Friendship in Ancient Greek Thought and Literature: Essays in Honour of Chris Carey and Michael J. Edwards 9004546332, 9789004546332, 9789004548671

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Friendship in Ancient Greek Thought and Literature

Mnemosyne Supplements monographs on greek and latin language and literature

Executive Editor J.J.H. Klooster (University of Groningen)

Editorial Board K.M. Coleman (Harvard University) R. Gagné (University of Cambridge) C.C. de Jonge (Leiden University) C. Pieper (Leiden University) T. Reinhardt (Oxford University)

volume 474

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/mns

Friendship in Ancient Greek Thought and Literature Essays in Honour of Chris Carey and Michael J. Edwards

Edited by

Athanasios Efstathiou Jakub Filonik Christos Kremmydas Eleni Volonaki

leiden | boston

The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at https://catalog.loc.gov lc record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023021808

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill‑typeface. issn 0169-8958 isbn 978-90-04-54633-2 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-54867-1 (e-book) Copyright 2023 by Athanasios Efstathiou, Jakub Filonik, Christos Kremmydas and Eleni Volonaki. Published by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill nv incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Hotei, Brill Schöningh, Brill Fink, Brill mentis, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, Böhlau, V&R unipress and Wageningen Academic. Koninklijke Brill nv reserves the right to protect this publication against unauthorized use. Requests for re-use and/or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill nv via brill.com or copyright.com. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Preface ix List of Figures x Abbreviations xi Notes on Contributors

xii

Introduction: Exploring philia in Ancient Greek Thought and Literature 1 Christos Kremmydas

part 1 The Poetics of Friendship 1

Three Friendships 31 Michael J. Edwards

2

Philia and the Poetics of Tragedy Chris Carey

3

Absent Friends: Why Is Friendship Less Important in Tragedy Than in the Iliad? 56 G.O. Hutchinson

4

A Gift-Song to an Old Friend: Pindar, Thrasybulus, Nicomachus, and the Second Isthmian 75 Lucia Athanassaki

5

Charis and Charites in Callimachus: Friendship in a Hostile World Flora P. Manakidou

part 2 Dramatic Friendships 6

Philia in Euripidean Tragedy 115 Georgia Xanthaki-Karamanou

44

94

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contents

7

Antigone’s ‘Nearest and Dearest’: Metapoetry in Euripides’ Antigone and Phoenissae 126 Ioanna Karamanou

8

Who Needed Pylades? Marco Fantuzzi

138

part 3 Friendship and the Historian 9

Friendship in Herodotus Christopher Pelling

155

10

Can You Trust Xerxes to Be Your Friend? Friendship and Autocracy in Herodotus 177 Kleanthis Mantzouranis

11

Friendship in the Relations between the Cities in Thucydides Vasileios L. Konstantinopoulos

12

Friends in Arms under the Public Gaze Hara Thliveri

13

Friendship on Stone: Inscribed Narratives of the Rescue and Ransom of Exiles and Captives 235 Adele Scafuro

196

212

part 4 Friends and Enemies in Court 14

Civic Friendships and Filial Duties: Representations of Political Bonds in Classical Athens 267 Jakub Filonik

15

Friendship Betrayed: Isocrates 16 and the Athenian Reconciliation of 403/402bce 282 Lene Rubinstein

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16

Blood Is (Usually) Thicker Than Water: Kinship and Friendship in Ancient Greek Inheritance Disputes 306 Brenda Griffith-Williams

17

The Flexibility of the Rhetoric of Friendship in Athenian Courts Eleni Volonaki

18

Shifting Political Friendships in Athens in the Age of Demosthenes and Philip ii 358 Athanasios Efstathiou

330

part 5 Post-classical Friendships 19

The Code ‘Help Friends—Harm Enemies’ and the Socratic Tradition 377 Maria Noussia-Fantuzzi

20

Friendship in Pausanias K.W. Arafat

21

Philia in Libanius’ Letters Manfred Kraus

397

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part 6 The Afterlife of Ancient philia 22

A Friend in Need Is a Friend Indeed: Tom Paulin’s Rescuing of Antigone’s Afterlife 429 Dimitris Kentrotis Zinelis

23

A Modern Neo-Platonic Friendship David Konstan General Index 463 Index of Names 467

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Preface This volume has its origins in the conference Φιλία στην Αρχαία Λογοτεχνία και Πρόσληψη—‘Friendship in Greek Literature and Reception’ that took place in Kalamata, Greece, from the 27th to the 28th of April 2017 to honour Professor Chris Carey and Professor Michael J. Edwards and award them honorary doctorates of the University of the Peloponnese in recognition of their contributions to classical scholarship. The conference drew an impressive cast of distinguished speakers from the U.K., the U.S.A., Germany, Italy, Poland, the Netherlands, and Greece, most of whom have kindly contributed to this volume, too. It is appropriate that both the conference and the Festschrift resulting from it should revolve around the theme of friendship (philia). The two honorands exemplify brilliant, ground-breaking scholarship combined with true humanity and generosity. They also represent a shining example of lasting philia in the often harsh world of academic scholarship. Over the past four decades, Chris Carey and Michael J. Edwards have opened new scholarly paths and achieved internationally recognized academic excellence and have also nurtured early career scholars and forged extensive networks of scholarship and philia that span Europe, the Americas, and the Far East. Most of the contributors to this volume have cherished their own bonds of philia with the honorands and wish to maintain their relationship through ‘giftgiving’, that is, by contributing a chapter to the present volume as a small token of philia. In an unusual gesture, the honorands, too, have generously contributed chapters of their own. The four co-editors wish to express their gratitude to all contributors for their patience and excellent co-operation through the lengthy gestation period of this volume. Some delays were inevitably caused by the pandemic. We are very grateful to Brill’s Editorial Board for embracing this volume, to the anonymous reviewers for their constructive comments and suggestions and to our editor, Giulia Moriconi, for her advice and support at different stages of this project. We also wish to thank the copy-editor, Millie Gall, for her contribution to the completion of this project. We have been very privileged to have worked closely with the honorands at different stages of our academic careers and have benefited enormously from their wisdom, scholarship, generosity, and friendship. We are pleased to be able to offer this collective labour of philia to Chris and Mike as a small token of appreciation, gratitude, and affection. Athanasios Efstathiou, Jakub Filonik, Christos Kremmydas, and Eleni Volonaki January 2023

Figures 1 2 3

Harmodius and Aristogeiton (Tyrannicides). Three quarter back view of the statues. Naples, National Archaeological Museum, inv. 6009, 6010 215 West pediment of the Temple of Zeus at Olympia. Detail: Apollo standing in the middle, Perithous on the left and Theseus on the right 228 Attic red-figure volute-krater, New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art. Accession Number: 07.286.84. Attributed to the Painter of the Woolly Satyrs. Detail: Centauromachy 229

Abbreviations Abbreviations of Greek and Latin authors and titles in this volume follow primarily the Oxford Classical Dictionary, 4th edn. Abbreviations of classical journals follow L’Année Philologique.

General abbreviations commonly used throughout this volume: 0000x

edition number (e.g., 20223 = published in 2022, edition 3), cf. ‘edn.’ below ad loc. ad locum (‘to the place’, used to refer to a passage/line mentioned) ca. circa (around, approximately) cf. confer (compare) ed. / eds. editor/s edn. edition et al. et alii/ae (and others) e.g. exempli gratia (for example) esp. especially fig. figure fr. (frr.) / frg. / F fragment(s) ibid. ibidem (in the same place / work) i.e. id est (that is) l. / ll. line/s n. / nn. note/s no. / nos. number/s repr. reprinted sc. scilicet (that is to say, clearly) schol. (ad) / Σ scholion (to) sg. singular Suppl. Supplement s.v. sub verbo (‘under the word’, under the heading) trans. translation, translated by v. / vv. verse/s viz. videlicet (namely, in other words) vol. / vols. volume/s vs versus (against, in opposition to)

Notes on Contributors K.W. Arafat Emeritus Reader in Classical Archaeology, King’s College London Lucia Athanassaki Professor of Classics, Department of Philology, University of Crete Chris Carey Professor Emeritus of Greek, Department of Greek and Latin, University College London Michael J. Edwards Professor of Classics, Honorary Senior Research Fellow, Department of Classics, Royal Holloway University of London Athanasios Efstathiou Professor of Ancient Greek Language and Literature, Department of History, Ionian University Marco Fantuzzi Professor of Classics, School of Humanities and Social Sciences, Research Centre for History and Classics, University of Roehampton Jakub Filonik Associate Professor, Department of Literary Studies, University of Silesia in Katowice Brenda Griffith-Williams Honorary Research Associate, Department of Greek and Latin, University College London G.O. Hutchinson Regius Professor of Greek, University of Oxford Ioanna Karamanou Professor of Classics, Department of Philology, Aristotelian University of Thessaloniki

notes on contributors

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Dimitris Kentrotis-Zinelis PhD candidate at Leiden University Centre for Arts in Society David Konstan Professor of Classics, Department of Classics, New York University Vasileios L. Konstantinopoulos Emeritus Professor, Department of Philology, University of the Peloponnese Manfred Kraus Adjunct Professor Emeritus, Philologisches Seminar, University of Tübingen Christos Kremmydas Reader in Greek History, Classics Department, Royal Holloway, University of London Flora P. Manakidou Professor of Ancient Greek Literature, Department of Greek Philology, Democritus University of Thrace Kleanthis Mantzouranis Research Fellow ERC Project Honour in Classical Greece, School of History, Classics and Archaeology, University of Edinburgh Maria Noussia-Fantuzzi Assistant Professor, Department of Classics, University of Thessaloniki Christopher Pelling Regius Professor of Greek Emeritus, University of Oxford Lene Rubinstein Professor of Ancient History, Classics Department, Royal Holloway, University of London Adele C. Scafuro Professor of Classics, Classics Department, Brown University Hara Thliveri Special Lab and Teaching Staff, Department of History, Archaeology, and Cultural Resources Management, University of the Peloponnese

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notes on contributors

Eleni Volonaki Assistant Professor, Department of Philology, University of the Peloponnese Georgia Xanthaki-Karamanou Professor Emerita, Department of Philology, University of the Peloponnese, President of the Society of Greek Philologists

introduction

Exploring Philia in Ancient Greek Thought and Literature Christos Kremmydas

1

The Challenging Task of Defining Philia

Philia, a term that is usually translated into English as ‘friendship’, is a multivalent and complex concept that is attested frequently in ancient Greek thought and literature, an important social phenomenon and an institution that features in classical Greek social, cultural, and intellectual history.1 It represents a nexus of relationships, reciprocal obligations, and expectations of mutual support between individuals. The notion of ‘friendship’ is not peculiar to the Greek world; various manifestations of the notion and social phenomena akin to friendship are encountered across many cultures ancient and modern,2 whilst some of its expressions appear to be culturally specific and peculiar to a single historical period. The conceptual range of philia varies considerably from culture to culture and indeed from one historical period to another. However, in an ancient Greek context the term philia was understood much more broadly than the modern term ‘friendship’. The Greek term philos was semantically more expansive than its modern English translation ‘friend’ and could also be used to refer to kin and fellow citizens.3 At the same time, the verb philein, from which both philos and philia derive, is used to denote affective relationships, such as the ones between parents and children4 and others, about which we

1 According to Millett (1991) 111, philia was conceived of as a semi-formal institution. 2 For a cross-cultural, anthropological approach see the collection of case-studies from societies across parts of the world, modern as well as premodern, in the East, Africa and the West in Bell and Coleman (2020). 3 In the Iliad, philos (φίλος) is often used as an adjective denoting ‘beloved, dear’ (LSJ i, a; ‘pleasant’ when describing objects: LJS 2) and ‘loving, friendly’ and in the neuter (φίλον), it also characterizes an object of love (LSJ i c), and ‘one’s own’ (LSJ 2 c). See also Adkins (1963) who finds affinities between Aristotle’s analysis of philia in the Eth. Nic. and the Odyssey. On the ‘problem of language’, see Konstan (1997) 8–11. On the inadequacy of translations, see Goldhill (1986) 79, Blundell (1989) 39, Millett (1991) 114. 4 See, e.g., discussion of such a relationship in Eth. Nic. 1161a.

© Christos Kremmydas, 2023 | doi:10.1163/9789004548671_002

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would not use the language of friendship in contemporary usage.5 For instance, the use of the term philia alongside the term symmachia in Greek inscriptions to describe the formal diplomatic bonds between cities might come across as striking when seen from a modern, Western perspective,6 although even in early modern European history the language of friendship was deployed in international treaties,7 and it was not unusual in the eastern bloc during the years of the Cold War.8 The translation of philia as ‘friendship’ does not render the full spectrum of affects and relationships denoted by the Greek term. This problem has already been commented on by scholars and is also being flagged up by various contributors to this volume.9 One of the world’s leading researchers of ancient friendship and a contributor to this volume, David Konstan, has termed this problem the ‘hermeneutic barrier between distinct languages and social systems’; he thus adds the variability of social and cultural context as a further complicating factor to what appears to be a linguistic problem of translating

5 An example is Odyssey 1.123 where Telemachus greets the disguised goddess Athena as follows: χαῖρε, ξεῖνε, παρ᾽ ἄμμι φιλήσεαι (‘Hail, stranger! You will be given a proper welcome among us’). 6 This type of philia is particularly well-attested in the epigraphic record, especially in honorific decrees for proxenoi. I highlight here two fourth-century examples: IG ii2 149 = IG ii3 1 398 = SEG 46: 124 (date: 350–320bce), a proxeny decree recording honours for two Euboean proxenoi of Athens, Ampheritos and Herakleodoros; the key clause in the preamble of the decree stresses the preservation of philia and symmachia between the demos of the Athenians and the Euboians. Another fourth-century inscription (RO no. 12 = SIG3 135 = Tod 111, ll. 18–23) prohibits the establishment of a relationship of philia with other neighbouring ethnē and poleis, unless it is done jointly by the two parties to the alliance between Amyntas of Macedon and the Chalcidians. For a more detailed discussion of philia and symmachia in Greek interstate relations, see Mitchell (1997) 36–54. 7 Digeser (2009) 323 n. 2 cites the treaty of Westphalia (1648) among several examples of diplomatic agreements that deploy the language of friendship between peoples; paragraph i of this document concludes as follows: ‘… each Party shall endeavour to procure the Benefit, Honour and Advantage of the other; that thus on all sides they may see this Peace and Friendship in the Roman Empire, and the Kingdom of France flourish, by entertaining a good and faithful Neighbourhood’. (https://avalon.law.yale.edu/17th_century/westphal​ .asp) 8 During the Cold War, the Warsaw Pact was formally known as the ‘Treaty of Friendship, Cooperation and Mutual Assistance’; see https://treaties.un.org/doc/Publication/UNTS/Volu me%20219/volume‑219‑I‑2962‑Other.pdf. Jakub Filonik informs me that during the same period major avenues in Polish cities were named Avenues of Polish-Soviet Friendship (sg. ‘aleja Przyjaźni Polsko-Radzieckiej’), later euphemistically rephrased to Avenues of Friendship (sg. ‘aleja Przyjaźni’). 9 See chapters by Griffith-Williams, Arafat, Kraus.

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cognate terms that have a wide semantic field (even within archaic and classical Greek usage).10 Even in Aristotle’s own time there were disagreements regarding its precise character (διαμφισβητεῖται δὲ περὶ αὐτῆς οὐκ ὀλίγα).11 And although he is in no doubt about the universality and necessity of philia, he shows a certain unease in his attempt at a definition of the term already from his introduction to Book viii (1155a):12 ἔστι γὰρ ἀρετή τις ἢ μετ᾽ ἀρετῆς, ἔτι δ᾽ ἀναγκαιότατον εἰς τὸν βίον. ἄνευ γὰρ φίλων οὐδεὶς ἕλοιτ᾽ ἄν ζῆν, ἔχων τὰ λοιπὰ ἀγαθὰ πάντα. For friendship is a kind of virtue or involves virtue and is an indispensable element of life. For no one would choose to live without friends even if they had all other material goods.13 While the notion of friendship has attracted a significant volume of modern scholarship across different disciplines, ranging from traditional scholarship on Greco-Roman literature through to intellectual and social history, philosophy, anthropology, and psychology, a satisfactory definition of the ancient term philia remains elusive.14 The intractable problem of translation and the difficulty of delineating the conceptual boundaries of the terms philia, philos, and the verb philein15 either in a twenty-first century or in an ancient Greek context,16 makes the task of providing a precise definition quite challenging.

10 11

12 13 14

15 16

Konstan (1997) 10. He also hints at varying definitions (and, therefore, contemporary philosophical debates) later on in Book ix 4, 1166a: ‘For some people define a friend as someone who wishes and does what is good, or what appears to be good, for the sake of his friend … Others define a friend as someone who spends time with another and chooses the same things as he does; or someone who shares in the sorrows and joys of his friend’. Cf. his comments at the end of Book viii 11, 1161b. Translations are mine unless otherwise noted. Caluori (2013) is a collection of chapters on philosophical aspects of friendship. A more recent contribution to scholarship in the area of philosophy is Nehamas (2016); in the area of anthropology see Bell and Coleman (2020); see also n. 2 above. I highlight here key scholarly contributions in the area of Classics: Adkins (1963), Dover (1974) 180–184, 276–278, 304–306, Goldhill (1986) 79–106, Herman (1987), Blundell (1989), Millett (1991) 109–126, Mitchell (1997), Konstan (1997, 1998) and more recently Stern-Gillett and Gurtler (2014) and D’Agostini, Anson and Pownall (2021). In the rest of this introduction, I shall be using the Greek terms philia, philein, and philos to avoid the terminological problems identified earlier. Arist. Eth. Nic. ix 2, 1165a proposes a rather wide application of the term that encompasses

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What is more, in the ancient Greek world cognate concepts such as hetaireia, (philo)xenia, philotēs,17 and oikeiotēs operated alongside, interfaced with and partially overlapped with philia, thus making the task of defining the concept even more challenging.18 Konstan attempts a brief definition of philia in his seminal book, Friendship in the Classical World, that might offer a helpful starting point for further discussion of the notion. It is, he argues, … a mutually intimate, loyal, and loving bond between two or a few persons that is understood not to derive primarily from membership in a group normally marked by native solidarity such as family, tribe, or other such ties ([1997] 1). According to Konstan, philia represents an affective state resulting from a close relationship between two or more people.19 He adopts anthropological terminology and proceeds to describe it as an ‘achieved relationship’,20 that is, a relationship that does not exist by virtue of natural, familial bonds. By contrast, an ‘ascribed relationship’ is one that is based on status and can be passed down from generation to generation (e.g., in family relationships).21 Konstan notes that although philia existed in contrast to ascribed relationships, it also took ‘its contours from it’.22

2

Different Kinds of Philia

The range of relationships that could be characterized as philiai was very broad and extended to the private and public spheres. In the Eudemian Ethics, Aris-

17

18 19 20 21

22

parents as well as fellow-citizens (ἐπεὶ δ᾽ ἕτερα γονεῦσι καὶ αδελφοῖς καὶ ἑτέροις καὶ εὐεργέταις, ἑκάστοις τὰ οἰκεῖα καὶ τὰ ἁρμόττοντα ἀπονεμητέον …). The term philotēs that is attested mainly in poetic texts and more rarely in prose should also mentioned here (e.g., And. 1.145: ἐμοὶ ξενίαι καὶ φιλότητες πρὸς πολλούς καὶ βασιλέας καὶ πόλεις καὶ ἄλλους ἰδίᾳ ξένους γεγένηνται, ὧν ἐμὲ σῴσαντες μεθέξετε). See pp. 4–6 below for a brief overview of different types of philia. The relational character of friendship is also stressed by Goldhill (1986) 82. I am deploying the term used by Konstan (1997) 1. Note that Aristotle identifies philia as a virtue: Eth. Nic. viii 1, 1155a. Forms of institutionalized friendship such as xenia and proxenia could also be passed on from generation to generation; see references to inscriptions in n. 6 above and Scafuro’s chapter in this volume; see also Mitchell (1997) 12–14, 28–37, Domingo Gygax (2016) 107– 114. Konstan (1997) 6.

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totle groups them into four categories, two of which seem to cover the private and two the public sphere: a) syngenikē (pertaining to kinship), b) hetairikē (pertaining to companions), c) koinōnikē (pertaining to an association or partnership), and d) politikē (pertaining to the polis, ‘civic friendship’).23 These categories are not watertight; they overlap and, as Konstan puts it, philia takes its contours from ascribed relationships, whilst also being contrasted to them. A brief overview of key permutations of philia at this point will prove useful. Whilst not all kin are necessarily philoi, kinship (syngeneia) can provide the tightest circle of philia-relationships that creates the greatest obligations. The closest relationship was that between parents and children, but there were varying levels of affection and closeness among different members of the kinship group. The next circle of philiai involves hetairoi or epitēdeioi, terms that can be translated as ‘companions’ or ‘close friends’, ‘intimates’. Aristotle suggests that their equality in rank and age makes them akin to brothers.24 Hetaireia, an association of hetairoi (with origins in drinking clubs), could take on political features in the context of a state.25 The relationship engendered by the extending of hospitality to a foreign guest, xenia, was another manifestation of philia that reflected many of the latter’s features and overlapped with the notion of syngeneia (‘kinship’). The affective aspect of philia is echoed in some references to xenia. For instance, Pylades is addressed by Orestes as follows: Πυλάδη, σὲ γὰρ δὴ πρῶτον ἀνθρώπων ἐγὼ πιστὸν νομίζω καὶ φίλον ξένον τ᾽ ἐμοί (Eur. Electr. 82–83).26 For I consider you, Pylades, my foremost loyal and dear guest-friend. A prose text from a different institutional context illustrates the ways in which xenia, philia, and syngeneia could overlap with each other,27 and sheds precious 23 24 25

26 27

Arist. Eth. Eud. vii, 1242a: λέγονται δὲ φιλίαι συγγενικὴ ἑταιρικὴ κοινωνικὴ ἡ λεγομένη πολιτική. Eth. Eud. vii, 1242a: ἣ δὲ τῶν ἀδελφῶν πρὸς ἀλλήλους ἑταιρικὴ μάλιστα ἡ κατ᾽ ἰσότητα. Further on hetairoi see Konstan (1997) 31–33 and Mitchell (1997) 11–12. On the role of hetaireiai in Athens see Ath. Pol. 20.1, 34.3; for their role more generally in causing stasis during the Peloponnesian War see Thuc. 3.82. See also brief discussions in Connor (1971) 25–29, Mitchell (1997) 43–45 and Jones (1999) 223–227. See also Fantuzzi in this volume pp. 144–146. On the overlaps between these notions see Herman (1987) 16–31.

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light on the potential evolution of a relationship from guest-friendship to kinship (through adoption), and on the role of affection between the individuals at the different stages of this intra-generational process. The speaker in Isocrates’ Aegineticus (19) 5–10 shows the way in which an affective relationship grew over time from xenia to strong philia (note the choice of ἀγαπῶ to denote the strength of their relationship at 8: oὕτω δὲ σφόδρ᾽ ἠγάπησε τὴν τοῦ πατρὸς φιλίαν ‘he had such affection for my father’s friendship …’), and this affective relationship was passed down to the next generation who helped it grow further (10: μείζω τῆς ὑπαρχούσης αὐτὴν ἐποιήσαμεν ‘we made our friendship stronger than theirs’). He qualifies this statement by explaining what this meant during childhood and adulthood.28 As well as stressing the affective element of xeniarelationships, this passage also reflects another common feature between xenia and kinship, namely the expectation that these relationships would last across different generations. However, some of the private philia relationships mentioned above could also offer a model for interstate relationships. The notion of kinship was often deployed in diplomacy to bring states together in alliances or even to justify acts of aggression. According to Thucydides, after the end of the Persian Wars, the recently liberated Ionians approached the Athenians and asked them to take the leadership of the Greeks on account of their Ionian kinship (1.95.1: κατὰ τὸ ξυγγενές).29 Xenia-relationships between individuals offered the basis for the development of a public, institutional relationship between an individual citizen and a foreign state: the local citizen was recognized and honoured as the local representative of another state in his own state. The institution of proxenia was central to the conduct of interstate politics in the Greek world already from the archaic period, but especially in the classical period.30

28

29

30

10: περὶ πλείονος ἡμᾶς αὐτοὺς ἡγούμεθα ἢ τοὺς ἀδελφούς ‘we thought more of each other than of our own brothers’ … οὐδὲν πώποτ᾽ ἐναντίον ἡμῖν αὐτοῖς ἐπράξαμεν, ἀλλὰ καὶ τῶν ἰδίων ἐκοινωνοῦμεν καὶ πρὸς τὰ τῆς πόλεως ὁμοίως διεκείμεθα καὶ φίλοις καὶ ξένοις τοῖς αὐτοῖς ἐχρώμεθα ‘we never did anything against one another, but we shared our private affairs and had the same attitude regarding matters of the polis and had the same friends and guestfriends’. Note the use of the term oikeiotēs in some inscriptions: e.g., IG ii2 456 (the Athenians honour the Colophonians: oikeiotēs and philia are both attested), IG ii2 653 (renewal of ancestral honours for Spartocus). On fifth-century Athenian proxenies, see Walbank (1978); Mack (2015) is more comprehensive in its analysis.

