Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece [online ed.] 9780198706823, 0198706820

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Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

Title Pages (p.i) Oxford Classical Monographs Series Information (p.iii) Sharing with the Gods Published under the supervision of a Committee of the Faculty of Classics in the University of Oxford (p.ii) The aim of the Oxford Classical Monograph series (which replaces the Oxford Classical and Philosophical Monographs) is to publish books based on the best theses on Greek and Latin literature, ancient history, and ancient philosophy examined by the Faculty Board of Classics.

(p.iv) Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP, United Kingdom Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University's objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of

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Title Pages Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries © Theodora Suk Fong Jim 2014 The moral rights of the author have been asserted First Edition published in 2014 Impression: 1 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by licence or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Control Number: 2014933686 ISBN 978–0–19–870682–3 Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY Links to third party websites are provided by Oxford in good faith and for information only. Oxford disclaims any responsibility for the materials contained in any third party website referenced in this work.

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Dedication

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

Dedication (p.v) For my family

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Preface

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

(p.vi) (p.vii) Preface The bulk of this work was undertaken during my doctoral studies at, and many subsequent visits to, Oxford, where I met my supervisor Robert Parker, whose wisdom, patience, and humanity are beyond what I ever expected from anyone. Many pieces of his advice only made sense with hindsight, and I owe more to him than to anyone else in my academic pursuits. I became interested in Greek religion thanks to Barbara Kowalzig, whom I met while reading Ancient and Modern History at University College, Oxford: she enthused me with her passion for the cultures of the ancient Mediterranean, and encouraged me to think that the door to ancient Greece was also open to me. Jan Bremmer and Emily Kearns examined the thesis; an anonymous reader reviewed it for OUP; and Scott Scullion oversaw its revision into this monograph: I am grateful to them all for their advice, comments, and challenges, even if we have not always agreed with each other. Many people have made an impact along the way. In particular, I would like to thank Catherine Holmes, Lisa Kallet, Alexander Murray, Oswyn Murray, and Mary Whitby for their moral support and help in various ways. Peter Fawcett, Vincent Gabrielsen, Paraskevi Martzavou, Alfonso Moreno, and Ian Rutherford kindly discussed specific issues with me. Miscellaneous people have kindly read and commented on parts of the manuscript at various stages of its revision: I extend my thanks to them all. For financial assistance I am deeply indebted to the Swire Educational Trust, whose generous funds enabled me to undertake my undergraduate and postgraduate studies at Oxford and to travel extensively in Greece. I thank also the Society of Scholars in the Humanities and the Department of History at the University of Hong Kong, where I was a research fellow from 2011–12 to 2012– 13. The British School at Athens and the Sackler Library at Oxford, with their excellent research facilities and helpful staff, have always made my numerous visits both productive and enjoyable. Above all, I thank my family for giving me Page 1 of 2

Preface the freedom to pursue what seemed a very remote dream, for putting up with my extended periods of absence from home, and for all that they have given up over the years. S. F. Jim July 2013

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List of Illustrations

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

(p.x) (p.xi) List of Illustrations Cover illustration: Mantiklos ‘Apollo’, bronze statuette (height: 20.3 cm) from Thebes, Boeotia, Francis Barlett Donation of 1900, 03.997 (photograph © 2014 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston). 1. Antenor’s Kore, Athens, Acropolis Museum, no. 681 (photo: Hermann Wagner; Deutsches Archäologisches Institut‐Athen‐Akropolis, neg. nr. 1674). 134 2. Pedestal for a water basin, Acropolis Museum, Athens, no. 607 (photo: author, © Hellenic Ministry of Education and Religious Affairs, Culture and Sports, Archaeological Receipts Fund). 140 3. Bronze axe from Sant’Agata in Calabria, Italy, BM Bronze 252 (© The Trustees of the British Museum). 146 4. Bronze disc, part of a cymbal, Athens, National Archaeological Museum, X 17525 (photo: author, © Hellenic Ministry of Education and Religious Affairs, Culture and Sports, Archaeological Receipts Fund). 159 5. Bronze vase, Athens, National Archaeological Museum, X 7336 (photo: author, © Hellenic Ministry of Education and Religious Affairs, Culture and Sports, Archaeological Receipts Fund). 160 6. Athenian treasury in the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi (photo: author; reproduced by permission of the First Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities, © Hellenic Ministry of Education and Religious Affairs, Culture and Sports, Archaeological Receipts Fund). 183 7. The ‘Great Eleusinian Relief’, Athens, National Archaeological Museum, no. 126 (photo: Gianis Patrikianos, © Hellenic Ministry of Education and Religious Affairs, Culture and Sports, Archaeological Receipts Fund). 214 8. Sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi (photo: author; reproduced by permission of the First Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities, © Hellenic

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List of Illustrations Ministry of Education and Religious Affairs, Culture and Sports, Archaeological Receipts Fund). 241

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Conventions and Abbreviations

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

(p.xii) (p.xiii) Conventions and Abbreviations Abbreviations of periodicals follow those in the American Journal of Archaeology (AJA) 95 (1991), 1–16 (as expanded at ), supplemented by those in L’Année Philologique. Ancient authors and reference works are referred to as in OCD4, and occasionally LSJ (1996), with a few additions listed below. Epigraphical publications are abbreviated following LSJ and Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum, with additions as follows. Translations of quoted texts are taken or adapted from a variety of existing editions as indicated in the footnotes. Where no translator is stated, the translations are my own, except for Theophrastus’ De Pietate, which follows the translation in Fortenbaugh et al. (1992). The spelling of familiar Greek names is Latinized following OCD4, whereas Greek personal names in dedicatory inscriptions are Hellenized. All dates refer to BC unless otherwise indicated. Agora The Athenian Agora: Results of the Excavations Conducted by the American School of Classical Studies in Athens (Princeton, 1953–). Asylia K. J. Rigsby, Asylia: Territorial Inviolability in the Hellenistic World (Berkeley; London, 1996). ATL B. D. Meritt, H. T. Wade‐Gery, and M. F. McGregor, The Athenian Tribute Lists, 4 vols (Princeton, 1939–53). Clara Rhodos Clara Rhodos: Studi e materiali pubblicati a cura dell’Istituto storico‐ archeologico di Rodi, vols 1–10 (Rhodes, 1928–41). FD Fouilles de Delphes. École française d’Athènes (Paris, 1902–). Page 1 of 3

Conventions and Abbreviations I.Eleusis K. Clinton, Eleusis: The Inscriptions on Stone, vols 1–2 (Athens, 2005– 8). (p.xiv) IGASMG R. Arena, Iscrizioni Greche Archaiche di Sicilia e Magna Grecia, 5 vols (Milan, 1989–98). IGDOP L. Dubois, Inscriptions grecques dialectales d’Olbia du Pont (Geneva, 1996). IosPE B. Latyschev (ed.), Inscriptiones antiquae orae septentrionalis Ponti Euxini Graecae et Latinae (Petropoli, 1885–1901). K.–A. R. Kassel and C. Austin (eds), Poetae Comici Graeci, 8 vols (Berlin, 1983–). LSJ H. G. Liddell, R. Scott, and H. S. Jones (eds), A Greek–English Lexicon, with a Revised Supplement (9th edn, Oxford, 1996). McCabe, Chios Inscriptions D. F. McCabe and J. V. Brownson, Chios Inscriptions: Texts and List (Princeton, 1986). McCabe, Didyma Inscriptions D. F. McCabe, Didyma Inscriptions: Texts and List (Princeton, 1985). McCabe, Halikarnassos Inscriptions D. F. McCabe and J. V. Brownson, Halikarnassos Inscriptions: Texts and List (Princeton, 1991). McCabe, Miletos Inscriptions D. F. McCabe and M. A. Plunkett, Miletos Inscriptions: Texts and List (Princeton, 1984). McCabe, Samos Inscriptions D. F. McCabe, J. V. Brownson, and B. D. Erhman, Samos Inscriptions: Texts and List (Princeton, 1986). McCabe, Teos Inscriptions D. F. McCabe and M. A. Plunkett, Teos Inscriptions: Texts and List (Princeton, 1985). ML R. Meiggs and D. M. Lewis, A Selection of Greek Historical Inscriptions to the End of the Fifth Century B.C. (rev. edn, Oxford, 1989). NGSL E. Lupu, Greek Sacred Law: A Collection of New Documents (2nd edn, Leiden, 2009). (p.xv) OCD

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Conventions and Abbreviations S. Hornblower and A. Spawforth (eds), Oxford Classical Dictionary (4th edn, Oxford, 2012). PAA J. S. Traill, Persons of Ancient Athens (Toronto, 1994–). RO P. J. Rhodes and R. Osborne, Greek Historical Inscriptions 404–323 BC (Oxford, 2003). SEG Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum (Leiden; Amsterdam, 1927–). TAM II E. Kalinka (ed.), Tituli Lyciae linguis Graeca et Latina conscripti, 3 fasc. (Vienna, 1920–44). ThesCRA Thesaurus Cultus et Rituum Antiquorum, 8 vols (Basel; Los Angeles, 2004–12). Tit. Cal. M. Segre, Tituli Calymnii, in ASAA NS 6–7 (Bergamo, 1944–5 [1952]). Tit. Cam. M. Segre and E. Pugliese Carratelli, Tituli Camirenses, in ASAA NS 11–13 (1949–51 [1952]), 141–318. (p.xvi)

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Introduction

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

Introduction A History of ‘First‐Fruits’ Theodora Suk Fong Jim

DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.003.0001

Abstract and Keywords The phenomenon of gift-giving has fascinated historians and anthropologists for over a century. A long history of scholarship on ‘first-fruits’ in different religious cultures is here synthesized, beginning with an overview of anthropological literature on comparable practices in other cultures, followed by an examination of the place of the phenomenon in modern discourses on Greek religion. Most scholars’ interest in aparchai and dekatai is, however, only peripheral, and little attempt has been made to explain their religious significance. Using an array of ancient sources and modern approaches to gift-giving in anthropology, this book offers a comprehensive account of the religious custom. The subject bears on the larger issues of the nature of gift-giving between men and gods, and the relationship between ritual acts and religious belief in the study of Greek religion. Keywords:   religion, gift-giving, anthropological, ritual, belief, first-fruits, aparchai, dekatai

Gift‐giving was one of the most common means of interaction between the Greeks and their gods. Individuals might present something to the gods to pray for success in an undertaking, to seek help when hard‐pressed, to thank them for favours received, or to act in accordance with divine commands, oracles, and dreams.1 This phenomenon has fascinated historians and anthropologists for over a century: the appeal of the subject lies in its wondrous diversity, with tens of thousands of offerings of all kinds presented to a range of deities in varying contexts and for different reasons, each embodying a different story of hope, Page 1 of 24

Introduction fulfilment, and anxiety in dealings with the gods. In a religious culture without doctrines or explicit statements of faith, these gifts to the gods are the most vivid manifestations of Greek piety, bringing us into close contact with the religious life of the ancient Greeks. This book focuses on aparchai and dekatai, the so‐called ‘first‐fruits’ and ‘tithes’. A traditional practice widely attested in the Greek world, aparchai and dekatai entailed offering the gods a share of the proceeds from a variety of activities: agriculture, handicrafts, trade, mining, seafaring, military victories, and others. Amid the array of Greek religious offerings—the most common ones being anathemata, agalmata, dora, hiera, mnemata, thusiai, and so on—what distinguishes (p.2) aparchai and dekatai from other gifts is their strongly retrospective character. These were typically presented to the gods after some success or benefit was obtained, and not in anticipation of divine favours to come. Thus it was only after a successful catch of fish, not before or in the midst of it, that a fisherman would offer an aparche or a dekate of his work to the gods. There were other kinds of retrospective gifts too, but gifts of the aparchai and dekatai type were usually made when the Greeks came off well from an enterprise or had enjoyed some good fortune, and not after deliverance from difficult or dangerous situations, such as illness, calamities, or life‐crises. From the benefits received, a portion might be offered to the gods as an aparche or dekate. Both aparchai and dekatai represent the preliminary shares for the gods, set aside customarily before the Greeks used the rest for themselves. An aparche was normally an unspecified portion, whereas a dekate was literally a tenth. Alongside these two terms were synonyms such as akrothinion and apargma. While the precise portion and the source of offerings might vary, the idea that the gods should be given their share first is fundamental. Perhaps because ‘first‐fruits’ practices are so common in ancient Greek culture and across religious cultures,2 the custom has been taken simply as a given in both ancient and modern scholarship, with the result that little attempt has been made to study the phenomenon or to explain its religious significance. This book is about aparchai, dekatai, and related offerings all over the Greek world from the Archaic to the Hellenistic periods (c.700–31 BC). The question is not just what kinds of aparchai and dekatai were presented to the gods, nor simply in what contexts this religious practice is attested. Instead, my main concern is to investigate why the Greeks presented these particular kinds of gifts to the gods, and what their behaviour tells us about their religious beliefs, mentalities, and presuppositions. Surely the Greeks did not take up the practice simply because it was already established, but because it suited their needs and provided a means of interacting with the divinities. What motivations and intentions does this reflect? Why was it considered an appropriate and necessary way of maintaining good relations with the gods? How does (p.3) it relate to the Greeks’ religious world‐view and the opinions they entertained about the divine? What is necessary, therefore, is to go beyond mere description to investigate the Page 2 of 24

Introduction underlying religious beliefs and mentalities. Aparchai and dekatai bear on the larger issues of the nature of gift‐giving between men and gods, and the relationship between ritual acts and religious belief in the study of Greek religion. Similar questions will emerge throughout the course of this book, shifting attention from the traditional focus on ritual practice to the mental and psychological. Some fundamental ideas about gift‐giving need to be clarified at the outset. Greek religion is often said to be a ‘votive religion’. Whether in times of need or in normal circumstances, the Greeks could pray to the gods and promise an offering if the favours requested were granted.3 A vow thus established a conditional agreement, but not a contractual relation, between men and gods: it did not oblige the gods to grant a favour, but did bind the worshipper to act as promised in this event.4 Vow fulfilment was primarily the responsibility of the person who made it, but in some circumstances it might be discharged by another family member or someone else on his/her behalf.5 Its fulfilment is normally indicated by the words εὐχωλή, εὐχή, or εὔχεσθαι in dedicatory inscriptions.6 Prayers, vows, and offerings were therefore closely related as means of human interaction with the gods. Nevertheless, prominent though the idea of ‘votive religion’ is in modern scholarship, Greek religious offerings were not necessarily connected to a vow. Individuals could bring a gift to the gods even if no promise had been made beforehand. A closer examination of the evidence will reveal that only a small proportion of offerings explicitly mention a vow. Therefore we are presented with the possibility that the majority of what historians refer to generically as ‘votive offerings’ or ex‐voto are in fact not demonstrably ‘vowed’ or ‘votive’, and that they might have been offered without any prior (p.4) promises made. Like other gifts to the gods, aparchai and dekatai might be made to fulfil a vow but did not necessarily involve one: as will become clear later, individuals might feel an obligation to give the gods a share voluntarily, even though they were not bound by a vow to do so. When it came to making a gift, Greek religious offerings could take many forms. While some worshippers offered an animal sacrifice, individuals of more humble means might replace an animal victim with less expensive vegetarian foodstuffs, cakes, and/or libations. Other worshippers might prefer more durable and lasting dedications: these could be objects originally intended for other uses (so‐ called ‘raw’ dedications), such as a tool of a trade or personal item, or objects specially commissioned for dedicatory purposes (‘converted’ dedications), such as clay figurines and bronze statues.7 Offerings might be brought to a Panhellenic sanctuary or local shrine, but they might also be offered in private households or other places.8 However, we need not assume that all offerings were tangible: one could also honour the gods with hymns and choruses.9 Monetary offerings, temene set aside as sacred land, and cult foundations were also possible gifts to the gods, inter alia.10 Regardless of when and why it was offered, where it was set up, and what form it took, anything set aside for the Page 3 of 24

Introduction gods may be considered as a gift to the gods. It is the intention of marking out something as belonging to the gods or (in the cases of hymning and singing) giving what one has in their honour that gives it a ‘sacred’ quality.11 Aparchai and dekatai too could take a variety of forms and appear in many different contexts. So diverse is their nature that the English word ‘first‐fruits’ with its agricultural connotations is potentially misleading. In the rest (p.5) of this book, therefore, I shall refer to aparchai, dekatai, and related offerings collectively as ‘first offerings’.

I. Anthropological studies of ‘first‐fruits’ The custom of making first offerings is not limited to ancient Greece. Comparable practices are widely attested in other cultures, such as in Semitic, African, and Polynesian societies. Our investigation will begin with an overview of anthropological literature on these practices, before we consider the place of the phenomenon in modern discourses on Greek religion. As will emerge from the following discussion, the phrase ‘first‐fruits’ is used by anthropologists in relation to a wide variety of phenomena that are not necessarily identical either with each other or with ancient Greek practices, so that there exists no single global phenomenon or one unified concept of ‘first‐fruits’. We shall revert later to questions of comparability between ‘first‐fruits’ in other cultures and those in ancient Greece.12 In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, some anthropologists adopted an evolutionary framework which saw magic as the earliest stage of development, which then gave way to religion, and later to science. According to this paradigm, the offering of first‐fruits was a ‘magical’ rite practised by ‘primitive’ peoples as opposed to a ‘religious’ one. One of the earliest theoretical treatments of first offerings using this approach is William Robertson Smith’s Religion of the Semites (1889). He identified two major types of sacrifice in Semitic religion, namely animal sacrifice and cereal offerings, following the Hebrew distinction of zebah uminha (‘bloody and bloodless oblations’). Both first‐fruits and tithes fell into the category of cereal offerings, but differed in the degree of obligation: first‐fruits were private and free‐will offerings from individuals, whereas tithes were public payments imposed by royal authorities like cult taxes on the land’s produce for financing public sacrifices and sacrificial feasts. By contrast, animal sacrifice was ‘not a mere payment of tribute but an (p.6) act of social fellowship between the deity and his worshippers’. Through his study of the Semitic ritual of sacrificing and consuming what he understood to be a totem animal, a sacred animal thought to be a divine ancestor of a kinship group, Robertson Smith developed a ‘communion theory’ of sacrifice: animal sacrifice was a communion between men and god, as well as between members of the group by joint participation in the flesh and blood of a sacred victim. Vegetarian offerings of first‐fruits and tithes, as they could not effect this

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Introduction communication, were considered by Robertson Smith as having secondary importance in Semitic rituals.13 The original purpose of James Frazer’s The Golden Bough was to explain the obscure custom of the priesthood of Diana at Nemi (near the town of Aricia) in Italy, according to which each new successor to the office had to slay the priest after plucking a bough from a sacred oak in the sanctuary; if successful, he would bear the title ‘King of the Wood’. Drawing on Robertson Smith’s idea of the ritual sacrifice of the divine totem and Wilhelm Mannhardt’s vegetation spirits,14 Frazer developed a universal theory: there existed an indwelling vegetation spirit in the animal or human victim in sacrifice throughout the world. Underlying all rituals was an enactment of the death and resurrection of this spirit or divine figure upon whom the fertility of the land and the well‐being of the community depended. It was to sustain the divine king’s power that the ‘aged’ one was killed and supplanted by a new vigorous successor. Frazer indiscriminately applied his ideas to materials collected from many disparate cultures and traditions;15 and first‐fruits practices served as an exemplification of his grand theory. Frazer took first‐fruits as a kind of sacred food believed to contain the body of a corn‐spirit. By collecting the new corn, making it into a cake, and consuming it, members of a community were ‘partaking in the body of the corn‐spirit’. Frazer called this ‘the sacrament of first‐fruits’. Another important contention, which we shall encounter again and again in subsequent scholarship, is the lifting of taboo. (p.7) According to Frazer, the earth’s produce was thought to belong to the deity; any failure to offer him first‐fruits before human consumption was believed to incur undesirable consequences. Once the deity had enjoyed his share, the taboo on food would be lifted and people would be free to enjoy the rest. He further considered these offerings as a means of enabling the deity’s survival and thereby furthering his benefactions to the people. Originally, according to Frazer, the presentation of first‐fruits to a deity was perhaps combined with the sacramental eating of the corn‐spirit’s body; but the ‘sacrament’ gradually lost its importance and the presentation alone was considered a sufficient preparation prior to eating the new crop.16 Frazer’s work had profound influence on other scholars’ interpretation of first‐ fruits, not least his contemporary Jane E. Harrison’s Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion (1903) and Themis (1912).17 She distinguished two kinds of Greek rituals, Olympian and Chthonian, which she characterized by the formulae do ut des (‘I give so that you may give’) and do ut abeas (‘I give that you may go away’). Olympian rituals were worshippers’ ‘cheerful attendance’ (θεραπεία) directed towards beneficent deities, whereas Chthonian rituals were performed to avert the evil influence (ἀποτροπή) of the underground powers.18 Under her schema, first‐fruits seem to fall into both the Olympian and Chthonic frameworks, depending on the context. For example, it is unclear if the supposed Page 5 of 24

Introduction ‘first‐fruits’ in the Athenian festival Anthesteria, consisting of grain and seeds offered to the chthonic deities but with the expectation of do ut des, constituted an Olympian or Chthonian ritual.19 Like Frazer, she claimed that fruits harvested were ‘sacred, forbidden, dangerous’ as primitive man envisaged an anthropomorphic god who was jealous, and that the taboo and evil influence could be removed by offering first‐fruits. In her ‘gift theory of sacrifice’, Harrison argued that in the primitive stage, sacrifice was not a gift, involved no god and no giving up. (p.8) Instead it was simply about ‘handling, manipulating mana’,20 an indwelling force which would be passed to the eater when the animal was eaten; and first‐fruits were considered to contain this mana. The concept of mana is not supported by Greek evidence but is imported directly from Polynesian culture. It was probably influenced by Robert R. Marett and was reminiscent of Frazer’s idea of an indwelling force in non‐human objects. The theory advanced by Hubert and Mauss in Sacrifice: Its Nature and Function (1964), published originally as ‘Essai sur la nature et la fonction du sacrifice’, in L’Année Sociologique 2 (1899 [1897–8]), identified two basic processes underlying all forms of sacrifices: sacralization and desacralization. Sacralization induced a state of sanctity into a profane object so that it could serve as an intermediary between the worshipper and the god. By contrast, desacralization dispelled the state of sanctity and re‐established the distinction between the worlds of the human and the divine. Hubert and Mauss saw in the offering of first‐fruits an exemplification of the desacralization function of sacrifice. According to them, some objects were in a state of such great sanctity that they became unusable or dangerous and would need the ‘sacrifice of desacralization’, and this was especially the case with products of the earth: ‘Each species of fruit, cereal, and other products is sacred in its entirety, forbidden, so long as a rite, often of a sacrificial nature, has not rid it of the prohibition which protects it. To effect this there is concentrated in one portion of the species of the fruit all the power contained in the others. Then this part is sacrificed, and by virtue of this alone, the others are released.’21 Hubert and Mauss were clearly building on Frazer’s notion of taboo, but differed by developing a theory of the mechanism which the first‐fruits underwent and the function it served. The scholars considered so far were caught up in the quest for the historical origin of religion. Their interest in what they called ‘primitive’ cultures was accompanied by the assumption that studies of ‘primitive’ peoples could help to explain a wide spectrum of phenomena across time and space. The works of Frazer and Harrison in particular were essentially an agglomeration of data collected from (p.9) different traditions to support their preconceived ideas. This indiscriminate application of the comparative method has long been criticized: it is misguided to seek to bring the multiplicity of seemingly comparable practices within the unity of one universal explanation when there can be no single interpretation or simple origin of religion. It appears that these scholars’ interest in first‐fruits was only peripheral. Hubert and Mauss Page 6 of 24

Introduction mentioned first‐fruits to support their theory of desacralization. Frazer and Harrison (and later Nilsson, see Section II) were interested in first‐fruits only insofar as they seemed to embody some ‘primitive’ rites concerning agricultural fertility. Despite their varying emphases, they shared the basic assumption that the offering of first‐fruits was some ‘primitive’ practice concerned with human survival and practical needs. Little attention was paid to ‘first‐fruits’ as ‘votive’ offerings, dedications, or thank‐offerings, as if these were conceptions appropriate only for ‘higher’ modes of religion and therefore irrelevant to ‘primitive’ cultures. More generally, the relation between ritual, sacrifice, offering, and dedication remained elusive and ill‐defined, with the result that first‐fruits sometimes shift imperceptibly from one to another. Émile Durkheim’s22 influence was already found in the works of Harrison and of Hubert and Mauss; but it was not until Max Gluckman that a sociological approach was applied to the study of first‐fruits rituals. In his 1938 study of first‐ fruits ceremonies among the Bantu people in south‐eastern Africa, Gluckman demonstrated how agricultural festivals served to affirm the social status quo by avoiding conflicts and reinforcing the social bond between participants. He argued that people were prone to conflicts on occasions of dearth and harvest, when different families’ crops ripened at different times. Prohibitions on eating before the successful performance of the relevant rites in the ceremony could ensure that people consumed the new crop at the same time and thereby avoided quarrels and socially disruptive forces. The hospitality of the chief in providing meat, and the prescribed order in which the fruits and meat could be taken, all had the effect of reinforcing the hierarchy of different social groups while at the same time integrating them.23 However, Gluckman’s subsequent work went beyond a simple social solidarity model. (p.10) He criticized Durkheim for overemphasizing the degree of social solidarity and ignoring elements of conflict and individual variations; and he changed the way ceremonies were analysed by introducing the notion of ‘ritual of rebellion’, according to which authority and social order were reinforced through the temporary and controlled release of tension during festivals. This formed his main line of argument in his 1954 study of first‐fruits festivals in Africa. He drew attention to elements of rivalry and hostility, most notably the chanting of songs which expressed hatred and rejection of the king. Yet at the same time there were other rites which reaffirmed the king’s authority. The expression of tension, to Gluckman, ultimately reaffirmed social unity so that the status quo remained unchallenged.24 Significantly, therefore, Gluckman’s work shifted the perspective of inquiry away from that traditionally adopted since Frazer. But Gluckman was not alone in this approach; other anthropologists have also seen in first‐fruits ceremonies the function of reinforcing social and/or political relations. Hilda Kuper, from whom Gluckman developed his idea of ‘ritual of rebellion’, thus interpreted the first‐ fruits ceremony (called incwala) among the Swazi people in south‐eastern Africa: Page 7 of 24

Introduction not only did it symbolize the rejuvenation of the king, it also served as an ‘economic weapon’ of kingship through which the king could control the eating of the new food and make clear the people’s economic dependence upon him. Another anthropologist, Daryll Forde, emphasized how first‐fruits ceremonies in the African tribe Yako (a tribe with a highly complicated social structure) served to integrate the villagers and reinforce their different social roles in a series of rituals.25 Nevertheless, a sociological approach risks reducing a vast and complex ceremony to a communal occasion with a main function, namely that of maintaining social and political unity, and thereby neglecting other aspects of the phenomenon. The precise role of first‐fruits in these analyses is unclear; and there seems to be nothing intrinsic in first‐fruits to make them an agent for social solidarity. First‐fruits ceremonies were probably included in sociological approaches to rituals only incidentally because of the cohesive (p.11) potential and pseudo‐rebellious elements some anthropologists identified in them. Yet the ideas of ‘social integration’ and ‘rituals of rebellion’ are not applicable to all first‐fruits ceremonies; on the other hand, they can be applied to many festivals that do not involve first‐fruits. Gluckman’s theory also raises the question of the relation between first‐fruits and restrictions on food consumption. Instead of connecting his social solidarity model with first‐fruits of harvest in Greece (where the evidence for prohibition is lacking, as will be discussed later), it may be used with the military practice of giving the gods a share of booty before further division, and to explore its potential impact on the solidarity of the Greek army (see Chapter 6). In the last few decades, instead of lifting taboos and reinforcing social solidarity, some scholars have emphasized the role of first‐fruits rituals in maintaining human–divine relations, and others, by extension of that, the power relations between the ruling class and its subjects. Polynesian societies provide a fertile field for anthropological analyses. According to Raymond Firth’s The Work of the Gods in Tikopia (1967), the indigenous people considered yam a sacred food representing the body of the principal deity. Yams were partaken of in first‐fruits festivals in Tikopia as an act of communion with the god in commemoration of his work; and this formed part of the ritual cycle which Firth called ‘the Work of Gods’: it was a traditional means of maintaining contact with the deities and securing their favours.26 In another Polynesian society, Fuji, yams were presented to ancestral deities, who were incarnate in the person of the chief, as an act of thanksgiving and propitiation; after the presentation the yams were consumed by the people. James Turner suggests that although in Fuji there was not the identification between the yam and the deity’s flesh that there was in Tikopia, the eating of the yam was also a form of communion.27 While Firth and Turner emphasize how first‐fruits rituals maintained relations with the deities, others draw attention to their political and economic implications. In some Polynesian societies, it has been observed, agricultural first‐fruits were symbolically offered to the gods and then intercepted by the Polynesian chiefs. Page 8 of 24

Introduction The religious custom could therefore serve as a mechanism by which the chief appropriated the food to enhance his economic and (p.12) political position.28 Some of these anthropological insights may enhance our understanding of the Greek aparchai in certain political contexts. As we shall see in Chapter 7, similar processes of exploitation and power exertion seem to be at work in the Athenian empire. Other anthropologists have explored first‐fruits customs in different parts of Africa, each with a different focus. William D. Hammond‐Tooke argues that the first‐fruits ceremonies (called ingcube) in the African tribe Baca have a strong military character, identifying rich military symbolism in the rituals. He interprets the ritual killing of a bull as an enactment of military combat with the tribe’s enemies, and he explains the unequal restrictions on consuming new crops (stricter for men but more lax for women and children) in terms of their effects on the army: breaking the taboo will weaken the troops. The rituals’ military significance, in his view, has superseded their original agricultural functions. Monica Wilson too argues for the role of first‐fruits ceremonies in strengthening the army among the Pondo people in South Africa. When asked why the rites are no longer performed, her informants frequently reply, ‘There are no more wars nowadays.’29 In ancient Greece, despite the frequent association between first offerings and warfare, the military practice was different (the gods were typically offered part of the booty, not the land’s produce) and betrayed different concerns (to cultivate the gods’ continued favour in battle, not to strengthen the army), as we shall discuss in Chapter 6. A more comprehensive approach is adopted by an ethnographer, Claude Savary, who studies first‐fruits festivals of yam in several western African tribes. From the agricultural point of view, they reflect the farmers’ need to propitiate divine powers for protection and security. Ecologically, prohibiting the harvest and consumption of premature crops before the festivals can help to protect the yam. For the agricultural community, the festivals provide villagers with rare opportunities for entertainment, relaxation, and social integration.30 Different again is Keith Snedegar’s interpretation of first‐fruits celebrations (termed eshwama) among the Nguni peoples in south‐eastern (p.13) Africa. He identifies celestial metaphors in the rituals and a correspondence between their timing and the lunar cycle. On such occasions the king, who is likened by his people to the sun and moon, would spit at the sun, a ritual believed to ensure good fortune and a share of ‘solar potency’ for his people. Nevertheless, not all first‐fruits festivals are associated with celestial phenomena. Snedegar is primarily concerned with astronomical elements in African culture and not first‐ fruits practices. As he admits, the aim of his study is ‘to collect material on their [Nguni traditions’] star names and celestial terminology, calendrics, mythology; and to explore the prospects for astronomical dating of oral histories’, with the

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Introduction expectation that ‘the Nguni would have incorporated their astronomical understanding in their ritual practices’.31 The above overview, though not intended to be exhaustive, demonstrates the state of anthropological approaches to the subject in the last century or so. We have seen that various kinds of crops are offered as ‘first‐fruits’ in a diversity of first‐fruits festivals in different parts of Africa and Polynesia; therefore there is no single object of study among anthropologists. The fact that various festivals involving ‘first‐fruits’ in a given culture can be interpreted so differently by anthropologists may suggest that there is no single or overarching explanation for the phenomena, and that the practices are multifaceted enough for scholars to find in them material which fits their own theories.32 With the exception of Savary, who considers several dimensions of the phenomenon, most scholars tend to focus on an aspect corresponding to their own interests, and very often their main concern is not so much with first‐fruits as with another subject—be it social cohesion, military practice, political relations, or astronomy—that can be illuminated by the festival. In most existing discussions of the subject, therefore, scholarly interest in first‐fruits remains incidental or peripheral. To return to the question raised earlier about the comparability of ‘first‐fruits’ in ancient Greece and other cultures, several important differences can be identified. Agricultural first‐fruits predominate in what we have seen above: the kinds of crops involved might vary, yet most commonly we find an agricultural community celebrating such a festival after harvest. The offering of first‐fruits is studied by anthropologists as a communal rather than a private practice. In (p. 14) ancient Greece, by contrast, despite having an agricultural aspect, first offerings might be offered in a variety of other contexts. Although a communal dimension to the custom certainly existed in Greece, it was a pervasive practice in individuals’ religious life too. Where private concerns are mentioned, early scholarship tends to focus on people’s practical needs, such as protection from disaster and the productivity of the fields, rendering the ‘primitive’ man incapable of other motivations such as gratitude and thanksgiving, which, according to the evolutionary paradigm, seem to be the preserve of more ‘advanced’ cultures.33 A further crucial difference lies in taboos on food. Beginning with Frazer, the vast majority of anthropological studies mention restrictions on the consumption of new crops before first‐fruits were symbolically offered to the divinities and/or their earthly representatives. While taboos on consumption may apply to some cultures,34 as far as ancient Greece is concerned, the idea of prohibitions (if any) on eating before agricultural first‐ fruits were offered is not borne out in the sources. We shall explore the significance of agricultural first‐fruits in Greece further in subsequent chapters.35

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Introduction II. Historical studies in Greek religion The only detailed study of aparchai and related offerings in ancient Greece is Hans Beer’s unpublished German dissertation Ἀπαρχή und verwandte Ausdrücke in griechischen Weihinschriften (1914). Despite providing a systematic linguistic analysis of the religious terminology and its application in dedicatory inscriptions, this study is now out of date and at times inaccurate. Beer was preoccupied with the origin (p.15) and the evolutionary development of the practice. He saw first‐fruits as originating from agricultural practices and later coming to be applied to other human activities; and he took the divine recipients as having evolved from indwelling vegetation spirits to external anthropomorphic gods. Following Frazer, he understood first‐fruits as a magical means of preserving the vegetation spirit and maintaining the fertility of the fields.36 Beer made little attempt to differentiate between the different kinds of first offerings and the circumstances in which they were made, nor was he interested in the motivations (apart from agricultural concerns) underlying the phenomenon. In short, Beer’s study reiterated many of Frazer’s ideas and made no substantial contribution to our understanding of the religious practice. The only major Anglophone treatment of first offerings is William H. D. Rouse’s chapter ‘Tithes, First‐fruits, and Kindred Offerings’ in his Greek Votive Offerings (1902). Unlike his contemporaries, who concerned themselves with the origin and ‘magical’ nature of the practice, Rouse’s analysis had the merit of steering the study of Greek religious offerings in a different direction. By assembling miscellaneous materials on ‘first‐fruits’ and related offerings, Rouse discussed such questions as their form and iconography, the background of their dedicators, and the contexts of dedication. Nevertheless, he made no clear distinction between first offerings and other anathemata and between different types of first offerings, nor did he go beyond mere descriptions to investigate questions of intent and motivation. As his focus was on ‘votive offerings’, aparchai and dekatai in other contexts (such as animal sacrifice, food offerings, and cult finance) were given little attention. Like Beer’s dissertation, much of the material in Rouse (1902) is now out of date and needs to be supplemented by new epigraphic and archaeological discoveries in the last century. Rouse’s analysis is summarized in two entries in the Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics (1908–26).37 Martin P. Nilsson’s interpretations of first offerings reflect the influence of Frazer and Harrison strongly. He saw magic as some primitive and ‘pre‐deistic’ rites practised before men learnt to pray to the gods, but which nevertheless continued to exist alongside religious (p.16) cults; and the offering of first‐ fruits was one such magical practice which survived in Greek religion. ‘First fruits’, he wrote, ‘are commonly considered as a thank offering to the gods…but like most of the rites and customs discussed here, the offering of first fruits is pre‐deistic and older than the cult of the gods. Its origin is to be found in magic.’ A History of Greek Religion (1925) and Greek Popular Religion (1940) reiterated Page 11 of 24

Introduction many of Frazer’s and Harrison’s notions seen earlier, most notably that agricultural first‐fruits lifted the taboo on eating and transferred an indwelling ‘power’ within the new crop to the people who ate it and to the land. Influenced perhaps by Frazer’s ‘sacrament of first‐fruits’, he saw first‐fruits as a medium through which men entered into communication or communion with supernatural powers. The idea of ‘votive offerings’ as a means of expressing gratitude or winning favour was considered by Nilsson as a later development.38 In his Geschichte der griechischen Religion (1967–87) (third edition), he continued to take agricultural first‐fruits as a means of promoting fertility, but also mentioned in passing that an offering termed aparche, dekate, or akrothinion might be a gift of gratitude (‘Dankgabe’).39 Although Greek religious offerings have been the subject of various studies, aparchai and dekatai are usually subsumed within the framework of ‘votive offerings’ and ‘dedications’. Folkert T. Van Straten’s chapter ‘Gifts for the Gods’ provides a useful study of various kinds of dedications. However, the breadth of his subject precludes systematic treatment of individual types of offerings, with the result that first offerings are assigned no more than two pages, grouped misleadingly under the subheading ‘work’ as if they were specifically a work‐ related phenomenon. His other article on ‘votives and votaries’ passes over the subject of first offerings with no comment.40 Neither Walter Burkert’s nor Jean Rudhardt’s general studies devote more than a few pages to aparchai.41 Christina Soraci assembles literary sources on both religious and non‐religious payments of tithes (not aparchai) in Hebrew, Greek, Roman, and other Mediterranean cultures. The section on Greece collects miscellaneous passages on tithes of booty; (p.17) but she is not concerned with their relation to each other or to other kinds of first offerings, nor is she interested in the practice’s wider significance in Greek religion. In the Thesaurus Cultus et Rituum Antiquorum (2004), Robert Parker provides a succinct but valuable discussion of aparchai and dekatai, accompanied by a useful catalogue of the more illuminating material.42 More recently, Ioanna Patera’s Offrir en Grèce ancienne: gestes et contextes (2012) mentions aparchai and dekatai in the larger context of Greek religious offerings and different modalities of offering. Although she raises similar questions concerning the nature of gift‐giving that will be treated in this study, our emphases and interpretations of the religious practice remain different.43

III. Methods and sources in the present study Given the array of gifts to the gods mentioned at the beginning, how can we identify which ones were first offerings? For a gift to be identified as such, we rely on the survival or restoration of the whole or part of the word aparche or its synonyms in inscriptions, or their description as such by ancient authors in literary sources. This is admittedly not entirely satisfactory, as first offerings not inscribed or described, or inscribed and yet without the word preserved, will inevitably escape our attention. Nevertheless, since ancient and modern Page 12 of 24

Introduction understandings of ‘first‐fruits’ offerings may differ (as will be discussed shortly), in order to avoid imposing our assumptions onto the ancients or neglecting what the Greeks regarded as first offerings and yet do not appear to us as such, it is (p.18) more reliable to base our identification on ancient uses of the words aparche, dekate, and the like in the epigraphic and literary sources. There was probably no consensus among ancient worshippers on this matter either: some of them might have regarded some gifts to the gods as such, whereas others might not. The problem of delineation is further complicated by the possibility that some individuals might have used the word aparche or dekate loosely to signify an ‘offering’ without the sense of a portion; on the other hand, some anathemata might have been intended as first offerings but were not explicitly described as such. Therefore our knowledge of which offerings were first offerings is necessarily incomplete. What were considered by the Greeks as first offerings but have not survived under that description in our sources will unfortunately but unavoidably elude us. In view of this, I shall also take into account offerings not specified as such but which nevertheless contain the two essential characteristics of first offerings: a portion of a greater whole and a preliminary offering expressing the priority of the gods. For example, a fourth‐ century inscription from the town of Thebes at Mount Mycale in Asia Minor requires goatherds to offer a kid from each herd, and shepherds a lamb if there were five new‐born, as koureia (‘shearing offerings’) to Hermes. The young animals may be considered as first offerings since they represented both a portion of the herds and a preliminary share for the god at shearing time.44 When we speak of ‘first‐fruits’, most people will probably think of new crops at harvest time, or the earliest fruits of other human activities. Familiarity with the English term ‘first‐fruits’, however, may obscure important discrepancies between ancient and modern conceptions of the offerings. If we adhere to the principle established above that the identification of first offerings in Greek religion is to be based on ancient usages of the relevant Greek terms, we shall find that the Greek vocabulary of ‘first offerings’ was applied to practices that we may not readily consider as such. Four major types of first offerings may be identified in ancient Greece, namely (i) dedications, (ii) sacrificial offerings, (iii) offerings of food and drink, and (iv) cult payments. Most abundant in our sources are aparchai and dekatai brought to the gods as dedications, which might be ‘raw’ objects normally intended for other purposes, or ‘converted’ dedications (p.19) specially commissioned for the gods using a portion of the proceeds from a variety of human activities. The majority of these were dedicated on an ad-hoc basis when individuals and cities came off well from an enterprise.45 Yet the act of aparchesthai could also apply to blood and bloodless sacrifices. In animal sacrifice it was customary to cut some of the animal’s hair (and sometimes bits of flesh) as a first offering to the gods, and this act was denoted by the word aparchesthai.46 Outside the occasions when a blood sacrifice was performed, individuals might offer a share of their agricultural Page 13 of 24

Introduction produce or daily food (usually vegetarian) and drink to the gods as first offerings.47 Less familiar to us still are perhaps the aparchai or eparchai in the sphere of sacred finance: these were cult fees of fixed sums payable for the use of cult utilities or services, or contributions required of certain categories of individuals, like a tax.48 Finally, if we move from the realm of the historical to the mythical, we shall discover an extraordinary form of first offerings, namely that of human beings. Foundation traditions of some Greek colonies mention persons dedicated to Apollo at Delphi, referring to them as aparchai, dekatai, or akrothinia. These are markedly different from the historical first offerings, by which an individual usually offered part of his goods to the gods but never a living human being. Given their legendary nature and distinctive character, human first offerings will be treated in an appendix. A few preliminary remarks are necessary on the characteristics of first offerings. Aparchai and dekatai were part offerings and preliminary shares for the gods. While the connotation of ‘a portion’ is easily comprehensible, the sense of ‘first’ in ‘first offerings’ is more elusive and may vary from context to context. In the majority of cases it expresses the fact that the gods enjoyed their share first before human utilization of the part not offered; sometimes it may also carry a qualitative sense of ‘the choicest, the best’; and in some cases both. Thus the bits of food and drink offered at the beginning of a meal are examples of the ‘first’ expressing a temporal priority: the gods are given precedence before human consumption of the rest. However, some aparchai and dekatai appear to have been made after a long period of working and saving, and there was nothing that prevented individuals from using the proceeds before giving the gods their (p.20) share; these appear to be simply ‘part offerings’ with a weakened sense of the ‘preliminary’. Military first offerings of spoils, usually termed akrothinia or dekatai, which were set aside for the gods before the booty was further distributed among the army, embody both the priority enjoyed by the deities and the best portion, since etymologically the word akrothinia is derived from ἄκρος (‘topmost’) and θίς (‘heap’), indicating a choice‐offering from the top of a heap. However, first offerings were not necessarily choice offerings. A sacrificial victim’s hair and sometimes bits of flesh in animal sacrifice, or the portions of food and drink at daily meals, were ‘preliminary portions’ but not the finest or best ones. In other words, the quality of being the ‘choicest’ or ‘finest’ is a supplementary but not necessary characteristic of first offerings. In some cases, however, the notions of the ‘first’ (whether in a temporal or qualitative sense) and the ‘portion’ are absent altogether: the above‐mentioned cult payments were simply ‘offerings’ rather than ‘first part offerings’. Despite the varying emphasis of the ‘first’, what is certain is that the ‘first’ does not denote ‘once’ only: there is evidence to suggest that an individual could make repeated dedications of first offerings in his/her lifetime.49 The diversity of first offerings and how their values and connotations overlap with or diverge from one another will emerge in the subsequent chapters. Page 14 of 24

Introduction It is impossible and unimportant for our purpose to trace the ‘origins’ of first offerings; what is certain is that this was a long‐standing practice passed down by tradition in ancient Greece. Private individuals and communities engaged in similar practices with regard to making first offerings, but in different contexts and on rather different scales. By considering both sides of the phenomenon at once, and the possible interactions between individual and communal practices, this study hopes to bridge the traditional division between ‘public’ and ‘private’ in the study of Greek religion. Social convention seems to play a strong role in some circumstances, especially in collective contexts: it was customary to share with the gods at harvest times and in the division of booty. In the vast majority of cases, however, aparchai and dekatai were offered by the Greeks of their own accord.50 There were no regulations stipulating the making of (p.21) first offerings, the portion to be offered, or when to offer them, thus leaving plenty of room for worshippers to make choices and decisions. Contrary to the claim that the Greeks merely followed social conventions without thought, it will emerge that first offerings were products of interactions between tradition and individual initiative. It used to be said that Greek religion was about doing rather than believing. As the apparent concern in Greek religion was the correct performance of rituals instead of what worshippers thought, it is sometimes deemed inappropriate, or irrelevant, to analyse the beliefs and mental disposition of ancient worshippers. Consequently the vast majority of studies of Greek religion in the last century have tended to give primacy to ritual performance over the participants’ state of mind.51 This can be exemplified by Simon Price’s statements in his Rituals and Power (1984), in which he warned us that the pursuit of such questions in Greek and Roman religion is misleading: ‘that is to apply the standards of one religion to the ritual of another society without consideration of their relevance to indigenous standards’, and again in his Religions of the Ancient Greeks (1999): ‘practice not belief is the key, and to start from questions about faith or personal piety is to impose alien values on ancient Greece.’52 Underlying these formulations seems to be the presumption that there exists a sharp contrast between Greek religion, on the one hand, modern and especially Christian religion, on the other: the notion of ‘belief’ is traditionally put on the Christian side of the divide, whereas Greek religion is thought to be concerned primarily with the observance and correct performance of ritual acts. The last decade or so, however, has seen a series of lively debates re‐evaluating the relevance (or irrelevance) of the concept of ‘belief’ to the study of ancient religions.53 Some historians have come to agree that, while there are important discontinuities with ‘belief’ in Christianity—most notably in Greek religion’s lack of scriptures and dogma, and the absence of an organized body of specialists responsible for explaining and disseminating such doctrines—the (p.22) word ‘belief’ need not be loaded with Christian connotations. It can thus serve as an interpretative tool in Greek religion if used in its broad ‘low intensity’ sense,54 Page 15 of 24

Introduction such as that (as will be adopted in the present study) of worshippers’ religious world‐view, presuppositions, and statements (whether conscious or unconscious) about the gods. This study is based on the premisses that the offering of aparchai and dekatai was closely related to, and cannot be studied in isolation from, worshippers’ thoughts or beliefs, and that a close investigation of the Greeks’ religious behaviour can shed important light on their religious presuppositions, hopes and fears, and perception of the gods. By shifting scholarly attention from ritual performance to the mental and psychological, and by tackling the contested concepts of ‘beliefs’ and ‘mentalities’, this study hopes to contribute to these important debates and to demonstrate that without such an approach, much of Greek religion is incomprehensible. Why did the Greeks give aparchai and dekatai to their gods? To what extent was it motivated by pragmatic expectations of return? How valid or accurate is the conventional formula quid pro quo? The study of aparchai and dekatai bears on important issues of the nature of gift‐giving between humans and the divine, and the charis relations that existed between them. Used in an impressive array of contexts, charis is a multivalent concept that has no perfect English translation. Put briefly, it is the idea of giving a pleasing return for a favour received; this process is perpetuated so that it creates a continuous cycle of gifts and counter‐ gifts between the two parties.55 This fundamental value of Greek religion has been all too frequently studied by historians, yet modern scholarship has tended to emphasize the reciprocal aspect of gifts to the gods, encapsulating human– divine charis relations in the formulae do ut des and da ut dem.56 Charis was not, however, merely the reciprocal exchange of goods and services in a mercantile sense, but might also involve elements of mutual goodwill, delight, and gratitude. Nor were the giver and recipient equal (p.23) partners in the process: the gifts exchanged between man and god were of such unequal scales that the essence of charis lies less in the economic value of the gift reciprocated than in the kindly feeling it evoked and the emotional charge it carried. Despite claims to the contrary, there are reasons to think that the Greeks were capable of other, less self‐interested, motivations, such as a sense of indebtedness and gratitude to the gods. Such notions as gratitude and thanksgiving have been curiously neglected in the study of Greek religion, perhaps partly because of the assumption that values ingrained in Christianity did not or could not have existed in Greek religion. The validity of this traditional divide between the ancient and Christian religions needs further consideration and qualification, as does the assumption that gifts to the Greek gods and those to the Christian God are necessarily accompanied by completely different motivations. The extent to which aparchai and dekatai were driven by utilitarian expectations of material returns and other motivations will be discussed in the course of this book.57 Reciprocity has received a great deal of attention from scholars in different disciplines, from anthropology, sociology, and economics to history. By situating the Greek practice in a comparative context and in interdisciplinary studies of Page 16 of 24

Introduction gift‐giving,58 this study will challenge the traditional emphasis on material returns as the central factor underlying gifts to the gods. It will become clear that the charis relation between god and man is never a straightforward matter of give‐and‐take, and that the idea of reciprocity provides a relevant but inadequate understanding of gift‐giving in ancient Greece. Without trying to reduce the custom of aparchai and dekatai to any single explanation, this study will explore different facets of first offerings, investigate possibilities hitherto under‐explored, and contribute towards a more nuanced understanding of the charis relations between humans and the divine. Our knowledge of aparchai, dekatai, and the like comes from a combination of epigraphic, literary, and archaeological evidence. Surviving inscriptional sources are most abundant in the fifth century and dwindle in the following centuries. Although first offerings are attested in different parts of the Greek world, a large proportion of the epigraphic material on aparchai comes from the Athenian acropolis (p.24) and a small cluster from Rhodes, whereas inscriptions mentioning dekatai are more widely diffused and have survived in greater numbers than those concerning aparchai. First offerings dedicated by cities were predominantly, though not exclusively, found in Panhellenic sanctuaries, whereas private individuals usually dedicated in local shrines. Dedicatory inscriptions, which constitute the main source for studying individual worshippers and their offerings, are made up of a combination of one or more of the following components: the individual’s name, the divine recipient, the verb of dedication, the kind of offering (aparche/dekate), the object dedicated, the sculptor, and occasionally the reason for bringing it.59 A small number of them mention a vow previously made and/or pray for divine favours. Unfortunately, most dedicatory inscriptions are frustratingly brief: they tend to give little information (and rarely all the above elements), as if alluding to a customary practice self‐evident to the Greeks and their gods. Our understanding of the material is further hampered by the fact that few of the actual objects have survived, with the result that many dedicatory inscriptions pertaining to first offerings are divorced from their material context. There is an over‐ representation of inscriptions on statue bases of marble or, less often, bronze monuments, whereas objects uninscribed or inscribed on perishable materials will inevitably escape our attention. Therefore we do not have a full spectrum of evidence pertaining to what were offered as aparchai and dekatai. The surviving evidence represents only a small fraction; in reality the offerings must have been far more widespread and abundant than is presented here. First offerings are also mentioned in temple inventories, including those at Delos, Didyma, and Lindos.60 Miscellaneous instances of aparchai, dekatai, and akrothinia are found in the Lindian Chronicle, inscribed in 99 BC to record the dedications that had supposedly once been in the temple of Athena which was destroyed by fire in 392/1 BC. The Chronicle presents special problems because of its unhistorical (p.25) nature and its elements of invented tradition.61 Page 17 of 24

Introduction Nevertheless, the first offerings it mentions, even if imagined, can still offer valuable glimpses into how societies remembered and legitimized certain visions of local history by means of dedications.62 Apart from temple inventories, leges sacrae or ‘sacred laws’ also mention aparchai and dekatai, especially in the contexts of sacrifice and cult finance.63 Inscribed documents may be supplemented by epigrams. The so‐called Anthologia Palatina from the tenth century AD is a collection of epigrams comprising the earlier works compiled by epigram anthologists of different dates.64 Book Six, on dedicatory epigrams (anathematica), contains genuine inscriptions copied from stones along with literary imitations of these, some of which are for first offerings.65 Despite being relatively more informative, they can be difficult to use as the date, original authorship, and provenance of many of them remain uncertain. Most of these epigrams are literary exercises not accompanying any actual dedications, and it is often impossible (for ancient and modern readers alike) to distinguish between literary imitations and genuine inscriptions.66 Since poetic exercise and real dedications could mutually influence each other, and since their mixture is sometimes almost inseparable, both will be considered in the present study. Occasional references to first offerings are found in literary sources such as Homer, Herodotus, Thucydides, comedies and tragedies, (p.26) Arrian, Polybius, and others. Yet ancient historians tend to focus on publicly dedicated first offerings, mostly of spoils, or those from well‐known figures. By contrast, ancient comments on gift‐giving between men and gods are piecemeal and uncommon, and are rarely specific to aparchai and dekatai. They mainly belong to discussions of philosophers, such as Theophrastus and Plato, which may or may not be representative of ordinary Greeks’ opinion.67 Xenophon’s narratives are permeated with references to the gods and religious practices. Most relevant to first offerings is his idea that ‘the gods come first’, a recurrent attitude exemplified more or less consistently in his characters’ dealings with the gods: in Agesilaus, Cyrus, Socrates, and Xenophon himself. Xenophon might have imposed a religious ideal on his heroes, so that his work may not be taken as a reliable record of the historical figures; but the religious attitudes and practices he alludes to are far from unconventional and find plenty of parallels in other Greek sources.68 Comedy and tragedy often contain passages pertaining to ritual practices and the nature of the gods. Comedy often emphasizes the utilitarian nature of human–divine gift‐giving, whereas tragedy tends to play out the darker and dangerous sides of the Greek gods. Although they are not necessarily faithful reflections of reality, comic and tragic representations must have had some resonance for their audience. The relative freedom of speech in the theatre also allowed sentiments to be played out that would have been considered inappropriate in civic contexts or philosophical traditions, and as such they allow

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Introduction us to come closer to the popular religious sentiment of the ancient worshippers.69 This array of ancient sources, together with current approaches to gift‐giving in anthropology and other disciplines, will be exploited in (p.27) the rest of this book to assess the religious beliefs and mentalities of the ancient Greeks. The multifarious nature of gifts to the gods, as we have seen, has fascinated historians and anthropologists for over a century; but any account of the phenomenon will doubtless be sterile and dry unless it considers questions of the mental and psychological. The challenge is therefore to open up new perspectives to prevailing views, to investigate the custom’s complicated relations to the Greeks’ religious world‐view and perceptions of the gods, and ultimately to contribute towards a more nuanced understanding of human–divine relations in ancient Greece. Such an approach will, I hope, bring us another step closer to making sense of the Greeks, the nature of their gods, and their lived religious experience. Notes:

(1) Greek religious offerings have formed the subject of various studies: e.g. sacrifice before battle: Jameson (1991), Parker (2000); pre‐marriage offerings: Dillon (1999), 71–4; appeasement offerings: Rouse (1902), 310–17, Burkert (1996), 152–5; offerings for healing and rescue: Rouse (1902), 187–239, Van Straten (1981), 96–151, Habicht (2001), (2002); gifts by divine command: Nock (1925), 96–7 (45–8 in reprint), Van Straten (1976), esp. 12–13, 21–7, Veyne (1986). (2) In addition to comparable practices in African and Polynesian societies (see Section I), the Old Testament has plenty of references to obligatory offerings of first‐fruits and tithes, and their ritual prescriptions, e.g. Exod. 23: 16, Lev. 2: 14, 23: 10–11, 27: 30–3, Num. 18: 12–13, 28: 26, Deut. 14: 22–9, 26: 5–10, Prov. 3: 9. (3) On vows and ‘votive religion’, see e.g. Rudhardt (1992 [1958]), 187–202, Burkert (1985), 68–70 (revised edn in Burkert (2011), 111–13), Burkert (1987a), 12–17, Pulleyn (1997), 16–38, Kearns (2010), 89, 265–6. On Greek ‘votive’ offerings, see Rouse (1902), Van Straten (1981), (1992). (4) Ar. Av. 1618–19 says that the Birds can help to enforce the fulfilment of vows, implying that many people failed to discharge them; but as Dunbar (1995), 725– 6, notes, this is likely to be comic distortion. (5) E.g. IG I3 705, 735, 773; Keesling (2003), 5–6. (6) These formulae are studied in Lazzarini (1976), 98–101.

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Introduction (7) On the terminology and formulae for sacrifice and dedications, see Rudhardt (1992 [1958]), Casabona (1966), Lazzarini (1976), (1989–90), (1997), Parker (2004a). On ‘raw’ and ‘converted’ offerings, see Snodgrass (1989–90), esp. 291– 2. (8) Bodel (2009), 23–30, distinguishes between ‘topographical space’ (such as sanctuaries) and ‘conceptual space’ (sacred space created by the consecration of an offering elsewhere, such as in households); see Parker (2004a), 270–1. (9) On hymns and choruses, see e.g. Bremer (1981), (1998), 134–7, Kowalzig (2007). (10) See Chapter 8 (on cult payments); Papazarkadas (2011) (on sacred land); Purvis (2003) (on cult foundation). (11) Bodel (2009), 17–30, also discusses the problem of definition; his focus is on ‘sacred dedications’ and therefore leaves out important categories such as animal sacrifice and vegetarian offerings. (12) The focus here will be on ‘first‐fruits’. I have come across few studies on religious tithes in other cultures apart from Lansdell (1906) and Soraci (2002), both of which assemble a selection of sources on tithes in miscellaneous religious cultures. (13) Robertson Smith (1889), 205–25 (on blood and bloodless sacrifice, quotation at 207), 226–50 (on first‐fruits and tithes), 251 ff. (on ‘communion theory’). (14) Mannhardt (1877). His influence on Frazer is mentioned in Frazer (1911– 15), vol. 1, xii–xiii. (15) The result is that The Golden Bough expanded from Frazer (1890), vols 1–2, in the first edition to Frazer (1911–15), vols 1–12, in the third, with an abridged edition, Frazer (1922). (16) ‘Sacrament of first‐fruits’: Frazer (1911–15), vol. 8, 48–86. Taboo: e.g. Frazer (1911–15), vol. 3, 5, vol. 4, 101–2, vol. 8, 56–8. Subsistence of the deity: e.g. Frazer (1911–15), vol. 7, 232–5, vol. 8, 109. Change over time: e.g. Frazer (1911–15), vol. 8, 85–6. (17) A useful list of reviews of her works can be found in Arlen (1990), 28–32. (18) Harrison (1903), ch. 1. The idea of do ut des was already advanced by Tylor (1871) in his ‘gift theory’ and influenced many subsequent discussions on reciprocity between men and gods. (19) Harrision (1903), 36–7, (1912), 292–4; see Chapter 3, n. 3. (20) Taboo: Harrison (1903), 83–4. Mana: Harrison (1912), 136–7, Marett (1914). Page 20 of 24

Introduction (21) Hubert and Mauss (1964 [1899]), esp. 50–60 (quotation at 57); see also 66–7 on agrarian sacrifice. (22) Durkheim (2001 [1912]). (23) Gluckman (1938). Some of his contentions are reiterated in (1954), 26–9 (131–5 in reprint). (24) Gluckman (1954), esp. 11–31 (118–36 in reprint). Gluckman (1963), 18–19, 119, acknowledged that he owed his ‘ritual of rebellion’ theory to the idea of ‘drama of kingship’ in Kuper (1947), 197–225. Bell (1997), 38–40, 52–5, has a good summary of Gluckman’s ideas. (25) Kuper (1947), 197–225; see also Kuper (1952), 45–7. Forde (1949). (26) Firth (1967), ch. 4. (27) Turner (1984), esp. 141. But it is not clear if his interpretation represents the emic point of view. (28) Goode (1951), esp. 108–9, Goldman (1970), esp. 485, 509–11, Kirk (1984), 161 ff., 230 ff. (29) Hammond‐Tooke (1953), Wilson (1961), 404–6. See also Marwick (1940), 192, who mentioned the first‐fruits ceremony among the Swazi as an occasion for the military review of the troops, as well as for other things. (30) Savary (1991–2), esp. 141–4. (31) Snedegar (1998), quotations at 31. (32) I owe this idea to Veyne (2000), 22 (on Greek sacrifice). (33) Frazer occasionally mentioned homage and gratitude in passing, but he seemed to consider them as a later development and a secondary motive. See e.g. Frazer (1911–15), vol. 5, 27, vol. 7, 46–9, vol. 8, 85–6, 109. See also Harrison (1912), 135–7, who regarded the gift element in sacrifice as ‘a late accretion’. The idea that offerings to the gods were appropriate only for ‘higher’ religion was already present in the ‘abnegation theory’ of sacrifice in Tylor (1871), vol. 2, 359–61. (34) Restriction on consumption: e.g. Frazer (1911–15), vol. 3, 5, 102, vol. 4, 101–2, vol. 8, 56–8, Harrison (1903), 83–4, Gluckman (1938), Hammond‐Tooke (1953), and Savary (1991–2). Taboos in some other cultures: e.g. Lang (1901), ch. 14, Webster (1942), esp. 342–3, Steiner (1956). (35) See Chapters 3 and 4.

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Introduction (36) Beer (1914), passim (25–7, 31–4 on vegetation spirits, 28 on the development of the idea of gods). (37) Rouse (1902), 39–94, abbreviated in Rouse (1908–26a) and (1908–26b). (38) Nilsson (1925), 76–104 (88–9 on ‘pre‐deistic’ rites, 92–7 on first‐fruits), (1940), 22–41 (quotation at 28–9). (39) Nilsson (1967–74), vol. 1, 127–8, 134. (40) Van Straten (1981), (1992). (41) Burkert (1979), 52–4, (1985), 66–8 (revised edn in Burkert (2011), 108–11), (1987b), 46, Rudhardt (1992 [1958]), 219–22. (42) Soraci (2002), esp. 337–60 (on Greek tithes), Parker (2004a), esp. 275–8. (43) There are certain overlaps and agreements between Patera (2012), chs 1–2, and the present study: both of us question the supposed ‘desacralization’ function of agricultural first‐fruits, both challenge existing interpretations of gift‐ giving as a form of commercial exchange. Nevertheless, while Patera stresses the unequal relation between man and god, and the charis reciprocated between them, I emphasize man’s debts to and dependence on the divine, and consider gratitude as a possible but hitherto neglected factor. Patera is interested in Greek religious offerings generally, whereas I focus on first offerings with a view to shedding light on larger issues of gift‐giving practices in Greek religion. (44) I.Priene 362 = LSAM 39. (45) See Chapters 5 and 6. (46) See Chapter 1. (47) See Chapters 3 and 4. (48) See Chapter 8. (49) E.g. IG I3 699, 926–32 (see Chapter 5). (50) With the exception of some cases, e.g. a/eparchai in cult finance (see Chapter 8), the aparche (1/60) of allied tribute to Athena, Eleusinian first‐fruits (ML 73), aparchai from certain Milesian colonies (Milet I.3, no. 141). (51) E.g. Deubner (1932), Nilsson (1948), Burkert (1985) (see now revised edn Burkert (2011)), Bremmer (1994). This tendency is also observed by Versnel (1993), 26–7, Harrison (2000), 18, Versnel (2011), 539–46. (52) Price (1984), 10, Price (1999), 3. Page 22 of 24

Introduction (53) Recent discussions of ‘belief’: e.g. Harrison (2000), esp. 20–2, Vernant (2001), Parker (2011), 31–4, Versnel (2011), 539–59 (with additional bibliography at 546 n. 21), Kowalzig and Morgan (forthcoming). (54) Van Baal’s (1976) distinction between ‘low intensity’ and ‘high intensity’ rituals is adopted by Versnel (2011), 548, in relation to the use of the word ‘belief’. (55) On charis and reciprocity in Greek religion, see Festugière (1976), MacLachlan (1993), Bremer (1998), Parker (1998). (56) Such notions are widely accepted, with or without the formulae being used explicitly: e.g. Harrison (1903), Festugière (1976), Burkert (1979), 54, Van Straten (1981), 73, Grottanelli (1989–90), Pulleyn (1997), ch. 2, Parker (1998), esp. 107–8, 111–14, Bremer (1998), 130–1, Kearns (2010), 89–90. (57) See especially Chapter 2. (58) E.g. Mauss (1990 [1925]), Sahlins (1974), Godelier (1999 [1996]). (59) On the formulae and components in dedicatory inscriptions, see Lazzarini (1976), Jacquemin (1995), 141–57, Keesling (2003), 22–35, Parker (2004a), 274– 8. (60) Useful discussions of the Delian temple inventories are e.g. Linders (1988) and Hamilton (2000). Delos: e.g. I.Délos nos 298.A.14, 313.AB.11, 75, 314.B.83 (supplemented), 320.B.42, 58, 338.C.48 (supplemented), 372.B.21–2, 379.12 (supplemented), 442.B.114, 443.B.b.38 (supplemented); IG XI.2 161.B.74–5, 184.6 (supplemented), 199.B.7–8, 244.10 (supplemented), 287.B.42. Didyma: see Chapter 7 nn. 72–3, 75–7. (61) Lindos II, no. 2. Elements of invention: Higbie (2001), (2003) (with a full commentary). (62) Boardman (2002), 115–17, considers the distinction between ‘real’ and ‘invented’ objects unimportant in the Chronicle. As Price (2012 [2008]), 18–19 (168–9 in the original), noted, it is unhelpful to apply the modern distinction between myth and real history to this document. (63) On the category of inscribed documents usually referred to as ‘sacred laws’, see Parker (2004d), Lupu (2009), 3–112, 502–4, with recent reappraisals in Carbon and Pirenne‐Delforge (2012). On epigraphy and Greek religion, see Parker (2012). (64) Namely the Garland (Στέφανος) of Meleager in c.100 BC, the Garland of Philip in c. AD 40 and the Cycle (Κυκλός) of Agathias in the mid‐sixth century AD. Gow–Page, HE, assemble epigrams between 323 BC and c.100 BC collected Page 23 of 24

Introduction in Meleager’s Garland, whereas Gow–Page, GP, collect epigrams between 100 BC and AD 40 in Philip’s Garland and some contemporary epigrams. Page, FGE, contains epigrams down to AD 50 from the Anth. Pal. and other sources. On epigrams, see e.g. Cameron (1993), Bing and Bruss (2007), Livingstone and Nisbet (2010). (65) E.g. Gow–Page, HE, Leonidas of Tarentum, no. 41, Nicaenetus, no. 1, Nicarchus, no. 2, Gow–Page, GP, Apollonides, no. 2, Flaccus, no. 2 = Anth. Pal. 6.196, 225, 238, 285, 288. (66) See Bettenworth (2007), 73–4, Livingstone and Nisbet (2010), 52. (67) In the first century AD, Seneca devoted his entire De Beneficiis to discussing the morality of giving and receiving; but his main concern was with gift‐ exchange in Roman society, especially among the upper classes, though he also alluded to gift‐giving between men and gods. (68) On the religious dimension of Xenophon’s works, see e.g. Anderson (1974), 34–40, Due (1989), 156–8, Gera (1993), 50 ff., Bowden (2004), Parker (2004b), Flower (2012), 203–16. On the Cyropaedia in particular, see Tuplin (1990) and Gera (1993), 55–72, who argue that Xenophon’s Cyrus reflects more Greek than Persian values in religious matters. Boyce (1988) argues for the historical Cyrus’ adherence to Zoroastrianism. (69) On tragedy as a source for studying Greek religion, see Parker (1997), Sourvinou‐Inwood (1997a). The complexity of relations between religion in tragedy and lived religion is discussed in Parker (2009a) and Versnel (2011), 517–25.

