis were found may furnish evidence to suggest a narrower period of time for "Ephesian" items from that site; but further study of these remains is needed (to link context deposits with strata and to resolve questions of absolute chronology) before the context evidence of "Ephesian" pottery from Sardis will permit more than the same broad dating within the second half of the seventh and first half of the sixth centuries for certain items: nos. 12, 14, 15, 18, 19, 20 (the only piece clearly recovered from an occupation floor associated with an appreciable amount of architecture and other small finds), 21, 23, and 24. The contexts of other items were contaminated (with Hellenistic material; nos. 11, 13, 25) or uncertain due to lack of records (nos. 9, 25; the same true for no. 8, from Miletos), insufficient material (nos. 10, 22), or uncertain character (nos. 16, 17, 27). The strongest internal stylistic evidence is provided by the animal friezes of no. 1, whose distinctive and well-documented Wild Hogarth Ephesus 229-231, figs. 57-60. The pointed aryballos illustrated in fig. 60, second from left (no. 33), was identified as Early Corinthian by H. Payne, Necrocorinthia (Oxford 1931) 286 no. 474. From the published photographs of the Corinthian material, D. A. Amyx has opined that none looks later than Early Corinthian, and that those items which are demonstrably Early Corinthian (fig. 60) look early in that phase. Amyx has attributed the alabastron of Late Protocorinthian-Transitional shape illustrated in fig. 60, far left (no. 33), to the Bead Painter; for whose work, idem, AJA 70 (1966) 297. 23 P. Jacobs thai, " T h e Date of the Ephesian Foundation-Deposit," JHS 71 (1951) 85. 26 The disturbed deposit of nos. 3 and 6 is specifically recorded, Hogarth Ephesos 222; 4Iff. The white-ground pottery fragment illustrated in pi. 49.6, presumably recovered in the Artemision excavations (although not mentioned in Hogarth Ephesus) cannot be earlier than the late sixth century.

PLATES

1. Profiles of "Ephesian W a r e " rim fragments. At top, dishes; from left to right, nos. 1,5, 18, 19, 16. At bottom, lid, no. 25.

3£ %Or

ILLLl LLLITTE CDXÜJTTTTTIXTTII

est

Säl-|-i«l"l-lMÉMM®I

l i T T T K l l nan

11

Mil

GETlrnEHTr;H

KBJEHKU M l ana •rai'i'i'i'i'T

ce of the work in association with lydiaka in verses of Hipponax (floruit ca. 540), whose vocabulary included western Anatolian words used in Lydian (e.g., irakfivs) and who mentioned bakkaris in the same context with Croesus and Daskyleion, V. O. Masson, Les Fragments du Poite Hipponax (Paris 1962) 79, 155 (fr. 104) and (on irdXfiiK/qaXmXu) Gusmani (supra) 179-180, 276-277; in the Lydians of Magnes (late sixth-early fifth centuries); a n d in the Omphaie of Ion, where it is linked with Zap&iavw Koapav. For the theory that bakkaris might have been distributed in the distinctive containers now called lydia, A. R u m p f , "Lydische Salbgefasse," AM 45 (1920) 163-170. For other Lydian products, C. Roebuck, Ionian Trade and Colonization (Monographs on Archaeology and Fine Arts I X ; New York 1959) 56-57. For Sardians at Susa, R . G. Kent, Old Persian (American Oriental Series X X X I I I ; New Haven 1953) 142-144; C. Nylander, lonians at Pasargardae (Uppsala 1970). 34 Greenewalt (supra n. 12) 55-89; idem, " T w o Lydian Graves at Sardis," CSCA 5 (1972) nls. 1, 2 ; G. M . A. H a n f m a n n , " T h e Fourth Campaign at Sardis (1961)," BASOR 166 (1962) 23 fig. 16 (if local rather than Aeolic); H a n f m a n n , J . C. W a l d b a u m , " T h e Eleventh a n d Twelfth Campaigns at Sardis (1968, 1969)," BASOR 199 (1970) 35-36 figs. 24, 25; H a n f m a n n , R . S. Thomas, " T h e Thirteenth Campaign at Sardis (1970)," BASOR 203 (1971) 11 fig. 4; T . L. Shear, " T e r r a - C o t t a s , " Sardis X (Cambridge 1926) figs. 3, 4 ; K. Schefold, "Knidische Vasen und Verwandtes," Jdl 57 (1942) 133 figs. 3, 4. Less provincial looking is the painted decoration of " E a r l y Fikellura" pottery from Sardis,

"Ephesian Ware"

121

35

artisans ) theoretically should have been able to produce painted pottery of exceptional quality, "Ephesian Ware" is an anomaly among the Sardian Eastern Greek-style material so-far studied; and as an anomaly cautions against dogmatic endorsement of Sardis as the place where "Ephesian Ware" was produced and prompts further consideration of the claims of Ephesos. Ephesos is reported to have had more cultural and political associations with Lydians than any other Eastern Greek township 36 and has yielded art works which include non-Greek as well as Greek elements, like the sculptural column drums of the Artemision and the ivory figurines with "mixhellenic," "anatolisch-ionisch" features 37 (which some scholars have attributed to an Ephesian atelier). Might not Ephesos have fostered a unique class of vase painting which combined Greek and Anatolian decorative ideas ? The locale of production might be more obvious if the fundamental character of "Ephesian" decorative style were more apparent: is the style essentially Eastern Greek with idiosyncratic or Anatolian features, or is it hellenized Anatolian ? The predominance of pattern and the vacant areas on surviving fragments indicate that Eastern Wild Goat-style animal friezes may not have been a regular " Ephesian " decorative element; 38 but neither were they on " Rhodian " and other Eastern Greek Orientalizing dishes (the predominant "Ephesian" shape). The ambivalence of (Greek and Anatolian) comparanda to the ubiquitous "Ephesian" pattern ornament obscures the possible derivation of the pattern. Might "Ephesian Ware" have been a lender in the transmission of decorative ideas, however, as well as or instead of a borrower? Might this splendid ware, so superior in decorative fabric and draughtsfor whose place of production there is not clear evidence, Greenewalt, "Fikellura a n d Early Fikellura Pottery from Sardis," CSCA 4 (1971) 153-180. 33 Milesians were residing in Sardis as early as the later fourth century, as an inscription of that date from Miletos reports, G. Kawerau, A. Rehm, " Das Delphinion in Milet," Milet 1.3 (Berlin 1914) 162-165 no. 135: 21-24; cf. U. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, GGA (1914) 89f. ( = idem, Kleine Schri/ien V (Berlin 1937) 4 4 3 f ) ; D. Magie, Roman Rule in Asia Minor (Princeton 1950) 975 n. 5. T h e same inscription reports Sardians resident in Miletos; for Phrygians in Miletos, Hipponax fr. 27 in Masson (supra n. 34) 61, 119-120. 3« Paus. 2.7.8. 31 J . D. Beazley, B. Ashmole, "Greek Sculpture and Painting to the End of the Hellenistic Period (Cambridge 1932) 5; Akirgal (supra n. 29) 209. 38 T h e many examples of " Ephesian "-type pottery from Sardis and other sites in western Asia Minor all lack animal-frieze decoration; their decoration consists of pattern ornament.