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7

Philia: Reciprocity and Affection

‘If friends make gifts, gifts make friends’:31 this adage encapsulates the reciprocal relationship at the heart of philia32 and the importance of gift-giving or the exchange of immaterial benefactions that operated as ‘glue’ cementing these relationships. There was even an expectation that this relationship would be perpetuated. However, an interpretation of philia as essentially a personal relationship between partners to a transaction that extended over time has led some scholars, especially those working on archaic Greece, to posit that philia operated as a ‘matrix’ for social relations in pre-modern systems regulated by custom rather than law.33 Gabriel Herman’s important work on the institution of xenia (which he renders as ‘ritualized friendship’)34 explores the way in which the dominance of personal bonds and alliances evident in the archaic period transitioned into the world of the polis without being totally eradicated by its institutional structures. He argues that in the classical period the personal links and alliances continued to unite citizens within the framework of the polis, but also citizens across different poleis. Nevertheless, the polis ideology that prioritized commitment to the local community could on occasion appear to be at odds with the commitments necessitated by a relationship with an outsider, a xenos.35 Although such an interpretation of philia does hold some value for the period in question and may reflect aspects of certain personal relationships, it seems to prioritize the formal whilst marginalizing the affective elements of the relationship between individuals.36 Already in the Homeric epics there are clear expressions of the emotional bonds between two friends. Besides the famous relationship between Achilles and Patroclus in the Iliad,37 there 31 32

33 34

35 36 37

This saying from Marcel Mauss’ work The Gift is quoted by Konstan (1997) 4. Aristotle deploys the term antiphilēsis to denote the reciprocal affection between two parties (viii 3, 1156a: καθ᾽ ἕκαστον γάρ ἐστιν ἀντιφίλησις οὐ λανθάνουσα). The most recent scholarly contribution on the importance of reciprocity in philia is van Berkel (2019) esp. 3–5, 9–14; see also the important collection by Gill, Postlethwaite, and Seaford (1998). Konstan (1997) 4 with references to the well-known works of Moses Finley, The World of Odysseus and The Ancient Economy. The new Cambridge Greek Lexicon defines this more formalized type of philia-relationship as follows: ‘ξενία 2. tie of guest-friendship (between men from different families or communities, involving sacred responsibilities as though to one’s own kin; also between an individual and another state or between two states); guest-friendship’. Herman (1987) 7–8. Konstan’s analysis has helped to bring out the affective aspects of philia-relationships beyond the strict ties of obligation binding individuals: (1997) 5, passim. See chapters by Edwards and Hutchinson in this volume.

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are further instances suggesting that the affective element of philia was not exceptional. The story of Meleager related by Phoenix in Book 9 of the Iliad sheds light on the concentric circles of the hero’s closest relations who sought to change his mind and turn him away from his wrath (9.581–589), once the representatives of the Aetolian had failed to persuade him by offering him a precious gift (9.574–580): his father, his sisters, his mother, his trusted and beloved friends (586: οἵ οἱ κεδνότατοι καὶ φίλτατοι ἦσαν ἁπάντων). The emotional dimension of the appeal and its reflection on the relationship is highlighted by the reference to Meleager’s thymos (‘soul, spirit’) as the target of their attempts at persuasion. Meanwhile, in Odyssey Book 4, Menelaus does not only extend guest-friendship to Telemachus and Peisistratus (note ll. 26–27: ξείνω δή τινε τώδε … ἄνδρε δύω), but also demonstrates his affection for these two young men (the adjective φίλος is used along with the noun τέκνα: l. 78; cf. expression used for Telemachus: φίλου ἀνέρος υἱὸς). Mitchell also points to the combination of a utilitarian with an affective element in philia and talks about the blending of ‘elements of instrumentality and affection in different measures’.38 Meanwhile, the affective element can also be found in Aristotle’s treatment of philia. He seems to suggest in the Ethica Nicomachea that philia itself is a pathos (1105b21–23) and this is confirmed by his briefer discussion of philia in the Rhetoric (1381a–b)39 that also stresses the reciprocity, the sharing of pleasures and negative experiences, and notes the extension of circles of philia to the friends of one’s friends and the enemies of their enemies. The grounds of philein presented in the Ethica Nicomachea (utility, pleasure and virtue; see pp. 11–12 below) are presented in the Rhetoric in a different way with an emphasis on a wide range of different individual interactions between friends and enemies (echthroi)40 and plenty of insights into human psychology. For example, Aristotle suggests that people are inclined to be friendly towards individuals who are not mindful of wrongs done to them (1381b: τοὺς μὴ μνησικακοῦντας), nor tend to bear a grudge (μηδὲ φυλακτικοὺς τῶν ἐγκλημάτων) but are easily appeased (εὐκαταλλάκτους). Unsurprisingly, he 38 39 40

Mitchell (1997) 21. Rapp (2013). The polarity friend-enemy (philos-echthros) is important for the ancient Greek conceptualization of philia. See brief discussion in Dover (1974) 180–183. In an important study Blundell (1989) explores the function of philia in Sophoclean drama and stresses its centrality in Greek society by pointing out that the ‘vast majority of those one came into contact with could be classified as either friends or enemies’ (39). See also chapters by Griffith-Williams and Noussia-Fantuzzi in this volume. However, as Belfiore (1998) has shown, drama records instances when philoi ended up harming philoi, thus violating bonds of different kinds of philia.

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notes that people tend to be friendly towards those who are not deceptive towards them (τοὺς μὴ πλαττομένους πρὸς αὐτούς), but, on the contrary, even tell them what they do wrong (τὰ φαῦλα).

4

Philia within a Nexus of Mutual Obligations and Expectations

So far, this introduction has touched on relational and affective aspects of philia. However, philia-relationships were also associated with ‘a series of complex obligations, duties, and claims’:41 philia placed individuals under an obligation and expectation to help one another. Thucydides’ famous quote about the acquisition of philoi in Pericles’ Funeral Oration illustrates this nexus of obligations and expectations in philiai very aptly and demonstrates the interplay between the key notions of χάρις (‘gratitude’), εὔνοια (‘goodwill’) and ὀφείλημα (‘debt’). At the same time, Thucydides cannot conceal the competitive urge felt to take the initiative in terms of doing good and thus establishing and maintaining philia-relationships. 2.40.4: οὐ γὰρ πάσχοντες εὖ, ἀλλὰ δρῶντες κτώμεθα τοὺς φίλους. βεβαιότερος δὲ ὁ δράσας τὴν χάριν ὥστε ὀφειλομένην δι᾽ εὐνοίας ᾧ δέδωκε σῴζειν· ὁ δὲ ἀντοφείλων ἀμβλύτερος, εἰδὼς οὐκ ἐς χάριν, ἀλλ᾽ ἐς ὀφείλημα τὴν ἀρετὴν ἀποδώσων. We make friends by doing good to others, not by receiving good from them. This makes our friendship all the more reliable, since we want to keep alive the gratitude of those who are in our debt by showing continued goodwill to them; conversely, the one who owes us something does not feel the same enthusiasm, since he knows that, when he repays our kindness, it will be more like paying back a debt than giving something spontaneously. (trans. R. Warner; adapted) The reciprocal and transactional nature of this personal relationship between two individuals has been seen as one of the key features of philia as a social phenomenon. However, even before Aristotle’s classification in his typology of philia of a kind of relationship between two individuals existing for the sake of utility (chrēsimon; see p. 11 below), a calculating facet in the process of giving and returning of favours might be identified already in Homer and Hesiod. The

41

Goldhill (1986) 82.

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evidence for archaic communities and classical poleis suggests that there is continuity in terms of the offering of mutual support through reciprocal exchange between individuals.42

5

Aristotle on Philia in the Ethica Nicomachea

Although Aristotle should not be treated as the Alpha and the Omega of any study of Greek political theory, rhetorical theory, ethics, emotions, a few key contributions from his extensive study of philia especially in Books 8 and 9 of the Ethica Nicomachea are still worth highlighting here. Although his analysis is by no means the only extensive engagement with the notion of philia in Greek literature, it is certainly the most comprehensive one. His treatment of the notion successfully connects personal ethics with his polis-centric discussion that one encounters in the Politics. Aristotle’s analysis of philia in the Ethica Nicomachea sets it clearly in the context of the polis43 and associates it with two other civic virtues: eunoia44 and homonoia.45 The former is acknowledged to be one of the cardinal civic virtues46 and is closely linked with, is a key trait of and could be described as a prerequisite for philia; it is even described as the ‘first principle’ or ‘beginning’ of philia (viii 5, 1167a: ἀρχὴ φιλίας). Eunoia can only develop into philia only as long as it is reciprocated. As for homonoia (usually translated as ‘concord’), it is also a trait of philia. Early on in his analysis, Aristotle states that homonoia is similar to philia and may prevail between individuals unknown to each other such as the citizens of a polis, as long as they all seek the same goal, namely what is beneficial for their community.47 For Aristotle, homonoia has a very practical and applied sense (περὶ τὰ πρακτὰ …) that can only be found in the context of the polis: viii 6, 1167a 25: …τὰς πόλεις ὁμονοεῖν φασίν, ὅταν περὶ τῶν συμφερόντων ὁμογνωμονῶσι καὶ ταὐτὰ προαιρῶνται καὶ πράττωσι τὰ κοινῇ δόξαντα. 42 43

44 45 46 47

Millett (1991) 121. Cf. 1161b. Blundell (1989) 43–44 stresses that most ties of philia exist in the polis and notes that exile was seen as a particularly painful experience due to the exiled person’s lack of friends. See viii 5, 1166b. See viii 6, 1167a. On homonoia in the fourth century see also Funke (1980). Whitehead (1993). viii 1, 1155α: ἡ γὰρ ὁμόνοια ὅμοιόν τι τῇ φιλίᾳ ἔοικεν εἶναι, cf. viii 6, 1167α l. 20: φιλικὸν δὲ καὶ ἡ ὁμόνοια φαίνεται. διόπερ οὐκ ἔστιν ὁμοδοξία.

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The states are in a state of concord, when the citizens agree as to their common interests and are united in their decision-making and execute their decisions. A little later (1167b) he explains that individual ambitions to rule lead to stasis. He notes that homonoia does not mean that every citizen will necessarily hold the same view about everything, but rather that they agree on the same general principles of running the state, no matter what their political allegiance. Such an important principle is meritocracy, namely the idea that the state ought to be administered by the best (τοὺς ἀρίστους ἄρχειν). He also complements this utilitarian definition of philia with an ethical perspective; he argues that homonoia exists between good individuals (ἐπιεικεῖς), but is possible only to a limited extent between those who are bad (φαῦλοι). The moral quality of the latter is reflected in practical ways, too: they are unwilling to pull their weight for the common good when it comes to the performance of public services, such as liturgies (ἐν δὲ τοῖς πόνοις καὶ ταῖς λειτουργίαις ἐλλείποντας). The close relationship between philia, eunoia, and homonoia envisaged by Aristotle could be represented schematically as a triangle with philia at its apex to denote its important role and eunoia and homonoia taking their places at the two corners on the bottom side of the triangle. Besides this polis-centric analysis of philia and its cognate civic virtues eunoia and homonoia, Aristotle identifies three species (eidē) of philia that are to be distinguished on the basis of the criteria of utility, pleasure, and virtue derived by an individual (1166a): a) philein (‘to show philia’) for the sake of some good an individual wishes to obtain from someone else;48 I call this utilitarian or self-serving philia.49 b) philein for the sake of pleasure (ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ οἱ δι᾽ ἡδονήν); I call this hedonistic philia. c) philein because of the other person’s virtue; this type of philia can only be realized between two virtuous individuals (Eth. Nic. viii 3, 1156b). This could be called virtuous (or virtue-oriented) philia. This latter type is the rarest and best species of philia and the only one that is likely to last. By contrast, the other two species of philia are incidental and, therefore,

48

49

This is the species of philia that Aristotle has in mind when he defines philos as ἔστιν ὁ τοιοῦτος φίλος ὅστις ἃ οἴεται ἀγαθὰ ἐκείνῳ, πρακτικός ἐστιν αὐτῶν δι᾽ἐκεῖνον in Rh. 1361b (‘a friend is one who is seeking to provide another with the things that he thinks would benefit him.’). Note that Socrates is also talking in terms of utility at the start of a section on philoi (Xen. Mem. 2.4.1: ἔμοιγε ἐδόκει μάλιστ᾽ ἄν τις ὠφελεῖσθαι πρὸς φίλων κτῆσίν τε καὶ χρεῖαν).

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transient. In a loose translation, ‘this is philia proper, the one between virtuous individuals’ (viii 3, 1157b: μάλιστα μὲν οὖν ἐστὶ φιλία ἡ τῶν ἀγαθῶν). Aristotle makes one further useful distinction between philia and another cognate noun, philēsis (better translated as ‘affection’). He argues that, while affection is a passion or feeling (pathei), philia is a ‘state’ (hexei; ἔοικε δ᾽ ἡ μὲν φίλησις πάθει, ἡ δὲ φιλία ἕξει: viii 3, 1157b) and states that the latter (viii 5, 1158a) is equal or presupposes equality (εἰσὶ δ᾽ οὖν αἱ εἰρημέναι φιλίαι ἐν ἰσότητι) because the individuals in this state give and receive both in equal measure.50 But at the same time as talking about equality in philia relationships, Aristotle proceeds to examine relationships that are hierarchical, unequal, and involve a superior and an inferior party (e.g., the relationship between parents and their children, and those between rulers and those ruled). These unequal philiai differ also in terms of their respective virtue(s), the tasks at hand and their objectives.51 Aristotle avers that most people love to be honoured and to be loved as they are ‘lovers of flattery’. And although this insight into folk psychology is not immediately associated with the ruler-ruled relationship, this connection becomes more apparent a little later in the passage. This philia relationship involves the flatterer pretending to be your inferior and to love the other party more than they love him. This is therefore a simulation of real love, a fake philia that seeks to deceive and manipulate another person. That these flatterers are manipulative politicians, demagogues, who take advantage of the masses’ desire to be flattered for their own political gain is not stated explicitly, but this is clearly an inference that might be drawn from the following passage: viii 8, 1159a–b: χαίρουσι γὰρ οἱ μὲν πολλοὶ ὑπὸ τῶν ἐν ταῖς ἐξουσίαις τιμώμενοι διὰ τὴν ἐλπίδα (οἴονται γὰρ τεύξεσθαι παρ᾽ αὐτῶν, ἄν του δέονται ὡς δὴ σημείῳ τῆς εὐπαθείας χαίρουσι τῇ τιμῇ …). Most people like being honoured by those in power because they hope to receive something from them (they believe that they will receive what they need from them and enjoy being honoured by them as a sign of future benefits).

50

51

Cf. statement at 1159b that ‘affection consists in equality and similarity’. Cf also 1162b on equality in friendship. At the start of Book 9 he states that ‘it is proportion that produces equality and preserves the friendship’ (1163b). Alongside the relationship between rulers (ἄρχοντες) and ruled (ἄρχόμενοι), Aristotle lists the relationships between fathers and sons (πατρὶ πρὸς υἱὸν), older and younger individuals (πρεσβυτέρῳ πρὸς νεώτερον), and husbands and wives (ἀνδρὶ τε πρὸς γυναῖκα).

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Once they manage to meet the people’s need ‘to be loved’ through flattery, they can perpetuate their relationship by continuing to flatter them and, in return, solidifying their own political power (ἐξουσία) in the city. Aristotle appears to be offering a clinical ethical-political reading of the phenomenon of demagoguery and populism, which was prevalent in classical Greek poleis even before his time and has become topical again in the second and third decade of the twenty-first century. In his socio-political analysis of philia in Book 8, Aristotle draws a comparison between different types of constitutions (kingship, aristocracy, and the best timocratic polity or politeia, as it is called by most people), including corrupt forms of these (tyranny, oligarchy, and democracy) and different types of philia within the family. Once again, this suggests the primacy of the oikos within the polis. Kingship, he proposes, is meant to be like the ‘community’ (koinōnia) between father and son, whilst the ‘community’ between man and wife is aristocratic, as it is based on the merit of the former and the control of areas where a man ‘ought to rule’; finally, community made up of brothers is timocratic as it is based on equality except if there is significant age differential. Aristotle refers to democracy as a house without a master (viii 10, 1167a.5–6: δημοκρατία δὲ μάλιστα μὲν ἐν ταῖς ἀδεσπότοις τῶν οἰκήσεων) and compares it to constitutions in which the ruler is weak and every member has power. His discussion of philia in the family and the comparisons to relationships within the different political constitutions helps reiterate his key point that philia can only exist within a community (koinōnia); the different kinds of philia (i.a. syngeneia, phylē, xenia) are all active within the community (1161b). Aristotle’s detailed analysis sheds helpful light on the malleability of philia and the diversity of ancient Greek experiences and perceptions of this notion. Philia is deployed to bring closer together thinking about politics and family relationships. It might thus be useful to think of those who are bound by bonds of philia as inhabiting a circle of individuals in the community that overlaps with and cuts through two circles comprising citizens (politai) and kin (syngeneia). These three categories are not watertight: friends can also be kin and fellow politai, while kin can be politai but not necessarily philoi. In Book 9 Aristotle considers different scenarios in philia-relationships where things go wrong and addresses different questions relating to the ethics of interpersonal relationships (not just in relationships of philia). Towards the end of his examination of philia Aristotle touches on the philosophical question whether a truly happy (eudaimōn) man really needs friends and comments on the essence of friendship, especially at times of need. After all, people who are blessed (makarioi) and autarkic52 do not really need anything, whereas 52

Autarkeia (‘self-sufficiency’) is another concept that plays a central role in the Politics: e.g.,

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the person who is in need and has a friend, uses the friend as ‘another self’ to provide for them (ix 4, 1169b: τὸν δὲ φίλον, ἕτερον αὐτὸν ὄντα). Aristotle concludes that a virtuous friend should be chosen by nature on the part of a good person since what is good by nature is both good and pleasant and therefore meets the requirements of the ideal form of friendship in a community.

6

Philia beyond Aristotle: Two Examples

There is no doubt that Aristotle’s examination of philia is systematic and has proven influential over the centuries. Nevertheless, even his lengthy treatment does not cover all possible manifestations of philia in ancient Greek societies. For instance, a notable absence from the Ethica Nicomachea is the notion of self-sacrifice for the sake of friends. The question of the limits to which philia could be stretched in order to save the life of a philos is explored in the well-known story of Damon and Phintias/Phidias, which probably has an early fourth-century Syracusan origin and is quoted by Diodorus of Sicily.53 Diodorus leaves his readers in no doubt that the limits of philia was a topic discussed widely in philosophical circles, and refers specifically to Pythagoras and his circle. The story of Phintias and Damon is the third story that exemplifies the Pythagorean spirit and is introduced as an example of how the Pythagoreans were prepared to take risks alongside their acquaintances-friends even on the most dangerous occasions.54 Once caught by Dionysius, the Syracusan tyrant, for having plotted against his life, Phintias proposed to find a guarantor for himself so that he could arrange his own affairs before being executed. Damon, a Pythagorean philosopher himself and a gnо̄ rimos of Phintias, accepted the latter’s invitation to act as a guarantor and ultimately pay the price should Phintias fail to return on time for his execution.55 Phintias did not return to take his place until the very last moment when Damon was being taken away to face

53 54 55

i 1, 1253a: ἡ δ᾽ αὐτάρκεια καὶ τέλος καὶ βέλτιστον. Cf. Eth. Eud. vii 12, 1244b: σκεπτέον δὲ καὶ περὶ αὐταρκείας καὶ φιλίας, πῶς ἔχουσι πρὸς τὰς ἀλλήλων δυνάμεις. ἀπορήσειε γὰρ ἄν τις πότερον, εἴ τις εἴη κατὰ πάντα αὐτάρκης, ἔσται τούτῳ φίλος. εἰ κατ᾽ ἔνδειαν ζητεῖται φίλος καὶ ἔσται ἀγαθὸς αὐταρκέστατος, εἰ ὁ μετ᾽ ἀρετῆς εὐδαίμων, τί ἂν δέοι φίλου … Diod. Sic. 10.4.3–5. It is also to be found in Cicero (Off. 3.45, Tusc. 5.22) and in Iamblichus (VP 233). Diodorus identifies both Damon and Phintias as Pythagoreans. Cleinias of Tarentum and Prorus of Cyrene, Pythagoras himself and Damon and Phintias. gnо̄ rimos denotes an acquaintance (see LSJ, s.v. 3), therefore someone who is less than a philos. Note that, despite the lack of terminological exactitude, this act is recognized as ‘a great love for one’s friends’ (Diod. Sic. 10.4.5).

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the executioner. This act of sacrificial philia impressed everyone and especially the Syracusan tyrant, who freed the accused but also pleaded with Phintias and Damon that he be accepted as the third member of their philia-relationship. In all three examples adduced to illustrate the way in which the Pythagoreans treated their ‘friends’ (the terms used include οἱ συνήθεις, οἱ γνώριμοι, but also οἱ φίλοι),56 one notices the blending of different philia-relationships with ties of kinship and acquaintances in a way that echoes Aristotle’s analysis in the Ethica Nicomachea. In the midst of the story of Phintias and Damon, the narrator interjects the following comments that inject a moralizing element, but also engender suspense by pausing the narrative and relating two contrasting reactions to Damon’s sacrificial offer on the part of his contemporaries: Diod. Sic. 10.4.5: τινὲς μὲν οὖν ἐπῄνουν τὴν ὑπερβολὴν τῆς πρὸς τοὺς φίλους εὐνοίας, τινὲς δὲ τοῦ ἐγγύου προπέτειαν καὶ μανίαν κατεγίνωσκον. Now there were some who praised the extravagance of the love for one’s friends, whereas others disapproved of the rashness and folly of the guarantor. The story of Damon and Phintias also raises a further important question, namely the extent to which such notions of sacrificial philia might have been perceived by first-century bce audiences as operating across different cultures. More specifically, did the Roman conceptualization of amicitia affect or even mould the understanding of philia in a Greek philosophical context from the late Hellenistic period onwards?57 As Konstan notes rightly, ‘[s]ocial concepts do not exist in a vacuum. Friendship in any society is bounded by a set of alternative relationships that mark off its specific dimensions and properties’.58 The different ways in which cultural and institutional differences might have affected the negotiation of relationships of philia in different cultures are explored in the chapters by Pelling and Mantzouranis, who examine the representation of philiai between Greeks and the Persian King.59 56

57 58 59

Note a general comment (the terminology about relationships is probably not always consistent or technically accurate; I highlight such terms in the following quote): (10.3.5): ὅτι ἐπειδάν τινες τῶν συνήθων ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας ἐκπέσοιεν, διῃροῦντο τὰ χρήματα αὐτῶν ὡς πρὸς ἀδελφοὺς. οὐ μόνον δὲ πρὸς τοὺς καθ᾽ ἡμέραν συμβιοῦντας τῶν γνωρίμων τοιαύτην εἶχον τὴν διάθεσιν, ἀλλὰ καθόλου πρὸς πάντας τοὺς τῶν πραγμάτων τούτων μετασχόντας. The term γνώριμος (τοῖς γνωρίμοις) is repeated at 10.4.2. See i.a. Konstan (1997) 122–148. Konstan (1997) 6. See chapters 9 and 10 in this volume.

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Another example of the way in which different political and institutional contexts could affect the articulation of philia in hierarchical relationships can be found in the institution of hetairoi in Macedonia.60 The very title of this institution denotes a close relationship that is not exactly personal philia, but rather a local, institutionalized and politicized form of friendship that is, nonetheless, not wholly devoid of affective content. An anecdote in Plutarch’s Life of Alexander (15.2–3) highlights not only Alexander’s generosity towards his soldiers (a running theme in Plutarch’s Life), but also the affective relationship that he shared with his Macedonian hetairoi and was based on reciprocity involving gift-giving.61 Alexander is said to have been so prodigal in his gift-giving just before the start of the expedition that Perdiccas asked what was going to be left for the king. Alexander responded ‘my hopes’ and thus prompted the commander to give up any gifts he had received from the king. Gift-giving was a well-established means of guaranteeing loyalty to kings and Philip ii’s prodigal gift-giving as a political ‘weapon’ both within Macedonia and in interstate relations was notorious. This passage from Plutarch suggests that generosity to friends was being displayed against all expectations, despite this being a time of financial difficulty for the Macedonian state due to a high level of debt (15.1–2: two hundred talents according to Onesicritus). Although the institutional context of Macedonian monarchy was different from that of other Greek states at the same time, Philip and Alexander operated in a Greek cultural and intellectual context; this passage clearly illustrates Alexander’s philia towards hetairoi and this is how this anecdote would have been received not only by contemporary audiences but also by Plutarch’s readers in the Roman Empire. However, this affective relationship did not remain unaffected by Alexander’s introduction to the cultural context of the Achaemenid court and its practices after 330 bce.62 The cross-cultural understanding of philia and the crosspollination of classical Greek ideas of the term with neo-Platonic concepts of friendship, the Roman notion of amicitia and Christian concept of charity would have played a more or less important role depending on the cultural and sociopolitical context especially under the Roman Empire. Although this volume cannot possibly 60

61 62

See also p. 5 above; on Macedonian heteroi, see further Hatzopoulos (1996) 334–336. He maintains that this was an institutional relationship based on a reciprocal relationship, whereby the King forms a partnership with his companions and gives evidence for reciprocal exchanges of significant monetary value. Konstan (1997) 30 also discusses hetairoi in the archaic period. Cf. Plut. Alex. 19.6 (note that both philoi and hetairoi are attested in close proximity), 29.8, 31.2, 10, 45.3, 60.16. E.g., Arr. Anab. 7.29.3, Diod. Sic. 17.77.4–78.1, Plut. Alex. 45, 47 (note in particular the way he manipulated his friendship with Hephaestion and Craterus), Curt. 6.6.1–12 (esp. 7).