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms Theodora Suk Fong Jim

DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.003.0002

Abstract and Keywords This chapter is a semantic analysis of the vocabulary of aparche, aparchesthai, and related terms in ancient Greek. It examines the application of the words in several religious contexts—namely animal sacrifice, bringing dedications, and cult finance—and how the values attached to these terms overlap with or diverge from each other. It will show that the act of offering sacrificial portions and of bringing first offerings as dedications are not as entirely unrelated as they may, at first sight, appear to be: both involve setting aside a portion as a symbolic offering, and both express the precedence accorded to the gods over men. Yet there are important differences between them: in sacrifice the act of aparchesthai anticipates the offering of the whole animal to the gods, whereas in dedicatory practices aparchesthai refer to the portions assigned to the gods, with the rest being retained for human use. Keywords:   aparche, aparchesthai, animal sacrifice, sacrificial portions, dedications

Our investigation of first offerings will begin with a semantic analysis of the vocabulary of aparche, aparchesthai, and related terms in ancient Greek.1 Used in contexts generally considered as distinct, namely animal sacrifice, dedications, and sacred finance, the words may appear to denote completely different or unrelated acts, but in fact they were closely related to each other in complex ways. We shall examine the religious applications of the terms in various contexts and the ways in which their usages coincide with or diverge from each other.2 Literary and epigraphic attestations will be treated together as Page 1 of 30

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms they show no identifiable difference in meaning and usage. It will emerge that varying values and notions were attached to the terminology of ‘first offerings’ in different contexts. A close analysis of its varying emphases can therefore illuminate the nature of sacrificial and dedicatory practices in Greek religion.

(p.29) I. Homeric usages Homer does not use the term aparche; instead he uses the verbs aparchesthai, katarchesthai, and the noun argmata, all of which appear in sacrificial rather than dedicatory contexts.3 ἀπάρχεσθαι

The word aparchesthai is first attested in Homeric sacrifices to refer to the opening sacrificial rite of cutting some of an animal’s hair as a first offering to be burnt in the fire to a god. It appears twice in Homer, in the sacrifices by Nestor and Eumaeus respectively. When Nestor realizes that it was Athena who accompanied Telemachus, he propitiates the goddess by sacrificing a heifer. Nestor ‘began the opening rites with lustral water and barley grains; he prayed earnestly to Athena while cutting off as a first offering some hair from the victim’s head, and throwing it into the fire’ (χέρνιβά τ᾽ οὐλοχύτας τε κατήρχετο, πολλὰ δ᾽ Ἀθήνῃ / εὔχετ᾽ ἀπαρχόμενος, κεφαλῆς τρίχας ἐν πυρὶ βάλλων).4 The participle ἀπαρχόμενος here describes the preliminary rites before the animal’s slaughter, consisting of cutting some of its hair and casting it into the fire. Similar rituals, expressed in more or less the same formula, are found in Eumaeus’ sacrifice. A five‐year‐old boar is brought in to honour his guest (Odysseus in disguise); Eumaeus brings it to the hearth and cuts off some of its hair, which he casts into the fire (ἀπαρχόμενος κεφαλῆς τρίχας ἐν πυρὶ βάλλεν), praying to all the gods for his master’s safe return.5 Then Eumaeus strikes the animal, (p.30) slaughtering and quartering it with the help of the others. He takes bits of raw meat from all the limbs and lays them in rich fat (ὁ δ᾽ ὠμοθετεῖτο συβώτης, / πάντων ἀρχόμενος μελέων, ἐς πίονα δημόν), sprinkles them with barley‐meal, and casts them into the fire.6 Homer here uses archesthai without apo in the same religious sense as aparchesthai, applying it to the cutting of bits of raw flesh (instead of hair) from the animal as first offerings to the gods. Archesthai here expresses the act of ‘offering part of a whole (the limbs)’, whereas omothetein is used of laying the raw pieces resulting from this act of archesthai on rich fat.7 This passage shows that first offerings can also be taken from the animal’s flesh in Homeric sacrifices. Whether the act applies to the animal’s hair or flesh, in both usages the word (ap‐)archesthai carries the same idea of offering ‘part of the whole’ to the gods. ἄργματα

A victim’s hair or portions of its flesh for the gods are never described by the noun aparche/ai in Homer. Where the preliminary offerings of meat are referred to, Homer uses a different but related word: argmata. This is a cognate noun of Page 2 of 30

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms the verb ἄρχω, and a synonym of apargmata and aparchai in later Greek; lexicographers are more or less consistent in equating argmata with aparchai.8 However, Homer (p.31) uses the word only once, in Eumaeus’ sacrifice, and it is uncertain what it refers to: after bits of raw meat are taken from the limbs and burnt in the fire, the rest of the meat is sliced up, roasted on spits, and divided into seven portions, one portion being set aside for the Nymphs and Hermes with a prayer (θῆκεν ἐπευξάμενος), the rest distributed to everyone there.9 In his distribution of the cooked portions, Eumaeus honours Odysseus with the chine of the boar; he then sacrifices offerings termed argmata to the everlasting gods (ἄργματα θῦσε θεοῖσ᾽ αἰειγενέτῃσι) and makes libations.10 Much controversy centres on the word argmata in line 446: it is disputed whether it refers to the preliminary portion of flesh from the limbs burnt in the fire discussed above (lines 427–9), or the share for the Nymphs and Hermes (lines 435–6), or something else.11 Following the natural sequence of the procedures, the share in lines 435–6 is more likely to be meant since the portion in lines 427– 9 has already been burnt. Nothing prevents the portion deposited on the table from (p.32) being burnt in the fire subsequently. Yet some scholars think that the word may also refer to regular offerings of food—here consisting of bits of roasted meat from the portions distributed to Eumaeus himself and his companions—at the beginning of a meal.12 While the precise portions remain uncertain, it is clear that argmata refer to the preliminary shares of sacrificial flesh for the gods. It is noteworthy that more than one set of first offerings are made in various stages of Eumaeus’ actions from different parts of the victim and described by slightly different words: the first portion of the victim’s hair (ἀπάρχεσθαι), first portions of raw flesh from all its limbs (ἄρχεσθαι), and first portions (ἄργματα) of (probably cooked) meat. Regardless of the different portions involved, they all share the same meaning of a preliminary portion of the whole. κατάρχεσθαι

From Homer onwards the compound word katarchesthai refers to the various preliminary rituals at the beginning of an animal sacrifice, meaning to ‘begin the sacrificial ceremonies’.13 The term appears only once in Homer: in the passage cited earlier, Nestor begins the opening rites (κατήρχετο) with lustral water and barley grains for sprinkling on the victim’s head; he then cuts some hair from the victim’s head as a first offering (ἀπαρχόμενος) and casts it into the fire as he prays to Athena.14 Homer seems to distinguish between katarchesthai and aparchesthai, using the former with respect to the rites of hand‐washing and sprinkling barley, and the latter for cutting the victim’s hair.15 In post‐Homeric usages it is not always clear what procedures are comprised in katarchesthai. However, as far as the present (and only) Homeric passage is concerned, the term is restricted to the use of lustral water (χέρνιψ) and barley grains (οὐλοχύται or οὐλαί), and does not apply to the cutting of hair.

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms (p.33) II. Post‐Homeric usages ἀπάρχεσθαι

After Homer, aparchesthai continued to denote the sacrificial rite of taking some of the animal’s hair or flesh as first portions for the gods.16 But the act of aparchesthai could also apply to the animal’s entrails. This is how Herodotus describes the Scythians’ sacrificial rites: since there was no wood in Scythia with which to make a fire, the Scythians strangled and skinned the animal; they then made a fire using its bones and boiled the flesh in the animal’s paunch. When the meat was cooked, the person performing the sacrifice took portions of the flesh and entrails of the animal and threw them in front (ὁ θύσας τῶν κρεῶν καὶ τῶν σπλάγχνων ἀπαρξάμενος ῥίπτει ἐς τὸ ἔμπροσθε).Here the scene is Scythian but the terminology is Greek, and the act of aparchesthai applies to both the flesh and the splanchna.17 A fourth‐century sacrificial calendar from Cos has a possible but uncertain reference to first offerings of entrails. The regulations concerning the sacrificial portions for Asia are as follows: [‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ θ]ύοντι δὲ δύο θυώνας ποιήσαντε[ς] 10 [ἴσας τῶν τε κρεῶν] κ̣αὶ τῶν σπλάγχνων, καὶ τὰς θυ‐ [ώνας τίθεντι ἐπὶ β]ω̣μοῦ· ὅπει δὲ τᾶι Ἀσίαι ἐπιτίθεν̣[τι] [‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐]ρ̣ξάμενοι καὶ τῶν σπλάγχνω[ν] [‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐] κ̣αὶ τοῦ λίθου τοῦ ἐν ταῖς ἐλα̣[ίαις] [ἁψάμενοι ὄμνυντι· ‐ ‐]18 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ They [sa]crifice when they have made two [equal] sacrificial portions [of meat] and of entrails, and they [place] the sacri[ficial portions on the a]ltar. Where they plac[e] to Asia ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ [having made fi]rst offerings of the entrails ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ they also [touch] the stone in the oli[ves] [as they take the oath].

(p.34) The fragmentary nature of the text makes it difficult to ascertain the construction of lines 11–13 which concern us here. Herzog, followed by Sokolowski, Rhodes and Osborne, and the recently published IG XII.4, supplemented line 12 as ἐπα]ρ̣ξάμενοι καὶ τῶν σπλάγχνω[ν]. This is untenable as eparchai and eparchesthai never apply to sacrificial practice in Classical usage on the evidence presently available. Pirenne‐Delforge suggests κατα]ρξάμενοι instead of ἐπα]ρ̣ξάμενοι; yet the difficulty is that, as we shall see later, katarchesthai always refers to the pre‐killing stage in animal sacrifices and therefore cannot apply to entrails.19 If it is correct to take τῶν σπλάγχνω[ν] as being governed by the preceding verb ending in ‐ρ̣ξάμενοι, the most likely supplement would be ἀπα]ρ̣ξάμενοι. The Herodotean passage and possibly the Coan calendar demonstrate that, despite the difference in the part (hair, flesh, or entrails) of the victim from which the first offerings were taken, the act of

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms aparchesthai continued to refer to offering ‘part of the whole’ in sacrificial rites as it did in Homer. The offering of hair by humans on various occasions is also referred to by aparchesthai.20 In rituals of mourning, it was customary to cut a lock or locks of hair to place upon the corpse or grave; this act is referred to by the word aparchesthai. Euripides describes how Electra shed tears and cut some hair (δάκρυά τ᾽ ἔδωκα καὶ κόμης ἀπηρξάμην) at Agamemnon’s tomb in mourning for him. The custom is already attested in Homer, although the term is not used.21 The word can also apply to hair‐offering in rites of maturation: on attaining manhood or womanhood, boys and girls would cut a lock or locks of their hair to dedicate to some deity or river.22 In both contexts the offering of hair by human beings intersects with the practice of cutting a sacrificial animal’s hair before killing it, as if cutting a human being’s hair is an act of aparchesthai of the self. In contrast to animal sacrifice, however, where the cutting of hair anticipates the (p.35) slaughter and the offering of the whole animal, the person is not sacrificed after human hair‐offerings. The hair offered may be considered as a token offering, symbolizing or replacing the offering of the whole person.23 Somewhat different from ordinary Greek use is Theophrastus’ employment of the word aparchesthai in his fourth‐century treatise De Pietate or Περὶ εὐσεβείας (On Piety), quoted later in Book Two of Porphyry’s De Abstinentia ab esu animalium (On Abstinence from Eating Animals).24 In several cases Theophrastus uses aparchesthai to express the whole act of sacrifice without reference to any specific preliminary procedures, so that there is a blurring of meaning between aparchesthai and thuein.25 For example, he says that offerings should be made to the gods by reason of honour, gratitude, and for want of good things, so that ‘even with animals, if they should be offered to the gods, they should be sacrificed for one of these reasons’ (καὶ τῶν ζῴων, εἰ ἀπαρκτέον αὐτὰ θεοῖς, τούτων τινὸς ἓνεκα θυτέον). Here ἀπάρχεσθαι τῶν ζῴων is essentially the same as θύειν τὰ ζῷα.26 When he condemns human sacrifice, he speaks of σφῶν αὐτῶν ἀπήρξαντο τοῖς θεοῖς, meaning not ‘making first offerings of themselves’ but ‘making sacrifice from among themselves’.27 This identification of aparchesthai with thuein is perhaps deliberate, since (p.36) Theophrastus deplores animal sacrifice as unholy and elevates agricultural first‐fruits and bloodless offerings above animal sacrifice. ἀπαρχή

Etymologically ἀπαρχή is made up of the preposition ἀπό (‘from’) and the verb ἄρχω (‘begin’) or the cognate noun ἀρχή (‘beginning’), and may be understood as ‘a preliminary offering from a greater whole’.28 Aparchai might be offered from agricultural produce, the hunting (and sale) of animals, food, hair, booty, earnings from work, wealth, or proceeds from any other enterprise.29 Its cognate verb aparchesthai may be used in dedicatory practices to refer to the act of presenting a preliminary share to the gods from a greater whole. Page 5 of 30

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms Aparchesthai may be accompanied by a qualifying genitive expressing the source from which the offering was made, but it may also be used absolutely without any indication of the source.30 The earliest literary attestation of the noun aparche is in Herodotus, who uses aparche/ai three times in dedicatory contexts.31 Used most commonly for dedications, in isolated instances aparche also applies to sacrifice. In Euripides’ lost play Meleager, which concerns the consequences of Oeneus’ failure to offer aparchai of his harvest to Artemis, he is described as ‘sacrificing first‐fruits’ (θύων ἀπαρχάς) to the gods (but not Artemis). The offering of aparchai is here closely related to sacrifice.32 In Sophocles’ The Women of (p.37) Trachis, Heracles offers a literal hecatomb to the gods, a grand sacrifice of 100 animals consisting of a mixed herd, of which twelve bulls are killed first as ‘the pick of the booty’ (ἀπαρχὴ λείας).33 The word aparche may be understood in two senses here: the twelve bulls are the choicest and the first ones to be sacrificed to the gods among the 100 animals; they also represent a portion of the revenue derived from Heracles’ military enterprise. In both the Euripidean and Sophoclean passages the word aparche refers to a sacrifice offered using part of a greater source of revenue, but not the part of the victims offered to the gods. There is no Classical example of aparche expressing a preliminary share of sacrificial flesh for the gods. A rare instance where aparche possibly refers to a sacrificial portion is a recently published Hellenistic lex sacra from the city of Patara in Lycia which requires worshippers who sacrifice to offer an aparche from each animal to the priest: τοὺς θὺοντας | Διὶ Λαβραύνδωι | ἤ τῶν ἐντεμενίων θεῶν τινι | διδόναι τῶι ἱερεῖ ἀπαρχήν | ἀφ᾽ ἑκάστου ἱερεου πλάτα ἴσον· | ἄλλωι δὲ μηθενὶ ἐξέστω συναγωγὴν | ποιεῖσθαι μηδὲ καταλύειν | ἐμ τῶι τεμένει πλὴν τῶν θυόντων.34 Those who sacrifice to Zeus Labraundos or to any of the gods in the precinct are to give to the priest an aparche from each victim πλάτα ἴσον. No one else is allowed to hold a gathering or to lodge in the precinct except for those who sacrifice. It is uncertain what the obscure phrase πλάτα ἴσον means.35 The practice in question is different from the sacrificial custom of offering some hair or flesh to the gods as a preliminary portion, an act denoted by the verb aparchesthai as we have seen earlier. Instead of a traditional preliminary portion for the gods, what is referred to here is a priestly perquisite. Often when an animal sacrifice was performed in ancient Greece, the officiating priest (and/or other religious officials) (p.38) would be entitled to certain sacrificial portions. These priestly prerogatives were usually prescribed in leges sacrae in order to ensure the Page 6 of 30

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms officials their due and a source of finance for the cult.36 However, it is untypical and without parallel to term a priestly portion an aparche, though the word may denote a cult payment in kind or in cash (for various purposes and not exclusively a ‘priestly portion’), a phenomenon that we shall discuss in Chapter 8. The text from Patara may be compared to a passage in Lycophron’s Alexandra, where Cassandra refers to Hector’s piety in life and many animal sacrifices to Zeus. If it is correct to understand ἀπαρχαὶ θυμάτων as ‘first offerings of sacrifices’ (here set aside for the gods, not the priests), this would be another rare instance where aparche denotes a preliminary sacrificial portion in the Hellenistic period.37 As far as the Classical period is concerned, there are no attestations of aparche referring to a preliminary portion of sacrificial victims. In some cases where there is no specification of the source of an aparche (or its synonyms) by a qualifying genitive, the idea of a portion is less obvious and the word may resemble an ‘offering’ or anathema. A fourth‐century aparche dedicated by one Bacchios for being ‘crowned by the members of his association’ seems to be simply a dedication: [Β]άχχιος τῆι Ἀθην[ᾶι] | τεῖ Ὀργάνηι ἀπαρχὴν | ἀνέθηκεν στεφανω|θεὶς ὑπὸ τῶν θιασωτῶν (‘[B]acchios dedicated an aparche to Athen[a] Organe having been crowned by the members of his association’).38 There are many other examples where aparche is not accompanied by a genitive.39 Nevertheless, unlike in Bacchios’ case, the lack of contextual information often makes it difficult to tell whether the aparche is a first offering or simply an offering without a partial sense, and it is possible that a genitive is implied. (p.39) ἀπάργματα

Unlike aparchai, the less common term apargmata might denote a preliminary portion of sacrificial flesh for the gods. We have seen that Homer uses the word argmata of sacrifice, but after Homer we find apargmata instead, used in connection with both sacrificial and dedicatory practices. A fifth‐century lex sacra from Selinus stipulates that, for the pure Tritopatores, a table and a couch are to be laid on which should be placed olive wreaths, honey mixture in new cups, cakes, and meat. First portions are to be taken (presumably from the cakes and meat on the table) and burnt, and anointment is to be performed after the cups are placed (κἀπαρξάμενοι κατακαάντο καὶ καταλινάντο τ̣ὰς ποτερίδας ἐνθέντες) (lines 15–16). For Zeus Meilichios, worshippers are to take out the public hiara,40 set out a table, and burn the thigh, the apargmata from the table, and the bones of a ram (καὶ ϙολέαν καὶ τἀπὸ τᾶς τραπέζας : ἀπάργματα καὶ τὀστέα κα[τα]κᾶαι) (lines 19–20).41 We have here a theoxenia where food and drinks are set on a table before images of the gods.42 The acts of aparchesthai (lines 15–16) and of taking apargmata (line 19) are very likely to be related; both rituals seem to involve taking samples of the food on the table and burning them as first offerings to the gods before the rest is consumed.43 A late inscription, perhaps from Tlos in Lycia, has a probable sacrificial reference to apargmata: Neoptolemos or the one who rented the field was to sacrifice, each year at the Page 7 of 30

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms necropolis, a castrated yearling goat costing fifteen denarii and a flat cake and to burn the apargmata (θ̣ύσει δὲ κατ᾽ ἔτος ἐν ταῖς ληνοῖς Νεοπτόλεμος ἤ ὁ ἐκφοριωνῶν τὸν ἀργὸν τομίαν αἶγ᾽ ἔτηον ιε καὶ πλακοῦντα κ̣αρποῦντες τὰ ἀπάργματα̣).44 If it is correct to understand the apargmata here as the god’s portion from the animal (the rest was (p.40) presumably to be eaten), it will be comparable to the Homeric use of the word argmata in Eumaeus’ sacrifice seen earlier.45 Aristophanes’ Peace has a reference to apargmata which deserves our attention. After Trygaeus has rescued the goddess Peace and a sacrifice is being prepared, the chresmologos (‘oracle‐monger’) Hierocles comes uninvited to claim a share: Ἄγε νυν ἀπάρχου κᾆτα δὸς τἀπάργματα (‘come now, separate the first share and then give it to me’).46 What the apargmata would have consisted of is a matter of conjecture: they could have been a portion of sacrificial flesh by analogy with the argmata in Eumaeus’ sacrifice, or a portion of the sheep’s splanchna and tongue which Hierocles desires. Influenced perhaps by the scholia, according to which the apargmata are ‘the aparchai which the priests are accustomed to take’ (τὰς ἀπαρχὰς, ἃς εἰώθασιν οἱ ἱερεῖς λαμβάνειν), Sommerstein and Olson explain that apargmata were offered to the gods and then passed on to the priests.47 However, as far as the Classical period is concerned, there is no evidence that aparchai or apargmata for the gods would be passed on to the priests or diviners who officiated at a sacrifice. Priestly perquisites were usually termed ἱερεώσυνα and γέρα; or certain parts of the animal (such as the animal’s skin, tongue, and leg) might be specified as belonging to the priests without using these terms. The priests might also be allowed to take τραπεζώματα (‘table‐offerings’), which were the gods’ portions deposited on the table,48 but never apargmata or aparchai in the Classical period.49 When Hierocles claims the first share termed apargmata, the comic effect is (p.41) to dramatize his greed: the chresmologoi were a particular subject for ridicule in Aristophanes. Later in the same scene Hierocles is shown as trying to beg and then snatch unsuccessfully a portion of the wine, the splanchna, and the tongue.50 Therefore the passage cannot be taken as evidence for a regular practice of giving apargmata or aparchai to religious officials. Instead it was a mockery of the greedy chresmologos, who desires the portion reserved for the gods alone: both aparchesthai and apargmata in Aristophanes’ Peace refer to the god’s share which should not go to religious officials. As early as perhaps the sixth century BC, the word apargma was used in dedicatory inscriptions. A fragmentary roof tile discovered in Histria on the western coast of the Black Sea, dedicated to Aphrodite in perhaps the first half of the sixth century, is inscribed: Ἀφροδίτηι ἀνέθηκεν Εχ.λ̣ε………ἄπαργμα (‘Ech.le…(name?) dedicated apargma to Aphrodite’).51 The tile comes from the site identified as the archaic temple of Aphrodite. We are left wondering whether it was dedicated by a craftsman involved in its construction, or by an individual after the temple was destroyed using its remaining material, or whether it comes Page 8 of 30

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms from a neighbouring building which used similar roof tiles.52 If its dating may be relied upon (before c.550 BC?), this is probably the earliest epigraphic attestation of the word apargma. Several other dedicatory usages of the word are found in different parts of the Greek world. In the sanctuary of Athena at Ialysus on Rhodes, at least two Attic vessels are inscribed with the word apargma; Martelli thinks that it may denote some local variant of the more common aparche.53 A fragmentary fifth‐century dedicatory (p.42) inscription on the Athenian acropolis has been supplemented with the word [ἄρ]γ̣ματα, or more probably [ἀπάρ]γ̣ματα.54 κατάρχεσθαι

In Nestor’s sacrifice seen earlier, the act of katarchesthai involves hand‐washing and sprinkling barley grains on the animal; the word is used with χέρνιψ (‘lustral water’) and οὐλοχύται (‘barley grains’) in the accusative.55 In later Greek uses, however, katarchesthai is more often followed by a genitive object,56 meaning ‘to begin a sacrifice’ or more precisely ‘to begin sacrificing (a particular victim)’. It is not always clear what ritual procedures are comprised in katarchesthai, especially when the word is used absolutely without any qualifying object. For example, Herodotus notes that the Scythian custom of sacrifice involves no rite of katarchesthai: the person performing the sacrifice throws the animal down by pulling the end of a rope, invokes the god, and strangles the animal by twisting a rope around its neck; he then skins and sets about cooking it. There is ‘no fire nor preliminary rites of sacrifice nor libation’ (οὔτε πῦρ ἀνακαύσας οὔτε καταρξάμενος οὔτ᾽ ἐπισπείσας).57 Herodotus is remarking on the absence of ritual beginning (katarchesthai) in the Scythian practice when compared to Greek sacrifice, but it is unclear what preliminary rites Herodotus has in mind.58 The same ambiguity is found in other absolute uses of the word, where it means ‘to begin a sacrifice’ vaguely without making clear what precisely is involved.59 While Homeric usage of katarchesthai excludes the cutting of hair, in Classical Greek literature the word is applied to hair‐offering in one instance. When Thanatos is about to take Alcestis to Hades, he (p.43) thus explains his actions: στείχω δ᾽ ἐπ᾽αὐτὴν ὡς κατάρξωμαι ξίφει: ἱερὸς γὰρ οὗτος τῶν κατὰ χθονὸς θεῶν ὅτου τόδ᾽ ἔγχος κρατὸς ἁγνίσῃ τρίχα (‘I am going to her so as to begin the rites with the sword. This person is dedicated to the gods below the earth, the hair of whose head this blade hallows’). Here katarchesthai, followed by the instrumental dative ξίφει, refers to the opening rite of cutting some hair using a sword.60 In another Euripidean passage, however, a different preliminary rite is referred to. The word used for Iphigenia’s priestly duty in Tauris is katarchesthai: she performs the opening sacrificial rites of the shipwrecked victims, but others slaughter the victims.61 By inference from her sacrificial role described elsewhere in the play, we know that katarchesthai involves the sprinkling of lustral water and possibly barley grains on the victim’s head.62 This coincides with the (p.44) Homeric use of the word discussed earlier. The act of ‘beginning a sacrifice’ (katarchesthai) appears to have been the main function of Page 9 of 30

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms the officiating priest in Greek sacrifice,63 and was charged with greater religious significance than the subsequent slaughtering of an animal.64 These different uses have led to scholarly disputes about what the act of katarchesthai entails precisely.65 It emerges from the above analysis that katarchesthai involves no fixed action, and that the preliminary ritual procedure(s) referred to can vary in different sacrificial contexts. Yet the most important distinction between katarchesthai and aparchesthai is that aparchesthai (‘taking a portion from a greater whole’) can apply to any stage of the sacrifice and any portion (whether hair or flesh, raw or cooked) of the sacrificial victims, whereas katarchesthai applies only to the pre‐killing stage and therefore never refers to sacrificial flesh. Nevertheless, it is sometimes difficult to distinguish between katarchesthai and aparchesthai. When Aristophanes’ Dicaeopolis tells his daughter to put down the basket (containing barley grains and the sacrificial knife) so that they may begin the sacrifice (ἵν᾽ ἀπαρξώμεθα), the word used is aparchesthai where we might expect katarchesthai. By contrast, Euripides uses katarchesthai in connection with the cutting of Alcestis’ hair, (p.45) where we would expect aparchesthai.66 Therefore, when used absolutely in sacrificial contexts, sometimes the words katarchesthai and aparchesthai seem to intersect or coincide.67 But when followed by a genitive object, katarchesthai usually means to perform an initial act—whatever it may be in the pre‐killing stage—on the sacrificial victim, while aparchesthai means to offer a preliminary portion of a greater whole.68 ἀκροθίνιον

In the Classical period (not in Homer) we find the word ἀκροθίνιον in the singular, and more frequently in the plural ἀκροθίνια. Etymologically it is derived from ἄκρος (‘topmost’) and θίς (‘heap’), indicating a choice‐offering from the top of a heap. The singular forms ἀκρόθις and ἀκροθίνιον appear to have the same meaning. The word ἀκρόθινα is the accusative singular of ἀκρόθις; it is also a variant of ἀκροθίνια (the neuter plural of ἀκροθίνιον).69 Euripides describes the captive Phoenician women as ἀκροθίνια Λοξίαι, chosen by the city as a most beautiful offering for Loxias.70 Contrary to the scholia on this passage, which explain ἀκροθίνια as ‘properly first‐fruits of crops from the heap, which is the heap on the threshing floor; first offerings of spoils too are wrongly described so’,71 the word ἀκροθίνιον applies predominately to spoils and rarely to agricultural produce. It is frequently used for spoils in military contexts, where it may be understood as ‘first offerings of wars’ or ‘the best of the spoils’, whereas the less common verb ἀκροθινιάζομαι (p.46) refers to the act of ‘taking first offerings from the spoils’.72 Examples abound of military ἀκροθίνια: Pindar describes the Olympic festival as the ἀκρόθινα πολέμου established by Heracles.73 The Athenian treasury at Delphi has a base bearing this inscription: Ἀθεναῖοι τ[ο̑]ι Ἀπόλλον[ι ἀπὸ Μέδ]ον ἀκ[ροθ]ίνια τε̑ς

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms Μαραθ[ο̑]νι μ[άχες] (‘the Athenians to Apollo [from the Med]es as fir[st off]erings from the b[attle] of Marath[o]n’).74 Although taken predominantly from battles, akrothinia could also come from other activities. A fragment doubtfully attributed to Pindar refers to akrothinia of the catch of the sea and of the mountains (πολλοῖς μὲν ἐνάλου, ὀρείου δὲ πολλοῖς ἄγρας ἀκροθίνια), in other words, of fishing and hunting. Later Diodorus Siculus speaks of the akrothinia of Actaeon’s hunt (ἀκροθινίων ἐκ τῶν κυνηγίων). A third‐century dedication from Elateia is described as ἐξ ὁσίων ἔργων ἀκροθίν̣[ιον] (‘akrothin[ion] from pious work’), but the dedicator does not explain what his ‘pious work’ was.75 A law of the gentilicial group of the Labyadai at Delphi in the fifth or fourth century has a reference to an ἀκρόθις: ταίδε θυσίαι Λαβυαδᾶν· τὠπελλαίου μηνὸς τῶ Διονύσωι, Βουκατίοις τῶι Δὶ πατρώιωι καὶ τὠπόλλωνι τὰν ἀκρόθινα (‘these are the sacrifices of the Labyadai: in the month Apellaios to Dionysus, at the feast of the Boukatia the first offering to Zeus Patroos and to Apollo’). It is unclear what the ἀκρόθις entails; but some scholars think that agricultural first‐fruits are meant.76 The word can also apply to human victims: Croesus is described as the akrothinion which Cyrus intends to sacrifice to some god, either to fulfil a vow or to test if any god would come to Croesus’ rescue. Euripides refers to Orestes and Pylades, who are about to be sacrificed, as Ἑλλήνων ἀκροθίνια, probably meaning ‘the pick of the Greeks’.77 (p.47) δεκάτη

A δεκάτη is literally a tithe or a tenth part.78 In its religious applications the word refers most frequently to a tithe offered voluntarily to the gods; it can also refer to a cult payment required of certain categories of people, such as tenants of sacred land.79 The word is also used widely in secular taxations, customs duties, and other non‐religious payments.80 Like akrothinion, it is most frequently used for offerings of a military nature; but dekatai could also be offered from agricultural produce, (the sale of) animals, (the profits of) a voyage, work, wealth, and other sources;81 and they could be in kind or in cash.82 In dedicatory inscriptions dekate usually appears in the accusative with a qualifying genitive indicating the source from which the tithe was taken, but in isolated examples we find dekate expressed in the genitive. An inscription dated to the sixth or fifth century from Thebes reads Δὶ Ὁμολοΐοι Ἀγιμώνδας ἀπὸ δεκά[τας] (‘Agimondas to Zeus Homoloios from his ti[the]’).83 The dedicator probably wanted to express the fact that the object was paid for from a tithe. (p. 48) The word occurs predominantly in dedicatory rather than sacrificial contexts. Contrary to Chantraine’s view that the word is used notably on the occasion of sacrifices or in fiscal matters,84 dekatai is never used to describe sacrificial victims or parts of the victims offered to the gods, although sacrifices might be performed using a tithe of the proceeds from an activity.85

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms δεκατεύειν

The cognate verb δεκατεύειν normally means to offer a tithe from a greater whole. This act usually applies to goods, revenue, booty, or agricultural produce.86 In isolated instances, however, it applies also to cities and people, and carries different connotations vis‐à‐vis its normal uses. According to Herodotus, the Greeks swore an oath before Thermopylae during the Persian Wars ‘to tithe all the Greeks who had surrendered to the Persians without compulsion to the god in Delphi after the successful conclusion of the war’ (ὅσοι τῷ Πέρσῃ ἔδοσαν σφέας αὐτοὺς Ἕλληνες ἐόντες, μὴ ἀναγκασθέντες, καταστάντων σφι εὖ τῶν πρηγμάτων, τούτους δεκατεῦσαι τῷ ἐν Δελφοῖσι θεῷ).87 Some commentators understand dekateuein as the usual practice of dedicating a tenth of goods or property to the god with no further penalty exacted.88 However, the normal tithing of property is considered by others as too mild in this context. By analogy with the treatment of traitors or the defeated in other historical accounts,89 How and Wells argued for a graver consequence: the total destruction of the cities, with the population sold into slavery and all goods and lands confiscated, and from the proceeds of all this a tenth would be dedicated to (p.49) the god.90 On this view, the word still retains the usual meaning of giving the gods a tenth of a greater whole while the rest was retained; yet the act of tithing implies the total destruction and confiscation—but not total dedication—of the medizing cities. The difficulties in defining what ‘tithing’ a city involves are illustrated well in a late source: Livy tells us that Camillus vowed to Apollo a tithe of the spoils in the event of successfully taking the city of Veii. However, after Veii was captured, not only were the people reluctant to discharge their obligation, there were also disagreements in the senate as to whether the tithe should be of movables only or of the captured city along with its territory.91 Xenophon twice uses the word δεκατευθῆναι in connection with Thebes. In the renewal of the peace in 371 BC, the Athenians hoped that the Thebans would be subject to δεκατευθῆναι. Later, in 369 BC, when the Spartan ambassadors suggested that Thebes could δεκατευθῆναι should Athens and Sparta collaborate, the suggestion revived in the Athenian assembly the memory of the Theban proposal to destroy Athens in 404 BC.92 Both passages seem to hint at some rather savage treatment of the Thebans. Instead of simply ‘taking a tithe from’ Thebes, Parke argues that the city itself would have been treated as a tithe and consecrated to the gods in its entirety through its total destruction.93 Accordingly, dekateuein would effectively signify ‘to destroy’ or ‘to decimate’94 completely without its usual partial connotation. In penal tithing the word might have taken on a more serious connotation of total devastation. The rhetoric of ‘tithing’ a city illustrates how a religious pretext might be sought for a secular act of vengeance.

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms An interesting extension of the word δεκατεύειν is to female rites of maturation. Harpocration adduces a lost speech of Demosthenes Against Medon, which seems to have concerned an heiress, as mentioning οὐ δεκατεῦσαι ταύτην οὐδὲ μυῆσαι, literally ‘not to tithe her (p.50) nor to initiate her’. Harpocration then cites Didymus as saying that δεκατεῦσαι (‘to tithe’) is equivalent to ἀρκτεῦσαι (‘to be a bear’).95 The ritual in question is a female rite of passage at the cult of Artemis at Brauron and Mounichia, in which Attic girls imitated the bear (ἀρκτεύειν) before marriage and were said to be consecrated to Artemis.96 Accordingly, dekateuein probably means ‘to consecrate her [to serve as a bear] as a tithe’ in this context. But in what sense may arkteuein (‘to be bear’) be considered as analogous to dekateuesthai (‘to be tithed’)? Hesychius and the Etymologicum Magnum similarly explain dekateuein as a female ritual related to Artemis, performed when maidens were about ten years old: ‘they also called arkteuein dekateuein, since maidens who were around the age of ten (περὶ τὸν δεκαετῆ χρόνον) performed it.’97 This association between dekateuein and dekatos chronos is misleading: evidence has come to light that suggests that maidens from a wide age‐range underwent this rite. It is preferable to see arkteuein as equivalent to dekateuesthai in that both cases involve a chosen portion. Although most sources imply that no Athenian girl might marry before she had become a bear in Artemis’ service, it is by now generally agreed that only selected girls could participate,98 making it likely therefore that the girls chosen for the arkteia represented all the maidens. In this special use, as in its normal applications, the act of dekateuein involves a part of a greater whole. δέκατος

The Cyrene Cathartic Law in the late fourth century uses the adjective dekatos in a sense not fully understood by historians. As is characteristic of most leges sacrae, it assumes prior knowledge about the cult practice concerned which we do not possess. The law contains a series (p.51) of clauses about individuals or property which are dekatoi, and makes recurrent references to the purification required of a person or property and of the shrine, the valuation of the person or property, and a penalty sacrifice, followed by the sacrifice of the tithe itself. The adjective dekatos here may be understood as ‘subject to payment of a tithe’;99 yet the nature of the tithes and the circumstances under which they were acquired remain extremely obscure. These tithes appear to be closely related to pollution and penalties, but it is uncertain whether a tithe was a consequence of pollution, or whether this followed from a failure to pay a tithe.100 What seems likely is that we have here not the normal tithes voluntarily offered to the gods, but obligations or punishments incurred under particular circumstances. ἐπάρχεσθαι and ἐπαρχή

In the Classical and Hellenistic periods, the words eparche and eparchesthai, along with aparche and aparchesthai, were used in sacred finance to signify ‘a religious payment’ (in cash or in kind) and ‘to make a religious payment’ to the gods. As we shall discuss in Chapter 8, these could be cult fees payable for Page 13 of 30

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms sacrificing or seeking cure in a sanctuary,101 or obligatory contributions required of certain categories of individuals.102 Both forms aparche/aparchesthai and eparche/eparchesthai are used, and sometimes interchangeably in (p.52) the same text.103 But it is only in the context of cult finance, and not in ordinary sacrificial or dedicatory practices, that eparchai and eparchesthai are attested. The confusion between the similar‐sounding aparchai/aparchesthai and eparchai/ eparchesthai may be facilitated by the presence of the word eparchesthai in Homer, where it is used in connection with rituals of drinking.104 The replacement of the prefix apo with epi seems to reflect a diminished awareness of the words’ partial connotation over time. Instead of ‘first part offerings’, these a/eparchai are simply ‘offerings’ or ‘cult payments’, with a much weakened sense of a ‘first portion’.

III. Aparchai and Dekatai Although both aparchai and dekatai (along with their synonyms) are referred to as ‘first offerings’ throughout this study, there are several identifiable differences between them. Both aparchai and dekatai are part offerings that may be taken from a variety of sources; but dekate is used predominantly (though not exclusively) of spoils, whereas aparche only rarely applies to military offerings.105 Compared to dekate, aparche carries a greater sense of beginning or priority because of its root ἄρχω. More importantly, dekate is used widely in secular contexts, such as in relation to taxation and other non‐religious payments, whereas aparche is used invariably with a religious significance: not even in the sphere of cult finance does it lose its sacred character. Aparchai and dekatai differ further in their proportion. An aparche is a random proportion not normally specified, whereas a dekate is literally a tenth, though we do not know if every dekate was (p.53) necessarily a real tenth. A sixth‐ century dedication on the Athenian acropolis is illuminating in this respect. Two small statues of different sizes, representing an aparche and a dekate brought by two individuals respectively, stand on the same rectangular marble base bearing this inscription: Λυσίας ἀνέθεκεν Ἀθεναίαι | ἀπαρχέν. Εὐάρχις ἀνέθεκεν | δεκάτεν Ἀθεναίαι (‘Lysias dedicated to Athena an aparche. Euarchis dedicated a dekate to Athena’).106 Of the two round cuttings on the inscribed base, it is generally agreed that the larger cutting on the viewer’s right‐hand‐side held an under‐life‐size marble kore (Acr. no. 683), whereas the cutting on the left, with its diameter just over half of that of the other cutting, probably once held another much smaller kore which is now lost.107 Following Keesling, if we view both the inscription and the statues from left to right, it would seem that the smaller kore on the left represents the aparche by Lysias, and the larger one on the right represents the dekate by Euarchis. The pair of statues appear to have been arranged in a way that would encourage the viewer to compare their different sizes and values. It is probable that Lysias and Euarchis had commissioned their offering from the same source of revenue, with Lysias’

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms aparche constituting a smaller sum (and percentage if the revenue was of equal value to both) than Euarchis’ dekate. Despite these identifiable differences, in some cases aparche and dekate (and their cognate verbs) were used interchangeably without clear distinctions. A colossal kouros from Didyma in the sixth century bears this inscription on its thigh: [--]ης ἀπήρ{σ}ξατο ληίης δεκάτην το̑ι Ἀπ[όλλωνι], which can be literally translated as ‘--es made a first‐offering of a tenth of the spoil to Ap[ollo]’.108 The dedicator might be using aparchesthai as an equivalent of dekateuein (‘to offer a tenth’); or it might have the general sense of ἀνατιθέναι (‘to dedicate’) here. Another dedication, from Delos in the late third or early second (p.54) century, uses the words aparche and dekate side by side: βασιλεῖ Ὀσείριδι | Κτησίας Ἀπολοδώρου | Τήνιος ἀπαρχὴν | ἀπὸ τῆς ἐργασίας δεκάτην (‘to King Osiris Ktesias son of Apollodoros from Tenos (dedicated) an aparche as a dekate (or a dekate as an aparche) from his work’).109 The phiale was simultaneously identified as an aparche and a dekate, showing that the two terms were taken as essentially generic by some worshippers. This also seems to be the case with a (probably fabricated) phiale recorded in the Lindian Chronicle, described as both a dekate and an aparche: [Σολεῖς] Ἀθάναι Λινδί[αι] δεκάταν καὶ ἀπαρχὰν λαίας (‘[Soloians] to Athena Lindi[a] a dekate and an aparche of booty’).110 A fragmentary fifth‐century dedicatory inscription on the Athenian acropolis reads: [------14------]ος Ἀθεναίαι τόδ᾽ ἀπαρχὲν / [εὐχσάμενος δεκά]τεν παιδὶ Διὸς μεγάλο (‘[------------]os to Athena this as an aparche, [having vowed a deka]te to the child of Great Zeus’).111 If the supplement is correct, the individual was dedicating an aparche in fulfilment of a vow to offer a tithe to Athena. This might be similar to the above cases, where some dedicators used aparche and aparchesthai interchangeably with the related terms dekate and dekateuein. Alternatively, if the text is taken literally, we may wonder whether this individual could not after all afford the tenth part promised and offered instead a random, and perhaps smaller, portion. If this is the case, it raises the possibility that not every offering made to discharge a vow to give a dekate would necessarily be a literal tenth. In the absence of contextual information, only the dedicator would know whether his/her dekate was a real tenth or not. In some cases at least, there are indications that a dekate was a literal tenth. In Demosthenes’ Against Timocrates, the speaker attacked a law introduced by Timocrates that sought to protect the (p.55) Athenian ambassadors who were holding onto the plunder of a merchant ship captured off the Egyptian coast. He claimed that this law would deprive the gods of the dekate due to Athena and the pentekoste (fiftieth) to the other gods. Used in juxtaposition to pentekoste, dekate must here represent a real tenth of the value of the plunder.112 We also have a rare example of an eikoste (twentieth): a black‐glazed kylix dated to c.500 in Olbia has the graffito [Ἀπόλλωνι Δε]λφινίωι εἰκοστή (‘a twentieth to [Apollo De]lphinios’).113 Interestingly enough, a bronze plaque from Republican Rome is Page 15 of 30

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms inscribed: M. Mindios L. fi., |P. Condetios Va. fi., | aidiles, vicesma parti | Apolones dederi (‘M. Mindios son of Lucius (and) P. Condetios son of Varus, aediles, dedicated Apollo’s twentieth part’).114 Nevertheless, we do not know if all offerings bearing the word dekate necessarily involved a literal tenth; and we cannot rule out the possibility that some individuals might have used dekate to signify a part offering without entailing a tenth part exactly measured.

IV. Sacrificial and dedicatory applications This semantic survey shows that the vocabulary of ‘first offerings’ could be used in relation to sacrifice, dedications, and cult payments. Particularly noteworthy is the fact that aparchesthai can apply to both sacrificial and dedicatory practices to denote two seemingly different (p.56) acts: the act of offering sacrificial portions and of bringing first offerings as dedications to the gods. I hope it has become apparent by now that the two are not as entirely unrelated as they may appear to be at first sight: both acts set aside a portion as a symbolic offering, both express the precedence accorded to the gods over men. And yet it is with a different force that aparchesthai is used in these two contexts: in animal sacrifice the act of aparchesthai, whether applied to the hair or the flesh, anticipates the offering of the whole animal to the gods. We may see the preliminary portions of hair and flesh as symbolizing, but not as identical to, the gods’ portion, as they were subsequently presented with the whole sacrificial animal rather than just locks of hair and bits of meat. By contrast, in dedicatory practices aparchesthai and aparchai refer to the portions assigned to the gods, while the rest is retained for human utilization. The same holds true for preliminary offerings of food and drink at daily meals (see Chapter 4). The offering of a part does not appear to have any effect on the whole in contexts outside animal sacrifice.115 The claim that the part offered renders the rest of the food or goods ‘holy’, ‘safe’, or ‘permissible’ for human utilization by lifting the ‘taboo’ is a misconception indiscriminately applied to Greek religion from other cultures.116 As we shall see in the subsequent chapters, the notion of prohibition on consumption before first offerings were made is not supported by ancient Greek sources; there was nothing that prevented worshippers from using their crops, meals, and income before rendering a share to the gods. Similarly, in rites of mourning or maturation, the offering of a lock of hair by humans had no effect on the rest of the individual despite its intersection (both in terminology and practice) with the sacrificial rite of cutting an animal’s hair before slaughtering it. The hair offered may be considered as a token of the whole person, who is not sacrificed. It may be argued that, as with dedications, in animal sacrifice the gods received only the first portion while most of the edible meat was reserved for the human participants. Accordingly, in both sacrifices and dedications, the gods’ share was limited to the preliminary portion only. The unequal division of the sacrificial animal between (p.57) gods and men is explained in the aition told by Hesiod: at Mekone Prometheus offers Zeus the ox’s white bones wrapped in gleaming fat Page 16 of 30

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms to make them appear appetizing. Ever since then men are to burn the ὀστέα λευκά, generally taken to refer to the thigh bones, for the gods.117 This convention of animal sacrifice was often exploited by comic poets to criticize men’s meanness to the gods.118 However, we should distinguish between the reality and the ideology of sacrifice: although in practice we see only small portions set aside for the gods, ideologically the gods were presented with the whole animal. When the Greeks describe a sacrifice, they speak of sacrificing an animal (the whole), not its thigh‐bones or other portions, to the gods. It is precisely because the preliminary portions represented the whole animal(s) that it was considered more pleasing to the gods to receive finer and greater numbers of animals but not a larger share of the same animal(s). Thus Theophrastus’ character suspends on his front door not the portion for the god, but the skull of the ox to signify the magnitude of his offering.119 Reliefs and statues of sacrificial animals represent the whole animals, not portions of them. In his unpublished thesis on offerings at meals (on which see Chapter 4), Jameson discussed at length the distinctive nature of the thusia compared to offerings in other contexts: a thusia offered the whole sacrificial animal(s) to the gods, as opposed to first portions of food at daily meals or any other kinds of first offerings, which were ‘part offerings’ in nature.120 Yet the question of how the gods received and enjoyed the whole animal(s) must remain a mystery to us: it can only be answered by the Greek gods themselves. We have seen that the vocabulary of ‘first offerings’ could intersect with, diverge from, and relate to each other in different contexts. (p.58) One way of expressing the complex relation between these terms is to see aparchesthai as poised midway between katarchesthai and aparche: the verb katarchesthai features only in sacrificial procedures but never dedications, whereas the noun aparchai is used predominantly in dedications and very rarely with reference to animal sacrifice. On the other hand, aparchesthai can apply to both sacrificial and dedicatory practices; so too can the less common noun apargmata. Nevertheless, despite these general trends, sometimes there is a degree of imprecision in the use of these terms. As its various applications overlap and the difference between them is sometimes elusive, the notion of aparchesthai was sufficiently fluid to allow the Greeks to use the word with varying emphases in different contexts. Thus Theophrastus uses aparchesthai interchangeably with thuein, deliberately blurring the distinction between the two in his attempt to elevate bloodless offerings above animal sacrifice. It is the fluidity of the notion of aparchesthai that allowed Theophrastus to conflate aparchesthai with thuein for his purpose. Notes:

(1) This is a revised and expanded version of an article published in Kernos 24 (2011), 39–58, which discusses words etymologically related to aparche and

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms aparchesthai, but not dekatai, dekateuein, akrothinia, etc. I thank Kernos for permission to use the journal article. (2) Secular and metaphorical applications of the words will not be discussed here. Metaphorical uses: e.g. Eur. Andr. 149–50 (οὐ τῶν Ἀχιλλέως οὐδὲ Πηλέως  ἀπὸ δόμων ἀπαρχαί), Pl. Prt. 343b (ἀπαρχὴ σοφίας), Diod. Sic. 9.10.1 (ἀπαρχαὶ τῆς ἰδίας συνέσεως). The verb aparchesthai is used in some Hellenistic inscriptions (mostly honorific decrees) to express the act of musical or literary performance in honour of the gods, e.g. I.Knidos 301.6, I.Perge 14.66–7, SEG II 184.12, IG II2 1330.42, FD III.3 no. 249.6, as collected and discussed (with further examples) in Robert (1938), 38–45. (3) The vocabulary of sacrifice has been studied in detail by Rudhardt (1992 [1958]) and Casabona (1966). The practice of animal sacrifice has an enormous bibliography; some recent treatments are e.g. Hermary et al. (2004), Georgoudi, Piettre, and Schmidt (eds) (2005), Ekroth (2007), (2008a), (2008b), Petropoulou (2008), Parker (2009b), Patton (2009), Parker (2010a), Knust and Várhelyi (eds) (2011), Parker (2011), 80–4, 124–70, 283–6, Versnel (2011), 348–70, Faraone and Naiden (eds) (2012), Naiden (2013), Hitch and Rutherford (eds) (forthcoming). (4) Hom. Od. 3.430–64, esp. 444–6. We shall return to the other verb katarchesthai in this passage later. (5) Hom. Od. 14.414–24. See also Hom. Il. 19.252–5: when Agamemnon swears to Zeus that he never laid hand on the girl Briseïs, he cuts some of the sacrificial boar’s hair as a first offering (κάπρου ἀπὸ τρίχας ἀρξάμενος). Here the verb archesthai is modified by apo used adverbially. But it is unclear whether the hair is cast in the fire or distributed to the participants as suggested by Kirk et al. (1985–93), vol. 5, 265 (who compares this passage to the oath sacrifice in Hom. Il. 3.273–4, where the hair was portioned out to the participants and not burnt). (6) Hom. Od. 14.425–9. (7) On omothetein, see LSJ s.v. ὠμοθετέω, Lupu (2003), 74. Etymologically it is derived from ὠμός (raw) and τίθημι; but Eust. ad Il. l.461 p. 206 van der Valk says that some derived it from ὦμος (shoulder). In other Homeric sacrifices (e.g. Hom. Il. 1.461, 2.424, Od. 3.458, 12.361) it expresses the act of laying the pieces of raw meat that have been cut off from the victim’s limbs on thigh bones wrapped in fat; but here the thigh bones are not mentioned. On the absence of thigh bones, an important anomaly which marks Eumaeus’ ritual actions as unusual in Homeric and later sacrifices, see Meuli (1975), vol. 2, 937 n. 3, who suggested that pigs probably received special treatment different from that of other victims. Meuli’s view is now supported by osteological evidence studied by Ekroth (2009), esp. 137–8, 143–6. On the similarity between the Homeric

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms omothetein and the placing of maschalismata in SEG XXXV 113.15–17 (= NGSL 3.15–17), see Parker (1984), Van Straten (1995), 127. (8) Hsch. α 7053 s.v. ἄργματα: ἀπαρχαί; Etym. Magn. 137.17–18 s.v. ἄργμα: Ἡ ἀπαρχή. Παρὰ τὸ ἄρχω, ἄργμα, ὡς παρὰ τὸ ἦρμαι, ἄρμα (‘The aparche. From ἄρχω comes ἄργμα, just as from ἦρμαι comes ἄρμα’); Etym. Magn. 118.37–9 s.v. ἀπάργματα: αἱ μεγάλαι ἀπαρχαὶ τῶν θυσιῶν τῶν τελείων. Παρὰ τὸ ἄρχω ἀπάρχω, ἄργμα καὶ ἄπαργμα (‘the great aparchai of perfect sacrifices (?). From ἄρχω comes ἀπάρχω, ἄργμα, and ἄπαργμα). LSJ s.v. ἄργμα: ἄργματα=ἀπάργματα. (9) Hom. Od. 14.430–6. I understand θῆκεν (from τίθημι) in line 436 as ‘set aside’, as most commentators do. Cf. Petropoulou (1987), 141–3, who suggests instead ‘serve before’ or ‘serve up’ (παρατίθημι). Most editions have ἐπευξάμενος in line 436; but some manuscripts have ἐπαρξάμενος, which is adopted by Stengel (1894), 2667. Jameson (1949), 127–8: ‘here we cannot be sure’ which word is right. However, ἐπαρξάμενος is extremely unlikely: in Homer eparchesthai always refers to a specific drink ritual (see n. 104 below) and is never used as a variant of aparchesthai as in post‐Homeric usage. (10) Hom. Od. 14.446–8. (11) The portion in lines 427–9: Monro (1901), vol. 2, 40, Dawe (1993), 550; but then the acts in 427–9 and 446 would seem to duplicate each other. The share in lines 435–6: e.g. Stanford (1958–9 [1947–8]), vol. 2, 234, Jameson (1949), 126–9, Casabona (1966), 70, 122, Heubeck and Hoekstra (1989), vol. 2, 224–5. Other possibilities have been raised. Gill (1974), 134, assumes that the portion in line 435 is placed on the house table at which Eumaeus and his guests are eating as a form of trapezomata, but does not comment on the word argmata. Meuli (1975), vol. 2, 938 n. 3: the argmata are the regular offerings cast into the fire before a meal begins. Kadletz (1984): first drops of wine poured as libation in line 447. Petropoulou (1987), esp. 138–9: neither the share in lines 427–9 nor 435–6 is meant, but bits of roasted meat taken from the portions already distributed by Eumaeus to his companions and himself. The B and Q scholia on Hom. Od. 14.446 put it vaguely: ἄργματα θῦσε: τὰς ἀπαρχὰς τῶν μερίδων, ἢ τὰ ἀπομερισθέντα τοῖς θεοῖς (‘he sacrificed argmata: the aparchai of the sacrificial portions, or the things set aside for the gods’). (12) Meuli (1975) and Petropoulou (1987) in n. 11 above. See Chapter 4 on preliminary meal offerings, and the ambiguities between ‘sacrificial offerings’ and ‘preliminary portions of food’ for the gods in sacrificial rituals. (13) LSJ s.v. κατάρχω. II.2. (14) Hom. Od. 3.444–6.

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms (15) See also Stanford (1958–9 [1947–8]), vol. 1, 264–5. (16) E.g. Hdt. 4.188 (τοῦ ὠτὸς ἀπάρξωνται τοῦ κτήνεος), LSAM 50.23–5 (ἀπὸ τῶν ἀριστερῶν ἀπαρξάμενοι); see also Eur. El. 810–12 (the term is not used but the preliminary rite is attested). (17) Hdt. 4.61.2. On the usual treatment of the splanchna in Greek sacrifice, see e.g. Van Straten (1995), 131–3. (18) This inscription has been variously restored in Herzog (1928), 12–14, LSCG 151.D, RO 62.D, and IG XII.4 275. Here I follow the supplements in IG XII.4, but have omitted those in lines 12–13 because of textual uncertainties. (19) Pirenne‐Delforge (1996), 210–11 and n. 103. (20) On human hair‐offering, see Burkert (1985), 70, 373–4 n. 29 (revised edn in Burkert (2011), 112–13, with n. 30), Leitao (2003). (21) Eur. El. 91. Similar rituals not described by the term aparchesthai are found in e.g. Hom. Il. 23.135–51, Od. 4.197–8, Aesch. Cho. 168, Eur. IA 1437, Supp. 97, Tro. 480, Soph. Aj. 1173–4. (22) E.g. Callim. Hymn 4, 296–9, Plut. Thes. 5.1, Paus. 1.43.4. There is no Classical usage of the word aparchesthai in adolescent hair‐offering to my knowledge; the practice is attested in Classical sources without using the term, e.g. Hdt. 4.34.1–2, Eur. Hipp. 1425–7, Theophr. Char. 21.3. (23) The ritual has been variously interpreted and has no authoritative explanation: e.g. Pearson (1909), 190, on Eur. Phoen. 1524–5: ‘an act of symbolism, by which the survivor devoted himself to the service of the dead. The act is then a substitute for a more primitive self‐immolation’; Leaf (1900–2), vol. 2, 481, on Hom. Il. 23.135: ‘a part cut straight from the living body represents the whole man, who thus offers himself as an escort to the shades’; Nilsson (1925), 96–7: the lock of hair represents the person and places the whole person under divine protection and care; Jameson (1949), 59: ‘by cutting off a living part of himself and presenting it to a god or a dead relative, a man in effect dedicates himself’; West (1987), 187, on Eur. Or. 96: ‘the easiest form of self‐ mutilation’ and ‘an act of mourning’. See also Hom. Od. 4.197–8, where Nestor’s son refers to the offering of some hair and tears as the only due (γέρας) paid to the dead. (24) Also noted by Jameson (1949), 75. (25) E.g. Theophr. Piet. fr. 12.42–9, 13.15–22, 19.3–7 Pötscher=Porph. Abst. 2.24.1, 27.1, 32.1. Following Pötscher (1964) and Fortenbaugh et al. (1992), who take these passages as quoted by Porphyry from Theophrastus, we can

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms reasonably safely think that Theophrastus used the word aparchesthai, though we do not know whether Porphyry was borrowing from Theophrastus verbatim. (26) Theophr. Piet. fr. 12.42–49 Pötscher=Porph. Abst. 2.24.1 (tr. adapted from Fortenbaugh et al.). (27) Theophr. Piet. fr. 13.15–22 Pötscher=Porph. Abst. 2.27.1 (tr. adapted from Fortenbaugh et al.). (28) Parker (2004a), 275. (29) Agricultural produce: Eur. Meleager, fr. 516 Kannicht; hunting and animals: IG I3 828 (ἀπαρχὴ ἄγρας), Arr. Cyn. 33.1, 36.4 (ἀπαρχαὶ τῶν ἁλισκομένων), Anth. Pal. 6. 196 (ἀπαρχὴ ἄγρας); food: Strabo 17.1.38, 811–12, Ath. 5.179b–c (ἀπαρχαὶ τῶν βρωμάτων); hair: Eur. Or. 96 (ἀπαρχαὶ κόμης); booty: Soph. Trach. 182–3 (μάχης ἀπαρχαί), 761 (λείας ἀπαρχή), Lindos II no. 88 (ἀπαρχὴ ἀπὸ τῶν λαφύρων), I.Pergamon no. 47=OGIS 281 (τῶν ἐξ Αἰγίνης ἀπαρχή), Lycoph. Alex. 1450 (σκύλων ἀπαρχαί); work: IG I3 628 (ἔργον ἀπαρχή), 695 (ἔργον ἀπαρχή); wealth: IG I3 647 (ἀπαρχὴ κτ[έα]νον), IG II2 4904 (χρημ[άτων] ἀπαρχή). (30) E.g. Hdt. 3.24.4 (πάντων ἀπαρχόμενοι), IG I3 730 (κτέανον μοῖραν ἀπαρσάμενος), IG II2 4320 ([τέχνης] οἰκέας ἔρνος ἀπαρξάμ[ενος]), 4334 (μοῖραν ἀπαρξαμένη κτεάνων). Absolute use: e.g. Theoph. Char. 10.3. (31) Hdt. 1.92.2, 4.71.4, 4.88.1. (32) Eur. Meleager, fr. 516 Kannicht. This fragment does not mention whether a blood or bloodless sacrifice is involved. But the myth recounted in Hom. Il. 9.533–6 says that Oeneus failed to offer thalusia (a synonym of aparchai, see Chapter 3) to Artemis whereas the other gods enjoyed a hecatomb, which suggests that Oeneus probably used part of the proceeds of his harvest to finance animal sacrifices. (33) Soph. Trach. 760–2. (34) Engelmann (2007), 134–5 (= SEG LVII 1674). (35) Engelmann (2007) translates ‘ein gleich (großes) Stück der Platas’ (‘the (great) piece equal to the platas’). He understands πλάτα as the accusative of the otherwise unattested πλάτας, and refers to ἡ πλάξ (‘die glatte Fläche am Unterleib der Tiere’ ‘the smooth area at the lower abdomen of the animal’), πλάτη, and ὠμοπλάτη (‘das Schulterblatt’ ‘shoulder‐blade’). Cf. Chaniotis in EBGR (2007 [2010]), 293, no. 45, who suggests reading πλάτα (= πλάτηι) ἴσον, ‘a piece equal to the shoulder‐blade’. (36) On priestly prerogatives, see n. 48.

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms (37) Lycoph. Alex. 1193, with commentary in Hornblower (forthcoming). Hornblower links the present passage to Hector’s piety in e.g. Hom. Il. 24.33–4, 68–70; but, as we have seen, the noun aparche is not used in Homer. The phrase ἀπαρχαὶ θυμάτων echoes θυμάτων ἀπάρχεσθαι in line 1188 (which has a different sense, see n. 60 below). (38) IG II2 2939=4339; Parker (2004a), 275. (39) E.g. IG I3 526, 531, 547, 559, 566, 680, 696, 702, 731, 740, 834, 848, 872. (40) The public hiara are most probably public sacred objects, specifically public images: discussed in Jameson, Jordan, and Kotanski (1993), 21–3, Lupu in NGSL 27, p. 378. (41) SEG XLIII 630, NGSL 27, with full commentaries in Jameson, Jordan, and Kotanski (1993), Dimartino (2003), Dubois (2003). (42) On theoxenia, see Bruit (1989), (1990), Jameson (1994). On table‐offerings, see Gill (1974). (43) Here I follow Lupu’s interpretation of the rituals in NGSL 27. See also Dubois (2003), 116. (44) Öztürk and Süel (2011), lines 7–13 (first to second centuries AD) (the otherwise unattested word ἐκφοριωνῶν is discussed at 264). (45) A possible alternative is to see the apargmata as the first‐fruits of agricultural produce, by analogy with the common practice of requiring tenants of sacred land to contribute part of their produce for cult finance: e.g. Xen. An. 5.3.13, IG XII.3 436=LSCG 134 (see Chapter 8). Argmata in Eumaeus’ sacrifice: Hom. Od. 14.446. (46) Ar. Pax 1056 (tr. Sommerstein). (47) Schol. Vet. Ar. Pax 1056. Sommerstein (1985), 183, Olson (1998), 270. See also Van Straten (1995), 122: ‘[Hierokles] shows a particular interest in those parts of the victim that, at a sacrifice where a priest officiated, would normally fall to the priest’; but he does not say whether the apargmata in line 1056 are supposed to be priestly portions or not. (48) Priestly prerogatives: e.g. IG II2 1356, 1359, 1363, LSAM 24A, IG V.1 1390, IG XII.7 237, SEG XXXV 113, LIV 214; Gill (1974), 127–33, Le Guen‐Pollet (1991), Van Straten (1995), 154–5, Ekroth (2008b), esp. 267–9, Lupu (2009), esp. 42–4. (49) A rare piece of evidence which possibly speaks of a first portion (aparche) of sacrificial victims being given to the priest is the aforementioned Hellenistic lex Page 22 of 30

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms sacra from Patara in Lycia, published in Engelmann (2007), 134–5; the difficulties in using this text are discussed above. (50) Ar. Pax 1099–1121. See also Ar. Av. 975–6, where another chresmologos desires the splanchna. (51) I.Histriae 101, amended by Moretti (1983), 55–7 (SEG XXXIII 582), Zimmermann (1990) (SEG XL 587), Zimmermann (2000) (SEG L 685), Bîrzescu (2005), 418, no. G8 (EBGR (2006 [2009]), 217 no. 13). The word (perhaps the dedicator’s name) between Ἀφροδίτηι ἀνέθηκεν and ἄπαργμα appears differently in different editions; here I cite the text in Zimmermann (2000). Zimmermann (1990) dates it to before 550 BC on the basis of letter forms and archaeological context; but this is considered too high by Sève in BE (1991), no. 105. (52) Moretti (1983), 56, interprets apargma here as equivalent to ἔργων ἀπαρχή, a craftsman’s first offering from the earnings of his work. Zimmermann (2000) mentions that similar (but uninscribed) roof tiles were used in other buildings in the area. (53) Martelli (1988), 113–15 (SEG XXXVIII 783), d (Ἀθαναίας ἄπαργμα Πείσιος ἀνέθεκε) (fifth century BC), f (Βωλάκριτος : Ἀθαναίαι : ἄπαργμα) (c.400 BC). (54) IG I3 703 supplements [ἄρ]γ̣ματα, whereas DAA no. 284 has [ἀπάρ]γ̣ματα (this is preferable given other epigraphic parallels from the Classical period). (55) Hom. Od. 3.444–6. (56) E.g. Hdt. 2.45.1 (αὐτοῦ κατάρχεσθαι), Ar. Av. 959 (μὴ κατάρξῃ τοῦ τράγου), Eur. Phoen. 573 (κατάρχεσθαι θυμάτων), Dem. 21.114 (κατάρχεσθαι τῶν ἱερῶν), Arr. Anab. 2.26.4 (κατάρχεσθαι τοῦ πρώτου ἱερείου). (57) Hdt. 4.60. (58) Macan (1895), vol. 1, 41: ‘no beginning with consecration’ (but he did not explain what ‘consecration’ entails); How and Wells (1928), vol. 1, 326: burning of hair; Asheri, Lloyd, and Corcella (2007), 626: ‘the sprinkling of lustral water and scattering of barley‐grains to consecrate the victim’. (59) Absolute usages: e.g. Hdt. 4.103.1, Eur. Heracl. 529, Andoc. 1.126, Arr. Anab. 7.11.8, Athenio fr. 1.40–3 K.–A.; Malay and Ricl (2009), 40, no. I.42–3. (60) Eur. Alc. 74–6 (tr. adapted from L. P. E. Parker). Stengel (1908) denied that there is any question of a sacrifice here at all; Dale (1954), 58, considers the passage untypical, as the terminology of ordinary sacrifice is applied to the ceremony of death, with Thanatos as the officiating priest. LSJ s.v. κατάρχω, II.b, cite this as an example where the word means ‘sacrifice’ or ‘slay’ (rather than Page 23 of 30

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms ‘begin a sacrifice’). Cf. Lycoph. Alex. 1187–8, where Cassandra refers to her mother Hecabe’s fate: λευστῆρα πρῶτον οὕνεκεν ῥίψας πέτρον Ἅιδῃ κελαινῶν θυμάτων ἀπάρξεται (‘because he [Odysseus] threw the first stone at you [Hecabe], he will begin the black sacrifice to Hades’) (tr. and commentary in Hornblower, forthcoming). This is a rare instance, in a poetic text, where θυμάτων ἀπάρχεσθαι is used in the sense of θυμάτων κατάρχεσθαι and means ‘to begin a sacrifice’ (instead of usually ‘to offer a preliminary share from a greater whole’ of the victim); here the initial act consists in Odysseus’ leading role in throwing the first stone in Hecabe’s stoning (referred to in lines 330–1, but there she was stoned by the Doloncians, not the Greeks led by Odysseus). (61) The word occurs three times in relation to Iphigenia’s priestly duty: Eur. IT 40, 56, 1154. (62) Sprinkling of water: Eur. IT 53–4, 622; Platnauer (1938), 64, Cropp (2000), 175. On katarchesthai referring to the sprinkling of water, see also IG XII.4 278.32–3 (= LSCG 151.A.31–2, RO 62.A.31–2), where κ[ατ]ά̣ρ̣χονται θαλλῶι καὶ δά̣φ̣ναι refers to the opening sacrificial rite of sprinkling water on the victim with an olive branch and laurel. Eur. IT makes no explicit mention of the scattering of barley grains on the victim’s head, but these two acts were customarily performed together in Greek sacrifice: e.g. Hom. Od. 3.444–6, Ar. Pax 948–62, Av. 850, Eur. IA 1568–9; Burkert (1985), 56 (revised edn in Burkert (2011), 94), Van Straten (1995), 31–40. The related noun κατάργματα in Eur. IT 244–5 seems to refer to barley grains: χέρνιβας δὲ καὶ κατάργματα οὐκ ἂν φθάνοις ἂν εὐτρεπῆ ποιουμένη (‘you cannot be too soon preparing your lustrations and consecrations’) (tr. Cropp). LSJ s.v. κατάργματα, explain the word as ‘first offerings’, whereas Cropp (2000), 191, takes into account both barley‐grain scattering and hair‐cutting. This word is otherwise unattested in Classical sources, but appears later in Plut. Thes. 22.5 in relation to agricultural offerings hung on the eiresione in the Thargelia (on which see Chapter 3). Etymologically related to κατάρχεσθαι and κατάργματα is the noun καταρχή, attested in religious use only in the fragmentary IG II2 1359 (= LSCG 29) and of obscure meaning. LSJ s.v. καταρχή, III, explain this as ‘the part of the victim first offered’, but the fact that the word is derived from katarchesthai (a pre‐killing rite) makes it unlikely that the victim’s flesh is involved, unless the hair is meant, which is improbable in this context as a priestly portion. (63) As in SEG LIV 214.32–3, LSS 19.31–2=RO 37.31–2, SEG XLI 1003 II.13=Ma (1999), 311–17, no. 18.13; but none of these instances mentions what preliminary rites precisely are involved in katarchesthai. (64) Thuc. 1.25.4, on the disputes between the Corinthians and the Corcyraeans leading to the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War, has a reference to the etymologically related word προκατάρχεσθαι of disputed meaning: οὔτε Κορινθίῳ ἀνδρὶ προκαταρχόμενοι τῶν ἱερῶν (‘at their sacrifice they did not give Page 24 of 30

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms priority to Corinthians’) (tr. Hornblower). I have argued in Jim (2013) that προκατάρχεσθαι has the same meaning as κατάρχεσθαι ‘to begin the sacrificial procedures’, with the prefix πρό emphasizing the priority accorded to the Corinthians over the Corcyraeans when they were sacrificing together in a Panhellenic festival. It was Corcyra’s failure to honour its mother‐city by inviting a Corinthian (i.e. by means of a Corinthian: Κορινθίῳ ἀνδρὶ) to perform the opening sacrificial rites which is at the heart of the dispute. (65) Hair‐cutting: Hsch. κ 1385 s.v. κατάρξασθαι τοῦ ἱερείου· τῶν τριχῶν ἀποσπάσαι; LSJ s.v. κατάρχω, II.2.a; Parker (2005), 97 n. 25. Lustration and scattering of grains only: Stengel (1908). Hair‐cutting, lustration, and scattering of grains: Denniston (1939), 148, Jameson (1949), 56, Dunbar (1995), 541–2. (66) Ar. Ach. 244, Eur. Alc. 74–6. (67) Absolute use of katarchesthai: e.g. Hdt. 4.60.2, 103.1, Andoc. 1.126, see n. 59; absolute use of aparchesthai: e.g. Ar. Ach. 244. (68) Katarchestai with a genitive: see n. 56; aparchesthai with a genitive: e.g. Hdt. 4.61.2, 4.188, Eur. El. 91. But note the anomaly in Lycoph. Alex. 1188 (θυμάτων ἀπάρχεσθαι) in n. 60 above. (69) Ἀκρόθις: e.g. Pind. Ol. 2.4, 10.57; RO 1.D.47. See also Lazzarini (1976), 93– 5, LSJ s.v. ἀκροθίνια, s.v. ἀκρόθις, Parker (2004a), 275. (70) Eur. Phoen. 203 (with 214–15, where the women are described as καλλιστεύματα Λοξίᾳ, and 282 Φοίβῳ ἀκροθίνιον), with commentary in Mastronarde (1994), 215. (71) Schol. Eur. Phoen. 203: κυρίως αἱ τῶν καρπῶν ἀπαρχαί, παρὰ τὸν θῖνα, ὅ ἐστι τὸν σωρὸν τῆς ἅλωνος· καταχρηστικῶς δὲ οὕτως λέγονται καὶ αἱ ἀπαρχαὶ τῆς λείας. Cf. Hsch. α 2606 s.v. ἀκροθίνιον, Phot. α 857 s.v. ἀκροθίνια, Suda α 1002 s.v. ἀκροθίνια, Etym. Magn. 53.10–14 s.v. ἀκροθίνια, all of which recognize the various applications of the word. (72) E.g. Eur. HF 476. (73) Pind. Ol. 2.4. On Heracles’ founding of the Olympic games, see Pind. Ol. 10.24–59. (74) FD III.2, no. 1, IG I3 1463 B, ML 19. Other examples of military akrothinia are e.g. Hdt. 1.86.2, 1.90.4, 8.121–2, Thuc. 1.132.2, I.Pergamon, nos 62a, 165, Lindos II no. 291. (75) IG IX.1 131; Pind. fr. dub. 357 Maehler; Diod. Sic. 4.81.4.