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manship to the familiar classes of Eastern Greek Orientalizing pottery, illustrate the paradeigmatic "Eastern Greek" style, hitherto familiar to us from imitative " R h o d i a n " and other Ionic classes? The examples which document "Ephesian W a r e " are too fragmentary to permit an answer to this question: there simply is not enough complete vase decoration, particularly of the Wild Goat-style friezes and floral chains, to demonstrate the degree of originality. The manneristic look of certain decorative features—the fastidious multi-contouring of ornamental motives together with faultless definition of animal figure forms, the linear, "mechanical" rendering of the lotus flower and bud on no. 18, the methodical arrangement of dots in parallel rows on the lotus flower petals and the goat's body on the same piece, and the unnaturalistic hooks on the bodies of the goats on nos. 1 and 18—might indicate that "Ephesian" Eastern Greek-type decoration is essentially decorative ; but mannerism is not necessarily a symptom of copywork, and what looks to be fussy fetish in "Ephesian" painting may be no more indicative of the painters' unfamiliarity with Eastern Greek-type formulas than similar mannerism in the style of the Tyskiewicz and Pan Painters is of the foreignness of Attic Red-figure painting conventions to those two artists. Fundamental questions about "Ephesian Ware" remain to be resolved: whether the ware was produced in an Eastern Greek or a non-Greek community (of which Ephesos and Sardis at present are respectively the strongest candidates); whether it is essentially Eastern Greek or Anatolian or an even mixture; and whether the Eastern Greek-type features of the decoration are derivative or inspirational or merely exceptional. 39 University of California Berkeley The Austrian Archaeological Institute excavations directed by A. Bammer at the Altar of Artemis (west of the Artemision) at Ephesos have yielded further examples of "Ephesian W a r e " (about which Dr. Bammer kindly informed the writer after this article had been written). One fragment (71/K70) preserves a band of spaced rectangles and a frieze bordered with triangle(s ?) and roundel; fragments of a globular container (72/K34) preserve pattern decoration (series of closely-spaced squares with centers shaded alternately dark and red, ladder bands, rays) and plain glaze zones; for the latter, A. Bammer, "Neue Beiträge zur ephesischen Architektur: (1) Die Entwicklung des Opferkultes am Altar der Artemis von Ephesos," JOAI50 (forthcoming) fig. 15d. These items are scheduled to be published in detail by F. Brein (Institut für Alte Geschichte, Archäologie und Epigraphik, University of Vienna). For photographs and information about this material and permission to record information here, the writer is indebted to Dr. Bammer.

E R I C H S. G R U E N

The Supposed Alliance between Rome and Philip V of Macedon R o m a n hegemony in Italy was complete a n d unchallengeable at the end of the third century B.C. T h e instruments of control— military and diplomatic—had been h a m m e r e d out over the course of three centuries. A complex network of relationships between R o m e and Italian communities anchored the dominion of the principal city. Shrewdly conceived and flexible institutions linked together the states of the peninsula and bolstered R o m a n authority. Not the least of those institutions was Rome's practice of concluding treaties of alliance with defeated foes. Annihilation of the enemy served no useful purpose; the foedus created socii bound to R o m e a n d obligated to provide military contingents. T h e obligations were m u t u a l — b u t the authority of the hegemony was unquestioned. W h e n R o m a n interests extended to the east, however, the system was not readily transferable. Bilateral commitments would be more difficult to enforce and overseas entanglements might be inconvenient and inexpedient. It is tempting to imagine R o m e stumbling about, confused and bewildered by the unfamiliar intricacies of Hellenistic diplomacy, attempting with mixed success to graft her own institutions upon a recalcitrant system. But that image prejudges what should be a prior question: did R o m e seek to contract or impose enduring treaties of alliance east of the Adriatic ? T h e question is, of course, hardly n e w ; an extensive bibliography can attest to the fact. But one central item—oddly—has

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received 110 serious treatment: the alleged avfifiaxia between Rome and Philip V of Macedon in 196 B.C. The second Macedonian War was Rome's first major military conflict in the Hellenistic world. Its settlement could institute a pattern for all future commitments in the east. Philip was defeated and humbled by Roman might. Did Rome then conclude a treaty of alliance with the conquered foe, following precedents long established in Italy? The matter warrants careful examination. A peace treaty naturally followed the termination of hostilities. The agreement was ratified in Rome and implemented in Greece by the victorious commander T. Quinctius Flamininus, in consultation with the usual ten-man commission, during the winter of 197/6. T h e terms set out in the senatus consultum are duly recorded by Polybius; they involve concessions by the conquered to the conqueror: withdrawal of garrisons, restoration of prisoners and deserters, surrender of warships, payment of indemnity. 1 Those items will not concern us here. But a further step, more pertinent to this inquiry, was contemplated in the late summer of 196. One of the Roman commissioners met with Philip at Tempe and suggested that he send envoys to Rome to seek a avfifiaxia; otherwise the king might seem to await a new opportunity for resuming hostilities, in conjunction with Antiochus I I I of Syria. 2 Philip, hardly in a position to refuse, acquiesced and promised to despatch the envoys. 3 T h a t is the last we hear of the matter. An intriguing silence pervades the sources thereafter. Did the alliance come to fruition? Modern scholars have sometimes noticed the question in passing—yet none has offered argument or discussion. 4 A reconsideration is in order. 1 Polyb. 18.44; Appian, Mac. 9.3; Plut. Flam. 9.5. Dubious accretions arc to be found in later sources; Livy, 33.30; Zonaras, 9.16; Justin, 30.4.17. Among numerous discussions, see E. Täubler, Imperium Romanum (Leipzig 1913) 1.228-239; G. De Sanctis, Storia dei Romani (2nd ed. Florence 1969) IV.1.93, n. 185; J . A. O. Larsen, CP 31 (1936) 342-346; F. W. Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius (Oxford 1967) 11.609-612. 2 Polyb. 18.48.3—4: ol Si ircpt /Vauw TOV KopvrjXiov.. .awtßovXfvov avrüi irpcaßctrras IRTFIIRTW ET? TTJV 'Pw^iifv vntp av^La^las, Iva FIRJ Sotcfj T O I S Kcupols ¿fe&pcvwv anoKapaSoKtlv TTJV 'AVTIOXOV irapovoiav. The account is reproduced by Livy, 33.35.2-6. 3 Polyb. 18.48.5; Livy, 33.35.7. * See, e.g., Walbank, Philip V of Macedon (Cambridge 1940) 183; Commentary, 11.620. Walbank suggests that the agreement involved full societas, a regular foedus (whatever that may mean—surely a foedus in the sense of Rome's treaties with her Italian allies cannot be imagined). Walbank cites as authorities A. Heuss, Die völkerrechtlichen Grundlagen der römischen Aussenpolitik in republikanischer Zeit (Klio Beiheft 31, Leipzig 1933) 37, and A. Aymard, Les premiers rapports de Rome et de la Confederation Achaienne (Bordeaux 1938) 219, n. 24. But neither scholar presents any argumentation. Heuss, in fact, is more cautious than Walbank

The Supposed Alliance between Rome and Philip V 125 It is relevant to observe, first of all, that if Rome did conclude a formal alliance with Philip, the event would be most unusual, perhaps unique, in this period. 5 The senate was not at all eager to establish permanent and official ties to eastern states in the 190s. Antibchus of Syria discovered that attitude to his regret. In 195 he sent ambassadors to Flamininus in Elatia to inquire about societas. Flamininus denied competence in the matter and suggested that the envoys apply to Rome. 6 No issue resulted, to our knowledge. Antiochus tried again in 193, despatching a legation to Rome to request a formal foedus sociale. Subsequent negotiations are disputed, but the outcome is clear: the conditions demanded by the Romans made any treaty impossible. 7 Yet the king seems to have made still another attempt, later in 193, offering a number of concessions to Roman legates in Asia Minor in return for a treaty. His offer was once more rebuffed. 8 The Achaean League met with similar frustration. In 198 the Confederacy, after much dissension, voted to join Rome in her war on Philip, but the question of a formal alliance was shelved for the time being. 9 Once the war was concluded, Achaean envoys appeared in Rome to request a av^ifiaxia; the senate raised some problems, declined a decision, and referred the matter to its ten commissioners charged with arranging a post-war settlement. 10 Nothing, apparently, materialized. No hint appears in the sources that any alliance was consummated implies, affirming only—and correctly—that Rome suggested an alliance to Philip; op. cit. 37, 85; cf. Taubler (supra n. 1) 1.226. Other modern notices are similarly abrupt and without discussion. Larsen, Greek Federal States (Oxford 1968) 397, simply asserts " it is safe to conclude that the treaty actually was negotiated." E. Badian, Foreign ClimUlae (Oxford 1958) 92, 164, doubts that Philip got a treaty of mutual assistance, but allows his reception into alliance. De Sanctis (supra n. 1) IV. 1.102, n. 213, expresses uncertainty, but opts for an informal agreement in which Philip could be called upon to provide military aid. 5 It is possible that Carthage became a socius et amicus of Rome after the Hannibalic War. Such, at least, is affirmed by Appian, Lib. 54, 83. And Livy implies that the peace treaty involved military obligations on Carthage's part; 36.4.9. But Polybius' account of the terms contains no such provision; 15.18; cf. Livy, 30.37.1-6; Dio, 17.82. In any case the settlement with Carthage, a proximate and fearsome foe, need not have affected Rome's attitude toward relationships with eastern states. « Livy, 34.25.2. 7 Livy, 34.57-59; Diod. 28.15; Appian, Syr. 6. For discussion, see Badian, Studies in Greek and Roman History (New York 1964) 126-127; J . P. V. D. Balsdon, Phoenix 21 (1967) 187-189. ' Appian, Syr. 12; cf. Livy, 35.15-16. Appian's notice should not be dismissed; cf. Badian (supra n. 7) 138, n. 78. 9 Livy, 32.23.1-2. 10 Polyb. 18.42.6-7.