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engage with these issues fully, a number of chapters in this volume problematize such issues as they analyze ‘local’ case-studies that involve various receptions of philia (see chapters by Kraus, Kentrotis Zinelis, Konstan).

7

Representations and Receptions of Philia: an Overview of the Volume

The importance of philia to Greek thought, culture and society emerges quite clearly from this collected volume that sheds light on manifestations of philia in different sources, literary, epigraphic, and visual. However, philia is far from a static concept, as this introduction has already shown. The complexities, subtle nuances, multi-faceted portrayals, and the tensions of philia-relationships are the subject of debate and negotiation, form the backdrop of literary and philosophical works and even inspire different artistic expressions, as the contributions to this volume also make clear. The volume as whole does not aspire to offer a comprehensive coverage of all the different sides of the multifaceted phenomenon of philia in the classical world; rather, it focuses on Greek thought and literature and offers snapshots of the function of philia in specific social and political contexts, in literary works and across different genres and thus covers a wide chronological span from the archaic period through the classical and the Hellenistic period, down to its contextualization in the modern period. The collection in a single volume of different representations of and diverse perspectives into the conceptualization and contextualization of philia offers a good overview of the contours of this important social phenomenon and at the same time helps the reader get a glimpse of its depth and richness. As Carey notes aptly in his own contribution to the volume, philia ‘becomes a microcosm which helps us to understand the world’. It is hoped that this volume, too, will contribute to a better understanding of the ‘world’ of philia. The twenty-three chapters are grouped in six thematic sections, four of which explore themes in different genres, broader concepts or contexts (e.g., interstate relationships or artistic representations that echo contemporary politics) and two explore snapshots of the reception of classical notions of philia in different historical periods (Roman Empire, seventeenth-century England and Ireland in the 1980’s). It is fitting that the tone for the volume as whole is set by one of our two honorands, Mike Edwards. His contribution explores three contexts of philia in its ‘ups’, as well as its ‘downs’: philia within the family, between the husband and his wife, and with those beyond the family. His examples are taken from Homer, tragedy and oratory and thus echo the generic diversity of the contributions in

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this volume and introduce famous pairs of philoi some of whom (e.g., Orestes and Pylades) make an appearance in subsequent chapters. What is more, all his case-studies anticipate themes that emerge from other contributions to the volume: the complexity and overlaps in the operation of kinship and friendship, but also the heights and depths of ‘the good, the bad, and the ugly’ relationships celebrated or deplored in different literary genres and sociocultural contexts. The first thematic unit (‘The poetics of friendship’) of the volume focuses on the various ways in which philia was represented in and through poetic genres (Homeric epic, tragedy, and Pindar’s victory odes). But the pervasiveness of the notion of philia in Greek culture can be seen even through its refractions that can be identified in theoretical works such as Aristotle’s Poetics. In the first chapter of this volume that also opens up the thematic section on ‘The poetics of friendship’, Carey examines Aristotle’s two ideal models of tragedy, the first of which involves a radical change in the fortune of a hero who suffers because of an error, while the second revolves around the changing dynamics in a relationship between individuals resulting from the anagnōrisis occurring between two heroes. As has been already pointed out, philia could encompass blood relationships but also extended beyond them (see pp. 5–6 above). However, Carey examines the way in which in the Poetics Aristotle focuses on suffering and relationships changing because of wrongs perpetrated between/against close relatives, the syngenikē philia. The fracturing of the close bonds between two syngeneis appears to have a potentially bigger emotional effect on the audience as it evokes pity for the wronged party. The emotional effect of the damage that occurs in such close philia relationships between syngeneis is confirmed by the evidence of the orators (esp. inheritance speeches) who also present breaches to the closest affective bonds in terms that evoke pity for the victim. However, Aristotle’s focus on these very close philia-relationships in tragedy appears to relate to the way in which he understands the polis itself and its constituent parts as he presents them in the Politics. Since the oikos and its relationships constitute a fundamental building block of the polis at large, it is likely that the representation of problematic relationships at the level of the oikos might enable the audience(s) of tragedy to reflect upon wider problems affecting the polis as a whole. And in that sense, as Carey notes quite pithily, ‘philia becomes a microcosm which helps us to understand the world’. Whilst Carey views philia as microcosm that contributes to the understanding of the world, in the next chapter of this thematic unit Hutchinson views it as a ‘literary enigma’. Even though their approaches might, at first sight, appear to be contradictory, in reality they offer complementary insights into different facets of the literary representations of philia in different genres. Whereas

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Carey examined the role of syngenikē philia in Aristotle’s Poetics, Hutchinson does not adopt this Aristotelian notion to describe such close familial relationships featuring prominently in tragedies. Instead, he prefers to focus on ‘sustained but non-amorous affection between persons who are not close kin’ (p. 56). He maintains that despite the prominence of male-to-male friendship in some tragedies, those relationships play a far more prominent role in the very plot of the Iliad (meanwhile in the Odyssey relationships within the oikos play a larger role than friendships). Philia is so deeply ingrained into the very fabric of the poem that the poem engenders what he calls ‘a network of feeling’ within the Greek and Trojan armies themselves. But it is close friendships between male fellow-warriors that are being brought deliberately under the spotlight by the epic poet in a way that is largely unfamiliar to the world of the tragedians (with few exceptions, such as Sophocles’Philoctetes). And in that sense, tragedy seems to be detached from the world of the polis and thus enigmatic. However, the Aristotelian perspective that sees philia run through all the ‘associations’ within the polis, all the way down to the level of the relationships between the members of the oikos, helps inform our understanding of philia between the members of the community. Seen from such a perspective, friendship in tragedy would thus appear to be less enigmatic. The multifaceted and complex character of philia is also illustrated in the next contribution, which moves to the world of lyric poetry and Pindar’s victory Odes. Athanassaki examines Pindar’s relationship with Thrasybulus, the son of a famous Pythian victor, Xenocrates, and Nicomachus, the charioteer of the Emmenids of Acragas. She offers a close reading of Isthmian 2 and a persuasive reconstruction of the relationships between these three individuals and demonstrates how close relationships of philiai could be forged even in the face of or despite the appearance of a patron-client relationship and could last decades. And whilst the seeds of philia had probably been sown in a sympotic context (probably in the context of the Pythian games of 470), it was further cemented through the reperformance of Isthmian 2 at places as far apart as Athens and Acragas in Sicily. Athanassaki’s interpretation of this victory ode thus illustrates the complex and dynamic character of philia: a relationship between an athletic victor and a poet that might be characterized as mercenary started off as xenia, branched out to envelop three individuals, and developed into a lasting philia. It should also be borne in mind that the forging and the maintenance of the relationships between the three main personae in the ode are played out in the context of the polis, whilst also operating within a wider Panhellenic dimension. Manakidou’s chapter rounds off the thematic section by examining the place of Callimachus as a poet in the competitive world of poetry in a Hel-

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lenistic context. She highlights the way in which Callimachus confers a distinguished place on the divine Charites in his poetry, thus revealing himself as an intellectual heir to Pindar. But Callimachus did not only wish to emphasize the close link between his poetic achievements and literary models and predecessors, but also to locate himself within the political reality of the royal patronage. An examination of selected Hymns and other works shows that the ways in which the poet selects and represents his friends (personal and official) and enemies echoes the world of Pindar. The next section of the volume engages closely with the presentation and problematization of close relationships in tragedy (‘Dramatic friendships’). Whilst Xanthaki-Karamanou offers a bird’s eye view of the role played by philia in Euripidean drama, Ioanna Karamanou zooms in on the way in which tensions developing in the context of family relationships in Sophocles’ Antigone have been developed by Euripides in his two adaptations of the famous play. Finally, Fantuzzi examines closely one of the best-known philia-relationships in Greek drama, namely that between Orestes and Pylades. Xanthaki-Karamanou’s whistle-stop examination of philia in Euripidean drama seeks to map a range of Aristotelian categories of philia on to extant tragedies; this demonstrates its different contours and contexts within the oikos and the polis. Like Carey, Xanthaki-Karamanou, too, touches on the role of relationships of philia in the dramatic development of tragic plots and also points to fragmentary plays in which the murder of philoi is averted in the nick of time, thus maximizing suspense. Ioanna Karamanou’s contribution explores the ways in which key themes of Sophocles’ Antigone, such as the strong relationships between and obligations towards close kin, are reconfigured and readapted by Euripides in his Phoenissae and his own Antigone (the latter only surviving in fragments). Karamanou shows how in these two plays the younger Athenian dramatist offered ‘variations on the theme’ of Antigone’s liminal position and her respective obligations, on the one hand, to her paternal and, on the other, to her husband’s family. Whilst in the Phoenissae the tension between Antigone’s contrasting familial obligations is sharpened further as she rejects her future husband, in the Antigone the tension is being resolved as the heroine marries Haemon who had facilitated her performance of burial rites for her brother. Thus, a key theme revolving around close relationships among family members that was first sounded in Sophocles’ play is consciously developed and metapoetically engaged with by Euripides in his two tragedies. As has been shown already, philia is a flexible and dynamic notion and various philia-relationships portrayed in tragedies are explored and even developed in different plays. In the last chapter in this section, Fantuzzi tracks the

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development of Pylades’ character in the three tragedians, evaluates Euripides’ contribution to his characterization and monitors the portrayal of his philia with Orestes. From an almost mute character (kо̄ phon prosо̄ pon) in Aeschylus’ Choephori and Sophocles’ and Euripides’Electra, he grows into a prominent and ‘full-textured’ character and a decisive individual in Euripides’ Orestes and IT. But it is not only his character that develops through the plays, especially those by Euripides; his role also evolves from a xenos in Sophocles’Electra (and in Pindar’s Pyth. 11) to a xenos and philos in both Sophocles’ and Euripides’Electra, the ideal philos (albeit only because he is aiding Orestes to achieve his objective; Fantuzzi calls his role ‘paredric’) and eventually Orestes’ trusted close philos, while at the same time musing on the concept of philia and thus echoing contemporary debates on the notion of friendship. Fifth-century tragedians did not have a monopoly in terms of problematizing the role of philia and articulating its different manifestations in their plays, on occasion even developing themes and characters revolving around this fundamentally human and ‘political’ concept. Prose authors would have been exposed to a similar intellectual milieu and took the opportunity to touch on aspects of philia. Two of the contributions of the next thematic section (‘Friendship and the historian’) explore the extent to which it features in Herodotus’ Histories, while three chapters explore the ways in which philia-relationships affected interstate relationships, influenced internal developments in Greek poleis and were echoed in official state ideology. Although it might have been expected that Herodotus would have paralleled other contemporary literary genres in engaging with the concept of philia, he surprises us with the mixed treatment he offers. He touches less on personal, everyday relationships of philia in his treatment of Greeks as well as Persians. By contrast, he gives space to institutionalized forms of philia (interstate relationships), whereas philia qua every day affective, interpersonal relationship features less prominently in his Histories. Pelling’s analysis shows non-Greek (Persian, Egyptian) as well as Greek contexts of philia in Herodotus but also suggests the historian’s interest in cases where philia goes wrong in various ways and at different levels, as for instance cases where individuals ‘talk the talk’, but their words ring hollow. It is exceedingly rare that such relationships drawn by Herodotus into the limelight function well, especially when they operate in the context of unequal, hierarchical relationships and against the backdrop of a monarchical or tyrannical court. But ultimately, it is the problematic, dysfunctional relationships or the unexpected denouement of philiai that are more appealing from a historiographical perspective; and just as in tragedy so in Herodotus we see philia played out in all its complexity and human mutability.

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In the second Herodotean chapter of this section, Mantzouranis offers a case-study of philia between a monarch, Xerxes, and the Lydian Pythius, that highlights the risks of such unequal, hierarchical relationships. This is another complex relationship that ultimately goes wrong. Whilst the first part of the story deploys the language of xenia and philia, the second utilizes that of a master-slave relationship. Although king Xerxes does consider Pythius his xeinos, the latter is fully aware of the asymmetrical nature of their relationship and addresses him as ‘master’. However, he later seeks to transgress the boundaries of this unequal relationship by asking the king for a favour that not only is not granted by the latter, but causes’ Pythius a tragic bereavement. Herodotus’ story thus illustrates the Aristotelian notion expressed in the Politics, namely that relationships between tyrants and their subjects can only be unequal and, therefore, cannot operate on a principle of reciprocity. It also confirms the fact that Persian kingship actually operates as a tyranny, whereby its subjects cannot but submit fully and unconditionally to their master. In the next chapter, Konstantinopoulos explores Thucydides’ representation of the important role played by philia in interstate relationships in the Greek world. The cultural and ideological context is not unfamiliar, of course. We hear echoes of Herodotus when Thucydides has Themistocles send a letter to the Great King appealing to his friendship with him;63 this is an unequal, asymmetrical relationship that cannot flourish, although this asymmetry is not explored further by Thucydides.64 There are different kinds of appeals to past and present relationships of different qualities: alongside philia, we also see appeals to kinship (syngeneia), but also to formal alliances. As Realpolitik is being played out on the canvas of interstate Greek warfare, we witness radically different outcomes to states’ appeals to philia or other kinds of formal relationships: on occasion they are successful, but we also see them spurned and witness the one-sidedness and precariousness of some cities’ goodwill towards Athens or Sparta. The breakdown of relationships between former allies reaches a nadir in the cynical expression of Athenian power through Cleon’s musings in the Mytilenean debate and, through the Athenian ambassadors, interventions in the Melian dialogue, where friendship is presented as a sign of weakness to the allies. The next chapter looks at the way in which two famous pairs of philoi were depicted in sculpture and helped propagate the ideals of the democracy 63 64

On Themistocles’ interactions see Thuc. 1.137–138; the letter to King Artaxerxes is quoted in 1.137.4. Plutarch’s Life comes across as more realistic in the depiction of the distance between Themistocles and the Persian King during their first encounter Plut. Them. 28.1, 3 but contrast 29.2–4.

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in Athens and in Elis. Thliveri examines the famous statue complex of the tyrannicides, Harmodius and Aristogeiton, two philoi who (as represented in Athenian collective memory—falsely, according to Thucydides) brought down the Peisistratid tyranny. She then transports us to the famous temple of Zeus in Olympia and points at the west pediment where Theseus is represented as standing next to his philos, Peirithous. Thliveri suggests that this artistic representation of this latter pair of philoi probably reflects contemporary political developments in the city of Elis, namely the adoption of democracy after the overthrow of an oligarchy. Thus, Theseus stands for the democracy for which Elis drew inspiration from Athens. What is more, the commemoration of the individuals and the actions for which they became famous is ultimately also a celebration of the stability of their philia relationship. In the last chapter of the section, Scafuro examines a dossier of honorific inscriptions that pertain to exiles from Samos; they are dated to the turbulent period between the foundation of the Athenian cleruchy on the island in 365 that led to the expulsion of and their return as a result of the proclamation by Alexander the Great of the Exiles’ Decree in 324. One of the inscriptions (IG xii 6,1 42) highlights, on the one hand, the ease with which agents from different Greek poleis could effectively act as ‘lobbyists’ within political circles in the Greek world during Alexander’s reign and, on the other, illustrates the way in which philia could operate in extreme and risky circumstances.65 Two distinguished men from Chalcis in Euboea, Antileon and his son, demonstrated the endurance of their community’s bonds of philia with and their own personal eunoia towards the Samians who had been captured by the Athenians upon their return to their native island, sent off to Athens and held in prison awaiting execution. We witness friendship tested in the most perilous circumstances: the Chalcidian father and son paid out of their own pocket for their ransom from custody on the equivalent of Athens’ ‘death row’ and their transferal to safety in Chalcis. We also witness the way in which friendship could operate at different levels at the same time: i) between two individuals (in this case father and son) as representatives of the bonds tying one community to another66 and ii) the personal goodwill (eunoia, that important prerequisite of friendship) shown by Antileon to the Samian prisoners. Thus, we also notice the extent to which friendship between individuals is fundamental to interstate relationships in the wider Greek world. 65 66

Cf. Gorgos and Minnion of Iasos who intervened in negotiations regarding the Exiles’ Decree; see RO 90 (= SIG3 307 = IK Iasos 30) and discussion in Scafuro pp. 249–252. We see here the enactment of bonds of formal philia kai symmachia (‘friendship and alliance’) between Chalcis and Samos. See also p. 2 n. 6 above.

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The next section in the volume (‘Friends and enemies in court’) focuses on the lawcourts as a tableau for the rhetorical ‘performance’ of philia in classical Athens. Filonik’s chapter sets the scene for the rest of the section by showing how conceptual metaphors that operate subconsciously are potent conduits of meaning and ideology. He considers the use of metaphors for friendly relationships within the agonistic world of Athenian politics. He argues convincingly that the centrality of philia to Athenian politics is reflected in the usage of conceptual metaphors in forensic speeches delivered in the context of political trials. He discusses key passages from Lycurgus’ public prosecution Against Leocrates that confirm the deep-rooted conceptualization of the notion of the political community as part of the oikos and citizens as members of the same family. However, the deployment of household metaphors is not always risk-free, especially in a modern political context (just as in ancient Athens). Rubinstein’s contribution focuses on the traumatic period following Athens’ defeat in the Peloponnesian war and the installation of the regime of the Thirty. Through the reconciliation agreements (403/402 and 401/400 bce) the polis sought to bring its citizens together, but as it is to be expected after a civil war, relationships between citizens were strained and ethical principles stretched to their limits: philia was used, abused, and tested in the courts of Athens. Rubinstein focuses on a well-known forensic case involving the son (and namesake) of the famous general Alcibiades and examines the extent to which the legal provisions of the Athenian amnesty might have been extended to cover private suits that had their origins in the period before the overthrow of the democracy, or whether they only applied to public suits. A suit against Alcibiades junior was brought by Teisias at some point in the 390’s and revolved around the team of horses that Alcibiades’ father had allegedly misappropriated at the Olympic Games in 416. However, the type of procedure deployed by Teisias cannot be identified with certainty also due to the fact that the extant forensic speech On the Team of Horses (De Bigis = Isocrates 16) lacks both a prooimion and an epilogos. Rubinstein shows that the plaintiff’s choice of the private procedure dikē exoulēs would not have broken the reconciliation agreement as it sought to recover debts incurred prior to the time of Eucleides. This case-study does not just offer answers to a number of controversial legal questions, but also shows how long-lasting personal enmities might have persisted under the restored democracy and continued to be at the centre of disputes in the Athenian courts. The next chapter, too, considers disputes of a private character in the Athenian administration of justice and the way in which kinship and friendship are played out in inheritance disputes. It suggests that references to these notions operate as overlapping circles in the rhetoric of inheritance cases; after

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all, members of one’s kin could also be friends (see also p. 5 above), while others might be enemies. Griffith-Williams examines six speeches delivered in Athenian inheritance cases and argues that complex argumentation based on philia and echthra (‘enmity’) could make a speaker’s claim based on kinship or their attempt to refute such a claim by an opponent come across as more probable and therefore more likely to persuade an audience. Thus, in a legal context that prioritized inheritance within the circle of kinship, suggestions that a claimant was also a philos of the deceased or that an opponent was an echthros (‘enemy’) could help bolster the persuasiveness of the case they put forward and weaken the claim put forward by the rival claimant(s). It becomes clear that talking about philia or its absence formed part of rhetorical strategies that could help win cases for Athenian litigants. Volonaki’s chapter surveys the different functions of the rhetoric of philia in various legal contexts. She examines in some detail the flexibility in the deployment of philia as a common motif that undergirded a speaker’s wider rhetorical strategy and matched the requirements of the specific legal context. While the centrality and potency of the rhetoric of philia is perhaps unsurprising, Volonaki also illustrates how references to its absence (aphilia) could be harnessed in speakers’ strategies of characterizing opponents. She suggests that, ultimately, the deployment of philia as a commonplace could complement and bolster different types of arguments with a view to increasing the persuasiveness of the speaker’s case. This section on philia in the Athenian lawcourts is rounded off with a brief examination of the rhetorical strategies deployed by Aeschines and Demosthenes in the public trials that took place in fraught period after the Peace of Philocrates. Efstathiou shows the malleability of political networks of philia in Athens at the time and discusses the ways in which the role played by different Athenian politicians in the negotiations leading up to the conclusion of the Peace was negotiated in their lawcourt speeches. He also sheds light on rhetorical strategies of invective used by the political adversaries to undermine their opponents’ character by creating suspicion as to their citizen credentials and by drawing attention to subversive elements of their conduct in public and in private. He concludes that shifts in the wider political context dictated shifts not only in Athenian policy, but necessarily also in the alignment of political networks of philia in the city. The final two shorter sections of the volume touch on selected case-studies that highlight different aspects of the reception of the notion of philia after the classical period and even in seventeenth-century England and late twentiethcentury Ireland. The first section (‘Post-classical friendships’) considers selected reworkings of the notion of philia in Greek prose literature of the Hellenistic

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and Roman imperial periods. Its first chapter considers the moral principle ‘helping friends and harming enemies’ that was fundamental to classical Greek culture and morality in a classical philosophical context. Noussia-Fantuzzi argues that, like philia itself, the practical notion of helping friends and harming enemies proves to be flexible and adaptable over time. She shows how, already in the classical period, Socratic thinking appears to deviate from this widely known moral principle and veers more towards notions of utility in friendship that develop further in Cynic thought. She argues that the wellestablished idea of reciprocity between two philoi gradually gives way to an understanding of the relationship between the individuals as equals in virtue. And as the understanding of philia is shifting, the concept of enmity, too, moves away from the expectation of returning harm for harm done; rather, it starts being seen as an inability to return anything other than Cynic virtue. Whilst the philosophical circles debated and helped develop the understanding of philia through the classical and Hellenistic periods, Pausanias, an antiquarian and geographer writing during the Roman Empire, is an outlier among the authors covered in this volume. Although he is steeped in the classical past, philia appears to have been an incidental issue rather than a fundamental notion in his work. It is very likely that debates on friendship would have been part of Pausanias’ wider intellectual milieu (including Plutarch’s relevant essay), but, although he has opportunities to at least cite the friendship of famous heroes he discusses, he does not give philia any extensive coverage. However, he does cite various types of friendship between gods, men, and those born out of political expedience as well as interstate eunoia, but refuses to get drawn to the contours, complexities, and vagaries of philia. Conversely, Libanius, the famous rhetorician of the fourth century ce, has left behind many letters to friends, colleagues, students, and officials, which shed bright light on to his understanding of the notion of philia. This is an underexplored area of research that Kraus helps draw attention to, as he discusses the rich and formative intellectual context within which Libanius lived, but also the rhetorician’s own conceptualization of philia. The complexity of his understanding of the concept may in fact suggest that Libanius was closer to modern notions of friendship that one might have thought. The final section of the volume (‘The afterlife of ancient philia’) showcases two case-studies of the way in which the notion of philia has been recontextualized in modern contexts. Whilst Libanius’ work and ideas are rooted in the Greek intellectual and educational tradition and at the same time engaging the contemporary intellectual environment, the first chapter by Kentrotis Zinellis reveals the effect that Sophocles’ Antigone, a play famous for its presentation

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of philia-relationships, has had on the cultural and political life of Ireland at a critical time in the late twentieth-century history of the country. Whilst Tom Paulin, a Northern-Irish poet, adapts and reworks the Sophoclean play and the representation of Antigone as a voice of the Nationalist cause, this contrasts sharply with an earlier negative portrayal of the figure of Antigone by a unionist politician, Conor Cruise O’Brien. Kentrotis Zinellis maintains that Tom Paulin turns out to be Antigone’s philos by not only redeeming her figure but also imprinting her onto Irish collective consciousness. In the final chapter in this section and the whole book, Konstan draws attention to a different reception of the ancient concept of philia. He uncovers the story of the friendship between Sir John Finch and Sir Thomas Baines, both now commemorated in paired paintings displayed in a prominent place in the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge. Their relationship started in Cambridge where their tombs are also located. Konstan delves into their intellectual background and suggests convincingly that their lifelong philia, but also their joint interment, was inspired and moulded by an eclectic mix of classical ideas of philia that they espoused and their close familiarity with Greek texts on the topic, such as Lucian’s dialogue On Friendship. We thus see the longevity and adaptability of notions of friendships and the way in which they often intersect in unexpected ways.

Bibliography Adkins, A.W.H. (1963). ‘Friendship’ and ‘Self-Sufficiency’ in Homer and Aristotle. CQ 13.1, pp. 30–45. Belfiore, E. (1998). Harming Friends: Problematic Reciprocity in Greek Tragedy. In: C. Gill, N. Postlethwaite, and R. Seaford, eds., Reciprocity in Ancient Greece, Oxford, pp. 139–158. Bell, S. and Coleman, S., eds. (2020). The Anthropology of Friendship. Oxford/New York. Blundell, M.W. (1989). Helping Friends and Harming Enemies: A Study in Sophocles and Greek Ethics. Cambridge. Caluori, D., ed. (2013). Thinking about Friendship. Historical and Contemporary Philosophical Perspectives. Basingstoke/New York. Connor, W.R. (1971). The New Politicians of Fifth-Century Athens. Indianapolis/Cambridge. D’Agostini, M., Anson, E.M., and Pownall, F. eds. (2021). Affective Relationships and Personal Bonds in Hellenistic Antiquity: Studies in Honor of Elizabeth D. Carney. Oxford. Digeser, P.E. (2009). Friendship between States. British Journal of Political Science 39.2, pp. 323–344.