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms (76) RO no. 1.D.43–7. Homolle (1895), 61, followed by Rougemont (1977), no. 9, p. 82, 85, Patera (2012), 27: ‘les prémices’; RO 1: ‘first‐fruits’. On sacrificial usage, see also Aesch. Eum. 834–6 (τἀκροθίνια θύη). (77) Hdt. 1.86.2; Eur. IT 459. Cf. Eur. IT 75 (τῶν κατθανόντων ἀκροθίνια ξένων ‘top pickings from foreigners who have died here’ (tr. Cropp) ): the akrothinia may refer to the spoils taken from the Greeks who were slain, the skula (‘arms’, ‘spoils’) mentioned in line 74, or the heads of human victims by reference to the Taurian practice alluded to in Hdt. 4.103 and Amm. Marc. 22.8.33. Flagg (1889), 63, and Cropp (2000), 179, prefer the latter; Kyriakou (2006), 70, considers both possibilities. (78) LSJ s.v. δέκατος, II, Lazzarini (1976), 90–3. (79) E.g. Xen. An. 5.3.13, LSCG 86. (80) On non‐religious dekatai, see references in Chapter 8, n. 74. (81) Military dekatai: Hdt. 5.77.4, 8.27.5, 9.81.1, Lys. 20.24, Xen. Ages. 1.34; agriculture: IG I3 800 (δεκάτη χοριόω); sale of animals: SEG XXVI 451 (δεκάτη αἰγῶν), IG IV2.1 123.23 ([δεκάτη] τᾶς ἐμπολᾶς τῶν ἰχθύων); voyage: TAM II, no. 1184 (ἀπὸ ναυτιλίας δεκάτη); work: IG XIV 643 (ϝέργον δεκάτη); wealth: IG I3 698 (δεκάτη τἀρ{ν}γυρίου), 779 (δε[κάτεν ἔργον] καὶ χρεμάτ̣ο̣ν̣), Hdt. 4.152.4 (δεκάτη τῶν ἐπικερδίων). (82) Xen. Hell. 4.3.21, Xen. Ages. 1.34: Agesilaus offered to the god in Delphi a tithe of his booty, an offering of not less than 100 talents (δεκάτην τῶν ἐκ τῆς λείας τῷ θεῷ ἀπέθυσεν οὐκ ἐλάττω ἑκατὸν ταλάντων). The large sum makes it likely that the offering was in the form of money rather than a sacrifice. Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 1, 96, takes this tithe as a sum of money. Casabona (1966), 95–6, understands ἀποθύειν as the equivalent of θυσίαν ἀποδιδόναι, stressing the idea of returning what is due to the god, whether or not a vow had been made; cf. LSJ s.v. ἀποθύω: ‘offer up as a votive sacrifice’. Casabona further suggests that in these passages from Xenophon ἀποθύειν need not denote the consecration of an offering by sacrifice, but might concern any offering made in any way. Cf. Patera (2012), 26, who thinks that sumptuous dedications might be meant. (83) IG VII 2456, Lazzarini (1976), no. 684. Another sixth‐century dedication from Thebes has the phrase τᾶς {δ}δεκάτας, which probably stands for ἀπὸ τᾶς δεκάτας: CEG 326, Lazzarini (1976), no. 795, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 277, no. 30. (84) Chantraine (1968–80), vol. 1, 259 s.v. δεκάτη. (85) E.g. Xen. An. 5.3.13. (86) E.g. Hdt. 1.89.3, Xen. An. 5.3.9. LSJ s.v. δεκατεύω, I, ‘exact tithe from’.

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms (87) Hdt. 7.132.2 (tr. adapted from Waterfield); cf. the so‐called ‘oath of Plataea’ in Lycurg. Leoc. 81, Diod. Sic. 11.3.3, 11.29.1–3, RO 88. There are uncertainties concerning the time, the terms, and the historicity of this Hellenic oath; summarized in Walbank (1957–79), vol. 2, 180–2 (on Polyb. 9.39.5), Flower and Marincola (2002), 323–5, appendix C, Kozak (2012), 192–9. (88) Rawlinson (1862), vol. 4, 92, Godley (1926–38), vol. 3, 435, Waterfield (1998), 448; LSJ s.v. δεκατεύω, I, quoting Hdt. 7.132: ‘make them pay a tithe to Apollo’, but LSJ do not explain what this tithe involves. (89) E.g. Hdt. 1.89 (Cyrus’ capture of Sardis), Xen. Hell. 1.7.10, 20 (Athenian generals after Arginusae), Liv. 5.21, 23, 25 (Camillus’ capture of Veii). (90) How and Wells (1928), vol. 2, 178. This view was already expressed by Macan (1908), vol. I.1, 173: wholesale spoliation from which a tenth would be given to the god, nine‐tenths retained. See similarly Burn (1984), 345, 514, Flower and Marincola (2002), 257, Steinbock (2013), 313–19. (91) Liv. 5.21.1–2, 23.8–11, 25.4–13. (92) Xen. Hell. 6.3.20, 6.5.35, cf. Polyb. 9.39.5. (93) Parke (1948). (94) Note a similar change of sense in the word ‘decimate’ itself, from Latin decimare (‘to tithe’, ‘to take a tenth’), but later coming to signify ‘to destroy’, ‘to devastate’. See OED s.v. decimate, OLD s.v. decimo. (95) Harp. δ 16 s.v. δεκατεύειν; LSJ s.v. δεκατεύω, III. ‘= ἀρκτεύω’; Parker (2005), 233 with n. 71. (96) On the arkteia, see Cole (1984a), 238 ff., Brulé (1987), ch. 2, Faraone (2003), Parker (2005), 228–48 (esp. 233–5 on the number and age‐range of the girls). (97) Hsch. δ 564 s.v. δεκατεύειν: ἔλεγον δὲ καὶ τὸ ἀρκτεύειν δεκατεύειν, ἐπεὶ ἔπρασσον αὐτὸ αἱ παρθένοι περὶ τὸν δεκαετῆ χρόνον οὖσαι. See similarly Etym. Magn. 254.11–13 s.v. δεκατεύειν: Λέγεται δὲ καὶ τὸ ἀρκτεύειν· ἐπειδὴ ἐθεράπευον τὴν Ἄρτεμιν αἱ παρθένοι περὶ τὸν δέκατον χρόνον (‘[dekateuein] is also called arkteuein; since maidens served Artemis around the age of ten’). (98) Vidal‐Naquet (1986), 146, Sourvinou‐Inwood (1988b), 116, Parker (2005), esp. 233–5, Parker (2011), 204. (99) LSJ Supplement s.v. δεκατός: ‘tithed, i.e. subject to payment of one‐tenth of one’s substance’; Dobias‐Lalou (2000), 110–11: ‘soumis à la décimation’, with morphological discussion.

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms (100) SEG IX 72, LSS 115. See commentary and bibliography in Parker (1983), 332–51, RO no. 97. By comparison with mythical traditions of marginal groups sent on colonizing expeditions by Delphic Apollo, Robertson (2010), ch. 20, argues that pollution results from intermarriage with newcomers from Libya, and that pollution is the cause (not result) of being tithed. His position is tenuous and does not explain, inter alia, why property could be dekatos and why a boy could be voluntarily or involuntarily polluted. (101) Sacrifice: e.g. LSCG 88 (c.230?), IG XII.4 319.10–12 (= SEG L 766) (c.125– 100), IG XII.4 294.15–18 (= SEG LI 1066) (early first century), LSS 72 (first century). Healing: Petrakos (1997), nos 276, 277 (fourth century). (102) Cult taxes: e.g. SEG XLI 182 (early fourth century, maidens getting married), Xen. An. 5.3.13 (fourth century, tenants of sacred land), IG II2 1215 (early third century, office‐holders), IG XII.4 298.A.85–8 (= SEG LI 1062) (second half of the third or early second century, contractors), IG XII.4 319 (= SEG L 766) (c.125–100, freedmen, fishermen, shipowners). (103) E.g. IG I3 130.7 (aparche), 18 (eparche), IG II2 1672.182 (eparche), 263 (eparche), 288 (eparche), 297 (aparche). (104) In Homeric drinking rituals, ἐπάρχεσθαι means ‘to pour the first drops (into the cups) before a libation’. The word is used seven times in Homer and always appears in the formula ἐπάρχεσθαι δεπάεσσιν, an expression not found in later Greek literature. Apparently a wine‐pourer would pour the first drops into the cup of each participant (ἐπάρχεσθαι), to be poured out again as a libation (σπένδειν) to the gods before each cup was filled a second time for drinking (πίνειν). See Hom. Il. 1.471, 9.176, Od. 3.340, 7.183, 18.418, 21.263, 21.272; Stengel (1910), LSJ s.v. ἐπάρχεσθαι, II.1. (105) Military aparchai: see n. 29 above. (106) IG I3 644, DAA no. 292, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 277, no. 37; Payne and Young (1950), pl. 59.1–3, Raubitschek (1943 [1939–40]), 24–5, Holtzmann (2003), 60, Keesling (2003), 9–10, 106, Franssen (2011), 155, with pl. 7.1–2. (107) This would also explain the inverse gesture of the kore Acr. no. 683 (discussed in Holtzmann (2003), 60, Keesling (2003), 106). The statue had her right foot stepping forward instead of her left, the inverse of the normal pose of korai on the Athenian acropolis. It is likely to be a mirror image of the smaller kore to her right, which was probably in the normal pose. (108) Tuchelt (1970), 56, 117 K 9 bis fig. 24 pl. 14, Lazzarini (1976), no. 692, Jeffery (1990), LSAG2, 473, H, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 277 no. 33. (109) IG XI.4 1248. Page 28 of 30

The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms (110) Lindos II, no. 2.C.76–8. However, in Lindos II, no. 41, three generations of family members dedicated ‘dekatai and aparchai’ to Athena Lindia: Εὐφράνωρ Ἀρχηίου Δαμάγητος Εὐφράνορος καὶ παῖδες Ἀθαναίαι Λινδίαι δεκάτας καὶ ἀπαρχάς (‘Euphranor son of Archeios, Damagetos son of Euphranor, and his children (dedicated) to Athena Lindia dekatai and aparchai’). Here it is not clear whether dekatai and aparchai were used interchangeably, or whether the dedication was made using several dekatai and aparchai of different values and/ or proportions contributed by different family members. (111) IG I3 862. (112) Dem. 24.120, 129. See also Just. Epit. 20.3, where Croton and Locri vowed a (real) tenth and a ninth of the spoils respectively to Apollo in the event of a military victory (see Chapter 6). (113) Lazzarini (1976), no. 703, IGDOP no. 64, Parker (2004a), 275. (114) ILLRP 51, ILS 3216. It is disputed whether vicesma parti is an accusative singular (with the loss of a final ‐m in both words), or an accusative plural (with the loss of a final ‐s), or an ablative singular (with the final ‐d lost by the time of this inscription). Warmington (1936–67), vol. 4, 70–1, no. 36, translates ‘…gave Apollo’s twentieth’; Wachter (1987), 457–8, argues for an ablative and translates ‘sie haben (sc. den Gegenstand) aus dem Zwanzigsten des Apoll dargebracht’; Vine (1993), 97–8, leaves open whether it is accusative or ablative. I take it to be an accusative, as is most common with Greek dedicatory inscriptions of this kind. The divine recipient, normally expressed in dative in Greek inscriptions, is here expressed in the genitive Apolones: it signifies the part due to Apollo, reinforcing the idea that it was the god’s share. Cf. the expression pars Herculanea (‘the share for Hercules’) in Plaut. Truc. 562, and decima Herculis in Tert. Apol. 14.1 and Just. Epit. 18.7.7. (115) Cf. Nilsson (1967–84), 134, who suggested that dedications of the aparche or dekate type, by dedicating a portion, might be dedicating the whole to the gods’ protection. (116) See Introduction, n. 34. (117) Hes. Theog. 535–57; cf. Hes. Op. 47–52. On this myth, see also Rudhardt (1970), Vernant (1980 [1974]), (1989 [1979]). However, in a real sacrifice, the gods often received more than just the inedible thigh‐bones: a portion of the splanchna, possibly bits of flesh (raw or cooked), and sometimes table offerings might also be offered. Scullion (2000) collects examples where more than the usual portions of thigh‐bone and fat were burnt for the gods, coining the term ‘moirocaust’ for the burning of a substantial portion (summarized in Scullion

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The Vocabulary of Aparche, Aparchesthai, and Related Terms (2009), 164–5). On the gods’ portions in Greek sacrifice, see also Van Straten (1988), (1995), 115 ff., Berthiaume (2005), Ekroth (2008a), (2008b), (2009). (118) E.g. Pherecrates, Automoloi fr. 28. K.–A., Eubulus, fr. 94 K.–A., Men. Dys. 447–53, Adesp. fr. *142 K.–A. (119) Theophr. Char. 21.7. (120) Jameson (1949), passim; see also Jameson (1988b), esp. 976.

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Religious Mentality in First Offerings

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

Religious Mentality in First Offerings Theodora Suk Fong Jim

DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.003.0003

Abstract and Keywords Existing studies of gift-giving practices tend to conceptualize human–divine relations in terms of quid pro quo. But this chapter offers a more differentiated and nuanced picture than that traditionally given: it argues that aparchai and dekatai concerned not merely the reciprocal exchange of goods and services in a mercantile sense, but might also involve, inter alia, elements of mutual goodwill, pleasure, gratefulness, anxiety, and fear for the future. Despite claims to the contrary, the Greeks were capable of other, less self-interested, motivations, such as a sense of indebtedness to and dependence on the divine. Notions such as ‘gratitude’ and ‘thanksgiving’, which have been curiously neglected or avoided in the study of Greek religion, will also be explored. Keywords:   motivations, indebtedness, dependence, gratitude, thanksgiving, goodwill, fear, anxiety, reciprocal gift‐giving

Contrary to the tendency in the vast majority of studies of Greek religion to focus on ritual performance,1 this chapter tackles the question of religious mentality, by which I refer to ancient worshippers’ motivations and intentions, and the psychology underlying their religious behaviour. This overlaps with and directly concerns their ‘beliefs’, that is, their religious world‐view, presuppositions, and statements (whether conscious or unconscious) about the gods. Despite the absence of scripture and dogma in Greek religion, recent studies have shown that ‘belief’ can be a valid and useful category if used in a low‐intensity sense.2 At the most fundamental level, as some scholars have recognized, ritual performance—or indeed the whole fabric of ancient Greek religion—presupposes the beliefs that the Greek gods existed, that they had Page 1 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings power to influence human affairs, and that they took delight in being worshipped and honoured.3 These do not, however, encompass all the religious beliefs entertained by the Greeks about their gods. Based on the premisses that cult acts were closely related to, and cannot be studied in isolation from, worshippers’ thoughts or beliefs, and that close examinations of religious phenomena can reveal much about the Greeks’ hopes, fears, and perceptions of the divine, the main concern of this chapter is why the Greeks would have presented these gifts to the gods, and what expectations and (p.60) motivations they might have had. As with any attempt to discover and interpret ‘mentalities’, the task is challenging as motivations are complex, elusive, and often difficult to pin down. It necessarily involves an element of speculation, as we can never be sure whether our interpretations would correspond to the Greeks’ own views. Without claiming that the ideas presented here are exhaustive, therefore, this chapter will explore the different facets of offering aparchai and dekatai, consider alternative interpretations to prevailing views, and offer a more differentiated and comprehensive picture of the practice than that traditionally given. The insights into gift‐giving provided by anthropologists’ close attention to the subject will be drawn on to illuminate the Greek practice. As first offerings belong to the larger category of religious offerings, the following discussion will at times touch on aspects that apply to other kinds of offerings and will shed light on the wider practice of presenting gifts to the gods in Greek religion.

I. A spectrum of attitudes Charis, reciprocity, and material returns

Central to our understanding of gift‐giving in ancient Greece is the fundamental value of charis in Greek religion. It is difficult to render this multivalent concept accurately and satisfactorily in English, but the basic idea is that gifts could be given to the gods in order to attain, or in return for having obtained, a pleasing return. This constituted a cycle of gifts and counter‐gifts between human beings and the gods, so that it is not always clear which side initiated the process first.4 In dedicatory inscriptions we sometimes find worshippers making explicit requests for further charis. One of our earliest examples of dekatai, a sixth‐ century bronze statuette from Thebes, bears this boustrophedon inscription on its thighs: Μάντικλός μ᾽ ἀνέθεκε ϝεκαβόλοι ἀργυροτόξσοι τᾶς {δ}δε|κάτας· τὺ δέ, Φοῖβε, δίδοι χαρίϝετταν ἀμοιβ̣[άν] (‘Mantiklos dedicated me to the Far‐ Shooter, the Silver‐Bowed one, from his tithe; do you, Phoibos, give a gracious (p.61) return’).5 Mantiklos was taking the opportunity of his present gift, offered presumably in return for some (unidentified) favour received, to ask Apollo for another favour. A late epigram ascribed to Apollonides shows a vine grower apologizing for the humble gift he has to offer and asking the deity nevertheless to give him more, so that the god might in turn receive great first offerings from his plentiful harvest: εἰ δὲ διδοίης πλείονα, καὶ πολλῶν, δαῖμον, ἀπαρξόμεθα (‘but if you gave more, daimon, we shall offer first‐fruits from an Page 2 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings abundance’).6 Like other gifts to the gods, aparchai and dekatai were also concerned with sustaining the cycle of charis between the human and the divine worlds. In Classical literature the circulation of charis between men and gods is sometimes conceived in terms of commercial exchange. The conflation between charis and trade is brought to the fore in a passage in Plato’s Euthyphro, in which one of the definitions given for ‘piety’ (ὁσιότης)7 is ‘knowing how to say and do what pleases (κεχαρισμένα) the gods when praying and sacrificing’; and it is suggested that sacrifice and prayer means in turn giving gifts to the gods and requesting gifts from them. Considering that man is to request what he needs from the gods and to present to them what they need from man, Socrates suggests defining piety as a skill of trading (ἐμπορικὴ τέχνη) between the two parties.8 This commercial view of human–divine relations features frequently in, and seems to be confirmed by, comedy. Aristophanes’ Wealth depicts the interaction as a practical economic arrangement from the outset. Zeus is said to rule over the gods because he has the most silver, and people sacrifice to him in the hope of sharing it. The allegiance of his worshippers, his priests, and the other gods is said to depend entirely on Zeus’ wealth. Accordingly, when Ploutos recovers his sight and effects the enrichment of all, it is natural that they should cease to be dependent on Zeus and other Olympian gods. These then come to suffer the same fate as the gods in the Birds do: deprivation of their accustomed offerings and starvation. Menander, in a playful critique of the meagreness of offerings (p.62) given in the hope of a substantial return, depicts a man calculating whether he will receive benefits proportionate to his spending: he reckons that he may gain an equal return for the ten drachmai he spends on a small sacrificial sheep, but the immense expenses of a feast will far outweigh this amount.9 The character’s careful calculation of his potential gain and loss presents us with an image of human–divine relations based purely on material interest. This give‐and‐take relation is often encapsulated conveniently in the formulae do ut des (‘I give so that you may give’) and da ut dem (‘give so that I may give’), which seem to find support in an abundance of sources.10 The attentive reader may have realized by now that Greek religion was a ‘practical religion’: an integral idea was that people could turn to the gods for all kinds of assistance in their everyday life,11 so that ancient worshippers did not consider it problematic to make offerings in the hope of an equal or greater return. Recent studies in the cognitive sciences have demonstrated that it is natural for worshippers to expect religion to have practical utility. Religions that appeal to people are those that can satisfy practical human needs and that align closely with how people naturally think and behave (such as interaction through gift‐giving), not ones based on some abstract theological god(s) with little resemblance to or concern for people.12 The practical aspect of religion is therefore not unique to ancient Greece, though the degree to which this was recognized as acceptable behaviour was perhaps greater than in some other Page 3 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings religious cultures: the Greeks took it for granted that the gods could serve their personal needs. That ancient worshippers should implicitly or explicitly expect the return of charis reflects great belief—the belief that the gods are able and willing to respond favourably to gifts received. Plenty of examples in literature suggest that the Greek gods took delight, or were thought to take delight, in gifts as men did. Euripides’ Medea insists on sending a poisoned robe and diadem to Jason’s new (p.63) wife, justifying her gifts as follows: πείθειν δῶρα καὶ θεοὺς λόγος· χρυσὸς δὲ κρείσσων μυρίων λόγων βροτοῖς (‘there is a saying that gifts persuade even the gods; and gold is more powerful with mortals than countless words’), which is a variant of the proverb δῶρα θεοὺς πείθει, δῶρ᾽ αἰδοίους βασιλῆας (‘gifts persuade the gods, gifts (persuade) revered kings’).13 In one strand of the Greeks’ perceptions of the divine, the gods were expected not only to react favourably to gifts, but also to be persuaded more easily by greater gifts. While many ancient authors are more or less consistent in stressing that the virtue of offerings lies not in their value, but in other factors, such as the individual’s moral character and the sincerity with which a gift was offered,14 these statements seem to point precisely to the reverse tendency in lived religion. Despite much reiteration of offering kata dunamin by ancient authors,15 the need for poor dedicators to apologize for the inadequacy of their gifts shows that a valuable offering is still preferable. Thus the vine grower we met earlier apologizes for the small gift he has to offer. The women in Herodas’ Fourth Mime ask Asclepius to accept a cock as they are not well‐off.16 The expectation that gods would respond to gifts, especially greater gifts, presupposes a considerable degree of anthropomorphism.17 Even after the Archaic period, during which gift‐exchange played a central role in society, reciprocity in human interactions never lost its prominence. The exchange of charis between individuals and between (p.64) cities was probably so pervasive in ancient Greek culture that it provided ready imagery by which the Greeks could imagine their dealings with the gods.18 By treating the gods as if they were human guest‐friends, the Greeks might have been trying to assimilate the human–divine relationship to that between men, thus bringing it within a comprehensible pattern.19 Each act of offering was an attempt to gain access to the inaccessible by facilitating the transmission of favours and linking the two spheres. Paradoxically, however, the division between the spheres of mortals and immortals was at once bridged and reinforced, since implicit in the offerings, especially gifts of the aparchai type which stressed the gods’ precedence (see below), was the recognition of the divine recipients’ higher honour and status, unlike human gift exchanges which might be conducted on a horizontal and more equal level.20

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Religious Mentality in First Offerings The phenomenon of reciprocal gift‐giving, and its significance in social relations, was brought to scholarly attention by the French anthropologist Marcel Mauss in his influential work The Gift, in which he argued famously for men’s three obligations to give, to receive, and to reciprocate. The gift, according to Mauss, is imbued with the hau or the personality of the giver, and engages the honour of both parties. Because of the bond between the giver and the gift, he argued, the act of giving creates social ties with an obligation to reciprocate; any failure to do so would be detrimental to one’s honour and status. Among other contentions of Mauss, what concerns us most is his treatment of gifts to the gods. By way of illustrating his theory of gift‐exchange in human societies, he mentioned briefly offerings to the gods and the dead as a fourth obligation. He considered it was most necessary to exchange, and most dangerous not to exchange, with the dead and the gods, who are ‘the true owners of the things and possessions of this world’. To Mauss, men’s gifts to the gods are capable of compelling their divine recipients to return greater gifts, and he saw sacrifice as ‘an act of giving that is necessarily (p.65) reciprocated’.21 Although Mauss’s ultimate concern was with the gift’s potential in creating and reinforcing social bonds,22 The Gift overstated the magnitude of the ‘binding’ power which a gift can create for its recipients, human or divine. Mauss overlooked the important fact that the reciprocal relationship between men and gods is far more unpredictable than in human gift‐exchange. In fact, one of the most salient features of interaction with the divine is uncertainty, but Mauss’s theory lacks the capacity to account sufficiently for the elements of the unpredictable and irrational. The reciprocal relationship between men and gods is never a straightforward matter of give‐and‐take. As Sahlins demonstrated convincingly in an important corrective to Mauss’s thesis, there exists a spectrum of reciprocities ranging from what he called ‘generalized’, via ‘balanced’, to ‘negative’ reciprocity. Exchanges may range from altruistic acts involving no clear expectation of return, to equivalent exchanges without delay of return, to self‐interested acts which hope to get something in return for nothing.23 The Greeks’ dealings with their gods are likely to have involved a spectrum of reciprocities. While there are cases where the gods are represented as feeling compelled to give favours because of the gifts they have received,24 there are plenty of counter‐examples that show that the Greek gods did not necessarily respond favourably to gifts received and that their workings were most unpredictable.25 Contrary to philosophical traditions that stress more or less consistently the gods’ benevolent nature, Greek tragedy is full of complaints that the gods are ungrateful. Euripides had the surviving Trojan women lamenting repeatedly that the city has sacrificed to the gods in vain.26 Another character of Euripides complains about the unfair difference between the fortunes of the irreligious and the devout: the impious, tyrannical, and (p.66) perjured are better off, whereas the pious are subjected to the former despite their worship of the gods.27 These complaints illustrate the disappointment in lived religion that, despite the Page 5 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings expectation of a reciprocal relationship between men and gods, the Greek gods could choose to respond or not, however and whenever they liked. Reciprocity therefore represents a religious ideal; in practice it remains impossible for men fully to discover the principles (if any) behind divine operation. To bring a gift to the gods is to enter into a relationship from which return will necessarily remain uncertain.28 Yunis describes this reciprocal relation well: The belief that the gods react to men on the basis of some form of a reciprocal relationship does not at all exclude the irrational element from the divine, or make the gods easily intelligible or entirely predictable. It rather excludes the possibility that the gods are utterly irrational, unintelligible, or unpredictable. The relationship of reciprocity may be uneven, unequal, or uncertain, but for the worshipper it must fundamentally exist.29 The unpredictable, inconsistent, and often unequal nature of reciprocity between men and the gods suggests that return could only be hoped for but not guaranteed. What is striking is not that people should offer gifts in the expectation of a return, but why they should continue to bring gifts to the gods when requital is by no means guaranteed. Reciprocity represents, however, only one aspect of the Greek concept of charis among many. The simple identification between charis and ‘reciprocity’ or ‘recompense’ is potentially misleading, as it neglects the elements of pleasure, delight, and goodwill in the relationship that the gift seeks to establish between its giver and recipient. Etymologically χάρις is derived from the verb χαίρω (‘I rejoice’).30 To present offerings to the gods is to bring them appropriate things in which they would take delight, to give them honour and esteem, and to express and reinforce the mutual goodwill between both parties.31 (p.67) For this reason many dedications were described as agalmata, ornaments or pleasing gifts for the deity, a word which later became a synonym for anathemata or statues.32 Despite the hope for a pleasing return, offerings were not the equivalent of ‘payments’ for services rendered by, or expected from, the deities on the basis of a business transaction.33 While reciprocity was doubtless a relevant concern in many aparchai and dekatai, we need not suppose that it was the primary motivation for every aparche or dekate, as the extent to which it was present probably varied from one individual to another, and from context to context. As we shall see in Chapter 5, a skilful mother in Athens who dedicated a marble object as an aparche late in her life using her earnings from (perhaps) handicraft work was likely to be making a thank‐offering for past fortunes rather than an investment for further material returns.34 The same may be said of the dedication of one’s tools of trade and other retirement offerings,35 which are more likely to be, inter alia, an expression of goodwill for the deity than an investment for any specific Page 6 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings benefits. The elements of mutual goodwill, pleasure, and joy that might be present in the exchange of charis makes the English word ‘reciprocity’ (with its emphasis on repayment) a potentially flawed translation, unless by ‘reciprocity’ we include elements of voluntariness, pleasure, and delight—that is, unless ‘reciprocity’ is used in a sufficiently nuanced sense that goes beyond the mercantile.36 The essence of charis lies less in the magnitude of the gift reciprocated than in the emotional charge it carried and the kindly feeling it evoked between its giver and recipient. By accentuating the contractual and transactional aspects of the gift, the widely accepted formulae do ut des and da ut dem have over‐simplified the complexity of human–divine interactions without adequately (p.68) capturing the different facets of charis that make it such an intangible and yet central value in Greek religion. Men’s debts and obligations to the gods

The circulation of charis between men and gods was unbalanced as well as uncertain. Given the unequal status between the two and the incommensurate nature of their gifts, men were in fact debtors to the deities in the process rather than equal partners in commercial exchange. Men’s obligations in relation to the gods, mentioned briefly by Mauss, are further developed by the French anthropologist Maurice Godelier in The Enigma of the Gift (1999, French original 1996). Among other contentions, Godelier argues that, in religious cultures where the gods are believed to provide life and the conditions of existence, a primordial debt to the gods is created from the outset. Nothing would seem to be sufficient to settle a debt of this kind and men are therefore under a perpetual debt to the divine powers. In his view, this asymmetrical relationship between men and gods provides a potent paradigm for creating and maintaining social hierarchies between the dominant class and the dominated in some societies. The Pharaoh in Egypt, for example, whose god‐like power was believed to cause the sun to rise and the Nile to flood, could elevate his status almost to that of a god and justify the continuous flow of material resources from the people to those in power.37 Although Godelier uses this notion of ‘debt’ for an entirely different purpose from ours, it provides useful insights for understanding the phenomenon of first offerings in ancient Greece. Aparchai and dekatai may be seen as a means of settling partially men’s debts to the gods, repaying the deities in part for their provision for mankind. This idea is borne out in Theophrastus’ fourth‐century treatise De Pietate or Περὶ εὐσεβείας (On Piety), which contains what was arguably the most extensive account of the origin and development of Greek sacrifice, and is the only available Greek source that discusses aparchai specifically at considerable length. The original treatise is now lost, but many of his arguments were borrowed by, and (p.69) provided the theoretical basis of, Book Two of Porphyry’s De abstinentia ab esu animalium (On Abstinence from Eating Animals) in the third century AD.38 To defend his thesis that animal sacrifice is inappropriate as a form of religious worship of the gods, Page 7 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings Theophrastus argues that aparchai made up of agricultural produce were the earliest and most pleasing kind of sacrifice.39 According to him, primitive men would sacrifice some grass, tree leaves, and fruits gathered from nature to the gods; when agriculture appeared, men began to offer grain, wheat, and cakes made of cultivated produce. Liquid offerings of wine, honey, and oil were also offered as aparchai as they became available for human consumption. However, men’s misery began when they departed from offering these simple and bloodless sacrifices. Starvation in times of war and famine led men to eat and sacrifice human beings. Animal sacrifice was at first a substitute for human sacrifice, then a manifestation of human greed. When men’s appetite could no longer be satisfied by fruits, they ate animals and gave some of them to the gods also; but these were considered inappropriate by the gods. The most ‘holy’ and pleasing offerings, the argument goes, were aparchai of agricultural produce. Although Theophrastus’ work belonged to an intellectual debate about meat‐ eating and cannot be taken at face value, it is a valuable and unique source expounding a theory on the custom of aparchai‐offering. Whether the earliest aparchai were taken from plants or animals, what emerges from Theophrastus’ account is that aparchai were customarily presented to the gods from whatever food it might be that was available to mankind. Underlying these portions of food and drink was the idea of returning to the gods a token of what they gave men in the first place. Theophrastus stresses throughout the role of the gods as providers of human sustenance, and thinks that for this reason men should sacrifice agricultural aparchai. For instance, when he mentions aparchai in the form of liquid offerings, he refers to the (p.70) divine recipients as ‘the gods responsible (for them)’ (ἀπήρχοντο καὶ τούτων τοῖς αἰτίοις θεοῖς).40 In his criticism of the Thoes in Thrace who made no aparchai, Theophrastus twice describes it as ‘right’ (ἥ θέμις ἀθανάτοις) and ‘just’ (καθάπερ ἦν δίκαιον) for men to render these offerings to the immortals, making explicit that gods had a rightful claim to aparchai.41 He further compares the reciprocal relationship between gods and men to that between human benefactors and beneficiaries: ἔπειτα τῶν εὐεργεσιῶν τὰς ἀμοιβὰς καὶ τὰς χάριτας ἄλλοις μὲν ἄλλας ἀποδοτέον κατὰ τὴν ἀξίαν τῆς εὐποιίας, τοῖς δὲ εἰς τὰ μέγιστα ἡμᾶς εὖ πεποιηκόσιν τὰς μεγίστας καὶ ἀπὸ τῶν τιμιωτάτων, καὶ μάλιστα εἰ αὐτοὶ εἶεν τούτων πάροχοι. κάλλιστα δὲ καὶ τιμιώτατα, ὧν ἡμᾶς οἱ θεοὶ εὖ ποιοῦσιν, οἱ καρποί· διὰ γὰρ τούτων ἡμᾶς σῴζουσιν καὶ νομίμως ζῆν παρέχουσιν· ὥστε ἀπὸ τούτων αὐτοὺς τιμητέον.42 Next, in the case of kindness one ought to make returns and do favours differently to different people in accordance with the value of the good deed. To those who have done us good deeds to a superlative degree, (our returns should be) the greatest and from the most honourable sources, especially if they be the providers of these things. The finest and most honorable of the things with which the gods do us good deeds are fruits. Page 8 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings For through these they preserve us and provide a regulated life. As a result one ought to honor them with these. In short, Theophrastus emphasizes the need to offer the greatest and most honourable gifts, in the form of agricultural aparchai, in honour of the gods, who have provided the greatest goods to mankind. The conceptualization of men as debtors in their relations with the gods is very common in different religious cultures, such as Judaism, Christianity, and Hinduism.43 Although our Greek sources nowhere describe it explicitly in such terms, this idea was not absent among the ancient Greeks. Theophrastus’ account aside, the most detailed discussion of men’s original debt to the gods is found in two passages in Xenophon’s Memorabilia. Some caution is needed here as they are part of an apologetic agenda intended to attest a certain religious outlook for Socrates, and it is unclear how representative these views are of ordinary worshippers. In Book One, Socrates argues with one (p.71) Aristodemus, who pays no heed to the gods and thinks that the gods pay no heed to men either. To argue that the gods exist and care for mankind, Socrates gives as evidence men’s natural endowments, such as the design of the human body, the intellect, the soul, and life‐preserving instincts. In response to the gods’ provisions, Socrates considers it right that men should honour them: ὅσῳ μεγαλοπρεπέστερον ἀξιοῖ σε θεραπεύειν, τοσούτῳ μᾶλλον τιμητέον αὐτό (‘the more splendidly it deigns to serve you, so much more it must be honoured’).44 In another conversation, with Euthydemus on the gods’ services to mankind, Socrates moves the focus to features of the natural environment: gods furnish men with the succession of day and night, the cycle of seasons, an abundance of food, water, and livestock to feed on. In short, he argues, one must see the gods at work in the world even though they are invisible. So many are the gods’ provisions for men that Euthydemus is disheartened because ‘no man can ever render due repayments to the gods for their benefits’ (ἐκεῖνο δὲ ἀθυμῶ, ὅτι μοι δοκεῖ τὰς τῶν θεῶν εὐεργεσίας οὐδ᾽ ἂν εἷς ποτε ἀνθρώπων ἀξίαις χάρισιν ἀμείβεσθαι).45 Euthydemus’ reflection brings out the point made earlier that the charis relations between men and gods are reciprocal but asymmetrical: what the gods provided cannot be equated in any way with such gifts as some crops of one’s harvest, a sacrificial victim, or a marble statue. These two passages provide one of the earliest literary references to, or forerunner of, the ‘argument from design’ in antiquity, in other words, the argument for the existence of the god(s) based on evidence of the works of nature that are arranged to suit man’s needs. This teleological way of thinking, widely present among ancient philosophers,46 was not confined to philosophical traditions. Such ideas were probably quite common among average Greeks already in the Classical period or earlier. Incidental allusions to similar notions are found in Herodotus, Euripides, and other authors.47 Perhaps because of their philanthropia, the Greek gods are Page 9 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings repeatedly (p.72) described as ‘giver(s) of good things’ (δῶτορ/δωτῆρες ἐάων).48 Their capacity to bestow benefits is further reflected in such epithets as Karpophoros (‘Fruit‐Bearer’), Ploutodotes/Ploutodoteira (‘Giver of Wealth’), and later Karpodotes/Karpodoteira (‘Giver of Fruits’).49 According to Plutarch, the Magnesians and Eretrians are said to have honoured Apollo at Delphi with the aparchai of their people (ἀνθρώπων ἀπαρχαί) on the grounds that he was ‘the giver of crops, the god of their fathers, the author of their being, and the friend of man’ (καρπῶν δοτὴρ καὶ πατρῷος καὶ γενέσιος καὶ φιλάνθρωπος).50 The origins of these ideas are uncertain; what is significant is that we have here a way of imagining the relations between gods and men which is useful for understanding aparchai and dekatai. Doubtless first offerings were offered in part out of a sense of indebtedness to and dependence on the gods, from whom all human provisions originated. In the words of the Neoplatonist Sallustius, ‘since everything we have comes from the gods, and it is just to offer to the givers first fruits of what is given, we offer first fruits of our possessions in the form of votive offerings, of our bodies in the form of hair, of our life in the form of sacrifices.’51 Although not all Greeks would put it in the same terms as Sallustius, the basic idea of having to repay one’s debt to the divine benefactors must have been fairly widely recognized. As Sophocles makes Tecmessa say, an act of kindness (χάρις) always begets another; a man who takes things for granted and lets the memory of past favours slip away is no (p.73) noble man.52 First offerings may be seen as expressions of indebtedness to the gods, repaying in part but not in full their benefactions. That aparchai and dekatai were offered in response to gifts from the gods, left implicit in most cases, is sometimes made explicit. In Theocritus’ Idyll VII, two Coans were holding a harvest festival in a local deme on Cos, during which first‐ fruits of their abundance were offered to Demeter: ‘this journey is to a harvest‐ festival, for comrades of mine are holding a feast for fair‐robed Demeter, giving first‐fruits of their abundance (ὄλβω ἀπαρχόμενοι); for in full rich measure has the goddess piled their threshing‐floor with barley.’53 This is a rare explicit statement outside philosophical traditions explaining the agrarian custom of offering aparchai: the individuals owe their bountiful harvest to Demeter; and it is in return for the goddess’s gift of barley that they honour her with first‐fruits of their abundance. Similar ideas are expressed in non‐agricultural contexts. In fourth‐century Athens, a family jointly dedicated to Athena Ergane a dekate ‘of your [the goddess’s] gifts’ ([σῶν δεκάτην δ]ώρων) in fulfilment of a vow: [Ἀθηναίαι Ἐργά]νηι Πολιάδι ἀνέθηκε [Δεινομένης? Λυ?]κίνο καὶ ἡ γυνὴ καὶ οἱ παῖδες. [σῶν δεκάτην δ]ώρων, θεὰ Ἐργάνη, εὐ[ξ]άμενός σοι [καλὸν Δεινομέ?]νης στῆσεν ἄγαλμα τόδε.54 Dedicated to Athena Ergane Polias by [Deinomenes? son of Ly?]kinos, his wife, and his children. In fulfilment of a vow to you, goddess Ergane, [a tithe of your g]ifts, Page 10 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings [Deinome?]nes set up this [beautiful] agalma.

If Wilhelm’s supplement may be relied upon, it is interesting that the dedicators should speak of their source of aparchai or dekatai as being from the goddess. Another dedicator, probably a fisherman, describes his gift as an aparche of the catch provided by Poseidon: [τέ]νδε κόρεν ἀ[ν]έθεκεν ἀπαρχὲν / [Ναύ(?)]λοχος ἄγρας : / ἓν οἱ (p.74) ποντομέδ[ον χρ]υ̣σοτρία[ι]ν᾽ ἔπορεν (‘[Nau?]lochos dedicated this kore as an aparche of the catch which the lord of the sea with the golden trident provided for him’).55 Both inscriptions state that the individuals were returning a portion of what the gods had granted them. To borrow Redfield’s words, aparchai and dekatai may be seen as returning ‘in part and in symbol what is essentially the property of the gods’.56 Developing Godelier’s idea of ‘debt’, we can further distinguish two kinds of debt: first, an ‘original debt’ stemming from the fact that the gods provided all conditions of human existence. First‐fruits in agricultural festivals and the gods’ share of food at meals (see Chapters 3 and 4) may be conceptualized in this way. But as the offerings can never fully settle the debt, they are ‘temporary discharges of a persisting obligation that is reciprocal between gods and men’.57 Second, debts occasioned by particular situations: a debt was created every time an individual came off well in an enterprise with divine assistance. This may relate to first offerings made on an ad-hoc basis, such as an aparche of a windfall from a voyage and a dekate of spoils after a successful campaign (see Chapters 5 and 6). Nevertheless, the distinction thus made between the two kinds of debt can be blurred or slippery in some cases: first‐fruits of agricultural produce may be thought of as settling an ‘original debt’ to the gods for providing the natural conditions for farming; at the same time they repaid an ‘occasional debt’ incurred when a community reaped a plentiful harvest. Godelier’s idea of ‘debt’ yields interesting results when applied to the circulation of gifts between men and gods. When a gift is presented to the deities, it effects not a cancellation of a debt but the creation of a new one and therefore a deepening of the ties between human beings and the gods. Any gift given on a particular occasion (whether by god or man first) has the potential to require a counter‐gift which is supposed to repay this debt but which at the same time creates another one. Although in theory—if we follow the ‘original debt’ model— men are indebted to the gods for everything from the outset, in practice gifts between men and gods create a state of mutual indebtedness, rendering it not entirely clear who is indebted to whom in the complex cycle of gift‐giving. Thus we often see worshippers (p.75) claiming divine help by reminding the gods of their debts to men created by past offerings.58 Croesus’ famous complaint on the pyre that Apollo should have been ashamed of the gifts received illustrates his expectation that the god was in his debt because of his valuable gifts.59 As Godelier puts it, ‘the giving of gifts and counter‐gifts creates a state of mutual indebtedness and dependence…To give therefore is to share by creating a debt Page 11 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings or, which amounts to the same thing, to create a debt by sharing.’60 Unlike an economic debt, a state which debtors want to be free of and to settle completely, it is desirable to remain in a relation of mutual indebtedness with divine benefactors. A worshipper might respond to a divine favour with a return gift, not necessarily to discharge or erase the debt, but to acknowledge it and at the same time to create a new one, thereby continuing an interdependent relationship with the gods.61 Gratitude and thank‐offerings

It is possible to interpret aparchai and dekatai as more or less commercial transactions between men and gods, and as a means of acknowledging and repaying in part one’s debt to the deities. But we can also adopt a different perspective and regard first offerings as tokens of gratitude made in recognition of the gods’ favours. In the early twentieth century, thanksgiving was considered irrelevant to the religion of ‘primitive’ peoples by some scholars. In The Golden Bough, Frazer saw first‐fruits as not so much an expression of thanks as a means of furthering worshippers’ own interests: ‘the Greek offering of first‐fruits [to Demeter] was prompted not so much by gratitude for past favours as by a shrewd eye to favours to come…the bucolic mind…is more apt to be moved by considerations of profit than by sentiment.’ In a similar manner Hewitt wrote: ‘it need scarcely be said that the thank‐offering is the result of an evolution… Apparently the (p.76) thank‐offering is far from a primitive form of sacrifice. Nor is gratitude, its emotional basis, a primitive emotion. It has often been pointed out that savages are to a remarkable degree lacking in gratitude, and that, in the moral development of the race, gratitude enters only late.’62 Such generalizing statements are based on the assumptions that thank‐offerings were a later and more ‘advanced’ development, and that values in ‘higher’ religions did or could not have existed in more ‘primitive’ cultures. While few historians would use such formulations today, thank‐offerings and the concept of ‘gratitude’ remain little studied in existing works on Greek religion, except in the articles by Versnel and Bremer,63 which were responses to the early twentieth‐century views expressed above. This curious neglect of, if not unwillingness to consider, ‘gratitude’ in the study of Greek religion may arise from a broader concern to distinguish ancient religions from Christianity, where the word seems to have a different aura.64 Related to this is the tendency in modern scholarship to characterize the ancient Greeks as what Versnel calls ‘desperately alien’, that is, to stress that the Greeks were fundamentally foreign to ourselves.65 Some scholars may object that, markedly differently from us, the ancient Greeks rarely made any explicit statements of thanks to their divine benefactors.66 This perspective risks overemphasizing potential differences and overlooking possible similarities with other religious cultures. Instead of assuming that the Greeks were incapable of gratitude, we ought to ask how different Greek attitudes were from our contemporary attitudes in expressing thanks and appreciation. Without confining the following investigation to any Page 12 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings one understanding of ‘gratitude’—a (p.77) seemingly familiar but in fact multilayered concept that defies a single definition67—I shall consider different possible manifestations of gratitude; but whether they were ‘genuine’ thanks or not is not for the historian to determine or something that we can answer.68 If we consider contemporary attitudes to human benefactors, it is not at all clear whether the frequent use of the phrase ‘thank you’ (and its variants) in English‐ speaking communities, articulated both verbally and in writing, should be interpreted as ‘gratitude’ or mechanical acknowledgement of a debt or something else. Sociolinguists have shown that children and adults often say ‘thank you’ even when they do not feel thankful, as the appropriate use of such expressions is an essential marker of proper manners in society.69 At the same time anthropologists have demonstrated that the ways gratitude is expressed and the incidence of its expression may vary greatly from one society to another. According to a revealing study by Appadurai, despite linguistic difficulties in saying ‘thank you’ in the Tamil language in South India, the people are deeply concerned about the proper expression of appreciation in social interactions and have no difficulties in showing it, such as by praising the gift received or its giver, or by making an appropriate return gift at the right time. Similarly, Katesi observes that Engwi, a language spoken in Zaire in Africa, lacks the exclusive linguistic forms for ‘thank you’. Yet its users, the Engwi, employ an array of other verbal and non‐verbal forms for expressing gratitude: by compliments, apologies, body gestures, and other actions, including reciprocal giving. He further notes that close family and social ties among the Engwi make verbalization of thanks almost unnecessary. Another ethnic group in South Africa, the Zulu, use gestural rather than verbal acknowledgements of thanks, but these expressions of appreciation may go unnoticed by English‐speakers, thus giving the impression that these people are (p.78) ungrateful. In South Asia, although there is no lack of phrases equivalent to ‘thank you’ in Marathi and Hindi, their speech communities rarely say ‘thank you’ in familial and commercial relations, unlike their American counterparts, as their cultural norms are against verbalization of gratitude where services and reciprocity are considered part of a person’s social duty and are therefore taken for granted. Different again are the Japanese, who, owing to their strong ethics of indebtedness, tend to equate gratitude with feelings of guilt and acknowledge their debts of gratitude with apologies.70 As a result of cultural variations, the difficulties encountered by non‐native speakers or foreigners can arise not only from linguistic factors but also from inadequate knowledge of the social values and customs in the target culture.71 These anthropological and socio‐linguistic studies demonstrate that, while expressions of thanks exist across cultures, it is accomplished differently in different societies, each of which may place varying emphases on the attributes that make up ‘gratitude’. Unawareness of the potential gulf in social conventions, values, and language‐use can easily lead to misunderstandings and Page 13 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings even communication failures. This also shows that part of the reason why ‘gratitude’ is such a difficult problem for historians lies not so much in whether a language has the equivalent words for ‘thank you’ as in our cross‐culturally different perceptions of what constitutes appropriate and adequate expressions of gratitude in a given culture, which may be understood differently by insiders and outsiders. In response to the claim that the Greeks lack explicit statements of thanks, whether in Greek prayers or in dedicatory inscriptions, let us note that the Greek word for ‘thank‐offering’, namely charisteria, was used in literary sources from the fourth century onwards and in epigraphic evidence from the third century BC. Xenophon tells us that when Cyrus was about to die, he offered animal sacrifices to ancestral Zeus and Helios and the other gods as τελεστήρια (‘fulfilment offerings’) and χαριστήρια (‘thank‐offerings’) for his many splendid enterprises.72 A dossier of inscriptions from Kafizin in (p.79) Cyprus, dated to the last quarter of the third century BC, records many vessels offered to a Nymph probably as tithes of some sort, some of which were described as χαριστήρια.73 The words χαριστήριον and χαριστήρια are also used in victory dedications of the Attalids in the third and second centuries BC.74 The variant χαριστεῖον, and the related word εὐχαριστήριον, are attested from the third and the second centuries BC onwards respectively for ‘thank‐offerings’ to the gods.75 Even before the emergence of explicit χαριστήρια, concepts that are close, but not identical, to the English word ‘thanks’ or ‘thank‐offering’ are not difficult to find. Several first offerings from the Archaic and Classical periods use χάρις or related words in their inscriptions;76 but the difficulty, as already discussed, is that χάρις has more than one facet and no single correct translation. Apart from χάρις, χαριστήρια, and their cognates, ancient Greek has other words denoting ‘thank‐offerings’ made in a variety of contexts, such as ἐλευθέρια (thank‐offering for freedom), εὐαγγέλια (for good tidings), ἰατρεῖα (for healing), ζωάγρια (for a life saved), θρεπτήριον (for nurture), νικητήρια (for victory), σῶστρα, σωτήρια (for saving), and the above mentioned τελεστήρια (for fulfilment). By specifying the purpose or the divine service in return for which the offering was (p.80) made, these words are comparable to and more specific than χαριστήρια.77 They show that, although the word χαριστήρια is not attested before the fourth century, the idea it denotes was certainly much older and variously expressed. Instead of saying ‘thank you’ overtly, the Greeks tended to express their gratitude to the gods by other means, such as by praising, hymning, and bringing an appropriate gift, accompanied sometimes by an inscription stating the gods’ favour.78 An individual might content himself with bringing an offering without specifying that it was a χαριστήριον or the like, as gratitude was implicit in the act of dedication itself (and sometimes the reason for dedication). The very act of presenting an aparche or dekate in response to divine favours may well be the Greeks’ expression of thanks. Perhaps because of the high value they Page 14 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings placed on exchanging charis in social and political interactions, the Greeks saw returning gifts as an appropriate way of expressing thanks and appreciation to the gods for benefits received.79 It may further be said that, as the cross‐cultural studies above have shown, there exist different levels of gratitude and different manifestations of it, ranging from silent acknowledgements, physical gestures, and more concrete actions, to the verbalization of thanks. Therefore we need not suppose that gratitude necessarily entails an intense emotional and/or verbal response. Insofar as ancient worshippers took the initiative by presenting a part offering in recognition of the gods’ favours, we can identify in their gifts and actions tokens of gratitude.80 While the ‘genuine’ emotions of the Greeks are irrecoverable, what we can observe is the occasion on which aparchai and dekatai were typically offered. As will become apparent in the subsequent chapters, first offerings were backward‐ looking in nature, presented almost invariably after some benefits were received. Unlike some other gifts which might be offered to the gods when the need to beseech (p.81) them arose, there is a strong tendency for aparchai and dekatai to be made in response to some divine favour bestowed. Thus it is after a successful hunt, not before, that one should render thank‐offerings to the gods, as Arrian reminds us: τούτοις χρὴ πειθομένους, καθάπερ ἐπ᾽ ἄλλῳ τῳ ἔργῳ, οὕτω δὲ καὶ ἐπὶ θήρᾳ ἄρχεσθαί τε ἀπὸ θεῶν καὶ χαριστήρια θύειν εὖ πράξαντας καὶ σπένδειν καὶ εὐφημεῖν καὶ στεφανοῦν καὶ ὑμνεῖν καὶ ἀπαρχὰς τῶν ἁλισκομένων ἀνατιθέναι, οὐ μεῖον ἢ ἐπὶ νίκῃ πολέμου ἀκροθίνια.81 It is necessary for us, being persuaded by these examples, as in any other undertaking, so also in hunting to begin from the gods and sacrifice thank‐ offerings when we have done well, and pour libations and keep religious silence and offer garlands and sing hymns and dedicate first offerings of the catch, no less than first offerings of war to Nike. The retrospective aspect of first offerings cannot be adequately encapsulated in the currently accepted formulae of do ut des and da ut dem, which emphasize benefits to come instead of benefits received. Instead it is more appropriate to see in first offerings the mentality of do quia dedisti. Although gratitude for past favours and the hope of future benefits could coexist in any act of offering, first offerings did not normally initiate the cycle of charis between men and gods, but were usually given in response to some success or benefit already attained or obtained. Their dedicators might then use the opportunity of the present first offerings to ask for further favours. It is their backward‐looking character which makes them akin to thank‐offerings. We have seen that the difficulty with studying ‘gratitude’ in Greek religion is not a lexical one: the ancient Greeks did not lack terms with which to denote ‘thank‐ Page 15 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings offerings’ explicitly. At the same time a community’s pervasive use of the English phrase ‘thank you’ (or its variants) need not imply that its people are more prone to feeling grateful, or vice versa. Nor is the problem a behavioural one: the Greeks could express their gratitude to the gods in different ways, and an appropriate return gift might be regarded as an expression of such. Instead, the difficulty lies more generally in discovering and (p.82) interpreting worshippers’ thoughts and intentions, and in the impossibility of isolating ‘gratitude’ from other possible motivations. A much‐quoted passage from Theophrastus’ De Pietate mentioned earlier states that sacrifice should be made to the gods ‘either on account of honour or on account of gratitude or on account of a want of good things’ (ἢ γὰρ διὰ τιμὴν ἢ διὰ χάριν ἢ διὰ χρείαν τῶν ἀγαθῶν).82 This statement may also apply to other gifts to the gods, but we need not think that these three reasons are exhaustive or mutually exclusive: an array of different motivations can exist simultaneously, so that we cannot reduce the act of offering to either one reason or another.83 Any offering could combine multiple intentions, with the possibility that gratitude might exist simultaneously with, inter alia, the hope for material return, the desire for self‐advertisement, competition and display (see below), and other intentions. For example, Aelius Aristides dedicated a silver tripod to Zeus as a thank‐offering to the god, on the one hand, and as a memorial of the choral performances, on the other (ἅμα μὲν τῷ θεῷ χαριστήριον, ἅμα δὲ μνημεῖον τῶν χορῶν οὓς ἐστήσαμεν).84 The coexistence of several seemingly contradictory motivations was not perceived by the Greeks as inconsistent or problematic, and it is not easy to judge which one was primary, which secondary. It is the mixture of different elements which makes it difficult to see first offerings, or any gifts to the gods, as intrinsically thank‐offerings. Doubtless some aparchai and dekatai, such as those made at retirement (see Chapter 5), were offered more in a spirit of thanksgiving for past favours than as investments for further return. But another first offering might have been motivated mainly, if not exclusively, by the hope of gaining future benefits. We therefore need to consider each act of offering in its own context. Whether a gift should be interpreted as an expression of gratitude, a commercial exchange, or an inextricable mixture of both can be a matter of interpretation dependent on, inter alia, the contextual information available, our own cultural assumptions and social values, and the perspective we choose to take. (p.83) Honour and priority of the divine

Compared with other gifts to the gods, aparchai carried a stronger emphasis on the priority of the divine. The idea of precedence is reflected not only in the etymology of the word (related to the verb ἄρχω, ‘begin’), but also in actual cult practice. Before partaking of his meal, Cyrus would first offer the gods a portion of his food (ἀπαρξάμενος).85 Great care was taken by Cyrus to ‘take out’ (ἐξαιρέω) the gods’ portion before the rest of the booty was distributed among the army.86 There seems to have been a concern in many activities, from Page 16 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings routines as trivial as daily meals to large‐scale undertakings like military campaigns, that the gods be given their share first. This brings out well one of Ischomachus’ principles in life, namely that ‘I begin by cultivating the goodwill of the gods’ (οὕτω δὴ ἐγὼ ἄρχομαι μὲν τοὺς θεοὺς θεραπεύων),87 by which he refers to all aspects of life and not just estate‐management. Xenophon’s characters may be said to embody a pious ideal. As we shall see in the subsequent chapters, however, there is ample evidence outside Xenophon’s world that many (but not all) first offerings were customarily set aside for the gods before human use of the rest. Although all gifts to the gods can be said to confer honour, first offerings, because of their emphasis on the precedence of the divine recipient, might have particular potential for establishing the gods’ timai. The motif of divine wrath in the event of neglected first offerings is best understood in this light. Theophrastus tells us that when the Thoes offered no aparchai to the gods, they were snatched from the earth. In myths, when king Oeneus sacrificed aparchai from his harvest to all deities except Artemis, the goddess took offence and sent a boar to ravage the fields in Calydon.88 The gods’ grudge against (p.84) those who made no aparchai confirms the point made earlier that they had, or were perceived to have, a claim to a share of the goods they provided, and that it was considered offensive not to render to the gods their due. The need to honour the gods with aparchai is therefore closely related to the fear of divine wrath, which we shall discuss shortly. Euripides’ Aphrodite puts it well: ‘for among the race of the gods also is this (trait): they take delight when honoured by men’ (ἔνεστι γὰρ δὴ κἀν θεῶν γένει τόδε: τιμώμενοι χαίρουσιν ἀνθρώπων ὕπο). The goddess is essentially saying, by the use of the word kai, that the same holds true for gods as for men. One of Xenophon’s religious ideals is that men should remember the gods not only in their hour of need, but also in prosperity.89 There are many more passages that reiterate the fact that the gods relish being honoured by mortals.90 But the few examples here suffice to show that, like human beings, the Greek gods took delight, or were thought to take delight, in receiving honour for their services to mankind. In comic fantasies the gods are sometimes represented as hungry for mortals’ offerings,91 but in reality any sustenance that men provide to divine powers contributes to their cults’ honour and prestige, rather than their physical and material well‐being. In Theophrastus’ view, even a small food‐offering as an aparche confers great honour on the gods.92 In the fourth century a woman set up a marble dedication to Athena Ergane as an aparche in honour of the goddess’s favour (τιμῶσα χάριν σήν).93 Regardless of their form and value, first offerings may be considered as gifts of honour. As Euthyphro concludes, after a series of questions by Socrates, what the gods get from men’s gifts is not so much practical benefits as τιμή, γέρας, and χάρις.94 This overlaps with Theophrastus’ reasons for making sacrifices to the gods mentioned earlier: to honour them, to give thanks, or to seek good things (ἢ γὰρ διὰ τιμὴν ἢ διὰ χάριν Page 17 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings ἢ διὰ χρείαν τῶν ἀγαθῶν).95 Gift‐giving therefore invokes complex relations of mutual interdependence between men and gods. (p.85) Averting evil

We saw earlier the kindness of the Greek gods in caring for mankind’s wellbeing. Nevertheless, the gods had a malignant as well as a benevolent side. At the end of the Iliad, Achilles consoles Priam with these words: ‘For two urns are set on Zeus’ floor of gifts that he gives, one of ills, the other of blessings. To whomever Zeus, who hurls the thunderbolt, gives a mixed lot, that man meets now with evil, now with good.’96 This view of human life as a mixture of good and bad fortune that varied at the whim of the gods is a common motif in comedy and tragedy. Tragedians repeatedly put in their characters’ mouths the idea that all human affairs are subject to rises and falls, and that the gods are responsible for allocating success and failure in an arbitrary manner.97 The unpredictability of divine operation is constantly reflected upon by tragic characters.98 There is a tendency in Greek literature to attribute ill‐fortune and the inexplicable to the gods, and hence we find the idea of ‘god‐sent misfortunes’.99 Because of its genre and plots, it is not surprising that Greek tragedy emphasizes the dark and dangerous side of the gods. Tragedy plays out doubts and scepticism about these which are seldom articulated in other sources: it is hard to imagine the Greeks criticizing the gods in public or expressing such views in their dedicatory inscriptions, even if it was with mixed feelings of gratitude, fear, and doubt that they presented their offerings.100 Such literary representations therefore offer another perspective on how the gods were perceived in popular (p.86) Greek thought and imagination, different from that in the philosophical traditions, which, as we have seen, tend to emphasize the gods’ philanthropic aspect. First offerings might have been a way of coping with the random nature of the gods and the unpredictability of human fortune. That token offerings might help to maintain good relations with the divine powers is suggested by Xenophon’s Hermogenes, who claims that the gods, despite their dual potential to do good or ill, are most well‐disposed towards him. When asked to relate his secret for keeping the gods friendly, Hermogenes explains that he performs ‘a very economic service’ to the gods, which involves praising them, always restoring to them part of what they give him (ὧν τε διδόασιν ἀεὶ αὖ παρέχομαι), and avoiding profanity in speech.101 Hermogenes’ ‘always restoring to them part of what they give’ may be considered as a strategy for maintaining a healthy relationship with the gods and warding off evil. From the fate of the Thoes and king Oeneus seen earlier, it was probably considered dangerous not to render first offerings to the gods, who had a claim to them. The fear of owing the gods their due is alluded to in Plato’s Republic: in the course of a discussion about the usefulness of money, Cephalus tells Socrates that its greatest use is in settling debts, so that one need not fear going to the other world while owing any sacrifice to a god or money to a person (μηδ᾽ αὖ ὀφείλοντα ἢ θεῷ θυσίας τινὰς ἢ Page 18 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings ἀνθρώπῳ χρήματα ἔπειτα ἐκεῖσε ἀπιέναι δεδιότα). This leads Socrates to suggest ‘giving back whatever one may have taken from someone’ (τὸ ἀποδιδόναι ἄν τίς τι παρά του λάβῃ) as one of the definitions of justice.102 The passage brings out the possibility that some first offerings were made in the fear of being indebted to some god, and that any outstanding debt could not be erased even by death. Perhaps for this reason an Athenian offered a dekate to Athena to fulfil the vow made by his (presumably deceased) child.103 Since a debt was created every time an individual came off well in an enterprise, any failure to acknowledge it by giving the gods their (p.87) due might trigger divine vengeance. As every reader of Greek literature knows, anyone who deemed himself especially fortunate or successful in life might arouse divine phthonos and be struck by the gods’ wrath.104 Moments of success were therefore very often times of anxiety: one might fear whether the present fortune would last and whether some higher powers needed to be placated.105 Given the jealous and vengeful nature of the gods,106 how human and divine contributions were assigned after any successful activity could be a delicate matter. The division of the benefits received between gods and men, with a preliminary portion set aside in honour of the gods, recognized implicitly the role of the divine. Offering the first shares to the gods had the effect of demonstrably putting the gods first as the chief author of human achievements while at the same time humbly recognizing the part of mortals as secondary. Burkert compares giving to the gods to the phenomenon of surrendering and making partial sacrifices in the natural world. It is a natural instinct, Burkert observes, in human beings and animals to avert danger by giving up a valuable or precious part in order to save the rest.107 Thus a lizard will cut off its tail to escape when pursued by predators. In some societies, worshippers might cut off one of their fingers to procure recovery of their health; in myths, a community might sacrifice one of its members for the salvation of all when catastrophes struck. On this view, it was primarily for the sake of saving the rest from danger that a manageable loss was made. Although Burkert is right to point out the apotropaic aspect of some offerings, we have no reason to suppose that every first offering was motivated by imminent danger. As the material in later chapters will illustrate, aparchai and dekatai were typically offered when worshippers came off well but not in situations of danger. It is more appropriate to think of the permanent state of uncertainty in which men found themselves in life rather than a particular situation of threat as a motivating factor in making first offerings. Human helplessness and insecurity were permanent features in ancient Greek societies. Xenophon has Socrates say to Critobulus (p.88) that just as men in war try to propitiate the gods with sacrifice before taking military action, in matters of husbandry it is no less necessary to ask the gods for blessings. He convinces Critobulus to agree that he should ‘try to begin every activity with the Page 19 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings help of the gods, because…they control the activities of peace no less than those of war’.108 However, warfare, agriculture, and animal husbandry are not the only areas in life in which men depended on the gods. Xenophon has Ischomachus give a fairly comprehensive list of what he prays for: good health, physical strength, distinction in the city, goodwill among friends, deliverance with honour in war, and wealth.109 Aristophanes’ Peisetaerus tells how the Birds can provide men with success in agriculture, safety at sea, wealth, health, and a good old age as gods do.110 The range of benefits hoped for shows that the Greek gods’ influence was seen as pervasive in many aspects of life.111 Giving the gods priority in human activities, such as by offering them the first‐fruits of seasonal produce or part of the spoils of war, might have been a means of propitiating the gods in order to ward off potential disasters. First offerings, therefore, apart from being tokens of thanks and gifts of honour, might also have been rites with an apotropaic role. The averting of evil and propitiation for divine favours are but two sides of the same coin. It is the ‘ultimate unknowability’112 of divine operations which makes it inadequate to regard gift‐giving between men and gods as an ἐμπορικὴ τέχνη, and which points to the need to understand the phenomenon more fundamentally in terms of the psychological needs of the ancient worshippers. First offerings might have been motivated not so much by the expectation of material benefit as by the psychological need for a ‘safe anchor’ in life.113 Offering a portion to the gods might have been a way of coping with the permanent undercurrent of anxiety and uncertainty. Each of the aparchai and dekatai dedicated might express the dedicator’s anxiety, hope, and fear for the future. In this respect the psychology of first offerings to a certain extent resembles that of insurance in the modern world. There (p.89) is no guarantee of recompense on every occasion, but often one would still prefer to have one’s life or property insured for the sake of psychological assurance in view of future uncertainties. In the words of Bernstein, ‘we buy insurance because we cannot afford to take the risk of losing our home to fire—or our life before our time. That is, we prefer a gamble that has 100 per cent odds on a small loss (the premium we must pay) but a small chance of a large gain (if catastrophe strikes) to a gamble with a certain small gain (saving the cost of the insurance premium) but with uncertain but potentially ruinous consequences for us or our family.’114 By giving up a small part of the benefits received, first offerings were probably a similar means of managing the risks and uncertainties of everyday life. Another means of coping with fear and unease about the future was by oracular consultation.115 The oracular sanctuary of Zeus Naios (and his consort Dione) at Dodona, with its large number of questions presented by private individuals and to a small extent Greek cities, provide valuable glimpses into the everyday concerns of the ancient Greeks. The Corcyraeans and the Oricians asked to which god and hero they should sacrifice and pray in order that their city might enjoy security, a good and abundant harvest (εὐκαρπία καὶ πολυκαρπία), and Page 20 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings profit from their harvest. The Tarentines enquired about their general prosperity (παντυχία). A couple asked to which god, hero, or daimon they should pray and sacrifice in order that they themselves and their household might fare better and more prosperously both now and for all time (λῶιον καὶ ἄμεινον πράσσοιεν καὶ αὐτοὶ καὶ ἁ οἴκησις καὶ νῦν καὶ ἰς τὸν ἅπαντα χρόνον).116 Unlike many consultations at Dodona and Delphi, these questions did not arise from any particular crisis or decision; instead they betray the Greeks’ concern about the general uncertainties of life and the unknowable future. Traditionalism, social convention, and individual initiative

The offering of aparchai and dekatai, as we have seen, was a ubiquitous and customary practice in ancient Greece. In a religion without (p.90) sacred books, how did ancient worshippers know that presenting a first offering in a particular situation was an appropriate way of honouring and communicating with the gods? It was obviously not by instruction in school or by enforcement by religious officials,117 but by following the same custom as one’s parents and grandparents, and by seeing other members of the community making such offerings. The safest course in life was perhaps to follow without deviation traditional customs practised by, and effective for, most people. The numerous aparchai and dekatai on the Athenian acropolis or at other sanctuaries, and the accompanying inscriptions alluding to the practice, could reinforce belief in the efficacy of the cult practice and encourage other individuals to act similarly.118 The importance of ancestral custom, rarely alluded to in individuals’ dedicatory inscriptions, is explicitly stated in two decrees issued by Athens and Miletus respectively, in which ‘ancestral custom’ was used to justify other cities’ contribution of aparchai.119 We shall examine these two intriguing documents in greater detail in Chapter 7. Meanwhile it is sufficient for our purpose to note that their appeal to ancestral custom demonstrates the expectation that traditional expressions of piety, here the offering of aparchai, were expected to be perpetuated. Yet it was not necessarily for ‘religious’ reasons that a traditional practice was continued. Individuals might follow tradition for a range of reasons or without any specific motivation; some people might also carry on an established custom without ever realizing its religious significance.120 (p.91) The prescriptive nature of rituals has been emphasized by Humphrey and Laidlaw in their study of the Jain rites of worship in western India. While acknowledging that participants are conscious and voluntary agents capable of ascribing whatever meaning they like to the cult acts, they argue that rituals are socially stipulated, with a pre‐existing model for performance external to and prior to the actor’s own performance. One learns the rites by being told or shown what to do and copying it; and their successful performance is independent of the propositional meanings that individuals may attribute to the acts and the intentions they may have. This leads Humphrey and Laidlaw to suggest that ‘the actors both are, and are not, the authors of their acts’.121 Not all of Humphrey’s and Laidlaw’s ideas are applicable to the custom of making Page 21 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings first offerings in ancient Greece;122 what is relevant for our purpose is the dual relationship they observe between rituals and worshippers. Surely the custom of offering aparchai and dekatai was socially prescribed: individuals did not invent this form of action, but adopted a pre‐existing custom available within their culture. Nevertheless, we need not assume that the ancient worshippers would follow social conventions without thought. Even within the framework of a traditional practice, there was plenty of room for individuals to exercise choices and decisions regarding whether to make an aparche or dekate, and if so, in what form and value, to which deity, what to inscribe on the object, when to bring it, and where to set it up. Far from merely adhering to established norms and customs, worshippers could actively adapt tradition according to their own needs and circumstances. The material in Chapter 5 in particular will illustrate the flexibility of the custom and the role of individuals in shaping the practice. Display, competition, and commemoration

Like other gifts to the gods, aparchai and dekatai had potential for display and self‐advertisement for the individuals bringing them. (p.92) Given the typically brief nature of dedicatory inscriptions, the dedicator’s name usually figures prominently.123 Some first offerings make overt mention of the individual’s achievement, be it athletic victory, manumission, civic rewards, or other successes.124 One Melinna, who apparently brought up her children with her own work, set up a dedication on the Athenian acropolis as an aparche and a ‘memorial of her labour’ (μνήμη ὧν ἐπόνησεν).125 By identifying one’s name and deeds, the objects could commemorate their bringers’ achievements as well as the gods’ services to mortals. Seen thus, the act of offering was not so much giving to the gods as setting up a memorial for one’s own deeds.126 The choice of durable (instead of sacrificial or perishable) offerings by some worshippers also reflects a desire to leave behind a tangible and lasting memorial. When worshippers and worshipping communities vied for prestige, gifts to the gods might take on a ‘secular’ aspect and acquire a competitive edge. Offerings might be set up on a scale and in a manner so ostentatious as to turn the religious practice into a show of wealth and power. Military tithes illustrate most clearly the antagonistic aspect of first offerings. Set up predominantly in Panhellenic sanctuaries, victory offerings and their accompanying inscriptions (which often identify the defeated city) were manifestly a vehicle for interstate rivalries (see Chapter 6). However, the Greeks seem to have seen no conflict between dedication as an expression of piety and as an act of competitive display.127 Pausanias’ distinction between dedications in Olympia for the gods’ honour and for the athletes’ self‐glorification probably represents an exception to the normal Greek attitude regarding dedicatory practices.128 In first offerings, as in other gifts to the gods, piety could go hand in hand with the desire for self‐ advertisement.129 De Polignac puts it aptly: ‘Offerings to the gods are at the heart of a triangular relation: between dedicator and deity…; between dedicator and community, since the offering said something about his identity, status and Page 22 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings role in this community; and (p.93) also between god and community…’130 In other words, Greek religious offerings did not only constitute a simple bilateral relationship between men and gods, but also concerned members of the community and other communities.131 Glorification of oneself and one’s success, while certainly relevant in some cases, should not obscure the possibility that some dedications commemorated the gods’ services. Long ago Björck compared confession inscriptions to the Epidaurean cure inscriptions, emphasizing the function of both in advertising the gods’ power.132 Although most dedicatory inscriptions are brief and uninformative about the gods’ works compared to the Epidaurean texts, some of them speak explicitly of the gods’ arete. For example, two dedicatory inscriptions (not related to first offerings) stress the good works of the gods with the phrase ἀντ᾽ ἀγαθῶν ἔργων (‘in return for (the god’s) good deeds’) and make no mention of the hope for further charis.133 Another individual presented to Aphrodite an aparche of the good things (ἀπαρχὲ τõν ἀγαθõν) (which he has received) and asked the goddess to give him plenty.134 We have already encountered two Athenians who spoke of the catch provided by Poseidon and the gifts from Athena respectively.135 At Elataia in the third century BC an individual bringing to Athena an ‘akrothin[ion] from his pious work’ (ἐξ ὁσίων ἔργων ἀκροθίν·[ιον]) stressed his piety, on the one hand, and conferred everlasting words of praise on the goddess, on the other ([ἱ]ερ[ὸ]ς [ἀνὴρ] κοσμεῖ ἀειμνήστοις εὐλογίας ἔπεσιν).136 Amid other motivations, it is possible to see these offerings as a means of acknowledging, publicizing, and propagating the deity’s arete. As was mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, these acts of offering testify to the Greeks’ belief in the existence and the power of the gods. It is hard to believe that individuals would set up dedications on the Athenian acropolis without recalling what the gods had done (p.94) for them in the past and were capable of doing in the future. For other visitors to the sanctuary, the numerous dedications could serve as tangible memorials of the gods’ workings. Apart from being the instruments of display and self‐advertisement that they are often considered to be, first offerings should also be seen as a means of expressing and reinforcing belief—belief in the gods’ ability to intervene in human affairs and their desire to be honoured for their deeds. While the physical and inscribed nature of some first offerings might make them potential instruments of display and competition, we should not forget that the act of setting up a first offering (or other anathemata) in a sanctuary seems to have involved no ostentatious or elaborate ritual,137 and that first offerings were not necessarily valuable objects, but could range from bronze and marble monuments to inexpensive items such as pottery, vessels, personal items (see Chapter 5), agricultural produce (see Chapter 3), and specimens of food and drink (see Chapter 4). Cyrene provides us with miscellaneous fragments of vases Page 23 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings dedicated as dekatai to Apollo.138 Among the inscribed fragments discovered in the temple of Athena at Ialysus on Rhodes are pottery sherds inscribed with the words apargma or dekate.139 These items offered little scope for display and are more appropriately seen as token offerings. It is unfortunate that the surviving evidence is unrepresentative, with humble offerings in perishable material having been irretrievably lost and so inevitably escaping our attention. We should further remember that innumerable dedications have come down to us uninscribed, which shows that explicit statements of one’s identity, achievement, and/or written records of ‘transactions’ with the gods were not always felt to be necessary by ancient worshippers. Louis Robert drew attention to early Christian texts in which the dedicator remains completely anonymous, but which bear such formulae as οὗ ὁ θεὸς τὸ ὄνομα οἶδεν (‘whose name God knows’), and suggested that similar sentiments might explain the lack of inscriptions in some dedications in the Greek world: it was considered unnecessary to do so, as the Greek gods would know.140 (p.95) Anonymous dedications raise the possibility that they were prompted by, among other factors (such as illiteracy and considerations of the cost of inscription), piety and the wish to honour and maintain relations with the gods. Nevertheless, according to the identification criteria discussed in the introductory chapter, aparchai and dekatai in the material record generally cannot be identified by the observer unless they were inscribed.