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in the 190s—not even where one would expect: in the discussions on Roman-Achaean cooperation during the wars against Nabis in 195 and against Antiochus and the Aetolians beginning in 192. 11 The Achaeans did eventually get their foedus. But the first unambiguous reference to it does not come until 183/2 when the alliance was renewed. 1 2 The time of its inception remains a matter of guesswork—and speculation would not be profitable. 13 But nothing precludes a date in 189 or a little later, after the Syrian and Aetolian wars, at a time when Rome finally consented to give a treaty to the Aetolians as well. 1 4 The Roman posture of eschewing definite commitments in the East held firm during the 190s. One may go further. It is most doubtful that Rome had contracted enduring foedera which involved mutual obligations with any state east of the Adriatic prior to 189. Associations developed after the Illyrian wars certainly did not possess that character. Corcyra, Apollonia, Epidamnus, Issa, the Parthini, and the Atintanes submitted to Roman fides and were accepted as amici.15 By 215 the Romans could be described as xvpioi over these and other places in Illyria and northwest Greece—they were reckoned as Rome's dependencies, not her allies. 16 A avfifiaxia was, of course, concluded with Aetolia in 212 or 211. 11 See, especially, Livy, 34.24 ; 34.32; 35.49. Cf. Badian, JRS 42 (1952) 77-78. The Achaean vote in 192 to have the same friends and enemies as Rome makes no sense if there was already an alliance between the two states; Livy, 35.50.1-2. And Flamininus' angry comment in 191 that the Romans had not fought at Thermopylae for the benefit of the Achaeans would be strange indeed if there were a formal ovpiiax'a> Livy, 36.32.2. The Achaean troops sent to Asia in 190 were explicitly based on a treaty with Eumenes, not with Rome; Polyb. 21.3b; cf. Livy, 32.23.1; 37.20. 12 Polyb. 23.4.12. Subsequent references in Polyb. 23.9.12; 23.17.3; 24.11.6; 24.13.3; 28.13.5; Paus. 7.9.4. The complaint of Lycortas in 184 indicates that the treaty was in effect by that time; Livy, 39.37.10: si foedus ratum est, si societas et amicitia ex aequo observatur. Polybius' discussion in 24.11-13 is undated and cannot be safely employed for chronological exactitude. •3 For various guesses, ranging from 196 to 183, see, e.g., Täubler (supra n. 1) 1.219-228; Lanen, CP 30 (1935) 212-214; Aymard (supra n. 4) 261-267; Badian, JRS 42 (1952) 76-80; A. M. Castellani, Cent. 1st. Fil. Class. 1 (1963) 84-86; G. A. Lehmann, Untersuchungen zur historischen Glaubwürdigkeit des Polybios (Münster 1967) 233, n. 180. l* Polyb. 21.31-32; Livy, 38.10-11. Note also that the treaty of Apamea gave Antiochus a friendship "for all time"; Polyb. 21.43.1: tfuXiav vnapxtiv 'Avrioxtp Kal *Puifiaiots eis äiroarra TOV %povov TTOIOVVTI RA Kara raff owfrjicas. 15 Polyb. 2.11.5; 2.11.8; 2.11.10-12; 2.12.2. Polybius employs the terms iritrns, ¿lAta, and tmrpowfi. According to Appian these states were "left free"; Appian III. 8. Demetrius of Pharus evidently also became an amicus; cf. Polyb. 2.11.17; 3.16.2; 3.16.4; Dio, fr. 53. 1« Polyb. 7.9.13 (in the treaty between Philip and Hannibal).

The Supposed Alliance between Rome and Philip V 127 But its purpose was to secure assistance against Philip in the First Macedonian War—and its terms imply a temporary alliance for the duration of the conflict. 17 T o be sure, the Aetolians ventured to appeal to this pact at a much later date, claiming it was still in force. 18 But that was certainly not the Roman view. 19 Other Greek states too fought on the Roman side in the First Macedonian W a r : Sparta, Elis, Messene, and Pergamum. Relationships were inaugurated between them and Rome: the Aetolian treaty had explicitly invited their participation, on the same terms— terms of amicitia be it noted. 2 0 In 195 Nabis of Sparta, like the Aetolians, could still appeal to his pact, as if it remained in force: a vetustissimum foedus, he alleged. 21 The agreement itself may be accepted as a fact; the allegation that it had enduring force is special pleading. Certainly neither Rome nor Sparta had acted as if it were still binding after conclusion of the First Macedonian War. Nabis felt free to attack Messene in 201 and even came to an agreement with Philip in 198/7 when the latter was at war with Rome. 2 2 The Romans registered no complaint in 201; and they forgave quickly and easily in 197 when Nabis offered to switch sides once again. 2 3 The complaints were retrospective: they came in 195 when Rome was seeking pretexts for a war on Nabis. And even then Flamininus charged the Spartan with violation of amicitia et societas, not with the breaking of a treaty. 24 That Nabis—or rather Livy—employed the term foedus should not mislead. It was, no doubt, a translation of avfifiaxia or owdfjiccu, neither of which contains the technical implications of a foedus with lasting mutual obligations. 25 17 SEG 13.382; Livy, 26.24.8-13; cf. Polyb. 9.37.5; 9.38.5. This is not the place for extended analysis of that much discussed treaty. That it was intended as a temporary avfifiaxia is argued anew and persuasively by W. Dahlheim, Struktur und Entwicklung des römischen Völkerrechtes (Munich 1968) 181-207—with full bibliography. 18 Polyb. 18.38.7; 18.47.8; 18.48.7; Livy, 33.13.9-10; 33.34.7; 33.49.8. 1» Polyb. 18.38.8-9; Livy, 33.13.11-12; cf. Appian, Mac. 4. Badian, Titus Quinctius Flamininus (Semple Lecture 1970) 48-53, suggests a preference for the Aetolian view—a preference he retracts in a recent private letter. His account should not be taken to imply that the Aetolian treaty was anything but a temporary alliance. 20 Livy, 26.24.9: eodem iure amicitiae. 21 Livy, 34.31.5. Messene had obtained a similar agreement; Livy, 34.32.16. So also, apparently, Elis; Polyb. 18.42.7. 22 Polyb. 16.13.3; Livy, 32.38.2-4 ; 34.32.16-19. 23 Livy, 32.39.1-10. 24 Livy, 34.32.14-20. 25 So, most recently, Dahlheim (supra n. 17) 221-229, who provides reference to the scholarly literature. Dahlheim, however, unnecessarily charges Livy with an error in his use of the term. Foedus too could have varied meanings. And Livy need not