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Domingo Gygax, M. (2016). Benefaction and Rewards in the Ancient Greek City: The Origins of Euergetism. Cambridge. Dover, K.J. (1974). Greek Popular Morality in the Time of Plato and Aristotle. Oxford. Funke, P. (1980). Homonoia und Arché: Athen und die griechische Staatenwelt vom Ende des peloponnesischen Krieges bis zum Königsfrieden (404/3–387/6 v.Chr.). Stuttgart. Gill, C., Postlethwaite, N., and Seaford, R. eds. (1998). Reciprocity in Ancient Greece. Oxford/New York. Goldhill, S. (1986). Reading Greek Tragedy. Cambridge. Hatzopoulos, M. (1996). Macedonian Institutions under the Kings, Vol. i (A Historical and Epigraphic Study). Athens. Herman, G. (1987). Ritualised Friendship and the Greek City. Cambridge. Jones, N.F. (1999). The Associations of Classical Athens: The Response of Democracy. Oxford/New York. Konstan, D. (1997). Friendship in the Classical World, Cambridge. Konstan, D. (1998). Reciprocity and Friendship. In: C. Gill, N. Postlethwaite, and R. Seaford, eds., Reciprocity in Ancient Greece, Oxford/New York, pp. 279–301. Mack, W. (2015). Proxeny and the Polis: Institutional Networks in the Ancient Greek World. Oxford. Millett, P. (1991). Lending and Borrowing in Ancient Athens. Cambridge. Mitchell, L. (1997). Greeks Bearing Gifts: The Public Use of Private Relationships in the Greek World, 435–323. Cambridge. Nehamas, A. (2016). On Friendship. New York. Rapp, C. (2013). The Emotional Dimension of Friendship: Notes on Aristotle’s Account of Philia in Rhetoric ii 4. Anuario Filosofiko 46.1, 23–47. Stern-Gillett, S. and Gurtler, G.M. eds. (2014). Ancient and Medieval Concepts of Friendship. Albany. van Berkel, T.A. (2019). The Economics of Friendship: Conceptions of Reciprocity in Ancient Greece, Mnemosyne Suppl. 429. Leiden. Walbank, M.B. (1978). Athenian Proxenies of the Fifth Century b.c. Toronto. Whitehead, D. (1993). Cardinal Virtues: The Language of Public Approbation in Classical Athens. C&M 44, pp. 37–75.

part 1 The Poetics of Friendship

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chapter 1

Three Friendships Michael J. Edwards

My aim in this chapter is to discuss three aspects of friendship, with a mixture of illustrative passages drawn from Homer, tragedy, and oratory, and, given that ancient Greece was a society in which an accepted moral value was to help one’s friends and harm one’s enemies,1 enmity will also feature prominently. The first context I shall cover is that of friendship within the family. For friendship, like charity, begins at home, and the most famous friendship of all goes all the way back, like most things, to Homer, in this instance to Achilles and Patroclus. As we just noted, where there are friends in Greek literature there are also enemies, and it is early on in the Iliad, after his first spat with Agamemnon, that Achilles breaks up the assembly he has called beside the ships: Πηλεΐδης μὲν ἐπὶ κλισίας καὶ νῆας ἐΐσας ἤϊε σύν τε Μενοιτιάδῃ καὶ οἷς ἑτάροισιν. Peleus’ son went back to his balanced ships and his shelter with Patroklos, Menoitios’ son, and his own companions. (Il. 1.306–307; trans. Lattimore [1951]) This first mention of Patroclus both confirms his friendship with Achilles and indicates their complex familial relationship: Menoetius was the son of Actor, whose mother was Aegina who was also the mother of Aeacus by Zeus, Aeacus in turn being the father of Peleus. So, Patroclus was Achilles’ older cousin, and after being brought up together it is small wonder that Patroclus was Achilles’ πολὺ φίλτατος … ἑταῖρος, his ‘dearest companion’ (Il. 17.44). Perhaps they were lovers as well—‘No reverence hadst thou for the unsullied holiness of thy limbs, oh thou most ungrateful for my many kisses!’ (Aesch. frg. 64, trans. Smyth [1924])2—but that is for another discussion, and I shall merely note here, as

1 Among many studies see, e.g., Blundell (1989). 2 σέβας δὲ μηρῶν ἁγνὸν οὐκ ἐπῃδέσω, ὦ δυσχάριστε τῶν πυκνῶν φιλημάτων (Ath. 13.79).

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Nick Fisher and others have highlighted,3 Aeschines’ poignant comment on the pair after Patroclus’ ghost has visited Achilles: καθεύδοντος δ’ αὐτοῦ ἐπὶ τῇ πυρᾷ, ὥς φησιν ὁ ποιητής, εἴδωλον ἐφίσταται τοῦ Πατρόκλου, καὶ τοιούτων ἐπεμνήσθη καὶ τοιαῦτα ἐπέσκηψε τῷ Ἀχιλλεῖ ἐφ’ οἷς καὶ δακρῦσαι καὶ ζηλῶσαι τὴν ἀρετὴν καὶ τὴν φιλίαν ἄξιον αὐτῶν ἐστιν. And while he is asleep at the pyre, as the poet tells us, Patroclus’ ghost appears to him; and the memories he stirred, and the solemn instructions he gave Achilles, deserve both our tears and our admiration for their virtue and their friendship. (Aeschin. 1.146; trans. Carey [2000]) There are some good family relationships in tragedy and oratory, as well as plenty of bad ones. The blinded Oedipus is helped along by his daughter Antigone: γεραὸν ἐς χέρα σῶμα σὸν προκλίνας φιλίαν ἐμάν. … step by step, our steps together, lean your aged body on my loving arm. (Soph. OC 200–201; trans. Fagles [1984]) Then he is reunited with his second daughter, Ismene: Ὦ δισσὰ πατρὸς καὶ κασιγνήτης ἐμοὶ ἥδιστα προσφωνήμαθ’, ὡς ὑμᾶς μόλις εὑροῦσα λύπῃ δεύτερον μόλις βλέπω. Father— sister—the two words I love the most, I love to say the most! So hard to find you, now I can hardly see you through my tears. (Soph. OC 324–326; trans. Fagles [1984]) Naturally, however, with this model of a dysfunctional family there lies trouble ahead, in the shape of Oedipus’ two sons, Eteocles and Polyneices. Ismene brings bad news about them; Oedipus replies: 3 See Fisher (2001) 291, with further references.

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ὢ πάντ’ ἐκείνω τοῖς ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ νόμοις φύσιν κατεικασθέντε καὶ βίου τροφάς· ἐκεῖ γὰρ οἱ μὲν ἄρσενες κατὰ στέγας θακοῦσιν ἱστουργοῦντες, αἱ δὲ σύννομοι τἄξω βίου τροφεῖα πορσύνουσ’ ἀεί. σφῷν δ’, ὦ τέκν’, οὓς μὲν εἰκὸς ἦν πονεῖν τάδε, κατ’ οἶκον οἰκουροῦσιν ὥστε παρθένοι, σφὼ δ’ ἀντ’ ἐκείνοιν τἀμὰ δυστήνου κακὰ ὑπερπονεῖτον … So, just like Egyptians, aren’t they? Heart and soul! The same habits, same way they live their lives. There it’s the men who loll about indoors, doing the work of women at the loom, but the wives are out and working, winning the daily bread, day in, day out. Look at yourselves, children. Your brothers, who should perform this labor, tend the hearth like girls, but you, you take their place, shouldering all your father’s grinding sorrows. (Soph. OC 337–345; trans. Fagles [1984]) According to Statius, the two brothers were too busy regretting their deal to share the throne of Thebes to help their father and sisters: … alterni placuit sub legibus anni exilio mutare ducem. sic iure maligno Fortunam transire iubent ut sceptra tenentem foedere praecipiti semper nouus angeret heres. haec inter fratres pietas erat, haec mora pugnae sola nec in regem perduratura secundum. It was agreed under conditions of alternate years to exchange sovereignty for exile. Thus by an ill-spirited law they require Fortune to change sides so that under their rash agreement the new heir would for ever harass the one wielding the sceptre. This was the affection between the brothers, this the sole impediment to conflict and one not destined to last until a second king. (Stat. Theb. 1.138–143; trans. Ritchie, Hall, and Edwards [2007])

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Not all members of families get on with each other, then. If they did, there would be no speeches of Isaeus. High on the list of dysfunctional Athenian families must be that of Hagnias, whose descendants spent many years disputing the inheritance of his estate. The legal rights and wrongs of the situation have been much disputed and do not concern us here4—Theopompus, the speaker of Isaeus 11, may or may not have been within his rights to inherit Hagnias’ estate as a second cousin according to the law of succession of collateral relatives, but he certainly does claim correctly that this law excluded from the succession the son of his deceased brother Stratocles. But the allegation was that he had done a deal during an earlier phase of the dispute that he would share the estate with his brother’s son, which he had then reneged on after his brother’s death, and however you look at the legal niceties, Theopompus was hardly the boy’s favourite uncle. In Isaeus 11, indeed, Theopompus is defending himself against a charge of maltreating his nephew as one of his guardians, and while he won the case, doubtless to a large extent because of the logographic skills of Isaeus, Theopompus does not come out of all this covered in glory, despite statements such as: οἴομαι μὲν οὖν καὶ ἐκ τῶν ἤδη εἰρημένων γιγνώσκεσθαι ὑμῖν ὅτι οὔτ’ ἀδικῶ τὸν παῖδα οὐδὲν οὔτ’ ἔνοχός εἰμι ταύταις ταῖς αἰτίαις. I think, then, you realize from what I’ve already said that I am not doing the boy any wrong nor am I in the least bit liable to these charges. (Isae. 11.5; trans. Edwards [2007]) But the boy did not get the money. Another brother who gave guardianship a bad name was Diogeiton, the man accused of defrauding his brother’s sons in Lysias 32. There, Lysias cleverly inserts into the speaker’s narrative, in both direct and reported speech, the otherwise inadmissible evidence of the children’s mother, Diogeiton’s own daughter who had married her uncle Diodotus, Diogeiton’s brother: καὶ ἐκβάλλειν τούτους ἠξίωσας θυγατριδοῦς ὄντας ἐκ τῆς οἰκίας τῆς αὑτῶν ἐν τριβωνίοις, ἀνυποδήτους, οὐ μετὰ ἀκολούθου, οὐ μετὰ στρωμάτων, οὐ μετὰ ἱματίων, οὐ μετὰ τῶν ἐπίπλων ἃ ⟨ὁ⟩ πατὴρ αὐτοῖς κατέλιπεν, οὐδὲ μετὰ τῶν παρακαταθηκῶν ἃς ἐκεῖνος παρὰ σοὶ κατέθετο.

4 See, e.g., Thompson (1976); Humphreys (1983), (2018) 219–221.

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You thought it right to throw out of their own house those who were your daughter’s sons, wearing only threadbare garments, without shoes, without attendants, without bedding, without clothing, without the household furniture their father left them, and without the sums on deposit which he placed in your hands. (Lys. 32.16; trans. Todd [2000]) Shades of David Copperfield and Oliver Twist, but all too real for the characters involved and a story made all the more vivid by Lysias’ brilliant rhetoric. The key member of a man’s family is his wife, who will hopefully, as the φιλroot of words like philos and philia covers, be a lover and a friend. This, then, is my second category of friendship. The mother and wife of Lysias 32 is the model of a good woman, at least from a male perspective, that again goes back to Homer, and Penelope: τῇ δ’ ἄρ’ ἐπὶ φρεσὶ θῆκε θεὰ γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη, κούρῃ Ἰκαρίοιο, περίφρονι Πηνελοπείῃ, μνηστήρεσσι φανῆναι, ὅπως πετάσειε μάλιστα θυμὸν μνηστήρων ἰδὲ τιμήεσσα γένοιτο μᾶλλον πρὸς πόσιός τε καὶ υἱέος ἢ πάρος ἦεν. But now the goddess, gray-eyed Athene, put it in the mind of the daughter of Ikarios, circumspect Penelope, to show herself to the suitors, so that she might all the more open their hearts, and so that she might seem all the more precious in the eyes of her husband and son even than she had been before this. (Hom. Od. 18.158–162; trans. Lattimore [1967]) We do not need the version in Pindar (fr. 90), Herodotus (2.145) and elsewhere that Penelope was the mother of Pan (a confusion with the name of a mountain nymph), and we certainly ignore the aetiological version in Duris of Samos that she slept with all the 108 or more suitors and gave birth to Pan (Tzetzes ad Lycoph. Alex. 772). There are, on the other hand, plenty of bad wives in Greek literature, notably Helen. However much Euripides, Gorgias and others tried to redeem Helen’s reputation, such as by sending her to King Proteus of Egypt and a phantom to Troy, the mud stuck. Homer himself does not portray her unambivalently: ὡς ὄφελεν θάνατός μοι ἁδεῖν κακὸς ὁππότε δεῦρο υἱέϊ σῷ ἑπόμην θάλαμον γνωτούς τε λιποῦσα παῖδά τε τηλυγέτην καὶ ὁμηλικίην ἐρατεινήν.

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ἀλλὰ τά γ’ οὐκ ἐγένοντο· τὸ καὶ κλαίουσα τέτηκα. τοῦτο δέ τοι ἐρέω ὅ μ’ ἀνείρεαι ἠδὲ μεταλλᾷς· οὗτός γ’ Ἀτρεΐδης εὐρὺ κρείων Ἀγαμέμνων, ἀμφότερον βασιλεύς τ’ ἀγαθὸς κρατερός τ’ αἰχμητής· δαὴρ αὖτ’ ἐμὸς ἔσκε κυνώπιδος. … and I wish bitter death had been what I wanted, when I came hither following your son, forsaking my chamber, my kinsmen, my grown child, and the loveliness of girls my own age. It did not happen that way: and now I am worn with weeping. This now I will tell you in answer to the question you asked me. That man is Atreus’ son Agamemnon, widely powerful, at the same time a good king and a strong spearfighter, once my kinsman, slut that I am … (Il. 3.173–180; trans. Lattimore [1951]) Since a naked Aphrodite had tricked Paris into awarding her the golden apple by promising Helen to Paris, and he not unnaturally fell for it, it was perhaps not entirely Helen’s fault; and she is anyway far outdone by Medea. Doubtless most men would think it wonderful to wake up next to a woman with magical powers (as Odysseus would testify),5 but it is not so good when you betray her: πικρὸς πολίταις ἐστὶν ἀμαθίας ὕπο. ἐμοὶ δ’ ἄελπτον πρᾶγμα προσπεσὸν τόδε ψυχὴν διέφθαρκ’· οἴχομαι δὲ καὶ βίου χάριν μεθεῖσα κατθανεῖν χρήιζω, φίλαι. ἐν ὧι γὰρ ἦν μοι πάντα, γιγνώσκω καλῶς, κάκιστος ἀνδρῶν ἐκβέβηχ’ οὑμὸς πόσις. πάντων δ’ ὅσ’ ἔστ’ ἔμψυχα καὶ γνώμην ἔχει γυναῖκές ἐσμεν ἀθλιώτατον φυτόν· ἃς πρῶτα μὲν δεῖ χρημάτων ὑπερβολῆι πόσιν πρίασθαι δεσπότην τε σώματος λαβεῖν· κακοῦ γὰρ τοῦτ’ ἔτ’ ἄλγιον κακόν. κἀν τῶιδ’ ἀγὼν μέγιστος, ἢ κακὸν λαβεῖν ἢ χρηστόν· οὐ γὰρ εὐκλεεῖς ἀπαλλαγαὶ γυναιξὶν οὐδ’ οἷόν τ’ ἀνήνασθαι πόσιν. … λέγουσι δ’ ἡμᾶς ὡς ἀκίνδυνον βίον

5 But see Hom. Od. 5.154–155.

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ζῶμεν κατ’ οἴκους, οἱ δὲ μάρνανται δορί, κακῶς φρονοῦντες· ὡς τρὶς ἂν παρ’ ἀσπίδα στῆναι θέλοιμ’ ἂν μᾶλλον ἢ τεκεῖν ἅπαξ. But this matter has fallen upon me unexpectedly and destroyed my spirit; I am finished, and having let go of the joy of life I want to die, my friends. For my husband, on whom everything depended for me, I know it well, has turned out to be the worst of men. Of all things that have life and reason we women are the most wretched creation; we, who must first buy a husband for an extravagant sum of money and take a master for our bodies; this is an evil worse still than evil. And in this there is a great challenge, whether one gets a good one or a bad one; for divorce gives women a bad name, nor is it possible to reject one’s husband.... They say that we live a life without danger in the house while they fight with the spear, but they think wrongly; I would rather stand in the battle-line three times than give birth once. (Eur. Med. 224–251; trans. Mossman [2011]) Judith Mossman comments perceptively on the last line, ‘So although a fifth century Athenian male audience may have seen Medea’s 3:1 equation as rhetorical hyperbole, they may not, or may not all, have seen her words as outlandish’.6 I note additionally the meta-rhetoric here, in the standard rhetorical use of the figure of three. As with Paris, and even more so with Jason, it is clearly the man’s fault. But the worst wife of all, however much Agamemnon came home with his concubine Cassandra, is undoubtedly Helen’s sister Clytemnestra, at least in the version that has become standard because of Aeschylus. Her love for Aegisthus leads her to murder her husband as well as his mistress, and she persuades him to walk sacrilegiously on the purple tapestries, with rhetoric in the following stichomythia befitting a man: {Κλ.} καὶ μὴν τόδ’ εἰπὲ μὴ παρὰ γνώμην ἐμοί. {Αγ.} γνώμην μὲν ἴσθι μὴ διαφθεροῦντ’ ἐμέ. {Κλ.} ηὔξω θεοῖς δείσας ἂν ὧδ’ ἔρδειν τάδε; {Αγ.} εἴπερ τις, εἰδώς γ’ εὖ τόδ’ ἐξεῖπον τέλος. {Κλ.} τί δ’ ἂν δοκεῖ σοι Πρίαμος, εἰ τάδ’ ἤνυσεν; {Αγ.} ἐν ποικίλοις ἂν κάρτα μοι βῆναι δοκεῖ. {Κλ.} μή νυν τὸν ἀνθρώπειον αἰδεσθῇς ψόγον.

6 Mossman (2011) 239.

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{Αγ.} φήμη γε μέντοι δημόθρους μέγα σθένει. {Κλ.} ὁ δ’ ἀφθόνητός γ’ οὐκ ἐπίζηλος πέλει. {Αγ.} οὔτοι γυναικός ἐστιν ἱμείρειν μάχης. {Κλ.} τοῖς δ’ ὀλβίοις γε καὶ τὸ νικᾶσθαι πρέπει. {Αγ.} ἦ καὶ σὺ νίκην τήνδε δήριος τίεις; {Κλ.} πιθοῦ· κρατεῖς μέντοι παρεὶς ἑκὼν ἐμοί. {Αγ.} ἀλλ’ εἰ δοκεῖ σοι ταῦθ’, ὑπαί τις ἀρβύλας λύοι τάχος … Cl. Come, tell me this, not against your judgment. Ag. My judgment, be assured, I shall not suppress. Cl. Would you have vowed to the gods, in a moment of fear, that you would act after this fashion? Ag. Yes, if any with sure knowledge had prescribed this ritual. Cl. What do you think Priam would have done, had he accomplished this? Ag. Indeed he would have walked upon embroideries, I think. Cl. Then feel no scruple for the reproach of men. Ag. Yet talk in the mouths of the people has great power. Cl. But he of whom none is jealous is not envied. Ag. It is not a woman’s part to desire contention. Cl. But for the fortunate even to yield up victory is becoming. Ag. Do you in truth value victory in this contest? Cl. Be persuaded; you are the winner, if willingly you leave all to me. Ag. Well, if this is your pleasure, let someone swiftly loose my boots … (Aesch. Ag. 931–945; trans. Lloyd-Jones [1982]) The women, in fact, get many of the best lines in these plays, and so it is with Deianeira. Waiting for her absent husband Heracles, she echoes the words of Medea: ἐς τοῦθ’ ἕως τις ἀντὶ παρθένου γυνὴ κληθῇ λάβῃ τ’ ἐν νυκτὶ φροντίδων μέρος ἤτοι πρὸς ἀνδρὸς ἢ τέκνων φοβουμένη· τότ’ ἄν τις εἰσίδοιτο, τὴν αὑτοῦ σκοπῶν πρᾶξιν, κακοῖσιν οἷς ἐγὼ βαρύνομαι. … But when she that was a maid Must take the name of wife, she takes a burden Of nightmare terrors, suffering for husband or children.

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Any woman who has known this, will know What kind of thing I suffer. (Soph. Trach. 148–152; trans. Watling [1953]) On learning that Heracles has taken the princess Iole as his lover, Deianeira attempts to win him back by smearing a cloak with a love potion, given to her by the centaur Nessus. But the cloak is actually smeared with poison that kills him. A similar story is related in Antiphon 1, where the speaker’s stepmother, either to regain the love of her husband like Deianeira, or simply to kill him as the stepson alleges, secures the services of the concubine of her husband’s best friend, who is understandably upset at the prospect of being rewarded for her love by being placed in a brothel: ἔδοξεν οὖν αὐτῇ βουλευομένῃ βέλτιον εἶναι μετὰ δεῖπνον δοῦναι, τῆς Κλυταιμνήστρας ταύτης [τούτου μητρὸς] ταῖς ὑποθήκαις ἅμα διακονοῦσαν. Finally, following the advice of Clytemnestra—this man’s mother—she decided it would be better to give it after dinner. (Antiph. 1.17; trans. Gagarin [1998]) The stepson naturally uses the epitome of the husband-murderer in his metaphor, though his opponent, ‘this man’s mother’ (i.e. his stepbrother), might have used Deianeira. No happy families here. Nor is it a happy situation in Lysias 1, where the speaker Euphiletus has caught his wife in bed with Eratosthenes and killed him. Again, a woman gets the best line, in this case an old crone, the servant of a jilted mistress, who tells Euphiletus what is going on: … ὃς οὐ μόνον τὴν σὴν γυναῖκα διέφθαρκεν ἀλλὰ καὶ ἄλλας πολλάς· ταύτην γὰρ [τὴν] τέχνην ἔχει. He has seduced not only your wife but many others as well. He makes a hobby of it. (Lys. 1. 16; trans. Todd [2000]) The word in the Greek for ‘hobby’ is technē, on which Todd comments, ‘lit. “craft-skill”, almost “profession”’, which might have been a better translation.7 Of course, not all wives are bad in oratory. As well as the one we encountered in Lysias 32, we have the following good wife in Demosthenes:

7 Todd (2000) 18 n. 5.

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μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα χρόνῳ ὕστερον παιδίων αὐτῇ δυοῖν ἤδη γεγενημένων, καὶ τοῦ μὲν πατρὸς στρατευομένου καὶ ἀποδημοῦντος μετὰ Θρασυβούλου, αὐτὴ δ’ οὖσ’ ἐν ἀπορίαις ἠναγκάσθη τὸν Κλεινίαν τὸν τοῦ Κλειδίκου τιτθεῦσαι, τῷ μὲν εἰς ἔμ’ ἥκοντι κινδύνῳ νῦν μὰ τὸν Δι’ οὐχὶ συμφέρον πρᾶγμα ποιήσασα (ἀπὸ γὰρ ταύτης τῆς τιτθείας ἅπασ’ ἡ περὶ ἡμᾶς γέγονεν βλασφημία), τῇ μέντοι ὑπαρχούσῃ πενίᾳ ἴσως καὶ ἀναγκαῖα καὶ ἁρμόττοντα ποιοῦσα. Later on, when my mother had two babies, my father went away on campaign with Thrasybulus; because she was without means, she was forced to serve as a wet-nurse to Cleinias the son of Cleidicus. Doing that brought no advantage, by Zeus, to me in the danger that would come, since this work as a wet-nurse is the source of all the slander about us; but perhaps she did this both under the compulsion of the poverty that beset her and as a way of adapting to it. (57.42; Bers [2003]) The speaker Euxitheus later actually names his mother, Nicarete (Dem. 57.68), a very unusual thing to do with an Athenian citizen woman, but presumably it is because he is appealing against being struck off the citizen register and has to prove that both his parents were citizens. My final category is friendship with others outside the family, which in the ancient context immediately reminds us of Homeric guest-friendship. Glaucus rushes to attack the great hero Diomedes, but fortunately for him Diomedes asks who he is, and after a bizarre discussion of their lineage in the midst of battle realizes that they are guest-friends. But it is not an entirely happy ending: Ὣς ἄρα φωνήσαντε καθ’ ἵππων ἀΐξαντε χεῖράς τ’ ἀλλήλων λαβέτην καὶ πιστώσαντο· ἔνθ’ αὖτε Γλαύκῳ Κρονίδης φρένας ἐξέλετο Ζεύς, ὃς πρὸς Τυδεΐδην Διομήδεα τεύχε’ ἄμειβε χρύσεα χαλκείων, ἑκατόμβοι’ ἐννεαβοίων. So they spoke, and both springing down from behind their horses gripped each other’s hands and exchanged the promise of friendship; but Zeus the son of Kronos stole away the wits of Glaukos who exchanged with Diomedes the son of Tydeus armor of gold for bronze, for nine oxen’s worth the worth of a hundred. (Hom. Il. 6.232–236; trans. Lattimore [1951])

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The poor Phaeacians fared little better. They gave Odysseus ‘numberless gifts, as bronze, and gold abundant, and woven clothing, more than Odysseus could ever have taken from Troy’ (Od. 13.135–137).8 Their reward? Their boat was turned to stone by Poseidon, Odysseus’ foe. If Achilles and Patroclus are the most famous friendship, not far behind comes that of Orestes and Pylades, though again technically they were cousins, since Pylades’ mother Anaxibia was the sister of Agamemnon, Orestes’ father. Unlike the women, Pylades gets few lines, at least in the three extant plays focused on Electra. In fact, he only speaks once, but his contribution is rather telling: {Ορ.} Πυλάδη, τί δράσω; μητέρ’ αἰδεσθῶ κτανεῖν; {ΠΥΛΑΔΗΣ} ποῦ δὴ τὸ λοιπὸν Λοξίου μαντεύματα τὰ πυθόχρηστα, πιστά τ’ εὐορκώματα; ἅπαντας ἐχθροὺς τῶν θεῶν ἡγοῦ πλέον. {Ορ.} κρίνω σε νικᾶν, καὶ παραινεῖς μοι καλῶς. ἕπου, πρὸς αὐτὸν τόνδε σε σφάξαι θέλω. Orestes: Pylades, what am I to do? Shall I respect my mother, and not kill her? Pylades: Where henceforth shall be the oracles of Loxias declared at Pytho, and the covenant you pledged on oath? Count all men your enemies rather than the gods! Orestes: I judge you the victor, and your advice is good. [To Clytemnestra] Come this way! I wish to kill you. (Aesch. Cho. 899–904; trans. Lloyd-Jones [1982]) Friends in the orators tend to support one another in less violent ways: Ἐπιτήδειοί μοι τυγχάνουσιν, ὦ ἄνδρες, ὄντες Ἅγνων τε οὑτοσὶ καὶ Ἁγνόθεος, καὶ ὁ πατὴρ αὐτῶν ἔτι πρότερον. Εἰκὸς οὖν μοι δοκεῖ εἶναι, ὡς ἂν οἷός τε ὦ, συνειπεῖν αὐτοῖς. Hagnon here and Hagnotheus, gentlemen, happen to be close friends of mine, as was their father before them. I therefore think it reasonable to speak in their support as best I can. (Isae. 4.1; trans. Edwards [2007]) 8

ἔδοσαν δέ οἱ ἄσπετα δῶρα, χαλκόν τε χρυσόν τε ἅλις ἐσθῆτά θ’ ὑφαντήν, πόλλ’, ὅσ’ ἂν οὐδέ ποτε Τροίης ἐξήρατ’ Ὀδυσσεύς. Trans. Lattimore (1967).