II. Conclusion The array of mentalities presented here shows that the phenomenon of first offerings is too multifarious and complex to be reduced to any single explanation. Depending on the context, the available information, and the observer’s perspective, inter alia, one or another element or a combination of elements may gain prominence and the others fade into the background. Focusing our attention on certain facets of first offerings can easily lead us to disregard the others. Without claiming to be exhaustive or definitive, therefore, the different possibilities considered above are meant to reveal the multifaceted nature of gift‐giving, to add new dimensions to prevailing views, and to offer a more comprehensive picture of the phenomenon than has hitherto been given. It emerges that a whole spectrum of attitudes, ranging from the more ‘religious’ to the more ‘secular’, could be present in any single act of offering aparchai and dekatai, and that different motivations were often inextricably mixed. Worshippers and worshipping communities could have several different motivations concurrently in presenting aparchai and dekatai, or they might have no very clear or specific motives at all. The degree to which each element was present might vary from one individual to another, and from context to context, so that each act of offering has to be considered in its own situation. The coexistence of multiple and seemingly contradictory motivations, far from being seen as incompatible or unacceptable to the Greeks themselves, testifies to the flexibility of the custom in (p.96) accommodating different needs, and the Page 24 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings multifaceted nature of gifts to the gods is what makes them such a fascinating subject for study for historians. Across the spectrum of religious mentalities, an underlying common idea can be identified, namely, a sense of dependence on the gods. Whether it was to give thanks and honour, to repay a debt, to establish bonds with the gods, to seek divine protection, to pray for further benefits, or to avoid the gods’ wrath, the act of presenting a part of something acknowledged implicitly the gods’ involvement in human affairs. Making aparchai and dekatai was a way of coping with the random nature of the gods, who were considered the source of both good and evil, and upon whom human fortune depended. In the following chapters we shall look more closely at the ancient sources pertaining to different kinds of first offerings in a variety of contexts, and shall probe further into possible motivations in specific contexts along the way. Notes:

(1) E.g. Deubner (1932), Nilsson (1948), Burkert (1985) (see now revised edn Burkert (2011) ), Price (1984), esp. 10–11, Bremmer (1994), Price (1999), esp. 3. (2) ‘Low intensity’ and ‘high intensity’: originally Van Baal’s (1976) distinction in relation to rituals, this is adopted by Versnel (2011), 548, in relation to the use of the word ‘belief’ in Greek religion. On recent discussions of ‘belief’ in Greek religion, see Introduction, n. 53. (3) Three basic beliefs: see Yunis (1988), King (2003), Versnel (2011), esp. 552–3. (4) On reciprocity in Greek religion, see Festugière (1976), MacLachlan (1993), Bremer (1998), Parker (1998). (5) CEG 326, Lazzarini (1976), no. 795, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 277, no. 30 (tr. adapted from Parker). (6) Gow–Page, GP, I, 128–9, II, 149, no. 2, Anth. Pal. 6.238, perhaps first century AD. (7) On the meaning and translation of ὁσιότης, ὅσιος, and related terms, see e.g. Jeanmaire (1945), Connor (1988), Rudhardt (1992 [1958]), 30 ff., Mikalson (2010), 6–7, ch. 4, Blok (2011), (forthcoming). (8) Pl. Euthphr. 14b–e; cf. Pl. Plt. 290c–d. (9) Ar. Plut. 130 ff., cf. Ar. Av. 1515–24; Men. Methe fr. 224 K.–A. (10) E.g. Hom. Il. 7.81–3, 10.291–4, IG I3 728, Ar. Pax 390–9, 416–24, Plut. 133–4, Herod. 4.86–8. Such notions are widely accepted in modern scholarship, whether the formulae are used explicitly or not: e.g. Harrison (1903), Festugière (1976), Burkert (1979), 54, Van Straten (1981), 73, Grottanelli (1989–90), Page 25 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings Pulleyn (1997), ch. 2, Parker (1998), esp. 107–8, 111–14, Bremer (1998), 130–1, Kearns (2010), 89–90. (11) See Burkert (1987a), 12–29. (12) Tremlin (2006), 112. (13) Hes. fr. 361 Merkelbach–West, quoted in Pl. Resp. 390e; Eur. Med. 964–5. See also Ar. Pax 192–3, 416–24. (14) E.g. Arist. Eth. Nic. 1163b.15–18, Pl. Leg. 955e, Alc. II.148d–149e, 150a, Xen. Mem. 1.3.3, 4.3.16–17, Isoc. 2.20, 7.29–30, Theophr. Piet. fr. 7.33–6, 7.52–4, 9.1–8, 8.20–2 Pötscher = Porph. Abst. 2.13.4, 15.3, 19.4, 61.1. See also Sen. Ben. Book 1 (e.g. at 1.6.1–3, 1.9.1, with commentary in Griffin (2013) ), and Sen. Ep. 81.6, who stresses that what counts is the intention and spirit with which a benefit (beneficium) is given, not the magnitude of the service or material benefit itself, nor the prospect of return. Cf. Hippoc. Aer. 22, who argues that a Scythian disease cannot be divine because, if it were, it ought to have attacked the poor in particular, as the gods are supposed to take delight in men’s rich offerings and return the favour. (15) E.g. Hes. Op. 336–7, Xen. Mem. 1.3.3, 4.3.16. (16) Herod. 4.14–20; Gow–Page, GP, I, 128–9, II, 149, no. 2, Anth. Pal. 6.238. See similarly Anth. Pal. 6.25 (attributed to Julianus, Prefect of Egypt), 40 (attributed to Macedonius Consul), 77 (attributed to Eratosthenes Scholasticus). (17) Resemblance between gods and men: e.g. Griffin (1980), 82 ff., 167–70 (in Homer), Gould (1985), esp. 15–16. Recent studies in the cognitive sciences have contributed towards explaining the human mind’s tendency to think of the gods as exchange partners: see e.g. Boyer (2001), 198, Barrett (2004), ch. 4, esp. 53– 4, Tremlin (2006), ch. 4, esp. 109–21. (18) On reciprocity in the Archaic and Classical periods, see Gill, Postlethwaite, and Seaford (eds) (1998). Reciprocity between Greek cities: e.g. Gauthier (1985), Mitchell (1997), Low (2007), 36–76. (19) Parker (1998), esp. 120. (20) Lazzarini (1989–90), 845–6, distinguishes human gift exchange on a horizontal level (expressed by the verb διδόναι) from the unequal and vertical relation between men and gods (expressed by ἀνατιθέναι). (21) Mauss (1990 [1925]), 14–17. (22) The international and intellectual contexts in which The Gift was written and its moral implications are discussed in Douglas’ foreword in Mauss (1990 Page 26 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings [1925]), vii–xviii, and Geary (2003). As Geary reminds us, Mauss did not intend to advance a universal theory of gift‐exchange, but a moral treatise against the rise of laissez‐faire capitalism and individualism in the wake of the First World War. He sought to ground contemporary social and international relations in the same bonds of gift‐exchange that held together the ‘archaic’ societies which he studied. (23) Sahlins (1974). (24) E.g. Hom. Il. 4.48–9, 22.169–72, Od. 1.64–7. (25) E.g. Hom. Il. 6.305–11, Hes. Op. 483–4, Aesch. Ag. 69–71, Eur. Alc. 132–5, Pl. Alc. II.138b, 148d, Xen. Cyr. 1.6.46. (26) Eur. Tro. 1060–80, 1240–2, 1280–1; discussed in Parker (1997), 154–5. (27) Eur. Beller. fr. 286 Kannicht. (28) The uncertainty of return is emphasized in Osborne (2004), 2–3, and recently Gudme (2013), 193–6 (on gift‐giving in the Hebrew Bible, but many of her observations are also relevant to Greek religion). (29) Yunis (1988), 53. (30) Chantraine (1968–80), vol. 4, 1247–8, s.v. χάρις, Beekes (2010), vol. 2, 1606– 7, s.v. χαίρω. (31) On the elements of esteem and friendship in human–divine gift‐giving, see Festugière (1976), esp. 389, 413–14, Yunis (1988), esp. 100–11. Cf. Patera (2012), esp. 78–9, who suggests that we need not think of human–divine relations in terms of goodwill and friendship, given that the two parties were of unequal status, and that their relationship was not disinterested. (32) On the word agalma in dedicatory formulae, see Lazzarini (1976), 95–8, 276– 80, Keesling (2003), 10. (33) Yunis (1988), 102, Parker (1998), 119. (34) IG II2 4334. (35) E.g. IG XIV 643, IGASMG IV no. 15: a bronze axe dedicated as a dekate of a sacrificial slaughterer’s work. (36) For a more nuanced understanding of ‘reciprocity’ and its distinction from commercial exchange, see Yunis (1988), passim, the introduction to Gill, Postlethwaite, and Seaford (eds) (1998).

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Religious Mentality in First Offerings (37) Godelier (1999 [1996]), esp. 29–31, 186–7, 193–8. Godelier’s notion of a perpetual debt resembles to a certain extent Sahlins’ ‘generalized reciprocity’, in which an unbalanced exchange places the recipient under ‘the shadow of indebtedness’; see Sahlins (1974), esp. 207–8. (38) Scholars have tried to distinguish between passages in Porphyry’s De abstinentia that were extracted from Theophrastus’ De Pietate and those that were Porphyry’s own composition. I follow the identifications of Pötscher (1964) and Fortenbaugh et al. (1992) in this respect. There are occasional slight variations in the Greek texts in Pötscher (1964) and Fortenbaugh et al. (1992). All Greek passages of Theophrastus cited here follow Pötscher (1964); all translations are that of Fortenbaugh et al. (1992), unless otherwise stated. (39) Theophrastus’ view of piety is discussed in e.g. Obbink (1988), Bruit Zaidman (2001), chs 10–11, Fortenbaugh (2003a). (40) Theophr. Piet. fr. 2.39–43 Pötscher = Porph. Abst. 2.6.4. (41) Theophr. Piet. fr. 3.8–18 Pötscher = Porph. Abst. 2.8.1–2. (42) Theophr. Piet. fr. 7.4–10 Pötscher = Porph. Abst. 2.12.2. (43) See Godelier (1999 [1996]), 194–8. (44) Xen. Mem. 1.4.2–18 (quotation at 1.4.10). Summarized and discussed in Parker (1992), Sedley (2007), 78–86. See also Xen. Mem. 1.1.19, where Xenophon says that Socrates considered the gods heedful to mankind. (45) Xen. Mem. 4.3.2–17 (quotation at 4.3.15). (46) Philosophical traditions are discussed in Sedley (2007), passim. (47) E.g. Hdt. 3.108.2, Eur. Supp. 195–215, Ar. Thesm. 13–18. These passages are collected in Parker (1992), 87–8, with additional passages and discussion in Parker (2011), 3–6. (48) E.g. Hom. Od. 8.325, 335, Hymn. Hom. 18.2, 29.8, Hes. Theog. 46, 111. The forms ἐάων and ἑάων are discussed in Heubeck, West, and Hainsworth (1988), 369 (on Hom. Od. 8.325), Kirk et al. (1985–93), vol. 6, 331 (on Hom. Il. 24.528). (49) Demeter Karpophoros: IG II2 4587, 4730, SEG XXX 1341.5. Ploutodotes/ Ploutodoteira: Hes. Op. 126 (daimones of the earth), Philo, De posteritate Caini, 32 (theos), I.Cret. IV 244.1 (Isis). The related epithets Karpodotes and Karpodoteira appeared rather late: e.g. BE (1977), no. 335 (Dionysus), SEG XL 1145 (Zeus?), SEG LIV 1017 (Poseidon), TAM V.1 426 (the Nymphs). (50) Plut. De Pyth. or. 402a (tr. Babbitt).

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Religious Mentality in First Offerings (51) Sallust. De diis et mundo 16.1: ἐπειδὴ πάντα παρὰ θεῶν ἔχομεν δίκαιον δὲ τοῖς διδοῦσι τῶν διδομένων ἀπάρχεσθαι, χρημάτων μὲν δι᾽ ἀναθημάτων, σωμάτων δὲ διὰ κόμης, ζωῆς δὲ διὰ θυσιῶν ἀπαρχόμεθα (tr. Nock (1926), 29). There are slight variations in terms of capitalization and punctuation in the Greek texts of Nock (1926) (the version cited here) and Rochefort (1960). Mankind’s relationship with their divine benefactors is to some extent analogous to that with their parents: see Pl. Leg. 717b5–c3, Arist. Eth. Nic. 1163b.12–18. (52) Soph. Aj. 522–4; see also Arist. Eth. Nic. 1133a.3–5 (on the association between the cult of the Graces and gratitude), Sen. Ben. 3.1–5 (on ingratitude and forgetfulness of past benefits as a vice). (53) Theoc. Idyll 7.31–4: ἁ δ᾽ ὁδὸς ἅδε θαλυσιάς· ἦ γὰρ ἑταῖροι / ἀνέρες εὐπέπλῳ Δαμάτερι δαῖτα τελεῦντι / ὄλβω ἀπαρχόμενοι· μάλα γάρ σφισι πίονι μέτρῳ / ἁ δαίμων εὔκριθον ἀνεπλήρωσεν ἀλωάν / (tr. Gow). (54) IG II2 4318; cf. Hansen’s supplements in CEG 759: [‐∪∪‐ δ]ώρων θεὰ Ἐργάνη, εὐ[ξ]άμενός σοι (line 3). (55) IG I3 828, DAA 229. (56) Redfield (1941), 116. (57) Expression of Redfield (1941), 115. (58) E.g. Soph. El. 1376–83, Trach. 993–5. (59) Hdt. 1.87, 90. See also Adkins (1975), 134–5. (60) Godelier (1999 [1996]), 48. Godelier’s insights have also been applied by Satlow (2005) to Jewish offerings in late antiquity. (61) The difference between debts of gratitude and economic debts is discussed in e.g. Watkins et al. (2006), esp. 241. Schwartz (1967), 8 (or 77 in reprint), noted that the ‘balance of debt’ should never be brought to a complete equilibrium, or it will be the end of the reciprocal relationship. (62) Frazer (1911–15), vol. 7, 49, Hewitt (1914), 77; similar views are also expressed in Hewitt (1912). See also the ‘abnegation theory’ of sacrifice in Tylor (1871), vol. 2, 359–61. (63) Versnel (1981a), 42–62, Bremer (1998), esp. 128–30. (64) Fear of imposing ‘Christianizing assumptions’ on Greek religion: see e.g. Price (1984), 10 ff. Despite the importance of thanksgiving and gratitude in Christianity, I have found remarkably little discussion of these ideas in scholarly literature, which tends to focus on the grace of God or Christ rather than responses to it. On the differences between ancient Greek and Christian usages Page 29 of 35

Religious Mentality in First Offerings of the Greek words χάρις, εὐχαριστέω, εὐχαριστία, and their cognates, see Kittel (ed.) (1965–76), vol. 9, 372–415. (65) The position of the ‘desperately alien’ school is summarized and criticized in Versnel (2011), 10–16. (66) As noted by Hewitt (1912), Beer (1914), esp. 125, 133, Hewitt (1914). (67) Gratitude has been variously described and conceptualized by scholars in different disciplines: see some of the views summarized in Emmons (2004), 4– 10. Accordingly, depending on the definition one adopts, a particular behaviour may or may not constitute ‘gratitude’. (68) Versnel (1981a), 45, notes similarly that to speak of ‘true’ or ‘unequivocal’ expressions of thanks is to introduce a subjective element into the discussion. (69) The social value of these expressions is discussed in e.g. Ferguson (1976), Greif and Gleason (1980), Eisenstein and Bodman (1993). Note that ‘thank you’ may have different usages in American English and British English, and may serve functions other than expressing gratitude: see e.g. Hymes (1971). (70) Apte (1974) (South Asia), Coulmas (1981b) (Japan), Katesi (1986) (the Engwi in Africa), Appadauri (1985) (South India), Wood (1992) (the Zulu in Africa), Katesi (1994) (the Engwi in Africa). (71) Thomas (1983) calls the former ‘pragmalinguistic failure’ and the latter ‘sociopragmatic failure’. (72) Xen. Cyr. 8.7.3: Ζεῦ πατρῷε καὶ Ἥλιε καὶ πάντες θεοί, δέχεσθε τάδε καὶ τελεστήρια πολλῶν καὶ καλῶν πράξεων καὶ χαριστήρια. Helios was an object of Persian worship; but as Tuplin (1990), 26–8, notes, apart from a few references to Helios (and Ge) in the Cyropaedia, Cyrus’ gods and rituals were Greek rather than Persian ones. See also Gera (1993), 55–73, esp. 55–6, who argues that Xenophon’s Cyrus resembles a pious Greek rather than a Persian in religious matters. (73) Mitford (1980), nos 119, 124, 139, 147, 193, 206, 229, 253 (some of these are partially supplemented); with recent discussions in Jim (2012b), Papantoniou (2012), 141–7. (74) E.g. OGIS 269, 273, 280, 328. See also Schol. vet. Ar. Eq. 729a, Schol. vet. Ar. Plut. 1054 f on the aetiology of the Athenian festival Proerosia: the scholia describe the aparchai of crops sent by the Greeks to the Athenians as χαριστήρια in gratitude for the Athenian performance of a sacrifice on behalf of all to avert a mythical plague or famine (καὶ οὕτως ὥσπερ χαριστήριον οἱ πανταχόθεν τοῖς Ἀθηναίοις ἐξέπεμπον τῶν καρπῶν ἁπάντων τὰς ἀπαρχάς).

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Religious Mentality in First Offerings (75) Χαριστεῖον: I.Knidos 138 (Cnidus, third century BC?), IG XII.3 416 (Thera, first century BC), 420 (Thera, undated). Εὐχαριστήριον: Polyb. 5.14.8 (τοῖς θεοῖς ἔθυεν εὐχαριστήρια), SEG LVII 577 (Διονύσῳ Σωτῆρι εὐχαριστήριον, Macedonia, second century BC). LSJ s.v. εὐχαριστήριος, s.v. χαριστεῖον. The related words εὐχαριστέω and εὐχαριστία have been studied by Schermann (1910), Beer (1914), 118–31, Robert (1955), 55–62, (1960), 27–8. (76) E.g. CEG 326 (χαρίϝετταν ἀμοιβ̣[άν]) (700–650 BC), IG I3 647 (τε̑ι δὲ θεο̑ι χαρίεν) (c.510–500 BC), 711 ([χά]ριν ἀντι[δίδο]) (c.500–480 BC), 872 (σοὶ χάριν ἀντ[ιδιδός], τõνδε χάρ[ιν]) (c.450 BC?), IG II2 4334 (τιμῶσα χάριν σήν) (after c. 450 BC). (77) The evidence is collected in Jim (2012a), to which add ἰατρεῖα in e.g. I.Délos nos 2116–17, 2120. (78) See Quincey (1966) (by praise), Rudhardt (1992 [1958]), 199 (by hymns), with further discussions in Versnel (1981a), 42–62, and Pulleyn (1997), 39–55. (79) See n. 18 above. (80) Different levels of gratitude: see e.g. Webb (1996), 49: ‘[gratitude] can be an aspect of a vague attitude or intense emotion, or it can be organized in value systems, elaborate rituals, and daily, habitual activities.’ (81) Arr. Cyn. 36.4 (tr. adapted from Phillips and Willcock); see also Arr. Cyn. 33, Xen. Cyr. 4.1.2. (82) Theophr. Piet. fr. 12.42–9 Pötscher = Porph. Abst. 2.24.1. (83) Theophrastus’ neat schema is criticized by Van Straten (1981), 66–7, and Mikalson (1991), 189. (84) Aristid. Or. 50.45 Keil. (85) Xen. Cyr. 7.1.1. (86) E.g. Xen. Cyr. 4.1.2, 5.3.2, 5.3.4, 7.3.1, 7.5.35. Only in the last passage is the word akrothinia used for the god’s portion of spoils; but the other instances may also be considered as such. (87) Xen. Oec. 11.8. (88) Thoes: Theophr. Piet. fr. 3.8–18 Pötscher = Porph. Abst. 2.8.1–2. Oeneus: Hom. Il. 9.533–6, Eur. Meleager, fr. 516 Kannicht, Ar. Ran. 1240–1, Apollod. Bibl. 1.8.2. See also Bacchyl. 5.94–102: Oeneus tried in vain to redeem his fault with prayer and sacrifice. For other instances of human misfortune attributed to

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Religious Mentality in First Offerings divine resentment caused by neglected offerings, see e.g. Hom. Il. 23.862–5, Od. 4.351–3, Soph. Aj. 176–8, Eur. Hipp. 145–50, Paus. 10.11.2. (89) Eur. Hipp. 7–8, Xen. Cyr. 1.6.3, Eq. mag. 9.9. (90) See Mikalson (1991), 183–202. (91) Ar. Av. 1515–24. cf. Hymn. Hom. Cer. 305ff. (92) Theophr. Piet. fr. 9.12–15 Pötscher = Porph. Abst. 2.20.1. (93) IG II2 4334. (94) Pl. Euthphr. 15a. (95) Theophr. Piet. fr. 12.42–9 Pötscher = Porph. Abst. 2.24.1. Fortenbaugh (2003a), 187, with n. 41, thinks that Theophrastus seems to imply, by the order of the three reasons, that honour is the most important. (96) Hom. Il. 24.527ff.: δοιοὶ γάρ τε πίθοι κατακείαται ἐν Διὸς οὔδει / δώρων οἷα δίδωσι κακῶν, ἓτερος δὲ ἑάων· / ᾧ μέν κ᾽ ἀμμίξας δώῃ Ζεὺς τερπικέραυνος, / ἄλλοτε μέν τε κακῷ ὅ γε κύρεται, ἄλλοτε δ᾽ ἐσθλῷ (tr. Murray and Wyatt). The dual aspects of the Greek gods are also reflected in Hymn. Hom. Ap. 189ff. A related image is that of Zeus’ scales symbolizing an individual’s fate: e.g. Hom. Il. 8.73–4, 19.221–4, 22.208–13. The randomness of divine actions in Homer is discussed in Griffin (1980), 130–1, 162. (97) Tragedy: e.g. Soph. Aj. 383, 1077–80, Eur. Hec. 488–91, 958–60, Phoen. 555– 8, Supp. 549–55, Tro. 612–13, Andr. frs 150, 152, Oedipus fr. 554, Telephus fr. 716 Kannicht. Comedy: e.g. Ar. Thesm. 724–5, Men. Dys. 271–87, 797–812, Epit. 1096–8. See also Hdt. 1.32.9. More passages can be found in Versnel (2011), 151–8. On dual aspects of the gods, see also Parker (1997), Versnel (2011), ch. 2. (98) E.g. Aesch. Supp. 93–5, Eur. HF, 62, IT 475–8, Thyestes fr. 391 Kannicht. (99) Aesch. Pers. 294, Sept. 719 (the characters’ troubles are qualified by the phrase θεῶν διδόντων). (100) Fear as a motivation for making dedications is mentioned in Rouse (1902), 310, and emphasized in Mitchell (1993), vol. 2, 12. (101) Xen. Symp. 4.47–9. (102) Pl. Resp. 331b–c. See also Pl. Phd. 118a, according to which Socrates’ last words were ὦ Κρίτων, ἔφη, τῷ Ἀσκληπιῷ ὀφείλομεν ἀλεκτρυόνα: ἀλλὰ ἀπόδοτε καὶ μὴ ἀμελήσητε (‘Crito, we owe a cock to Asclepius; please repay it and do not neglect it’); but this line has been variously interpreted, see e.g. Burnet (1911),

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Religious Mentality in First Offerings 118, Gill (1973), 27–8, Most (1993), Rowe (1993), 295–6, and recently Kamen (2013). (103) IG I3 735, DAA no. 283. (104) E.g. Hdt. 1.34.1, Soph. Aj. 127–33, 758ff. (105) Also observed by Burkert (1979), 53, (1996), 152–5. (106) On divine envy, see e.g. Walcot (1978), chs 3–4, esp. 25–6, 46–51, Ghidini (2011); cf. Lanzillotta (2010). (107) Burkert (1987b), 44–6, (1996), 34–55, 152–5. (108) Xen. Oec. 5.19–20, 6.1: καλῶς μοι δοκεῖς λέγειν κελεύων πειρᾶσθαι σὺν τοῖς θεοῖς ἄρχεσθαι παντὸς ἔργου, ὡς τῶν θεῶν κυρίων ὄντων οὐδὲν ἧττον τῶν εἰρηνικῶν ἢ τῶν πολεμικῶν ἔργων (tr. Pomeroy). (109) Xen. Oec. 11.7–8. (110) Ar. Av. 586ff. See also Pl. Ti. 27c. (111) On perceived areas of divine intervention, see also Mikalson (1983), 18–26. (112) Expression of Sourvinou‐Inwood (1997a), 173. (113) Expression of Burkert (1987a), 28. (114) Bernstein (1996), 203–4. (115) On oracular consultation as a means of ‘risk management’, see Eidinow (2007). (116) Lhôte (2006), nos 2 (Corcyraeans and Oricians), 5 (Tarentines), 8a (couple); see also no. 116. (117) Except in some cases where first offerings were made obligatory: see Chapters 7 and 8. (118) E.g. a late honorific decree from Nysa in Caria, recently published in Ertuğrul and Malay (2010), prohibits the removal from the sanctuary of the offerings and cult tables that had been offered to the gods by a family. One of the reasons given is so that these objects’ presence might encourage others to adorn the gods (τοῖς ἄλλοις ταῦτα κείμενα προτροπὴν ἐμποιῇ τ̣ο̣ῦ̣ τ̣ο̣ὺ̣ς θεοὺς κοσμεῖν) (lines 28–30). (119) IG I3 78.4–5, 25–6, 34, Milet I.3, no. 141.33–4.

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Religious Mentality in First Offerings (120) In Chinese culture, for example, mooncake (origins unclear) was the main food offering during the Mid‐Autumn festival celebrated on the fifteenth day of the eighth lunar month (on which see e.g. Wong (1967), 144–51, Latsch (1985), 67–78, Qixin et al. (1998), 38–42). Today mooncakes continue to be symbolically offered to the moon and consumed by members of the household on the occasion, but the practice has become so conventional and commercialized that few people realize its religious significance. This is perhaps inconsequential for most people; what matters more seems to be the enjoyment of the Chinese delicacy and a day’s relief from work. See also Ath. 7.297d (on the Boeotian custom of sacrificing eels), an anecdote illustrating the importance of observing ancestral customs without any need of explanation to others. (121) Humphrey and Laidlaw (1994), passim, quotation at 5. (122) E.g. their idea that the physical form, correct performance, and efficacy of ritual acts can be completely divorced from individuals’ motivations and intentions is better suited for explaining liturgical rituals than the making of first offerings. Most aparchai and dekatai were not accompanied by a sequence of ritual actions, and their physical forms, placements, and timing could vary greatly according to individual choice. (123) Discussed in Keesling (2003), 24–35. (124) E.g. IGASMG IV no. 2, Forrest (1963), 54, no. 3 (= SEG XXII 509), IG II2 2939 (= 4339) (see Chapter 5). (125) IG II2 4334. (126) Burkert (1987b), 49, Parker (2004a), 276. (127) Parker (2004a), 270. (128) Paus. 5.21.1, 5.25.1. (129) The impossibility of separating these different elements is also noted by Veyne (1983), 292, 294. (130) De Polignac (2009a), (2009b), 441. (131) The women in Herod. 4.20–38, 56–78, illustrate this well: while making a thank‐offering in a temple of Asclepius, they paused to admire the dedications set up by others. (132) Björck (1938), 125ff. Cf. Pleket (1981), 183–4. (133) CEG 332, IG VII 1794, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 278 no. 48 (fifth century, Thespiai); CEG 818, IG IV2.1 237 (early fourth century, Epidaurus); Parker (1998), 110–11.

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Religious Mentality in First Offerings (134) CEG 268, IG I3 832, DAA 296 (c.480–470? Athens). (135) IG I3 828, DAA 229; IG II2 4318; cf. Hansen’s supplements in CEG 759. (136) IG IX.1 131. (137) Parker (2004a), 270. (138) E.g. SEG IX 303–4, 307, 309–12, Suppl. epigr. ciren. (in ASAA NS 23–4 (1961–2), 219–375), nos 49(3), 151–2, SEG XLIV 1541 nos 6–8; these are republished in Maffre (2007), with new fragments previously unpublished in nos 46–51 (SEG LVII 2002). (139) SEG XXXVIII 783 a–d, f; Martelli (1988), 113–15. (140) Robert (1982), 132 (776 in reprint), Robert (1983), 572 (416 in reprint). On the Christian dedicatory formula οὗ ὁ θεὸς τὸ ὄνομα οἶδεν (‘whose name God knows’) (or similar): see e.g. BE (1956), nos 23, 100, BE (1964), no. 533 (with references to further examples), BE (1970), no. 383, BE (1971), no. 408. Although Greek dedicatory inscriptions in our period carry no similar expressions, the idea that ‘the gods know’ may be relevant as Robert suggested.

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Agricultural First Offerings

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

Agricultural First Offerings Theodora Suk Fong Jim

DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.003.0004

Abstract and Keywords This chapter examines agricultural festivals and other occasions when the Greeks would present the first-fruits of the land’s produce to the gods. It questions the claim, going back to Frazer and followed by many scholars, that first-fruits rendered the rest of the food ‘holy’, ‘safe’, or ‘permissible’ for human consumption by lifting the ‘taboo’—a misconception indiscriminately applied to Greek religion from other cultures. In fact the notion of prohibition on consumption is not supported by ancient Greek sources. Nothing prevented the Greeks from using their crops before rendering a share to the gods. Instead, the signficance of this agrarian practice has to be understood in terms of the permanent risks and uncertainties experienced by agricultural societies. Keywords:   agricultural festivals, taboo, prohibition, consumption, agrarian practice, agricultural societies

We can no longer trace whether aparchai and dekatai originated from agrarian practices, but agricultural first‐fruits doubtless constituted the most basic and simplest kind of all first offerings. In order to fully appreciate their role in ancient Greek societies, where agricultural labour was a central part of daily life, some background knowledge of the agricultural cycle is necessary. There were considerable local variations in the timing of agricultural activities and the kind of crops grown, but generally speaking ploughing and sowing took place in autumn and early winter, with wheat and barley being the main cereal crops. The grain harvest took place at the beginning of the summer, followed by threshing and processing for storage throughout the summer. After that, various kinds of vegetables and fruits would be gathered over the autumn.1 While Page 1 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings farmers were busily engaged in these tasks, they did not forget to worship the gods for the well‐being of their crops. Accompanying the agricultural year was a series of festivals, each celebrating a different moment in the cycle of seasons but complementary to each other.2 Among the diversity of agrarian festivals, this chapter will focus on the Proerosia, Thargelia, Pyanopsia, and Thalusia, which involved the communal offering and possibly consumption of various kinds of festival foods analogous to aparchai. None of these festivals is explicitly termed a ‘first‐fruits festival’ by the ancients; their identification is based on the ancient uses of the word aparchai and its synonyms in (p.98) the sources.3 Although agricultural offerings are not only attested in Attica, Athenian festivals predominate in what follows because of the concentration of available evidence. This includes a combination of (relatively piecemeal) Classical and Hellenistic sources and later allusions to the custom by ancient commentators and lexicographers. After discussing the communal offering of first‐fruits during these celebrations, we shall look at offerings presented by individual farmers on other occasions, and finally consider the role and significance of these offerings in agricultural societies.

I. Agricultural festivals related to first‐fruits Proerosia

The Proerosia was a pre‐ploughing sacrifice or festival documented in five demes of Attica, with varying names, dates, and divine honorands attested.4 An inscription shows that the Proerosia in the deme of Eleusis was proclaimed on the fifth of Pyanopsion in autumn and probably took place on the sixth.5 This rite at Eleusis was the most prestigious and had probably become a polis festival by the last quarter of the fifth century. One tradition had it that a mythical plague or famine afflicted all the Greeks (or all mankind), in view of which the Athenians performed a pre‐ploughing sacrifice on behalf of all in accordance with oracular advice. Because of this, aparchai of (p.99) corn were brought to Athens as thank‐offerings (χαριστήρια) by all the Greeks.6 However, another tradition, based on Demeter’s gift of corn, justifies aparchai sent to Athens in terms of the mission of Triptolemus: corn first appeared at Eleusis and was distributed by Triptolemus to the rest of mankind.7 Both traditions stress the benevolence of Athens and the gratitude and offerings owed to the Athenians by the Greeks. We must not confuse the two kinds of offerings associated with the Proerosia: a pre‐ploughing sacrifice and aparchai of crops. Photius refers to the Proerosia as ‘the sacrifice for the crops performed by the Athenians in obedience to the oracle at Elis’; and the Suda explains its purpose more fully: ‘sacrifices taking place before ploughing for the future crops, that they may be brought to maturity; performed by the Athenians on behalf of all the Greeks in the fifty‐sixth Olympiad’.8 It was in gratitude for this sacrifice performed on behalf of all that aparchai of crops were sent to the Athenians by the Greeks. As the scholia to Page 2 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings Aristophanes explain, ‘and so as thank‐offering the Greeks from all directions sent aparchai of all crops to the Athenians’.9 According to these traditions, the aparchai were primarily thank‐offerings (χαριστήρια) addressed to the Athenians rather than to the gods. While the two kinds of offerings are related in myth, in practice it is less clear whether there would necessarily be aparchai of crops whenever the Proerosia was celebrated. In other words, in historical times it is unclear if the offering of aparchai was a regular custom associated with the Proerosia. The occasion might have been (p.100) celebrated with a pre‐ploughing sacrifice without aparchai being involved. Epigraphic evidence, admittedly all piecemeal, only attests to sacrifices in various Attic demes without any mention of aparchai.10 However, a mid‐fifth century decree of the deme Paiania has an ambiguous reference to ‘pre‐ploughing barley’ (πρεροσιάδες κριθαί).11 Did this barley constitute aparchai of agricultural produce brought by worshippers to the local Proerosia? But even if this was the case, what we have here would seem to concern a communal custom within Attica to bring aparchai. There is no evidence for Panhellenic contributions of aparchai to Athens or Eleusis during the Proerosia—that is, unless we assume that the aparchai requested in the famous Eleusinian first‐fruits decree in the fifth century were dispatched to Eleusis on the occasion of the Proerosia.12 As we shall see in Chapter 7, the decree required the Athenians and their allies, and invited the other Greeks at large, to send aparchai of wheat and barley to the two goddesses at Eleusis without specifying the occasion for their collection. Meanwhile we shall focus on the Eleusinian practice’s similarities to, and possible links with, the Proerosia. Similar to the Proerosia, the Eleusinian first‐fruits decree shares the same myth of Triptolemus’ mission; it also mentions the performance of sacrifices, which were to be financed with the proceeds from the sale of the agricultural aparchai collected. The decree claims three times that the practice was ‘in accordance with ancestral customs and the oracle in Delphi’ (κατὰ τὰ πάτρια καὶ τὲν μαντείαν τὲν ἐγ Δελφο̑ν), implying that it had been a practice of old to dispatch aparchai to Eleusis.13 Nevertheless, it does not make explicit what the ‘ancestral customs’ were, nor does it state the occasion on which the aparchai were to be sent. Might the decree be drawing on the pre‐ploughing Proerosia, originally celebrated locally in various Attic demes but which probably later became a polis festival bound up with Eleusis? The beginning of Euripides’ Suppliant Women shows Theseus’ mother ‘making preliminary sacrifice for the ploughing of the land’ (p.101) (τυγχάνω δ᾽ ὑπὲρ χθονὸς ἀρότου προθύουσ᾽) at the sanctuary at Eleusis, where the first corn appeared.14 The occasion is generally agreed to be the Proerosia; and the scene suggests the possibility that by the 420s, when the play was produced, the Eleusinian Proerosia might have acquired the status of a state festival.

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Agricultural First Offerings Some scholars have postulated that the Eleusinian first‐fruits decree probably took up an existing association between agricultural aparchai and the Eleusinian Proerosia, and attempted to extend it to Greece at large. On this view, an existing practice in Attica was probably expanded to a Panhellenic religious obligation, and the Proerosia was the occasion, in reality as well as in myth, for the collection of the aparchai as well as the performance of the sacrifices funded by their proceeds.15 However, these scholars have neglected the fact that the Eleusinian aparchai were only aetiologically connected to the Proerosia in the sources. There is no evidence for a Panhellenic dimension to the Proerosia in real practice, and we have no reason to assume that representatives bringing aparchai from other Greek cities necessarily came to Eleusis during the Proerosia. The precise relationship between the Proerosia and the Eleusinian first‐fruits decree remains difficult to pin down. What is important for us is that the decree provides a fifth‐century attestation of the offering of agricultural first‐fruits as a traditional and required practice within Attica, and of possible attempts to extend an Attic practice to the other Greeks at large.16 Yet the extent to which the decree was observed by other cities, the actual mechanisms for enforcements (if any) in Attica and elsewhere, and the occasion(s) for the dispatch of the aparchai and the performance of the sacrifices remain largely obscure to us.17 (p.102) To return to the Proerosia, its varying dates and names, and its lack of ‘centralization’ (until perhaps the last quarter of the fifth century), may be due to variations in the right moment for sowing from one area to another, or from year to year.18 As Xenophon’s Ischomachus tells us, ‘The god does not regulate the year by a fixed pattern; but in one year it is best to sow early, in another at mid‐season, in another very late.’19 The aims and intentions of pre‐ploughing ceremonies may be glimpsed from the Suda’s words quoted earlier: ‘sacrifices taking place before ploughing for the future crops, that they may be brought to maturity’.20 Performed before sowing, the sacrifices were made to win the gods’ blessings for the successful growth of the crops in the new season. Certainly the Proerosia was not the only rite performed to propitiate the gods: after the Proerosia, there followed other rites performed at different stages of the agricultural cycle to foster the process of growth and to pray for the crops’ well‐ being. Thargelia

On the seventh of Thargelion at the beginning of the summer, the Athenians celebrated the Thargelia in honour of Apollo.21 This was also celebrated in some Ionian cities and their colonies.22 It is not entirely clear what the festive food thargelos (which gave the festival its name) was; but some lexicographers regard it as an aparche, a vegetarian foodstuff prepared in a pot using the first harvest collected. Hesychius says that ‘in the (month) Thargelion they make the aparchai of the things being produced and carry them around. These offerings they call thargelia. And the month Thargelion.’ (p.103) Hesychius mentions Page 4 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings further ‘a pot filled with seeds’, as does Photius, who explains the thargelos as ‘a pot full of seeds for the sacred boiled meal. They boiled in it aparchai of the crops that had appeared for the god.’23 However, Athenaeus quotes Crates as saying that the thargelos is the first bread (ἄρτος) made from the harvest.24 Whatever its form and content, the thargelos was displayed and carried in a procession, and was probably consumed later.25 Offered at the beginning of the harvest, the thargelos was first‐fruits in a double sense—a preliminary portion of the earliest‐grown crops, as if to emphasize the gods’ precedence over men in enjoying the crops. The thargelos from the earliest‐growing cereals was perhaps intended, on the one hand, to thank the gods for the crops just collected, and, on the other hand, to cultivate their goodwill in the hope of a favourable outcome for the rest of the harvest. It was not unusual to offer aparchai before the entire harvest was collected. Theophrastus notes a comparable practice in Egypt: although the barley ripened a month earlier in Egypt than in Greece, only what was required for the aparche (ὅσον εἰς ἀπαρχήν) would be gathered at this early date.26 There is confusion as to whether the eiresione was carried in this festival; the most recent view is that it was specific to another festival, the Pyanopsia.27 Pyanopsia

In contrast to the Thargelia held at the beginning of the harvest, the Pyanopsia was a post‐harvest festival celebrated at Athens on the seventh of Pyanopsion in autumn, probably in honour of Apollo Delphinios.28 Like the Proerosia, the custom was associated (p.104) aetiologically with an ancient famine, remedied in this case by dedicating a suppliant branch called eiresione to Apollo. Lycurgus speaks of a large olive branch decorated with everything that the seasons produce, intended as ‘first‐fruits of all the products of the earth (ἀπαρχαὶ τῶν γιγνομένων πάντων ἐκ τῆς γῆς), because the suppliant branch placed with Apollo ended the famine (ἀφορία) of our land’. Lycurgus seems to refer to raw natural produce only, whereas several later sources speak of ‘cakes’ (πέμμα, ἄρτος) and ‘fruits grown on branches’ (ἀκρόδρυα).29 However, Plutarch links the practice to the myth of Theseus.30 After their safe return from Crete, the youths cooked the remainder of their provisions in a pot to make what is sometimes called a panspermia (literally ‘all‐seed’).31 This was probably similar in content to the thargelos in the Thargelia, and was feasted upon by the participants. In their procession the youths carried the eiresione, a suppliant olive branch hung with wool and all sorts of first‐fruits (the word used by Plutarch is κατάργματα),32 to signify the end of scarcity, as they sang a song alluding to various products: figs, rich loaves, honey, and olive oil. In addition to this official eiresione publicly dedicated in front of the temple of Apollo, there were also private eiresionai attached to the doors of individual households, where they probably remained until they were replaced the following year.33 The diversity of produce used for the eiresione symbolizes abundance and the basic Page 5 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings necessities for human nourishment. If the pre‐ploughing Proerosia looks forward to the next season, the Pyanopsia probably looks back over the last (p.105) season and gives thanks and honour to the gods for all the crops successfully collected over the summer. Thalusia

Thalusia are harvest offerings and/or a festival attested outside Attica and not specific to any deity. Two scholia speak of the Thalusia as a festival,34 but other sources refer to offerings from the produce harvested. Homer tells us that Artemis took offence at Oeneus’ lack of thalusia for her, whereas the other gods enjoyed a hecatomb, which seems to suggest that the proceeds of the harvest collected were used to finance animal sacrifices. The purpose of these offerings is explicitly described in some sources. A scholion explains the thalusia as ‘thusiai to Demeter and other gods, given for the blooming and fertility of the crops after their gathering’, whereas Eustathius’ commentary on Homer describes thalusia as ‘first offerings, that is, those given to the god after the collection of the crops to ensure that the fields flourish in future too. Some orators call them “bringing together” offerings.’35 While Homer uses the word thalusia, Aristophanes, Euripides, and Apollodorus use aparchai for Oeneus’ offerings when relating the same myth,36 which suggests that the two terms were related or regarded as generic. The link between thalusia and aparchai is also made in Hesychius, who speaks of thalusia as ‘first‐fruits of crops’ (αἱ τῶν καρπῶν ἀπαρχαί).37 Theocritus’ Idyll VII provides a vivid description of the occasion. The narrator was on his way to a harvest festival and feast in a local deme on Cos, where his comrades were making harvest offerings (ἔτευξε θαλύσια) to Demeter: ‘this journey is to a harvest‐festival, (p.106) for comrades of mine are holding a feast for fair‐robed Demeter, giving first‐fruits of their abundance (ὄλβω ἀπαρχόμενοι); for in full rich measure has the goddess piled their threshing‐floor with barley.’38 Their offering of thalusia, expressed here with the verb aparchesthai, followed a rich harvest of barley, though precisely when the celebration took place is difficult to pin down.39 The Idyll concludes with the narrator expressing the wish to repeat the ritual: ‘on her [Demeter’s] heap may I plant again the great winnowing‐shovel (πτύον) while she smiles on us with sheaves and poppies (δράγματα καὶ μάκωνες) in either hand.’40 Next to the threshing‐floor of his comrades’ farm must have been a statue or figure of Demeter, into whose hands the participants put the sheaves and poppies. The planting of the winnowing‐shovel in the heap of corn apparently signified the end of winnowing.41 Pithoigia

The Anthesteria was a three‐day festival at Athens, from the eleventh to the thirteenth of Anthesterion, in honour of Dionysus. The major elements involved rites of wine‐opening on the first day, called the Pithoigia (literally ‘Jar‐ Page 6 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings Opening’), followed by a drinking competition on the second. On the third and last day, called the Chytroi (or ‘Pots’), grains of all kinds were boiled together in a pot with honey.42 What concerns us here is the Pithoigia, when pithoi of the previous summer’s vintage were taken to the sanctuary of Dionysus, where they were opened, offered to the god, and sampled: ‘Phanodemus says that the Athenians used to bring the young wine to the shrine of Dionysus in the Marshes from the pots and mix it for the god, then sample it themselves…that was the first occasion when young wine was blended with water and drunk mixed.’43 Plutarch, on the other hand, describes the Pithoigia using the word katarchesthai for the (p.107) preliminary rite: ‘they make first offerings from the new wine at Athens on the eleventh of the month Anthesterion, calling the day “Pot‐opening”. And in the past, it seems, they used to pour a libation before tasting the wine and pray that the use of this drug should prove harmless and beneficial to them.’44 Both sources mention an offering to the god before participants partook of the wine for themselves. We may think of the god’s share of the new wine as a first offering. Just as a portion of the fields’ produce would be offered to the gods in agricultural festivals, a portion of the new wine was also poured for Dionysus before the participants tasted it. In the Thargelia, Pyanopsia, and Thalusia, first‐fruits variously termed thargelos, eiresione, and thalusia were presented to the gods on a communal or domestic basis using a random portion of the seasonal produce. They were probably specimens of different kinds of raw natural produce available and accessible to every household. The Pithoigia, on the other hand, involved a preliminary offering of the new wine. The pre‐ploughing sacrifice in the Proerosia was not, strictly speaking, an agricultural first offering in itself: it was connected to aparchai in myth, but in real practice we do not know if aparchai were necessarily offered when the Proerosia was celebrated. On none of the above occasions was a fixed portion specified as first‐fruits, unlike the Eleusinian decree, which lays down a fixed proportion of wheat (1/1,200) and barley (1/600) required for the two goddesses.

II. Farmers’ first offerings outside festivals In addition to first‐fruits offered more or less regularly at certain points in the agricultural year, farmers might also present first offerings to the gods outside these festivals. Individuals could (p.108) participate in the above customs by virtue of their membership in the agricultural community; but they could also present first offerings to the gods independently of their own accord. If the first‐ fruits seen so far were group expressions of a community’s relation with the gods pertaining to the well‐being of the group as a whole, individual farmers’ offerings concerned their personal welfare and personal ties with the gods. Farmers might offer vegetable offerings in their original form, or more durable objects specially commissioned for dedication using the proceeds from the land’s produce. Perishable vegetable offerings have inevitably left few traces in the Page 7 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings archaeological and epigraphic records, but fortunately they are mentioned in some dedicatory epigrams, which are perhaps literary imitations of the real practice. A Hellenistic epigram attributed to Nicaenetus shows one Philetis offering sheaves and garlands of straws as the dekate of threshing: Ἡρῷσσαι Λιβύων ὄρος ἄκριτον αἵτε νέμεσθε αἰγίδι καὶ στρεπτοῖς ζωσάμεναι θυσάνοις, τέκνα θεῶν, δέξασθε Φιλήτιδος ἱερὰ ταῦτα δράγματα καὶ χλωροὺς ἐκ καλάμης στεφάνους, ἅσσ᾽ ἀπὸ λικμητοῦ δεκατεύεται· ἀλλὰ καὶ οὕτως ἡρῷσσαι Λιβύων, χαίρετε δεσπότιδες.45 Libyan heroines, you who dwell in this continuous mountain‐range, girded with goatskin with tangled tufts, daughters of the gods, accept from Philetis these sacred sheaves and fresh garlands of straw, offered as a tithe of the winnowing; yet even so heroines and mistresses of the Libyans, take delight.

A few sheaves (δράγματα) and straws (καλάμαι) were probably common first‐ fruits from individuals, though they are unlikely to have represented a real tenth of a farmer’s threshing. Also from the third century BC is the following epigram by Leonidas of Tarentum: Γλευκοπόταις Σατύροισι καὶ ἀμπελοφύτορι Βάκχῳ Ἡρῶναξ πρώτης δράγματα φυταλιῆς τρισσῶν οἰνοπέδων τρισσοὺς ἱερώσατο τούσδε ἐμπλήσας οἴνου πρωτοχύτοιο κάδους· (p.109) ὧν ἡμεῖς σπείσαντες, ὅσον θέμις, οἴνοπι Βάκχῳ καὶ Σατύροις, Σατύρων πλείονα πιόμεθα.46 To the Satyrs the drinkers of new wine and to Bacchus the Vine‐ planter, Heronax, as first‐fruits of his first vine, from his three vineyards offered these three casks after filling them with first‐flowing wine; having poured a libation from them, as much as is right, to ruddy‐ faced Bacchus and the Satyrs, we shall drink more than the Satyrs.

Heronax appears to have planted three vineyards recently and is offering to the Satyrs and Bacchus three casks filled with the first produce (οἶνος πρωτοχύτος, literally ‘first‐flowing wine’). If it is correct to understand δράγματα (literally ‘sheaves’) here as an equivalent of aparchai,47 we would have aparchai proportional to the number of fields—one from each field—when agricultural aparchai were normally a random portion. The fact that the gods’ share is smaller than that retained for human consumption is expressed playfully by the last line ‘we shall drink more than the Satyrs’. Another planter of vines, in a late epigram by Apollonides, makes a humble offering—perhaps some grapes, grape Page 8 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings juice, or wine—from his vineyard and asks the god to grant him more so that he can offer aparchai more generously in return. The epigram ends with these words: εἴη δ᾽ ἐξ ὀλίγων ὀλίγη χάρις· εἰ δὲ διδοίης / πλείονα, καὶ πολλῶν, δαῖμον, ἀπαρξόμεθα (‘may there be a small return from small possessions; but if you gave more, daimon, we shall offer first‐fruits from an abundance’).48 There are further epigrams showing farmers offering to the gods produce of their fields; but these offerings are not described as aparchai, dekatai, or the like.49 First‐fruits in the form of a few sheaves or some wine were probably placed on the household altar (or an image of the god if available) at the end of a day’s labour. Such first‐fruits were readily available and within an average farmer’s capacity to offer. Very (p.110) different in scale and value are durable marble dedications set up by farmers. From the Athenian acropolis in the fifth century is a marble pillar thus inscribed: τἀθηναίαι | δεκάτην | χοριόω | Ἀθμονόθεν | Χαιρεδέμο Φιλέα (‘To Athena a tithe (of the produce) of the land Philea daughter of Khairedemos from the deme of Athmon (dedicated)’). The dedicator might have paid for the object using the proceeds from the sale of agricultural produce.50 Another fifth‐century Athenian inscription on a marble pillar has been restored as follows: [Δι]ο̣άνες μ᾽ ἀνέθεκεν Ἀθεναία[ι τόδ᾽ ἄγαλμα] / [χο]ρίο δεκάτεν το̑ τέκνο εὐχ[σαμένο] (‘[Di]ophanes dedicated me, [this agalma], to Athena, as a tithe (of the produce) of [la]nd, his child [having made] a vow’). If Raubitschek’s supplement [χο]ρίο δεκάτεν is correct, this may be another dekate of the land’s produce.51 A fragmentary verse inscription concerning a dekate mentions ‘[co]mmon to[il]’ ([κοι]ν̣ωνὸν δὲ πό[νων]) and ‘[Demet]er bear[er] of fruits’ ([Δήμητρ]ος καρποφό[ρου]); this may also have been brought by someone who worked the fields.52 Despite the agricultural nature of ancient Greek societies, curiously few agricultural aparchai or dekatai can be identified in the surviving evidence. We would have expected many more first offerings from farmers than can be identified here. Many such offerings must have escaped our attention because of the lack of contextual information in the sources. In fact, in none of the first‐ offerings inscriptions collected in this study is the dedicator called a ‘farmer’ (γεωργός), and only in a few instances can we infer from expressions like δεκάτη χοριόω that the individuals might have been farmers. It was probably considered unnecessary to identify themselves as such when most people worked the land in agrarian societies. The various kinds of agricultural first‐fruits seen in this chapter may be categorized, broadly speaking, using the traditional distinctions of ‘raw’ and ‘converted’ offerings: agricultural produce in the (p.111) form of some sheaves, straws, fruits, and wine are ‘raw’ offerings, whereas durable objects specially commissioned for the express purpose of dedication and not in themselves having a ‘secular’ use are ‘converted’ offerings. However, this dichotomy between ‘raw’ and ‘converted’ offerings, used originally by Snodgrass Page 9 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings in relation to dedications,53 needs further qualification when applied to other categories of gifts to the gods, such as vegetable offerings. While a few sheaves and straws were products of the earth in their most basic and original form, the thargelos and eiresione seen earlier involved a process of cooking and/or preparation, transforming various raw natural products into festival food specially made in honour of the gods (although the thargelos was probably consumed by participants too). Processing was likewise required for first‐fruits of wine, produced from grapes after a period of fermentation.54 The various kinds of first‐fruits broadly encapsulated by the category of ‘raw’ offerings were in fact not equally ‘raw’. Despite the general validity of the distinction between ‘raw’ and ‘converted’ offerings, we may therefore further distinguish varying degrees of ‘rawness’ among different agricultural offerings.55

III. Risks and hazards in agricultural societies We have already encountered the notion, common in the early twentieth century, that preliminary portions of harvest or of food in general were offered to the gods to break taboos on eating. It was thought that the Greeks had to seek the gods’ permission for the consumption of the land’s produce; failure to do so would incur (p.112) undesirable consequences.56 Although historians now avoid the notion of ‘taboo’, some scholars continue to think that first‐fruits offerings were necessary for legitimizing or ‘desacralizing’ the food, rendering it safe and permissible for human use. According to Jameson, ‘a portion of the food to be eaten by men was given to the gods and thereby made the rest of the food usable or safe.’ In a similar vein, Bruit Zaidman suggests that first‐fruits authorized human consumption by ‘desacralizing’ the food, a symbolic part of which had been given to the gods.57 Rudhardt saw similar ‘liberating’ functions in the aparchai not only of food but of goods in general, thinking that the Greeks could consume the rest after sacrificing aparchai of what they had acquired: the aparchai had ‘liberated’ them. This idea that the gods must receive their share first before the food (or goods) could be safely used is not supported by Greek sources, and appears to be a misconception applied to ancient Greece from other cultures.58 It has also been suggested that first‐fruits were needed for maintaining the natural equilibrium: aparchai returned to nature a portion of natural produce as if to conserve and compensate for what was taken away for human consumption.59 Yet this interpretation is not borne out in the evidence either. We come closer to possible restrictions on consumption in the ritualized wine‐ opening on the Pithoigia. The Plutarch passage quoted earlier mentions participants pouring a libation from the new wine and praying for its harmless and beneficial use.60 But even here the evidence for possible restrictions (if any) is inferred and not explicit. Nor can we safely assume, based on this single piece of evidence, that the dominant view among the average Greeks was that new wine and food was harmful unless a preliminary offering was given to the gods. It is preferable to think, following Jameson’s insight, that new wine and crops Page 10 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings were probably considered ‘harmful’ (p.113) in the sense that anything not treated according to traditional customs was felt to be not ready or inappropriate for use, not because of any ‘taboos’ on consumption or anything inherently ‘dangerous’ in the substance itself.61 Plutarch aside, there is no evidence in ancient Greece for prohibitions on eating or drinking before first‐ fruits were offered. That a preliminary portion of food and/or drink could ‘desacralize’ the part not offered remains a modern conjecture. First‐fruits practices cannot be reduced to any single reason or immediately perceived goal. But doubtless an important factor underlying the custom is the great uncertainty involved in agriculture. Farmers’ anxiety and psychology, already touched on in Chapter 2, can be illustrated by further pieces of evidence. In Xenophon’s Oeconomicus, after Socrates has spoken at length about the importance of agriculture and the human labour required for it, Critobulus objects that unpredictable elements like hailstorms, frost, droughts, and rain can ruin human schemes, however well‐planned they may be. As such matters are in the hands of the gods, Socrates advises in reply, men should propitiate the gods in matters of agriculture no less than in war, and sensible men would cultivate the gods ‘for the good of their fruits, crops, cattle, horses, sheep, and indeed for all their possessions’.62 Elsewhere in the Oeconomicus, Socrates says that all farmers look anxiously to the gods and wait to see when they will send rain on the earth, and that there are no fixed laws by which the gods regulate the years.63 A passage in Aristotle mentions the great variability in climate from one area to the next, and from one year to another.64 These views are confirmed by Osborne’s study, which demonstrates a high level of inter‐annual climatic variability on the Greek mainland, with rainfall varying by more than 60 per cent from year to year.65 Hanson, himself a raisin farmer in modern California, gives a vivid description of the uncertainties in cultivation practices and the constant apprehensions inherent in farming.66 In contrast to (p.114) the fantasy of utopian abundance and the effortless provision of food in Old Comedy, Menander’s Bad‐Tempered Man depicts a life of hard agricultural labour on rocky hillsides, which is perhaps closer to reality.67 Given the limits of human control, the gods’ role in creating and averting risks in agriculture was perhaps recognized as paramount; offering them first‐fruits of the fields was probably a way to honour the gods for the produce available, on the one hand, and to propitiate them for further blessings, on the other. It was perhaps with a mixture of gratitude, fear, and uncertainty about the future that the Greeks presented first‐fruits of their fields to the gods. Men’s dependence on the gods in agriculture can further be illustrated by oracular consultations. Many of the questions private individuals put to the gods at Dodona were closely related to farming. A farmer’s consultation breaks off just before the divine favour he was asking for: ‘Zeus Naios, Dione, and the gods in the same temple, [I ask y]ou with good fortune to give m[e] who works [the] Page 11 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings land (δοῦναι ἐ[μοὶ τὰν] γᾶν ἐργαζομένωι) and…’. Someone asked ‘about the fruits of the land’ (πὲρ καρπο̣ν̣ τ̣ᾶ̣[ς] γείας;), another asked ‘about the fruits (of the land) of Demeter and Dionysus’ (περὶ Δαματρίω̣ καὶ Διονυσίω καρπ̣[ῶ]). A fragmentary enquiry beginning with the phrase ‘about all fruits of the earth (?)’ (πὲρ τᾶς πανκα-[πίας(?)----]) was possibly also made by a farmer. Greek cities were equally concerned about such issues. In the fourth century the Corcyraeans and Oricians jointly enquired of the gods at Dodona about the governance of their city and about a good and abundant harvest (εὐκαρπία καὶ πολυκαρπία).68 Eidinow has studied ancient Greek perceptions of risk and argued for oracular consultation as a means by which individuals managed the risks and uncertainties in their day‐to‐day experiences.69 Similar psychology might underlie the offering of first‐fruits: in an attempt to minimize risks and seek help, farmers turned to the gods with first‐fruits in the hope of divine favour and protection.