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In the case of Pergamum, we have Polybius' term for her cooperation with Rome in the late third century: Koivonpayia—a nontechnical term, if ever there was one. 26 Rome was accumulating amid, but not binding herself to formal socii. Nor did the Second Macedonian War witness any change in that posture. Envoys from Athens, Rhodes, and Attalus of Pergamum arrived in Rome in 201 to request assistance against Philip. But they cited no treaty which Rome was obliged to honor. 27 Our information on Rhodes is unambiguous and definitive: the proud island Republic did not receive or even seek an official alliance with Rome until after 167.28 By the same token we need not postulate formal ties for Pergamum and Athens to explain their collaboration with Rome against Philip. Aetolia joined the war on Rome's side in 199. No sign here of a foedus— which would have required senatorial ratification. 29 The Achaeans voted for societas with Rome in 198, but, as we have seen, they obtained no proper alliance during the course of the war. 30 Nor is there any reason to imagine that other states who fought on Rome's behalf acquired binding guarantees. 31 In these circumstances, it will demand very strong evidence indeed to believe that Rome accorded Philip a avmutxut i n 196. The information supplied by Polybius, as noted above, takes us no further than a Roman suggestion to Philip that he despatch representatives to seek alliance. The outcome of that mission is not recorded. Livy registers only the return of the senatorial commissioners in 195: their communication was a simple announcement of what had been imply that the pact between Rome and Sparta was intended to be permanent. Even Nabis bases his argument not on the vetustissimum foedus, but on the amicitia ac societas, taper Philippi hello renovate; Livy, 34.31.5. A different view in Lanen, JJtS 60 (1970) 218-219. 26 Polyb. 16.25.4. Note too Livy's phrase cum Attalo rege propter commune adoersus Philippum bellum coeptam amtcitiam esse; Livy, 29.11.2. On Pergamene collaboration with Rome, see R. B. McShane, The Foreign Polity of the Attalids of Pergamum (Urbana 1964) 105-122. 21 Livy, 31.1.10-31.2.2. 2» Polyb. 30.5.6-8; 30.23.3; Livy, 45.25.9. 2® Livy, 31.40.9. Roman envoys had simply offered Aetolia the opportunity restituendi vos in amieitiam societatemque nostram; Livy, 31.31.20. 3® Livy, 32.23.1-2. Appian, Mac. 7, depicts their cooperation as based merely on an agreement with Flamininus. Rome wanted military assistance, not formal ties. 3' The societas voted by the Boeotians is put by Livy in the same category as that of the Achaeans; Livy, 33.2.6; 33.2.9—hence not a permanent treaty and not ratified in Rome.

The Supposed Alliance between Rome and Philip V 129 accomplished with regard to Philip and the terms on which peace was concluded. 3 2 The solution to our problem must rest on inference from subsequent actions and behavior. Philip did send forces, fifteen hundred Macedonians, to assist Rome in her war on Nabis, in 195. 33 That was prudent and circumspect, but does not entail the existence of a formal alliance. The Thessalians also contributed cavalry to the effort; yet no one will claim that Thessaly possessed afoedus. And Rhodian ships were employed as well, though Rhodes certainly eschewed an official au/i/iaxia. 34 Philip's contribution, however, bolstered his confidence in obtaining Rome's favor. In the winter of 194/3 he sent emissaries to Rome to solicit the return of his son Demetrius, a hostage since the close of the war, and a reduction of his indemnity. The senate's response was cordial but temperate. They promised to grant his requests in the future—if he should maintain his loyalty. Diodorus' guarded expression, v\drTOVTOS avrov TT)V TTLCTTIV, betrays no hint that afoedus underlay the relationship. 35 And Rome did not, in fact, fulfill the promises for another three years. War clouds gathered in 193 as Roman relations with Antiochus became increasingly strained. As we have seen, envoys from Antiochus approached the senate to ask for a treaty of alliance. One of their remarks, as transmitted by Livy, deserves special notice. Annoyed at Rome's insistence upon imposing conditions on any agreement, the envoys asserted that such dictation was proper in dealing with a defeated foe, not with an equal and a friend. A pointed and explicit contrast is here drawn between the foedus which Antiochus desired and the pax which Philip had obtained. 3 6 The statement makes little sense if Philip possessed (or if Livy believed that he possessed) a foedus societatis with Rome. Greek resentment toward Rome centered in the Aetolian League. The Aetolians felt aggrieved at securing a lesser share of the victors' spoils than they had anticipated. Already in 197 they laid the 32 Livy, 33.44.5-6: quae cum Philippo acta essent et quibus legibus data pax. 33 Livy, 34.26.10. 34 Livy, 34.26.10-11. In his discussion with Nabis, Flamininus even refers to Philip as hostis nosier; Livy, 34.32.17. T h a t , to be sure, is an allusion to the Second Macedonian War—but still an odd designation if Philip were now a Roman ally. 35 Diod. 28.15.1; cf. Livy, 35.31.5. 3« Livy, 34.57.6-11; see, especially, 34.57.11: cum Philippo enim hoste pacem, turn cum Antiocho amico societatis foedus ita sanciendum esse.

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groundwork for their anti-Roman propaganda. An Aetolian representative at the peace conference insisted that Philip had to be dealt with mercilessly: anything less than execution or his removal from the throne would entail a continuing menace to Greece. 37 The Aetolians found bitter disappointment in the settlement. 38 And the bitterness grew after the Isthmian proclamation of 196. Aetolian propagandists denounced the "freedom of Greece" as pious hypocrisy: Rome had simply substituted herself for Philip as master of Hellas. 39 Again in 195, when Flamininus endeavored to gather support for a war on Nabis, the Aetolians railed at Roman deceit. Their spokesman pointed out that Rome had felt it necessary to expel Philip's garrisons from Corinth, Chalcis, and Demetrias in the name of Greek liberty but had then proceeded to occupy those key sites herself; now she was using Nabis as a pretext for retaining her armies in Greece. 40 The charges were numerous and heated. But not once did Aetolia allude to a avufiaxia between Rome and Macedon. An extraordinary and revealing omission. Nothing could better have stoked the fires of Aetolian propaganda than a claim that Philip and the Romans were linked in alliance, a dual hegemony to enslave Greece. But the supposed avfi/iaxia nowhere receives attention from Aetolian orators. Tensions advanced to the breaking point in 193. The Aetolians began to sound out various powers in preparation for open hostilities against Rome. A representative approached Philip and attempted to goad him into war on the Aetolian side. Appeals were made to the king's pride: reminders of the ancient renown of Macedonia, a contrast with the dismal fortunes she had recently suffered, a promise that Antiochus would join the fray and Hannibal too—the Romans could not withstand such a coalition. But there is not the smallest suggestion that Philip's acquiescence would require violation of an alliance with Rome. 41 Philip refrained from collaboration with the Aetolians. But Rome was by no means sure of his loyalty. A report gained currency in 192 that the senate planned to transfer Demetrias, formerly site of 37 Polyb. 18.36.5-9; 18.37.11; Livy, 33.12.3-4; 33.12.12. 38 Polyb. 18.38.3-7; 18.47.8; 18.48.6-8; Livy, 33.13.6-12; 33.35.10-11; 33.44.7; 34.22.4. 39 Polyb. 18.45.1-7; Livy, 33.31.1-3. «0 Livy, 34.23.8-10. 41 Livy, 35.12.10-14. Contrast the bitterly divided debate in Achaea when the question of joining Rome meant the breaking of an alliance with Philip; Livy, 32.19-22.

The Supposed Alliance between Rome and Philip V 131 a major Macedonian installation, back to the king. Flamininus took care not to rebut the charge. H e preferred to dangle the hope before Philip: better to incur the wrath of Demetrias' leaders than to alienate the Macedonian. 4 2 The incident discloses Roman uncertainty about Philip—a further hint that the senate had no official claims on his fidelity. Antiochus and the Aetolians, in fact, continued to hope for Philip's cooperation in the following year. Livy puts into the mouth of Hannibal, now an adviser to Antiochus, a speech urging further appeals to the Macedonian monarch. The expectation was not empty, so Hannibal claimed: Philip was chafing under the Roman yoke, a servitude imposed in the guise of peace. 43 Whatever substance lay in that speech, the words do not easily apply to a man who possessed foedus with Rome. Philip eventually elected to support the Roman cause in that war. It is alleged by Livy that the king offered troops, money, and supplies which were politely declined. That notice is not likely to be authentic. 4 4 Philip's assistance was, in fact, welcome. And Livy elsewhere indicates that the Macedonian did not offer it until stung by a personal affront from Antiochus: hitherto he had hesitated and awaited the call of fortune. 45 In either case, there is no indication that Philip's support was dictated by treaty obligations. The terms of his aid were worked out on an ad hoc basis, in consultation with the Roman propraetor operating in Greece. 46 The prospective spoils of war were arranged in the course of campaigning—an informal agreement with the commander of Rome's forces, M'. Acilius Glabrio. 47 The conduct of the war in 191 need not be explored here. Suffice it to say that Rome and Philip participated each for his own 42 Livy, 35.31.4-13; especially, 35.31.7: ita disserendum erat, ne timorem vanum iis demendo spes incisa Philippum abalienaret, in quo plus ad omnia momenti quam in Magnetibus tsset. Livy, 36.7.1-15; especially, 36.7.12: fremere Philippum et aegre pati sub specie pacis leges servitutis sibi impositas. Cf. Appian, Syr. 14. 44 Livy, 36.4.1; 36.4.4; cf. Walbank (supra n. 4) 200-201. 45 Livy, 36.8.3-6: qui ad id tempus fortunam esset habiturus in consilio; Appian, Syr. 16. De Sanctis (supra n. 1) IV. 1.149-150, prefers to stress Realpolitik and doubts the impact of the personal insult. 4« Livy, 36.8.6; 36.10.10; Appian, Syr. 16. The remark of Zonaras, 9.19, rats yap irpoi TOVS 'Putfuxlois OfioXoylais ó Maicc&wv ipficfievrjKf, is a reference to the peace treaty of 196, not to an alliance. 47 Livy, 39.23.10; 39.25.3-5.