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Unless, that is, you happen to fall in with another of the most sinister characters in Isaeus’ speeches, the scoundrel Dicaeogenes. According to Menexenus, the speaker of Isaeus 5, this man had an unusual way with women: Δικαιογένης δὲ πρὸς ἡμᾶς ὡς ἐβούλετο ἀγωνισάμενος τῇ αὐτῇ ἡμέρᾳ ἐξήλασε μὲν τὴν Κηφισοφῶντος τοῦ Παιανιέως θυγατέρα ἐκ τοῦ μέρους, ἀδελφὴν οὖσαν Δικαιογένους τοῦ καταλιπόντος τὰ χρήματα, ἀφείλετο δὲ τὴν Δημοκλέους γενομένην γυναῖκα ἃ Δικαιογένης ἀδελφὸς ὢν ἔδωκεν, ἀφείλετο ⟨δὲ⟩ καὶ τὴν Κηφισοδότου μητέρα καὶ αὐτὸν τοῦτον ἅπαντα. Dicaeogenes, after winning the verdict he wanted against us, on the very same day drove out of her share the wife of Cephisophon of Paeania, the sister of Dicaeogenes who left the money, robbed the former wife of Democles of what her brother Dicaeogenes had left her, and also robbed the mother of Cephisodotus and Cephisodotus himself of everything they had. (Isae. 5.9; trans. Edwards [2007]) Not only that, but this is how he treated his best friend, the Egyptian Melas (who had according to the speaker Menexenus given false testimony on Dicaeogenes’ behalf to help him secure the estate) and his other friends: τῶν δ’ ἐπιτηδείων Μέλανα μὲν τὸν Αἰγύπτιον, ᾧ ἐκ μειρακίου φίλος ἦν, ὅπερ ἔλαβε παρ’ αὐτοῦ ἀργύριον ἀποστερήσας, ἔχθιστός ἐστι· τῶν δὲ ἄλλων αὐτοῦ φίλων οἱ μὲν οὐκ ἀπέλαβον ἃ ἐδάνεισαν, οἱ δ’ ἐξηπατήθησαν καὶ οὐκ ἔλαβον ἃ ὑπέσχετο αὐτοῖς, εἰ ἐπιδικάσαιτο τοῦ κλήρου, δώσειν. Of his close friends he deprived Melas the Egyptian, who had been his friend from boyhood, of money he’d received from him and is now his bitterest enemy; and of his other friends, some have not recovered money they lent him, others were deceived and never received what he’d promised to give them if the estate were adjudicated to him. (Isae. 5.40; trans. Edwards [2007]) With friends like that, who needs enemies? Not that Menexenus had any time for Melas, and the Athenians clearly had a love-hate relationship with Egypt, on which they depended for supplies of grain, but which they had tried to conquer in the 450s when they lost nearly the whole of their army (Thuc. 1.109–110) and which was, according to Thucydides (2.48), the source of the great plague of 430 that killed Pericles, spreading from Ethiopia in upper Egypt to Egypt and Libya. Odi et amo, indeed.

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Acknowledgements The chapter is a revised version of the paper I delivered at the conference on Philia organized by the Department of Philology at Kalamata in 2017, which honoured Chris Carey and myself on the occasion of our being made Honorary Professors. I remain very grateful to the Department for affording me this distinction.

Bibliography Bers, V., trans. (2003). Demosthenes, Speeches 50–59. Austin. Blundell, M.W. (1989). Helping Friends and Harming Enemies: A Study in Sophocles and Greek Ethics. Cambridge. Carey, C., trans. (2000). Aeschines. Austin. Edwards, M.J., trans. (2007). Isaeus. Austin. Fagles, R., trans. (1984). Sophocles: The Three Theban Plays. Harmondsworth. Fisher, N.R.E. (2001). Aeschines: Against Timarchos. Oxford. Gagarin, M., and MacDowell, D.M., trans. (1998). Antiphon and Andocides. Austin. Humphreys, S.C. (1983). The Date of Hagnias’ Death. CPh 78, pp. 219–225. Humphreys, S.C. (2018). Kinship in Ancient Athens, vol. 1. Oxford. Lattimore, R.A., trans. (1951). The Iliad of Homer. Chicago. Lattimore, R.A., trans. (1967). The Odyssey of Homer. New York. Lloyd-Jones, H., trans. (1982). Aeschylus: Oresteia. London. Mossman, J. (2011). Euripides: Medea. Oxford. Ritchie, A.L., Hall, J.B., and Edwards, M.J. (2007). P. Papinius Statius. Volume ii. Thebaid and Achilleid. Newcastle. Smyth, H. Weir (1926). Aeschylus ii. Cambridge, MA/London. Thompson, W.E. (1976). De Hagniae Hereditate: An Athenian Inheritance Case. Leiden. Todd, S.C., trans. (2000). Lysias. Austin. Watling, E.F., trans. (1953). Sophocles: Electra and Other Plays. Harmondsworth.

chapter 2

Philia and the Poetics of Tragedy Chris Carey

My interest in this brief chapter is on philia in Aristotle’s Poetics. This is not about, or at least not primarily about, the role of philia in tragedy. It is about the role played by philia in Aristotle’s thinking on tragedy. Like everyone who has ever tried to produce a working model for understanding tragedy, Aristotle visibly struggles with his material. This is hardly surprising since no single model could ever account for all the material. In the Theatre of Dionysus in Athens alone between 500 and 400 bce there were approximately 900 tragedies produced, quite apart from the deme theatres. But Aristotle was born and brought up in a culture in which tragedy was a living art form. He knew the theatre at first hand. He had the opportunity to watch both new tragedies and revivals of fifth-century classics. He could observe the administrative and religious rituals which surrounded the theatre. He had access to the texts of the plays, or at least to those which were in public circulation in his day, and he had researched the production dates and so had a unique diachronic overview. He could observe the process of selection of plays for performance and hear the discussion of the crowds as they assembled and dispersed before and after the plays. This last bit is important because Aristotle tends to start from observed or agreed phenomena in his philosophical works. But the scale and diversity of his first-hand knowledge mean that he has to be taken seriously, even where his descriptions and prescriptions seem too sweeping. In his search for the best plot Aristotle ends up with two basic models for the ideal tragedy which are never fully integrated into a synoptic analysis: πρῶτον μὲν δῆλον ὅτι οὔτε τοὺς ἐπιεικεῖς ἄνδρας δεῖ μεταβάλλοντας φαίνεσθαι ἐξ εὐτυχίας εἰς δυστυχίαν, οὐ γὰρ φοβερὸν οὐδὲ ἐλεεινὸν τοῦτο ἀλλὰ μιαρόν ἐστιν· οὔτε τοὺς μοχθηροὺς ἐξ ἀτυχίας εἰς εὐτυχίαν, ἀτραγῳδότατον γὰρ τοῦτ’ ἐστὶ πάντων, οὐδὲν γὰρ ἔχει ὧν δεῖ, οὔτε γὰρ φιλάνθρωπον οὔτε ἐλεεινὸν οὔτε φοβερόν ἐστιν· οὐδ’ αὖ τὸν σφόδρα πονηρὸν ἐξ εὐτυχίας εἰς δυστυχίαν μεταπίπτειν· τὸ μὲν γὰρ φιλάνθρωπον ἔχοι ἂν ἡ τοιαύτη σύστασις ἀλλ’ οὔτε ἔλεον οὔτε φόβον, ὁ μὲν γὰρ περὶ τὸν ἀνάξιόν ἐστιν δυστυχοῦντα, ὁ δὲ περὶ τὸν ὅμοιον, ἔλεος μὲν περὶ τὸν ἀνάξιον, φόβος δὲ περὶ τὸν ὅμοιον, ὥστε οὔτε ἐλεεινὸν οὔτε φοβερὸν ἔσται τὸ συμβαῖνον. ὁ μεταξὺ ἄρα τούτων λοιπός. ἔστι δὲ τοιοῦτος ὁ μήτε

© Chris Carey, 2023 | doi:10.1163/9789004548671_004

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ἀρετῇ διαφέρων καὶ δικαιοσύνῃ μήτε διὰ κακίαν καὶ μοχθηρίαν μεταβάλλων εἰς τὴν δυστυχίαν ἀλλὰ δι’ ἁμαρτίαν τινά, τῶν ἐν μεγάλῃ δόξῃ ὄντων καὶ εὐτυχίᾳ, οἷον Οἰδίπους καὶ Θυέστης καὶ οἱ ἐκ τῶν τοιούτων γενῶν ἐπιφανεῖς ἄνδρες. First of all, it is clear that decent men must not be shown passing from good fortune to bad. For this is not fearful or pitiful but repugnant. Nor base men from bad fortune to good. For this is the most untragic plot of all. It has none of the effects it should. It is not appealing nor pitiful nor fearful. Nor again should a very bad man pass from good fortune to bad. Such a plot structure would possess appeal but neither pity nor fear. For the one relates to an undeserving man in misfortune, the other to a man like ourselves, pity for the man who does not deserve it, fear for the man like ourselves; so the event stirs neither pity nor fear. So the one between these is left. This sort is a man who without being outstanding in virtue or justice changes from good fortune to bad not through wickedness or baseness but because of some error (hamartia), one of those who enjoy great renown or good fortune, such as Oedipus or Thyestes and the eminent men from such families. (Arist. Poet. 13, 1452b.34–1453a.12)1 ἀνάγκη δὴ ἢ φίλων εἶναι πρὸς ἀλλήλους τὰς τοιαύτας πράξεις ἢ ἐχθρῶν ἢ μηδετέρων. ἂν μὲν οὖν ἐχθρὸς ἐχθρόν, οὐδὲν ἐλεεινὸν οὔτε ποιῶν οὔτε μέλλων, πλὴν κατ’ αὐτὸ τὸ πάθος· οὐδ’ ἂν μηδετέρως ἔχοντες· ὅταν δ’ ἐν ταῖς φιλίαις ἐγγένηται τὰ πάθη, οἷον ἢ ἀδελφὸς ἀδελφὸν ἢ υἱὸς πατέρα ἢ μήτηρ υἱὸν ἢ υἱὸς μητέρα ἀποκτείνῃ ἢ μέλλῃ ἤ τι ἄλλο τοιοῦτον δρᾷ, ταῦτα ζητητέον. Inevitably such acts must be between friends or enemies, or people who are neither. If an enemy acts against an enemy, there is nothing pitiful either in the act or in the intent, except in regard to the suffering itself. Nor if their relationship is neither. But when the painful act takes place in relationships of philia, for instance when brother kills brother, or son father, or mother son, or son mother, or almost does so, or commits some other such act, that is what to aim for. (Arist. Poet. 14, 1453b.15–22) Both passages deal with plot content (ch. 13 συνιστάντας τοὺς μύθους, ch. 14 ἡ σύστασις τῶν πραγμάτων), but the first emphasizes character, the second emphasizes relationships. The essence of the first model is that the ideal tragedy focuses on a change of fortune, ideally from good to bad; its subject is

1 Translations are my own unless otherwise indicated.

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an illustrious but imperfect man, neither completely bad nor completely good, and he comes to grief because of some error (hamartia).2 The second model focuses on the interaction and relationship between the participants, on the change of understanding involved in anagnōrisis and on the resultant change in the emotional relationship. The ideal in this case is when suffering takes place ἐν ταῖς φιλίαις and the best of the possible plots is where a terrible act is about to be done within such a relationship but disaster is averted by recognition of facts, especially identity. The models are not incompatible. It is simply that Aristotle fails to explain how he would reconcile the differences. My aim is not to achieve a synthesis for Aristotle which he chose not to make but to look at the second of his models. My questions are, how significant is philia for Aristotle’s understanding of tragedy? why does it play the role that it does? and why does Aristotle focus on one kind of philia? I have not translated the Greek term philia, because philia in the Poetics, and in Aristotle more generally, is too broad and too diverse to translate with the English ‘friendship’ or indeed any one English term. It is a settled relationship which resembles goodwill, eunoia, but differs in that it involves personal knowledge and (usually) affection and is always reciprocal;3 it is a relationship which can bind individuals as members of the same family or social, religious, or political body and collectives such as groups and even poleis.4 Though Aristotle speaks generically of philiai in Poetics, his examples are surprising. He explains what he means by ἐν ταῖς φιλίαις by adding ‘for instance when brother kills brother, or son father, or mother son, or son mother, or almost does so, or commits some other such act’. The relationship in these instances is not philia in the generic sense of friendship but something much narrower. The kind of philia at issue in these examples is the philia which Aristotle in the Nicomachean Ethics calls syngenikē philia: καὶ ἡ συγγενικὴ δὲ φαίνεται πολυειδὴς εἶναι, ἠρτῆσθαι δὲ πᾶσα ἐκ τῆς πατρικῆς· οἱ γονεῖς μὲν γὰρ στέργουσι τὰ τέκνα ὡς ἑαυτῶν τι ὄντα, τὰ δὲ τέκνα τοὺς γονεῖς ὡς ἀπ’ ἐκείνων τι ὄντα. Friendship between relatives seems to take a variety of forms, but all appear to derive from the affection between parent and child. For par-

2 The bibliography on hamartia is enormous but see in particular Bremer (1969). 3 Ward (1996) 158–160. 4 Hughes (2001) 168; Nehamas (2010) 216.

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ents love their children as part of themselves, while children love their parents because they derive their existence from them. (Arist. Eth. Nic. 1161b.16–19) Not unreasonably Else translates φιλίαις in Poet. 1453b as ‘family relationships’.5 This narrow emphasis persists throughout this section. Every one of Aristotle’s examples of the ways in which philia and plot interact is focused within the family and very specifically within the blood line—fathers, mothers, sons, brothers, sisters. This is not the family as constituted by marriage; it is much narrower than Aristotle’s minimum family unit as defined at Politics 1253b: Ἐπεὶ δὲ φανερὸν ἐξ ὧν μορίων ἡ πόλις συνέστηκεν, ἀναγκαῖον πρῶτον περὶ οἰκονομίας εἰπεῖν· πᾶσα γὰρ σύγκειται πόλις ἐξ οἰκιῶν. οἰκονομίας δὲ μέρη ἐξ ὧν πάλιν οἰκία συνέστηκεν· οἰκία δὲ τέλειος ἐκ δούλων καὶ ἐλευθέρων. ἐπεὶ δ’ ἐν τοῖς ἐλαχίστοις πρῶτον ἕκαστον ζητητέον, πρῶτα δὲ καὶ ἐλάχιστα μέρη οἰκίας δεσπότης καὶ δοῦλος, καὶ πόσις καὶ ἄλοχος, καὶ πατὴρ καὶ τέκνα, περὶ τριῶν ἂν τούτων σκεπτέον εἴη τί ἕκαστον καὶ ποῖον δεῖ εἶναι. And now that it is clear what parts make up the state, we must first of all discuss household management; for every state is composed of households. Household management falls into divisions which correspond to the parts of which the household in turn is made up; and the household in its fullest form is made up of slaves and free. Since the investigation of everything should begin with the smallest parts, and the principal and smallest parts of the household are master and slave, husband and wife, father and children, we should in each of these three relationships examine what it is and how it should function. (Arist. Pol. 1253b.1–8) In the passage in Poetics Aristotle shows no interest in Deianira killing Heracles or Clytemnestra killing Agamemnon. This is the family as created by procreation and united by blood. This narrow focus is not just an accident caused by a random selection of examples. Aristotle is aware elsewhere in Poetics that philia is a larger phenomenon than blood relationships. Elsewhere in the Poetics, he speaks of philia and echthra in more general terms as emotions and relationships of attachment and hostility without apparent restriction in terms of the formal nature of the relationships involved, including the beginning of chapter 14 itself, where he discusses the range of possible acts and relationships: ἀνάγκη δὴ ἢ φίλων εἶναι 5 Else (1957) 413.

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πρὸς ἀλλήλους τὰς τοιαύτας πράξεις ἢ ἐχθρῶν ἢ μηδετέρων (‘inevitably such acts must be between friends or enemies, or people who are neither’, Arist. Poet. 1253b.15–16). And earlier in chapter 11: ἀναγνώρισις δέ, ὥσπερ καὶ τοὔνομα σημαίνει, ἐξ ἀγνοίας εἰς γνῶσιν μεταβολή, ἢ εἰς φιλίαν ἢ εἰς ἔχθραν, τῶν πρὸς εὐτυχίαν ἢ δυστυχίαν ὡρισμένων. (‘recognition is, as the name indicates, a change from ignorance to knowledge, or friendship or enmity, on the part of those marked for good or bad fortune’, Arist. Poet. 11, 1452a.19–32). Again in his comments on the happy ending in comedy at the end of chapter 11: ἐκεῖ γὰρ οἳ ἂν ἔχθιστοι ὦσιν ἐν τῷ μύθῳ, οἷον Ὀρέστης καὶ Αἴγισθος, φίλοι γενόμενοι ἐπὶ τελευτῆς ἐξέρχονται, καὶ ἀποθνῄσκει οὐδεὶς ὑπ’ οὐδενός (‘There people who are worst enemies in the plot, such as Orestes and Aegisthus, exit as friends at the end, and nobody is killed by anyone else’, Arist. Poet. 13, 1453a.36– 39). In all these cases the relationship is clearly subjective and mutable, unlike the cases offered as examples of the ideal plot, which are objective (whether known by the parties or not) and permanent. There has been a lot of debate over time about what exactly Poetics is doing, whether it gives instructions or just analysis. In fact Poetics vacillates between description and prescription, between what tragedians do and what they should do. Probably Aristotle is not always clear in his own mind about the distinction. In both these chapters there is a strong element of prescription. But this is not an exclusive model. Aristotle is not saying that this is what one has to do in order to write tragedy or even that this is what most tragedians, or the best tragedians, do. This is not a distillation of tragic practice. In this respect Poetics behaves differently from the definitional sections of, e.g., Politics or Ethics, where Aristotle starts from received opinion, endoxa, legomena, in order to arrive at the essence of the phenomenon he is defining. He is not identifying tragedy as a whole but identifying the features which make the best tragedies. Poetics is like Rhetoric in this respect, in that it both defines and describes the medium and advises on its effective use. His model can be expanded by multiplying philiai. This has been done for instance by Belfiori in a monograph on violence among friends in tragedy. She would include xenia for instance in the philiai relevant to tragedy.6 There is nothing illogical in extending Aristotle’s account and asking how it might apply to other reciprocal relationships which impose responsibilities, especially since, as Belfiori observes, other of his elements for the best plot are explicitly offered as exemplars rather than exclusive components.7 But the fact 6 Belfiori (2000) ch. 1. In contrast, Belfiori (1992a) 366–370 focuses solely on the family relationship. 7 Belfiori (2000) 4, noting the definition of pathos at 1452b12–13 and 1453b.20–22.

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remains that it is these philiai in particular which he singles out for mention as the basis for the most effective plots. In this passage at least he shows no interest in the other such relationships which could form the base for tragedy or in any other kind of philia. So one has to ask: what makes these particular philiai in his view so rewarding for tragedian and audience? The best place to start is Aristotle’s emphasis on the emotional impact of the scenes of violence and on the need for the correct emotional effect. At the heart of the presentation of violence among kin is the basic element of paradox. There is a recurrent and much studied Greek antithesis between friend and foe and the correlative rights, duties, and expectations.8 There is an expectation which runs through Greek culture that a person will seek to help philoi and harm echthroi, an expectation so widely shared that the only explicit rejection to be found in the classical period is from Plato’s Socrates in the Crito.9 And there is no relationship closer than the tie of syngeneia. Philia is at the heart of relations within the family. Parents love their children, since parents see children as a part of themselves; children love parents as their origin (Eth. Nic. 1161b.15–29, 1162b.4–7), while siblings are bonded both by their relationship with their shared origin and by shared rearing (1162a9–15, 1161b30–32). And though this philia is experienced within social frameworks, it is not the product of those frameworks but is rooted in nature (Eth. Nic. 1155a.16–21). And with philia come obligations. Aristotle puts his finger on the ethical problems caused by breaches of these obligations in Nicomachean Ethics: ἕτερα δὴ καὶ τὰ ἄδικα πρὸς ἑκάστους τούτων, καὶ αὔξησιν λαμβάνει τῷ μᾶλλον πρὸς φίλους εἶναι, οἷον χρήματα ἀποστερῆσαι ἑταῖρον δεινότερον ἢ πολίτην, καὶ μὴ βοηθῆσαι ἀδελφῷ ἢ ὀθνείῳ, καὶ πατάξαι πατέρα ἢ ὁντινοῦν ἄλλον. αὔξεσθαι δὲ πέφυκεν ἅμα τῇ φιλίᾳ καὶ τὸ δίκαιον, ὡς ἐν τοῖς αὐτοῖς ὄντα καὶ ἐπ’ ἴσον διήκοντα. Injustice also is different in each of these relationships: wrong increases in seriousness with the closeness of the friend to whom it is done. For example, it is more terrible to cheat a comrade of money than a fellowcitizen, or to fail to help a brother than a stranger; or to strike one’s father than anybody else. And naturally the claims of justice also increase with the nearness of the friendship, since friendship and justice exist between the same persons and are co-extensive. (Arist. Eth. Nic. 1160a) 8 See especially Blundell (1989). 9 Pl. Cri. 49b–c.