(p.115) IV. First‐fruits festivals and social functions First‐fruits festivals held in honour of the gods were also occasions for social gatherings, providing not only leisure and entertainment to break the mundane routine of agrarian life, but also opportunities to interact with members of the community. When arguing for the importance of agriculture, Socrates says that no other art yields more seemly first‐fruits (ἀπαρχαὶ πρεπωδεστέραι) for the gods or more ample festivals.70 Harvest celebrations in particular were occasions for both religious worship and collective relaxation. As Aristotle notes, ‘sacrifices and gatherings of old appear to take place after the harvest of crops as a kind of first‐fruits, since this was the time when people had the most leisure.’71 These occasions made possible the enjoyment of food and wine; they also allowed members of the community to demonstrate their generosity and hospitality to the group by holding a banquet or sharing their fields’ produce. In Theocritus’ Idyll VII, at the feast held by two Coans of noble lineage on their estate, there was an abundance of harvested grains, fruits, and wine for the enjoyment of the participants.72 Unlike occasions of luxurious eating, in these communal celebrations, what was consumed was probably simple festival food accessible to most ordinary people.73 By turning the individual consumption of the newly available crops into a collective activity, such gatherings had the potential to maintain communal relations and foster social harmony. Yet the social aspect of first‐fruits festivals is not unique to ancient Greece. Similar festivals in other cultures have been shown by anthropologists to serve comparable functions.74 Social elements should not undermine the religious significance of first‐fruits festivals, since any religious festival may be said to be an (p.116) occasion for social gathering and feasting. For agrarian societies whose security hinged on the fertility and productivity of the fields, an important concern of first‐fruits Page 12 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings festivals was to cultivate the gods’ favour for the well‐being of their crops. Post‐ harvest festivals like the Pyanopsia and the Thalusia show the Greeks honouring the gods with aparchai in gratitude and due acknowledgement for the crops received, but perhaps not without some anxiety about next year’s harvest. So central was agriculture in ancient societies that no important phase of the agricultural cycle—from ploughing, the beginning of the harvest, to after the harvest—would go without presenting the gods with first‐fruits of some sort. A related practice is the offering of some food and/or drink to the gods at the start of a meal, which will be the subject of the next chapter. Notes:

(1) On agricultural labour, see e.g. Hes. Op. passim, Isager and Skydsgaard (1992), 160–8, Burford (1993), 100–66. The complicated relations between Kore’s passage between this world and the underworld and the growth of corn are treated concisely in Burkert (1983 [1972]), 260–1. (2) On the relations between the agricultural cycle and the festival cycle in Attica, see Foxhall (1995), 98–9, with table 6.1, Parker (2005), 195–206. (3) The third day of the Anthesteria, called the Chytroi, and the Eleusinian Mysteries have been interpreted as ‘first‐fruits festivals’ by e.g. Harrison (1903), 158–60, 518–35, 549, 559, Xanthoudides (1905–6), Harrison (1912), 292–4, and Persson (1942), 79. This view seems to be based on the assumption that the boiled grain mixture (called panspermia) offered to Hermes Chthonios on the Chytroi was a kind of ‘first‐fruits’, as were the different kinds of grains and liquids carried in cult vessels called kernoi, which are associated by some scholars with the Eleusinian Mysteries. However, on the principle used in this study, they cannot be justifiably regarded as first‐fruits and therefore will not be discussed here. Doubts have been expressed by e.g. Pollitt (1979), 230–1 and Clinton (2009). (4) On the Proerosia, see Mikalson (1975), 67–9, (1979), 434, Brumfield (1981), 54–69, Whitehead (1986), 196–7, Parker (1987), esp. 141, (2005), 196, 330–2, 479. (5) LSCG 7.2–7 (= IG II2 1363.1–6); Dow and Healey (1965), 15–16. Cf. Brumfield (1981), 58–9, and Foxhall (1995), 102, who think that the Proerosia was ‘moveable’: the fact that it had to be announced suggests that it was not a regular annual festival. (6) The myth is related in Lycurg. fr. XIV.4–5 Conomis, Aristid. Or. 1.399 (Panathenaikos), Phot. s.v. Προηροσία, Suda α 18 s.v. Ἄβαρις, Schol. Aristid. p. 55.33–56.5 Dindorf, Schol. vet. Ar. Eq. 729a, Schol. vet. Ar. Plut. 1054f. Our sources differ on the nature of the calamity (plague (λοιμός) or famine (λιμός) ),

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Agricultural First Offerings the god of the oracle (Apollo or Zeus), and the date (νγ᾽, κα᾽ or †ες᾽ Ὀλυμπιάδι᾽). (7) Mission of Triptolemus: see e.g. Xen. Hell. 6.3.6, Isoc. Paneg. 28–31, Aristid. Or. 1.36–7 (Panathenaikos), Aristid. Or. 22.3–4 Keil, with discussions in Parker (1991), (1996), 99, 143. (8) Phot. s.v. Προηροσία: ἡ ὑπὲρ τῶν καρπῶν θυσία γιγομένη ὑπὸ Ἀθηναίων κατὰ μαντείαν ἐν Ἤλιδι. The phrase ἐν Ἤλιδι seems to refer to an oracle of Zeus in Olympia; this is the only source attributing the oracle to Zeus, whereas other sources refer to Delphic Apollo (see n. 6). Suda π 2420 s.v. Προηροσίαι: αἱ πρὸ τοῦ ἀρότρου γινόμεναι θυσίαι περὶ τῶν μελλόντων ἔσεσθαι καρπῶν, ὥστε τελεσφορεῖσθαι· ἐγίνετο δὲ ὑπὸ Ἀθηναίων ὑπὲρ πάντων Ἑλλήνων †ες᾽ Ὀλυμπιάδι. (9) Schol. vet. Ar. Eq. 729a: καὶ οὕτως ὥσπερ χαριστήριον οἱ πανταχόθεν τοῖς Ἀθηναίοις ἐξέπεμπον τῶν καρπῶν ἁπάντων τὰς ἀπαρχάς; see similarly Schol. vet. Ar. Plut. 1054f. (10) Sacrifices are attested in four Attic demes: IG I3 250 (=LSS 18) (Paiania), SEG XXXIII 147 (Thorikos), IG II2 1183 (=RO 63) (Myrrhinus or Hagnous), IG II2 1363 (=LSCG 7) (Eleusis). A fifth deme, Piraeus, is also known to have celebrated the Proerosia, but its inscription IG II2 1177 does not mention a sacrifice. (11) IG I3 250 A21–2, B4; Parker (2005), 331. (12) IG I3 78, ML 73, I.Eleusis no. 28. (13) Sacrifices: IG I3 78.36–40. Ancestral customs and the Delphic oracle: IG I3 78.4–5, 25–6, 34. (14) Eur. Supp. 1–41, esp. 28–31; with commentary and bibliography in Morwood (2007), 147. (15) Robertson (1996), 319–25, Parker (1996), 143 with n. 85, (2005), 330–2. (16) IG I3 78.4–10 lays down the internal arrangements made to collect aparchai from within Attica. Similar requirements for Athenian allies: IG I3 78.14–30; invitation of all other Greek cities: IG I3 78.30–6. (17) The occasion for the dispatch of aparchai has been much disputed, and none of the candidates proposed is entirely satisfactory. The Eleusinian Mysteries: Smarczyk (1990), 184–216, esp. 196, Larson (2007), 75, cf. Parker (2005), 331 n. 19. The Proerosia: Robertson (1996), esp. 319–30, Parker (2005), 330 n. 16, Rutherford (2013), 115. The Eleusinia: ML 73, followed by Fornara (1983), no. 140, n. 11, Simms (1975), 272 (based on IG I3 5 = I.Eleusis no. 13), cf. Clinton Page 14 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings (1979), 8 n. 29, Parker (2005), 328 n. 6, and Clinton in I.Eleusis vol. II no. 13 p. 33. The Synoikia: McGregor (1938), 161–2. No specific festival: I.Eleusis vol. II, pp. 6–7, Clinton (2010), esp. 4–10. (18) On the suitable time for ploughing and sowing, see Foxhall (2005), 80–1. (19) Xen. Oec. 17.4: καὶ ὁ θεός, ἔφην ἐγώ, οὐ τεταγμένως τὸ ἔτος ἄγει, ἀλλὰ τὸ μὲν τῷ πρωίμῳ κάλλιστα, τὸ δὲ τῷ μέσῳ, τὸ δὲ τῷ ὀψιμωτάτῳ. (20) Suda π 2420 s.v. Προηροσίαι. (21) Apollo Pythios or Apollo Delios: see Bremmer (1983), 319, Parker (1996), 96 n. 120, (2005), 203. (22) On the Thargelia and the thargelos, see Ath. 3.114a, Hsch. θ 104 s.v. Θαργήλια, θ 106 s.v. θάργηλος, Phot. θ 22. (= Suda θ 49) s.v. Θαργήλια, Etym. Magn. 443.19–25; Brumfield (1981), 147–55, Bruit (1990), 168–9, Parker (2005), 185, 203–4, 376 n. 26, 481–3. No mythical explanation survives for the offering of thargelos in this festival. The Thargelia is also a festival of purification involving the ritual expulsion of the pharmakos or scapegoat, see e.g. Den Boer (1979), 129–32, Bremmer (1983), Burkert (1985), 82–4 (revised edn in Burkert (2011), 131–4), Parker (2005), 203, 482–3; but this aspect does not concern us here. (23) Hsch. θ 104 s.v. Θαργήλια: ἐν δὲ τοῖς Θαργηλίοις τὰς ἀπαρχὰς τῶν φυομένων ποιοῦνται, καὶ περικομίζουσι· ταῦτα δὲ θαργήλιά φασι· καὶ μὴν θαργηλιών…καὶ ὁ θάργηλος χύτρα ἐστὶν ἀνάπλεως σπερμάτων. Phot. θ 22 (= Suda θ 49) s.v. Θαργήλια: ὁ τῶν σπερμάτων μεστὸς χύτρος ἱεροῦ ἑψήματος. ἥψουν δὲ ἐν αὐτῇ ἀπαρχὰς τῷ θεῷ τῶν πεφηνότων καρπῶν. (24) Crates, FGrH 362 F 6 ap. Ath. 3.114a. (25) On whether the θάργηλος was consumed by human participants, see Parker (2005), 185, cf. Bruit (1990) 168–9. (26) Theophr. Hist. pl. 8.2.7. (27) Parker (2005), 204–5. (28) The main sources on the Pyanopsia are Lycurg. fr. XIV.2a–3 Conomis, Plut. Thes. 22.4–7, LSCG 7.8–19 (= IG II2 1363.7–18), Paus. Att. ε 17 Erbse (= Suda ει 184) s.v. εἰρεσιώνη. See also Burkert (1979), 134, Calame (1990), 150–3, 290– 324, Parker (2005), 185, 203–6, 436, 480. On Apollo Delphinios, see also Graf (1979), 13–19. (29) Lycurg. fr. XIV.2a–3 Conomis. Cf. Menekles of Barka, FGrH 270 F 8 (πέμμα, ‘cakes’), Schol. vet. Ar. Plut. 1054b (ἄρτος, ‘cakes’), Schol. vet. Ar. Eq. 729a Page 15 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings (ἀκρόδρυα, ‘fruits grown on the upper branches of trees’), Etym. Magn. 303.18– 20 (ἀκρόδρυα). (30) In addition to these two traditions, there is a third aition: Plut. Thes. 22.7 reports that some people connect the rites with the hospitality accorded by the Athenians to the Heracleidae. (31) Lexicographers explain πανσπερμία as παγκαρπία (literally ‘all‐fruits’) but not aparchai: e.g. Hsch. π 18 s.v. παγκαρπία, Phot. s.v. πανσπερμία, Suda π 216 s.v. πανσπερμία. Note that the panspermia was not exclusive to the Pyanopsia, but also appeared in funeral rites and other contexts. (32) On the word κατάργματα, see Chapter 1, n. 62. (33) The Atticist grammarian Pausanias, Paus. Att. ε 17 Erbse, says that the official eiresione was carried by a boy with both parents alive, perhaps to symbolize fertility. In the Roman period the person who carried this official eiresione was called εἰρεσιώνης. Several suviving decrees honouring these individuals are collected in Follet (1974), 30–2. Eiresionai placed at the household door: Lycurg. fr. XIV.2a Conomis, Ar. Eq. 729, Plut. 1054, Vesp. 399. (34) Schol. Hom. Il. 9.534b Erbse: ἑορτή, ἐν ᾗ τὰς ἀπαρχὰς τοῖς θεοῖς ἐπιθύουσι τῶν καρπῶν (‘a festival in which they sacrifice the aparchai of the crops to the gods’); Schol. Theoc. Idyll 7.3c Wendel: Δήμητρος ἑορτή μετὰ τὴν συλλογὴν τῶν καρπῶν (‘a festival of Demeter after the collection of the crops’). (35) Hom. Il. 9.533–6. Schol. Hom. Il. 9.534 Dindorf (= Etym. Magn. 442.13–15): τὰς ὑπὲρ εὐθαλείας καὶ εὐφορίας τῶν καρπῶν διδομένας θυσίας, μετὰ τὴν συγκομιδὴν τῶν καρπῶν, τοῖς τε ἄλλοις καὶ τῇ Δήμητρι. Eust. ad Il. 9.534 p. 791 van der Valk: Θαλύσια δὲ αἱ ἀπαρχαί, ὡς πρὸ ὀλίγων εἴρηται, ἤγουν αἱ μετὰ συλλογὴν τῶν καρπῶν διδόμεναι θεῷ ὑπὲρ τοῦ καὶ εἰς ἔπειτα θάλλειν τὰς ἀρούρας. Τινὲς δὲ τῶν ῥητόρων καὶ συγκομιστήρια ταῦτα καλοῦσιν (tr. Parker (2011), 198). (36) Eur. Meleager, fr. 516 Kannicht, Ar. Ran. 1240–1, Apollod. Bibl. 1.8.2. (37) Hsch. θ 65 s.v. θαλύσια. Cf. Ath. 3.114a, according to which some people refer to the thalusios as thargelos (τὸν θάργηλον, ὅν τινες καλοῦσι θαλύσιον). (38) Theoc. Idyll 7.1–4, 31–4 (Greek text quoted in Chapter 2, n. 53, tr. Gow). (39) Gow (1950), vol. 2, 127, 164, postulated July or August, the months for the stripping of the vines. (40) Theoc. Idyll 7.155–7 (tr. Gow). (41) Gow (1950), vol. 2, 169, Hunter (1999), 199. Page 16 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings (42) On the Anthesteria, see Parker (2005), ch. 14, esp. 291–3 on the Pythoigia. See n. 3 above on the supposed association between the Chytroi and ‘first‐fruits’. (43) Phanodemus, FGrH 325 F 12 ap. Ath. 11.465a: Φανόδημος δὲ πρὸς τῷ ἱερῷ φησι τοῦ ἐν Λίμναις Διονύσου τὸ γλεῦκος φέροντας τοὺς Ἀθηναίους ἐκ τῶν πίθων τῷ θεῷ κιρνάναι, εἶτ᾽ αὑτοῖς προσφέρεσθαι…μιχθὲν τὸ γλεῦκος τῷ ὕδατι τότε πρῶτον ἐπόθη κεκραμένον (tr. Parker). (44) Plut. Quaest. conv. 3.7.1, 655e: Τοῦ νέου οἴνου Ἀθήνησι μὲν ἑνδεκάτῃ μηνὸς Ἀνθεστηριῶνος κατάρχονται, Πιθοίγια τὴν ἡμέραν καλοῦντες καὶ πάλαι γ᾽ ὡς ἔοικεν εὔχοντο, τοῦ οἴνου πρὶν ἢ πιεῖν ἀποσπένδοντες, ἀβλαβῆ καὶ σωτήριον αὐτοῖς τοῦ φαρμάκου τὴν χρῆσιν γενέσθαι (tr. adapted from Parker). In Classical literature the word katarchesthai normally refers to the opening sacrificial (and not drinking) rituals (see Chapter 1). (45) Gow–Page, HE, I, 145–6, II, 418–19, no. 1, Anth. Pal. 6.225 (third century BC). Philetis is a rare name recorded only once in LGPN. Gow–Page note that Philetis can be a male or a female name depending on where it is accented. (46) Gow–Page, HE, I, 137, II, 391–2, no. 94, Anth. Pal. 6.44 (third century BC). (47) Such is the explanation of Suda δ 1490 s.v δράγματα: ἀπαρχαί (quoting this epigram) and Gow–Page. (48) Gow–Page, GP, I, 129, II, 149, no. 2, Anth. Pal. 6.238 (probably late first century BC to early first century AD) (tr. adapted from Gow–Page). The divine recipient is simply called daimon; some scholars have supplied the name of Hermes (discussed in Gow–Page). (49) E.g. Gow–Page, HE, Nicarchus no. 4; Gow–Page, GP, Apollonides no. 3, and Philip no. 9; Anth. Pal. 6.31, 36, 239. (50) IG I3 800, DAA no. 191, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 277, no. 41 (c.490–480?). Raubitschek noted that it is unclear whether Χαιρεδέμο Φιλέα should be read as two dedicators or one dedicator with patronymic. Here I follow LGPN II s.v. Φίλεια (2) in taking Φίλεα as the daughter of Χαιρέδημος. (51) IG I3 735 has [—]ρίο δεκάτεν, listing several possible supplements that have been proposed (c.500–480?); cf. DAA no. 283. (52) IG II2 4587, CEG 752 (middle of the fourth century BC). For a dekate possibly associated with a city’s agricultural prosperity, see Vatin (1991), 55–6, Jacquemin (1999), 70–1, 342, no. 365, with Strabo 6.1.15, 264 (discussed in Chapter 6, n. 2).

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Agricultural First Offerings (53) Snodgrass (1989–90), 291–2, uses this distinction to explain the apparent decline in the number of dedications in Greek sanctuaries after the Archaic period, suggesting that there was a change in favour of ‘converted’ objects in the Classical period. (54) In a recent article arguing for the comparability between animal sacrifice and vegetable sacrifice in Roman religion, Scheid (2011), esp. 111, notes that some vegetable offerings were cooked and transformed into food, not dissimilar to the treatment of animal flesh. (55) I thank Emily Kearns for sharing this insight with me. (56) E.g. Rouse (1902), 41, Harrison (1903), 83–5, 154, Frazer (1911–15), vol. 3, 5, vol. 4, 101–2, vol. 8, 56–8, Harrison (1912), 276–7, Farnell (1914), 22–3, Nilsson (1940), 28–9. Discussed in Chapter 1. (57) Rudhardt (1992 [1958]), 222, 245, Jameson (1994), 38 (but his earlier view in Jameson (1949) is more nuanced: see n. 61 below), Bruit Zaidman (2005b), 38; see also De Polignac (2009a), 34, on what he calls the ‘fonction libératoire’ of part offerings (not food specifically) such as dekatai. (58) On taboos in other cultures, see e.g. Lang (1901), ch. 14, Webster (1942), Steiner (1956). (59) Rudhardt (1992 [1958]), 219–22. (60) Plut. Quaest. conv. 3.7.1, 655e. (61) Jameson (1949), 3–8, 13–14. Jameson pointed out that to speak of the removal of taboos in Greece ‘is perhaps too concrete in its implications’ (p. 8). (62) Xen. Oec. 5.1–20, at 5.18–20: οἱ σώφρονες καὶ ὑπὲρ ὑγρῶν καὶ ξηρῶν καρπῶν καὶ βοῶν καὶ ἵππων καὶ προβάτων καὶ ὑπὲρ πάντων γε δὴ τῶν κτημάτων τοὺς θεοὺς θεραπεύουσιν (tr. adapted from Pomeroy). (63) Xen. Oec. 17.2–4. (64) Arist. Mete. 2.4, 360b.5–12. (65) Osborne (1987), 33. (66) Hanson (1995), ch. 4, esp. 135–67. (67) Men. Dys. 23 ff., 326–34. See the comic passages collected and discussed in Wilkins (2000), 107–15. (68) Lhôte (2006), nos 2 (Corcyraeans and Oricians), 76–79a (individual farmers). (69) Eidinow (2007), passim. Page 18 of 19

Agricultural First Offerings (70) Xen. Oec. 5.10. On the Greeks’ experience in agricultural festivals, see Parker (2011), 197–9. (71) Arist. Eth. Nic. 1160a: αἱ γὰρ ἀρχαῖαι θυσίαι καὶ σύνοδοι φαίνονται γίνεσθαι μετὰ τὰς τῶν καρπῶν συγκομιδὰς οἷον ἀπαρχαί· μάλιστα γὰρ ἐν τούτοις ἐσχόλαζον τοῖς καιροῖς (tr. adapted from Irwin). See also Ath. 8.363d. (72) Theoc. Idyll. 7.131–57. (73) Parker (2005), 186. (74) E.g. Gluckman (1938), Forde (1949), Gluckman (1954), Savary (1991–2), 144 (discussed in the Introduction).

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First Offerings at Meals

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

First Offerings at Meals Theodora Suk Fong Jim

DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.003.0005

Abstract and Keywords Closely related to agricultural first-fruits were first offerings of simple (and mainly vegetarian) foodstuffs made at the beginning of daily meals in private households. This was probably the most regular and common act of making first offerings, but because of its simple, informal, and private character, this preliminary ritual at meals rarely features in ancient sources and has attracted little attention from historians. After collecting the piecemeal evidence on this practice, this chapter will question the claim that these offerings could ‘sacralize the whole’ of the food substance, and will consider their significance in Greek religion. Keywords:   agriculture, private households, meals, food, foodstuffs, vegetarian, ritual, first‐fruits

In Chapter 2 we saw Theophrastus’ treatise On Piety against animal sacrifice. To defend his thesis that simple vegetable products were the most pleasing offerings to the gods, one of the arguments he adduces is this: ‘it is evident that god is not delighted with the large bulk of sacrifices but with what is ordinary from the fact that before enjoying one’s daily food, whatever it is that is served, everyone makes a small offering from it as first‐fruits (ἀπάρχεσθαι μικρόν), but by this small (offering) there is above all (shown) a great honour.’1 Theophrastus is alluding to a common and yet little studied domestic practice: the Greeks would customarily offer some food and/or drink to the gods before partaking of their meals, and both the idea and vocabulary of aparchai and aparchesthai are applied to this custom in our sources.2

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First Offerings at Meals In Greek religion a full range of foodstuffs were offered to the gods in different forms and contexts, ranging from, most conspicuously, the burning of raw (primarily inedible) parts of sacrificial animals on an altar, the serving of a meal on tables set for the gods in what is called theoxenia, the simple deposition of unburnt meat or vegetable offerings on cult tables, to the humble offering of some food at meals in private households.3 This chapter is primarily concerned with (p.118) foodstuffs offered to the gods at the beginning of everyday meals in ordinary households, though meals in semi‐formal settings such as banquets will also be mentioned. Because of its simple, informal, and private character, this ritual before meals rarely features in epigraphic and literary evidence and has attracted little scholarly attention, apart from Jameson’s unpublished dissertation, ‘The Offering at Meals: Its Place in Greek Sacrifice’ (1949). However, as the subtitle hints, Jameson’s real interest was in animal sacrifice of the thusia type and not first offerings. Offerings at meals were contrasted with offerings at thusiai in order to illuminate what he considered as the ‘real nature’ of animal sacrifice. Other historians, on the other hand, provide little more than passing remarks on the practice of first offerings at meals.4 This neglected aspect of Greek religion is nevertheless worthy of our attention: it was probably the most regular and most common act of making first offerings and was performed in perhaps most Greek households.

I. Offerings of food and/or drink: the sources Already in Homer we find the practice of making first offerings at meals, but not the terms aparche or aparchesthai. Sent to reconcile Achilles with Agamemnon, Odysseus and Aias are received with hospitality in Achilles’ quarters. Achilles orders Patroclus to prepare wine and he himself cuts the meat of parts of a sheep, a goat, and a hog, roasts this and serves it to his guests. When the food and drink are prepared and all are ready to eat, Achilles tells Patroclus to offer sacrifice (θῦσαι) to the gods, whereupon Patroclus casts θυηλαί into the fire (ἐν πυρὶ βάλλε θυηλάς). Only then do they set their hands on the food. The term θυηλαί, etymologically related to θύειν, refers here to the ‘parts of a victim burnt in a sacrifice’, which consist of some of (p.119) the roasted meat Achilles and his company are about to consume.5 Some lexicographers and scholia consider θυηλαί as an equivalent of ἀπαρχαί; the scholia further equate θῦσαι with ἀπάρξασθαι.6 However, there are difficulties in using this passage for our purpose. The meal thus prepared by Achilles cannot be taken as typical of the everyday diet in ancient Greece, which was primarily vegetarian in nature.7 There is a degree of ambiguity as to whether the θυηλαί constituted sacrificial offerings or first offerings at meals: in sacrificial rituals the distinction between ‘the god’s sacrificial portion’ and ‘the first portion of food’ is difficult to draw. This can also be said of other passages involving the gods’ portions in animal sacrifices, such as Eumaeus’ sacrifice discussed earlier.8 Despite such complications, Jameson made extensive use of sacrificial scenes in Homer for studying meal offerings. Page 2 of 12

First Offerings at Meals He resolved this problem by seeing meal preparation as a separate and second stage after the sacrifice, and by regarding meal ritual as a minor sacrifice, and sacrifice as a major meal ritual.9 Nevertheless, despite an element of fluidity and ambiguity, it is necessary to distinguish the more or less regular, informal, and simple vegetable offerings at ordinary meals from sacrificial offerings. We have already discussed preliminary sacrificial offerings in Chapter 1, and shall focus on everyday meals in what follows. A scene in the Odyssey resembles more closely, albeit not exactly, the offering of simple foodstuffs in ordinary meals. After entering the Cyclops’ cave and taking his cheeses while he is herding his flocks, (p.120) Odysseus and his companions light a fire to make offerings, presumably of the cheeses, before they take them for themselves (ἔνθα δὲ πῦρ κήαντες ἐθύσαμεν ἠδὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ τυρῶν αἰνύμενοι φάγομεν). The phrase καὶ αὐτοί (‘ourselves also [ate]’) suggests that the gods are thought to partake of the burnt cheeses as they themselves do.10 The insistence that the gods be given their share first despite their desperate situation suggests that the Greeks would customarily make first offerings to the gods before eating. Such are the explanations of some scholia: ‘when about to eat we first made offerings’ (μέλλοντες ἐσθίειν πρότερον ἐθύσαμεν), ‘we made offerings from the cheeses, for making an offering of aparchai was a custom of old’ (ἐθύσαμεν ἀπὸ τῶν τυρῶν. παλαιὸν γὰρ ἔθος τὸ τῶν ἀπαρχῶν θύειν).11 Nevertheless, Homer’s description may not be realistic: one wonders whether the Greeks would typically light a fire to offer some cheese to the gods every time they partook of some themselves. The word θύειν in the line quoted, used most commonly (but not exclusively) for burnt offerings of meat, may suggest that the burning of cheeses is an adaptation of the meat‐ offering ritual often depicted in Homer. These two Homeric passages are cited by Athenaeus in the Deipnosophistae to illustrate one of the proprieties of dining, namely offering aparchai of food to the gods. He regards Homer as the authority prescribing this practice: ‘moreover Homer teaches us what we ought to do before we feast, which is to offer aparchai of the food (ἀπαρχαὶ τῶν βρωμάτων) to the gods.’12 While the practice is certainly described, the use of the term aparchai is post‐Homeric and wrongly ascribed to Homer.13 ‘Aparchai of food’ were probably still made at banquets in Athenaeus’ days, and the neglect of such rites was seen as unseemly, hence his criticism that ‘in Epicurus there is no libation or aparche to the gods’ (παρὰ δ᾽ Ἐπικούρῳ οὐ σπονδή, οὐκ ἀπαρχὴ θεοῖς).14 In Classical literature, Xenophon has two references to this preliminary meal ritual. Book Seven of the Cyropaedia begins with Cyrus and his staff engaging in a pre‐battle sacrifice when their attendants set food and drink before them. Cyrus remains standing and offers a share to the gods before he partakes of the meal (ἀπαρξάμενος (p.121) ἠρίστα); the verb used for this rite is ἀπάρχεσθαι. When conversing with Simonides on the advantages enjoyed by private citizens Page 3 of 12

First Offerings at Meals over their rulers, Hiero says that tyrants have so little trust in others that, for fear of being poisoned, they have their servants taste their food and drink (σιτία καὶ ποτά) ‘before making first offerings to the gods’ (πρὶν ἀπάρχεσθαι τοῖς θεοῖς), which implies that the tyrant performed the rite of ἀπάρχεσθαι every time he ate or drank.15 As these two passages demonstrate, the connection between meals and offerings to the gods is held by Xenophon to be habitual. The gods might be offered liquid as well as solid food as first offerings. Theophrastus tells us that when men discovered divine drops of wine, honey, and oil for their use, they offered first‐fruits also of these to the gods who made them available (ἀπήρχοντο καὶ τούτων τοῖς αἰτίοις θεοῖς), in addition to first offerings of ground meal, cakes, and other things.16 Theophrastus is referring to libations, or the ritual pouring of drink offerings, usually of wine, but sometimes of water, milk, honey, or oil, to divine beings and in some contexts the dead. Libations customarily accompanied prayers and animal sacrifice, but it was also usual practice to offer a small amount of liquid when drinking in other contexts. In symposia we often hear of threefold libations offered in a fixed sequence typically (but not invariably) to Zeus and the Olympians, then to the heroes, and finally to Zeus Soter (‘Saviour’). Drink offerings were also made at the beginning and end of meals. Nevertheless, although the idea of offering ‘part of a greater whole’ is present, libations are most commonly referred to as σπονδή, λοιβή, χοή (or by their cognate verbs σπένδειν, λείβειν, χεῖν),17 rarely with ἀπαρχή or ἀπάρχεσθαι.18 As a thorough treatment of libations requires an independent study on a much larger scale, I shall follow Rudhardt in considering libations as (p.122) ‘un cas particulier de la consécration des prémices’,19 and confine the present discussion to instances of libation where the vocabulary of first offerings is used. The close relation between liquid and solid food offerings at meals, seen already in the two Xenophontic passages earlier, can be further illustrated with another source. Plutarch tells us that Gaius Marius was honoured like a god after a major military triumph: the Romans made first offerings of food and drink (probably wine) to the gods and to Marius alike (ἅμα τοῖς θεοῖς καὶ Μαρίῲ δείπνου καὶ λοιβῆς ἀπήρχοντο) when they celebrated in their households.20 Here the act of ἀπάρχεσθαι applies to both δεῖπνον and λοιβή. However, in some cases it is hard to tell whether a libation formed part of the first offering at meals, or whether it was regarded as a different but related preliminary meal ritual. We mentioned earlier that Athenaeus criticizes Epicurus for neglecting σπονδή and ἀπαρχή to the gods. Elsewhere, when Athenaeus describes banquets as a compromise between human pleasure and piety, he says that the gods are imagined as coming ‘for the aparchai and the libations’ (ἐπὶ τὰς ἀπαρχὰς καὶ τὰς σπονδάς).21 In both passages a libation is mentioned alongside an aparche but is not itself described as such. That ἀπαρχή and σπονδή should be mentioned together using two different terms may imply that the two were customarily

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First Offerings at Meals offered together or on the same occasion, and that they were considered (at least by Athenaeus) as related but separate offerings. As we have seen, preliminary drink offerings could accompany offerings of food in daily meals, but they could also be autonomous rituals of their own. Theophrastus’ character who suffered from mikrologia is said to count how many cups each guest has drunk in a group dinner; and among his companions he makes the smallest first offering (ἀπάρχεσθαι ἐλάχιστον), presumably of wine, to Artemis.22 Athenaeus quotes Pyrgio as saying of the Cretans in their common messes: ‘after they pour a libation to the gods in silence, (p.123) they give everyone a share of the food that has been served’ (μετ᾽ εὐφημίας σπείσαντες τοῖς θεοῖς μερίζουσι τῶν παρατιθεμένων ἅπασι).23 There are other passages showing drink offerings made independently of food offerings,24 but these two examples suffice to demonstrate that a meal could be preceded by a drink offering alone, without solid food: in some cases a drink offering could replace a food one and was probably considered by some Greeks as a sufficient first offering to the gods.

II. Regularity and practicalities While some ritual acts in public contexts might be prescribed by leges sacrae, what took place at meals in the private domain must have been fairly flexible and varied from household to household. The practicalities of what specimens of food and/or drink to offer, the regularity of offering, and how they were offered and by whom, are likely to have varied according to, among other factors, the circumstances, means, and dispositions of individuals. As far as the kinds of offerings are concerned, they must have been predominantly vegetable, rarely meat (raw or cooked), or they could have been a representative offering of all that was on the table. If wine or other kinds of drink were consumed, they might have accompanied or sometimes replaced preliminary shares of food. The Greeks must have been free to choose whatever food and/or drink, and the size of the portions, to offer to the gods; and the value of the first offering probably did not matter so much as the act of offering itself. We are rarely told how first portions of food and/or drink were presented to the gods in actual practice, yet we may envisage several methods of offering: the gods’ share could have been burnt in the fire in the hearth or on household altars,25 or deposited unburnt on (p.124) household altars or on the tables at which the Greeks themselves ate, while a few drops of drink might simply have been poured on the ground, on tables or altars, or into the fire.26 Where they were deposited, we do not know whether the gods’ portions would be consumed by members of the household later, or whether they would be discarded or subsequently burnt, and when they would be replaced by another set of offerings. That burning and deposition were two usual modes of offering vegetarian aparchai can be illustrated by a passage in Porphyry, who says that Clearchus was careful to offer aparchai of all the seasonal produce to the gods, Page 5 of 12

First Offerings at Meals offering some by deposition, others by burning (καὶ τὰ μὲν παρατιθέναι, τὰ δὲ καθαγίζειν αὐτοῖς).27 Although Porphyry is not referring to a meal specifically, the two methods could also have applied to the offering of foodstuffs at meals. There are frequent literary references to altars in households. Archaeological evidence has further shown that some full‐sized altars in houses were suitable for an actual sacrifice, while smaller ones, categorized as arulae, might have been used for making token offerings and libations without burning.28 Where a house altar was not available or was not used, the gods’ share could be simply deposited on a table as a form of trapezoma or ‘table‐offering’.29 Unlike blood sacrifices or banquets in private houses, which might be prepared by mageiroi,30 this simple act must have been performed by members of the household themselves. Although we cannot prove that every meal was necessarily accompanied by the offering of some food and/or drink to the gods, from what we know of this preliminary act in the passages discussed so far, the practice seems to have been fairly common among the Greeks, but owing to its domestic and simple nature it lacks prominence in our (p.125) sources. A piece of advice from Hesiod seems to concern the regularity of this ritual: κὰδ δύναμιν δ᾽ ἔρδειν ἱέρ᾽ ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσιν ἁγνῶς καὶ καθαρῶς, ἐπὶ δ᾽ ἀγλαὰ μηρία καίειν: ἄλλοτε δὲ σπονδῇσι θύεσσί τε ἱλάσκεσθαι, ἠμὲν ὅτ᾽ εὐνάζῃ καὶ ὅτ᾽ ἂν φάος ἱερὸν ἔλθῃ.31

According to your ability, make sacrifice to the immortal gods reverently and purely, and burn gleaming thigh‐bones; at other times, propitiate them with libations and burnt‐offerings, both when you go to bed and when the holy light comes. The meaning of θύος in line 338 has been variously interpreted.32 If it is correct to think that by the words θύος and σπονδή Hesiod is referring to offerings of food and drink at daily meals, what is recommended here is that one should make offerings at meals both in the mornings and evenings.33 Jameson used this passage to demonstrate the possible routine nature of this practice, arguing that dawn and sunset were appropriate times when the Greeks normally had their meals. Nevertheless, what Hesiod recommends as a twice‐daily ritual probably represents more an ideal than reality. While the practice seems to have been sufficiently common, how frequently and invariably the rite was performed is difficult to know. Its actual observance might have depended on many factors, such as the disposition of the individual, the circumstances in which he found himself, his need to communicate with the gods, and in whose company he was eating. We may imagine that on a particular day when an individual had a particular need to appeal to the gods, he might have been more motivated than usual to remember the gods’ share at his meals or to give them a bigger portion. Page 6 of 12

First Offerings at Meals (p.126) To offer some food and drink to the gods, and to suppose that the gods would partake of them (as implied in the Homeric scene in the Cyclops’ cave seen earlier),34 shows the Greeks’ conception that their gods behaved like humans.35 Certainly it is impossible, and unimportant for our purpose, to trace the ‘origins’ of this preliminary meal ritual. Yet it is attractive to think that the traditional value attached to xenia or ritualized friendship in Greek societies might have provided a framework for imagining the relations between men and gods. The sharing of food is the simplest act of sharing among human beings and the most basic expression of hospitality, and this is probably why food, among other things, was offered to the gods.36 But unlike in theoxenia where the gods’ presence was made manifest by images and tables expressly set, we do not know if the Greeks would imagine the gods’ presence at their daily meals. Some individuals might have performed the rite as a habitual act more or less without thought. For some others, it might have been a gesture of respect, and for some people a mere formality. As with other ancestral practices passed down by tradition, it is unclear if the ancients necessarily understood or ever reflected upon the religious significance of the ritual which they so often performed. In the last chapter we have already discussed some modern interpretations of agricultural rituals, especially the notion that first‐fruits were offered to lift taboos on the land’s produce or food in general. A different but related idea in existing scholarship is that the gods’ portions of food and/or drink could render the rest of the substance ‘holy’. According to Rudhardt, the whole drink might perhaps be ‘consecrated’ by the part of the liquid poured, among other functions of libations.37 However, the idea that first offerings at meals could ‘sacralize the whole’ is not borne out in the sources, except a fragment in Plutarch: Θυσίαν ταύτην ὁ Πλούταρχος πρόχειρον καὶ καθημερινὴν εἶπεν ὀρθῶς, ἀφ᾽ ὧν μέλλομεν ἐσθίειν ἱερὰ πάντα ποιοῦντας διὰ τοῦ ἀπάρξασθαι. καὶ γὰρ αἱ τῶν ἱερῶν τραπεζώσεις τοῦτο εἶχον· ἀπαρξάμενοι γὰρ ἀπ᾽ αὐτῶν ἐδαίνυντο.38 (p.127) Plutarch rightly calls this an easy and daily sacrifice, making holy all that we are going to eat, through the offering of first‐fruits from it. For the setting of offerings upon the table had this function, since they ate from them after having made first offerings. It is suggested here that by setting aside first offerings from the food one was going to eat, the whole substance would be rendered hieron. Despite being a rare explicit statement of the custom in the later period, Plutarch’s unusually pious attitude makes it unlikely that his view was widely shared by other priests, religious officials, and average Greeks.39 Moreover, it is difficult to use this fragment as evidence, as it comes from the Neoplatonist Proclus’ philosophical commentary on Hesiod’s Works and Days in the fifth century AD, which drew heavily on Plutarch’s earlier commentary on the same work. Proclus is here Page 7 of 12

First Offerings at Meals following Plutarch’s (mis‐)interpretation of a ritual which was apparently not related to food offerings.40 As regards this issue of a part ‘sacralizing the whole’, my view is close to Jameson’s main thesis: only in animal sacrifice, but not at meals (or in any other context, such as dedicatory practice) can the preliminary share be said to consecrate the whole.41 Jameson contrasted the thusia with other kinds of offerings: in a thusia the preliminary sacrificial offerings ‘consecrated’ the whole animal to the gods, whereas meal offerings were ‘part offerings’, with no effect on the rest of the food. Because of this essential distinction, he argued, the gods’ sacrificial share cannot be taken as equivalent to an aparche at meals or in other contexts, contrary to some modern conceptions that in animal sacrifice the gods received only the preliminary (p.128) portions. This important difference corroborates the discussion in Chapter 1 on the convergence and divergence between preliminary offerings in sacrificial and dedicatory practices. First offerings at meals express the same general ideas as other kinds of first offerings. Theophrastus’ account of the development of sacrifice, discussed earlier in Chapter 2, presents us with an evolutionary process by which men’s diet changed, thereby changing the nature of the food offered as aparchai to the gods.42 What we can see is the close correspondence between human provisions and food offerings to the gods. The relationship between food for men and food offerings to the gods is alluded to in a passage in Plutarch’s Moralia, where Cleodorus defends the custom of eating against Solon’s claim that the greatest good is to require no food at all. In the course of his arguments, he points out that without food and agriculture, there will be nothing to be thankful for and nothing to offer as sacrifice or libation, hence no honour will be paid to the gods: ὀμβρίῳ δὲ Διὶ καὶ προηροσίᾳ Δήμητρι καὶ φυταλμίῳ Ποσειδῶνι ποῦ βωμός ἐστι, ποῦ δὲ θυσία; πῶς δὲ χαριδότης ὁ Διόνυσος, εἰ δεησόμεθα μηδενὸς ὧν δίδωσι; τί δὲ θύσομεν ἢ σπείσομεν; τίνος δ᾽ ἀπαρξόμεθα;43 Where will there be an altar or where a sacrifice offered to Zeus who sends the rain, or to Demeter who initiates the ploughing, or to Poseidon who watches over the tender crops? How shall Dionysus be the giver of delights, if we shall require none of the gifts which he gives? What shall we offer as a sacrifice or libation, and what shall we dedicate as first‐fruits? Although the emphasis is on the fellowship made possible by men’s need for food, the implication seems to be that food offerings to the gods were motivated by, and depended primarily on, divine provision of all the conditions that made food available for human sustenance. It would therefore seem legitimate for a portion of daily food to be offered to the gods in acknowledgement of their role. As is the case with agricultural first‐fruits such as the thalusia, thargelos, and eiresione seen in the preceding chapter, instead of any prohibition on eating or Page 8 of 12

First Offerings at Meals any need to ‘make holy’ the food, it is the favour of the gods and the worshippers’ dependence on the divine which should be stressed. (p.129) If anything is unusual about meal offerings, it is the simplicity and regularity with which they were made. They provide one of the few examples in the study of aparchai or indeed in the whole of Greek religion where, outside communal festivals, outside any personal need to ask for or return a divine favour, an individual would offer something to the gods.44 Their humble and unpretentious nature contrasts sharply with the majority of first offerings that have survived in our material record, which consist of durable and often expensive dedications, as we shall see in the next two chapters. Notes:

(1) Theophr. Piet. fr. 9.12–15 Pötscher = Porph. Abst. 2.20.1: ὅτι δὲ οὐ τῷ εὐόγκῳ χαίρει ὁ θεὸς τῶν θυσιῶν, ἀλλὰ τῷ τυχόντι, δῆλον ἐκ τοῦ τῆς καθ᾽ ἡμέραν τροφῆς, κἂν ὁποία τις οὖν αὕτη παρατεθῇ, ταύτης πρὸ τῶν ἀπολαύσεων πάντας ἀπάρχεσθαι μικρὸν μέν, ἀλλὰ τῷ μικρῷ τούτῳ παντὸς μᾶλλον μεγάλη τίς ἐστι τιμή (tr. adapted from Fortenbaugh et al.). (2) Outside Greece, Strabo 17.1.38, 811–12, has a delightful instance where the word aparche is applied to the portion of food and drink offered to a sacred crocodile in the Egyptian city of Arsinoë (earlier called Crocodilopolis) by the priests and foreigners. (3) The diversity of food offerings and modalities of offering are discussed in Jameson (1994), 37–9, Bruit Zaidman (2005b). (4) Jameson (1949). Passing remarks are found in e.g. Nilsson (1940), 73–4, (1967–74), vol. 1, 146, Jameson (1988b), 966, Rudhardt (1992 [1958]), 219, Jameson (1994), 38, Parker (2005), 13. Alimentary rituals (but not preliminary meal offerings) are discussed in Nadeau (2010), ch. 3. Recent studies of Greek domestic religion e.g. Boedeker (2008), Faraone (2008), and Morgan (2010), ch. 6, do not discuss this custom. (5) Hom. Il. 9.199–221, at 219–20. The word θυηλαί also appears in e.g. Ar. Av. 1520 and metaphorically in Soph. El. 1423. See Jameson (1949), 139 (who pointed out that θυηλαί could refer to both flesh and vegetable offerings), Casabona (1966), 121–2, LSJ, s.v. θυηλή. (6) Hsch. θ 837 s.v. θυηλάς, Etym. Magn. 457.32–6 s.v. θυηλαί, Schol. Hom. Il. 9.219–20 Erbse. (7) On the centrality of wheat and barley in the ancient Greek diet, see Foxhall and Forbes (1982), Sallares (1991), Garnsey (1999), ch. 1, Beer (2009), esp. 17–

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First Offerings at Meals 27, Auberger (2010), Kearns (2011), 91–2. On the possibility of consuming meat outside animal sacrifice, see Parker (2010a), Naiden (2013), ch. 6. (8) Hom. Od. 14.414–56 (see Chapter 1, with n. 11, on Meuli’s (1975) and Petropoulou’s (1987) view that the much-disputed word argmata in line 446 might refer to offerings at meals). (9) Jameson (1949), passim. See also Scheid (2011), who argues against the traditional opposition between vegetable offerings and animal sacrifice in Roman religion, emphasizing instead their similarities: both involved a process of cooking and preparation, both were offered in a meal context, and both were consumed by worshippers (except for offerings to chthonic deities). (10) Hom. Od. 9.231–2, with commentaries in Heubeck and Hoekstra (1989), vol. 2, 27, Dawe (1993), 369. (11) Schol. Hom. Od. 9.231 Dindorf. (12) Ath. 5.179b–c. (13) See Chapter 1. (14) Epicurus p. 115 Usener, Ath. 5.179d. (15) Xen. Cyr. 7.1.1, Hier. 4.2. (16) Theophr. Piet. fr. 2.39–43 Pötscher = Porph. Abst. 2.6.4. (17) On libations, see Tolles (1943), Rudhardt (1992 [1958]), 240–5, Burkert (1985), 70–3 (revised edn in Burkert (2011), 113–17), Lissarrague (1990 [1987]), Simon (2004), Patton (2009), 27–56, Nadeau (2010), 170–9. Choai and chein were especially common for the dead and chthonic deities: see Rudhardt (1992 [1958]), 246–8. (18) The isolated examples are Theophr. Char. 10.3 (aparchesthai), Theophr. Piet. fr. 2.39–43 Pötscher = Porph. Abst. 2.6.4 (aparchesthai), Plut. Mar. 27.5 (aparchesthai), Plut. Quaest. conv. 3.7.1, 655e (katarchesthai, discussed in Chapter 3 on the Pithoigia). We have already seen the Homeric formula ἐπάρχεσθαι δεπάεσσιν in Chapter 1, n. 104: this phrase applies specifically to wine‐drinking in Homeric banquets and does not relate to ordinary meals. (19) Rudhardt (1992 [1958]), 243. (20) Plut. Mar. 27.5. (21) Ath. 5.179d, 8.363d (but the context here is public banquets rather than daily meals).

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First Offerings at Meals (22) Theophr. Char. 10.3. Ussher (1960), 105, thinks that a huntsman’s banquet for Artemis is depicted here; cf. Diggle (2004), 304: ‘a private religious association, or dining‐ and drinking‐club, under the patronage of Artemis’. Steinmetz (1960–2), 133, and Cunningham, Knox, and Rusten (1993), 91, think that the offering here consists of a libation of wine. (23) Pyrgio, FGrH 467 F 1, Ath. 4.143e–f (tr. Olson). (24) E.g. Hom. Il. 10.577–9. See also Pl. Phd. 117b–c: Socrates wanted to pour several drops to the gods before drinking the poison, testifying to the customary nature of the practice. (25) The religious importance of household hearths is discussed in Nilsson (1940), 72, Parker (2005), 13–15; however, they are rarely attested in archaeological evidence from the Classical period, as stressed by Jameson (1990a), 98, 105, (1990b), 193, and Morgan (2010), 149–52. Household altars: see n. 28 below. (26) Jameson (1990a), 105. (27) Porph. Abst. 2.16.5 (this is not identified as a fragment of Theophrastus). Different methods of offering (mainly in public contexts) are discussed in Patera (2012), esp. chs 3–4. (28) Literary evidence: e.g. Ar. Pax 938, 942, Pl. Leg. 910a–b, Isoc. 5.117; Mare (1962), 59–64, 86–9, 141–51. Archaeological evidence: Yavis (1949), esp. 171–6, Morgan (2010), 153–7. (29) On trapezomata and cult tables, see Dow and Gill (1965), Gill (1974), (1991). (30) On mageiroi, see e.g. Men. Aspis 216–20, Dys. 644–6, Pk. 992–1000, Pseudherakles fr. 409.1–5 K.–A., Athenio fr. 1.40–3 K.–A., Ath. 7.291f–292a (= Diphilus, fr. 42 K.–A.), 9.386a–b (= Alexis, fr. 177 K.–A.), 14.659d–660a (= Men. Kol. fr. 1 Körte and Sandbach); Berthiaume (1982), passim, esp. 32–7 (on their role in private sacrifices), Wilkins (2000), 369 ff. (on their role in comedy). (31) Hes. Op. 336–9 (adapted from West). (32) Jameson (1949), 158–9: some form of breadstuff; Casabona (1966), 111, throwing into the fire ‘quelques gouttes de liquide et quelques grains de parfum’ (his italics); West (1978), 241: ‘minor burnt‐offerings like cakes and incense’; Rudhardt (1992 [1958]), 244 n. 10: vegetable offerings, as the Greeks were not rich enough to make an animal sacrifice every day; LSJ suppl. s.v. θύος: I. 1. ‘a substance producing a fragrant smell when burnt, incense, or sim.’, 2. = θυμιάματα, II: a cake.

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First Offerings at Meals (33) Such is the interpretation of Jameson (1949), 151–62. West (1978), 241, cites Greek and non‐Greek practices of making prostrations, prayers, and burning incense at the rising and setting of the sun, without saying what custom precisely is referred to here. (34) Hom. Od. 9.231–2. (35) Gods’ resemblance to men: see Chapter 2, n. 17. (36) Burkert (1979), 52–3. (37) Rudhardt (1992 [1958]), 245. (38) Plut. fr. 95 Sandbach. (39) On Plutarch’s religiosity, see e.g. Brenk (1977), Veyne (2005), 633–81. (40) On Proclus’ use of Plutarch’s commentary of Hes. Op., see Sandbach (1969), 104–7, Faraggiana di Sarzana (1987), 21–2, and Dickey (2007), 41. This fragment is part of Proclus’ commentary (drawing on Plutarch’s) on Hes. Op. 748–9 (preserved in Schol. vet. Hes. Op. 748–9 Pertusi), where one piece of Hesiod’s advice is μηδ᾽ ἀπὸ χυτροπόδων ἀνεπιρρέκτων ἀνελόντα ἔσθειν μηδὲ λόεσθαι, ἐπεὶ καὶ τοῖς ἔνι ποινή (‘do not take from undedicated cauldrons to eat or wash yourself, since upon these things too there is punishment’) (tr. Most). Plutarch is equating the rite ἐπιρρέζειν χυτρόποδι in Hesiod with the ritual of offering aparchai of food before meals, an association that is also made in Plut. Quaest conv. 7.4.4, 703d and followed by Jameson (1949), 143–50. However, Plutarch and Jameson can hardly be right in equating what are essentially two different rites. What is probably meant in Hes. Op. 748–9 is that there should be a sacrifice for purification before a new pot was used; this is the interpretation or translation preferred by Sinclair (1932), 77, Casabona (1966), 63–4, West (1978), 341, (1988), 59, Most (2006–7), vol. 1, 147, cf. Mazon (1914), 148, (1944), 113. (41) Jameson (1949), passim, esp. 63–4. (42) Esp. Theophr. Piet. fr. 2.26–43 Pötscher = Porph. Abst. 2.6.1–4. (43) Plut. Conv. Sept. sap. 158c–f, at 158e (tr. Babbitt). (44) Jameson (1949), 151–2.

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Private Dedications

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

Private Dedications Theodora Suk Fong Jim

DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.003.0006

Abstract and Keywords Although Christiane Sourvinou-Inwood’s polis religion model did not deny the vitality of religious life at the sub-polis level, the fact remains that historians have accorded more attention to the public sphere. Private individuals have thus tended to be subsumed within the framework of the community, their role and importance inevitably obscured. By studying individuals bringing first offerings (their social background, reasons for dedication, and choice of objects and recipients), this chapter seeks to advance the study of personal piety in ancient Greece, and to remedy the imbalance in treatment between the ‘public’ and ‘private’ in modern scholarship. The role of individuals in shaping religious custom will emerge: contrary to the claim that the Greeks merely followed social conventions without thought, it will be seen that individuals could actively adapt an established practice to suit their different needs and circumstances. Keywords:   ancient Greece, personal piety, individuals, dedications, social background, religious life

In one of Isaeus’ speeches, the speaker claims that his ancestors, among other services for the city, adorned the acropolis with many bronze and marble statues as aparchai of their private wealth (ἔτι δ᾽ ἐν ἀκροπόλει ἀπαρχὰς τῶν ὄντων ἀναθέντες πολλοῖς, ὡς ἀπὸ ἰδίας κτήσεως, ἀγάλμασι χαλκοῖς καὶ λιθίνοις κεκοσμήκασι τὸ ἱερόν).1 In the rhetoric of law‐court speeches, aparchai‐dedication is cited here as an expression of a prosperous family’s wealth, social status, and benevolence to the city and gods. In reality, however, aparchai and dekatai were not the preserve of members of the upper classes, nor were they limited to bronze and marble monuments. Individuals of different social standing could bring a range of objects to the gods as first offerings, and Page 1 of 41

Private Dedications for a variety of reasons. If marble objects predominate in the archaeological record, it is merely due to the unbalanced survival of the evidence, with humble offerings in perishable material having been irretrievably lost. Although Christiane Sourvinou‐Inwood’s influential article on polis religion did not deny the vitality of religious activities at a lower level in the polis,2 the fact remains that historians have traditionally accorded more attention to the public sphere. Private individuals have therefore tended to be subsumed within the framework of the community, with the result that their role and importance have been inevitably obscured.3 This chapter focuses attention on ordinary individuals from all walks of life bringing first offerings to the gods. (p.131) By ‘private dedications’ I refer to offerings made by ordinary individuals or groups, irrespective of their number and social status, on their own initiative and funding, as compared to those dedicated collectively by Greek cities or by monarchs on behalf of their people (see Chapter 6). We shall see how the religious practice was adapted by individuals to suit their needs and circumstances, and how different worshippers made decisions with regard to bringing first offerings. The inscribed texts on the actual dedicated objects constitute our main source. By recording the interactions between the gods and ordinary men and women, who rarely, if ever, feature in the writings of ancient authors, these objects and their accompanying inscriptions, however brief, bring us vividly into contact with the religious life of members of ancient Greek societies. Some 350 first offerings brought by private individuals have come down to us from all over the Greek world from the Archaic to the Hellenistic periods.4 Surviving examples are concentrated in the fifth century, dwindle in the fourth, and become considerably fewer in the Hellenistic period. Dekatai are more commonly attested than aparchai, and apargmata and akrothinia are relatively rare. It is difficult to know precisely what proportion of gifts to the gods first offerings constituted since we do not possess complete knowledge of all religious offerings in all of the Greek world. But to give a rough idea of the relative quantity of first offerings, in fifth‐century Attica (the region and period where the material is best documented) first offerings make up about one‐third of all the surviving private dedications inscribed on stone. Attica alone provides slightly less than half (145 instances) of all the surviving materials.5 Elsewhere in Greece first offerings are very widespread: they are most abundant in Cyrene6 (p.132) and Rhodes,7 with isolated instances scattered in Delphi and Epidaurus in mainland Greece, Delos and other islands in the Aegean, Asia Minor to the east, and Italy and Sicily to the west. So pervasive was the religious custom that, in a manner strikingly similar to, and perhaps influenced by, the Greek practice, comparable dedications of tithes inscribed with the word decuma in Latin and dekatan/m in Gallo‐Greek (Gaulish in Greek script) are attested in different parts of Italy and southern Gaul.8 Page 2 of 41

Private Dedications Unfortunately, most private dedicatory inscriptions are uninformative, telling us little more than the dedicator’s name and the divine recipient. We shall discuss the more revealing examples, paying particular attention to the dedicators’ background, the reason or occasion for dedication, and the choice of objects and sanctuaries. The materials in Attica will be treated separately from those found elsewhere in order to compare the dedicatory practices between Attica and other parts of Greece. Finally, we shall return to the question raised by Isaeus’ passage, namely the relationship (if any) between dedicators’ background and the nature of their dedications.

(p.133) I. Background of dedicators (a) Attica

Not all dedicators stated their background or their trade in the inscription accompanying their first offerings. In Attica we can identify more or less securely, based on contextual information and/or prosopography, worshippers in the following ‘occupations’.9 Craftsmen

Three first offerings on the Athenian acropolis preserve part or the whole of the word κεραμεύς,10 signifying that the dedicator was a ‘potter’.11 The most splendid and most frequently disputed of these dedications is Nearchos’ aparche in the late sixth century. The capital of a marble pillar has the inscription Νέαρχος ἀνέθεκεν̣ [ℎο κεραμε]|ὺς ἔργον ἀπαρχὲν τ̣ἀθ[εναίαι]. | Ἀντένορ ἐπ[οίεσεν ℎ]|ο Εὐμάρος τ[ὸ ἄγαλμα] (‘Nearchos [the pott]er dedicated an aparche of his works to Ath[ena]. Antenor son of Eumares ma[de the statue]’).12 (p.134)

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Private Dedications It is generally agreed that an over‐ life‐size marble kore (Acr. no. 681, Fig. 1) bearing the signature Antenor belongs to this inscribed base.13 Antenor son of Eumares was the celebrated sculptor to whom have been attributed the pedimental sculptures of the temple (p.135) of Apollo in Delphi and the statues of the tyrannicides, which suggests that Nearchos must have been very prosperous to be able to commission him. Based on the inscription’s letter forms and the kore’s style, this object is normally assigned the date c.525–510 BC, and Raubitschek identified the dedicator with the known Attic black‐figure potter/painter of the same name in the sixth century. Nevertheless, a chronological problem presents itself: the vases signed by the Attic black‐figure potter/painter Nearchos are dated to the second quarter of the sixth century (c.570–555 BC), thus leaving a gap of about thirty to forty‐five years between the potter’s career and the earliest stylistic date normally considered for Nearchos’ dedication.14 Raubitschek reconciled this Fig. 1 . Marble kore dedicated by discrepancy by suggesting that Nearchos, c.525–510 BC (Acr. no. 681) the potter Nearchos lived long and offered this statue after retirement, but others take the dedicator as a homonymous son or grandson of the artisan Nearchos.15 Nevertheless, in light of the fact that Nearchos was a rare name in Archaic and Classical Athens, our dedicator Nearchos and the known potter/painter of the same name might well be the same person;16 and if so, Raubitschek may be right in thinking that the aparche was made late in his life.

Interestingly enough, the dekate of the second potter Euphronios presents similar chronological problems. The marble pillar, probably once bearing a statue, has the fragmentary inscription [Ε]ὐφρόνιος [⋮ ἀνέθεκε]ν [⋮----c.7----] | κεραμεὺς ⋮ [τἀθεναί]αι δε̣[κάτεν] (‘[E]uphronios the potter [dedicated] a ti[the to Athen]a’).17 Boardman dated the work of the red‐figure potter/painter Euphronios to between c.520 and c.505 BC, whereas Raubitschek dated the acropolis dedication to shortly after 480 BC on the basis of the inscription’s Page 4 of 41

Private Dedications letter forms and the object’s find‐spot, thus leaving a twenty‐five‐ to forty‐year gap if the two Euphronioi were the same person.18 Raubitschek again (p.136) suggested that potters/painters tended to make acropolis dedications at the end of their career.19 The last line of Euphronios’ inscription (IG I3 824 B) contains the word [ℎ]υγίεια[ν] in a fragmentary context, indicating perhaps a prayer for the health of the dedicator and/or that of his pots. Based on the fact that Euphronios changed his career from painter to potter, Maxmin postulates that his vision was deteriorating, and that the dedication was made to appeal for divine treatment of his failing health. Williams, on the other hand, prefers to see the offering as an expression of gratitude by an old man for a prosperous life and good health.20 The latter interpretation, of a retrospective thank‐offering, is more in line with the nature of most aparchai and dekatai. If it is correct to identify the dedicator Euphronios with the potter/painter of the same name active in the late sixth century, the suggestion of a retirement offering is the most plausible, and is corroborated by other first offerings possibly made at the end of the dedicator’s career, which we shall see later. Little is known about the third potter Peikon. His dekate to Athena, a marble column perhaps once with a small seated statue on top, was made in fulfilment of a vow: Πείκον εὐχσά|μενος κερα|μεὺς δεκάτεν | ἀνέθεκεν | τἀθεναίαι (‘Peikon the potter dedicated a tithe to Athena in fulfilment of a vow’).21 The potter Peikon is otherwise unknown. In addition to the above three individuals who explicitly called themselves κεραμεύς in their inscriptions, Onesimos son of Smikythos has also been identified as a potter/painter. He alone accounts for seven basins (perirrhanteria) of island marble, each carrying the word aparche (some by supplements), dedicated to Athena between 485 and 480 BC. In more or less the same period (c.500–480 BC) he also dedicated a pillar monument (perhaps once carrying bronze statuettes) as an aparche, to which his son Theodoros later added an inscription and another statuette, so that the rectangular pillar capital carries two separate dedicatory inscriptions in different letter forms: Θεό[δο]ρος ⋮ ἀν[έθεκεν ⋮ Ὀν]ε̣σίμο ⋮ ℎ[υιός] (‘Theo[do]ros [son of On]esimos (p.137) de[dicated]’) in the upper line, and Ὀνέσιμος ⋮ μ᾽ ἀνέθεκεν ⋮ ἀπαρχὲν | τἀθεναίαι ⋮ ℎο Σμικύθο ℎυιός (‘Onesimos son of Smikythos dedicated me as an aparche to Athena’) directly below it.22 Raubitschek associated this Onesimos with the red‐ figure vase‐painter of the same name whose career dated from the late sixth century to c.480 BC, conjecturing that his son Theodoros might likewise have been a potter/painter. However, since the vase-painter Onesimos’ patronymic is not preserved, and Onesimos was a common name among citizens and foreign residents in Attica, the two persons cannot be securely taken as identical.23 Based on name matches (often without patronymics or demotics) and other problematic criteria, Raubitschek identified many other dedicators too as potters or artisans, but many of his identifications have been questioned or rejected.24

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Private Dedications Also worthy of mention is a so‐called ‘potter relief’ on the Athenian acropolis. Dated to the end of the sixth century, a relief in pentelic marble depicts a bearded man seated on a stool (diphros) and holding two drinking cups (kylikes) in his left hand. Along its margin is a fragmentary inscription bearing the dedicator’s name ending in ‐α̣ῖος and the words ἀνέθεκεν and δεκάτεν.25 This is generally thought to be a representation of the dedicating potter, or perhaps a metal‐worker, holding two pieces of his own wares.26 Another marble relief, from (p.138) fifth‐century Athens, depicts an individual seated behind a table and handing a small gift to Athena, who has her right hand extended towards him. Some scholars interpret this as representing Athena Ergane receiving an aparche from a craftsman, but in the absence of any accompanying inscription, both the nature of the gift and the identity of the dedicator should remain uncertain.27 In some of the above examples (such as Nearchos’ marble statue and possibly others), the object was not fashioned by the dedicating potter, but by another artisan. However, some craftsmen appear to have dedicated a piece of their own craft‐work as a first offering. A fifth‐century pillar monument made of island marble on the Athenian acropolis is inscribed in verse [ἐσθλὸν] τοῖσι σοφοῖσι σο[φ]ίζεσθ[αι κ]ατ[ὰ τέχνεν] / [ℎὸς γὰρ] ℎέχει τέχνεν λõι[ο]ν᾽ ℎέχ[ει βίοτον]. [— c.4–5?—]ε Ἀθεναίαι δεκάτ[εν-------] (‘[It is good] for the wise to devise skilfully accord[ing to their skill], [for he who] has a skill ha[s] a bett[e]r [livelihood].… a tith[e] to Athena’). This individual, who dwelt on his σοφία and τέχνη, might have been a craftsman dedicating a piece of his own work as a dekate.28 Some dedications in Attica and elsewhere appear to have been fashioned by the dedicator himself, but none of these uses the word aparche, dekate, or the like.29 Craftswoman

In the fourth century a woman dedicated a rectangular marble base with the following inscription: χερσί τε καὶ τέχ[ν]αις ἔργων τόλμαις τε δικαίαις θρεψαμένη τέκνων γεν[εὰ]ν ἀνέθηκε Μέλιννα σοὶ τήνδε μνήμην, θεὰ Ἐργάνη, (p.139) ὧν ἐπόνησεν μοῖραν ἀπαρξαμένη κτεάνων, τιμῶσα χάριν σήν.30 By her hands and skill in her work and honest courage having nursed her generation of children Melinna dedicated this memorial of her labour to you, goddess Ergane, offering a portion of her possessions as an aparche, Page 6 of 41

Private Dedications honouring your favour.