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purposes. And Roman leaders were careful to check the king's zeal, curbing activities which seemed to presage excessive territorial aggrandizement. 48 Philip recognized the coolness. He even sent out feelers to Aetolia, indicating that he would not be averse to a future rapprochement. 49 He evidently could not rely on any enduring av^xfia^ia with Rome. Nonetheless, once the war in Greece seemed under control, the senate was prepared to reward Philip for his contribution. In the winter of 191/0 envoys of the king appeared in Rome to underline the goodwill he had shown. The claim was based on his «woia and TrpoOvfiia —not on the fulfillment of duties as an ally. The senate expressed its gratitude: Philip's son Demetrius was released and a promise made to cancel the remainder of his indemnity if he persisted in his loyalty during the present crisis.50 Not that the Romans, even then, had any guarantees of Philip's allegiance. In the following spring the Scipios were obliged to march their forces through Macedonia and Thrace in order to invade Antiochus' dominions. Philip's attitude was crucial— and the Scipios were in considerable doubt about his cooperation. An emissary had to be sent to test Philip's frame of mind; only after receiving strong assurances could the commanders expect a safe passage through the king's territory. 51 The Roman anxiety accords ill with a notion that Philip was bound in formal alliance. Safe passage was, in fact, provided. And Philip contributed money and supplies, built bridges, repaired roads, and gave his subjects leave to volunteer for the Roman forces.52 A conspicuous display of accommodation. The Macedonian could hope for return benefits—like « Cf. Livy, 36.25.5-8; 36.34.1-36.35.6; Plut. Flam. 15.4-5; Zonaras, 9.19. «» Polyb. 20.11.7-8; Livy, 36.29.6-11. 50 Polyb. 21.3.1-3; Livy, 36.35.12-13; Appian, Mac. 9.5. Plutarch adds t h a t among the favors granted to Philip by the senate was a vote to make him an ally; Plut. Flam. 14.2: xai ovufiaxov fi/nrftoayTo. T h e passage should not be taken as reference to an actual foedxis. It certainly has no connection with the negotiations conducted in 196. Plutarch explicidy places the alleged vote at the time of Rome's freeing of Demetrius a n d agreement to remit the indemnity; i.e., in 191/0. And Polybius' language, in fact, rules out a permanent alliance framed in 191/0. H e asserts that R o m e engaged to cancel the indemnity if Philip kept faith in the present circumstances; Polyb. 21.3.3: Sia^vAafavros avrov rqv irtortv tv TO is cwoTwn xatpofr. Appian's remark, Syr. 20, that Philip was rewarded for his ovpnax'" refers simply to his cooperation in the Syrian war; cf. Appian, Mac. 9.5: owtpaxrjo* 'Pui^aloa o QlAnrnos. 51 Livy, 37.7.8-14. 52 Livy, 37.7.13; 37.7.16; 37.39.12; 39.28.8-9; Appian, Mac. 9.5; Syr. 23; Zonaras, 9.20.

T h e Supposed Alliance between Rome and Philip V 133 the swift remission of his indemnity. But it is noteworthy that Rome did not demand, or even expect, military assistance. The war against Antiochus was fought by Romans, Pergamenes, and Rhodians. One incident in the war deserves remark here. Antiochus sought to obtain the assistance of Prusias of Bithynia who feared that Roman invasion aimed at deposing all Asian princes. But a carefully worded letter to Prusias from the Scipios undermined the effort. They pointed out that Rome had stripped no monarch of his kingdom—and indeed had treated several of them most generously. Among the examples cited was that of Philip himself. The letter was explicit: Philip, though conquered in war, had displayed evvoia; the senate consequently returned his son and other hostages, cancelled his tribute, and even restored many of his territorial possessions.53 In this context it would have strengthened the Scipios' case immeasurably to have mentioned the crvfificcxla with Philip—had there been one. The letter passes over it in silence. Hostilities resumed in Greece. Philip once more became involved—again on the Roman side, but, as usual, for his own purposes. Fighting came to a close at last in 189. It was Rome who imposed the settlement on Aetolia and her allies. And it was Rome who arranged the peace with Antiochus in 188. The details are not pertinent. But it may be observed that Philip can hardly have been pleased with the territorial arrangements that followed. His participation in the campaigns had gained him little. If Philip possessed a foedus with Rome, it had not proved to be advantageous. 54 The last decade of Philip's life, according to the Polybian tradition, witnessed increasing discord in Roman-Macedonian relations. A series of embassies moved between the two states, investigating and equivocating over Philip's presumed transgressions, without definitive result. Intrigue or misunderstanding culminated in tragedy: the assassination of Demetrius, followed by Philip's death and the accession of Perseus in 179. That sorry tale need not be rehearsed. But nowhere in all the evidence on these dealings is there any allusion to a avmnxxla.55 53 Polyb. 21.11.9; Livy, 37.25.11-12; Appian, Syr. 23. For the events and for Philip'» attitude, see Walbank (supra n. 4) 212-221. One is not surprised to learn that when Roman troops on their homeward journey were ambushed by Thracians, suspicion fastened on Philip as instigator of the attacks; Livy, 38.40.7-8. 55 On these yean, see De Sanctis (supra n. 1) IV.1.242-250; Walbank (supra n. 4) 22J-257. 5 'werfe')?"

226

Jaan Puhvcl

mann was really discussing the préfixai nonelision and occasional noncontact aspiration of ¿iriopKoslflopieos " peijury " and its possible parallel «maAnjç/e^iaAnjs " nightmare," which latter he considered a transformation of rpriaXos " fever-chill " ( > èirtaXoç > inuxrrjs > ftâX-rrjç) under popular association with «âXXoficu " leap upon " (cf. Hesychius itaXrqs6 ¿imrqSûv, and Latin incubus). In the proper name 'EfyitxXnjs, on the other hand, he saw an agent noun of ¿iruxXXto (future tmaXœ in Aristophanes, Nubes 1299, quoted above) beside ¿laXXw (ovS' ¿uxAeîç in Aristophanes, Vespae 1348, êpyw 'iaXovfiev in Pax 432), 14 and took the aspiration as a pointer towards associating iaAAo> with âXXofiat. Frisk and Chantraine dutifully bring up Herodian's iaAAou15 but then dismiss the aspiration as probably popular and perhaps due to association with 'ijfju.16 They thus discard this interesting try at an apparently simple inner-Greek explanation of laXXeu, with no visible need for extra-Greek etymologizing (Latin saliö, etc.). Neither Frisk nor Chantraine suffer "überholte Etymologien" gladly, and Frisk merely refers back to Boisacq for all such refuse. Boisacq's dustbin does in fact contain a few historical curiosities, such as Per Persson's comparison of TAAATU ( * m - a l - u o ) with Germanic * saljan (Gothic saljan "offer," Old Norse selja, Old English sellan "sell"), causative of *sel- seen in Greek cAeîv "take," thus literally "make one take,"17 or Wilhelm Prellwitz's ¿CCAAQJ < *ioa\iw, comparing Sanskrit is- "throw." 18 But it also proscribes as "à écarter" a nugget which deserves to be tracked backward and forward in time and provides salutary object lessons for lexical research. Less than a decade after Kuhn's collocation of iâXXu» with 19 iyarmi, Theodor Aufrecht disputed the comparison, instead drawing 14 These are Bentley's restorations for oùii ^IŒAÎÎÇ and ipy of the manuscripts. Eustathius, in his lengthy discussion of uAÀto (1403.5-27), assumed the forms to be somehow initially foreshortened. " Herodian 1.539; see A. Lentz (ed.), Herodiani Technici reliquiae (Leipzig 1867-1870). 14 A tie-in which even beguiled Wilamowitz: "tâXXm, besser uxAAoi, vgl. tytoAnp, von « i f u " ; cf. U. von Wilamowitz-MoellendorfT, Euripides Herakles (Berlin 1895) 2.226 = (Darmstadt 1969) 3.225. 17 Beiträge zur künde der indogermanischen sprachen, hrsg. von A. Bezzenberger und W. Prellwitz, 19 (1893) 279; cf. e.g., Pokorny (supra n. 8) 899, for the Standard comparison of saljan, ¿Acîv, and Old Church sülati "send"; also Frisk (supra n. 2) 1.488. 18 W. Prellwitz, Etymologisches Wörterbuch der griechischen Sprache1 (Göttingen 1905) 191. I» ^«t(cAr{/2/iir vergleichende Sprachforschung 14 (1865) 273-275.