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The shocking and paradoxical nature of misbehaviour against relatives is brought out by a motif in the orators when disputes arise among kin. Speakers in court expect to encounter prejudice from the judges against people who abuse kin and even against those who allow disputes among kin to get out of hand. And anyone prosecuting relatives needed to stress that they had no choice. This collective evaluation of discord between and misconduct toward kin finds expression in the recurrent phrase ἥκιστα ἐχρῆν, ‘those who least should have’: Εἰ μὲν μὴ μεγάλα ἦν τὰ διαφέροντα, ὦ ἄνδρες δικασταί, οὐκ ἄν ποτε εἰς ὑμᾶς εἰσελθεῖν τούτους εἴασα, νομίζων αἴσχιστον εἶναι πρὸς τοὺς οἰκείους διαφέρεσθαι, εἰδώς τε ὅτι οὐ μόνον οἱ ἀδικοῦντες χείρους ὑμῖν εἶναι δοκοῦσιν, ἀλλὰ καὶ οἵτινες ἂν ἔλαττον ὑπὸ τῶν προσηκόντων ἔχοντες ἀνέχεσθαι μὴ δύνωνται· ἐπειδὴ μέντοι, ὦ ἄνδρες δικασταί, πολλῶν χρημάτων ἀπεστέρηνται καὶ πολλὰ καὶ δεινὰ πεπονθότες ὑφ’ ὧν ἥκιστα ἐχρῆν, ἐπ’ ἐμὲ κηδεστὴν ὄντα κατέφυγον, ἀνάγκη μοι γεγένηται εἰπεῖν ὑπὲρ αὐτῶν. If the subject at issue were not of great importance, judges, I would never have allowed these people to bring the case before you. I consider it quite shameful to quarrel with one’s family, and I am aware that it is not only the guilty parties whose reputation suffers in your estimation but also those who cannot tolerate losing out to their relatives. However, judges, since the plaintiffs have been defrauded of large sums of money and have appealed to me as their in-law because they have suffered grave mistreatment at the hands of the people from whom they least should, I have felt compelled to speak on their behalf. (Lys. 32.1) Νέος μὲν καὶ ἄπειρος δικῶν ἔγωγε ἔτι, δεινῶς δὲ καὶ ἀπόρως ἔχει μοι περὶ τοῦ πράγματος, ὦ ἄνδρες, τοῦτο μὲν εἰ ἐπισκήψαντος τοῦ πατρὸς ἐπεξελθεῖν τοῖς αὑτοῦ φονεῦσι μὴ ἐπέξειμι, τοῦτο δὲ εἰ ἐπεξιόντι ἀναγκαίως ἔχει οἷς ἥκιστα ἐχρῆν ἐν διαφορᾷ καταστῆναι, ἀδελφοῖς ὁμοπατρίοις καὶ μητρὶ ἀδελφῶν. Young as I am and inexperienced still in lawsuits, I am in a terrible dilemma in this matter, gentlemen; I must either fail to proceed against his killers despite my father’s injunction or, if I do proceed, I must start a quarrel with those I least should, my paternal half-brothers and their mother. (Antiph. 1.1)10

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Cf. Antiph. 1.21. The motif and idiom appear in tragedy at Eur. Bacch. 26, I.A. 487 and at

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The point is that people look to kin for protection and support and it is a betrayal of a fundamental bond when people abandon, neglect, abuse or defraud relatives. The orators also agree with Aristotle in seeing pity as one of the effects created by such tales of abuse. The emotional impact is vividly described by Lysias in his account of the alleged abuse of his wards by Diogeiton in Lysias’ speech: τότε μὲν οὖν, ὦ ἄνδρες δικασταί, πολλῶν καὶ δεινῶν ὑπὸ τῆς γυναικὸς ῥηθέντων οὕτω διετέθημεν πάντες οἱ παρόντες ὑπὸ τῶν τούτῳ πεπραγμένων καὶ τῶν λόγων τῶν ἐκείνης, ὁρῶντες μὲν τοὺς παῖδας, οἷα ἦσαν πεπονθότες, ἀναμιμνῃσκόμενοι δὲ τοῦ ἀποθανόντος, ὡς ἀνάξιον τῆς οὐσίας τὸν ἐπίτροπον κατέλιπεν, ἐνθυμούμενοι δὲ ὡς χαλεπὸν ἐξευρεῖν ὅτῳ χρὴ περὶ τῶν ἑαυτοῦ πιστεῦσαι, ὥστε, ὦ ἄνδρες δικασταί, μηδένα τῶν παρόντων δύνασθαι φθέγξασθαι, ἀλλὰ καὶ δακρύοντας μὴ ἧττον τῶν πεπονθότων ἀπιόντας οἴχεσθαι σιωπῇ. At that point judges, having heard the woman’s long and dreadful tale, all of us who were there were so shocked by Diogeiton’s conduct and her speech, as we saw what the boys had suffered, and thought of the dead man and how unworthy was the guardian he left in charge of his estate, and reflected how difficult it is to find someone to trust with one’s property, that none of us present, judges, was able to speak; weeping every bit as bitterly as the victims, we went out in silence. (Lys. 32.18) The situations envisaged by Aristotle in his treatment of familial conflict in Poetics, and indeed the intra-familial conflicts, sins, and crimes enacted in tragedy, are infinitely more terrible than anything encountered in the orators, but the principle is the same. That difference in intensity gives the tragic plot type favoured by Aristotle a hyperbolic quality. In his desire for such extremes of suffering, actual or potential, or fear of suffering Aristotle shows a keen awareness of the way in which Greek poetry tends to use myths. Myth in Greek poetry regularly, if not invariably, has a didactic and exemplary function. Its distance in time (and sometimes in space), its ubiquity and familiarity makes it an ideal vehicle for argument. And the enormity of many of its events, whether murder, madness, incest or revenge, places much of its content at the extreme limit of human action. Both in and out of tragedy texts are often explicit that the mythic exempla they Hdt. 3.52.4; in Plato Crit. 54c (κακὰ ἐργασάμενος τούτους οὓς ἥκιστα ἕδει, σαυτόν τε καὶ πατρίδα καὶ ἡμᾶς, ‘harming those you least should, yourself, your native land and us’) of the wrong Socrates will inflict if he escapes from prison.

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choose are the most extreme examples of the argument they are supporting, from Homer onward. One such instance occurs, when Achilles argues that like everyone else he has to die: κῆρα δ’ ἐγὼ τότε δέξομαι ὁππότε κεν δὴ Ζεὺς ἐθέλῃ τελέσαι ἠδ’ ἀθάνατοι θεοὶ ἄλλοι. οὐδὲ γὰρ οὐδὲ βίη Ἡρακλῆος φύγε κῆρα, ὅς περ φίλτατος ἔσκε Διὶ Κρονίωνι ἄνακτι· ἀλλά ἑ μοῖρα δάμασσε καὶ ἀργαλέος χόλος Ἥρης. ὣς καὶ ἐγών, εἰ δή μοι ὁμοίη μοῖρα τέτυκται, κείσομ’ ἐπεί κε θάνω· My fate I shall receive whenever Zeus chooses to accomplish it, and the other immortal gods. For not even mighty Heracles escaped his fate, Who was most loved by lord Zeus, son of Cronus. But fate overcame him, and the harsh anger of Hera. So too I, if in truth the same fate is fixed for me, shall lie when I die. (Hom. Il. 18.115–121) In tragedy it is at its most explicit at the ending of the OT: Ὦ πάτρας Θήβης ἔνοικοι, λεύσσετ’, Οἰδίπους ὅδε, ὃς τὰ κλείν’ αἰνίγματ’ ᾔδει καὶ κράτιστος ἦν ἀνήρ, οὗ τίς οὐ ζήλῳ πολιτῶν ἦν τύχαις ἐπιβλέπων, εἰς ὅσον κλύδωνα δεινῆς συμφορᾶς ἐλήλυθεν, ὥστε θνητὸν ὄντ’ ἐκείνην τὴν τελευταίαν ἰδεῖν ἡμέραν ἐπισκοποῦντα μηδέν’ ὀλβίζειν, πρὶν ἂν τέρμα τοῦ βίου περάσῃ μηδὲν ἀλγεινὸν παθών. Inhabitants of our land of Thebes, see, here is Oedipus, who knew the famous riddle and was the greatest man what citizen did not look on him with envy for his fortune— see what a flood of grim misfortune he has come to. So any who is mortal must look to the final day and with that in view call no-one happy until he passes life’s finish-line without suffering any pain. (Soph. OT 1524–1530)11 11

The authenticity of the close of OT has been disputed; see in particular Finglass (2009),

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The desire for conflict in the closest of relationships shows a similar instinct. It seeks to exemplify behaviour and events at their most extreme in order to drive home the didactic lessons. The events produce the right emotional effect. For Aristotle emotion has a cognitive dimension, that is, it involves the faculty of reason.12 Emotions are based on judgements, about acts, contexts, people, values. It is not or not necessarily passion devoid of reason. And the pity and fear are part of the process whereby tragedy achieves its purpose as a mimetic and didactic work. Though Aristotle stresses the emotional effects of the plots he favours, his view of tragedy is of a medium that teaches. Its plots are paradeigmata, exempla, enactments which can offer lessons, not sermons or statements but informative patterns of behaviour and experience. The emotional force of the plots contributes to the rhetorical goal of persuasion. But the oratorical passages, though bland in comparison with the horrors of the tragic theatre, point to a danger in such plots. It is a danger shared with the other ideal plot type which Aristotle identifies, the central figure who suffers a reversal of fortune. The plot has to stir the right emotions. Events which breach the audience’s sense of what is right risk arousing disgust (to miaron) rather than the tragic emotions of pity and fear. For a flawless man to come to disaster is repellent (Poet. 1452b.34–36). This is not because such things do not happen in the real world but presumably because it goes against our sense of justice. For people knowingly to intend harm to close blood relatives is likewise unacceptable (Poet. 1453b.38–39). And this seems to be true irrespective of the final outcome. Worst is to threaten and then fail to commit, slightly better but still distasteful is to follow through on the intention knowingly. But the ideal is the potential destructive act against a close relative attempted or proposed in ignorance but never committed. Though Aristotle never succumbs to Plato’s rigid determinism in relation to the moral role of tragedy, here, in his desire to avoid audience reactions that impede the correct emotional effect, he comes closest to Plato’s desire to set boundaries around the tragic experience. The tragic poets are far less solicitous of their audience’s emotions. There is another aspect to Aristotle’s emphasis on a very specific kind of philia in the choice of plots. All associations of philia are a subset of the polis (Eth. Nic. 1160a, Pol. 1260b). And the oikos, which plays a vital role in the second of Aristotle’s favoured plots, is in the Politics a building block of the polis. And it is philia which bonds the polis together, as it does the oikos (Eth. Nic.

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(2018) 625ff.; Sommerstein (2011); Kovacs (2014). The issue is not germane to my discussion, since regardless of the identity of the author, the passage captures the extreme trajectory between success and destruction which characterizes Oedipus’ life. See, e.g., Fortenbaugh (2003); Belfiori (1992b) ch. 6; Kristjansson (2007) 18ff.

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1155a.22–26). But more than this, philia groups resemble each other for Aristotle (Eth. Nic. 1160b). There is a natural similarity between different social organizations.13 So what happens in relation to these interpersonal relations can be replicated in larger contexts and larger groups including the polis. The key to this is Aristotle’s view of the nature of poetic mimēsis and particularly the relationship between internally coherent structure and didaxis. Where historiography for Aristotle is a sequence of actual events, poetry deals with a tighter structure based on internal probability designed to reveal not specific events but general trends in human life, οἷα ἂν γένοιτο, ‘what might happen’ (Poet. 1451b.5). It deals with generalities, τὰ καθόλου. Aristotle misunderstands Greek historiography.14 But what matters here is not his inadequate appreciation of the historian’s art but his notion of poetic mimēsis, which is a process that filters human experience and allows its audience to focus on essentials. Because the family is a small unit, the questions of duties, rights, expectations, and responsibilities are more straightforward and more immediately visible than in larger and more complex structures. So the smaller philia group acts as a keyhole through which larger issues and larger contexts can be viewed. This potential of the smaller group to mirror the larger world was well understood by his younger contemporary Menander, who uses family relationships to examine the way people live together in society.15 Philia thus becomes a microcosm which helps us to understand the world in which we live.

Bibliography Belfiori, E.S. (1992a). Aristotle and Iphigenia. In: A.O. Rorty, ed., Essays on Aristotle’s Poetics, Princeton, pp. 359–377.

13 14

15

See on this especially Nagle (2006). One only has to think of Thuc. 1.22.4: καὶ ἐς μὲν ἀκρόασιν ἴσως τὸ μὴ μυθῶδες αὐτῶν ἀτερπέστερον φανεῖται· ὅσοι δὲ βουλήσονται τῶν τε γενομένων τὸ σαφὲς σκοπεῖν καὶ τῶν μελλόντων ποτὲ αὖθις κατὰ τὸ ἀνθρώπινον τοιούτων καὶ παραπλησίων ἔσεσθαι, ὠφέλιμα κρίνειν αὐτὰ ἀρκούντως ἕξει. κτῆμά τε ἐς αἰεὶ μᾶλλον ἢ ἀγώνισμα ἐς τὸ παραχρῆμα ἀκούειν ξύγκειται. ‘And for a live audience perhaps the absence of the fantastic in the narrative will seem less enjoyable. But if is judged useful by all who wish to obtain a clear view of events which occurred in the past and will, in the nature of human experience, occur again at some point in the same or similar form, that will suffice. It has been composed as a lasting possession rather than a competitive piece for immediate hearing’. This passage claims the representation of ‘exceptionally intelligible patterns of experience through the medium of particulars’ which Halliwell (2002) 199 identifies as the essence of Aristotelian mimēsis. Cf. Kiritsi (2013) 99–100; Carey (2015) 23–25.

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Belfiori, E.S. (1992b). Tragic Pleasures: Aristotle on Plot and Emotion. Princeton. Belfiori, E.S. (2000). Murder among Friends: Violation of Philia in Greek Tragedy. New York/Oxford. Blundell, M.W. (1989). Helping Friends and Harming Enemies: A Study in Sophocles and Greek Ethics. Cambridge. Bremer, J.M. (1969). Hamartia: Tragic Error in the Poetics of Aristotle and in Greek Tragedy. Amsterdam. Carey, C. (2015). Menander on the Poetics of Comedy. In: R. Green and M. Edwards, eds., Images and Texts: Papers in Honour of Professor Eric Handley CBE FBA, London, pp. 13–25. Else, G.F. (1957). Aristotle’s Poetics: The Argument. Baltimore. Finglass, P. (2009). The Ending of Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex. Philologus 153, pp. 42–62. Finglass, P., ed. (2018). Sophocles, Oedipus the King. Cambridge. Fortenbaugh, W.W. (2003). Aristotle on Emotion. 2nd edn. with a new epilogue. London. Halliwell, S. (2002). The Aesthetics of Mimesis: Ancient Texts and Modern Problems. Princeton. Hughes, G.J. (2001). Aristotle on Ethics. London. Kiritsi, S. (2013), Erôs in Menander: Three Studies in Male Character. In: E. Sanders, ed., Erô s and the Polis: Love in Context, BICS Suppl. 119. London, pp. 85–100. Kovacs, D. (2014). The End of Sophocles’ Oedipus Tyrannus: The Sceptical Case Restated. JHS 134, pp. 56–65. Kristjansson, K. (2007). Aristotle, Emotions and Education. Aldershot. Nagle, D.B. (2006). The Household as the Foundation of Aristotle’s Polis. Cambridge. Nehamas, A. (2010). Aristotelian Philia, Modern Friendship? OSAPh 39, pp. 213–247. Sommerstein, A.H. (2011). Once More the End of Sophocles’ Oedipus Tyrannus. JHS 13, pp. 85–93. Ward, J. (1996). Aristotle on Philia: The Beginning of a Feminist Ideal of Friendship? In: J. Ward, ed., Feminism and Ancient Philosophy, New York, pp. 155–171.

chapter 3

Absent Friends: Why Is Friendship Less Important in Tragedy Than in the Iliad? G.O. Hutchinson

One could think that, since friendship was fundamental to ancient life, it must be fundamental to ancient literature. This does not appear to be straightforwardly so; friendship provides a striking counter-instance to the proposition that if x was fundamental in a given society, x must be fundamental to the artistic productions of that society. The nature of our particular x is much disputed. Claims that there is an element of affection in ancient friendship seem to fit ancient literature well, however that literature related to reality; they will be accepted here, with some incidental supporting arguments. We will look at relationships which involve sustained but non-amorous affection between persons who are not close kin, and especially, since masculine cases are most conspicuous in hexameter narrative and tragedy, between adult males who are not, say, brothers or father and son. Yet the main aim is not to argue about the nature of friendship, but to consider how much it occurs in two sorts of work.1 A table is not a fun way to start, and may suggest an exactitude that is not claimed; the point is merely to give a visual idea of how masses are distributed. In Table 1 (see p. 57 below), each extant Greek tragedy is given a * if, in my opinion, the relationship in question forms a major concern there, a (*) if, in my opinion, it has some thematic importance. The opinions of others may differ in particular cases. Indeed, I am slightly stretching my own opinions in awarding the Orestes an unbracketed star for friendship, and in bracketing the Ajax’s star for parenthood. But it seems unlikely that opinions will be so different as to remove the gap in representation between the three types of relationship.

1 The delimitation is only a starting-point, and does not, for example, give a place to services conferred and received. There is some advantage in beginning from categories of people rather than from words like φιλία, which confuse the asking of precisely the questions that concern us. For a helpful account of φιλία, etc. see Schein (1988) 182–190. On affection see Konstan (1996); Peachin (2001b) 7–8; Ricci (2001) 42–43; a laudable desire not to assume the similarity of ancient and modern has often taken scholars to excess.

© G.O. Hutchinson, 2023 | doi:10.1163/9789004548671_005

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Friendship Marriage Parenthood A. Pers. A. Sept. A. Suppl. A. Ag. A. Ch. A. Eum. [A.] PV S. Trach. S. Aj. S. Ant. S. OT S. El. S. Phil. S. OC E. Alc. E. Med. E. Hcld. E. Hipp. E. Andr. E. Hec. E. Suppl. E. El. E. HF E. Tro. E. IT E. Ion Hel. E. Phoen. E. Or. E. Bacch. E. IA [E.] Rhes.

(*) (*)

* (*) *

(*)

* *

*

* * (*) * (*) * (*) * * (*) (*) * * * * (*) * * * * * * * (*) (*) *

* * * * * * (*) * (*) * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * (*) * * * * *

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On this analysis, parenthood is a major concern of the great bulk of extant tragedies (29 out of 32, 90.63%). In the remaining three, it is of some thematic importance (so 100% for both the categories together). In two of those three, friendship and marriage are not major concerns either: the PV and even Ajax show isolation. Marriage is a major concern in 18 tragedies (56.25%), of some thematic importance in 8 (81.25% for both categories). Friendship is a major concern in 5 (15.63%), of some thematic importance in 4 (28.13% for both categories). Friendship seems much less central and significant, from the quantitative perspective of the table, than parenthood or marriage. What of plays not fully extant? The confirmation is almost embarrassingly plain; no doubt it would be somewhat modified if we had the plays complete, but the general picture is unmistakable. Only one lost play clearly had friendship as a major theme, Critias’ (?) Pirithous (see below). Aeschylus’ Myrmidons may well have; fr. 132b Radt shows a conversation with Phoenix. The Prometheus Lyomenos would be another promising possibility, though the fragments do not directly show this. There is the odd one-liner on φίλοι: so Agathon TrGF 39 F 22 ἀδικεῖν [S Stobaei: ἀδικεῖ M: δοκεῖν L] νομίζων ὄψιν αἰδοῦμαι φίλων ‘thinking I do wrong, I am ashamed at the sight of my friends/dear ones’ (cf. Eur. fr. 187.5 Kannicht?). Parenthood looks likely to have been important in most tragedies we know anything about; there are many fragments to show it: e.g., Aesch. fr. 99 Radt (Carians), 154a (Niobe), Soph. fr. 210, esp. 70–80 (Eurypylus), 557 (Scyrians), Eur. frr. 46, 62d col. ii Kannicht (Alexandros), 223.10–14 (Antiope), 360, 362, 370.63–89 (Erechtheus), 752d, 757.831–843 (cf. 752f.1–14), 864– 867, 759a col. xxviii (Hypsipyle), fr. 771.45–62, 779, 781.284–288 (Phaethon, with ii), Neophr. fr. 2 Snell (Medea). A good many relate to marriage too: so P.Oxy. lxxxii 5292 (Soph. Tereus (including fr. 583 Radt)), Eur. fr. 370.13–44b, 90–94 (Erechtheus), 472e (Cretans), 661 (Stheneboea), 771.87–118, 781.217–218, 227–250, 260 (Phaethon).2 Parenthood and marriage are clearly more central than friendship in the Odyssey. Odysseus’ relationship with his ἑταῖροι is hardly invested with great warmth. In the Iliad, the position is reversed. Parenthood and marriage are important, but neither is so central as friendship. A few Iliadic passages may take us further into the treatment of friendship than mere numbers.3

2 For the fragments of the Alexandros (6, 18b col. ii Karamanou) see Karamanou (2017) 166– 173, esp. 166–168, 246, 249–254. On P.Oxy. lxxxii 5292 col. ii see Finglass (2016). For Agathon fr. 22, cf., e.g., Soph. OT 516–517, 551–512, Eur. fr. 275.4 with Philo’s reading; ‘being accustomed to do wrong’ sounds a bit strange in the first person. (Translations throughout are my own attempts.) 3 φίλους … ἑταίρους or the like do appear 6 times in the Odyssey, all but once in Odysseus’ mouth;

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οὐδ’ ἔλαθ’ Ἀτρέος υἱόν, ἀρηΐφιλον Μενέλαον, Πάτροκλος Τρώεσσι δαμεὶς ἐν δηϊοτῆτι. βῆ δὲ διὰ προμάχων κεκορυθμένος αἴθοπι χαλκῶι, ἀμφὶ δ’ ἄρ’ αὐτῶι βαῖν’, ὥς τις περὶ πόρτακι μήτηρ πρωτοτόκος, κινυρή, οὐ πρὶν εἰδυῖα τόκοιο· ὣς περὶ Πατρόκλωι βαῖνε ξανθὸς Μενέλαος. (17.1–6) The son of Atreus, Menelaus dear to Ares, did not fail to see that Patroclus had been slain by the Trojans in battle. He went armed in bright bronze through the front ranks of fighters. He stood over Patroclus as a mother stands over her female calf; the mother has given birth for the first time, and calls plaintively—she knew nothing of childbirth before. That was how fair-haired Menelaus stood over Patroclus.

The whole battle over Patroclus’ body shows the feeling of the Greek leaders for their friend; it is not just Achilles. The narrative design leads into his climactic reaction, characteristically more extreme than theirs and more elaborated by the poem. Menelaus’ feeling of friendship is expressed through a different type of affection, a mother’s for her first-born child. ‘Mother’ is used rather than ‘cow’; so too Lucretius in a heart-rending simile on the cow whose calf is sacrificed (2.355–365). The cow provides a particularly graphic version of this sort of love, which provides an extreme to raise friendship. The context of new birth potently contrasts with that of death; it is not Patroclus’ body that Menelaus is standing over but Patroclus. The simile at the beginning of this narrative sequence (Book 17) could even be seen as a tragic counterpart to the simile at the beginning of the previous sequence, where Achilles has humorously depicted Patroclus as the little girl and himself as the mother (16.7–11, cf. 2 παρίστατο).4

the combination comes 24 times in the Iliad, including one in Book 10 and excluding 9.630 φιλότητος ἑταίρων; note the clearly emotional superlatives Il. 13.249 (to Meriones), 19.315 (to Patroclus) φίλταθ᾽ ἑταίρων, 17.411, 655 ὅττι ῥά οἱ πολὺ φίλτατος ὤλεθ᾽ ἑταῖρος (of Patroclus), Od. 24.517 (to Laertes) πάντων πολὺ φίλταθ᾽ ἑταίρων. Spahn 2006 offers an excellent treatment of the terminology in this area (within a rather constricted framework); see also Konstan (1996) 24–42 (31–33 on affection). On friendship in battle see van Wees (1996) 16–21. 4 Perhaps there is a rejoinder at 16.33–35 (cf. Σ 16.7 [T]): if Achilles as mother makes Patroclus seem too emotional, the sea and rocks as mother make Achilles seem too unemotional (33– 35). On the cow, cf. Kucharek (2012) 251 for the Egyptian Opening of the Mouth; awareness of the cow’s feeling for her calf is important to the ritual, and can be shown in art. On κινυρή, cf. Leumann 1950, 241–243; maybe the sound is presented to fit the narrative. On the relationship of Menelaus and others to Patroclus, note 17.91–93: Menelaus fears he will be criticized

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ἀλλὰ τίη μοι ταῦτα φίλος διελέξατο θυμός; κεῖται πὰρ νήεσσι νέκυς ἄκλαυτος ἄθαπτος Πάτροκλος· τοῦ δ’ οὐκ ἐπιλήσομαι, ὄφρ’ ἂν ἔγωγε ζωοῖσιν μετέω καί μοι φίλα γούνατ’ ὀρώρηι. εἰ δὲ θανόντων περ καταλήθοντ’ εἰν Ἀΐδαο 390 αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ καὶ κεῖθι φίλου μεμνήσομ’ ἑταίρου. (Il. 22.385–390) 385

But why does my heart speak these thoughts to me? By the ships lies Patroclus, an unmourned, unburied corpse. I will never forget him while I am among the living and my knees can move. Even if in Hades they forget the dead, I will remember my dear comrade there too.5 Achilles’ passionate dedication to his friend takes extreme form as it goes beyond the bounds of life to the reduced consciousness of Hades. Such a lament for a friend is hard to imagine in tragedy; it is easily paralleled and outdone in laments there for a wife, brother, child. Achilles’ lament in Aeschylus’ Myrmidons (frr. 135–136 Radt) introduces an overtly erotic element quite absent from Homer’s words (to show that it is nonetheless there in the poem would be to show that Achilles’ extremity could have no other explanation). Achilles’ utterance can be contrasted with Priam’s still stronger utterance in the next speech: Achilles will remember Patroclus even in Hades, Priam will be borne directly to Hades by his grief for Hector (22.425–426).6 αὐτίκα τεθναίην, ἐπεὶ οὐκ ἄρ’ ἔμελλον ἑταίρωι κτεινομένωι ἐπαμῦναι· … οὐδέ τι Πατρόκλωι γενόμην φάος οὐδ’ ἑτάροισιν τοῖς ἄλλοις, οἳ δὴ πολέες δάμεν Ἕκτορι δίωι, ἀλλ’ ἧμαι παρὰ νηυσὶν ἐτώσιον ἄχθος ἀρούρης. (18.98–99, 102–104) Let me die at once, as I was not to defend my comrade while he was being killed … . I was no light of deliverance to Patroclus or my other comrades, because Patroclus κεῖται ἐμῆς ἕνεκ’ ἐνθάδε τιμῆς; at 669–672 he says people should remember Patroclus’ gentleness, to all (cf. Σ 1.307b [T]). 5 For ἄκλαυτος ἄθαπτος going with νέκυς, cf. Od. 11.53–54 σῶμα … καταλείπομεν … ἄκλαυτον καὶ ἄθαπτον ‘we left his body … unmourned and unburied’; Abbenes 1997, 316.15–29. For the position of περ in 389, cf. Il. 20.100 εἰ δὲ θεός περ, where περ does not highlight θεός; De Jong (2012) 160. 6 De Jong (2012) 159–160, keeps the question of a sexual element open; less so Konstan (1996) 37–42. Note the emphatic observation of difference at Xen. Symp. 8.31 (in a more complicated context).