What strikes the reader is the inscription’s emphasis on the dedicator’s skills and the labour with which she brought up her children, an achievement which she prided herself on. The recipient Athena Ergane presided over crafts including weaving and pottery.31 We can therefore infer from Athena’s epithet and the expression χερσί τε καὶ τέχ[ν]αις ἔργων that Melinna most probably brought up her children by some handicraft work. Might Melinna be like the widow in Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazusae, who lost her husband in Cyprus and had to support her five children by selling wreaths in the market?32 The aorist participle θρεψαμένη (‘having raised’) may suggest that the aparche was made after her children had grown up. Probably, then, this was a thank‐offering dedicated late in her life with her savings when she looked back to the past. Retirement offerings are abundantly attested in dedicatory epigrams33 but are less readily visible in epigraphic and archaeological records. As in the cases of Melinna, Nearchos, and Euphronios seen earlier, we can only infer that the first offering was dedicated upon retirement. (p.140) Washerwoman

In the early fifth century a washerwoman (πλύντρια) called Smikythe dedicated a fully preserved pedestal base on which a marble basin would have rested (Fig. 2). Around its rim is a brief text Σμικύθε πλύντρια δεκάτεν ἀνέθεκεν (‘Smikythe the washerwoman dedicated (p.141) a tithe’).34 Presumably the dekate of her income from washing clothes paid for the object. This seems to be extraordinary expenditure for a washerwoman, a problem to which we shall return later. The name Smikythe is partially preserved in another fifth‐ century dedication (not a first offering), but in the absence of the patronymic we do not know if this was the same woman.35 Farmers and fishermen

In Chapter 3 we have already come across two private dedications bearing part or the whole of the expression δεκάτη χοριόω, dedicated probably by farmers.36 Just as farmers might bring a first offering in return for the fields’ crops, fishermen might offer some of the profits from the sea’s produce. In the fifth century an individual dedicated an aparche (of the proceeds) of a catch (ἄγρα) which he attributed to Poseidon. The marble pillar, probably once supporting a kore, is inscribed in verse: [τέ]νδε κόρεν ἀ[ν]έθεκεν ἀπαρχὲν [Ναύ(?)]λοχος ἄγρας : / ἓν οἱ ποντομέδ[ον χρ]υ̣σοτρία[ι]ν᾽ ἔπορεν (‘[Nau?]lochos dedicated this kore as an aparche of the catch which the lord of the sea with the golden trident provided for him’). The dedicator did not indicate his trade but was most likely a fisherman.37

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Private Dedications Fullers

In the late sixth century two fullers (κναφεύς) dedicated an island marble column and an island marble basin as a dekate and aparche respectively. One is inscribed Σίμον ⋮ ἀν[έθεκε -----] ℎο κναφεὺς (p.142) [ vacat? ] δεκάτεν (‘Simon the fuller de[dicated] a tithe’); and the other Πολύχσενος ⋮ ℎο Μνέσονος ⋮ τõ [κνα]φ̣έος : ἀνέθ[εκεν] : ἀπα̣[ρ]χὲν [τἀθεναίαι] (‘Polyxenos son of Mneson, the [ful]ler, dedi[cated] an apa[r]che [to Athena]’).38 Like the washerwoman we met earlier, they explicitly identified their work in their inscriptions, as if there was no stigma about their social background. Upper‐class ‘occupations’

While some individuals openly advertised their trade as craftsmen, craftswoman, and fullers, members of the upper classes have left few traces in our evidence. It is only by prosopography that Menandros son of Demetrios from the deme Aigilia, who dedicated a marble pillar monument as an aparche in the mid‐fifth century, has been tentatively identified with the Athenian treasurer of the same name who was in office in 440/39 BC;39 yet the association remains uncertain in the absence of the treasurer’s patronymic or demotic. Another dedicator of an aparche (a marble statue base), Hermolykos son of Dieitrephes, was by name‐ matching probably a relative of the known fifth‐ or fourth‐century strategos, but his ‘profession’, if any, remains unknown.40 Apparently, a victorious Athenian athlete, who might belong to the upper class, dedicated a tithe to Athena (see section ‘Athletic victory’).41 No other elite ‘occupation’ can be identified as far as known dedicators of first offerings are concerned. Nevertheless, this should not be taken to mean that members of the upper classes did not offer aparchai and dekatai. In ancient Greece, where the leisured class did not work for a living, it was natural that work‐orientated classifications did not apply to the affluent strata of the society. (p.143) (b) Other parts of Greece

Outside Attica we meet a merchant, a Thracian courtesan, a farmer, fishermen, soldiers, (mythical) craftsmen, craftswomen, and religious officials. The Lindian Chronicle records an interesting instance of a κροσός (Rhodian dialect for κρωσσός, a water‐pail or pitcher) offered by the Telchines, who were legendary craftsmen, as a tithe of work (δεκάτη τῶν ἔργων) to Athena Polias and Zeus. Though undoubtedly imaginary, it illustrates the idea of craftsmen’s dekate. Individual soldiers or groups of soldiers might bring dekatai of spoils; some of these will be treated in the next chapter. In the mid‐fourth century in the town of Old Epidaurus, a certain Timainetos dedicated a small limestone altar as a dekate ‘of goats’ to the Anakes (Τιμαίνετος ἀνέθηκε Ἀνάκοιν δεκάταν αἰγῶν); he was probably a farmer or goat‐keeper. We also encounter two religious officials: a sacrificial slaughterer who served in the cult of Hera in southern Italy in the sixth century, and a ίεροποιός in the cult of Athena Polias at Camirus on Rhodes in the third.42 Epigraphic evidence may be supplemented with epigrams with related motifs: an epigram records an aparche of a catch (ἀπαρχὴ ἄγρας) by a Page 8 of 41

Private Dedications fisherman, and two Hellenistic epigrams concern the tithes from weavers, but these appear to be literary exercises rather than genuine offerings.43 Some of these individuals will be discussed in greater detail in what follows. Merchant

In the fourth or third century in Halicarnassus, an individual dedicated an aparche to Aphrodite in gratitude for his wealth as a merchant. The marble statue base bears this inscription in elegiacs: Ἀφροδίτηι Φάεινος (p.144) Ζηνοδώρου [Φαῖνο]ς σοὶ τόδε, Κύπρι, καλὸγ καλῆι εἷσεν ἄγαλ[μα] [πλήρ]εσιν ἐξ ἔργων χερσὶν ἀπαρξάμενος, [ἦ γὰρ] ἐπεί ποτέ νιμ μέγαν ἔμπορον εἰς ἅλα ἔβησα[ς] [ἐ]ξ ὁσίων ὅσιος δῶμα συνέσχεν ἀνήρ.44

To Aphrodite, Phaeinos son of Zenodoros, [Phaeino]s set up this beautiful stat[ue] to you, beautiful Cypris, having made a first offering from his work with [fill]ed hands, since you once sent him as a great merchant to sea, [fr]om pious acts as a pious man he kept together his household. The word ἔργα here refers to trading, when it usually refers to something more concrete, such as pottery and handicraft work. By emphasizing that the dedicator was ‘a great merchant’ and ‘a pious man’, this aparche demonstrates well the dual potential of dedications in advertising one’s prosperity and piety. Courtesan

Herodotus tells us that after the Thracian slave Rhodopis became a freedwoman, she made a fortune in Egypt as a courtesan and sent a quantity of ox‐sized iron spits to Delphi using a tithe of her earnings (τῆς ὦν δεκάτης τῶν χρημάτων ποιησαμένη ὀβελοὺς βουπόρους πολλοὺς σιδηρέους). It was Rhodopis’ ambition, Herodotus asserts, to leave a memorial of herself in Greece by offering what no other had thought of dedicating, but in fact dedications of iron spits are not without parallels. The historicity of Rhodopis’ dedication appears to be confirmed by epigraphic and archaeological evidence in Delphi: a fragment of an inscribed base dated to the mid‐sixth century has been restored to read [‐ ‐ ‐ ἀνέθε]κε Ῥοδ[οπις] (‘Rhod[opis dedica]ted’). The original base, apparently of substantial size, might have held Rhodopis’ iron spits if correctly restored.45 Rhodopis had sufficient (p.145) means to set up a first offering in a Panhellenic instead of a local shrine, and we shall encounter more such individuals later. Sacrificial slaughterer

A particularly interesting work‐related dekate is a bronze axe (Fig. 3) discovered in Calabria at Sant’Agata, lying inland some way from Laos and near Sybaris. Dated to the last quarter of the sixth century, the inscription declares the axe as Page 9 of 41

Private Dedications a ‘tithe of work’ (ϝέργõν δεκάταν) dedicated by a ‘butcher’ or ‘cook’ (ἄρταμος): τᾶς ℎέρας ℎιαρός | ἐμι τᾶς ἐν πεδί|οι. Ϙυνίσϙο|ς με ἀνέθε|κε ὅρταμο|ς ϝέργον | δεκάταν (‘I am sacred to Hera, the one in the plain, Kyniskos the butcher dedicated me as a tithe of his work’).46 It is unclear where the sanctuary of ‘Hera in the plain’ is located; the nearest known cult of Hera in this region is the Heraion at Foce del Sele.47 This object may appear at first glance to have belonged to an ordinary butcher, but its elaborate decorations suggest that it was not intended for everyday use. Both Callaway and Guarducci understood it as the tool of trade of a professional butcher; Guarducci further pointed out that it was not an axe with which to cut the meat, but a double hammer (‘un martello doppio’) used to strike a sacrificial animal at the beginning of a blood sacrifice.48 Probably, then, it was dedicated by the sacrificial slaughterer serving in the cult of Hera to mark his retirement. Unlike Nearchos, Euphronios, and Melinna, who spent a portion of their savings on a marble object for the gods at retirement, Kyniskos dedicated the tool of his job. The axe is symbolic of his work, and is unlikely to represent a real tenth of his personal earnings. (p.146) This dedication is of interest for another reason: it was written in archaic Achaean script used in various Achaean colonies in Italy, the Achaean colony nearest to the find‐spot being Sybaris. This leads Johnston to think that it was perhaps dedicated by Achaean (p. 147) colonists at Sybaris, who might have introduced the cult of Hera to this region.49 Fish‐carrier

In the late fourth century BC, a series of inscriptions recording miraculous cures (iamata) attributed to Asclepius and Apollo were engraved on stelai set up in the sanctuary of Asclepius at Epidaurus, and one of them mentions a dekate. The story goes that a fish‐carrier (ἰχθυοφόρος) called Amphimnastos, while carrying fish to Arcadia, vowed a tenth of the proceeds from his sale of fish to Asclepius (the favour sought is unspecified) but failed

Fig. 3 . Inscribed bronze axe with ornate decorations from Sant’Agata in Calabria, late sixth century BC (BM Bronze 252)

to fulfil his vow.50 Later, while selling fish at Tegea, he was attacked by fish51 Page 10 of 41

Private Dedications suddenly appearing from everywhere; the spectacle attracted a large crowd, before which he confessed his deceit to the god. Upon his entreaties the god relieved him of the attack, and Amphimnastos dedicated a dekate to the god. Although the incident might not be genuine, it demonstrates the idea that a vow must be fulfilled. Weavers

A Hellenistic epigram attributed to Leonidas of Tarentum in the third century BC mentions a tithe related to craftwork. Four sisters, who (p.148) worked as weavers, jointly dedicated ‘from the tithe of their work’ (ἔργων ἐκ δεκάτας) miscellaneous weaving tools to Athena, including their spindle, the weaving‐ comb, the loom, the spools, and the weaving‐blade. In return they prayed that the goddess would give them abundance in their food basket, in other words, prosperity.52 Their poverty is stressed in the lines τὼς δὲ πενιχραὶ / ἐξ ὀλίγων ὀλιγην μοῖραν ἀπαρχόμεθα (‘as we are poor we offer a small portion of our small possessions as a first offering’). We have seen, from Kyniskos’ bronze axe, that individuals might dedicate items associated with their work as an aparche or dekate at the end of a career. What is puzzling in this case is how the weavers could continue to work without their tools.53 Gow and Page resolved the problem by seeing what was dedicated as a representation, such as a painting or relief, of the objects mentioned rather than the tools themselves. That the weavers should dedicate a tithe of their work in the hope of a better fortune illustrates the potential of first offerings to look simultaneously backward and forward. What is unusual here, however, is the circumstance of its dedication: aparchai and dekatai are typically associated with some good fortune or prosperity already attained, but not with poverty or financial hardship. On the evidence presently available, this is the only case of a first offering made in such circumstances. This epigram might have applied the motif of first offerings in a literary exercise without careful consideration of the norm, and may not be taken as historical or representative of the usual practice.54 Hellenistic general/dynast

A white limestone block, discovered in the western stoa of the agora in Iasos, is inscribed: Εὐπόλεμος Σ[ι]μ̣άλου τὸν ἀνδρῶνα Ἀρτέμιδι Ἀστιάδι δεκάτην (‘Eupolemos son of S[i]malos (dedicated) an andron to Artemis Astias as a tithe’).55 Its letter forms suggest a date in the (p.149) late fourth or more probably early third century BC. Considering that an andron was a banqueting‐ hall for sacrificial feasts and dining with possible connections to religious celebrations, its dedicator Eupolemos is likely to have been a man of high social and possibly political standing. It has been proposed to identify him with Cassander’s general sent to Caria in 313 BC, who, according to the most recent interpretations, operated as a dynast of Caria and issued an abundant coinage. If

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Private Dedications the identification is correct, the most likely source of the tithe would be booty from some combat during the career of this political figure.56

II. Reasons or occasions for dedication Some of the possible reasons for bringing first offerings—retirement, a successful harvest or catch, a profitable voyage, a prosperous career—have been inferred from what we saw earlier. In this section we shall see further examples which indicate the circumstances of dedication. As few dedicatory inscriptions are explicit in this respect, our knowledge is necessarily partial. In reality the occasions and reasons for bringing aparchai and dekatai must have been much more diverse and numerous than can be identified here. (a) Attica Wealth and work

The fact that an aparche or dekate was derived from an individual’s wealth is sometimes indicated by the words ἀργύριον (‘silver’), χρήματα (‘money’), or κτέανον (‘property’, ‘possession’) in the partitive genitive. An example is a marble column from the early fifth century inscribed with the verse: [Π]αλλάδος εἰμὶ θεᾶς· ἀνέθεκε δέ μ᾽ Εὐδίκο hυὸς / Δεχσίθεος κτεάνον μοῖραν ἀπαρχσάμενος (‘I belong to the goddess [P]allas. The son of Eudikos, Dexitheos, dedicated me, making a first (p.150) offering of a portion of his property’).57 Some inscriptions refer to ἔργον (‘work’) and sometimes πόνος (‘labour’, ‘toil’) and τέχνη (‘craft’), as was common for, but certainly not exclusive to, artisans.58 Athletic victory

A small bronze image of an athlete, perhaps a disc‐thrower, dated to c.470–460 is inscribed hιερὸς ⋮ τε̑ς Ἀθεναίας. Φιλαίου ⋮ δεκάτε (‘sacred to Athena. A tithe from Philaios’). Although the text does not mention athletic activities, the iconography suggests that it probably commemorated the victory of a successful athlete.59 As Classical Athens granted cash rewards to Athenian victors in the Panhellenic games (in addition to the honorific garlands they received in the games) and also victors in various categories of games at the Panathenaea,60 it may be that Philaios had won one of these games and received a cash reward, a part of which paid for this object. Other awards of honour

In the fourth century, an Athenian dedicated a marble base as an aparche to Athena Ergane for being crowned by the members of his thiasos: [Β]άχχιος τῆι Ἀθην[ᾶι] | τεῖ Ὀργάνηι ἀπαρχὴν | ἀνέθηκεν στεφανω|θεὶς ὑπὸ τῶν θιασωτῶν (‘[B]acchios dedicated an aparche to Athen[a] Organe, after being crowned by the members of his association’).61 We are not told why he was crowned, and whether he received any substantial reward, apart from a symbolic wreath, out (p.151) of which the offering was paid for. Here the word aparche seems to signify simply a ‘dedication’ rather than a ‘part offering’.

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Private Dedications Manumission or legal victory?

A group of thirty‐three inscriptions in the late fourth century records multiple entries of silver phialai weighing 100 drachmai using a very similar formula (with some variations). An example is: Πλίννα ἐμ Πειραι οἰκοῦσα ἀποφυγοῦσα Ἀστύνομον ἐξ Οἴου, φιάλη, σταθμὸν Η (‘P(hi)linna, living in Pirae(us), having escaped Astynomos from Oia, phiale by weight: 100’).62 Since their discovery in the nineteenth century, these texts have traditionally been interpreted as concerning the manumission of slaves, with the phialai being a tax or registration fee imposed by the polis. However, according to Meyer’s new interpretation, these documents are linked not to freedmen but to metics. She postulates that these inscriptions were inventories recording the dedication of phialai generated as a result of metics’ legal victory in lawsuits called graphai aprostasiou, in which a metic was charged for failure to pay the metic tax (μετοίκιον) or to have a patron (προστάτης). The metic who escaped from conviction, she argues, would make a dedication (probably to Zeus Soter or Eleutherios) paid for by his unsuccessful prosecutor, who would be fined 1,000 drachmai: the phiale of 100 drachmai was a tenth of this fine. A major difficulty with Meyer’s interpretation is how in practice the victorious party could have dedicated a phiale paid for by the defeated—an important point left unexplained by Meyer—since the fine would presumably have gone to the state, not the victorious metic for his personal gain. If the phialai were indeed tithes from the successful defendants, we would expect them to have made a profit from the successful trial, as with most dedicators of first offerings, who typically paid for their offerings with their income or some stroke of fortune. Or one may have to suppose that a tenth of the fine collected presumably by the state (and possibly shared with the gods) was spent by the Athenians (not the defendants) on silver dedications as the gods’ portion. We have no parallels of first offerings dedicated after a legal victory in Attica or elsewhere, although (p. 152) other kinds of victory might have motivated first offerings.63 In the absence of further supporting evidence, Meyer’s interpretation must remain hypothetical. (b) Other parts of Greece Work and wealth

In other parts of Greece, eight first offerings state that they were made from the earnings of work (ἔργον).64 One could also dedicate a first offering from the work of another person, as is the case of a dekate from third‐century Calymnos: Νικίας με ἀνέθηκεν Ἀπόλλωνι υἱὸς Θρασυμήδεος, ἔργων ὧν ὁ πατὴρ ἠργάσατο τὴν δεκάτην σοι (‘Nicias son of Thrasymedes dedicated me to Apollo, a tithe for you of the work which his father performed’). Ross thought that Thrasymedes was a sculptor who made a statue at Epidaurus, whereas Segre argued against this identification. Given the wide applications of the word ἐργάζεσθαι to different activities, it is more likely that the phrase ἔργων ὧν ἠργάσατο simply indicates the money his father earned by working—whatever his work might Page 13 of 41

Private Dedications have been—and does not necessarily refer to craftsmanship. Accordingly, this might have been a tithe of Nicias’ inheritance or a tithe made in fulfilment of his father’s vow after this man’s death.65 Wealthy women, too, could dedicate a portion of their wealth. A late decree from Nysa in Caria honours a Roman woman who, inter alia, adorned the sanctuary of Ploutos and Kore with apargmata from her own good fortune (τοῖς ἀπὸ τῆς ἰδίας τύχης ἀπάργμασιν κοσμεῖ τὸ ἱερὸν).66 Apparently a portion of her fortune paid for cult tables, a marble altar, and golden objects at the shrine. This Clodia Cognita is otherwise unknown, but must have belonged to a wealthy family living at Nysa. (p.153) Athletic victory

In the sixth century, an Olympic victor from Sybaris dedicated a dekate of his prize in his home city in fulfilment of a vow to Athena. A bronze plaque discovered in Sybaris is thus inscribed: Δο∙ Κλεόμροτος ὁ Δεξιλάϝο ∙ ἀνέθεκ᾽ Ὀλυνπίαι νικάσας ϝίσο(μ) μᾶκός τε πάχος τε τἀθάναι ἀϝέθλον εὐξάμενος δεκάταν (‘Kleomrotos son of Dexilaos, having won at Olympia, dedicated (this), equal in length and breadth, having vowed to Athena a tithe of his prizes’). Not only is the phrase ‘equal in length and breadth’ puzzling to historians,67 it is also unclear how ‘a tithe of his prizes’ should be understood. Given that winners in crown games were awarded an olive wreath, how could a tithe of a wreath pay for the dedication? Athens aside, we do not know how many cities in this period provided cash rewards for their Panhellenic victors.68 If Kleombrotos had not received a monetary reward from Sybaris, the dekate would have been financed with a source different from that stated in the inscription. Seafaring

We have already encountered a merchant who dedicated a dekate to Aphrodite in Halicarnassus. In Phaselis in the fourth century, two individuals jointly dedicated a dekate from sailing (ἀπὸ ναυτιλίας δεκάτη) to Athena Polias. The rectangular marble block bears the inscription Νίκ̣ανδρος ὁ Νικίονος | καὶ Πολυαίνετος | ὁ Πολυκάρτεος | τἀθαναίαι τᾶι Πολιάδι | ἀπὸ ναυτιλίας | δεκάταν ἀνέθεκαν (‘Nikandros son of Nikion and Polyainetos son of Polykarteos to Athena Polias dedicated a tithe from a voyage’).69 The individuals were probably partners in trade who had returned from a profitable commercial voyage and used some of the proceeds to set up the dedication. (p.154) The Lindian Chronicle records two dekatai related to seafaring, but of dubious historicity. One entry mentions a ceramic vessel (ἐχινέα, probably some vase) (re)inscribed with this text: Ἄρετος καὶ παῖδες Ἀθαναίαι Λινδίαι δεκάταν ναὸς τᾶς ἐκ Κρήτας (‘Aretos and his children to Athena Lindia a tithe from the ship, the one from Crete’). Another entry mentions a wooden cow and calf, dedicated as a dekate by Amphinomos and his children from Sybaris after their ship had been saved (Ἀμφίνομος καὶ παῖδες ἀπ᾽ εὐρυχόρου Συβάρειος ναὸς Page 14 of 41

Private Dedications σωθείσας τάνδ᾽ ἀνέθεν δεκάταν). This entry is likely to have been fabricated out of particular Lindian interest in asserting links with Sybaris as a Rhodian colony.70 If we were to take the dedication and inscription at face value, the dedicators were probably engaged in some commercial activities, and their ship perhaps sailed past or was saved near Lindos.71 We may speculate that the tenth represented a part of the profit made in the voyage or a part of the value of the cargo that would otherwise have been lost in some potential disaster. A parallel can be drawn from Herodotus’ narrative of the Samian merchants whose ship was blown off course to the Pillars of Heracles and met with unexpected good fortune. They used a dekate of their profit (δεκάτη τῶν ἐπικερδίων), six talents, to dedicate a bronze crater in the temple of Hera on Samos.72 Manumission

A freedman’s dekate has come down to us from Chios in the late sixth century. The inscription on the limestone base seems to suggest that Philes, a freedman (ἐξελεύθερος), dedicated a tithe of the possessions of Ariston (Φιλῆς ἀνέθηκεν δεκάτην τῶν Ἀρίστ̣ωνος ἐξελεύθερος),73 (p.155) who might have been his former master. It was not uncommon for a master to free his slave and to adopt him as his heir, which may help to explain the phrase δεκάτην τῶν Ἀρίστ̣ωνος. The dekate might have been a thank‐offering to the gods for being freed, on the one hand, and a means of publicizing his manumitted status, on the other.74 Unknown occasion

1 [..]νίσκος Ξ[εν]‐ [ο]δόκο, Δῆμι[ς] [Π]υθοκλέος ο‐ [ἰ]κήιι{ηι}οι Περ[ί]‐ 5 νθιοι τῆι Ἥρ‐ ηι ἀνέθεσαν δεκάτην ἔρ‐ δοντες γορ‐ γύρην χρυσῆ‐ 10 ν, σερῆνα ἀργ‐ ύρεον, φιάλη‐ ν ἀργυρῆν, λυ‐ χνίην χαλκῆ‐ ν ὀνονημένα 15 σύνπαντα δ‐ [ι]ηκοσίων δυ‐ ωδέκων στατ‐ ήρων Σαμίω‐ ν σὺν τῶι λίθω[ι].75

–niskos son of Xenodokos and Demis son of Pythokles, Perinthian kinsmen (of Samos) [?], fulfilling their tithe dedicated to Hera a gold Gorgon, a

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Private Dedications silver Siren, a silver phiale, a bronze lampstand, bought all together for two hundred and twelve Samian staters along with the stone. (p.156) This interesting text was inscribed on a stone stele erected in the Samian Heraion in the sixth century. Much controversy centres on the letters O.KHIHIOI in lines 3 to 4, engraved in apposition to Περ[ί]νθιοι and qualifying the names of the two individuals. Unable to make sense of O.KHIHIOI, Klaffenbach suggested that the letters probably concealed a word for some form of craftsman, and took the offering to be comparable to craftsmen’s dedications on the Athenian acropolis.76 Robert assumed dittography by the stonecutter and proposed reading οἰκήιοι, which he understood as referring to the kinship between the two individuals. However, Guarducci argued that the stonecutter might have mistaken ι for τ, so that the otherwise unattested adjective οἰκητήιοι should be read, describing the two individuals as Samian colonists (original settlers) who settled in Perinthus on the Propontis and who, returning to their home‐city Samos, offered the dekate whether through goodwill or because of some obligation. Her emendation has been rejected by Robert and Graham on the grounds that this adjective is without parallels. Graham suggests reading ο[ἰ]κήι{ηι}οι (as Robert did), which in his view refers to the kinship between the Perinthian individuals and their mother‐city Samos: the meaning of οἰκεῖος as ‘kin, related’77 was perhaps extended to colonial relationships, hence the Perinthian colonists called themselves ‘kinsmen’ (of Samos).78 Perinthus was a Samian colony founded in c.602 BC.79 Although it was common for colonies to send first offerings to their mother‐city (as we shall see in Chapter 7), the lack of indication that the two individuals were Perinthian representatives goes decisively against Graham’s view. If this was indeed a public offering, we would expect it to be made in the name of the dedicating city, not in the individuals’ own names. A possible alternative is to see this dekate as a private (p.157) dedication offered by two Perinthians living on Samos on their own initiative, with the phrase ο[ἰ]κήι{ηι}οι Περ[ί]νθιοι referring to themselves as ‘Perinthian kinsmen (of Samos)’. Another point of interest is the statement of its exact cost: rarely do we find a first offering whose monetary value is stated explicitly in the inscription. The individuals might have jointly vowed a dekate, in fulfilment of which they scrupulously stated the objects’ total value, as if to indicate that the correct sum was duly paid to the goddess. First offerings and vow fulfilment

We mentioned in the Introduction that Greek religion was a ‘votive’ religion: any gifts to the gods, including first offerings, could be made in fulfilment of a vow. Of the some 145 first offerings that have come down to us from Attica, four aparchai and eleven dekatai carry the words εὔξάμενος/η and εὐχωλή (some by supplement), indicating that they were made to discharge a vow. Elsewhere in Greece, four dekatai and one akrothinion mention a vow.80 One dekate in Athens was made by an individual to fulfil a vow made by his child. The implication Page 16 of 41

Private Dedications seems to be that the child had died, and it had become necessary for his father to bring the offering on his behalf.81 The rest which were not demonstrably ‘vowed’ or ‘votives’ present us with the possibility that they were offered to the gods spontaneously without any prior promises made or that, if a vow was involved, it was not made explicit in the inscription. Unfortunately, where a vow is explicitly referred to in these offerings, we are never told the circumstances under which it was made. What we have seen above suggests a strong tendency for first offerings to be made after some good happening, be it an athletic victory, other awards of honour, earnings from work, manumission, or any profitable enterprise. By contrast, no historical example of aparche or dekate mentions deliverance from illness or other calamities—one of the most common reasons for honouring the (p.158) gods with gifts,82 but not gifts termed aparchai or dekatai—except one dekate (doubtless fabricated) in the Lindian Chronicle concerning a ship which had been saved.83 It therefore seems uncommon, if not impossible, for individuals to vow a first offering when in a difficult or critical situation of this kind.84 It is more likely that vows of the aparchai or dekatai type were usually made when individuals were praying for some benefit or success, and were fulfilled when the request was granted. Some of the work‐related first offerings were doubtless time‐restricted and conditional: individuals might vow an aparche or dekate of next year’s earnings, for example, should their trade be prosperous or meet a certain return.85 But they could also look back on a successful year or enterprise and decide to make a first offering without any prior agreement with the gods. Whether a vow was involved, and whatever the precise context for making it, what is certain is that first offerings were customarily presented to the gods after (not before) some benefits were received.

III. Choice of objects, deities, and sanctuaries From what we have seen, there is an over‐concentration of surviving marble monuments on the Athenian acropolis as in other sanctuaries, but we must not forget that less costly objects were also presented to the gods as first offerings, including vessels,86 personal items, ritual (p.159) objects, tools of trade, money, and other objects.87 In Chapter 1 we also came across an inscribed roof‐tile dedicated as an apargma to Aphrodite in Histria in the sixth century.88 Although we can only speculate about its dedicator and context of dedication, its interest lies in the fact that it demonstrates the possible range of objects that could (p.160) be brought to the gods as first offerings. Some of these items were presumably rather cheap and humble,89 presenting to us a very different world from that of the

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Private Dedications conspicuous bronze and marble statues alluded to in the passage from Isaeus cited at the beginning of this chapter.

The private dedications discussed in this chapter may be categorized using the traditional distinction between ‘raw’ and ‘converted’ offerings. Some individuals (such as Nearchos the potter and Melinna the craftswoman) had a portion of their proceeds ‘converted’ into an object especially made for the gods, whereas others (like Kyniskos the sacrificial slaughterer) dedicated an existing object normally used in other contexts. Personal items, such as a mirror handle or bronze axe, are unlikely to have constituted a tenth or any fixed portion of an individual’s earnings, and may be seen as symbolic offerings that had (p.161) close associations with the owner. Alternatively we can conceptualize the modalities of dedication in terms of ‘new’ and ‘used’ objects. Under this schema, ‘converted’ offerings could fall into both categories. We have seen that one of Onesimos’ dedications appears to have been reused by his son. The vessel dedicated by Aretos and his children, as the Lindian Chronicle indicates, was reinscribed and might have originally existed in the sanctuary at Lindos.90 The ‘raw’ vegetarian first offerings discussed in Chapters 3 and 4, on the other hand, appear to have been offered primarily new. Yet the distinctions thus made between different types of offerings are fluid and artificially constructed. Whether ‘raw’ or ‘converted’, ‘new’ or ‘used’, these items could all be set aside for the gods as first offerings and as a means of establishing relations with the divine. This brings us back to the point, made in the Introduction, that what is central about gifts to the gods is the act of setting something apart for them from human use. The physical form these gifts took and their placement are of secondary importance. The vast majority of first offerings seen in this chapter were found in local rather than Panhellenic sanctuaries, with a preponderance of them being presented to the cities’ principal deities. Thus at Athens most aparchai and dekatai were addressed to Athena,91 at Cyrene all dekatai (no aparche is attested) were dedicated to Apollo, and at Lindos the chief recipient was Athena Lindia. Given the general nature of the divine favour(s) associated with first offerings—usually one’s good fortune and general well‐being—they need not have been addressed to a particular god or divine specialist in a certain sphere (such as Asclepius if healing was concerned), but to the gods as a whole, whom the local patron deity could serve to represent. This applies not only to first offerings, but also to other dedications made to sustain a good relation with the gods in general. As Parker suggests, what individuals had to seek from the gods as a collective could be sought from their city’s chief deity, who served as ‘an accessible local representative of that distant body (of gods)’. This also explains the variation in the chief divine beneficiary of first offerings from (p.162) city to city.92 However, we have an interesting case in the fifth century where Mikythos son of Choiros set up agalmata in Olympia, possibly as a first offering to ‘all the gods and goddesses’ ([θεοῖς πᾶσι]ν καὶ θεαῖς πάσαις). It was rare in the Classical and Page 18 of 41

Private Dedications Hellenistic periods to address a dedication to all the gods in the Greek pantheon;93 this example nevertheless illustrates the idea that good luck and well‐being were thought to depend on all the gods collectively. However, there was nothing that precluded individuals with sufficient means from making dedications in sanctuaries of Panhellenic importance. We have already encountered Rhodopis, who sent iron spits to Delphi using a tithe of her earnings. In the fifth century a family from Metapontum in Italy set up a limestone base with a bronze statue (now lost) as a tithe to Apollo in Delphi, as indicated by the inscription [Ἀπόλλōνι] | [ὁ δεῖνα καὶ . ]|ί̣κε καὶ Ξέν[ο]|ν, Φαύλλο ℎυ|ιοὶ, δεκάταν | Μεταποντῖν|οι (‘[To Apollo, someone and.]ike and Xen[o]n, sons of Phayllos, a dekate, Metapontines’).94 On the sacred island of Delos, Ktesias son of Apollodoros from Tenos dedicated a round marble base simultaneously described as an aparche and a dekate from his work to Osiris (βασιλεῖ Ὀσείριδι | Κτησίας Ἀπολοδώρου | Τήνιος ἀπαρχὴν | ἀπὸ τῆς ἐργασίας δεκάτην). He also dedicated an offering box (not a first offering) in the same sanctuary.95 Also on Delos an individual from Alexandria in Egypt set up two similar small marble bases, each with a bronze statuette on top (now lost), as aparchai to several Egyptian deities in 158/7 BC. One of the two nearly identical inscriptions reads: Σαράπει, Ἴσει, Ἀνούβει, | Ἀπολλώνιος Ἀσκληπιοδώρο[υ] | Ἀλεξανδρεὺς ἀπαρχήν, | ἐπὶ ἱερέως Φιλοκράτου τοῦ Φιλοκράτου Ἁμαξαντέως (‘To Sarapis, (p.163) Isis, Anubis, Apollonios son of Asclepiodoros an Alexandrian (dedicated) an aparche, in the priesthood of Philocrates son of Philocrates son of Hamaxanteus’). This Alexandrian must have been fairly wealthy, as he made two other dedications (not first offerings) on Delos at a slightly later date.96 Delos had a wide clientele: where indicated by their city‐ethnic, other dedicators known to have set up first offerings (all are dekatai) here came from Paros, Mykonos, Amorgos, Corcyra, and Mylasa.97 As well as Delphi and Delos, the sanctuary of Athena at Lindos also received first offerings from Greeks coming from elsewhere. A marble plaque broken on the right edge where the dedicators’ ethnics were inscribed is thus restored: Κῦρος Ἐφέσ[ιος] | Νίκων Μιλ[ήσιος] | Ἕρμων Σο[λεὺς] | Ἀθάναι Λι[νδίαι] | ἀπαρχάν (‘Cyrus the Ephes[ian], Nikon the Mil[esian], Hermon the So[loian], an aparche to Athena Li[ndia]’). We have here an aparche jointly dedicated by three individuals from Ephesus, Miletus, and Soloi (in Cilicia). Soloi was a Lindian colony according to some traditions, but the relationship between the three individuals and the occasion for their offering remain unclear.98 Rhodes lay conveniently in the eastern Aegean, making the sanctuary of Athena at Lindos a focus of ‘pilgrimage’ for travellers passing by. The Lindian Chronicle records two dekatai brought by traders from Crete and Sybaris respectively, but, as discussed above, they are of dubious historicity.99

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Private Dedications While three dedicators jointly dedicated a single aparche at Lindos, in another example three individuals seem to be each contributing a dekate (of unspecified source) for an object to be made collectively, so that the monument apparently comprised three tithes. The inscribed limestone base comes from Pedasa in Caria, perhaps after the fifth century: (p.164) [—ε]ὺς Ἀ[θ]ηναίῃ δεκάτην. Ἡ̣βιά̣δ̣η̣[ς Τ]ηλ[ε]μάχου Μαλιεὺς Ἀθηναίηι δεκάτην [—] Μελά̣[νθου] Γρ • • [•]νεὺς Ἀθηναίηι δ[εκά]‐ [τη]ν τὸ ἥμισυ τοῦ ἀναθήματος· ἐποίησεν Μακεδὼν Διονυσίου Ἡρακλεώτης.100 [—] to Athena a tithe. Hebiade[s] son of [T]el[e]machos of Malis to Athena a tithe [—] son of Mela[nthos] of Gr[…] to Athena as a t[ith]e half of the dedication; Makedon son of Dionysios of Heracleia made it.

The tithe from the last man’s resources, perhaps the most prosperous among the three, constituted half of the monument. The second dedicator was an inhabitant of the region Malis (Μαλιεύς) in Central Greece, but unfortunately the other two persons’ ethnics are not preserved. A cult of Athena is attested in Pedasa.101 One wonders what would motivate someone from mainland Greece to cross the Aegean Sea to set up a dedication in Pedasa, and whether the joint dedicators might have been partners in trade. More individuals might have set up first offerings in distant shrines than can be recovered here, but their place of origin is difficult to identify without their ethnics.102 We would like to know the actual mechanism of making dedications away from one’s local shrine and the occasions on which this was done. While Panhellenic sanctuaries were open to all the Greeks, sanctuaries in other cities would generally seem less accessible to (and less likely to be visited by) non‐ citizens, though the kind and level of restriction probably varied from one local shrine to another. Had these dedicators journeyed to a distant sanctuary especially to set up a first offering or for some other purpose? Did they transport the objects with them or did they have (p.165) the monuments made at or near the shrine? In the case of the aparche jointly dedicated at Lindos, did the three individuals travel together to Rhodes, or might some of them have sent funds to a representative for the aparche to be made on their behalf? Herodotus says that Rhodopis made many iron spits and ‘sent them to Delphi’ (ἀπέπεμπε ἐς Δελφούς), which seems to suggest (if taken literally) that individuals need not have visited distant shrines in person to set up offerings.103 While the actual processes remain largely irrecoverable, what is evident is the appeal of dedicating in a distant, and especially Panhellenic, shrine: the offering would be displayed to a much wider audience and enjoy greater prestige. Apart from merely impressing one’s fellow citizens and other Greeks, would the extra cost Page 20 of 41

Private Dedications and effort expended on setting up a dedication far away from home make it a more pleasing gift to the gods? Despite the potential attractions, however, relatively few individuals could afford the means and the time to make dedications far from home, with the result that Panhellenic sanctuaries were dominated by dedications made collectively by Greek cities, as we shall see in the next chapter.

IV. First offerings and their dedicators: some observations The above analysis shows no substantial difference between dedicatory practices in Attica and other parts of Greece with regard to making first offerings. In both regions dedicators came from a variety of ‘occupational’ backgrounds, and the reasons or occasions for dedication, where indicated, were very similar. Unlike first‐fruits of crops and foodstuffs (Chapters 3 and 4) offered to the gods on a more or less regular basis, the vast majority of first offerings in this chapter were ad-hoc dedications not governed by particular times or seasons. Rather they were usually motivated by occasions considered by the dedicator as worthy of commemoration or thanksgiving, be it a windfall, an agonistic victory, other awards of honour, a profitable voyage, a successful career, manumission, or retirement. To apply Godelier’s idea of ‘debt’, every time an individual came off well in an (p.166) enterprise, he may be thought to have owed an ‘occasional’ debt to the gods, and offering an aparche or dekate was a way of settling it in part. As was discussed in Chapter 2, we cannot reduce the bringing of aparchai and dekatai (or indeed any kind of gift to the gods) to any single reason, but the general trend that can be observed is that first offerings were retrospective in nature. Their strong tendency to be made after certain successes or benefits were obtained makes them akin to ‘good news offerings’ (εὐαγγέλια) or ‘thank‐ offerings’ (χαριστήρια). Some of them look back not to a particular event but to a successful life or career as a whole. Retirement offerings probably served, inter alia, to mark the end of a career, on the one hand, and to thank the gods for prosperity enjoyed in life, on the other. Set up presumably after a period of working and earning, they show that there was nothing that prohibited the Greeks from using some of the goods or profits received before rendering a portion to the gods.104 These are part offerings, but not strictly ‘first part offerings’, with a much weakened sense of ‘preliminary’ and ‘firstness’. The frequency with which first offerings were made probably depended on individuals’ circumstances, their means, and the nature of the objects. Our evidence suggests the possibility that more than one first offering could be made by the same individual in his/her lifetime. The Onesimos we met earlier dedicated seven marble basins and a pillar monument, each of which was described as an aparche. Nevertheless, we do not know if the eight objects were dedicated on one or eight different occasions, and if the former, they might constitute one aparche (or two aparchai if the seven basins were offered together but separately from the pillar). The same uncertainty applies to Apollonios the Alexandrian, who set up two similar marble bases on Delos, each Page 21 of 41

Private Dedications supporting a bronze statuette and each described as an aparche, in addition to two other non‐aparchai dedications.105 The cases of Onesimos and Apollonios are perhaps unusual, as ordinary individuals are unlikely to have dedicated on the same scale. Apart from these two individuals, if the woman Glyke who dedicated a (p.167) bronze mirror handle as a dekate in c.480 was the same Glyke who dedicated a bronze base as a dekate in the same period, this would be another possible example of repeated dedications of first offerings.106 Some individuals probably dedicated a first offering as well as other unspecified offerings.107 Most remarkable of all is Onesagoras, son of Philounios, who presented to a Nymph some 270 items of inscribed pottery in the Nymphaeum at Kafizin in Cyprus in the last quarter of the third century BC. The incised inscriptions repeatedly describe him as δεκατηφόρος (‘tithe‐receiving’ or ‘tithe‐ paying’). If it is correct to understand these vessels as religious tithes of some sort, he would be the most frequent bringer of first offerings and the intensity of his piety would make him comparable to one who was ‘seized by the nymph’ (νυμφόληπτος).108 We have seen how first offerings tend to be associated with certain success or benefits, but the same situations could also motivate offerings of kinds other than aparchai and dekatai. On the Athenian acropolis are dedications commemorating victories of various kinds, but these are not necessarily termed first offerings. Epigrams provide us with various retirement offerings not called first offerings.109 The examples are too numerous to be enumerated here, but these instances suffice to show that, on any given occasion, individuals were free to choose what kind of offering to make and what word to use in their dedicatory inscription, be it aparche, dekate, anathema, mnema, doron, hieron, or later charisterion, and it is often obscure to us how they decided on the naming of a gift. Despite some general identifiable trends, the lack of any strict correlation between the dedicatory context and the kind of offering can sometimes blur the distinction between first offerings and other gifts to the gods. We have, for example, a fifth‐century acropolis dedication described as a memorial (μνῆμα) ‘of prospering [works]’ ([ἔργο]ν̣ θαλόντον); the partitive (p.168) genitive [ἔργο]ν̣ θαλόντον makes it very similar to a first offering.110 Likewise, a fifth‐ century bronze strigil dedicated to Zeus at Olympia is inscribed: [τέν]δ̣ε Δίκον Διὶ δõρον ἀπ᾽ [ἐργασί]ας / ἀνέθεκεν αὐτὸς ποιέ̣[σ]α̣ς̣……/ ε.ει σοφίαν (‘Dikon dedicated [th]is to Zeus as a gift from [his work], having ma[d]e it himself…… skill’).111 Here δõρον ἀπ᾽ [ἐργασί]ας is used and not ἀπαρχὴ ἀπ᾽ [ἐργασί]ας, perhaps owing to metrical convenience. Another fragmentary verse inscription is restored to read [–∪∪– ἀνέθεκεν ἀπὸ κ]τ̣εάν[ον] [τόδ᾽ ἄγαλμα] / [ℎαυτõ καὶ γενεᾶς μνεμ᾽ ἐπι]γ̣ιγνο[μένοις] (‘…. [dedicated this agalma from his po]ssess[ions], [a memorial of himself and his race for p]oster[ity]’).112 If the supplement [ἀπὸ κ]τ̣εάν[ον] may be relied upon, this is akin to the first offering of one’s possessions which we saw earlier, except that the term aparche or dekate is not used. Here we return to the issue discussed in the Introduction: the Page 22 of 41

Private Dedications identification of first offerings based on the actual appearance of the word aparche, dekate, and the like in the sources is a relatively secure but admittedly not entirely satisfactory criterion; dedications intended as first offerings but not described explicitly as such, or inscribed and yet without the word preserved, can easily elude us. The prominence of potters/painters in the available evidence remains to be considered. We have already seen Raubitschek’s tendency to identify dedicators with known potters/painters based on often tenuous links, with the result that as many as twenty‐nine potters’ dedications were identified in his Dedications from the Athenian Acropolis (1949.113 Nevertheless, even if we reject most of his identifications as uncertain, we are still left with at least five dedicators who were almost certainly potters, three of whom brought first offerings.114 This makes potters the most prominent group, outnumbering those of other ‘occupations’ among dedicators of first offerings on the acropolis. The cult of Athena Ergane, patroness of art and craft, on the acropolis might have attracted dedications from craftsmen and craftswomen to the goddess, even if not all of them mention the title Ergane. Athena’s association with technical skills and crafts (μῆτις), a divine function apparently not shared by other major gods at Athens, made her an appropriate object of worship for artisans. (p.169) It was in her capacity as a goddess of crafts that the Athenian festival the Chalkeia was celebrated, perhaps mainly by craftsmen, on the last day of the month Pyanepsion.115 First offerings from potters may reflect their attempts to cultivate the goddess’s favour for success in their trade. Athena’s protective influence against potential disasters in pottery production is alluded to in a poem that has come down to us from the Vita Homeri attributed to Herodotus. It begins by invoking Athena to assist in the firing of pots so that they may be successfully fired and sold for a good profit, but the poet goes on to call upon a list of daimones who could cause the pots to break in the kilns and make the potters wail should they be deceitful.116 The firing of vessels was apparently the most precarious part of the production process and therefore most in need of divine protection. Many clay plaques discovered at the sanctuary of Poseidon and Amphitrite at Penteskouphia, near the potters’ quarters in Corinth, depict potters working in dangerous conditions: they are represented as stoking up the fire or climbing up the kiln to close the vent hole when the fire is flaring. These plaques were probably intended to seek divine protection for the firing process, and/or to express thanks for protection received.117 One piece of Socrates’ advice, as we have seen in Chapter 3, is that one should propitiate the gods in matters of agriculture just as in war. But in light of what we see here, we may add that it was no less important for craftsmen to appeal to the gods than for farmers and soldiers. As Solon’s poetry reminds us, there is risk and danger in every undertaking—be it trading, farming, craftwork, poetry, divination, or medical practice—and no one knows how a matter will end (p.170) once begun.118 The Page 23 of 41

Private Dedications risk in different kinds of trade varied only in degree, and divine assistance was perhaps felt to be indispensable by individuals in all walks of life. Although more of them can be identified in the sources, this does not mean that more potters dedicated first offerings than individuals in other trades did in actual practice. In his article on the organization of production in Athenian society, Harris collects from epigraphic and literary sources as many as 170 ‘occupations’ at Athens between 500 and 250 BC. But as far as dedicators of first offerings are concerned (in both Attica and elsewhere), only eight individuals, in five different kinds of work, identified their trade in their dedicatory inscriptions.119 At the same time remarkably few dedicators identified themselves as farmers (γεωργοί), despite the agrarian nature of Greek societies. This is supported by Harris, who observes that ‘of the roughly 170 occupations relatively few are in agriculture and animal husbandry’.120 Farmers probably simply did not feel the need to categorize themselves as such in societies where most people worked the land. Therefore we must not be distracted by the few instances of first offerings that state the individuals’ ‘occupations’. While it may seem intriguing to find such dedications, it is easy to overestimate their significance and neglect the rest.121 With such cautions in mind, let us look at the explanations offered by some scholars for the prominence of artisans on the Athenian acropolis. Raubitschek linked the phenomenon to social and political developments at Athens, interpreting craftsmen’s dedications (not first offerings specifically) as follows: The many dedications erected by artisans indicate the great importance of the industry, and especially pottery, at Athens. It is noteworthy that all these dedications are later than 525 B.C, and most of them can be dated after 510 B.C. It is, therefore, safe to assume that the Athenian βάναυσοι, who became wealthy in the course of the second half of the (p.171) sixth century, gained social standing as well when the democracy was established.122 The social status of artisans and the prosperity of their trade in the Archaic and Classical periods remains a controversial and complex issue. While some scholars think that they were socially and economically insignificant, others argue for them being held in increased esteem and of greater importance in Classical Athens.123 All three of the first offerings made by the potters/painters (Nearchos, Euphronios, Peikon) we encountered consist of marble korai of various sizes, which were undoubtedly expensive monuments.124 Several of the potters/painters (Nearchos, Euphronios, Andokides,125 and perhaps Onesimos) who made dedications—that is, if the identifications between the dedicator and the potter/painter of the same name are (p.172) correct—are said to have been well‐known artisans and/or owners of a prosperous workshop, yet the argument risks being circular, as some scholars may have taken the scale of the dedication Page 24 of 41

Private Dedications as an indication of how prosperous the dedicator’s trade was.126 More recently, Stissi has argued that the cost of statue dedications by potters was very likely to have exceeded even an extremely profitable order or their best year’s income, so that a period of successful working, earning, and saving was probably required before a statue could be set up to mark the end of a potter’s career.127 However that may be, some of the elaborate dedications from artisans on the Athenian acropolis suggest that at least some of them had ample resources. Nevertheless, individual potters’ prosperity may not be typical of artisan trade as a whole; the few elaborate sculptural dedications surely cannot be taken as a sufficient indicator that all potters enjoyed financial and social success. We should not allow the marble bases to obscure the possibility raised earlier that smaller and less costly objects (such as items of pottery) might also have been dedicated by craftsmen. Influenced perhaps by the assumption that members of the lower socio‐economic groups could not have set up expensive monuments, some scholars are inclined to think that their dedicators must have been exceptionally well‐off individuals or members of a prosperous trade. Smikythe’s dekate (a marble basin on a pedestal base) seems to involve such extraordinary expenditure for a washerwoman that Vickers takes the textile industry at Athens to have been much more prosperous than we tend to think.128 Another marble dedication, an aparche of a catch presumably from a fisherman, is explained by Raubitschek as follows: the dedicator ([Nau?]lochos) need not necessarily have been a poor fisherman who was once in his life successful.… It is quite conceivable that the dedicator, if he was a fisherman at all, was doing business on a (p. 173) larger scale. The same should be said of most of the dedications of people who mention their occupation; they must have been very prosperous in their business to afford a dedication on the acropolis, and they may have mentioned their business in the inscription as a kind of advertisement.129 While we cannot rule out the possibility of an exceptionally successful washerwoman or fisherman, Vickers’ and Raubitschek’s contentions originate from attempts to resolve the apparent incompatibility between an expensive dedication and an ordinary individual in the lower social classes. It seems to me equally possible, if not more likely, that this Smikythe was a menial worker of modest means rather than a wealthy member of the textile trade, and that [Nau?]lochos was an ordinary fisherman,130 considering that other banausoi abounded among dedicators on the Athenian acropolis: apart from the ones we have already met, we also find a female bread‐seller, a workman, a tanner, a fuller, and several clothes‐washers.131

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Private Dedications In view of other occupations attested on the acropolis, dedicators of expensive first offerings need not have been exceptionally well‐off or successful individuals. Nothing prevented average individuals from offering an aparche or a dekate if they wished and had accumulated enough earnings to do so. Unfortunately, we know little about the price of different kinds of marble monuments and so cannot estimate the dedicators’ resources or the period of working and saving required for the dedication of a particular type of monument.132 (p.174) Marble dedications must have involved substantial sums and long periods of saving by ordinary individuals of little distinction and modest means. What would provide a sufficient motivation for humble individuals, such as an ordinary washerwoman and an average fisherman, to expend a large sum on a first offering? Apart from the desire for self‐advertisement suggested by Raubitschek, doubtless these individuals felt that they had depended on, and owed their livelihoods to, the gods in one way or another. Yet the question of the extent to which these dedications were a means of self‐display or an expression of piety remains unanswerable. Instead of the increased social status or class consciousness of artisans, or the appropriation of aristocratic self‐expression by the lower socio‐economic groups, dedications that indicate the bringers’ ‘occupation’ are more appropriately understood in terms of the individuals’ self‐perception of their work and offerings. The ancient Greeks have left us with little direct evidence concerning their attitude to their trade. Individuals’ sense of identity with their work, explicit in only a handful of personal statements (such as the inscriptions of Melinna the craftswoman and Phaeinos the merchant seen earlier), is implicit in the ‘occupational’ designations engraved on their offerings. In inscribing their name and ‘profession’, individuals must have prided themselves on their techne and the success of their trade, regardless of what others might think of the status of their work. Although orations in the Athenian assembly and law courts may convey the impression that manual labour and ‘banausic occupations’ were scorned at Athens, such rhetoric cannot be taken as a faithful representation of popular attitudes to these activities.133 Ancient philosophers’ prejudice against manual labour,134 on the other hand, was based on regarding it as an obstacle to the well-being of the mind or soul, and not so much on the character of the work itself. However, attitudes to work seem to have taken on a somewhat different tone once we enter the religious sphere: a washerwoman and a fuller could proudly declare their trade, as if the value of their (p.175) work was redefined in a dedicatory context. Dedicatory practices provided a channel in which individuals of different backgrounds and status could express their piety to the gods and pride in their work without being frowned upon. Despite Isaeus’ attempt to present aparchai‐dedication as an overtly aristocratic practice,135 it was not social status per se that determined who would bring an offering of any kind and value. The salient point about the religious custom is that individuals, irrespective of their gender, trade, and social standing, could offer something of Page 26 of 41

Private Dedications their own to the gods, so that everyone could potentially engage in the practice at some level. Notes:

(1) Isae. 5.42. (2) Souvinou‐Inwood (1990), with clarification of her position in Parker (2011), 57–61 (at 58 n. 57 are bibliographical references to scholarly criticism). (3) The (under‐)treatment of personal piety in existing scholarship is summarized in an extensive footnote in Versnel (2011), 121–2 n. 355. (4) This figure is based on the survival of part or the whole of the words in the inscriptions or the supplements provided in the corpora. For the sole purpose of statistics, I have accepted supplemented texts on the ground that the supplements may often be right. Where a joint dedication from two individuals designates an aparche and a dekate (IG I3 644) or two aparchai (IG I3 695), it is counted as two instances of first offerings. However, where an offering is simultaneously described as an aparche and a dekate interchangeably (on which see Chapter 1, Section III), it is considered as one first offering: e.g. IG I3 862, Lindos II nos 2.C.76–8, 44 (by supplement), IG XI.4 1248. (5) Attica: eighty aparchai, sixty‐four dekatai, and one apargma. Some 422 private dedications from fifth‐century Attica are recorded in IG I3 526–947. (6) Cyrene: all fifty‐eight first offerings attested in Cyrene are dekatai: SEG IX 76–8 (76–7 are military tithes), 80, 83–4, 87–8, 100, 303–4, 307, 309–12, 314–17, Suppl. epigr. ciren. (in ASAA NS. 23–4 (1961–2), 219–375), nos 35–41, 49(3), 133–5, 137–42, 151, 152a, b, d, g, 248a, 249–52, SEG XXXVIII 1870, XLIV 1541, nos 6, 7, 8. Dedications of vases are collected (with newly published items) in Maffre (2007) (SEG LVII 2002). (7) Rhodes: some fifty‐five first offerings, including seventeen aparchai, thirty‐ five dekatai (I have tentatively counted Lindos II, no. 41, as three first offering for the purpose of statistics; but see complications in Chapter 1, n. 110), two apargmata, and one akrothinion. But more first offerings may be present among the some 200 inscribed pottery fragments discovered in the temple of Athena at Ialysus on Rhodes, which remain unpublished. (8) Roman dedications: about a dozen Latin inscriptions from the Republican period mention decumae (tithes) dedicated by individuals mainly to Hercules (and rarely Apollo) in different parts of Italy. E.g. AÉpigr (2000), nos 283, 289, CIL I2 632, 1482, 1531, 1698, 1805, 2645, 3284, VI 29, IX 4071a, X 3956. The practice is also alluded to in e.g. Plaut. Bacch. 666, Mostell. 984, Stich. 233, 386, 395, Truc. 562, Plut. Quaest. Rom. 267e–f, Diod. Sic. 4.21.3–6. Discussed in Liebenam (1901), Bayet (1926), 326–9, 459–61, Latte (1960), 215–16. Gallic Page 27 of 41

Private Dedications dedications: a dossier of fourteen inscriptions in Gallo‐Greek dated to the second and the first centuries BC contains the formula ΔΕΔΕΒΡΑΤΟΥΔΕΚΑΝΤΕΝ (or similar), which may be translated loosely as ‘someone dedicated a tithe in gratitude/on account of favour’. Made of inexpensive local stone, these objects were dedicated mainly to local Celtic deities (where the recipient is stated). See RIG I G‐27–8, 64–6, 148, 183–4, 202–6, 214; collected and discussed (with further bibliography on the disputed linguistic aspects) in Mullen (2008), 251– 60, (2011), 233–9, (2013), 189–218. (9) I use the terms ‘occupation’ and ‘occupational designation’ for want of more satisfactory words but with reservations, as these modern categories do not correspond exactly to ancient conceptions of work. On the differences between ancient and modern notions of ‘work’, see Vernant (1983c [1965]). (10) These are IG I3 628 (Nearchos), 633 (Peikon), 824 (Euphronios). There is a fourth acropolis dedication IG I3 620 (not a first offering) inscribed with the word κεραμεύς ([Μ]νεσιάδες κεραμεύς με καὶ Ἀνδοκίδες ἀνέθεκεν); the word order seems to suggest that only Mnesiades is a potter, whereas his joint dedicator Andokides has been identified as a potter in the late sixth century by prosopographic links (ARV2, 1–6). On potters’ dedications in general, see Beazley (1944), esp. 21–5. (11) Cf. Vickers (1985), 124–5, Gill and Vickers (1990), 7–8, who argue that κεραμεύς designates deme (Kerameis) and not trade. However, the use of demotics was only officially encouraged after Cleisthenes’ reforms in 508 BC, and even in the half‐century afterwards deme names were uncommon in dedicatory inscriptions (as demonstrated recently by Keesling (2009) ). It would be a striking coincidence if considerably more people from only one Attic deme identified themselves by their demotic. The correspondences between these dedicators’ names and known potters further increase the likelihood that κεραμεύς means ‘potter’. See also criticisms in Johnston (1987), 135–6, and Wagner (2000). (12) IG I3 628, DAA no. 197. The restoration [ℎο κεραμε]ύς, now in IG I3, was considered almost certain by Beazley (1944), 21, and Raubitschek in DAA no. 197; cf. Johnston (1987), 135. Keesling (2003), 58, considers [ℎο κεραμε]ύς plausible but allows for alternative restorations. (13) Acr. no. 681; Dickins et al. (1912–21), vol. 1, 228, Payne and Young (1950), pls 51–3, 124.5, Holtzmann (2003), 62, Franssen (2011), 226–30, with pl. 6. The association between the kore and the base is accepted by e.g. Richter (1937), 162, Raubitschek (1939), 711, Keesling (2003), 56–9, 213; cf. Payne and Young (1950), 31–2 n. 2.

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Private Dedications (14) Raubitschek in DAA no. 197, p. 233; but doubts are expressed by Beazley (1944), 21, Johnston (1987), 135, Gill and Vickers (1990), 7. On the potter/ painter Nearchos’ works, see ABV2, 82–3, Boardman (1974), 35, Immerwahr (1990), 26–8. (15) E.g. Beazley (1944), 21, Webster (1972), 10, Keesling (2003), 58. (16) LGPN II s.v. Νέαρχος records only two individuals with this name in the sixth century; the editors leave it open that Nearchos (1) (potter/painter) and Nearchos (2) (dedicator in IG I3 628) might or might not be the same person. (17) IG I3 824 A (fragment B is too fragmentary to be cited), DAA no. 225. (18) On the works of the potter/painter Euphronios, see ARV2, 13–19, with addenda in Beazley (1989), 404, Boardman (1975b), 32–3, Pasquier and Denoyelle (eds) (1990), Denoyelle (1992), Robertson (1992), 43–50. LGPN II s.v. Εὐφρόνιος (2) identifies the dedicator in IG I3 824 with the known potter/painter in ARV2, 13–19. (19) DAA no. 225, p. 258; followed by Wagner (2000), 384. (20) Maxmin (1974), 178–80; cf. Williams (1990), esp. 34–6. Some scholars see in hygieia an epithet of Athena, and take Euphronios’ dedication as one of the earliest attestations of the cult of Athena Hygieia at Athens: e.g. Aleshire (1989), 12 with n. 1, Shapiro (1993), 125, cf. Stafford (2000), 151. (21) IG I3 633, DAA no. 44. LGPN II, s.v. Πείκων (1). (22) Seven basins: IG I3 926–32, DAA nos 349–53, 357–8. Pillar monument: IG I3 699A–B, DAA no. 217, Löhr (2000), 37–8, no. 40, Keesling (2005), 401–3. The fact that four‐barred sigma is used in Theodoros’ inscription, and three‐barred sigma in his father’s, may suggest that the inscriptions were carved at different dates by different hands. (23) Vase-painter Onesimos: LGPN II, s.v. Ὀνήσιμος (3); Robertson (1992), 43–50, 117–18. LGPN II does not identify the dedicator Ὀνήσιμος (2) with the vasepainter Ὀνήσιμος (3). Onesimos is one of the most frequently attested male Greek names, with 157 recorded instances in all periods in LGPN II (and five more in the addenda LGPN II A (2007) published online), and fifteen foreign residents at Athens recorded in Osborne and Byrne (1996). (24) DAA, pp. 457–8, 465. I list here only those concerned with first offerings and insecurely associated with potters: IG I3 631 (= DAA no. 48), 647 (= DAA no. 290), 695 (= DAA no. 210), 696 (= DAA no. 291), 766 (= DAA no. 224), 779 (= DAA no. 184). Many of Raubitschek’s identifications are rejected in Keesling (2003), 72–3, and (2005), 415 ff.

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Private Dedications (25) IG I3 764, DAA no. 70, Acr. no. 1332; Dickins et al. (1912–21), vol. 1, 272, Payne and Young (1950), pls 129–30, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 286, no. 64. Fragments b and c (Agora I 4571, EM 6250) bearing the word dekate, identified by Raubitschek (1942) as belonging to this relief and accepted by IG I3 764, have not been physically joined with the relief on display in the Acropolis Museum. The artist’s signature, restored by Raubitschek (1942) as Ἔν̣[δοιος ἐποίεσ]εν, is accepted in IG I3 764 but disputed by Viviers (1992), 90–6. (26) Wagner (2000), 385, and Keesling (2003), 73 (with bibliography), suggest that perhaps a metal‐worker rather than a potter is depicted. (27) Acr. no. 577; Dickins et al. (1912–21), vol. 1, 117, no. 577, Mitropoulou (1977), 30–1 and no. 29, fig 48. Brouskare (1974) seems to have put the wrong object under this number. Interpretation: Perdrizet (1903), 260–1, followed by Van Straten (1981), 93, and (1993), 250. (28) IG I3 766, DAA no. 224, CEG 230. Vernant (1983c [1965]), 248–53, suggested that the Greek word τέχνη presupposes specialized knowledge and apprenticeship including craftwork but excluding agriculture. (29) Other examples (not specified as first offerings): e.g. SEG XXV 463 = Lazzarini (1976), no. 819 (a bronze strigil, in n. 111 below), Rouse (1902), 60–3. (30) IG II2 4334, CEG 774, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 278, no. 53. (31) At least five first offerings were dedicated to Athena Ergane: IG II2 2939 (= 4339), 4318, 4334, Agora XVIII V578 (different supplement in SEG XXV 220: [εὐ]χήν instead of [ἀπαρ]χήν), V579; but only IG II2 4334 has some indication of the dedicator’s connection to craft. A family member (son or brother, depending on the dating) of the dedicator in Agora XVIII V579 also brought a dedication (IG II2 4329, not first offering) to Athena Ergane. Perhaps because of the epithet Ergane, both family members (in Agora XVIII V579 and IG II2 4329) are taken to be metal‐workers of some sort by Meritt (1940), 58–9, no. 7 and Geagan in Agora XVIII V579, but the identification remains uncertain. (32) Ar. Thesm. 446–58. On women’s labour in Classical Athens, see Brock (1994). (33) E.g. Anth. Pal. 6.4, 25–30, 90, 95, 104, 289 (these are not first offerings). A literary example is Eur. Erechtheus fr. 369 Kannicht. On retirement offerings, see also Rouse (1902), 70–4, Veyne (1983), 293. (34) IG I3 794, DAA no. 380 and p. 465; Ridgway (1987), 402, Kron (1996), 162–3, 165, Kaltsas and Shapiro (2008), 51, no. 10. On washerwomen as dedicators, see e.g. IG II2 2934 (not a first offering, jointly dedicated by a group of clothes‐

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Private Dedications cleaners), McClees (1920), 16–17. Two other women of unknown background also dedicated basins of island marble as aparchai: IG I3 921, 934. (35) IG I3 700, DAA no. 93. Dillon (2001), 15, entertains the possibility that they might be the same person; but LGPN II s.v. Σμικύθη does not identify them as such. (36) IG I3 800, DAA no. 191, and possibly IG I3 735, DAA no. 283. (37) IG I3 828, DAA no. 229 (Raubitschek argued that ἄγρα need not have consisted of fishes), CEG 266, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 277–8, no. 42. Cf. Paus. 5.27.9, 10.9.3–4: Corcyra dedicated a bronze bull in Delphi and another one in Olympia as a dekate of a large catch of tunnies (ἡ δεκάτη τῆς ἄγρας). See also Gow–Page, GP I, 422, II, 452, no. 2, Anth. Pal. 6.196: an epigram (most probably a literary exercise) attributed to Statilius Flaccus records a crab dedicated by a fisherman to Pan as ἀπαρχὴ ἄγρας; Page, FGE, Anonymous Epigrams no. 21, Anth. Pal. 10.9: Priapus, a patron deity of fishermen, asks worshippers to make a small first offering (βαιὸν ἀπαρχόμενοι) from a big catch. (38) IG I3 616, DAA no. 49; IG I3 905, DAA no. 342. (39) IG I3 872, DAA no. 218, CEG 275, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 278, no. 43; cf. IG I3 458a. 11. This view was mentioned (without giving its source) by Raubitschek, who endorsed it on the tenuous ground that the dedicator ‘appears to have been comparatively wealthy’. LGPN II takes them as two different persons, Menandros (4) and Menandros (30). (40) IG I3 883, DAA no. 132. There are difficult chronological problems in associating this inscribed base with the statue of Dieitrephes described in Paus. 1.23.3; the precise relation between this dedicator and the known strategos remains uncertain. Discussed in Keesling (2003), 195 n. 88 (with bibliography). (41) IG I3 542. Athletes’ social status in ancient Greece is disputed, see e.g. Isoc. 16.32–4, Young (1984), cf. Kyle (1993). (42) Merchant: SEG XXVIII 838 (= McCabe, Halikarnassos Inscriptions, no. 121). Courtesan: Hdt. 2.135. Telchines: Lindos II, no. 2.B.9–14; Higbie (2003), 68–70; cf. Paus.1.27.1: Pausanias reports on a stool (not as a first offering) dedicated by Daedalus, who was also a legendary craftsman. Soldiers: e.g. IG VII 37, Lindos II, nos 88, 291, I.Pergamon nos 62a, 165, JHS 12 (1891), 263–4, no. 49. Farmer/ goat‐keeper: SEG XXVI 451, discussed in Jameson, Runnels, and Van Andel (1994), 604 (= SEG XLVII 346). Sacrificial slaughter: IGASMG IV no. 15. Ίεροποιός: Lindos II no. 72, identified by prosopography with the individual in Tit. Cam. no. 5.II.7, no. 14.4 = no. 14bis.4; LGPN II s.v. Τελέσων (52).