The Provenance Of Greek

laXXat

227

attention to the striking similarity between the Homeric expression Xeipas laXXeiv and the Vedic bähdvä sisarti "stretch (spread) out the arms" (RV 2.38.2 prd bähdväpfthüpänih sisarti "the wide-handed [god Savitar] spreads out his arms"; 7.62.5 prd bähdvä sisftam jivdse nah "spread out your arms [Mitra-Varuna] that we may live"). The standard Vedic meaning of jar- being taken to be "run, flow," ( b ä h d v ä ) sisarti tended to be accepted by some as a semantic offshoot thereof, in conjunction with laXXoi (*m-al-uo).20 Albert Debrunner 21 connected ¿¿Mat with both sisarti and Old Church Slavic sülati "send," pointing out further that the Greek reduplication has been extended beyond the present stem, and that a participle directly related to the nonthematic Vedic stem sisar- may lurk in the Homeric proper name 'IaXftevos 22 (Iliad 2.512, 9.82). But most importantly, he added that "ai. sar' fliessen' ist fernzuhalten." He thus implicitly postulated two different Vedic roots sar-, one with Indo-European *l seen here, and the other an apparent IE *ser- "flow" (Latin serum, etc.; cf. Pokorny [supra n. 8] 909-910). Such multiplication of entities never sits well with rootsynthesizers, and Debrunner's solution was no exception. Jakob Wackernagel 23 had in passing compared Ved. sar- "laufen" with Latin 24 saliö "springen," and Paul Thieme latched on to this hunch to force a new uniform solution. Crossing the semantic bridge joining " j u m p " and " r u n " (English leap cognate with German laufen, Swedish springa and löpa both " r u n , " versus German springen "jump," etc.), Thieme declared running to be but a series of leaps. He thus postulated a relationship of Vedic prd sisarti ("vorwärts springen lassen" > "vorstrecken") to the intransitive aorist dsarat "rushed, ran," analogous to that of Homeric taAAcu to the aorist SXTO (cf. especially Iliad 8.300, 309 oiorov . . . uxAAev with 4.125 5Aro S'oioros " the arrow leaped [from the bowstring]"), all reflecting Indo-European *sal- "leap." The most important consequence of this assumption for Indie was the denial of any meaning " to flow" in sar-; although liquids are involved in many 20 E.g., F. de Saussure, Mimoire sur le systime primitif des vqyelles dans Us langues inio-europitnnes (Leipzig 1879) 15; G. Meyer, Griechische Grammatik* (Leipzig 1886) 14. 21 Indogermanische Forschungen 21 (1907) 89. 22 Cf. 'EfaaÄTTii, discussed above, which may lurk in Mycenaean e-pi-ja-ta (PT An 115.2); cf. F. Bader, Minos 12 (1971 [1972]) 169. " Altindische Grammatik (Göttingen 1896) 1.211. 2 « ^«ücAnyi der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaß 111 (1961) 109-117 = Kleine Schriften (Wiesbaden 1971) 185-193.

228

J a a n Puhvel

instances, Thieme made them "rush < l e a p " instead. For Greek, Thieme reached by the comparative route the same conclusion as had occurred to Risch and Leumann on inner-Greek terms, viz. that ictAAcu is in origin but the factitival pendant of SXXofuau. In his zeal to discern a lingering semantic nuance of "leaping," Thieme analyzed various attested usages of sar- and taAAoj (e.g., Odyssey 15.475 ovpov taXXev "liess einen Fahrtwind aufspringen"), without notable success or conviction. At this point a thorough sifting of all Rig-Vedic attestations of sar-, and a summary one of later usage, was clearly needed. In supplying it, Johanna Narten 2 5 reached some significant philological conclusions. The active present sisarti, used as we saw of stretching forth arms, occurs only once in the sense " m a k e r u n " (RV 3.32.5 ap6 . . . sisarsi "you let the waters r u n " ) . T h e present middle (e.g., 3 pi. sisrate) and the perfect (3 sg. act. sasdra, 3 pi. act. sasrur, 3 sg. midd. sasri) display meanings of both "rush, r u n " and "stretch out, extend oneself." O n the contrary, the active aorist (3 sg. dsarat) translates only as "rushed along," whereas the intensive (3 sg. midd. prasarsrl) and the causative sardyati show the exclusive sense "stretch out." Narten can find no plausible trace of any " l e a p i n g " in either usage and concludes that from a synchronic, descriptive standpoint the material points to two homophonous but distinct verbs of different origins. Yet in a weak coda to this impressive conclusion Narten nevertheless tries to rescue Thieme's uniform etymology. She assumes that if IE *sal- had the base-meaning "sich schnellen," it developed to " l e a p " in pre-Greek and " r u n , rush" in pre-Vedic. The transitive stem "schnellen" survives in Greek laXXw, applicable among other usages to limbs. In pre-Vedic, however, the transitive stem was somehow restricted to the movement of limbs as "stretch out," and a new reflexive paradigm was back-formed as its intransitive pendant. Thus the phrase prd bahava sisarti is apparently singled out by Narten as the locus or fulcrum of the Vedic semantic bifurcation of the root sar-. After all this, how do the striking collocations xeipay laXXeiv: bahava sisarti and OLOTOV . . . tocAAcv: SXTO OLOTOS stand up as worthy etyma of laXXw ? I have a feeling that Thieme's (and Narten's) uniform explanation involves a bad case of semantic straitjacketing and overinterpretation. More likely than not two Indo-European roots 25

"Ai. sr in synchronischer und diachronischer Sicht," zur Sprachwissenschaft 26 (1969) 77-103.

Munchener Studien

The Provenance Of Greek ¿dAAw

229

have partially coalesced in Vedic sar-, one seen perhaps in Vedic sdrma- "rush, flow" (RV 1.80.5): Greek ¿pfirj "impetus," the other possibly in Old Church Slavic sulati "send, dispatch" (literally "extend"). Greek laXXoi need have no genetic truck with the latter. Nor is its independent tie-in with ¿HXXofuti particularly convincing. The Homeric image of the arrow "leaping" from the bowstring is a living, poetic one, conceived in the full context of the verb aXXopai in general and the aorist 5ATO (with its many other, more literal uses) in particular. laXXto, on the other hand, possesses no such synchronic meaning in the same Homeric linguistic ambience: it simply means "let go, let fly." The collocation TAXXEV \SXTO is therefore a spuriously seductive one that unfairly leaps across historical and stylistic layers of language. The temptation would therefore be strong to remain agnostic about the etymon of laXXto. Such is in fact the stance of Robert Beekes 26 who reconstructs laXXco as *H2i-H2l-id, " if not connected with ¿XXofiai [ref. to Leumann], and thus from *si-s[-id." Just before, Beekes reconstructs Vedic 3 sg. act. iyarti: 3 sg. midd. irte as *Hii-Hier-: H^iHtf-, thereby precluding a relationship to laXXu. As a way out of this etymological dead end, I propose a new explanation of laXXco with the help of comparative material from Hittite. As work proceeds on the Hittite Etymological Dictionary, the importance of newly discovered Graeco-Hittite isoglosses becomes increasingly apparent. In addition to myself,27 others 28 have lately been conscious of such accordances and their as yet unrecognized potential for elucidating the respective lexica. Lately verified collocations, to be thoroughly motivated elsewhere and in the dictionary itself, include e.g., Greek oatfxi "clearly," oia "insight, wisdom," and Hittite sakui- " e y e , " sakuni- " f o u n t a i n , " L u w i a n tawi- " e y e " ( I E *dhyaghw-);29 Greek 8 and halai- are closely reconcilable in terms of comparative grammar and usage patterns alike. If this combination is admitted, perhaps a solution emerges for a hoary etymological riddle.