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who fell in large numbers to godlike Hector. Instead I am sitting by the ships as a useless weight on the earth. Achilles speaks of his failure to help first Patroclus, but then Patroclus and his other friends. The distinctive γενόμην φάος with dative resembles φάος ἦλθεν with dative used 248 lines earlier of one Greek who dies after helping another, at Hector’s hands (17.615, ‘came as a light’). Achilles’ wish to die here is not a simple cry of despair, but a vehement acceptance of the death that will be brought to him by the act of vengeance he intends.7 χαίρετον· ἦ φίλοι ἄνδρες ἱκάνετον—ἦ τι μάλα χρεώ— οἵ μοι σκυζομένωι περ Ἀχαιῶν φίλτατοί ἐστον …. οἳ γὰρ φίλτατοι ἄνδρες ἐμῶι ὑπέασι μελάθρωι. …. αὐτὰρ Ἀχιλλεύς ἄγριον ἐν στήθεσσι θέτο μεγαλήτορα θυμόν, 630 σχέτλιος, οὐδὲ μετατρέπεται φιλότητος ἑταίρων τῆς ἧι μιν παρὰ νηυσὶν ἐτίομεν ἔξοχον ἄλλων, νηλής. καὶ μέν τίς τε κασιγνήτοιο φόνοιο ποινὴν ἢ οὗ παιδὸς ἐδέξατο τεθνηῶτος … μέμαμεν δέ τοι ἔξοχον ἄλλων κήδιστοί τ᾽ ἔμεναι καὶ φίλτατοι, ὅσσοι Ἀχαιοί. (9.197–198, 201–203, 628–633, 641–642) ‘Greetings to you both. You are dear men that have arrived, urgently, it is clear; angry though I am, you are the dearest of the Achaeans to me …. These are the dearest men who are here beneath my roof.’ …. ‘Achilles has made his mighty heart in his breast brutal; he is cruel, and cares nothing for his comrades’ friendship. With it we honoured him by the ships more than anyone else. He has no pity. People accept compensation for the murder of a brother or the death of their own son …. We want to be the closest and dearest to you, out of all the Achaeans.’ Achilles greets his two or three visitors with emphasis on their dearness to him. Ajax takes this up. He presents their friendship for Achilles not just as affec7 Cf. Coray (2016) 54; Rutherford (2018) 116, 117; Konstan (2018) 133. At 17.608–618, van Wees (1996) 16 ‘self-sacrifice’ is a little over-stated; but Coeranus is evidently not Idomeneus’ charioteer (note 609, 611, 612; cf. Greenhalgh [1982] 84–85; Edwards [1991] 121–122, against Stagakis [1967]).

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tion but as honour. The death of a brother or son is a weightier event than the removal of a concubine; somewhere in this calculus of relationships belongs the love Achilles owes his friends. Ἕκτορα δ᾽ αἰνὸν ἄχος πύκασε φρένας ἡνιόχοιο· τὸν μὲν ἔπειτ᾽ εἴασε, καὶ ἀχνύμενός περ ἑταίρου, κεῖσθαι, ὃ δ᾽ ἡνίοχον μέθεπε θρασύν. (8.124–126) Terrible grief for his charioteer overshadowed Hector’s mind. Then he left the man where he was, though he was grieved for his companion, and went to find another bold charioteer. The first two lines are repeated at 316–317: the repetition must give the narrative structure weight, as Hector twice loses a charioteer, his friend. A strong line depicts his grief; no stronger is 4.169, on the grief Agamemnon says he will suffer if his brother dies, also with the genitive, ἀλλά μοι αἰνὸν ἄχος σέθεν ἔσσεται, ‘I will feel terrible grief for you’. Nonetheless, Hector’s present campaign is more important to him: he leaves the body and seeks another charioteer. The second time, the new charioteer is Cebriones, his brother (318: ἀδελφεόν). Hector will fight for his body when he dies in Book 16 (he will also fight for Euphorbus’ body when Ἕκτορα δ᾽ αἰνὸν ἄχος πύκασε φρένας is repeated for the last time, at 17.83).8 Friendship is central to the shape of the plot: Achilles’ withdrawal ignores friendship, his avenging of Patroclus affirms it (the Aethiopis was not so shaped). Friendship invests minor as well as major levels of narrative. It is woven into the texture of the poem; the men feel for the other leaders beside whom they fight. The relationship is not an exclusive one between two individuals, as Hector’s two charioteers neatly make obvious. It reaches across the Greek army, though in differentiated form: Achilles loves Patroclus even more than Menelaus does, Achilles loves Patroclus even more than he does Ajax and Odysseus, Achilles loves them, and they love him, more than he or they love the rest of the Achaeans—but ‘the other companions’ slain in large numbers do not stand in a different species of relationship from Achilles’ companionship with Patroclus. The poem creates a network of feeling among each of its two armies, especially the Greek. Athenian tragedy often presents the Trojan war and the Greek army, but creates no such thing. 8

πύκασε φρένας is found only in these three places. For the genitive with ἄχος, cf. Voigt (1978) 1775.43–52; West/Latacz (2017) 11 ‘Weh um dich’. On the repetition of the lines, cf. Kelly (2007) 160; Hutchinson (2017).

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What is happening? The first step is to consider the mythological tradition which underlies both hexameter narrative and tragedy. Here is the Epicurean Torquatus in De Finibus: quod quam magnum sit fictae ueterum fabulae declarant, in quibus tam multis tamque uariis ab ultima antiquitate repetitis tria uix amicorum paria reperiuntur, ut ad Orestem peruenias profectus a Theseo. at uero Epicurus una in domo, et ea quidem angusta, quam magnos quantaque amoris conspiratione consentientis tenuit amicorum greges! quod fit etiam nunc ab Epicureis. (1.65) The myths of men of old reveal the great significance of Epicurus showing that friendship is supreme. In those myths, many and varied as they are, and going back to remotest antiquity, barely three pairs of friends are to be found. Set off from Theseus and you will arrive at Orestes. But in one small house what large bands of friends did Epicurus keep, joined in such harmony of affection! The Epicureans do this even now. The story of Pirithous goes back to the archaic period ([Hesiod], Πειρίθου Κατάβασις, Minyas: Paus. 9.31.5, 10.28.2, Hes. fr. 280 Merkelbach-West, 216 Most = Minyas fr. 7 West). It is at least uncertain whether Orestes and Pylades were among the Taurians before Euripides.9 The paucity of stories centring on friendship was evidently conspicuous. Mythology appears in general to concern itself with the pre-eminent man or household in each city. Special circumstances are needed to bring together men who are not brothers. In the Iliad, a joint expedition and a father’s exile explain Diomedes’ and Sthenelus’ friendship (cf. 2.559–564, 4.377, 399, 406– 407, Alcmeonis fr. 4 West). Exile explains the friendship of Achilles and Patroclus (Il. 23.83–90); so too, not in Homer, that of Orestes and Pylades (cf. Nostoi Arg. 5 West). Evidently such rapprochements are not excluded, in the mobile world of mythical men. Menelaus imagines sacking a city that he owns, and bringing Odysseus and all his people to live near him; they would not have been parted until death (Od. 4.169–180). Simple travel can join Telemachus and Pisistratus.10 9

10

Cf. Parker (2016) xxviii–xxix. Iphigenia there: Cypr. Arg. 8, etc. On the three standard pairs, including Achilles and Patroclus, see Madvig (1876) 123; Housman (1937) 64; Powell (1990) 85. Note too, though, Hyg. Fab. 257, who gets to six mythical pairs, and Xen. Symp. 8.31, who gives the three, but adds ἄλλοι … πολλοὶ τῶν ἡμιθέων, without naming names … Sarpedon and Glaucus are not brothers, but they are cousins (6.196–206); they have the same τέμενος in Lycia (Il. 2.876–877, 6.191–195, 12.310–314)—a distant region for the poem.

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The Trojan and Theban Wars and the Argonauts’ voyage bring considerable numbers of men from different cities together. But it all depends on the poem how much is made of this for relationships. In Apollonius’ version of the Argonauts, friendship is certainly explored (e.g., 2.833–839, 714–719), but less momentously than in the Iliad. There is no great sign that friendship was a subject of much interest in the Trojan or Theban cyclic poems (perhaps Achilles and Antilochus, Aethiop. Arg. 2, cf. Od. 24.78–79). One could contrast Roland and Oliver’s interesting friendship: so in the Chanson de Roland Oxford Bod. MS Digby 23b 1099–1108, 1170–1174, 1360–1377, 1456, 1691–1737, 1975–2030, in Konrad, Rolandslied 3864–3875, 5995–6031, 6425–6444, 6462–6520, 6737–6743 (the set-up is quite different with Gilgamesh and Enkidu).11 As for the Iliad, choosing the Trojan War was only a start. The emotion underlying friendship emerges most powerfully when a friend dies; but few major Greeks die in the Trojan War (so Protesilaus, Antilochus, Achilles). Mostly, they win, and then undergo their νόστοι. Patroclus’ death is made central; he seems to be a pre-existing character (first appearance 1.307: Μενοιτιάδηι). Conflicts of feeling test friendship most acutely when the friends are in danger; a sense of danger needs to be created in this poem, despite the scarcity of major deaths. The poet of the Iliad has chosen his plot, and designed his poem, so as to put friendships between men under the microscope, and to generate strong poetry on the feelings of men who fight together. The poetry draws on relationships like parenthood which are more obviously the focus of extreme passion, to exalt the friendship but also to make comparisons. The whole plan is sustained by extraordinary characterization, which can make such a number of warrior males vividly and interestingly different; the significance of difference will be seen presently.12 The strategy of the Iliad looks notable. What can be said about tragedy? Here we are looking, not at one work but at a multitude, the remains of a whole genre. From some points of view the situation in tragedy appears remarkable, from some not. To take the unremarkable first: friendship is not a tremendous theme in ancient literature generally. Theognis presents a world of treacherous friends, in the framework of an amorous relationship. Plato’s Lysis

11

12

For a recent discussion of the relation between Gilgamesh and the Iliad, see Rutherford (2018) 231–236. In any event, Gilgamesh should raise questions about whether Achilles’ and Patroclus’ relationship reflects a new social phenomenon; cf. Spahn (2006) 212 ‘dieses neuen Trends’, ‘eine neuartige Emotionalität’. Accessible edition of Konrad’s poem: Kartschoke (1993). On the kinship of Achilles and Patroclus, see Hainsworth (1993) 289; Fowler (2000–2013) ii.537–539. On Patroclus’ first appearance, cf., e.g., Pulleyn (2000) 206.

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treats friendship with ingenious abstraction; Aristotle and Cicero write about it at length (though Aristotle’s φιλία is more extensive), but are more interested in motivations and conflicts than in what friendship is like. The emotion that drives amorous love receives massive attention from ancient poetry; what drives friendship is much more rarely articulated there. The pleasures of friendship, male and female, appear fleetingly, say, in Callimachus’Epigrams, the joys of reunion are seen briefly in Catullus and Horace; but poets do not seem to investigate the emotions of friendship all that searchingly. This may have to do with friendship as well as ancient literature.13 Yet, feelings of quiet friendship apart, might not conflict offer dramatic potential? A non-classical play that comes to mind at once is Otway’s Venice Preserv’d, or A Plot Discover’d (1682), with its clash between conjugal love and friendship. So iv.1.76 (Jaffeir) ‘Must I betray my friends?’ … 79 (Belvidera) ‘Hast thou a friend more dear than Belvedira?’ At v.1.94–105, Belvedira describes how her husband was like a raging lion; he held a dagger to her, in a perversion of an embrace, and ‘cried out, my friends, | Where are my friends? swore, wept, rag’d, threaten’d, lov’d, | For he yet lov’d’ (103–105). Drama and narration along these lines is not readily imagined in Athenian tragedy, keen as it is on conflict.14 That brings us to a striking aspect of the situation. Friendship by the fifth century has found among the affluent the form of the symposium. The symposium as an event between friends is endlessly depicted on red-figure symposiastic pottery. This culture was far from alien to the men who wrote tragedies. One of them, Ion, describes a meeting with another, Sophocles (FGrH 392 F 6, fr. 8 von Blumenthal). Friendship can still cross cities: Sophocles’ friend is from Chios, where the symposium happens. The conversation concerns itself with poetry, art, and especially love: Sophocles’ treatment of the boy pouring wine is supposed to be characteristic of him in particular, but amorous interests abound in the symposia of red-figure vases and elsewhere (though most of the

13

14

On Theognis, cf. Hutchinson (2016) 251–252. The Lysis has received particular attention recently: cf. Peters (2001); Gale (2005); Penner/Rowe (2005). For Aristotle, cf., e.g., Price (1990); Utz (2003). Modern philosophical discussion of friendship very much grows out of the ancient, as in Derrida (1994). Except for philosophy, much more scholarly interest is shown for friendship in Roman culture and literature. Cf. Williams (2012); and e.g., Suerbaum (1995); Raccanelli (1998); Citroni Marchetti (2000); Peachin (2001) (mostly Roman); Winterling (2008); Griffin (2018b), (2018c). But see, e.g., Herman (1987). Greek and Roman: Fraisse (1974); Fürst (1996); Konstan (1996), (2018) e.g., 33–59. So conflict for Haemon between erotic and filial love. Venice Preserv’d reflects the turbulence of contemporary politics; the prologue also plays on a conspiracy Otway thinks unreal (the Popish Plot). More jocular conflict between friendship and marriage in Otway’s Friendship in Fashion (1678), e.g., ii.56–61 Ghosh.

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initial participants in Plato’s symposium are each other’s friends rather than lovers, they decide to praise love rather than discuss friendship). The culture of friendship at the top end of society takes a twist near the end of the century, when conspiracy is fostered. Conspiracy depends on ἑταιρεῖαι (cf., e.g., Thuc. 3.82.4 (ἀνδρεία φιλέταιρος—note the element of affection), 5, 6 (τὸ ξυγγενὲς τοῦ ἑταιρικοῦ ἀλλοτριώτερον ἐγένετο), 8.48.3, 4, 65.2, 100.3, Lys. 12.55). Fidelity and betrayal are important issues (cf., e.g., Thuc. 8.66.4 γνώριμον ἄπιστον, a paradox). It seems intriguing that tragedy should so much stick to mythical worlds. How does tragedy compare here with comedy, which stands much closer to the contemporary environment? The leading figures in comedies are not normally from the social level of symposiastic culture, though it is evoked in the last part of the Wasps. We do find the female equivalent of male conspiracies, in a play of early 411 (the general idea of such things may already have been in the wind), and in a play eleven years or so after the restoration of 403/402. In Lysistrata, the women frequently express affection for each other (e.g., 78–79 (to the Spartan Lampito), 145, 200, 780); it is important that they should immediately all be ἀλλήλων φίλαι ‘each other’s friends’ after the oath (239, cf. 711 ταῖς σαυτῆς φίλαις ‘your friends’). In the Ecclesiazusae, the women express affection and admiration for their new leader (37, 54, 124, 241–247). Further from conspiracy is Peisetaerus, dear to his new followers (Birds 627–628), and, if his name is right, good at persuading ἑταῖρος or ἑταῖροι. He leads Euelpides, to Euelpides’ dismay (339–341) or delight (362–363: an excellent general). Their friendship is seen in action, with little exploration of feelings or significant conflict: a bit like Orestes and Pylades without the reflection and noble choices. Similarly prosaic relationships are seen between Chremes and Blepyrus in Ecclesiazusae, Chremylus and Blepsidemus in Plutus, and some pairs of slaves. Euripides’ κηδεστής shows him remarkable dedication (Thesm. 209–213): they are related, but not so closely as to escape our criteria for friendship. So in comedy the possible intersection of friendship and politics is reflected; the social life of the rich is not much reflected. Relationships between males of the same age and status make some appearance, but are not dramatically the most exciting—a point we shall return to.15 A little filters through from the contemporary world into tragedy. In Euripides’ Orestes (408bce), Orestes exclaims to Pylades, who has proposed killing Helen:

15

The κηδεστής: cf. Austin and Olson (2004) 76–77. For party culture among the wealthy in Old Comedy, cf., e.g., Eup. fr. 172 PCG, with Napolitano (2012) 37–42, 136–150.

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Ορ. φεῦ· οὐκ ἔστιν οὐδὲν κρεῖσσον ἢ φίλος σαφής, οὐ πλοῦτος, οὐ τυραννίς· ἀλόγιστον δέ τοι τὸ πλῆθος ἀντάλλαγμα γενναίου φίλου. σὺ γὰρ τά τ᾽ εἰς Αἴγισθον ἐξηῦρες κακά καὶ πλησίον παρῆσθα κινδύνων ἐμοί, 1160 νῦν τ᾽ αὖ δίδως μοι πολεμίων τιμωρίαν κοὐκ ἐκποδὼν εἶ. παύσομαί σ’ αἰνῶν, ἐπεί βάρος τι κἀν τῶιδ᾽ ἐστίν, αἰνεῖσθαι λίαν. (1155–1162) 1155

Oh, there is nothing better than a true friend, not wealth, not tyranny; the masses would not be an exchange worth reckoning for a noble friend. You, Pylades, thought up what I inflicted on Aegisthus, and stood by me, close to my danger; now again you enable me to take vengeance on my foes, and do not keep away. I will stop praising you, though, since there is something irksome even about being praised too much. The lyrical praise of friendship includes affectionate praise of a particular person, to whom σύ turns (1158); the last sentence makes this clear (1161–1162). This is not, then, mere acclaim of a useful invention. Nonetheless, the first sentence (1155–1157) has political point (τυραννίς, πλῆθος; cf. Otway VP ii.2.299–300 (Bedamar) ‘But I’d forgo the Hopes of a Worlds Empire, | Rather than wound the Bowels of my Friend’). The utterance soon turns (1158–1161) to plans of violence and revenge that the friend has suggested. Friendship appears in a distorted light.16 The talk of friends, enemies, and betrayal has less direct political edge in a moment from Sophocles’ Philoctetes (409bce): Νε. πῶς γάρ τις αἰσχύνοιτ’ ἂν ὠφελῶν φίλους; Φι. λέγεις δ’ Ἀτρείδαις ὄφελος, ἢ ’π’ ἐμοὶ τόδε; 1385 Νε. σοί που φίλος γ’ ὤν· χὠ λόγος τοιόσδε μου. Φι. πῶς, ὅς γε τοῖς ἐχθροῖσί μ’ ἐκδοῦναι θέλεις; Νε. ὦ τᾶν, διδάσκου μὴ θρασύνεσθαι κακοῖς. (1383–1387) 1383 ὠφελῶν φίλους Buttmann: ὠφελούμενος codd.

16

On friendship in Orestes, cf. Konstan (1996) 58–61, (2018) 82–93. Willink (1986) 275 takes πλῆθος as ‘large number’, but this would need a genitive, or ‘one’ with φίλου. τυραννίς suggests the more relevant πλῆθος, cf., e.g., Pind. Pyth. 2.86–87.

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Neopt. How could anyone be ashamed at helping their friends? Phil. Do you mean help to the sons of Atreus, or does this refer to me? Neopt. You, you can assume, as I am your friend; what I say is friendly too. Phil. How can it be, when you want to give me over to my enemies? Neopt. Come on now, you must learn not to be too outspoken in a bad situation. Notably Neoptolemus replies to the claim that he cannot be Philoctetes’ friend with the relaxed tones of Athenian society, and a note of bemused advice. ὦ τᾶν appears elsewhere in Sophocles only at Ichn. 104 and OT 1145 (Corinthian messenger to herdsman).17 Before 411, Euripides in the IT sets Pylades and Orestes’ thoughts in a social context: δόξω δὲ τοῖς πολλοῖσι (πολλοὶ γὰρ κακοί) προδοὺς σεσῶσθαί σ᾽ αὐτὸς εἰς οἴκους μόνος …. ταῦτ’ οὖν φοβοῦμαι καὶ δι’ αἰσχύνης ἔχω· κοὐκ ἔσθ’ ὅπως οὐ χρὴ συνεκπνεῦσαί μέ σοι 685 καὶ συσσφαγῆναι καὶ πυρωθῆναι δέμας, φίλον γεγῶτα καὶ φοβούμενον ψόγον. Ορ. εὔφημα φώνει· τἀμὰ δεῖ φέρειν κακά, ἁπλᾶς δὲ λύπας ἐξόν, οὐκ οἴσω διπλᾶς. ὃ γὰρ σὺ λυπρὸν κἀπονείδιστον λέγεις, 690 ταὔτ’ ἔστιν ἡμῖν, εἴ σε συμμοχθοῦντ’ ἐμοί κτενῶ· (IT 679–680, 683–691) (Pyl.) I will be thought by the many—for low people are many—to have betrayed you and so got safe home myself on my own … These are the things that make me afraid and ashamed. I absolutely must expire with you, be sacrificed with you, and have my body burned with yours. I am your friend, and I fear people’s abuse. Or. Do not say such things! I must put up with the misfortunes that are mine. When I can endure just one portion of sorrow, I will not endure two. The things which give you grief, you say, and will get insults, those same things face me, if I kill you while you are struggling together with me.

17

Cf. Schein (2013) 330; Collard (2018) 97–98. For διδάσκου, cf. Eur. Hec. 299 (Odysseus to Hecuba), Ar. Plut. 473 (Penia to Chremylus).

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What appears as self-contained altruism in Gluck’s Iphigénie en Tauride (Act iii) in Euripides is strongly affected by a world of public opinion. Such considerations are found in Homer; but in an Athenian performance, they will inevitably evoke the contemporary world too. They are certainly expected to weigh with Athenian juries. Cf. δόξετε at e.g., Lys. 22.17, 26.15 (with διαβληθήσεσθε), Aeschin. Tim. 176 (contrast οὐ καταφρονηθήσεσθε), [Dem.] (Apollodorus) 59.111, Hyp. Phil. 10. The last sentence of Pylades’ speech, 683–686, with its inspiring double συν-, ends on the fear of reproach. Orestes picks up συν-; he presents himself as symmetrically worried, over what would be said if Pylades perished.18 There are, then, touches of the Athenian world in the presentation of friendship. They make it the more striking that friendship, as a central concern in a play, is not a standard ingredient of tragedy. Some features may be noted that relate those plays where it is central. Four of the five belong to the less common type of tragedy that does not end in disaster; within them the common familial catastrophes do not take place (cf. Arist. Poet. 1453b.19–22). Two of the five are set in isolated places (as is the PV ); in the Philoctetes, no close family members of the characters are present, in the IT, no parent or spouse, and, Orestes and Pylades think, no brother or sister. Pylades has travelled with Orestes (675), and helps him in his madness (310–314, like Electra in the Orestes); they are brothers in friendship, not actual brothers (497–498). In the HF, Theseus comes to help when Heracles has killed most of his family (not his aged human father or his distant immortal father). In the Alcestis, Heracles helps when Admetus has lost his wife and when his father, with whom he quarrels, has been no use to him. The Orestes is a little more complicated: Orestes has Electra, who after Pylades’ dubious good idea comes up with a dubious good idea of her own (1177–1210); Orestes has been refused aid by a male who is near the border of close kin, his father’s brother. At all events, Orestes and Electra are both in desperate straits. Friends are in these plays a last resort.19 Particular mythological figures are involved. Heracles in the Alcestis has a unique power to help, whether by ambushing Thanatos or going to the underworld (837–860). In the HF, he had rescued Theseus from the dead: a benefit which Theseus is now repaying, when the supremely powerful man has been laid low (1169–1171, 1221–1222, cf. 1415–1416). In the Philoctetes, we hear how Philoctetes benefited Heracles in his agonies (799–801); Heracles, whom Philoctetes has longed to see (1445–1447), appears and sets his seal on the 18 19

Cf. 605–607; Alc. 557–558. Parker (2016) 199 advises against excessive cynicism. On types of relationship in the Alcestis, cf. Schein (1988) 190–206; Jacob (1999) 283–284. At Or. 673 it is left somewhat open whether οἴκου παντός includes Menelaus or not.