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Private Dedications (43) Fisherman: Gow–Page, GP I, 422, II, 452, no. 2, Anth. Pal. 6.196 (see n. 37 above). Weavers: Gow–Page, HE I, 120, II, 350–2, no. 41, Anth. Pal. 6.288; Gow– Page, HE I, 148, II, 426–7, no. 2, Anth. Pal. 6.285. (44) SEG XXVIII 838 (= McCabe, Halikarnassos Inscriptions, no. 121). Cf. IG IX.1 131: ἐξ ὁσίων ἔργων ἀκροθίν̣[ιον] (‘akrothin[ion] from pious work’). Alternatively, the phrase [ἐ]ξ ὁσίων ὅσιος ἀνήρ may be understood as ‘a pious man (descended) from pious ancestors’; see parallels in Bernabé (2005), Orphic fr. 488, line 1 (= Graf and Johnston (2007), 12–13, 5 Thurii 3). On Aphrodite’s association with the sea, see Pirenne‐Delforge (1994), esp. 433–9, Parker (2002), 146–52, Demetriou (2010). (45) Hdt. 2.135.1–4, Athenaeus 13.596c; Asheri, Lloyd, and Corcella (2007), 338. Discussed in Jeffery (1990), LSAG2, 102–3, 123–4, no. 7, pl. 12.7, Kurke (1999), 220–4, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 315, no. 208. Other prostitutes’ dedications (not first offerings): e.g. Anth. Pal. 6.1, 208. Iron spits dedicated elsewhere: e.g. Jeffery (1990), LSAG2, 123–4, Strom (1992), Von Reden (1997), 173–4. Inscription: Mastrokostas (1953), 635–42, accepted by Jeffery (1990), LSAG2, 102–3, Keesling (2006), 61–3. (46) IG XIV 643, SGDI II no. 1653, IGASMG IV no. 15, BM catalogue no. 252; Roberts and Gardner (1887–1905), part i, no. 306, Callaway (1950), 49–50, Guarducci (1968–9), 47–51 (mid‐sixth century, at 51 she noted that this is the earliest epigraphic attestation of the word ἄρταμος), Lazzarini (1976), no. 701, Jeffery (1990), LSAG2, 253, 260, no. 8, pl. 50 (c.525–500?), Pugliese Carratelli (1996), 496, 690 no. 131, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 310, no. 181. (47) ‘Hera in the plain’: Guarducci (1968–9), 49, thought that the expression must have been intended to distinguish this Hera from another Hera whose sanctuary was higher up on a hill. Foce del Sele: see Van Keuren (1989), 23–44. (48) Tools used by sacrificial slaughterers are discussed briefly in Robert (1978b), 344. (49) Sybaris as an Achaean colony: Arist. Pol. 5.2.10, 1303a, Dunbabin (1948), 355 ff., Jeffery (1990), LSAG2, 251–2. An ‘imported cult’: A. Johnston’s lecture on epigraphical habits in Archaic Greece, 24 June 2009, the British School at Athens. (50) IG IV2.1 123.21–9 (iama 47), SEG XLII 293, with discussions in Dillon (1994), 253, 260, and Versnel (2011), 409–10. It is unclear why a fish‐carrier should choose Asclepius as the divine recipient. Dillon (1994), 253, thinks that the fish‐ carrier might have incubated in the Asclepium, vowed a dekate, and been cured of a certain illness. However, the difficulty is that we have no parallel of an aparche or dekate associated with healing, when deliverance from illness was one of the most common reasons for bringing offerings (but not gifts of the Page 32 of 41

Private Dedications aparche or dekate type, see below). Alternatively, might he have vowed a dekate to gain favour with the god of healing (without an illness cured by Asclepius), or might he have been an Epidaurian, who would naturally dedicate to the principal local deity? As Dillon and Versnel recognize, the Epidaurian iamata are not necessarily records of cures performed; many of them emphasize not so much the healing act but the arete and dunamis of the god in sharp contrast to human frailty. Here the miracle seems to relate to the condition of the fish (see n. 51 below) and not human health. (51) This line of the text is corrupt and its precise meaning was disputed by Peek (1963) and Robert in BE (1964), no. 180. The general sense is perhaps that something extraordinary happened to his fish that could only be put right by divine intervention. (52) Gow–Page, HE I, 120, II, 350–2, no. 41, Anth. Pal. 6.288. (53) Some other epigrams (not on first offerings) present similar problems: e.g. Anth. Pal. 6.13, 41, 118, 152; Gow (1960), 92. Cf. the weavers in Gow–Page, HE I, 121, II, 352–3, no. 42, Anth. Pal. 6.289, who dedicated their implements when they gave up weaving. (54) See below on the nature of vows associated with first offerings. Other anomalies in this epigram, such as the dedication of one’s tools when they were still needed, make it likely that this was a literary exercise and not a genuine dedication. (55) Berti (2008), 298, Fabiani (2009), 66–71, SEG LVIII 1211. On other andrones as dedications, see e.g. I.Labraunda, nos 14–15 (with further references and bibliography), Hornblower (1982), 285. (56) For fuller discussions of the sources and Eupolemos’ career, see e.g. Billows (1989) (181–2 on coins, with further bibliography), Gregory (1995), 24–7, Descat (1998), Fabiani (2009) (62–5 summarizes earlier scholarship). (57) IG I3 730, DAA no. 28, CEG 251, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 277, no. 40. (58) ἀργύριον: IG I3 698; χρήματα: IG I3 779, IG II2 3846, 4904; κτέανον: IG I3 647, 730, IG II2 4334; ἔργον: IG I2 730 (a vase excluded in IG I3), I3 608 (supplemented), 628, 695; πόνος: IG II2 4587; τέχνη: IG I3 766, IG II2 4320 (supplemented). (59) IG I3 542, NM 6614; Niemeyer (1964), 26–7, tab. 21. On commemoration of athletic victories by statues, see Smith (2007), but what we have here is a bronze statuette, not a life‐size victor statue. (60) Prizes in Panhellenic games: Plut. Sol. 23.3, Diog. Laert. 1.55; Kyle (1996), Themelis (2007), Fisher (2009), 529. Page 33 of 41

Private Dedications (61) IG II2 2939 (= 4339); Parker (2004a), 275. Organe is a variant of Ergane. (62) IG II2 1553 I.18–20. Dossier: IG II2 1553–78, SEG XVIII 36, XXI 561, XXV 178, XXV 180, XLIV 68, XLVI 180; conveniently collected in Meyer (2010), 81–144, nos 1–33. Traditional views are summarized in Meyer (2010), 17–28. (63) E.g. athletic victory, military victory (see Chapter 6). (64) Lindos II no. 2.B.11–12, SEG XXXIV 1189 (= McCabe, Miletus Inscriptions, no. 243), SEG XXVIII 838 (= McCabe, Halikarnassos Inscriptions, no. 121), IGASMG IV no. 15, IG IX.1 131, Tit. Cal. no. 100, IG XI.4 1248, I.Délos no. 1417.A.II.102–3. (65) Ross ap. Segre in Tit. Cal. no. 100. LGPN I, s.v. Θρασυμήδης (6), s.v. Νικίας (110). LSJ s.v. ἐργάζομαι. On vow fulfilment for a family member, see also IG I3 735, DAA no. 283 (a dekate made by an Athenian to discharge his child’s vow). (66) Ertuğrul and Malay (2010), lines 14–15 (first century AD). (67) IGASMG IV no. 2. I take ἀϝέθλον as a genitive plural, but it can also be an accusative singular. It is unclear what the initial letters Δο mean. Hornblower (2007), 334: ‘they are thought not to be Homeric δῶ = δῶμα or δῶρον = gift, but to refer to a phratry or other kinship group.’ ‘Equal in length and breadth’: scholars’ interpretations are summarized with bibliography in BE (1967), no. 697, Young (1984), 131, and Hornblower (2007), 333–4. (68) On rewards in athletic games, see Young (1984), 115–33, Slater and Summa (2006), 292–8, Fisher (2009), 529–31. (69) TAM II, no. 1184. (70) Aretos’ dedication: Lindos II, no. 2.B.105–6, Löhr (2000), 8–9, no. 2. The vessel was reused, as lines 103–4 mention another inscription on its lips, referring to the tradition of the expeditions against Thebes. Amphinomos’ dedication: Lindos II, no. 2.C.15–20, Löhr (2000), 13–14, no. 8. A tradition in Strabo 6.1.14, 264 says that Sybaris was colonized by Rhodes; but Sybaris is also said to be an Achaean colony in Arist. Pol. 5.2.10, 1303a, Dunbabin (1948), 355 ff., Jeffery (1990), LSAG2, 251–2. (71) Higbie (2003), 107. On commerce between Rhodes and Sicily, see Dunbabin (1948), 226–40. (72) Hdt. 4.152. (73) Forrest (1963), 54, no. 3, SEG XXII 509. I take τῶν Ἀρίστ̣ωνος as a partitive genitive qualifying δεκάτην, indicating the source from which the tithe was taken (as is common with dedicatory inscriptions concerning first offerings). Cf. Page 34 of 41

Private Dedications Forrest (1963), 54, no. 3, who thought that ‘strictly speaking τῶν Ἀρίστ̣ωνος might be construed with δεκάτην, ἐξελεύθερος or Φιλῆς’, envisaging the following three possibilities: ‘a tithe of the property of Ariston’, ‘a freedman of the household of Ariston’ (his preferred translation), and ‘Philes who is a freedman and a member of the unit called οἱ Ἀρίστωνος’. (74) See Zelnick‐Abramovitz (2005), esp. 162–7 (on the adoption of freed slaves), 184 ff. (on the publication of manumission status). (75) IG XII.6 577; ThesCRA, vol. 1, 277, no. 31 (tr. adapted from Parker). On its date, see Klaffenbach (1953), 15–20 (= SEG XII 391) (c.600–550 BC), cf. Jeffery (1990), LSAG2, 365–6, 371, no. 35 (c.525 BC?). (76) Edito princeps: Klaffenbach (1953), 15–20. (77) LSJ s.v. οἰκεῖος II.1. The vocabulary and idea of kinship (οἰκειότης, συγγένεια) were frequently invoked in colonial relations and other interstate dealings; see e.g. Curty (1995), Hornblower (1991–2008), vol. 2, 61–80, Jones (1999). Hornblower argues that this was true not only of the Hellenistic period but also of the Classical one. (78) Existing views: BE (1959), no. 320, Guarducci (1956) (= SEG XV 526), Graham (1964a), 162–3, Graham (1964b), 73–5. Based on Graham (1964b), Parker in Thes-CRA, vol. 1, 277, no. 31, translates ‘kinsmen (of Samos) from Perinthos’. Jeffery (1990), LSAG2, 365, no. 35 with n. 4, wondered whether οἰκήιοι might mean ‘Perinthian officials responsible for the gifts stored in a Perinthian οἶκος or Treasury in the Samian Heraion, like the οἶκοι at Delphi and Olympia’. (79) Plut. Quaest. Graec. 303f, Shipley (1987), 51 and n. 18. (80) Attica: IG I3 570bis e, 608, 617, 631–3, 638, 667 (supplemented), 735, 857, 862 (supplemented), 872, 885, IG II2 4318, 4599. Elsewhere: FD III.4 no. 187, I.Délos no. 17, IGASMG IV no. 2, IG IV2.1 123.21–9, I.Pergamon no. 165 (partly supplemented). (81) IG I3 735, DAA no. 283. See also Tit. Cal. no. 100 (discussed above: a dekate brought by a son in fulfilment of his father’s vow?). For parallels that are not first offerings, see e.g. IG I3 705, 773, DAA nos 236, 248. (82) See Rouse (1902), 187–239, Van Straten (1981), esp. 102–4, with appendix at 105–51. (83) Lindos II, no. 2.C.15–20.

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Private Dedications (84) Cf. Burkert (1987b), 44–6, (1996), 34–55, 152–5, who suggests that a part offering may be made in situations of danger to appease an angry god (discussed in Chapter 2). (85) E.g. Gow–Page, HE I, 148, II, 426–7, no. 2, Anth. Pal. 6.285 mentions a tithe conditional upon a change of occupation: a poor weaver burnt her weaving implements and vowed a dekate of all her (future) profits (δεκάτη παντὸς λήμματος) should Cypris take her trade and give her another (as a hetaira) that she desired. Cf. in Roman religion CIL I2 1531 = ILLRP 136 (Sora, second century BC): two sons offered a decuma to Hercules in fulfilment of their father’s vow made when he was hard‐pressed. (86) Various kinds of vessels are attested in the material record. Hydriai: ABV2, 80, no. 1 (Acr. no. 601), IG I3 574; kalpis, kylikes, skyphos: SEG XXXVIII 783 a–d, f, Martelli (1988), 113–15; phialai: ABV2, 350, IG I3 559, 561bis, 565–6, 570bis a, c–f; kumbion: I.Délos no. 380.79 (recurs in the inventory lists I.Délos nos 385.A. 81, 421.72, 439.a.44, 442.B.47, 461.B.a.53–4); poterion: I.Délos no. 1434.16; vases (of unspecified types): IG I3 554bis, 583j, l; other ceramic fragments: SEG XLIV 1541, nos 6–8 (supplemented). (87) Personal items: e.g. IG I3 548bis (bronze mirror handle). Ritual object: e.g. IG I3 547, Kaltsas and Shapiro (2008), 53, no. 12: a cymbal in the form of a small bronze disc, probably part of a percussion instrument for cultic dances in orgiastic rites and mysteries (Fig. 4). Tool of trade: e.g. IG XIV 643 = IGASMG IV no. 15 (bronze axe). Money: IG II2 1388.69 (398/7 BC): Andron from the Attic deme Elaious dedicated two gold drachmai, probably in gold coins, as an aparche (Ἄνδρων Ἐλαιόσιος ἀπήρξατο χρυσᾶς : ├ ├). PAA II, 129270 (= PA 922), takes him as a goldsmith, but this is not apparent in the text. (88) I.Histriae 101 (with bibliography in Chapter 1, n. 51). (89) E.g. a kylix is estimated to cost one drachma by Boardman (1988), 372, and a few obols by Stissi (2002), 194. On the price of pottery in ancient Greece, see Johnston (1979), 33, Amyx (1958), 277, table 1, Stissi (2002), 192. (90) IG I3 699A–B, DAA no. 217; Lindos II, no. 2.B.105–6. (91) Athena Ergane on the Athenian acropolis might have attracted craftsmen’s and craftswomen’s dedications (as will be discussed in Section IV). Other divine recipients of first offerings in Attica are e.g. Aphrodite (IG I3 832), Apollo (IG I3 950, IG II2 4853), Demeter at Eleusis (ABV2 350), and Nemesis at Rhamnus (IG I3 1021). (92) Parker (2005), 444, (2011), 87.

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Private Dedications (93) IvO 267–8, SEG XXVIII 431, Löhr (2000), no. 45 (with bibliography), D’Amore (2007), no. 65A–B. Both blocks of stone are broken on the left; [aparche] is supplemented in SEG XXVIII 431, and [dekate] in Löhr (2000) and D’Amore (2007), but neither word appears in IvO 267–8. On Mikythos, see Hdt. 7.170.4, Diod. Sic. 11.48.2, 11.66.1–3, Paus. 5.24.6, 5.26.2–5, with caution in Macan (1908), vol. I.1, 246–7. See also Versnel (2011), ch. 3 and appendix 1, on the singularity and plurality of the gods, and esp. 273–4, 503–5, on the lack of dedications to ‘all the gods’ in Classical Greece. (94) Rhodopis: Hdt. 2.135.1–4. Metapontines: FD III.4, no. 453, Löhr (2000), 48– 9, no. 52. We may also think of Croesus in Hdt. 1.92.2: among his many dedications in Greece are the ones in Delphi and the shrine of Amphiaraus, which constituted an aparche of his inheritance (τῶν πατρωίων χρημάτων ἀπαρχή). (95) IG XI.4 1248 (late third or early second century BC); cf. IG XI.4 1247. (96) The Alexandrian’s aparchai: I.Délos nos 2138, 2139 (the second inscription included Harpocrates among the divine recipients). We know from an entry in a Delian inventory list I.Délos no. 1442.A.56–7 (ἀνδριαντίδια χαλκᾶ δύο, [ἀνάθη]μα Ἀπολλωνίου τοῦ Ἀσκληπ[ιο]δώρου Ἀλεξανδρέως) that his dedications consisted of two small bronze statuettes. His two other dedications are I.Délos nos 2098, 2203; the two marble bases and inscriptions (incomplete in I.Délos no. 2203) are again similar to each other. (97) I.Délos nos 54 (Paros, fourth century), 295.9–10 (Mykonos, second century, recurs in 296.B.43–4, 298.A.147, 399.B.131, 442.B.193, 443.B.b.118, 444.B.36– 7, 461.B.b.26, 1443.B.I.100), IG XI,4 1220 (Amorgos, third or second century), 1241 (Corcyra, undated), 1243 (Mylasa, third or second century). (98) IG XII.1 775 (undated). Soloi as a Lindian colony: Strabo 14.5.8, 671, Arist. fr. 582 Rose; cf. Diog. Laert. 1.51. (99) Lindos II, no. 2.B.105–6 (Aretos and his children from Crete), 2.C.15–20 (Amphinomos and his children from Sybaris). (100) CIG 2660, SGDI III 5731, JHS 16 (1896), 215–16, no. 4 (= McCabe, Halikarnassos Inscriptions, no. 66), with down‐dating in Robert (1978a), 500 (196 in reprint). It was not unique for a monument to comprise more than one first offering, see IG I3 644 (an aparche and a dekate), IG I3 695 (two aparchai). (101) Hdt. 1.175. (102) E.g. I.Délos no. 17 (no ethnic, fifth century). (103) Hdt. 2.135.1–4.

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Private Dedications (104) Cf. e.g. De Polignac (2009a), 34, who speaks of the ‘fonction libératoire’ of the offering, which ‘rend un succès ou un gain légitime en immobilisant au profit du dieu une partie du fruit de ce succès ou de ce gain, par example en tant que dîme, dekatè’. (105) Onesimos: IG I3 699, 926–32; DAA nos 217, 349–53, 357–8. Cf. the Latin inscription from Capua CIL X 3956 (= ILS 3413), concerning a fruit‐seller who three times made tithes to Hercules and lived 102 years. Alexandrian: I.Délos nos 2098, 2138–9, 2203. (106) IG I3 536, 548 bis; LGPN II s.v. Γλύκη (1) and (11). (107) E.g. (1) Hippotherides, a demesman of Acharnai who dedicated a dekate in IG I3 698, is identical, according to LGPN II, to the dedicator in IG I3 971 (not a first offering). (2) The washerwoman’s name Smikythe in IG I3 794 also appears in IG I3 700 (not a first offering), but without the patronymic the two might or might not be the same person (see n. 35). (3) Ktesias son of Apollodoros from Tenos dedicated a round marble base described simultaneously as an aparche and a dekate (IG XI.4 1248) and another object (not a first offering) (IG XI.4 1247) on Delos. (108) Mitford (1980), Jim (2012b). (109) Acropolis dedications: e.g. IG I3 597 (victory in the Pentathlon), 893 (athletic victories). Retirement offerings in epigrams: e.g. Anth. Pal. 6.4, 25–30, 90, 95, 104. (110) IG I3 718, DAA no. 53, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 277, no. 38. (111) SEG XXV 463, Lazzarini (1976), no. 819, CEG 387, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 311, no. 187. (112) IG I3 811, DAA 213, CEG 264. (113) DAA, pp. 457–8, 465. (114) See n. 10. (115) At least five surviving first offerings on the Athenian acropolis were addressed to Athena Ergane: see n. 31. Other dedications (not first offerings) addressed to Athena Ergane are e.g. IG I2 561 (probably not fifth century, excluded in IG I3, see IG I3 p. 972, DAA p. 89), IG II2 4328–9, 4338. On Athena Ergane, see Soph. fr. 844 Radt, Paus. 1.24.3, Harrison (1894), Geagan (1996), esp. 154, Keesling (2003), 75, Parker (2003), 181 n. 76, (2005), 409, 464–5 (on the Chalkeia).

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Private Dedications (116) Ps.‐Hdt. Vit. Hom. 32; with discussion in Detienne and Vernant (1974), 185– 6 (194–5, 209–10 in English tr. of 1978), and commentary by M. J. Milne in Noble (1988), appendix III, 186–96. (117) Penteskouphia plaques: e.g. Staatliche Museen, East Berlin, nos 611, 616, 802B, 827B, 909B; Noble (1988), 151, figs 232–6, Boardman (1998), 203, figs 409.2–3, (2001), 140, figs 173.2–3. On the potential dangers in pottery production, see Noble (1988), 157–61. Function of the plaques: Boardman et al. (2004), 294; cf. Parker (2004a), 280. (118) Xen. Oec. 5.19–20. Sol. fr. 13 West. Cf. Vernant (1983c [1965]), 253–4, who argued that agricultural and military matters in the ancient world presupposed greater dependence on the gods than did artisans’ trades. (119) They include three potters, two fullers, a washerwoman, a butcher, and a merchant. Other dedicators, e.g. Onesimos (vase-painter?), Melinna (most probably a craftswoman), and Menandros (Athenian treasurer?), whose ‘occupations’ are identified indirectly by name‐matching or by inference are not counted here. (120) Harris (2001), 69. (121) Arafat and Morgan (1989), 312. (122) DAA, p. 465. Raubitschek was not alone in drawing far‐reaching conclusions about the socio‐political position of potters based on a few pieces of evidence. A similar tendency is seen in Neer (2002), esp. 87–134: on the basis of eight vase‐paintings in which members of the Pioneer group depicted potters as participants in symposia or activities with aristocratic connotations, Neer identifies a high degree of class consciousness among the vase‐painters, arguing for vase‐paintings as ‘sites of negotiations’ between artisans and aristocrats, and as expressions of artisans’ aspirations to an aristocratic lifestyle during democratic developments at Athens. Note the objections in the useful review by G. Hedreen, BMCR 2003.03.20. (123) Low status: de Ste. Croix (1981), 274–5, Gill and Vickers (1990), 6–8, Vickers and Gill (1994), 93–6. Increased status: Raubitschek in DAA, pp. 458, 465, Williams (1990), 36, Wagner (2000), 386–7. The most recent and comprehensive study of the socio‐economic status of artisans is Feyel (2006), who demonstrates the heterogeneity in the civic status and socio‐economic grouping of artisans working in sanctuaries in the Classical and Hellenistic periods. Yet by concentrating on one particular type of artisan—builders working in sanctuaries—but not ordinary potters and vase-painters, his study is of limited value for our purposes.

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Private Dedications (124) In Classical Athens, an ordinary individual earned about one drachma per day. On the wages of different workers in Classical Athens, see Loomis (1998). It is uncertain how much an average marble statue would have cost, but based on the fourth‐century accounts for the rebuilding of the temple of Apollo in Delphi, Bousquet (1988), 51–60, at 55, shows that each of the twenty‐four pedimental statues (in Athenian pentelic marble) cost 5,000 Attic drachmai or 3,500 Aeginetan drachmai; followed by Rolley (1994), 56. These splendid statues in Delphi by famous sculptors, together with the transportation costs, must have been significantly more expensive than an average statue dedicated locally on the Athenian acropolis. As for bronze monuments, Schol. Pind. Nem. 5.1 gives 3,000 drachmai as the cost of a bronze statue in Pindar’s day. Yet 3,000 drachmai is also the price given in IG II2 555 and Diog. Laert. 6.35 for a standard honorific bronze statue in the Hellenistic period. If it is correct to think that the scholia might have taken this later Hellenistic price as the price in Pindar’s day, the cost of a bronze statue can be estimated as higher than 3,000 drachmai in the Classical period. Discussed also in Smith (2007), 101–2. (125) Andokides (see n. 10 above) was a potter but not a dedicator of a first offering. (126) Webster (1972), 1–41, at 4: ‘another indication of the scale of a workshop is given by the dedications made by potters which are described as tithes or first‐ fruits’; 10: ‘this must have been a prosperous workshop since…Nearchos… dedicated a large kore in 510 BC or a little earlier.’ (127) Stissi (2002), esp. 159–60. A useful list of prices of pottery can be found in Johnston (1979), 33, Amyx (1958), 277, table 1, and Stissi (2002), 192. However, it is difficult to use pottery prices as a basis upon which to estimate the status of pottery and the profitability of the trade for the complex reasons discussed in Stissi (2002), 190–5. (128) Washerwoman: IG I3 794; Vickers (1985), 125 n. 162. (129) Fisherman: IG I3 828; DAA no. 229, p. 262. (130) Ridgway (1987), 402, is in favour of the former; Kron (1996), 165, envisages both possibilities. Phot. and Hsch. s.v. λουτρίδες attest to a sacred office associated with the festival Plynteria (on which see Souvinou‐Inwood (2011) ), but the title was plyntrides, which gives as singular plyntris, not plyntria. It is more probable that the use of the word plyntria in our inscription IG I3 794, together with the presence of other washerwomen and banausoi on the acropolis (see the following note), points to a washerwoman, not a sacred title.

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Private Dedications (131) Other banausoi: e.g. IG I3 546 (a female bread‐seller, ἀρτόπωλις), 554 (a fuller, κναφεύς), 606 (a workman/craftsman, τέκτων), 646 (a tanner, σκυλόδεσφ‐‐), IG II2 2934 (a group of clothes‐cleaners, πλυνῆς); these are not first offerings. The defendant Euxitheus in Dem. 57.45 says that many citizen women had been forced by poverty to work as wet‐nurses, wool‐workers, and fruit‐pickers on account of the city’s misfortunes (perhaps the aftermath of the Peloponnesian War), and that many after being poor are now rich (πολλαὶ δ᾽ ἐκ πενήτων πλούσιαι νῦν). Might our washerwoman Smikythe too have become rich? (132) Nolan (1981), 57–9, followed by Oliver (2000), 76, gives the cost of an uninscribed marble slab for a public document at between eleven and twentythree drachmai (including the cost of quarrying, preparation, and transporting) in the fourth century. This is similar to the estimate in Nielsen et al. (1989): a funerary monument cost between ten and twenty drachmai in the fourth century. Cf. Lawton (1995), 25: fourth‐century stelai with reliefs cost between twenty and fifty drachmai. (133) E.g. Andoc. 1.146, Dem. 25.38, 57.30–6; Ober (1989), 274–7, 310–11. (134) E.g. Xen. Oec. 4.1–3, Arist. [Oec.] 1.1343b, Pol. 3.2.8–9, 1277a–b, 8.2.1–2, 1337b. (135) Isae. 5.42.

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Military First Offerings

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

Military First Offerings Theodora Suk Fong Jim

DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.003.0007

Abstract and Keywords While private individuals might present aparchai and dekatai to the gods on a great variety of occasions, military victory was the most common occasion when Greek cities would bring these offerings. Set up predominantly in Panhellenic shrines and often involving enormous sums, military first offerings offered much scope for ostentatious display and interstate competition. This chapter considers how booty was customarily divided between men and the gods, the value and form of the gods’ share (ranging from captured spoils and conquered territory to, more commonly, commemorative monuments), possible interactions between individual and communal practices, and how Greek cities expressed their rivalries with these offerings. Gluckman’s social anthropological model is applied to explore the extent to which setting aside the gods’ portion might have been a ritualized means of controlling conflicts between armies in the division of spoils. Keywords:   booty, division of spoils, military victory, commemorative monument, rivalries, Panhellenic shrines, display, competition

In his account of the battle of Sagra in the sixth century, Justin tells us that the people of Croton consulted the oracle at Delphi about the war against Locri and were told that they would win with vows rather than weapons. The Crotonians vowed a tenth of the booty to Apollo if they won the battle, whereupon the Locrians vowed a ninth to outbid them and came off successfully.1 Despite being a late source, the tradition demonstrates that sharing the profits of war with the gods was a way of cultivating their favour in military affairs.

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Military First Offerings In the last chapter we have seen aparchai and dekatai dedicated by private individuals on a great variety of occasions, but as far as cities are concerned, military success was by far the most common reason for bringing first offerings.2 Soldiers and groups of soldiers might also offer part of what they had personally acquired while on campaigns.3 (p.177) Evidence of military first offerings is concentrated in the decades following the Persian Wars, though the practice continued in later periods. While inscriptional evidence constitutes the main source, the testimonies of Herodotus and Pausanias, who reported some of the monuments they saw in their lifetimes and sometimes recorded the inscriptions they read, have helped historians to identify various objects and restore their inscriptions. Military first offerings could take various forms, such as captured spoils, conquered territory, or more commonly a commemorative monument. These were predominantly set up in the Panhellenic sanctuaries of Delphi and Olympia,4 and were usually referred to as dekatai, sometimes akrothinia, and rarely aparchai.5 Compared to first offerings of agricultural produce and other earnings, victory offerings were made on a much larger scale and often involved enormous sums, thereby providing much scope for ostentatious display and interstate competition. In what follows we shall see how booty was divided between men and gods, the value of the gods’ share, and how Greek cities expressed their rivalries by means of their offerings. Finally, by applying Gluckman’s social anthropological model, we shall explore the extent to which setting aside the gods’ portion might have been a ritualized means of controlling conflicts between armies in the division of spoils.

I. Public dedications Separating the gods’ share

Despite the abundance of military first offerings in the archaeological, epigraphic, and literary records, few sources are explicit about the (p.178) actual treatment of spoils, except Herodotus’ account of the battles of Salamis and Plataea. In 480 BC, after suffering heavy losses at Thermopylae and Artemisium, the allied Greek forces defeated the Persian fleet in the straits between Salamis and the Greek mainland. Herodotus tells us that, as soon as the Greeks returned to Salamis after devastating Carystus, their first act was to set aside (ἐξαιρεῖν) akrothinia for the gods, including three Phoenician triremes sent to the Isthmus, Sounion, and Salamis respectively. Then they divided up the spoils and sent akrothinia to Delphi, from which was made a statue (of Apollo?) twelve cubits high, with the beak of a ship in its hand.6 Here we have two sets of akrothinia of different kinds and values: a splendid monument in a Panhellenic sanctuary, and the enemies’ triremes in local shrines. It was not uncommon to dedicate captured ships in the event of a naval victory;7 the ships were ‘raw’ offerings in the same way as captured arms and armour were. In Delphi a ‘raw’ object was Page 2 of 26

Military First Offerings combined with a ‘converted’ offering in the form of a statue. Herodotus does not mention a vow before the battle of Salamis. Yet after dispatching the akrothinia to Delphi, the Greeks jointly inquired of the god if the offerings were enough and pleasing to him. Apollo’s answer is illuminating: he was satisfied with everyone except the Aeginetans, from whom he demanded the prize of valour (ἀριστήια) they had won earlier at Salamis,8 whereupon the Aeginetans duly dedicated three stars fixed onto a bronze mast. It is interesting that Apollo should claim the ἀριστήια, as if to emphasize that the god was the ἀριστεύσας: excellence was to be attributed in the first place to the (p.179) gods, not men.9 But it is also plausible that the Aeginetans dedicated their prize voluntarily, and the tradition was told later to account for their dedication.10 The following year the Persians suffered another defeat at the battle of Plataea (479 BC). The Spartan regent and general Pausanias proclaimed that no one was to lay hands on any of the spoils and ordered the helots to collect everything of value. When all the valuables had been collected from the Persian camp, the Greek allies set aside a dekate of the spoils for the god at Delphi, from which was made a golden tripod resting on a bronze serpent column. The act of ‘taking out’ (ἐξαιρεῖν) the god’s portion also applied to Zeus at Olympia and Poseidon at the Isthmus, who received a bronze statue ten cubits and seven cubits high respectively.11 It is unclear whether a tenth of all the spoils was divided equally among the three gods, or each of them received a full tithe, or only Delphic Apollo received a full tithe and the other gods received an arbitrary portion of what remained.12 We are left wondering on what principles the Greeks decided to which divinities to assign first offerings and on what scale. After separating out the gods’ share, they divided up the rest of the spoils, including the Persians’ concubines, gold and silver, other valuables, and yoke‐animals, with each contingent receiving its due according to merit.13 Herodotus believes that prominent individuals who excelled in the fighting must have received their due, although it was unclear how much, and states that Pausanias himself received ten of everything of value.14 (p.180) Plutarch adds some important details to Herodotus’ account of Plataea: the Athenians and Spartans nearly came to blows over the aristeia. Thereupon a Megarian suggested that it be given to some third city. The suggestion of Plataea was accepted and therefore a sum of eighty talents was allotted to the Plataeans, who used it to build a sanctuary of Athena.15 We may note that Plataea’s aristeia (and the shrine it funded for Athena) involved a much larger sum than Aegina’s aristeia (three stars on a bronze mast for Apollo) after Salamis. The offerings from Plataea and Aegina, though made on very different scales, suggest that individual cities in an alliance could make their own offering to the gods in addition to the first offering collectively made in the name of the allied states. The gods’ share was therefore not necessarily restricted to their customary

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Military First Offerings dekate or akrothinion, but might, depending on the initiative of individual cities, include additional offerings. These two passages suggest several methods of separating the gods’ share. One way was to make a rough estimate and division of the spoils, from which a ‘raw’ portion was taken out and later converted into money. Herodotus’ statement about the treatment of spoils at Plataea (συμφορήσαντες δὲ τὰ χρήματα καὶ δεκάτην ἐξελόντες τῷ ἐν Δελφοῖσι θεῷ ‘having collected the valuables, they set aside a tithe for the god at Delphi’), if taken literally, seems to suggest that a tithe was taken out before the booty was sold (or at least there is no mention of its sale).16 Another possibility was to select items of equipment of symbolic significance—in Salamis’ case, three Phoenician triremes signifying the naval victory—which did not necessarily represent any fixed portion of the total spoils collected. I wonder whether it was this that led Herodotus to describe the offerings at Salamis as akrothinia and not dekatai. A combination of different methods might also be used: thus after Salamis, the Phoenician triremes were taken out before the rest of the spoils were treated further, whereas the statue at Delphi must have been constructed using the proceeds (p.181) from the sale of Apollo’s share of the spoils, though we are not told at which stage the sale took place. A similar combination of ‘raw’ and ‘converted’ offerings is seen in another Herodotean passage: the Phocians dedicated half of the 4,000 captured Thessalian shields at Abae and the other half in Delphi; they then set aside a tenth of the (other) property (δεκάτη τῶν χρημάτων, presumably a tenth of the other objects acquired aside from the shields) for setting up statues at Abae and Delphi.17 Nowhere does Herodotus mention the conversion of booty into money and when it took place, but from other ancient authors we know that armies could sell their plunder to potential purchasers on the spot or in nearby places.18 Therefore a further possibility was to sell the spoils collected before the gods’ share was set aside and the monuments commissioned. More generally, regardless of how the gods’ share was separated, it appears to have been a general practice to set aside the gods’ portion from the common store before any further distribution among the armies.19 We shall return to booty division between participating armies at the end. Value of dedications

In neither the battle of Salamis nor Plataea are we told the sums involved in the gods’ share. Some other battles allow us to estimate the value of the offerings and the resources from which they were made. To commemorate their victory over Boeotia and Chalcis in 506 BC, the Athenians dedicated on the Athenian acropolis a bronze chariot as a tithe, along with fetters used on their enemies.20 Herodotus tells us that 700 Boeotians and an unknown number of Chalcidians were taken prisoner and later ransomed for 200 drachmai (or two mnai) each. This would mean a total of at least 140,000 drachmai (or 23.3 talents). If we assume that the dekate was a real tenth here, this bronze monument with four horses and a chariot (p.182) would have cost at least 14,000 drachmai (or 2.3 Page 4 of 26

Military First Offerings talents), and a single statue would have cost at least 2,800 drachmai on average.21 This seems to correspond more or less to the cost of bronze statues in the Classical period, which are estimated at more than 3,000 drachmai.22 However, the bronze statue of Athena Promachos on the Athenian acropolis gives a very different figure. According to Pausanias, it was made by Phidias and was dedicated as a first offering (referred to as a dekate and an aparche interchangeably by Pausanias) of the spoils taken from the battle of Marathon (490 BC).23 From the Attic building accounts, Dinsmoor estimated its total cost to be eighty‐three talents, spent over a period of at least nine years. The dating of the accounts further suggests that the statue was constructed at least several decades after the battle.24 The figure of eighty‐three talents may seem exceptionally high but is not without parallel. Xenophon tells us that, from his campaigns in Asia Minor, the Spartan king Agesilaus offered (ἀποθύειν) to the god in Delphi a tithe of his booty, an offering of not less than 100 talents (δεκάτην τῶν ἐκ τῆς λείας τῷ θεῷ ἀπέθυσεν οὐκ ἐλάττω ἑκατὸν ταλάντων). It is unclear, however, what form Agesilaus’ offering took, whether it was a monument, a great sacrifice, or a sum of money.25 (p.183) The battle of Marathon appears to have been commemorated by more than one monumental first offering.26 The Athenian treasury in (p.184) the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi (Fig. 6) is supposedly also related to this event. Pausanias’ statement that it was built from the spoils taken at Marathon appears to be confirmed by the inscription on the base in front of its south wall: Ἀθεναῖοι τ[õ]ι Ἀπόλλον[ι ἀπὸ Μέδ]ον ἀκ[ροθ]ίνια τε̑ς Μαραθ[õ]νι μ[άχες] (‘The Athenians to Apollo [from the Med]es as fir[st off]erings from the b[attle] of Marath[o]n’). While the French excavators agreed with Pausanias and took the inscription as referring to the treasury, some scholars argue that Pausanias was mistaken and that the treasury was built between 506 and 490 BC

Fig. 6 . Athenian treasury in the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi, as

—that is, before Marathon.27 The controversy is unlikely to be satisfactorily resolved, but if the base was indeed added Page 5 of 26

Military First Offerings later and referred to the treasury, it would mean that an existing monument, originally intended for other purposes, was turned into a first offering commemorating this battle. Also associated with Marathon is a group of thirteen statues near the eastern entrance of Apollo’s sanctuary at Delphi. Fashioned by Phidias in about the second half of the fifth century, the statues represent Athena, Apollo, Miltiades, and ten Athenian heroes, seven of whom were eponymous heroes. Pausanias, our main source on this monument, does not cite the inscription he read in his time, but reports that according to the inscribed base, the statue group was dedicated ‘from a tithe of the spoils of Marathon’ (ἀπὸ δεκάτης τοῦ Μαραθωνίου ἔργου), reiterating that the group was ‘in truth a tithe of the spoils of the battle’ (καὶ ἀληθεῖ λόγῳ δεκάτη καὶ οὗτοι τῆς μάχης εἰσίν).28

The monuments associated with reconstructed by the French School at Marathon are worthy of our Athens attention as they raise the questions of whether the Athenians would have acquired enough spoils from this battle alone to pay for so many elaborate monuments, and whether some dekatai and akrothinia came from sources other than the spoils taken during the (p.185) campaign they commemorate.29 Miller suggests plausibly that the spoils from the battle of the Eurymedon in the early 460s might have helped to defray the expense of the monuments for Marathon;30 this would also explain the time‐lag between Marathon itself and the monuments associated with it, which were constructed a few decades later. Probably, then, the (nearly) singled‐handed Athenian victory at Marathon was so politically and ideologically significant to the Athenians that its commemoration was considered worthy of the expense, even if it far exceeded the profits from the battle. We saw earlier that it was possible to give more than a tithe to the gods by using some of what remained; here it is intriguing that the offerings might have far exceeded the sum total of the financial gains from the war. Dedications and their dedicators

When it came to a state or several states jointly setting up a first offering, the question arose in whose name it would be dedicated. Ideally it would have represented the participating state or states collectively, but sometimes prominent individuals might be entrusted with the task of offering it on behalf of all and thereby claim most of the credit. This is best illustrated by a well‐known passage in Xenophon’s Anabasis. In summer 400 BC, the Ten Thousand reached the city of Cerasus in the Black Sea. There they sold their prisoners of war and the booty taken during the long march; from its proceeds a dekate was set aside for Apollo and Artemis, and entrusted to Xenophon and six other generals for safe‐keeping.31 We are not told what sums were involved, nor do we hear anything further about the portions allotted to the other generals. Faced with a hazardous journey, Xenophon left his share for Artemis in the hands of Megabyxus, the priest of Ephesian Artemis,32 charging him to dedicate, in the event of his death, whatever offering he thought would (p.186) please the Page 6 of 26

Military First Offerings goddess, but to return the sum to him if he returned safely. From the portion of the dekate entrusted to him, Xenophon dedicated to Apollo an anathema in the above‐mentioned Athenian treasury at Delphi,33 inscribed with Xenophon’s own name and that of Proxenus (his comrade killed on campaign), but not the Ten Thousand’s. For Ephesian Artemis he later bought an estate at Scillus (near Olympia) as Apollo’s oracle directed, and founded an annual festival in honour of the goddess. Although this sanctuary for Artemis was built out of public money and not Xenophon’s own profits, Xenophon evidently played a prominent role and acquired much fame and honour for having established the shrine.34 We should like to know how Xenophon decided on the amount to spend on Apollo and Artemis, the kind of offering for each deity, and (in Apollo’s case) what to inscribe on it. His undertaking demonstrates well the conjunction of public and private initiatives in a single offering: as Bruit Zaidman puts it, the sanctuary and its management represent at once the collective offering of Cyrus’ soldiers and the personal piety of Xenophon.35 The prestige accorded by dedications to their dedicators can also be illustrated by another victory monument. We have seen how, after the battle of Plataea, the Greeks jointly dedicated a golden tripod resting on the so‐called serpent column as Delphic Apollo’s dekate. According to Thucydides, it was upon this tripod that Pausanias was suspected of having inscribed the following elegiac couplet: Ἑλλήνων ἀρχηγὸς ἐπεὶ στρατὸν ὤλεσε Μήδων, Παυσανίας Φοίβῳ μνῆμ᾽ ἀνέθηκε τόδε.36 Leader of the Greeks, when he had destroyed the Persian army, Pausanias dedicated this memorial to Phoibos.

(p.187) The epigram ascribed the dedication to Pausanias and underlined his role as leader of the Greeks in overthrowing the Persians, as if the achievement had been his own. According to Thucydides, the Spartans immediately had it erased and inscribed the monument with the names of all the cities that had joined in defeating the Persians and dedicated it.37 Currie suggests that Pausanias’ self‐promotion might have been endorsed by the Spartan state, at least initially.38 Whether the Spartans reacted spontaneously or by compulsion (from the other Greek cities), the episode suggests that it would have caused great offence to the other Greeks for the joint war effort to have been attributed to a single Spartan; at the same time Pausanias’ behaviour shows the potential of dedicatory inscriptions, especially those in Panhellenic shrines, to publicize the name and deeds of the dedicator. Interstate rivalries and/or obligations to the gods?

Given their scale and the events they commemorated, it is no surprise that military first offerings had particular potential for displaying a city’s financial and military power. Their accompanying inscriptions frequently mention the victorious city and the defeated,39 showing little restraint in naming the vanquished, whether they were Greeks or non‐Greeks. Reflections on this Page 7 of 26

Military First Offerings phenomenon are rare and perhaps unusual. Plato’s Republic provides one of the few passages that criticize the dedication of spoils taken from fellow Greeks.40 In a moral treatise of the second century AD, Maximus of Tyre praises the virtue of agriculture and farmers, and denounces warfare and soldiers as less useful, claiming that first‐fruits of the fields are likely to be more pleasing to the gods than the tithes offered by the Greek commanders (p.188) Pausanias and Lysander.41 It has been suggested that there might have been a law in c.440 banning the dedication of captured arms at Olympia.42 Despite these isolated remarks and possible measures, the use of offerings and inscriptions for publicizing one’s victory (and another’s defeat) appears to have been taken for granted and was rarely seen as problematic by the Greeks at large. In Panhellenic sanctuaries where dedications from a panorama of communities coexisted, first offerings are likely to have been made in a spirit of competition. Their scale and strategic placement in the shrines all argue for political motives beyond the simple dedication of thank‐offerings to the gods. Competitive interactions can be illustrated with a few instances. In the fifth century, the Messenians and Naupactians jointly dedicated at Olympia a statue of Nike in Parian marble, mounted on a triangular column decorated with shields, as a result of their victory (with Athenian help) over the Spartans.43 It bears the inscription Μεσσάνιοι καὶ Ναυπάκτιοι ἀνέθεν Διὶ Ὀλυμπίωι δεκάταν ἀπὸ τῶμ πολεμίων (‘The Messenians and Naupactians dedicated to Zeus Olympios a tithe from their enemy’).44 The shields decorating the column were taken from the unidentified battle in which Sparta was defeated. Erected directly opposite the temple of Zeus, the monument might have been rivalling the gold shield hung by Sparta on the temple’s east pediment in commemoration of its victory over Athens, Argos, and the Ionians in the battle of Tanagra (c.457 BC), which also was dedicated as a dekate to Olympian (p.189) Zeus.45 When setting up victory monuments, the Greeks seem to have been concerned with outbidding their enemies and proclaiming their achievements as much as giving the gods their due. Panhellenic sanctuaries in particular, because of their ‘international’ clientele and prestige, provided an arena where rivalries among Greek cities were played out. A military first offering could be rededicated or renewed to evoke memories of interstate rivalries. In connection with the Athenian victory over Boeotia and Chalcis in the late sixth century already mentioned, archaeologists have discovered fragments of two statue bases similarly inscribed but of markedly different dates.46 The implication seems to be that the original dekate was destroyed or looted by the Persians, and a replica was set up later, perhaps to revive memory of the earlier victory at a time when Athenian superiority over Boeotia and Chalcis became topical.47 An interesting parallel can be found in Delphi: in c.340/39 BC the Athenians rededicated the shields taken from the battle of Plataea in the new temple of Apollo at Delphi (before its rebuilding was actually finished), the old temple having collapsed in 373/2. The shields bore the Page 8 of 26

Military First Offerings inscription Ἀθηναῖοι ἀπὸ Μήδων καὶ Θηβαίων, ὅτε τἀναντία τοῖς Ἕλλησιν ἐμάχοντο (‘The Athenians, from the Medes and the Thebans when they fought against the Greeks’). The statement that the Thebans joined the Medes in fighting against the Greeks was clearly intended to insult them. The rededicated shields served to revive memories of Theban medism and are likely to have been part of Athens’ anti‐Theban propaganda in the fourth century.48 (p.190) Display and competition, however, were not necessarily separated from or incompatible with piety. Doubtless an important reason for offering military tithes was to render the gods their due and to acknowledge their role in successful undertakings. The need to depend on divine favour in the precarious context of war explains why religious acts would accompany every stage of a campaign: before the army set out, during the march, before crossing a frontier or river, before engaging the enemy in the battlefield, and after coming off safely.49 Nevertheless, an army would not make a military first offering before going into battle, but on coming out well from it. While consultative sacrifices before a military move were aimed at learning the gods’ will, first offerings after a victory were made in gratitude for the divine help received. Xenophon tells how, on several major occasions, Cyrus asks the magi to select from the spoils the gods’ share, referred to by the words akrothinion and charisteria (‘thank‐ offering’).50 Among the victory dedications set up by the Attalids in Pergamum, some are described as charisterion/a, and others as aparche and dekate.51 The interchangeable use of these words in similar contexts suggests that military first offerings are akin to ‘thank‐offerings’ even when not explicitly described as such. There are indications that allocating the gods’ share was not a mere formality or an instrument of display, but was considered a matter of serious concern. To recall Delphic Apollo’s share after Salamis, the Greeks took care to make sure that the god was pleased with his akrothinia, as if grave consequences could result otherwise.52 While discharging their debt to the god for the victory just won, the Greeks must have been hoping for continued divine protection in later battles. This dual nature of victory offerings, implicit in most cases, is made explicit by a passage in the Cyropaedia. After routing the Assyrians, Cyrus is represented as saying: ‘First of all, I praise the gods as far as I can; so do all of you, I imagine. For we have gained victory (p.191) and salvation. We ought, therefore, to render to the gods thank‐offerings (χαριστήρια) for these things, whatsoever we have.’ He goes on to say that when the god grants some further blessing, he will not forget him.53 While rendering thank‐offerings, Cyrus was hoping for further divine favours in return for which he would repay the gods with more gifts. This illustrates the ideal of a continuous cycle of gifts and counter‐gifts between men and gods that we discussed in Chapter 2. Amid the great insecurities of war, the proper discharge of obligations to the gods might have provided a source of psychological assurance to the armies: just as the gods had granted them victory then, so would they continue to side with them. Page 9 of 26

Military First Offerings Any failure to give the gods their due, we can imagine, is likely to have caused great anxiety among the army. Seen in this light, sharing the spoils with multiple deities after a single victory, as in the cases of Salamis and Plataea, could well have been an attempt to solicit the support of more divine helpers. Remarkably few military first offerings are explicitly associated with a vow.54 To assign the gods the first share in the division of spoils, whether or not a vow had been made, was a way of settling the ‘occasional’ debt incurred when a city came off well in war, and an implicit acknowledgement of the gods’ involvement in military affairs. Such is the idea expressed in a fifth‐century inscription at Selinus. The text begins with the line ‘because of the gods the Selinuntians are victorious’ ([δι]ὰ τὸς θεὸς τό[σ]δε νικõντι̣ τοὶ Σελινόν̣[τιοι]); then follow the names of the gods responsible for Selinus’ victory. That the Selinuntians owed their victory to each of the gods listed, and in particular (μάλιστα) to Zeus, is made explicit by the successive use of διά with the name of each god. The end of the inscription provides for the commissioning of a gold object of sixty talents with the gods’ names inscribed, but with Zeus’ name first. Though not described explicitly as a charisterion, this was clearly a thank‐offering in return for the gods’ favour in the (unidentified) battle.55 One wonders whether it was intended as a dekate or an (p.192) akrothinion but was not described as such, and whether the sixty talents represented a tenth or any other portion of the total profits made. As far as booty was concerned, there was no written law ordaining the obligatory handing of a share to the gods. While a defeated city might be compelled to hand over its property, it was the voluntary decision of the victorious city or cities to share the acquired profits with the gods. The practice is likely to have been prescribed socially by custom rather than required by law. A passage in Demosthenes has been (mis‐)taken by Pritchett and others as evidence for Athenian legislation attributing a tenth of booty to Athena. In the year 352 BC, Demosthenes delivered a speech attacking a law introduced by Timocrates which sought to protect the Athenian ambassadors holding onto the plunder (worth nine and a half talents) of a merchant ship captured off the Egyptian coast. Demosthenes compared the ambassadors to temple‐robbers, claiming that Timocrates’ law would deprive the gods of the dekate due to Athena (0.95 talents or 5,700 drachmai) and the pentekoste or fiftieth (1,140 drachmai) due to the other gods. Instead of referring to an existing law, he is much more likely to be drawing on the custom of offering a dekate of any loot to the goddess.56 The passage of Justin quoted at the beginning of this chapter shows precisely that a tenth was the gods’ customary portion; what was unusual was for Locri to transgress the norm by vowing a ninth.57 Yet a city could also give a random portion less than a tenth. Despite the lack of written laws requiring a tithe for the gods, the practice seems to have been so strongly prescribed by tradition that any failure to bring one would have appeared

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Military First Offerings unseemly or even offensive to the gods. It was the quasi‐obligatory nature of military first offerings that gave Demosthenes’ argument force in the law court. Much has been said so far about monumental offerings set up in Panhellenic sanctuaries. Yet military first offerings were also dedicated by cities in local shrines, such as the Athenian acropolis, the (p.193) Lindian acropolis, and other local sanctuaries.58 Victory offerings set up locally had less scope for interstate competition, and were more probably a means of evoking the city’s achievements among its local inhabitants. However, the gods’ share was not necessarily invested in building projects; sometimes it might be channelled back to the financing and maintenance of the cult concerned. After subduing the Mytilenian revolt in 428/7 BC, the Athenians divided the island of Lesbos (save the area of Methymna) into 3,000 portions, of which 300 were set aside for the gods. This is a real tenth, although the word dekate is not used. It appears to have been a standard Athenian practice to set aside temene (‘precincts’) in conquered territories to the gods, but only in this Thucydidean passage do we know that the temene represented a real tenth of the appropriated land.59 The gods’ temene were usually leased out, and the rent collected would provide a source of sacred revenue.60 A related practice was to buy a piece of land for the gods with some of the profits of war. As we have seen earlier, Xenophon purchased an estate in Scillus for Ephesian Artemis using the goddess’s share of the dekate from the long march. The land was leased out, and tenants were required to pay a dekate of the land’s produce to fund an annual festival held in the sanctuary.61 Land and the produce of land aside, military first offerings could also take the form of arms and armour, animal sacrifice, and (in myths) captives dedicated alive.62

(p.194) II. Dedications from soldiers and/or commanders Separately from military first offerings set up by a Greek city or several cities collectively, military commanders, individual soldiers, or groups of soldiers might also voluntarily offer part of what they had personally acquired in wars. Given that the gods had received the first share before further distribution of the booty, and that by the collective first offering each soldier had already paid his debt to the gods, it may seem to have been superfluous for individuals to make additional first offerings. Individuals might have been influenced by, and imitating, the city’s religious practice, or they might have been extending a customary practice familiar in other areas of life (such as agriculture and work in general) to the military sphere. If public dedications pertained to the well‐ being of the community as a whole, a soldier’s own dedication concerned his personal welfare and relationship with the gods. Some individuals might have vowed, before or in the course of a campaign, a share of their profits from the war should they come off safely from a battle. Set up mainly (but not exclusively) in local shrines, these ‘additional’ first offerings were both expressions of piety and memorials of one’s deeds. Marble and bronze objects predominate, whereas arms and armour (whether the enemies’ or the dedicator’s own) are not securely Page 11 of 26

Military First Offerings attested as first offerings from individuals.63 Some of them were made on such a large scale that their dedicator must have made substantial gains on campaign, and are similar in nature to the first offerings from windfalls or unexpected profits seen in Chapter 5. (p.195) In the sixth century a colossal marble kouros was dedicated as a tithe of spoils to Apollo in Didyma. This appears to have been a private dedication from an individual whose name ended in ‐es: [--]ης ἀπήρ{σ}ξατο ληίης δεκάτην τõι Ἀπ[όλλωνι] (‘--es made a first offering of a tenth of the spoils to Ap[ollo]’).64 Also from Didyma in perhaps the sixth century is a peculiar object of bronze in the form of a massive knucklebone‐weight. It is inscribed boustrophedon with the text τάδε τἀγάλματα̣ ἀ̣πὸ λείο Ἀριστόλοχ̣[ος] [καὶ] Θράσων ἀνέθεσαν τ[ὠ]πόλλωνι δεκάτην· ἔχε[ε] δ᾽ αὐτὰ . σικλῆς ὁ Κυδιμ. ν . (‘Aristoloch-[os and] Thrason dedicated these agalmata to Apollo as a tithe ἀ̣πὸ λείο (?). [--]sikles son of Kydim[‐]n[–] cast65 them’).66 If it is correct to think that λείο (= λήïου) derives from λήïον, an equivalent of λεία (‘booty’), this would be a dekate of booty from two private individuals. However, it has also been proposed to associate λείο with λήïον in the sense of ‘field’; accordingly, this might be a tithe of the field’s produce comparable to the δεκάτη χοριόω seen in Chapter 3.67 But whether ‘booty’ or ‘field’ is meant, there is no apparent connection between the source of the tithe and the form of the dedication. Knucklebones (astragaloi) were commonly used as a form of dice in games of chance in antiquity: might the object be alluding to the dedicators’ success in gambling (but this does not explain ἀ̣πὸ λείο), or more probably to the element of chance in gaining a rich profit from an enterprise? If, as has (p.196) been recently suggested, knucklebones were used in the divinatory procedures at Didyma (as in some other oracular shrines in Asia Minor), Aristolochos and Thrason might be acknowledging the role of Apollo’s oracle in granting them success in some (military?) activity they had undertaken.68 Groups of soldiers and/or military commanders might jointly dedicate in local shrines. In Megara a group of soldiers dedicated a small bronze plaque, nailed perhaps beside some booty, as a dekate from spoils (ἀπὸ λα[ία]ς) to Athena.69 Another tithe of spoils was dedicated by five generals (στρατηγοί) in Cyrene to the city’s patron deity Apollo.70 In Pergamum a group of soldiers who fought with king Eumenes II in his second war against Nabis (192 BC) set up an akrothinion to Athena Nikephoros.71 Most spectacular of all was perhaps the marble dedication on the Lindian acropolis: a marble base representing the bow of a war galley (triemiolia), once with a statue of Nike on top, was dedicated by Lindian crews to Athena Lindia in c.265–260 BC. The long inscription, containing the names of the naval commander, two trierarchs, and a long list of sailors, identifies this as ‘an aparche from the booty’ (ἀπαρχὴ ἀπὸ τῶν λαφύρων) taken in their successful operation(s) against the Tyrrhenians.72 It is unclear how much of the captured booty went to the crews, but this example demonstrates

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Military First Offerings well the two facets of military first offerings as acts of piety and tangible memorials of human achievements. Among individual dedicators of military first offerings, we meet on the Lindian acropolis a naval commander (ναύαρχος) of the Rhodian fleet, in Cyrene one Aristis son of Philon who (in an unknown capacity) dedicated three triremes taken from Cyrene’s enemy, in Cilicia an individual who might have participated in the taking of (p.197) Xanthus by Brutus in 43 BC.73 Two private dedications in Delphi in the fourth century are described as akrothinia. One was a limestone column set up by an Orchomenian and inscribed with Θεός· τύχαν ἀγαθάν vacat Φίλων Τριτέα Ὀρχομένιος Ἀρκὰς Ἀπόλλωνι ἀνέθηκε ἀκροθίνιον (‘God; Good Fortune. Philon son of Triteas, Orchomenian, Arcadian, dedicated an akrothinion to Apollo’). The other was an unknown object dedicated by one Athenaios: [Ἀ]θηναῖος Ἀπόλλων[ι] ἀκροθίν[ιον] (‘Athenaios (dedicated) an akrothinion to Apollo’).74 Neither gives any indication that the akrothinion was from spoils. As the word akrothinion was not applied exclusively, even if predominantly, in military contexts,75 we cannot be certain that these were military offerings. Some individuals might have used the word loosely to signify ‘first offerings’ without any connection to booty.

III. Social functions of military first offerings Contrary to Momigliano’s celebrated notion that material self‐enrichment was not the real cause of war in the Greek world, it is now generally recognized that the fruits of war constituted a major, if not exclusive, motivating factor for military conflicts. The figures collected by Pritchett show that the value of the booty acquired could reach hundreds or even thousands of talents in the Classical and Hellenistic periods.76 Accordingly, as we have already seen, the gods’ share might involve considerable sums. The acquisition and distribution of booty probably constituted the most potent opportunity for property distribution in the ancient world. Apart from a means of cultivating the gods and advertising victory, the act of assigning first portions to the gods after a successful campaign (p.198) might have a practical social function, namely to preserve the solidarity of the army by avoiding conflict in the division of spoils. Our sources show that the distribution of booty was potentially divisive to the unity of participating forces, easily leading to disagreements and desertion. In the opening scenes of the Iliad, Achilles’ conflict with Agamemnon was provoked, on the one hand, by the latter’s rejection of the customary procedures in booty division, and, on the other hand, by his claim to the lion’s share of the spoils while Achilles did most of the fighting.77 We hear of several disputes between Sparta and its allies over their share of booty from the Peloponnesian War; the most well‐known one (if the reference is indeed to spoils of war) is the Theban claim to the dekate for Apollo, which, according to Xenophon, contributed to Spartan hostilities against Thebes in 395 BC.78 In the same year the booty captured by the Paphlagonians and Spithridates were seized by the Page 13 of 26

Military First Offerings Spartan Herippidas, as a result of which they deserted from the Spartans. One of the events that brought about Thibron’s change of fortune, according to Diodorus Siculus, was his quarrel about booty division with one of his leaders called Mnasicles, who then deserted to Cyrene. Polybius tells us that the Aetolians fell out with each other over the spoils collected from Etruria (299 BC) and destroyed the greater part of their own forces and the booty itself. Another passage in Polybius relates how Philip V’s opponents tried to weaken his forces by disseminating among the soldiers rumours that they were unfairly treated and did not receive in full their customary share of the booty. (p.199) This roused the young soldiers to attempt to plunder the tents of the king’s friends.79 As we have seen in the introductory chapter, Gluckman identified practical social functions in first‐fruits ceremonies among the Bantu in Africa: by forbidding consumption of the newly available crops before the relevant rites were performed, he argued, first‐fruits rituals had the potential to prevent conflicts and reinforce social cohesion among the participants.80 Gluckman’s model has limited explanatory value for agricultural first‐fruits (Chapter 3) or first offerings of other kinds of earnings (Chapter 5) in ancient Greece, where there is no evidence for prohibition on consuming new crops and/or newly acquired wealth before a preliminary portion was rendered to the gods. Nevertheless, his idea may apply more appropriately to military first offerings. As far as booty division was concerned, armies appear normally to have been prohibited from claiming their share before the gods’ portion was assigned. We have already seen that, after Plataea, Pausanias forbade anyone from laying hands on the spoils as the valuables were being collected.81 Xenophon’s Cyropaedia provides many instances where Cyrus asked the magi to separate the gods’ share before the rest of the booty was distributed to the generals and the troops.82 In the actual process of collection and division, we may imagine, individual soldiers were likely to be required to hand over the booty to an authority who would oversee the ‘taking out’ of the god’s share using any of the procedures envisaged earlier.83 Then we would expect the remaining spoils to be divided among the armies according to prior agreements (if any)84 or other principles, such as (p. 200) the performance and the size of the contingents.85 It was probably normal practice to assign aristeiai to the city and individual who most distinguished itself or himself in a battle,86 and a sizeable reward (different from the aristeiai) to a victorious general or commander. After that, soldiers might also receive a share of the spoils.87 In addition to this, individual soldiers might also have acquired items of booty through private plunder during the campaigns. According to a passage in Xenophon, when the Greek army rested in the camp, individuals were allowed to turn out to plunder privately and keep what they acquired. However, whenever the entire army set out, anything an individual got by plunder was to be public property.88 Nevertheless, the mechanisms of booty division are likely to have varied between cities and alliances; what is envisaged here cannot be taken as universal. Page 14 of 26

Military First Offerings For the process of division to have been smooth and effective, it was important that soldiers should willingly hand over the booty captured, and that no one should lay hands on the common stock. We may expect individuals to have been more inclined to cooperate if it was considered religiously correct to give the gods their due first. It is for this reason that Croesus expected the Persians to hand over the booty willingly to their king: when Sardis was being looted by the Persians, Croesus advised Cyrus to install guards at the city gates and take the spoils away from anyone trying to take them out of the city, on the pretext that a tenth of the spoils had to be offered to Zeus. In this way, Croesus supposed, the Persians would appreciate the rightness of this act and willingly hand over the spoils.89 The act of setting aside the gods’ share provided divine authority for the handing over of the spoils. (p.201) It also helped to prevent dissension by putting a curb on individual appropriation of valuables at least at the initial stage of division. By ascribing a ritual quality and a divine nature to what is otherwise a ‘profane’ matter, religious rituals have the potential to promote acceptance and compliance without the use of physical force.90 Differentiating and privileging the gods’ share first, followed by further division among the armies, might have been a strategy of control, exercised indirectly and unconsciously, over the participating forces. Another way in which military first offerings might have helped preserve harmony in the armies was by demonstrably abandoning a choice portion to a higher authority so that no one could claim it. This idea relates not to Gluckman but to Burkert’s ethological analysis. Burkert observes that an animal successful in the quest for food is prone to attacks by another, and that abandoning the prey is the only way to avoid catastrophe. In his view, demonstrative abandoning or giving away to a third party (such as the gods) in human societies is a similar strategy of preventing conflicts, since neither party can lay claim to the choicest portions.91 He illustrates this idea well with an episode in Arrian: when the army of Alexander the Great was crossing the Gedrosian desert and tormented by thirst, a party of his light infantry found a little water which they collected in a helmet and gave to Alexander, who then, in full view of his troops, poured the water into the sand: nobody had the privilege of drinking, and this preserved the solidarity of his army.92 Military first offerings might have had similar social functions: no one could claim the first portion of the spoils except the gods. Nevertheless, conflicts could still arise at any stage of booty collection and division. After Camillus successfully captured Veii, his attempt to pay the tithe as vowed to Pythian Apollo was met with great difficulties: not only were the people reluctant to return the booty to the state, there were also disputes in the senate as to what the tithe should consist of precisely.93 Despite Pausanias’ proclamation after Plataea that no one should touch the spoils of war, the helots, who were ordered to collect the booty, are said to have stolen a great quantity of valuables and sold them to the Aeginetans, though we do not hear of any resulting (p.202) conflict on this occasion.94 The instances of conflict over Page 15 of 26

Military First Offerings booty seen earlier also seem to suggest that dissension abounded in reality and that the strategy of control envisaged here was not necessarily effective. Assigning the fruits of war to the gods first was therefore a way of enhancing, but not a guarantee of, cohesion among the armies. The military first offerings in this chapter are remarkable in two respects when compared to other kinds of first offerings. First, their enormous value: they were made on a much larger scale than, and have brought us a long way from, the offerings of foodstuffs, seasonal produce, and personal earnings in the preceding chapters. Yet this willingness to expend huge sums on a first offering should not surprise us. Sharing the profits of war with the gods was consistent with the customary practice of returning to the gods a portion of whatever benefits were received. It was a way of discharging a city’s debt to the gods for its military success and its great wealth acquired in wars. Second, their quasi‐obligatory nature: in contrast to other contexts where it was a matter of individual choice whether or not to make a first offering and, if so, how much to offer, in the event of a successful campaign, it appears to have been strongly prescribed by convention for cities to give the gods a portion, usually a tenth. Although we cannot prove that each campaign that yielded booty would necessarily yield a preliminary share to the gods, the available evidence is so abundant that the practice must have been fairly common. Notes:

(1) Just. Epit. 20.3. On the oracle, see Parke and Wormell (1956), vol. 2, no. 76, Fontenrose (1978), 310, no. 127 (considered not genuine). (2) Almost all first offerings collectively made by a Greek city or cities were military in nature. The only non‐military ones publicly dedicated are: (1) Hdt. 3.57, Paus. 10.11.2: the Siphnians built a treasury in Delphi in obedience to Apollo’s oracle using a tithe of the revenue from their gold and silver mines; they continued to pay the tithe but when they neglected the payment their mines were flooded. (2) Vatin (1991), 55–6, Jacquemin (1999), 70–1, 342, no. 365, Cavaliere (2013), 18, with Strabo 6.1.15, 264: in perhaps the sixth century BC the Metapontines dedicated a θέρος (‘harvest’ or ‘crop’) as a tithe to Apollo at Delphi (θέρος ⋮ Μετα[π]όντ̣[ιοι] δεκάταν ⋮ τοπόλον[ι]). The object might have consisted of ears of corn made of gold, dedicated using a tithe of the city’s agricultural prosperity. (3) Paus. 5.27.9, 10.9.3–4: Corcyra dedicated a bronze bull in Delphi and another one in Olympia as a dekate of a large catch of tunnies, which was made possible through the guidance and subsequent sacrifice of a bull. (4) IG I3 101: Neapolis’ aparche (of unknown nature) to its Virgin goddess in the fifth century (see Chapter 7, n. 10). (5) Aparchai dispatched by sacred delegations to mother‐cities, Delos, Delphi, and Hellenistic cities holding new Panhellenic festivals (to be discussed in Chapter 7).

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Military First Offerings (3) Cf. the related practice of runaway slaves bringing the aparche of everything they had stolen (οἱ δραπέται ἀποφέρουσιν ἀπαρχὰς πάντων ὧν ἂν ἓλωνται) to the Chian hero, Drimakos, as related in Nymphodorus of Syracuse, FGrH 572 F 4 ap. Ath. 6. 265c–266e, with discussions in Graf (1985), 121–5 and Forsdyke (2012), 37 ff. (4) Instead of discussing all available examples one by one, I list here the military first offerings publicly dedicated in (a) Delphi: FD III.1, nos 130, 137, 289, 573, FD III.2, no. 1 (= IG I3 1463 B, ML 19), FD III.3, no. 150, FD III.4, nos 1–2, 184, 191, 208, 456, FD III.6, no. 60, Syll.3 35Bb, 40, 202B, Flacelière, BCH 54 (1930), 392–4, no. 1, Daux (1958), 329–34 = Lazzarini (1976), no. 987, Vatin (1981), 454–5 no. 1 (= SEG XXXI 558), Hdt. 8.121–2, 9.81, Dem. 12.21, Paus. 10.10.1–2, 10.11.6, 10.18.7; (b) Olympia: Kunze et al. (1937– ) , VIII, 88–9 = Lazzarini (1976), nos 704–5 (military? See below), IvO 253–6, 259, SEG XV 251, Paus. 5.23.7, 5.24.1, 5.27.12, 6.19.4; (c) local sanctuaries: see n. 58 below. (5) Military aparchai: Soph. Trach. 182–3, 760–2, Eur. Phoen. 857, Dem. 12.21, Paus. 9.4.1, 10.18.7, Lindos II, no. 2.C.76–8, no. 88, I.Pergamon nos 47 (= OGIS 281), 60. (6) Hdt. 8.121–2. Statue at Delphi: Rawlinson (1862), vol. 4, 352, followed by How and Wells (1928), vol. 2, 275, assumed this to be the statue of Apollo, described in Paus. 10.14.5 as a dedication from the naval spoils of Salamis and Artemisium, but Bowie (2007), 213, points out that Pausanias does not mention the ship’s prow. (7) Ships as dedications: e.g. Thuc. 2.84.4, 2.92.5, SEG IX 76 (three triremes as a dekate), Strabo 7.7.6, 325 (Caesar dedicated ten ships as an akrothinion). It was more common to cut part of a ship for dedication: e.g. Hdt. 3.59.3 (the boar‐ shaped prows of Samian ships), Vatin (1981), 454–5, no. 1 = SEG XXXI 558 (sails of Laconian ships as a dekate), Plut. Them. 15 (ensigns of Persian ships). Cf. Lindos II, no. 88 (a marble base representing the bow of a war galley). (8) At Hdt. 8.93.1, the Aeginetans won the first prize of valour at Salamis, and after them the Athenians. On aristeiai, see Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 2, 276–90, Robert (1985), 472–3. There were two kinds of aristeiai, awarded to the most distinguished city and individual respectively in a war. (9) Stein (1893–1908), accepted by Macan (1908) and followed by How and Wells (1928), conjectured that Apollo had given the Aeginetans a propitious sign, such as that given to Lysander at Aegospotami (Plut. Lys. 12.1, Cic. Div. 1.34.75); therefore Apollo claimed the credit for the victory at Salamis. (10) Bowie (2007), 213.