University of California Los Angeles

M DU Sprache 17 (1971) 43-44. 31 Keilschrifturkunden aus BoghazkSi (KUB) I X 1 II 32. 32 Keihchrifttexte aus Boghazkäi (KBo) VI 26 IV 14. This is paragraph 198 of the Hittite Law Code in the standard (Hrozny) numbering. 33 Viz. the new-born baby on its father's (Appu's) knees; cf. J . Siegelovi, Appu-Märchen und Hedammu-Mythus (Studien zu den Bogazüiy-Texlen 14, Wiesbaden 1971) 10. 34 T h e baby (Ullikummi) on Kumarbi's knees ( K U B X X X I I I 93 III 1112); cf. H. G. Güterbock, Journal of Cuneiform Studies 5 (1951) 152. 35 KBo V 9 I I I 9; cf. J . Friedrich, Staatsverträge des Haiti-Reiches (Leipzig 1926) 1.20.

T H O M A S G. ROSENMEYER

Design and Execution in Aristotle, Poetics ch. xxv Chapter xxv of Aristotle's Poetics tabulates the various responses a well-disposed critic might make to a series of criticisms levelled against a piece of literature. The criticisms taken up are directed mainly against epic writing, though tragedy does come in for its share of attention also. The chapter contains some notorious cruxes. Unfortunately Gerald Else does not include it in his painstaking analysis of the Poetics but reserves it for a later discussion.1 Montmollin considers the chapter central, and derives his special thesis of strata of composition from what he judges to be the incongruities of its argument. 2 M. Carroll, almost three generations ago, attempted to throw light on the chapter by examining its connection with the Porphyrian Zrj-njfjutTa 'OprjptKa, themselves ultimately derived from Aristotle's more extended treatment in his I7pof}\rf(iaTa 'Ofiripixâ.3 Both Carroll and Montmollin, and many scholars before them, are intrigued above all by the end of the chapter, and by the problem which Thomas Twining, some six generations ago, formulated as follows: 4 "How the different Avoeis or solutions 1 Gerald F. Else, Aristotle's Poetics: The Argument (Harvard 1957) 632. Professor Else tells me, regrettably, that he has no present plans for publishing his findings. 2 Daniel de Montmollin, La Poétique d'Aristotle (Neuchatel 1951) fold-out opposite p. 166 summarizes his division into what he considers original and what he considers addition. The passages with which this paper will be concerned are, on his view, additions to the first version of the text. 3 Mitchell Carroll, Aristotle's Poetics, C. XXV, In the Light of the Homeric Scholia (Baltimore 1895). Cf. now also H. Hintenlang, Untersuchungen zu Jen Homer-Aporien des Aristoteles (Heidelberg 1961). 4 Thomas Twining, tr. comm., Aristotle's Treatise on Poetry, 2nd ed. (London 1812) II p. 417.

232

Thomas G. Rosenmeyer

proposed throughout the chapter are reducible to 12, and which are the 12 that Aristode meant, are questions, which the defective state of the original renders it very difficult, if not impossible, to answer, with any certainty. And indeed the matter is of so little importance, that it is by no means worth while to enter into any examination of the various modes of reckoning, by which different expositors have endeavored to solve the problem. Victorias, indeed, is so wise, as to give up the attempt." My admiration for Twining's shrewdness and relaxed good sense has made it easy for me to follow his advice, though I should add that Twining proceeds, with delightful inconsequence, to supply his own attempted solution, no more successful, I fear, than those of his successors.5 In the face of so much scholarly disagreement, I hope I shall be forgiven for the rash enterprise of venturing into the chapter once again. Fortunately I am less concerned with ironing out the notorious imbalances than with clarifying the status of some of the terms Aristotle uses in the chapter. I have in mind particularly the terms ¿Svyara and ¿Swafiia, aXayov, rt^irq, apapria, and irpoaipeois. I

Let me begin with the text of 60b 17. Aristode has just said that in poetry, we find two types of distortion, ¿fiaprla. One, which has to do with its own canons, he defines further as follows: «' fitv yap irpoelXero fii/jrfoaodai aSwa/xiav (A: aSwafila B) avrrjs TJ ¿/xapri'a: if it is the poet's (or poetry's) purpose to imitate an impossibility, the distortion is a function of the Ttyyt}. From the time of Victorius on, critics have boggled at the idea of rendering a&vvafilav as " impossibility." 6 Because of the difficulty, the text was soon thought to be corrupt. But of the 5 For the schemes of other scholars, including Gottfried Hermann, Susemihl, Teichmueller, Vahlen, Ritter, Bywater, Gudeman, Sykutris, and Rostagni, see the comparative tabulations of Montmollin (supra n. 2) 306fT. Of these, only Can oil's scheme seems to me to be flexible enough, permitting any one Avoir to be an answer to a variety of iVirt/iij/iara. Montmollin 309 fails to give due credit to this quality of Carroll's proposal. * Pietro Vettori, ed. tr. comm., Commentarii in primum libellum Aristoteiis De arte Poetarum, 2nd ed. (Florence 1573; the 1st ed., of 1560, was not available to me) 268 translates: j i f u i n n awn elegit imitari rem, cuius facultatem non habet, ipsius peccatum est; and comments: longique aliud esse arbitror aSumitlar ab eo, quod aSuvarov Graeci vocatur. He does not, however, question the text, which he prints as it appeared in the congener of the Parisinus used in the Aldine. L. Castelvetro, ed. tr. comm., Poetica d'Aristotele (Vienna 1570) 602 translates: "oltie le forze" and thus communicates Victorius' understanding to a larger public.

Design and Execution in Aristotle

233 7

various emendations on record, none found general acceptance. In 1861 Johannes Vahlen penned a note on the passage; he recognized that a&wafiUa> was "schwerlich richtig," but proposed to leave it untouched. 8 But by 1867, in the first issue of his edition of the Poetics, Vahlen had proposed a supplement: el [iev yap irpoctXcro fiifi^aaadou .]AK[.] A1: The traces of letters at several points are exceedingly hard to interpret. Kirchner read upsilon in the seventh letter-space, but no part of the original surface is here preserved, and since he dotted the tau in this space in the line beneath I doubt there has been additional damage to the stone; perhaps he misplaced the bottom part of an upright stroke in the sixth space. If the two upright strokes in the ninth space form a nu or an eta, it was far out of alignment. The clear bottom stroke in the thirteenth space is more likely epsilon than xi.

A Fragment of Records of Delian Amphiktyons

299

A2: Only the bottom part of the upright stroke of the tau of t^trciae is preserved. Coupry read nPOSENO, but I believe he was misled by marks which are part of later damage to the stone. A3: Damage to the stone makes it impossible to read more than a section of the upright stroke of the tau of omiajrj. A4: Although Kirchner read delta in the first space, I see no trace of a letter here either on the fragment itself or a squeeze; unless it was very far out of alignment there is certainly enough original surface preserved to allow some of the letter to appear, so that one may assume a careless omission. Only the lower part of the final iota is preserved. A5: The final epsilon is certain. Before it is almost certainly iota: the curving mark around the top is not part of a letter. In the space before, damage to the stone makes it impossible to read more than an upright stroke at the left of the space: the context makes eta the most likely possibility. A6: Only the left upper hasta is preserved, so perhaps the last letter could also be chi. A7: For the dotted omega Kirchner read omicron, Coupry omega. The stone is too damaged for certainty. A8: The omega of /utrflajfr]^ is clearer on the squeeze than on the photograph; it is of the type seen in the preceding line, with a long hasta at the right, but almost nothing at the left. In the final space the upright is clear; perhaps part of the middle stroke of the eta is also preserved, although this mark, also visible on the squeeze, may not be part of a letter. Cf. the eta in the third line above for the downward slant to the middle stroke. A9: For AKAIOZ, see Commentary, p. 304 below. The last letter could also be beta. A13: Lapis: EH, i.e., the final stroke of the pi was omitted. Kirchner read the final letter as mu. A14: The dotted delta could also be a lambda. The last two letters are especially out of alignment.