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friendship of Neoptolemus and Philoctetes. Both Heracles and Neoptolemus are the φίλοι (1467) whose judgement brings Philoctetes to Troy. In the Pirithous, friendship was exhibited by both Theseus and Heracles, in the underworld: TrGF 43 F 1, hypothesis, τὸν φίλον ἐγκαταλιπεῖν αἰσχρὸν ἡγούμενος ‘thinking it shameful to desert his friend’, δυστυχοῦντας ἐλεήσας φίλους ‘feeling pity for friends in misfortune’, both quite fifth-century; cf. F 7.6–7 (Theseus to Heracles) πιστὸν γὰρ ἄνδρα καὶ φίλον | [ πρ]ο̣δοῦναι δυσμ[ ̣ ̣]ως εἰλημμένον ‘… to betray a faithful friend, caught …’, 9–10 (Heracles to Theseus) you are always an ally τοῖσι δυσ[τυ]χ̣οῦσι ‘to those in misfortune’, 15–17 (Theseus to Heracles) ἐμὴν ἔχεις | εὔνοιαν … [ ἐλ]ευθέρως | ἐχθροῖσί τ᾽ ἐχθρὰν̣ [καὶ φίλοισι]ν εὐμενῆ (cf. Eur. Med. 809), ‘you have my goodwill … which, as befits a free man, is hostile to enemies and kindly to friends’. (Theseus is a friend in the OC too.) The IT and Orestes take up the figure of Orestes, who in Aeschylus and in Euripides’ own Electra wanders alone after his matricide; they give him the friend who had nothing to say in Euripides’ or Sophocles’Electra (and not much in the Choephori). Already in Euripides’ Electra, Orestes had praised Pylades, his only friend (82–87); the IT and Orestes take the idea up. Tragedy does not sprinkle friendship randomly around mythology; in those plays where the relationship is most important, it is mainly associated with a few specific figures.20 Something should be added, however, on the arresting relationship of Neoptolemus and Philoctetes. This relationship develops and is scrutinized for much more of the play than the friendships in the other four tragedies; those tragedies have much else to deal with. While the friendship of Orestes and Pylades was firmly fixed in tradition, it is Sophocles’ innovation to bring Neoptolemus into the expedition to Lemnos. Unlike Orestes and Pylades, or typical Greek friends, Philoctetes and Neoptolemus are of markedly different ages. Philoctetes is not called an old man (we may think too easily of ancient mariners), and his father is not known to be dead; but he belongs to the generation of Neoptolemus’ father, and constantly addresses Neoptolemus as τέκνον and παῖ (as does the chorus). A difference of age is not actually a problem: thus Nestor was old φίλος τ᾽ ἐμός, says Philoctetes (421–422). But the relationship is built on the earlier friendship of Philoctetes for Achilles (242, etc.); Philoctetes belongs 20

Pylades is mentioned as Orestes’ ξένος at Pind. Pyth. 11.15–16; aids Orestes in his vengeance: Nostoi Arg. 5. Pylades Orestes’ cousin through his mother, Agamemnon’s sister: Eur. IT 918– 919, Paus. 2.29.4, Σ Eur. Or. 33, 1233; or a different family connection: Σ Eur. Or. 1233; Eur. Or. 1233? Cf. Fowler (2009–2013) ii.560–561. See Schein (2013) 29–30 on Heracles and friendship in the Philoctetes; note that Hercules and Philoctetes are another of Hyginus’ pairs, see p. 63 n. 9 above. In Pirith. F 7.7 δυσμ[εν]ῶς does not seem ideal in sense (and the adverb is not found elsewhere in tragedy); δυσμ[όρ]ως might be an alternative, cf. Aesch. Th. 837, Ag. 1660.

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to a largely vanished generation of great Greeks (410–452). The effect of the play derives from the mingled likeness and unlikeness of the two principal figures: Philoctetes’ immense length of painful experience, and his physical incapacity, Neoptolemus’ youth, inexperience, and health. Watching their difference on stage will have been a fascination. Differences between characters on stage together, of sex, age, power, are a mainspring of Greek tragedy; thus in Sophocles’ Antigone and Electra, while conversations between sisters play an important part, other conflicts and interactions are more central and spectacular. One may see one reason here why friendship between two like males attracts the tragedians less than other sorts of relationship. In its protracted treatment of friendship, as in so much else, the Philoctetes is unusual; but the nature of the friendship here is revealing.21 In what we have of Greek poetry, the Iliad stands apart in the emphasis it gives to the exploration of friendship. That tells us something about the Iliad. Greek tragedy mostly concentrates on relationships that involve physical links, have a primal force, and display in-built difference. It tells us something about tragedy that the genre concerns itself relatively little with a crucial feature of its contemporary world. But we also learn something about a literary enigma: friendship.

Acknowledgements It is a pleasure to write in honour of two such nice people, who have contributed so much to the study of classical literature.

Bibliography Abbenes, J.G.-J. (1997). νέκῡς. In: Lexikon des frühgriechischen Epos, 16. Göttingen, pp. 314–316. 21

In the OC, Theseus seems younger than Oedipus, but the disparity is less exploited. On friendship in the Philoctetes, cf., e.g., Blundell (1989) 184–225; Belfiore (1993/1994); Rütz (2009) 562–565. In Euripides’ Philoctetes, Actor is a γνώριμος ‘acquaintance’ of Philoctetes (iv b, Dio Chrysostom). In Plato’s Lysis the likeness of friends forms a starting-point (214a2– b7), soon questioned (cf. Arist. Eth. Nic. viii, 1155a.32–1155b.8). Some literatures exploit the paradox of unlike friends: so Pushkin, Евгений Онегин 2.13 (but, cf. 14), Tolstoy, Война и мнр i.1.6 (Pierre and Prince André). The first episode (probably) of Euripides’ Antiope presented brothers alike in status, but contrasted them strongly (cf. frr. 183, 185, 188, 194, 199, 202, etc., Kannicht [2004] i.284–285).

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Alvoni, G. (2006). Nur Theseus oder auch Peirithoos? Zur Hypothesis des pseudoeuripideischen „Peirithoos“. Hermes 134, pp. 290–300. Austin, C. and Olson, S.D., eds. (2004). Aristophanes, Thesmophoriazusae: Edited with Introduction and Commentary. Oxford. Belfiore, E. (1993/1994). Xenia in Sophocles’ Philoctetes. CJ 89, pp. 113–129. Blundell, M.W. (1989). Helping Friends and Harming Enemies: A Study in Sophocles and Greek Ethics. Cambridge. Citroni Marchetti, S. (2000). Amicizia e potere nelle lettere di Cicerone e nelle elegie ovidiane dall’esilio. Studi e testi 18, Florence. Collard, C. (2018). Colloquial Expressions in Greek Tragedy: Revised and Enlarged Edition of P.T. Stevens’s Colloquial Expressions in Euripides. Hermes Einzelschriften 113. Stuttgart. Coray, M. (2016). Homers Ilias. Gesamtkommentar. xi: Achtzehnter Gesang (Σ). 2: Kommentar, Berlin/Boston. Derrida, J. (1994). Politiques de l’amitié. Suivi de: L’oreille de Heidegger. Paris. Edwards, M.W., ed. (1991). The Iliad: A Commentary v: Books 17–20. Cambridge. Finglass, P. (2016). A New Fragment of Sophocles’ Tereus. ZPE 200, pp. 61–85. Fowler, R.L. (2000–2013). Early Greek Mythography. 2 vols. Oxford. Fraisse, J. (1974). Philia. La notion d’amitié dans la philosophie antique. Essai sur un problème perdu et retrouvé. Paris. Fürst, A. (1996). Streit unter Freunden. Ideal und Realität in der Freundschaftslehre der Antike. Beiträge zur Altertumskunde 85. Stuttgart/Leipzig. Greenhalgh, P.A.L. (1982). The Homeric therapon and opaon and Their Historical Implications. BICS 29, pp. 81–90. Griffin, M.T. (2018a). Politics and Philosophy at Rome: Collected Papers, ed. C. Balmaceda. Oxford. Griffin, M.T. (2018b). From Aristotle to Atticus: Cicero and Matius on Friendship. In: M.T. Griffin (2018a) 495–509. Griffin, M.T. (2018c). De Beneficiis and Roman Society. In: Griffin (2018a) 587–610. Hainsworth, J.B., ed. (1993). The Iliad: A Commentary iii: Books 9–12. Cambridge. Herman, G. (1987). Ritualised Friendship and the Greek City. Cambridge. Housman, A.E., ed. (1937). M. Manilii Astronomicon liber secundus: recensuit et enarravit A.E.H. 2nd edn. Cambridge. Hutchinson, G.O. (2016). Hierarchy and Symposiastic Poetry, Greek and Latin. In: V. Cazzato, D. Obbink, and E. Prodi, eds., The Cup of Song: Studies on Poetry and the Symposium. Oxford, pp. 247–270. Hutchinson, G.O. (2017). Repetition, Range, and Attention: The Iliad. In: C. Tsagalis and A. Markantonatos, eds., The Winnowing Oar—New Perspectives in Homeric Studies. Berlin/Boston, pp. 147–172. Jakob, D.J. (1999). Der Redenstreit in Euripides’ Alkestis und der Charakter des Stückes. Hermes 127, pp. 274–285.

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chapter 4

A Gift-Song to an Old Friend: Pindar, Thrasybulus, Nicomachus, and the Second Isthmian Lucia Athanassaki

Friendship is a favourite epinician theme. The poet fashions himself as a guestfriend of his honorands, sharing in their good fortune and happiness.1 The honorands’ peers are represented as breaking into comastic celebrations right after the victory, onsite, while other friends and relatives, and often the community at large, wait eagerly at home to share the victor’s joy by celebrating upon his arrival.2 This idealized world of shared happiness, however, is threatened by negative emotions, notably envy (phthonos), which poets spare no rhetorical means to exorcize by recommending unstinted praise for good deeds and by castigating the envious.3 The Second Isthmian is no exception. It focuses on old friendships, warns about the danger of envy, and contains an enigmatic reference to fair-weather friends. In what follows I discuss Pindar’s representation of all three of them, taking into account the sociopolitical background and other songs that Pindar composed for the ruling family of Acragas over a span of some twenty years. I shall argue that Pindar depicts himself and Nicomachus as the addressee Thrasybulus’ old friends, who joined forces, and means to produce the Second Isthmian and send it to Thrasybulus at a turbulent time when others, friends at the time of prosperity, had abandoned the ship that was tossed by huge political waves. A preliminary remark on my approach in this chapter is in order. I shall say a few words about performance alternatives at the end of my discussion, but the present analysis is based on reading the ode as text in comparison with other texts and in the light of their historical and sociopolitical background. Eva Stehle prefaced her recent reading of the Second Isthmian with the reminder (a) that Pindar’s epinicians had many lives, as first performances (as a rule choral),

1 For the ideology underlying the poet’s self-representation as xenos see Kurke (1991) 135–159. 2 For epinician celebratory occasions and contexts see Agόcs (2012); Athanassaki (2012) and (2014). 3 For phthonos in epinician poetry see Burnett (1985) 38–47; Bulman (1992); Athanassaki (2012) 191–202.

© Lucia Athanassaki, 2023 | doi:10.1163/9789004548671_006

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as re-performances (choral or solo), and as texts which ancient and modern scholars tend to approach as readers and (b) the need for being aware that one and the same text can yield different meanings to viewers/listeners and readers respectively.4 Stehle is right in insisting on the difference between audiospectacle and text, viewers/listeners and readers, and the need to distinguish an audience’s and a reader’s experience and construction of meaning. The reason that I have opted mainly for a reader’s approach in this chapter is that the text (as text) leads me to a different performance scenario than the one that has been so far assumed, namely commission by Thrasybulus of a song intended for choral premiere in Acragas by his peers either before a large audience or at a symposium.5 I shall argue that Pindar composed the Second Isthmian at Nicomachus’ request probably for an event organized by Nicomachus and certainly in the hope that Thrasybulus would also perform the song in Acragas or wherever he was residing at the time. The Second Isthmian is an enigmatic song for a number of reasons. The occasion and date of composition are unknown. In Snell-Maehler’s (1987) edition the ode is tentatively dated to 470bce, a date with which I concur. The song does not celebrate only one victory, but commemorates all the victories Theron and his brother, Xenocrates, won at the Panhellenic games and the Panathenaea. I shall come back to the occasion later. The song has two addressees, one of whom is otherwise unknown. It opens with an address to Thrasybulus, son of the dead Xenocrates, and nephew of Theron. Thrasybulus remains the addressee almost until the end of song, when the speaker turns abruptly to a different addressee, Nicasippus, otherwise unknown, who is asked to convey the poet’s message (and song) to Thrasybulus. There are two other persons mentioned by name: Xenocrates, Thrasybulus’s dead father, and Nicomachus, the Emmenids’ charioteer. Another question is why Pindar mentions Theron only in passing and only together with Xenocrates as sons of Aenesidamus, especially in view of his lavish praise of Theron in his earlier songs. The real crux, however, is the opening mention of the mercenary Muse and a clear emphasis on money that led the ancient scholiasts to think either that Pindar targeted Simonides or that he reminded Thrasybulus of an old debt for an earlier poem.6 All these questions will be addressed in the course of the following discussion. 4 Stehle (2017) 8–9. 5 For commission by Thrasybulus for a memorial event see especially Woodbury (1968) 539– 542; Nisetich (1978); Kurke (1991) 240–256; Bell (1995); Stehle (2017). I have suggested the possibility of a commission by Nicomachus in Athanassaki (2014) 212–218; I reiterate this suggestion here by presenting further arguments and a holistic interpretation of the ode. 6 For Simonides as Pindar’s target see Σ Isthm. 2 schol. 9a and 9b: λέγοι δ’ ἂν πρὸς Σιμωνίδην ταῦτα, ὡς φιλάργυρον διασύρων τὸν ἄνδρα; for reminding Thrasybulus of an old debt, see

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The song consists of three triads. The first triad is dominated by the image of poets mounting the chariot of the Muses, the second by the image of the Emmenids’ chariot victories at the games with Nicomachus in the driving seat, and the third by the festivals and banquets that Xenocrates organized in Acragas in order to celebrate these victories. The ode concludes with an unexpected request. Pindar asks Nicasippus to admonish Thrasybulus to perform the song he is taking to him. In the last words of the ode the poet refers to Thrasybulus as his honourable guest-friend (ξένον ἐμὸν ἠθαῖον). Αʹ οἱ μὲν πάλαι, ὦ Θρασύβουλε, φῶτες, οἳ χρυσαμπύκων ἐς δίφρον Μοισᾶν ἔβαινον κλυτᾷ φόρμιγγι συναντόμενοι, ῥίμφα παιδείους ἐτόξευον μελιγάρυας ὕμνους, ὅστις ἐὼν καλὸς εἶχεν Ἀφροδίτας εὐθρόνου μνάστειραν ἁδίσταν ὀπώραν. ἁ Μοῖσα γὰρ οὐ φιλοκερδής πω τότ᾽ ἦν οὐδ᾽ ἐργάτις ̇ οὐδ᾽ ἐπέρναντο γλυκεῖαι μελιφθόγγου ποτὶ Τερψιχόρας ἀργυρωθεῖσαι πρόσωπα μαλθακόφωνοι ἀοιδαί. νῦν δ᾽ ἐφίητι ⟨τὸ⟩ τὠργείου φυλάξαι ῥῆμ᾽ ἀλαθείας ⟨-υ⟩ ἄγχιστα βαῖνον, ‘χρήματα, χρήματ᾽ ἀνήρ,’ ὃς φᾶ κτεάνων θ᾽ ἅμα λειφθεὶς καὶ φίλων. ἐσσὶ γὰρ ὦν σοφός ̇ οὐκ ἄγνωτ᾽ ἀείδω Ἰσθμίαν ἵπποισι νίκαν, τὰν Ξενοκράτει Ποσειδάων ὀπάσαις, Δωρίων αὐτῷ στεφάνωμα κόμᾳ πέμπεν ἀναδεῖσθαι σελίνων, Βʹ εὐάρματον ἄνδρα γεραίρων, Ἀκραγαντίνων φάος. ἐν Κρίσᾳ δ᾽ εὐρυσθενὴς εἶδ᾽ Ἀπόλλων νιν πόρε τ᾽ ἀγλαΐαν καὶ τόθι κλειναῖς ⟨τ᾽⟩ Ἐρεχθειδᾶν χαρίτεσσιν ἀραρὼς ταῖς λιπαραῖς ἐν Ἀθάναις, οὐκ ἐμέμφθη ῥυσίδιφρον χεῖρα πλαξίπποιο φωτός,

Σ Isthm. 2 schol. 19a: φανερὸν γὰρ ὡς μισθὸν αἰτῶν τὸν Θρασύβουλον τό τε ἀπόφθεγμα προήνεγκε τὸ περὶ τῶν χρημάτων καὶ προσεπιλέγει· οὐκ ἀγνῶτ’ ἀείδω, σοφὸς γὰρ εἶ καὶ συνήσεις πρὸς τί ταῦτα εἴρηται.

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τὰν Νικόμαχος κατὰ καιρὸν νεῖμ᾽ ἁπάσαις ἁνίαις ̇ ὅν τε καὶ κάρυκες ὡρᾶν ἀνέγνον, σπονδοφόροι Κρονίδα Ζηνὸς Ἀλεῖοι, παθόντες πού τι φιλόξενον ἔργον̇ ἁδυπνόῳ τέ νιν ἀσπάζοντο φωνᾷ χρυσέας ἐν γούνασιν πίτνοντα Νίκας γαῖαν ἀνὰ σφετέραν, τὰν δὴ καλέοισιν Ὀλυμπίου Διὸς ἄλσος˙ ἵν᾽ ἀθανάτοις Αἰνησιδάμου παῖδες ἐν τιμαῖς ἔμιχθεν. καὶ γὰρ οὐκ ἀγνῶτες ὑμῖν ἐντὶ δόμοι οὔτε κώμων, ὦ Θρασύβουλ᾽, ἐρατῶν, οὔτε μελικόμπων ἀοιδᾶν. Γʹ οὐ γὰρ πάγος, οὐδὲ προσάντης ἁ κέλευθος γίνεται, εἰ τις εὐδόξων ἐς ἀνδρῶν ἄγοι τιμὰς Ἑλικωνιάδων. μακρὰ δισκήσαις ἀκοντίσσαιμι τοσοῦθ᾽, ὅσον ὀργὰν Ξεινοκράτης ὑπὲρ ἀνθρώπων γλυκεῖαν ἔσχεν. αἰδοῖος μὲν ἦν ἀστοῖς ὁμιλεῖν, ἱπποτροφίας τε νομίζων ἐν Πανελλάνων νόμῳ: καὶ θεῶν δαῖτας προσέπτυκτο πάσας: οὐδέ ποτε ξενίαν οὖρος ἐμπνεύσαις ὑπέστειλ᾽ ἱστίον ἀμφὶ τράπεζαν: ἀλλ᾽ ἐπέρα ποτὶ μὲν Φᾶσιν θερείαις, ἐν δὲ χειμῶνι πλέων Νείλου πρὸς ἀκτάν. μή νυν, ὅτι φθονεραὶ θνατῶν φρένας ἀμφικρέμανται ἐλπίδες, μήτ᾽ ἀρετάν ποτε σιγάτω πατρῴαν, μηδὲ τούσδ᾽ ὕμνους ̇ ἐπεί τοι οὐκ ἐλινύσοντας αὐτοὺς εἰργασάμαν. ταῦτα, Νικάσιππ᾽, ἀπόνειμον, ὅταν ξεῖνον ἐμὸν ἠθαῖον ἔλθῃς. The men of old, Thrasybulus, who mounted the chariot of the Muses with their golden headbands, joining the glorious lyre, lightly shot forth their honey-voiced songs for young men, if one was handsome and had [5] the sweetest ripeness that brings to mind Aphrodite on her lovely throne. For in those days the Muse was not yet a lover of gain, nor did she work for hire. And sweet gentle-voiced odes did not go for sale, with silvered faces, from honey-voiced Terpsichore. But as things are now, she bids us heed

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[10] the saying of the Argive man, which comes closest to actual truth: ‘Money, money makes the man’, he said, when he lost his wealth and his friends at the same time. But enough, for you are wise. I sing the Isthmian victory with horses, not unrecognized, which Poseidon granted to Xenocrates, [15] and sent him a garland of Dorian wild celery for his hair, to have himself crowned, thus honoring the man of the fine chariot, the light of the people of Acragas. And in Crisa widely powerful Apollo looked graciously on him, and gave him glory there as well. And joined with the renowned favors of the sons of Erechtheus [20] in splendid Athens, he found no fault with the chariot-preserving hand of the man who drove his horses, the hand with which Nicomachus gave the horses full rein at the right moment—that driver whom the heralds of the seasons, the Elean truce-bearers of Zeus son of Cronus recognized, since they had no doubt experienced some hospitable act of friendship from him. [25] And with sweet-breathing voice they greeted him when he fell into the lap of golden Victory in their own land, which they call the precinct of Olympian Zeus, where the sons of Aenesidamus were linked with immortal honors. [30] Truly, Thrasybulus, the homes of your family are not unfamiliar with lovely victory-processions, nor with the sweet boasting of songs. For it is no hill to climb, nor is the road steep, if one brings the honors of the Heliconian Muses to the homes of famous men. [35] Having hurled the discus far, may I fling my javelin as far beyond all others, as Xenocrates obtained a sweet temper surpassing all men. He was honored in his townsmen’s company, and he upheld the raising of horses according to the customs of all Greeks. He also welcomed all the banquets for the gods, [40] and the force of the blowing wind never made him furl his sail around his hospitable table; he journeyed as far as Phasis in the summer, and in the winter sailed to the banks of the Nile. Now, although envious hopes beset the minds of mortals, let him never hush in silence either his father’s excellence [45] or these songs. For I did not fashion them to stand idle. Give this message, Nicasippus, when you come across my trusty friend. (trans. Arnson Svarlien [1990])7 The dominant image of the chariot focalizes human interaction in the first two triads. In the first triad Pindar explores the interaction of the laudatores and the laudandi through the image of the chariot as a metaphor for song. The predominant emotion is eros: in old times poets, mounted on the chariot of Muses,

7 The Pindaric quotations are taken from Snell-Maehler’s (1987) edition.

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composed on their lyre honey-voiced praise targeting handsome youths. It was the time when the Muse was neither a lover of gain nor a paid worker. Back then Terpsichore did not put on sale sweet silvered-faced honey-voiced songs. These lines have received much attention as evidence for the gradual professionalization of poetry. There is certainly money-talk, but I find it improbable that Pindar sent Thrasybulus a balance-sheet in verse as some ancient commentators thought. I do not believe that Simonides was Pindar’s target either, especially since the Argive proverb, ‘money, money makes the man’ broadens the picture. Since the proverb is cited by the profit-loving Muse who works for pay, poets are undoubtedly included in the fair-weather friends, but the proverb does not lose its general reference. What the mercenary Muse says, is that when one loses his money, he loses his friends among whom are those who work for Terpsichore.8 I shall come back to this issue. The immediately following statement ‘for you are wise’ is cryptic and intensifies the sense of intimacy between speaker and addressee, which has been established by the second-person reference and the theme of erōs and lovesong. ‘You know what I mean’, the poet tells Thrasybulus, thus implying that they both understand that there is much more than what is being said expressis verbis. The reference is to fair-weather friends whose identity is known to the speaker and his addressee. The following statement ‘I sing the known Isthmian chariot-victory’ (οὐκ ἄγνωτ᾽ ἀείδω Ἰσθμίαν ἵπποισι νίκαν) points in the opposite direction. The poet shifts to a well-known event, a Panhellenic chariot-victory. In the Second Olympian Pindar attributed this victory to both brothers (κοιναὶ Χάριτες, 50). The ancient scholiast informs us that this victory was commemorated by Simonides (inscr. a). It is worth noting the verbal echo between the opening (οὐκ ἄγνωτ᾽ ἀείδω … νίκαν) and the closing frame of the list of victories (οὐκ ἀγνῶτες ὑμῖν ἐντὶ δόμοι οὔτε κώμων, … οὔτε … ἀοιδᾶν). The charioteer Nicomachus dominates the second triad. Pindar describes his skilful driving and the enthusiastic response of the audience only at the Olympic and Panathenaic games, but in all likelihood he was the Emmenids’ charioteer at Isthmia and Delphi as well. Pindar mentions Nicomachus here for the first time, despite the fact that he composed two epinicians for Theron’s Olympic victory and a sympotic song that alludes to the Panathenaic victory.9 Pindar was able to elide Nicomachus’ role in the Second and Third Olympians

8 The ancient scholiasts attribute the dictum to Aristodemus, Σ Isthm. 2 schol. 17, 18a. 9 The sympotic song, fr. 124ab, is fragmentary; it is conceivable of course that Nicomachus was mentioned in the missing part.

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because it was the owner of the chariot and the horses who was proclaimed victor. The fact, however, that he gives the victorious charioteer a central role in the Second Isthmian is quite remarkable and calls for an explanation. In an earlier paper I suggested that Nicomachus dominates the central triad of the Second Isthmian, because he was the one who commissioned the Second Isthmian.10 I shall explore this scenario more systematically here looking at Pindar’s representations of the relations of the protagonists of the re-written story. As in the first triad, in the second triad too, Pindar focuses on human interaction. First, he offers a glimpse into Nicomachus’ skilful performance at Athens, where he won the favour of the Athenians. According to the scholiast, Nicomachus was Athenian, which explains the Athenians’ enthusiastic reception.11 A more elaborate description follows capturing the warm reception Nicomachus received from the Elean heralds, who are said doubtless to have enjoyed the charioteer’s hospitality (παθόντες πού τι φιλόξενον ἔργον). Thus human interaction and reciprocal friendship are at the heart of the second triad too, which concludes with yet another address to Thrasybulus and the description of the celebrations and songs he shared with his friends in Acragas. The image of the Emmenid house resounding with comastic celebrations and victory songs shifts the focus from Olympia to Acragas and from Nicomachus to Xenocrates, whose piety and unrivalled hospitality is the subject of the last triad. In this third triad, the image of the chariot yields to the image of public festivals and sympotic celebrations that Xenocrates hosted in Acragas, with emphasis on his interaction with his fellow citizens and his guest-friends. The adjective αἰδοῖος (