300

L. L. Threatte B1 : Perhaps KOU stood at the end of the line. B2: Damage to the stone makes it uncertain whether a second upright stroke stood in the final letterspace. B6: Damage to the stone makes it uncertain whether the second letter was iota or some other, e.g., eta, since only the bottom part of an upright hasta is preserved and iota may stand at the left of the stoichos (cf. the iota in B2). For the remainder of this line see Commentary, p. 306 infra. B8: The dotted lambda could perhaps also be a delta.

The lettering is stoichedon on both surfaces with iota and the interpunct occupying a stoichos. However, the vertical alignment of the letters on A is at times somewhat irregular. The checker-units measure: on A, ca. 0.010m. horizontally, ca. 0.009 m. vertically; on B, 0.009 m. horizontally and vertically. The execution of A was somewhat careless (e.g., lines 4, 9) ; it is interesting to note also that the hastae of delta or lambda occasionally continue beyond their point of juncture at the top to produce seriflike extensions, cf. the third delta of the price in line 10, the lambda in line 11. I believe B was carved by a different hand than A : marked differences can be seen in the form of delta, upsilon. As Kirchner saw, the fragment comes from a record of the Delian amphiktyons such as those published in IG I I 2 1633-1650. These documents record objects of value belonging to the various temples, as well as other financial matters such as the payment and making of loans, payment of rent on sacred estates leased to private individuals, etc. The study of Delos in the amphiktyonic period promised by J . Coupry has yet to appear, although he has published a lecture he delivered on this topic, viz. "Inscriptions de Délos: Actes administratifs du temps de l'amphiktyonie Attico-Délienne (Ve-IVe s.)" in Atti del terzo congresso internazionale di epigrafía greca e latina (Rome 1959) 55-69. For the later period there is the article of J . Tréheux, "Les dernières années de Délos sous le protectorat des amphiktions" in Mélanges Charles Picard pp. 1008-1032 ( = RevArch série 6, 31-32 [1948]) (hereafter: Tréheux).

A Fragment of Records of Delian Amphiktyons

301

Despite the small amount of preserved text, it is clear that B is an inventory of valuable objects, and that it is very like the inventories in IG 112 I638.52ff, IG I P 1639, IG I I 2 1640.16ff, and BCH 10 (1886) 461-475, lines 125ff (hereafter: BCH 10), themselves quite similar and dating to the period 364—354 B.C. These lists all contain poteria, a thymiaterion strepton, exauster(s), and obeliskoi, and in the same order as B here. The three inventories IG II 2 1638-1639 and BCH 10 differ from each other only in minor details, but in IG I I 2 1640 the obeliskoi follow the exauster after a much greater amount of text than they do in the other three lists, and it is thus impossible to restore completely the text of IG I I 2 1640.27ff. In the fragment published here, the thymiaterion, the exauster, and the obeliskoi (virtually certain in B5, for although other objects ending in -OKOI occur in some of the amphiktyonic documents, only obeliskoi appear in the lists containing the thymiaterion strepton and the exauster) all come at the ends of lines, and thus approximately equal amounts of text may be assumed to have separated them. This arrangement is more at variance with IG II 2 1638-1639 and BCH 10 than with IG I I 2 1640, but it is identical to neither type. It is therefore impossible to restore these lines on B using as a basis the text of IG II 2 1638-1640 and BCH 10, especially as so litde text is left and there is no precise indication of the length of the line. It is likely, however, that the original monument from which our fragment domes had quite long lines: the thickness of the fragment (13 cm.) allows assumption of a wide monument, and the number of letters between the thymiaterion and the exauster in IG II 2 1638-1640 and BCH 10 is considerably more than a hundred. And yet with a horizontal checker-unit on B of 0.009 m. a line of just a hundred letters produces a width for the stone of nearly a meter, and this is about the maximum the thickness would allow. The inventory of which part is preserved on B clearly differed in detail from those on IG II 2 1638-1640 and BCH 10, but the appearance of four objects common to them shows that it is of the same type as they. It is certain that the text of A dealt in part with the sacred estates on the island of Rheneia and probably their lessees: this comes from the mention in line 8 of the estate called Rhamnoi, followed by fuadvi is to be restored, cf. IG I I 1641.11 and IG XI (2) no. 143.B3 (based on ibid. no. 144.10). The Leimon ( = grassy place) follows the Hippodrome in IG XI (2) nos. 158, 161, and 199. For EIII[ probably 'Eirtodcveia is the best guess, as Coupry saw (BCH 62 [1938] 245). This property was confiscated in 375 B.C. from Episthenes or his son Patrokles (cf. IG II 2 1635.138, 145, 147), and it was definitely one of the sacred estates in the early third century (cf. Kent p. 257, notes 36, 38). But in a list from earlier in the independent period there is evidence that the property was not a sacred temenos, for although omitted in the list of temple estates 2

A Fragment of Records of Delian Amphiktyons

305

IG X I (2) no. 135. Iff it appears in line 23 of the same text in a different context, which seems to prove at that time it was in private hands. If the Epistheneia is a temple estate here (and perhaps in IG I I 2 1638.19, where Coupry also suggested it, p. 242), it is surprising it is not one after 314 B.C. Tr^heux suggested that the property was returned to Episthenes' descendants after Delos became independent (cf. Tviheux, 1016 n. 2, with summary of arguments and bibliography on the problem). A13.—After ra the most likely possibilities are (or ohtrjftaTa) and evoixia, but the last two lines are too fragmentary to permit more than guessing as to what was in the text here. If the letters AION[ are the beginning of one of the numerous and frequent names such as Dionysios, Dionysodoros, etc., then there might be a date here, i.e., " t h e (rents?) in the magistracy of Dion-"; as none of the Attic archons of this period have names beginning in Dion-, it would have to be a Delian official. But we may have here a reference to the Dionysion mentioned in later lists of sacred temene, where however it is always referred to as tj (yr\ r/) ev Aiowolim, e.g., IG X I (2) no. 135.12 (314-302 B . C . ) ; 161.8 (279 B.C.), or just as the Aiovvaiov, e.g., IG X I (2) no. 144.13 (before 301 B . C . ) ; 149.7 (297 B.C.). As the Dionysion was on Rheneia, one is faced with the choice of assuming that the two groups of temene are not kept separate in this text (as they are in the Attic list IG I I 2 1638 and usually are in the Delian documents) or that the text has completed its treatment of the Delian temene by line 13 and has now passed on to rents from the sacred oikiai. The latter arrangement can be seen in IG X I (2) no. 161, lines 16ff (the Chareteia was on Rheneia), and Kirchner was probably right to suggest it for IG I I 2 1638 (cf. line 23). This second reconstruction, which may also explain the unusual preposition eVt, is preferable to that of the mixing of the lists. B2.—Although proslepteria, thermanteria, perirhanteria, etc. occur in these lists, the most likely restorations are irorripia or ipvierfpia, because these objects occur in the inventories most like this one, cf. IG I I 2 1640.20, 22; BCH 10.131, 133. As the poteria come nearer to the thymiaterion they are probably the correct choice. B3.—Kirchner restored [irepipav]Typtov, doubtless because the number of letters neatly filled out the line to the left margin, which he had incorrectly assumed was preserved. But the perirhanteria of

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L. L. Threatte

these inventories are described as having a hypostaton ( = stand), e.g., IG II 2 1640.26, IG II 2 1639.6, or simply as mega ( = large), e.g., IG II 2 1641.39. For the dvfjuarypiov arptirróv (= curved censer) cf. IG I I 2 1638.63, BCH 10.137; restored IG I I 2 1640.22. B4.—'Egavorrjp = a hook for removing meat from a pot. B5—The figure following the obeliskoi of BCH 10.142 and IG II 1639.9 (restored IG I I 2 1638.67) is smaller by ten than that given here. In IG I I 2 1640.30 either number would be possible. 2

B6.—The sequence of letters remains puzzling; I believe the omega and first tau are certain. Perhaps: ]ON TO ora(8póv) áY, or: ]a»t TO (genitive ?) crra(0/xw) J h It does not seem possible to read the last two letters in the line as theta and mu to produce aradfí(óv): the next to last letter is definitely not round, and marks to the right of the h seem to be damage to the stone, not parts of letters (this applies even to what on the photograph appears to be an upright stroke which could otherwise be part of the numeral). The mark I interpret as the horizontal hasta of the h is almost certainly an intended one, ruling out a reading such as