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Military First Offerings (11) Hdt. 9.80–1. Apollo’s share is referred to as a dekate in Hdt. 9.81 and as an akrothinion in Thuc. 1.132.2; but neither word appears in Syll.3 31, ML 27. See n. 37 for the names of cities inscribed on the serpent column. According to Paus. 5.23.1–3, the names of the participating states were also inscribed on the pedestal of the statue of Zeus at Olympia. (12) Macan (1908) envisaged all three possibilities. The English translations of Grene (1987) and Waterfield (1998) assume that each god received a full tithe. (13) It is unclear if ἓκαστοι (‘each’) in ἔλαβον ἓκαστοι τῶν ἄξιοι ἦσαν (‘each took the amount it deserved’) refers to individual soldiers or individual contingents. Here I follow Flower and Marincola (2002), 250, who think that context strongly suggests the latter. (14) The phrase πάντα δέκα (‘ten of everything’) is an idiomatic expression meaning ‘abundantly’: see commentary in Asheri, Lloyd, and Corcella (2007), 645 (with parallels). (15) Plut. Arist. 20.1–3, Plut. De malignitate Herodoti 873a–b. But Paus. 9.4.1 attributes the temple to the battle of Marathon instead of Plataea. The historicity of this quarrel, not mentioned in Herodotus, has been suspected: How and Wells (1928), vol. 2, 317, rejected this account as not genuine and ‘due to the late and untrustworthy Idomeneus’. (16) Hdt. 9.80–1. Cf. Macan (1908), vol. I.2, 763: ‘the spoils must have been valued, or even sold, before the tithe was actually handed over; unless we suppose that a rough estimate and division of spoils was made, and the tithes then converted into money.’ (17) Hdt. 8.27.4–5. The date of this combat is uncertain; How and Wells (1928), vol. 2, 242, suggested a date after 510 BC. For a full discussion of the conflicts between Thessaly and Phocis, see Macan (1908), vol. I.2, 393–5. (18) E.g. Xen. An. 7.7.56, Polyb. 4.77.5, 5.24.10; Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 5, 416– 38. (19) The mechanism of booty division is discussed in Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 1, 82–4, vol. 5, 363–438, Chaniotis (2005), 132–42. (20) IG I3 501, DAA nos 168, 173, ML 15. Hdt. 5.77 and Paus. 1.28.2 differ on the placement of the monument. (21) Or if we assume that an equal number of Chalcidians were captured and sold, the sum total and the dekate would be double the figures here. The sum of 200 drachmai (or two mnai) per prisoner may seem very large at first sight, but finds parallel in another passage, Hdt. 6.79.1: among the Peloponnesians, the price of ransom was fixed at two mnai per head at the beginning of the fifth Page 18 of 26

Military First Offerings century. On the ransom of captives, see Bielman (1994), esp. 233–4, 282–91, 300–1, Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 1, 77–82, vol. 5, 245–96. (22) Schol. Pind. Nem. 5.1; cf. IG II2 555, Diog. Laert. 6.35; Smith (2007), 101–2. Discussed in Chapter 5, n. 124. (23) Paus. 1.28.2 (dekate), 9.4.1 (aparche); but neither word appears in the very mutilated inscription IG I3 505, DAA no. 172. (24) Building accounts: Dinsmoor (1921), esp. 126 on the total cost. Dating: Dinsmoor (1921), 127, followed by Meritt (1936), 373, dated them to slightly earlier than the middle of the fifth century based on letter forms and in particular the three‐barred sigma (a dating criterion now rejected by Stroud (2006), esp. 34). Cf. Gill (2001), 269–74, who down‐dates them to a period extending from the 440s to 432, thus further lengthening the time lag between the battle and the monument’s construction. (25) Xen. Hell. 4.3.21, Ages. 1.34, Plut. Ages. 19.3. The verb ἀποθύειν can refer to a blood sacrifice in some contexts (e.g. Xen. An. 3.2.12, 4.8.25), but 100 talents seems incredibly large for animal sacrifice here. Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 1, 96, assumes this to be a sum of money; Casabona (1966), 95–6 (on the word ἀποθύειν), leaves the possibilities open; cf. Patera (2012), 26: sumptuous dedications. Discussed in Chapter 1, n. 82. (26) Of the monuments associated with Marathon, only the Athenian treasury at Delphi is described as an akrothinion in its inscription on stone; the other two (statue of Athena Promachos at Athens, statue group at Delphi) are described by Pausanias as first offerings. A temple of Eucleia at Athens is also said to have been built from the spoils at Marathon (Paus. 1.14.5), but is not described as a first offering. (27) FD III.2, no. 1, IG I3 1463 B, ML 19, Paus. 10.11.5. The main arguments on its controversial dating are summarized in ML 19 with addenda and Rups (1986), 132–7. On the Athenian treasury, see Partida (2000 [1996]), 48–70, Scott (2010), 77–81. The inscribed base once supported a group of bronze statues, and it has been suggested that the inscription referred not to the treasury, but the statue group, and that the statues were moved to the eastern entrance of the sanctuary later (on which see Raubitschek (1974) and the following note). (28) Paus. 10.10.1–2; Bousquet (1942–3), 132–5, Vatin (1991), 165–83. (29) E.g. Harrison, (1965), 11 n. 68, and Gauer (1980) think that the loot gathered at Marathon would scarcely have been enough to meet the expenses of these monuments. (30) Miller (1997), 38–9. Page 19 of 26

Military First Offerings (31) Xen. An. 5.3.4–13, with discussions in Purvis (2003), ch. 4, Parker (2004b), 137–8 and n. 20, Tuplin (2004b). (32) It is disputed whether Megabyxus (also spelt Magabyzus) was a personal name or a priestly title: see Smith (1996), LiDonnici (1999), Bremmer (2004), (2008), 38–42. (33) Treasuries could serve to house and display future offerings to the gods from citizens of the state, and may be regarded as ‘active’ offerings: see Rups (1986), 253–6, Neer (2001) and (2004). (34) Bremmer (2008), 39, suggests that Megabyxos might have been involved in Xenophon’s founding of this shrine and must have contributed to Xenophon’s prestige. (35) Bruit Zaidman (2005a), 105–6. (36) Thuc. 1.132.2–3, Plut. De malignitate Herodoti 873c–d. Cf. the couplet in Diod. Sic. 11.33.2 (generally considered to be not genuine). Cf. also Hdt. 1.51.3: Croesus’ gold sprinkling‐vessel (perirranterion) in Delphi was reinscribed by a Delphian to say that it was dedicated by the Lacedaemonians. (37) The eventual inscription (Syll.3 31 = ML 27), engraved on the coils of the snakes, consists of the names of the participating states in the war, but not all the names agree with Herodotus’ account, and some were inscribed after it was dedicated. From this arises the question of whether this was a memorial of the battle of Plataea or the whole Persian war. This is discussed in ML 27 with addenda, How and Wells (1928), vol. 2, 321–4. (38) Currie (2005), 197–9. His argument is based on Simonides’ elegy (first published in Parsons (1992) ) on the victory at Plataea, which uses language similar to that in Pausanias’ dedicatory epigram. (39) The formulae of military dedicatory inscriptions are studied by Jacquemin (2000), 155 ff. See also Lonis (1979), esp. 271–7, on the role of offerings and dedicatory inscriptions in victory commemoration. (40) Pl. Resp. 469e–470a. See similarly Plut. De Pyth. or. 401c–d. (41) Max. Tyr., Dissertations, 24.5 Hobein: πρῶτοι δὲ τῶν ἐκ γῆς καρπῶν τοῖς δεδωκόσιν θεοῖς ἀπαρξάμενοι· οἷς εἰκος χαίρειν τοὺς θεοὺς μᾶλλον ἤ Παυσανίᾳ τὴν δεκάτην ἀποθύοντι ἤ Λυσάνδρῳ τὴν δεκάτην ἀνατιθέντι. Pausanias’ dekate (or rather his attempt to appropriate the Greeks’ collective dekate) is mentioned in Thuc. 1.132, but I do not know of a dekate from Lysander: Maximus’ words need not be taken at face value. (42) Scott (2010), 33 n. 24 (with bibliography). Page 20 of 26

Military First Offerings (43) The monument is studied in detail by K. Herrmann (1972), with reconstruction at 254, fig. 14; see also H. V. Herrmann (1972), 159–60, Mallwitz and Herrmann (1980), 189–91. A very similar monument appears to have been dedicated as a dekate at Delphi; see reconstruction in Jacquemin and Laroche (1982), 191–204, with fig. 1 (FD III.4, nos 1–2, SEG XXXII 550). (44) IG V.1 1568, IvO 259, ML 74, Paus. 5.26.1. Scholarship differs on which war was meant and whether the monument dates to the mid‐fifth century or the 420s. Paus. 5.26.1 thinks that it commemorated the Messenians’ war with Acarnania and Oeniadae (c. 455), but because of fear of Sparta, they connected it with their participation in the Athenian exploits at Sphacteria in 425. Cf. ML 74: more probably all the Messenian operations in support of Athens during the whole Archidamian War. (45) Spartan dedication: IvO 253, ML 36, Paus. 5.10.4, Boardman (1985), 33. See Scott (2010), passim, on the ‘spatial politics’ of Panhellenic shrines, and 195–6 on the rivalry between the Messenian Nike and the Spartan dedication. (46) IG I3 501A, B, ML 15 A, B. Base A (DAA no. 168) is dated to c.506 BC, base B (DAA no. 173) to c.455–450 BC. The restored inscriptions are identical on both bases, but transposed on the second base. (47) Raubitschek in DAA, no. 173, proposed a date after the battle at Oenophyta (c.457); supported by ML 15 with addenda. Others associate it with the Euboean revolt in 446. On monuments as ‘mnemonic devices’ to help evoke and solidify memory that is otherwise fluid and temporary, see Connerton (1989), 1–31, Halbwachs (1992), Alcock (2002), Steinbock (2013), 84–94 (on Athenian social memory). (48) Aeschin. In Ctes. 116. This is one of the events leading up to the so‐called Fourth Sacred War. The incident is discussed in Parke (1939b), 71–8, Bonner and Smith (1943), 3, Roux (1979), 30–3, Bommelaer and Bommelaer (1983). (49) On religious rites in military contexts, see e.g. Launey (1987), 875–1000, Jameson (1991), Parker (2000). (50) Xen. Cyr. 4.1.2 (charisteria, after routing the Assyrians), 5.3.2, 5.3.4 (after another success against the Assyrians), 7.3.1 (after the sack of Sardis), 7.5.35 (dekate, after taking Babylon). (51) The Attalids’ charisteria: e.g. OGIS 269, 273, 280, 328; aparche: I.Pergamon nos. 47 (= OGIS 281), 60. See also Diod. Sic. 11.33.2, where the Greeks’ golden tripod resting on the serpent column is described as a charisterion to the god at Delphi after Plataea. (52) Hdt. 8.121–2. Page 21 of 26

Military First Offerings (53) Xen. Cyr. 4.1.2–4: πρῶτον μὲν τοὺς θεοὺς ἐγὼ ἐπαινῶ ὅσον δύναμαι, καὶ ὑμεῖς δὲ πάντες, οἶμαι· νίκης τε γὰρ τετυχήκαμεν καὶ σωτηρίας. τούτων μὲν οὖν χρὴ χαριστήρια ὧν ἂν ἔχωμεν τοῖς θεοῖς ἀποτελεῖν. Cyrus’ command to separate the gods’ share is carried out in 4.5.14. (54) E.g. I.Pergamon no. 165. On military vows, see Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 3, 230–9. (55) IG XIV 268, ML 38 with addenda. It is disputed whether the sixty talents refer to the value (favoured by Meiggs and Lewis) or the weight in gold, and whether the dedication relates to a specific victory or a period of Selinuntian security and prosperity. See discussions in Ampolo (1984), Musti (1985), Manganaro (1995a) (= SEG XLV 1414), Brugnone (1999) (= SEG XLIX 1328). Cf. IG XII.5 913: in the second century BC a group of Rhodian soldiers set up a dedication (not a first offering) on Tenos to as many as ten deities on the instruction of the Delphic oracle. (56) Dem. 24.120, 129. Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 1, 93, vol. 3, 241. Likewise Jacquemin (2000), 154, speaks of a ‘law’ imposed at Athens based on this passage. (57) Just. Epit. 20.3. (58) Athenian acropolis: IG I3 501 (with Hdt. 5.77, Paus. 1.28.2), 505 (with Dem. 19.272, Paus. 1.28.2, 9.4.1), IG II2 2789; Lindian acropolis: Lindos II, no. 2.B.57– 9, 79, 113–16, C.12–13, 57–8, 76–8, 80–3 (entries in the Lindian Chronicle), no. 88, no. 291; Amyclae: Paus. 3.18.7–8, 4.14.2; Argos: a tithe to Hera ἀπὸ τõ πολέμο is mentioned in some of the bronze tablets recently discovered at the archive at Argos (mentioned in Kritzas (2006), 407, 411); Cyrene: SEG IX 76–7, Suppl. epigr. ciren. 132a; Pergamum: I.Pergamon nos 47, 60; Phocaea: Riemann, BCH 1 (1877), 84, no. 17 = Graf (1985), 467 no. 1. (59) Thuc. 3.50. For other evidence of land allotment to the gods by the Athenians, see e.g. Ael. VH 6.1, Agora XIX pp. 171–5, L2–3, collected and discussed in Polinskaya (2009), esp. 250–1. On the practice of setting apart temene in newly acquired land to the gods, see Meiggs (1972), 295–6, Malkin (1987), 138–41, Isager and Skydsgaard (1992), 182–4. (60) On leasing sacred land, see Osborne (1988), esp. 281–304, Isager and Skydsgaard (1992), ch. 8, Papazarkadas (2011). (61) Xen. An. 5.3.4–13. (62) Arms and armour: Kunze et al. (1937–), VIII, 88–9 = Lazzarini (1976), nos 704–5, IvO 253 (= ML 36), 254–6, Paus. 6.19.4, 10.11.6. Animal sacrifice: Soph. Trach. 760–2. Captives in myths: Diod. Sic. 4.66.5, Eur. Phoen. 202–15, 282. There is to my knowledge no historical example of human captives dedicated as Page 22 of 26

Military First Offerings first offerings: the gods might be given a portion of the proceeds from the sale of captives, but not the captives themselves. Diod. Sic. 11.65.5, on the Argive capture of Mycenae in 486 BC, mentions a dekate from the Mycenaeans (δεκάτη ἐξ αὐτῶν). This involves not an ἀνθρώπων δεκάτη as Malkin (1987), 38, thinks, but a tithe of the money from the sale of captives. The latter interpretation is supported by Ducrey (1968), 132, and Ducat (1974), 103 n. 3. See also Appendix (on human first offerings in colonization traditions). (63) There is no lack of arms and armour dedicated in Greek sanctuaries, see Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 3, 240–95, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 298–302, cf. Rouse (1902), 111–16, but few are described as first offerings (listed in n. 62 above). It is unclear whether the bronze greave and tetragonal pole dedicated as akrothinia in Olympia (both anonymous, sixth and fifth century respectively) were from an individual or a city; their find‐spot in Olympia makes the latter more probable but is not decisive: Kunze et al. (1937–), VIII, 88–9 = Lazzarini (1976), nos 704– 5. (64) Tuchelt (1970), 56, 117–18 K 9 bis fig. 24 pl. 14, Lazzarini (1976), no. 692, Jeffery (1990), LSAG2, 473, H, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 277, no. 33. Tuchelt (1970), 118, takes this to be a private dedication and cites examples of individuals whose name ends in ‐es in Didyma. (65) If ἔχε[ε] is read, it most probably comes from χέω (‘I pour’) and not ἔχω (‘I have’). The plural τἀγάλματα̣ seems to suggest that the object was part of a set or one among several dedications. (66) I.Didyma no. 7, Syll.3 3g, Jeffery (1990), LSAG2, 334, 343, no. 30, ThesCRA, vol. 1, 309, 311, no. 184, I.Estremo Oriente no. 172, Rougemont (2012), no. 1, c. 550–525 BC (?). The last sentence of the Greek text differs slightly in different editions; here I follow I.Didyma no. 7. The object is generally believed to have been carried off from the sanctuary of Apollo in Didyma to Susa by the Persians. (67) On λείο as booty: LSJ s.v. λήïον: 3. ‘= λεία, booty, SIG 3g (Susa, from Didyma, v B.C.)’; ‘booty’ is the translation used in Parke (1985), 31, 229 n. 14, and Eidinow (2007), 54; λείο as agricultural produce: Wilamowitz‐Moellendorff (1906), 639 n. 3, Dittenberger in Syll.3 3g, LSJ s.v. λήïον: 2. ‘corn‐field’; cf. IG I3 800 (δεκάτη χοριόω). Other views: Bravo (1980), 833–5 (= SEG XXX 1290), interprets this as a tithe from commercial profit made by aristocrats by analogy with Hdt. 4.152, but his view is not supported by contextual information. Manganaro (1995b) (= SEG XLV 1566) envisages both possibilities: a commercial tithe or a tithe of harvest. (68) Discussed in Parke (1985), 30–2, Eidinow (2007), 54–5, Greaves (2012), esp. 194–5.

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Military First Offerings (69) IG VII 37, Jeffery (1990), LSAG2, 136–7, no. 8 (sixth or fifth century BC, Megara). (70) SEG IX 77 (third century, Cyrene). The editors of SEG IX date it to the third century, but later studies date it to the fourth century on the grounds of letter forms and/or prosopography: Masson (1976), 50 n. 10 (SEG XXVI 1831, c.330 BC), Applebaum (1979), 40 n. 220 (SEG XXIX 1673), Laronde (1987), 52–8 (SEG XXXVIII 1892, c. 350–325). (71) I.Pergamon no. 62a, see also I.Pergamon no. 165 for another troop’s akrothinion in fulfilment of a vow (both second century, Pergamum). (72) Lindos II, no. 88, Gabrielsen (1997), 109–11. (73) Naval commander: Lindos II, no. 291, IG XII.1, 41.6, LGPN I s.v. Αὐτοκράτης (13). Aristis: SEG IX 76, Tod II no. 203, Laronde (1987), 66–9. Cilician: JHS 12 (1891), 263–4, no. 49. See also Eupolemos’ dedication of an andron as a dekate in SEG LVIII 1211, probably from some military combat (discussed in Chapter 5). (74) Philon: Daux (1939), 145, fig. 3, IG V.2 p. 69. Athenaios: Daux (1939), 146. (75) E.g. IG IX.1 131 (ἐξ ὁσίων ἔργων ἀκροθίν̣[ιον]); see Chapter 1. (76) Momigliano (1966a). War as a means of self‐enrichment: Austin (1993), 206– 8 (with sources and bibliography). Value of booty: Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 1, 75– 6, vol. 5, 499–504. (77) Hom. Il. 1.121 ff.: Agamemnon intended to seize Achilles’ slave‐girl Briseis, given to Achilles as a prize, to replace Chryseis, when all the spoils had already been distributed. On the mechanism of booty distribution in the Homeric world, see Van Wees (1992), appendix iv, 299–310; but principles of division in the Homeric world may not have been applied to later periods. (78) Xen. Hell. 3.5.5: πάλαι ὀργιζόμενοι αὐτοῖς τῆς τε ἀντιλήψεως τῆς τοῦ Ἀπόλλωνος δεκάτης ἐν Δεκελείᾳ (‘for they had long been angry with them (the Thebans) about the claim to the tithe to Apollo at Decelea’). Xenophon’s allusion to Decelea is difficult to understand: neither Just. Epit. 5.10.12 nor Plut. Lys. 27.2 mentions Decelea or Apollo; Breitenbach proposes the plausible emendation τῆς ἐκ λείας for ἐν Δεκελείᾳ. Parke (1932), 42–6, suggested that a Spartan harmost in Decelea was entrusted with the dekate for Apollo, but did not explain what the dispute was. Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 5, 374, suggested that the dedication for Apollo was not made in the name of the Thebans and it was the lack of recognition at Delphi that humiliated them. It remains unclear whether the Theban claim concerns their own share of the booty from the war (as in Just. Epit. 5.10.12), or the dekate to the god, or whether there were two separate claims.

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Military First Offerings (79) Xen. Hell. 4.1.26–8 (Paphlagonians and Spithridates), Diod. Sic. 18.20.1 (Thibron), Polyb. 2.19.3 (Aetolians), 5.25.1–3 (Philip V). For more examples of dissension over division of spoils, see e.g. Xen. Hell. 3.5.12, Diod. Sic. 13.62.5, Polyb. 5.107.6, 18.27.4; Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 5, 373–5. (80) Gluckman (1938). (81) Hdt. 9.80–1. (82) Xen. Cyr. 4.5.14, 4.5.51, 4.6.11, 5.3.2, 5.3.4, 7.3.1, 7.5.35. (83) See ‘separating the gods’ share’ in Section I above. (84) Treaties containing clauses on booty allocation among contingents abounded especially in Hellenistic Crete: e.g. I.Cret. I viii 4 (= ML 42B), I xvi 5, I xix 1, III iii 3A–B, 4, IV 180, 182; most of these are discussed with commentary in Chaniotis (1996). Other examples are collected in Aymard (1957), Garlan (1977), 158–64, Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 5, 363–73. See also Perlman (2010): a newly joined composite Cretan text in the late Archaic period contains two references to dekaton and preserves part of what might have been the earliest interstate agreement between Cretan cities concerning booty division. The word dekaton refers perhaps to the gods’ share, though we cannot rule out the possibility that a literal tenth to a city is meant. (85) According to merit: e.g. Hdt. 9.81.1, Xen. Cyr. 7.5.35; size of contingents: e.g. Diod. Sic. 11.25.1, 11.33.1. Note that Hdt. 9.81.1 and Diod. Sic. 11.33.1 differ on how booty was divided after Plataea. (86) But this appears to have taken place at no fixed stage: e.g. after Salamis, the aristeiai for the city (Aegina) and individuals were awarded immediately at Salamis (Hdt. 8.93) before the gods’ share was set aside (Hdt. 8.121–2). But at Plataea, the aristeiai were allocated after the gods’ share was separated (Hdt. 9.81, Diod. Sic. 11.33.1). Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 2, 276–90, does not explain at which stage aristeiai were normally awarded. (87) General or commander: e.g. Thuc. 3.114.1, Plut. Cleom. 19.4; Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 2, 126–32. Soldiers’ share: Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 5, 375–98. (88) Xen. An. 6.6.2. On private plunder, see also Xen. Hell. 1.2.5 (κατὰ τὰς ἰδίας λείας). (89) Hdt. 1.89. (90) On the power of ritualization, see e.g. Bell (1992), chs 7–9. (91) Burkert (1979), 53–4, (2001–11), vol. 5, 87. (92) Arr. Anab. 6.26.2–3. Page 25 of 26

Military First Offerings (93) Liv. 5.21.1–2, 23.8–11, 25.4–13. (94) Hdt. 9.80.

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A Network of Aparchai

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

A Network of Aparchai Religion, Politics, and Power Theodora Suk Fong Jim

DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.003.0008

Abstract and Keywords This chapter examines the wider network of theoric activities criss-crossing the Greek world, through which aparchai and dekatai were dispatched to distant sanctuaries by sacred delegates known as theoroi. It explores how the bringing of first offerings, traditionally a form of human–divine interaction, was exploited in some political situations as a way of maintaining interstate relations, most notably those between a mother-city and its colonies. Comparable practices in Polynesian societies and anthropological studies of gift-giving are drawn on to offer a new interpretation of the Eleusinian first-fruits decree. Similar mechanisms that might have been at work in the relations of other cities are also discussed. One of the most interesting observations that emerges is the different ways and varying degrees of intensity with which first offerings tied dedicators and recipients together, whether human or divine. Keywords:   theoroi, network, mother-city, colonies, Eleusis, interstate relations, Polynesian societies, anthropological

This chapter investigates the offering of aparchai as a means of creating and maintaining relations between giver and recipient, whether human or divine. Dispatched to the gods by sacred delegates known as theoroi, these aparchai were destined for distant shrines, which might be cult places of Panhellenic, regional, or local importance.1 Section I discusses the aparchai sent by colonies or subjects to their mother‐city or a hegemonic power, whether of the city’s own accord or in fulfilment of some obligation. Section II examines the aparchai sent Page 1 of 44

A Network of Aparchai to the prestigious cult centres of Delos and Delphi. Both phenomena can be traced to the Classical and possibly the Archaic periods, but the Hellenistic period saw new developments: aparchai came to be conferred on monarchs, and monetary aparchai were sent to cities holding the so‐called new Panhellenic festivals. These different first offerings formed a theoric network criss‐crossing the Greek world, by which religious and political relations were constantly established and reinforced.

I. First offerings in interstate relations The bringing of first offerings, as we have seen, was traditionally a form of interaction between men and gods. In some political contexts, (p.204) however, the religious custom could be deployed as a way of maintaining interstate relations. Already in the fifth century we find cities dispatching aparchai and dekatai to their mother‐city or a hegemonic power, some by compulsion, others spontaneously. I shall make use of Maurice Godelier’s idea of ‘debt’, summarized already at some length in Chapter 2, to explain how some political powers played on the idea of debt to generate a sense of duty and possibly to derive material resources from other cities by demanding aparchai for their gods. Instead of acting as a mere intermediary between the dedicating city and the divine recipient, we shall see how some cities took on a status similar to that of the gods. We shall begin with the Athenian empire, the most elaborate example of the phenomenon we are dealing with here, and then examine whether similar mechanisms might have been at work in the relations of other Greek cities. Aparchai of allied tribute

In the fifth century members of the Athenian empire contributed two kinds of aparchai, namely the aparche of allied tribute to Athena, and the aparchai of wheat and barley to the Eleusinian goddesses. Epigraphic records show that from 454/3 BC onwards—that is, presumably when the treasury of the Delian League was relocated from Delos to Athens2—one‐sixtieth of the tribute (φόρος) paid by the Athenian allies was offered to Athena at Athens as an aparche. Athena’s share was recorded annually (with one exception) on the so‐called Tribute Quota Lists put up on the Athenian acropolis.3 From the prescript restored in the first list in 454/3 BC, and the formula ‘the following cities paid an aparche to the goddess, a mna from the talent’ (ℎαίδε ἀπέδοσαν ἀπαρχὲν τει θεõι μνᾶν ἀπὸ τὸ ταλάντο) in several of the subsequent lists,4 we know that the aparche was a mna from the talent (sixty mnai), that is, one‐sixtieth of the tribute. That the so‐called (p.205) Athenian Tribute Lists should record not the phoros itself but the one‐sixtieth of it is intriguing: it is as if to emphasize the sacred nature of the payment and to make it sound less oppressive. We have no evidence that a monetary aparche was paid by members of the Delian League between the League’s formation in 478/7 and 454/3: in this period some allies paid a monetary contribution called phoros, whereas others contributed ships.5 If Chankowski is right in suggesting that a similar aparche Page 2 of 44

A Network of Aparchai had been paid to Apollo on Delos,6 the aparche might have been initially a collective offering of the Delian League, payable perhaps in return for Apollo’s protection of the League’s funds (entrusted to his treasury) and in order to reinforce religious ties with Delian Apollo. It would therefore seem natural that the aparche was transferred to Athena when the tribute came to be placed under the goddess’s protection.7 Accordingly, we need not see Athena’s share of the tribute as an Athenian imperialist invention, though the aparche seems to have assumed a very different character and a new symbolic significance during the Athenian empire, as we shall see shortly. On the other hand, if the aparche did not previously exist for Apollo, it was most likely Athenian initiative that prompted the one‐sixtieth of tribute to Athena after 454/3, in keeping with their customary practice of sharing the city’s benefits with their patron goddess. What might have been the Athenians’ voluntary decision to share the tribute with their goddess was nevertheless presented as a fixed obligation for their allies. The publication on stone of the aparche received, and the display of the massive monumental stelai on the acropolis, presented the payments to Athena as a serious religious obligation. Unlike the traditional aparchai (such as of crops and spoils), which constituted a portion of a greater whole, the rest of which was retained, here the aparche was a portion payable by the allies together with the rest of the tribute. In other words, the allies (p.206) were obliged to pay both an aparche of the tribute and the tribute itself. Despite a notional distinction between phoros and aparche, one wonders how the allies perceived the difference (if any) between the two. From the allies’ point of view, it was perhaps politically and fiscally irrelevant whether the money sent to Athens was termed phoros or aparche and what proportion went to the goddess, and it was doubtless with ambivalent feelings that they made both payments. The ambiguity between political and religious obligation is seen most clearly in cases where some allies were exempted from the phoros. In the 420s, Methone, Aphytis, and two Thracian communities, Haison and Dicaia, were allowed to pay only the aparche and to remit the remainder of the tribute.8 Such cities were listed under the special rubric ‘the following cities paid the aparche itself’ (ℎαίδε τõν πόλεον αὐτὲν τὲν ἀπαρχὲν ἀπέγαγον).9 The insistence that Athena’s share should be paid even when the rest was remitted is open to interpretation. It may have been a pious fulfilment of a religious obligation and a rigorous protection of the goddess’s right; yet it may also have been a means of maintaining the symbolic dependence of the cities on Athens. It is tempting to see the aparche to Athena as a signifier of Athens’ dominance over its subject‐allies, so that any remittance would be detrimental to its (or its goddess’s?) honour.10 (p.207) For Methone and other communities similarly exempted from the larger phoros, the aparche ceased to be a part of the phoros, but became the phoros or an obligatory ‘payment’ itself, albeit a much reduced one. Though addressed to

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A Network of Aparchai Athena in name, in practice it is unclear whether the allies were paying to Athena or to Athens. This conflation between political and religious obligations is a theme that will recur constantly in this chapter. Whether demanded through genuine piety, political exploitation, or a combination of both, Athena’s aparche needs to be seen together with other religio‐political means of exerting power in the context of Athenian imperialism: that the City Dionysia should be made the occasion for the presentation of tribute, and the Panathenaic year for its reassessment and the receipt of a cow and panoply, all belong to similar attempts to strengthen political ties by enforcing religious participation.11 The Eleusinian first‐fruits decree

This aparche of tribute probably lasted until 413 BC, when Athens replaced the tribute with a five per cent tax (εἰκοστή or one‐twentieth) on all imports and exports through the ports of its subject‐allies (οἱ ὑπήκοοι).12 Nevertheless, even though an aparche of tribute ceased to be paid, another kind of aparche was implemented, (p.208) and this time involved even more states. In the late fifth century the Athenians issued the well‐known Eleusinian first‐fruits decree,13 which required the Athenians and their allies, and invited other Greeks outside the arche, to send aparchai of their harvest to the two goddesses at Eleusis. The aparchai were to involve no less than one‐sixth of a medimnos of barley from each 100 medimnoi (1/600), and no less than one‐twelfth of a medimnos of wheat from each 100 medimnoi (1/1,200). Unlike the tribute aparchai (1/60) to Athena, which concerned the Athenian allies only, all other Greeks were encouraged—as opposed to the allies who were obliged—to send first‐fruits, making the decree a Panhellenic invitation. Apart from wheat and barley, provisions appear to have been made also for aparchai of olive oil, but implementation of this proposal is not attested and most probably it was not put into effect.14 The date of the Eleusinian first‐fruits decree has long been a subject of dispute. Kallet suggests that the Eleusinian aparchai might have been instituted in 413 BC as a replacement for the monetary aparche which ceased to be paid when allied tribute was abolished.15 However, the decree is very unlikely to have been issued at a time when the Greeks were at war and when Athens was preoccupied with the Sicilian expedition. It is hard to imagine this Panhellenic proclamation appealing to the cities hostile to Athens during the Peloponnesian War. More probably it was at the height of its political hegemony and in a context of relative peace that Athens could make this invitation. One possibility would therefore be a date in the 430s, before the war broke out.16 Alternatively, might the decree have been complementary to, or followed shortly, the so‐called Peace of Nicias in 421 BC? The seer Lampon, who moved the rider to this decree, was the first Athenian signatory of the Peace of Nicias and the alliance with Sparta which followed.17 Since hostilities broke out (p.209) again in 418, it was

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A Network of Aparchai probably in conjunction with or shortly after the conclusion of the Peace that the decree was proclaimed. The decree claims three times that the practice was κατὰ τὰ πάτρια καὶ τὲν μαντείαν τὲν ἐγ Δελφõν (‘in accordance with ancestral customs and the oracle in Delphi’).18 What precisely the ‘ancestral customs’ refer to is not made explicit, but as was discussed in Chapter 3, the decree might have been drawing on a pre‐existing association between agricultural aparchai and the Eleusinian Proerosia, and extending this to Greece at large. As for the Delphic oracle alluded to, its date, content, and historicity are all obscure.19 What is more or less certain is that, by reiterating that the custom was prescribed by oracular instruction and ancestral tradition, the Athenians could enhance the decree’s authority and promote acceptance of it.20 The requirement that aparchai should be sent by the Greeks at large has traditionally been interpreted as a religio‐political measure to reassert Athens’ standing in the Greek world. Mylonas suggested that the cult at Eleusis could have been ‘the instrument for the unification of the Greeks under the hegemony of Athens, whose prominence in activities of lasting value and of cultural renown would be enhanced by the undertakings at Eleusis’. Meiggs thought that ‘the decree was devised for the greater glory of Athens’, and that Athens was invoking religion ‘to support her claims to rule’. Hornblower cites this decree as one of several examples where ‘religion was used by the Athenians as a propaganda device inside their empire and even as an instrument of oppression and expropriation’.21 However, (p.210) I shall argue that the decree’s significance was twofold: not only was the contribution of the grain ideologically important, but it might also carry real economic significance for the democracy. The potential economic benefits that might result from the successful implementation of the decree are hinted at, first, by the complex arrangements made for the envisaged grain, and second, by comparison with similar measures in Attica and other parts of Greece. According to the decree, at Athens the demarchs were responsible for collecting the grain deme by deme, whereas allied cities were to choose collectors (ἐγλογεῖς) to manage its collection and delivery to Athens. As we saw in Chapter 3, it is nowhere stated explicitly on what occasion and how the aparchai were to be sent from other cities,22 but the transport of crops to Eleusis would suggest theoria involving state delegations of some sort.23 The hieropoioi were the ones who were to receive the grain, record its weight, and arrange for its storage in three new siroi, the construction of which suggests that a large quantity of aparchai was anticipated.24 From the proceeds of its sale, the officials were to perform sacrifices and dedicate anathemata to the two goddesses with the remaining proceeds. In a manner strikingly reminiscent of the recording of the tribute aparche on stone, these anathemata would be engraved with the name of the contributing cities and with the statement that they were dedicated ‘from the aparchai of the crops’ (ἀπὸ τõ Page 5 of 44

A Network of Aparchai καρπõ τε̑ς ἀπαρχε̑ς), in addition to two (other) records of the received grain set up at Eleusis and Athens.25 The dedication of inscribed anathemata was imitated by members of the Panhellenion in the second century AD: Eleusinian inscriptions record dedications by the Panhellenes ‘from the aparche of Demeter’s crop’ (ἐκ τῆς τοῦ Δημητρίου καρποῦ ἀπαρχῆς).26 (p.211) We are not told the procedures by which the grain was sold; its sale most probably involved price‐fixing by the assembly, as it did in the fourth century. We learn from IG II2 1672, a record of the Eleusinian aparchai in 329/8 BC, that the Eleusinian grain collected this year was sold (after some was set aside for various purposes) at prices fixed by the assembly and apparently below the market price.27 Noting that 329/8 was a year of a serious food shortage at Athens,28 Jameson postulated that the agricultural aparchai were sold to meet cult expenses in normal circumstances, but could function as a communal grain reserve in emergency. Just as the goddess’s money in the sacred treasury could be borrowed in exceptional circumstances, so the wheat and barley could be consumed in times of food shortage.29 Jameson is the only scholar to have considered the decree’s practical economic benefits to my knowledge. However, we need not suppose as Jameson did that the grain provided a public source of grain only in crises: even in normal circumstances the grain received could have been sold to the people at a fixed price. The Eleusinian first‐fruits decree may be compared to the Athenian grain‐tax law of 374/3 BC.30 It is generally agreed that the law converted two pre‐existing taxes in cash, a dodekate (one‐twelfth or 8.3 per cent) and a pentekoste (one‐ fiftieth or two per cent), into the same taxes in kind. The dodekate was most probably a tax on agricultural produce,31 imposed on wheat and barley harvested by the Athenian clerouchoi on Lemnos, Imbros, and Skyros. The law lays down elaborate provisions for the tax‐farmers (οἱ πριάμενοι) to transport the grain to Athens, weigh it, and store it in the newly renovated (p.212) temenos of Aeacus in the Athenian Agora. A new board of ten men was to be elected each year to supervise the grain’s storage, weighing, quality, and public sale at a price set by the assembly, and the proceeds were to go to the stratiotic fund. These provisions are strikingly similar to those made for the Eleusinian first‐fruits: in both cases a fixed ratio of the total grain produced was levied in kind, collected by state officials, stored in a granary specially built for the purpose, and sold at a price set by the assembly. The aim of the law, as expressly stated at the beginning, was ‘in order that the people may have grain publicly available’ (lines 5–6). Stroud suggests that this law might have been proposed with a view to providing a constant supply of public grain (δημόσιος σῖτος), complementing the private grain in the market (ὁ ἐν ἀγορᾷ σῖτος), and takes this as ‘the earliest surviving evidence at Athens for direct action taken by the polis to provide its citizens with a regular annual supply of wheat and barley’. Although the proportion of grain laid down is much smaller, the Eleusinian decree similarly constitutes a state‐imposed produce tax in kind, and may be Page 6 of 44

A Network of Aparchai thought of as an antecedent of the fourth‐century Athenian grain‐tax law, likewise intended to increase the supply of public grain.32 State interventions to make grain publicly available for the people are also attested epigraphically in different parts of the Greek world.33 Particularly worthy of our attention is the Samian grain law in the second century BC. The text consists of a grain law with a long list of citizens and the sums contributed by each, which would be used for setting up a grain fund.34 Each chiliastys (a subunit of the tribe) was to elect a meledonos who would lend out a share of the fund and then collect the principal and interest. The interest received was to be turned over to a board of two men in charge of grain (οἱ ἐπὶ τοῦ σίτου). These officials were to buy the goddess’s (presumably Hera’s) grain from the eikoste (twentieth or five per cent tax) measured out (p.213) from the territory of Anaia,35 paying to the goddess a price no less than five drachmai and two obols as previously fixed by the demos (lines 20–7). The land in Anaia refers to sacred land under Samian control located in Asia Minor to the east of Samos, and the eikoste appears to have been an agricultural produce tax payable to the goddess.36 The grain purchased would then be distributed to the citizens for free, at the rate of two measures37 a month (on the first ten days each month) for each citizen, for as many months as the grain would last (lines 52–7). The decree is illuminating to us in two respects: it provides another possible example where a procedure was established to make grain available for the people for at least part of the year,38 and it also shows that the portion of grain belonging to the goddess, here the eikoste, could be used as a public grain reserve for the people. Might the collection of Eleusinian aparchai have been intended as a comparable measure to increase the amount of grain available to the Athenians by bringing additional and free grain into Attica from other parts of Greece? Athens’ claim to the Panhellenic contribution of aparchai to the two goddesses was based ideologically on the mission of Triptolemus. Tradition had it that Demeter’s gift of corn first appeared at Eleusis and was distributed by Triptolemus to the rest of mankind.39 Godelier’s idea of ‘original debt’ provides a useful way of conceptualizing the Eleusinian first‐fruits: by stressing Triptolemus’ mission in mythical times, from the outset all the Greeks, and not just the allies, were rendered indebted to Athens (and its mythical hero). It was therefore natural that all Greek cities should (p.214) (p.215) send a portion of their harvest to Eleusis in gratitude for Athens’ beneficence. A debt was further created each time a city reaped a bountiful harvest: every successful harvest provided a cause for rendering thanks to Athens and the two goddesses. Further benefactions could be hoped for if one duly observed the cult practice, as the decree says: ‘for those who do this may there be many benefits in fruitful and abundant

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A Network of Aparchai harvests, as long as they do not wrong either the Athenians, or the city of the Athenians, or the two goddesses.’40

Although in name Athens was collecting the aparchai for the two goddesses, in practice it is ambiguous whether it was to the two goddesses or to Athens that the aparchai were sent. Athens, it may be said, was not a mere intermediary collecting the first‐fruits on behalf of Demeter and Kore, but had taken on the goddesses’ divine role as a dispenser of agricultural prosperity and wealth. As Aelius Aristides puts it, Athens is the ‘mother‐city of the crops’ (μητρόπολις τῶν καρπῶν) for all the Greeks.41 The salient point about an ‘original debt’ is that, as Godelier argues, it can never be fully repaid by any counter‐gifts; therefore the Greeks were laid under a perpetual duty to their divine benefactors. This never‐ ending obligation provided a mechanism with which to create and reinforce political relations: Athens could elevate its status above that of its allies (and other Greeks), and thereby justify political hierarchies and a continuous contribution of grain from other cities. In Godelier’s words, ‘it is in the context of gift‐giving and the debts created by gifts that the process of caste and class formation is illuminated and takes on meaning.’42 This assimilation of the ruling power to gods finds an interesting parallel in the Roman period. Emperor Hadrian, who took extraordinary interest in the cult at Eleusis, was depicted on a series of silver coins holding stalks of wheat in the image of Ploutos. His wife Sabina, on the other hand, was honoured as Νέα Δημήτηρ (‘New Demeter’) in Megara in the second century AD. She appears to have been addressed also by Demeter’s title Εὐεργέτις Καρπ[οφόρος] (‘Benefactress Frui[t‐Bearer]’) in a fragmentary second‐century decree of the (p.216) Panhellenes.43 It is tempting to see Classical Athens, by demanding first‐fruits to Eleusis, as similarly elevating its position above that of other cities, almost to that of the goddesses. Paradoxically, however, if the myth of Triptolemus emphasized the other Greeks’ dependence on Athens for the gift of agriculture, in reality Athens had an overwhelming concern for, and reliance on, other cities’ supply of grain.44 The suggestion presented here—that the Eleusinian first‐fruits decree might have an economic dimension to it—can be strengthened by comparable practices in other cultures. Polynesian societies had first‐fruits festivals, variously named,45 during which a part of the harvest would be offered to the gods, who were believed to be the primary source of food. During first‐fruits festivals, the chief would recite the appropriate ritual formulae for securing rain, bountiful harvests, success in fishing, and other blessings. Since it was through the chief that the first‐fruits could be presented to the gods and the latter’s blessings conveyed to society at large, he occupied an intermediary place in the circulation of favours between the people and the gods. In many Polynesian societies, first‐fruits were originally voluntary offerings but became compulsory over time, serving as a mechanism by which the chief enhanced his economic and political position. Symbolically presented to the gods through the chief, the Page 8 of 44

A Network of Aparchai gods’ portions were intercepted by the chief to feed his family and relations, who constituted a non‐food‐producing class. Such obligations, Kirk argues, provided the material basis for the chiefly class and reinforced its political and economic power over the others.46 In Tonga, for example, the annual first‐fruits ceremony called inasi was observed with scrupulous care, as it was believed that any neglect would incur divine vengeance. Gifford imagines many vessels carrying first‐fruits from outlying islands to the Tui Tonga (the chief) on (p.217) such occasions: ‘on board the vessel carrying such a cargo was a man who continually blew a conch shell trumpet as the vessel passed inhabited islands.’ He supposes that individuals on different islands would be appointed to petty offices responsible for bringing the first‐fruits to the chief,47 perhaps somewhat like the theoroi in ancient Greece. The inasi festival, then, had the potential to reinforce the link between outlying places and the chief. The Polynesian case provides a valuable example of how agricultural first‐fruits for the gods can be appropriated by those in power. It shows that some religious obligations of first‐fruits cannot be understood separately from their political and economic contexts. About a century ago, the anthropologist Lang had already recognized the political aspect of first‐fruits ceremonies and their accompanying taboos in Polynesian societies. Some of these rituals and taboos were artificially created and imposed, he argued, to protect the interests of the ruling class or the dominant power in society.48 Like the Polynesian chiefs, Athens attempted to exploit its position between Demeter and Kore and the other Greeks as the intermediary through which the goddesses’ blessings were bestowed on all, in order to legitimize the Panhellenic contribution of grain to Eleusis. As in the Polynesian case, the first‐fruits might have been used, after being symbolically presented to the goddesses, for Athens’ own benefit. It is tempting to think of the Eleusinian first‐fruits decree as a strategy to maximize the prospective amount of grain available to the Athenians. What might have originally been a communal custom within Attica to bring aparchai to Eleusis (see Chapter 3) was probably extended to the other Greeks at large. Similar attempts to ‘internationalize’ an Athenian cult practice can be found in the fifth century. Under the empire the Great Panathenaea assumed the status of an imperial or almost a Panhellenic festival. If the so‐called Congress decree preserved in Plutarch, in which Pericles invited all the Greeks to send representatives to Athens to discuss matters of Panhellenic concern, was genuine,49 it would betray the same kind of (p.218) claim to Panhellenic leadership seen in the Eleusinian first‐fruits decree. In the fourth century Isocrates claims that aparchai of grain were annually offered by most cities, and that the Pythia ordered non‐conformers to comply with the custom.50 Nevertheless, his claims are not borne out in the several inscriptions concerning the Eleusinian aparchai that have come down to us, most of which contain only passing and unrevealing references to aparchai.51 More informative is the already mentioned IG II2 1672, which gives a remarkably well‐ Page 9 of 44

A Network of Aparchai preserved record of the Eleusinian aparchai from Attica and Athens’ possessions in 329/8 under Lycurgus. Yet the total quantity of aparchai collected in this year is unimpressive—approximately 1,134 medimnoi of barley and 122 medimnoi of wheat52—due perhaps to the fact that (p.219) these aparchai belong in a period of serious food shortage.53 If fulfilment of religious obligations was directly connected with perception of political power, then after the dissolution of the Athenian empire aparchai most probably came from only within Attica. Moreover, as Parker points out, any offering that might have continued to come from elsewhere might have been voluntarily offered as a tribute less to Athens than to the religious importance of the Eleusinian cult.54 We should therefore expect fourth‐century yields of agricultural aparchai to differ from, and not necessarily to reflect, the potential yield envisaged at the height of Athenian imperialism. Little is known about the Eleusinian aparchai after the Classical period. A first‐century BC text contains a possible and unnoticed reference to aparchai from the crops to the goddess, but in a largely indecipherable context.55 The proper observance of the Eleusinian decree is also dwelt on by Aelius Aristides, but his speech is purely a literary exercise and does not prove that the practice continued down to Hadrian’s reign in the second century AD.56 Although the economic returns from the successful implementation of the Eleusinian decree cannot be verified statistically, circumstantial evidence—the exhortation to all to contribute, the complex management of the grain envisaged, the importance of grain for Athens—and comparison with other grain measures in Attica and elsewhere all point to the possibility that the significance of the decree was not merely symbolic but also real. The Eleusinian first‐fruits provide the most elaborate example of, and a useful way of conceptualizing, aparchai sent by some Greek states to their mother‐city. As we shall see shortly, Syracuse and Miletus similarly received contributions of aparchai, but on different scales and with different degrees of obligation. Athens and Priene

Apart from being ‘the mother‐city of the crops’, in the fifth century Athens also presented itself as the mother‐city of its empire by (p.220) requiring allies to send a cow and panoply to Athens at the Great Panathenaea, an obligation of colonies to mother‐cities.57 Similar offerings continued to be sent by some cities voluntarily after the Athenian empire was dissolved. Shortly before 326/5 BC the people of Priene decreed that they would dispatch two theoroi who would bring aparchai and make sacrifices to Athena Polias at the Great Panathenaea every four years. They also renewed the grants of citizenship, equality in taxes, and the privilege of front‐seats in contests to all the Athenians.58 By the last quarter of the fourth century, the Great Panathenaea and the City Dionysia are likely to have lost much of the prestige and imperial flavour they had formerly enjoyed in the heyday of the Athenian empire. When aparchai from tribute and harvests ceased to be symbols of Athenian domination, any further aparchai to Athena may be understood not so much as fulfilling duty but as reflecting the desire to Page 10 of 44

A Network of Aparchai propitiate Athens and its patron goddess. It is difficult to uncover the political motivation (if any) that prompted Priene’s aparchai,59 but they must have been sent of the city’s own accord, as an expression of goodwill (εὔνοια) for Athens and Athena. Whatever the precise stimulus might have been, the dispatch of aparchai along with other offerings and honours may suggest a desire to strengthen political relations with Athens by reinforcing religious ties. Though not made explicit in the inscription, the Prienians probably saw Athens as their mother‐city, which may explain the reference to the kinship (συγγένεια) and friendship (φιλία) that they shared with the Athenians.60 Their offerings are comparable to (p.221) those sent voluntarily by Athenian colonies or cities that acknowledged themselves as such. In the fourth century Paros and Colophon spontaneously brought similar offerings (not aparche) to Athens, describing themselves as ‘colonists’ (ἄποικοι) of Athens.61 Whether or not Athens’ role in colonizing these places was a political fiction invented by the Athenians, these offerings acknowledged the colonial relations that existed between the sender and the recipient, and indicated a desire to maintain good relations with the mother‐city. Syracuse and its subjects

Athens was not unique in collecting tribute aparchai and agricultural aparchai from its allies. Comparable offerings appear to have been paid to the Syracusans by their subjects. In his speech delivered in 415 BC to dissuade the Athenians from undertaking the expedition to Sicily, Nicias describes the economic strength of Sicily as follows: χρήματά τ’ ἔχουσι τὰ μὲν ἴδια, τὰ δὲ καὶ ἐν τοῖς ἱεροῖς ἐστὶ Σελινουντίοις, Συρακοσίοις δὲ καὶ ἀπὸ βαρβάρων τινῶν ἀπαρχὴ ἐσφέρεται. ᾧ δὲ μάλιστα ἡμῶν προύχουσιν, ἵππους τε πολλοὺς κέκτηνται καὶ σίτῳ οἰκείῳ καὶ οὐκ ἐπακτῷ χρῶνται.62 The Selinuntians have money, partly in the hands of private people, and partly in the temples, and an aparche is paid to the Syracusans by some barbarians. But the greatest advantage they have over us is the fact that they have many horses, and they use home‐grown, not imported corn. The generally agreed sense is that ‘an aparche is paid to the Syracusans by some barbarians’,63 but the nature of the aparche remains unclear. (p.222) By analogy with the one‐sixtieth of allied tribute paid to Athena in the Athenian empire, Hornblower suggests that the word aparche is here used loosely to refer to the whole amount of the contribution, practically meaning ‘tribute’.64 That Syracuse probably received tribute from its subject states is indicated by Diodorus, according to whom the Syracusans imposed a harsh tribute on the Sicels to help expand their military forces.65 However, the word used by Diodorus is phoros, not aparche. Should not Nicias have said phoros if this is Page 11 of 44

A Network of Aparchai what he meant? As the Athenian empire made a notional distinction between phoros and aparche, it is unlikely that Nicias regarded the two as analogous. Known applications of the word aparche also go against Hornblower’s view: as we have seen in Chapter 1, aparche is used invariably with a religious significance and has no secular application—that is, unless Thucydides does not adhere to normal usages of the word in this passage.66 If Syracuse levied tribute on some barbarians, we may perhaps suppose that a share went to the gods as an aparche, whereas the larger tribute itself was termed a phoros. Nevertheless, Nicias should have mentioned the phoros and not the much smaller aparche when he wanted to emphasize Sicily’s financial strength. Contextual information also favours the interpretation of the aparche being religious in character: Nicias has just mentioned the wealth of Selinus, both in private possession and in sacred treasuries (from which the city could borrow in time of war),67 so the aparche brought in by the barbarians is likely to have concerned sacred revenue also. Instead of tribute or a portion of tribute, the aparche probably signifies a cult payment imposed on some local produce, such as the grain mentioned in the same passage.68 We may imagine (p.223) that some barbarians were required to send a certain percentage of local produce, or a percentage of the proceeds from its sale, to the gods of Syracuse. If the suggestion here is correct, then Syracuse would have operated similarly to imperial Athens in terms of the kind of (agricultural) aparche required of its subjects, but on a much smaller scale and without the same Panhellenic dimension. Miletus and its colonies: Cius and Cyzicus

In the Hellenistic period Miletus received offerings regularly from some of its colonies, one of which was Cius, located on the south‐eastern coast of the Propontis in Asia Minor. Our information comes from a Milesian inscription dated to c.228 BC. It begins by making explicit Cius’ status as a Milesian colony;69 then it mentions the city’s request to be exempted from the phialai owed to the god, presumably Apollo, on account of the wars and dearth which beset Cian land. In reply to the Cian request, the Milesians decided that they could not grant remission of the aparchai, as they themselves were also pressed by war and dearth, and because the existing law prevented it (διὰ τὸ τὸν νόμον τὸμ περὶ τούτων ὑπάρχοντα κωλύειν). They resolved that the aparchai previously owed to the god should be repaid when it seemed timely (κατὰ καιρόν) to the Cians, but from now on aparchai should be paid on time ‘in accordance with what was agreed on by their forefathers’ (κατὰ τὰ ὑπὸ [τῶ]μ προγόνων συγκείμενα).70 The decree implies that Cius was required by ancestral custom to honour Apollo with aparchai in the form of phialai. The insistence that aparchai should be sent to the god even when the city was hard‐pressed is strikingly similar to Athens’ rulings for Methone, Aphytis, and some other communities, that the aparche of Page 12 of 44

A Network of Aparchai tribute could not be remitted. In both cases, the offering is likely to have been politically and economically significant to the mother‐city: hence the reluctance to remit it.71 (p.224) However, the aparchai probably represented the whole sum Cius had to pay, whereas Athens’ allies normally had to pay both an aparche of tribute to Athena and the rest of the tribute to Athens. The Cian aparchai or phialai had no sense of proportionality, and appear to have been simply ‘offerings’ or religious ‘payments’ at a fixed value. Apparently the Cians had been thus obliged for at least the half‐century before the present inscription was issued (and possibly even earlier). An inventory list (276/5 BC) from the temple of Apollo at Didyma records ‘a phiale from the Cians, weight 100 drachmai’ (φιάλη παρὰ Κιανῶν, ὁλκὴ δραχμαὶ ἑκατόν):72 this communal dedication must be one of the aparchai referred to in the above Milesian decree. Interestingly enough, another Milesian colony, Cyzicus, located in more or less the same region as Cius on the southern coast of the Propontis, also regularly offered phialai to Apollo Didymeus in the third century BC, as indicated by the recurrent phrase Κυζικηνῶν φιάλη or similar expressions in as many as ten inventory lists.73 Though not described as aparchai, by analogy with the Cian ones, these phialai from Cyzicus, always weighing 100 Alexandrian drachmai, are extremely likely to have been aparchai required of this Milesian colony. The sanctuary of Apollo at Didyma was under Milesian control by the third century BC and possibly much earlier,74 making it highly probable that the phialai from both Cius and Cyzicus were dedications required by Miletus for Apollo Didymeus. Cius and Cyzicus aside, several other Milesian colonies are also known to have sent phialai to Apollo occasionally. A phiale from Naucratis, another Milesian colony, is attested at least once. The list (p.225) of 225/4 BC records a ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐]ων φιάλη ἀπαρχή of 100 Alexandrian drachmai from a city whose name is lost: might this be from a Milesian colony as well? An individual from the Milesian colony Sinope also dedicated a phiale.75 However, it appears from the inventory lists that not all Milesian colonies dedicated phialai to Apollo Didymeus in the Hellenistic period, while at the same time cities that were not Milesian colonies also dedicated phialai. Miletus herself made similar dedications; Iasos,76 Salamis (in Cyprus), ambassadors from Amorgos, and other cities also sent such offerings.77 Phialai were the most common offering to Apollo Didymeus.78 Especially after the expansion of the festival Didymeia in the last quarter of the third century, Apollo Didymeus must have attracted offerings from a wider community of Greek cities.79 Lindos and ‘Lindian colonies’

In 392/1 BC the temple of Athena at Lindos was destroyed by fire together with its dedications. The temple was subsequently rebuilt, and in 99 BC it was decided that a monument would be set up to record the offerings that had supposedly once been in the original temple; this is the so‐called Lindian Page 13 of 44

A Network of Aparchai Chronicle. Arranged chronologically from dedications during the mythical period to those in the third century BC, the document contains many references to first offerings from colonies, but they cannot be taken securely as authentic pieces of epigraphic evidence because of elements of invented tradition. They are nevertheless worthy of our attention as they demonstrate how societies (p.226) remembered and legitimized their past by means of first offerings. It is the Lindians’ lack of distinction between what we may call ‘mythical’ and ‘real’ history that makes the document so interesting.80 One of the offerings is a dekate from the Lindians, who are said to have colonized Cyrene. The inscription, on an unspecified object of lotus wood, is given as follows: Λινδίων τοὶ μ[ε]τὰ τῶν Πάγκιος παίδων Κυράναν κτίσαντες σὺν Βά[τ]τω[ι] Ἀθαναίαι καὶ Ἡρακλεῖ [δ]εκά[ταν ἀπὸ] λαίας ἃν ἔλ[α]βον ἀ[πὸ…. Ι…. Σ..Ι]ων (‘those of the Lindians who, w[i]th the children of Pankis, founded a colony on Cyrene with Ba[t]tu[s], to Athena and Heracles a [t]ith[e of] the booty which they to[o]k f[rom]…’). It is not unparalleled for colonists to have dispatched first offerings to their home city as a means of maintaining contact, and the dekate from the Lindian settlers in Cyrene may be understood as such.81 What is peculiar is that the Lindian dedicators here are said to have colonized Cyrene with the children of Pankis and with Battus, the legendary founder and king of Cyrene in the seventh century. There is no evidence of Lindian involvement in the foundation of Cyrene, and this dekate’s historicity must remain doubtful.82 The Chronicle also mentions first offerings sent by three other cites (Soloi, Gela, and Acragas) to Lindos from their military exploits. We shall examine these one by one. A phiale was supposedly dedicated by the Soloians in Cilicia as a dekate and an aparche of booty: [Σολεῖς] Ἀθάναι Λινδί[αι] δεκάταν καὶ ἀπαρχὰν λαίας, ἃν ἔλα[βο]ν μετὰ Ἀμφ[ιλόχ]ου ἀπὸ Μ̣ΕΤ̣ΑΒ̣ΛΥΡΕΩΝ καὶ ΣΠ̣Ε̣..Ω̣Ν (p.227) (‘[Soloians] to Athena Lindi[a] a dekate and an aparche of the booty which they t[oo]k together with Amph[iloch]us from…and…’). Amphilochus is likely to be the mythological figure (rather than a historical namesake) who was closely connected to Soloi in some traditions.83 This entry must have been fabricated to support a Lindian claim that Soloi was a Lindian colony (as some traditions have it),84 and that the connection went as far back as mythical times. Another entry refers to a great krater sent by the people of Gela in Sicily as an akrothinion: Γελῶιοι τᾶ[ι] Ἀθαναίαι τᾶι Πατρώιαι ἀκροθίνιον ἐξ Ἀριαίτου (‘Geloans to Athena Patroia an akrothinion from Ariaitos’). The place Ariaitos is otherwise unknown and is probably invented, though presumably it refers to a town defeated by Gela.85 It can be no coincidence that Deinomenes, described as a Lindian who had colonized Gela, dedicated a gorgon made of cypress as a dekate from Sicily, where Deinomenes’ sons (Gelon, Hieron, and Polyzalos) were tyrants of Syracuse.86 Gela is generally considered to have been founded jointly by the Rhodians and the Cretans in 688 BC In the face of the Cretans’ competing Page 14 of 44

A Network of Aparchai claims for the colony,87 both the akrothinion from the Geloians and the dekate from Deinomenes must reflect a Lindian attempt to assert a traditional link with Gela. Similar motives may underlie the recording of an akrothinion (a statue of Athena) supposedly sent by the Acragantines in Sicily: Ἀκραγαντ[ῖ]νοι τᾶ[ι] Ἀ[θά]ναι [τᾶι Λινδίαι ἀκρο]θίνιον ἐκ Μινώιας (‘Acragant[i]nes to Athena [Lindia an akro]thinion from Minoa’). Acragas’ foundation has (p.228) been variously attributed to Gela (itself a colony of Rhodes and Crete), Rhodes, and a joint enterprise of both.88 In none of the above cases is it certain that the city allegedly sending the first offering was indeed a Lindian colony. The dekatai and akrothinia were thus recorded in the Chronicle to assert colonial relations between Lindos and these places. By emphasizing the involvement of famous mythological figures and by placing the offerings in the Archaic period or earlier, the Lindians could claim that such cities had long‐established colonial ties with Lindos. Although they were not ‘genuine’ offerings, these dekatai and akrothinia illustrate the idea we have already encountered, that there was an expectation (if not an obligation here) that colonies should honour their mother‐cities with first offerings. Aparchai for Hellenistic monarchs

In the late third or early second century BC the Ionian city of Teos issued a decree in honour of the Seleucid king Antiochus III. Its most striking provision is the offering of agricultural aparchai before the king’s cult statue every year: ἐπειδὴ οὐ μόνον εἰρήνην ἡμῖν ὁ βασιλεὺς παρέσχεν, ἀλλὰ καὶ [τῶν] βαρέων καὶ σκληρῶν ἐκούφισιν εἰς τὸ μετὰ ταῦτα τελῶν παραλύ- [σας] τῶν συντάξεων καὶ λυσιτελεῖς τὰς ἐν τῇ χώραι μετ᾽ ἀσφαλεί- [ας π]εποίηκεν ἐργασίας καὶ τὰς καρπείας, τιθέναι πρὸς τὸ ἄγαλμα [τοῦ] βασιλέως ἀπαρχὰς καθ᾽ ἓκαστον ἔτος τοὺς πρώτους ἐν τῇ [χώρ]αι ξυλίνους φανέντας καρπούς· ὅπως δὲ καὶ διὰ παντὸς ᾖ τὸ ἄγαλ- [μα τ]οῦ βασιλέως ἐστεφανωμένον στεφάνωι τῶι κατὰ τὰς ὥρας γινο- [μέν]ωι ἐπιμελεῖσθαι τὸν ἱερέα τοῦ βασιλέως·89 Since the king brought us not only peace, but also an alleviation of the heavy and harsh taxes for the future, by releasing us from the syntaxeis, and made working and harvesting the land profitable and safe, (it seemed good) to place before the cult‐image of the king the first produce from trees that appear each year in the land, as first‐fruit offerings, and to have the priest make sure that the cult‐image of the king should be crowned at all times with the crown that fits the season. (p.229) Teos had recently gone over from the Attalid kingdom of Pergamum to Seleucid rule, and was made sacred, inviolable, and free from the taxes previously paid to Attalus I. In response to these privileges the Teians set up in perhaps 203 BC a cult of Antiochus III and his wife Laodice III, including, among Page 15 of 44

A Network of Aparchai other honours, the dedication of the couple’s images beside the statue of the god in the temple of Dionysus. Dionysus was the patron deity of Teos, and first‐fruits of trees and vines were appropriate offerings to the god of wine.90 It is interesting that first‐fruits should be presented to the king’s cult‐image on a regular basis, as if constantly to renew the city’s symbolic link with the king and to emphasize the permanence of the Teians’ gratitude. As is common with honorific decrees, the grant of honours was couched in the language of thanksgiving and reciprocity; and chari‐ words recur throughout the text.91 This inscription is one of the best preserved accounts of a Hellenistic ruler cult, modelled on the traditional cults of the gods.92 In the Archaic and Classical periods, as we have seen, aparchai were offered primarily to the gods and occasionally the dead, but never a living human being. Here the portions (aparchai) traditionally reserved for the gods were conferred on the king on account of his role in bringing peace, alleviating taxes, and enhancing agricultural production. The transfer of the gods’ customary share to Hellenistic monarchs should be regarded as proof not of the ‘decline’ of traditional cult practices but for the custom’s capacity to adjust to a new political situation. The case of Teos is by no means unique. In roughly the same period Iasos was taken over by Antiochus III. In acknowledgement of the queen’s gift of wheat to the city (after an earthquake) and of dowries for the daughters of poor citizens, the Iasians in c.196 BC founded a new cult in honour of Laodice: there was to be a priestess of Aphrodite Laodice, a procession on the queen’s birthday, and sacrifices to the queen by men and women about to be wed. The decree (p.230) also mentions aparchai (of unknown nature) and a crown in a fragmentary context, but it is reasonable to think that honours similar to those for Antiochus III in Teos—first‐fruits and a wreath using the land’s produce—were granted to the queen.93 By offering aparchai to the king and (probably) the queen, the Teians and the Iasians were paying the royal couple honours equal to the gods (isotheoi timai). It is important to realize that the benefits in return for which they were thus honoured, namely their benefactions in agricultural and economic matters, were exactly those for which the gods were traditionally honoured with aparchai.94 Like divine recipients of aparchai, the Hellenistic kings were the source of many favours for the people. Whether addressed to gods or monarchs, aparchai symbolized a relation of dependence between the giver and the recipient. Aparchai are also mentioned in a roughly contemporary decree (c.228–225 BC) from Samothrace, a Ptolemaic dependency in this period, which was granted in honour of the Ptolemaic official Hippomedon. The Samothracians commended him for his military protection and financial assistance, and at the same time sought from him new favours, including permission to import grain from the Chersonese and elsewhere, and exemption from taxes. Just before the stone breaks off, it mentions their request to resettle the Samothracian peraia (now under Ptolemaic control) with clerouchoi and to farm the land: from the Page 16 of 44

A Network of Aparchai revenues, sacrifices would be made and aparchai dedicated to the Great Gods on behalf of (ὑπέρ) Ptolemy III and his wife Berenice II.95 Although the Teian and Samothracian decrees differ as to the nature of the aparchai (‘converted’ by the Samothracians instead of ‘raw’) and their treatment (presented by the Teians before the king’s statue, dedicated on behalf of the royal couple by the Samothracians), both arrangements acknowledge the city’s dependence on the Hellenistic monarchs for their favours and for the security of their food supply. Both are made in response to the benefits, protection, and concessions received from the Hellenistic monarchs, and in the hope of more favours to come. That agricultural first‐fruits should be offered in both cases may not be a random (p. 231) choice: they are appropriate honours considering the monarchs’ role in making grain available to their subjects. Becoming a god: aparchai as political and/or religious obligations

The first part of this chapter discussed the extension of first offerings, the portion traditionally reserved for the gods alone, to the interaction between Greek cities. It may be objected that the offerings were still addressed to the gods, but in some political contexts, as we have seen, first offerings appear to have been intended for the recipient city as much as, if not more than, its patron deity. It is the lack of distinction between gifts to the gods and gifts to the city which is intriguing. With the exception of the offerings from Priene and the alleged Lindian colonies, which were sent of the cities’ own accord, the other first offerings discussed above (in the cases of the Athenian empire, Syracuse, and Miletus) were all obligatory.96 They involve the formalization of traditional voluntary gifts to the gods into religio‐political obligations of fixed sums or proportions, performed at specified times or with regularity. What is common to them is the conflation of religious and political duty: adopting the language and practice of bringing first offerings in imperial and colonial interactions leaves ambiguous in whose honour —the city or its god—the offering was sent. The two probably amount to more or less the same thing, as one way of paying homage to another city was to honour its patron deity with aparchai. It is unclear whether the contributing cities perceived any difference between the two; the distinction was perhaps politically (and economically) irrelevant, as the obligation was imposed by the city in the name of the gods. The fact that the aparchai were addressed to the city’s patron deity must have facilitated the blurring of any distinctions.97 We may even go further to suggest that the recipient city was almost placed on a par with the gods: instead of being a mere intermediary, accepting the first (p.232) offerings on their behalf, the city elevated its status to almost that of the gods by demanding aparchai, so that gifts to the gods and gifts to those in power became almost indistinguishable.

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A Network of Aparchai One way of conceptualizing the phenomenon is to suppose a three‐tier relationship between the gods, the recipient city, and its subjects, with the imperial or colonial power poised mid way between the divine recipients and the cities obliged to contribute. If traditional first offerings usually concerned a more or less98 bilateral relation between the gods and the worshipper or the worshipping community, in these contexts we find a three‐tier relation on a vertical axis.99 The paradigm is illustrated most clearly in the Eleusinian first‐ fruits decree: by presenting itself as the ‘mother‐city of the crops’, Athens attempted to exploit its intermediary position between the two goddesses and its subject‐allies (and all other Greeks) to justify and perhaps intercept Panhellenic contributions of first‐fruits to the goddesses. One is reminded of the Birds in Cloudcuckooland, in many ways a replica of imperial Athens: with their city set up midway in the air, the Birds imagine themselves as new gods dispensing blessings to mankind and intercept the offerings designated for the Olympian gods.100 The analogy is imperfect as the Birds have competing claims with the Olympian gods, whereas imperial Athens aligned itself with Demeter and Kore, but it is the image of a city asserting its superiority over its subjects and justifying the upward flow of aparchai that is relevant to us here. We may conceive of a similar process—although, I should emphasize, without the same power exerted by imperialism, and with varying degrees of intensity and compulsion—in the relations between other mother‐cities and their subject‐ colonies studied earlier. In the Hellenistic period, the Hellenistic monarchs occupied an equally ambiguous position between their subjects and the gods. The offering of aparchai (among other rites) assimilated them to, but did not equate them with, the gods. But such divine honours were (p.233) apparently conferred on the initiative of the Hellenistic cities without pressure from the kings,101 serving as a mode of interaction in a new situation of dependence on the power and favours of these monarchs. In the power relations between the Greek cities, therefore, first offerings could serve as a means of maintaining the symbolic dependence of subjects on a dominant city. Obligatory payments of aparchai, such as the tribute aparche to Athena and the phialai to Apollo Didymeus, constituted an important signifier of the dedicating city’s link with, and dependence on, the recipient, which explains the insistence that no exemption could be made, even if other concessions were granted. So great was their symbolic value for the mother‐city that the Lindians fabricated many such offerings supposedly dedicated by their ‘colonies’ in order to assert their connection with these places. However, it was not simply for their symbolic significance that first offerings were desired by those in power; there was a financial aspect to the phenomenon as well. At Athens, Athena’s treasury profited substantially from the tribute aparche, which probably constituted a source of sacred wealth available to the city as loans in emergencies.102 Likewise the gods at Syracuse appear to have been enriched by some barbarians’ contributions of an aparche, hence Nicias’ argument about Sicily’s Page 18 of 44

A Network of Aparchai economic strength.103 The phialai to Apollo Didymeus, almost invariably weighing 100 Alexandrian drachmai, also provided a potential source of bullion for the sanctuary, though we do not know whether they were actually melted down to generate monetary wealth for Miletus or not.104 I have also suggested that the Eleusinian first‐fruits decree, if successfully implemented, could have provided the Athenian democracy with a supplementary source of grain. The Lindians, on the other hand, were concerned not so much with the actual value of the purported first offerings from their ‘colonies’ but with the recognition of metropolis status that was implied in the act of dedication itself. We have explored in Chapter 2 the possible reasons why the gods were thought to deserve aparchai. Here it is worth considering the grounds on which some cities could claim aparchai for themselves (p.234) (and/or their gods). Only in the case of Eleusis do we find a ready explanation: the myth of Triptolemus justified the Panhellenic contribution of first‐fruits in terms of Athens’ benefaction to mankind in mythical times, rendering the Greeks indebted to Athens for the gift of agriculture from the outset. The Eleusinian first‐fruits decree further claimed that the practice was ‘in accordance with ancestral custom and the oracle in Delphi’.105 Similar rhetoric was used by Miletus: in response to Cius’ request to be exempted from the obligation to deliver phialai, the Milesians presented the duty as one ordained by an existing law (διὰ τὸ τὸν νόμον τὸμ περὶ τούτων ὑπάρχοντα) and an agreement made by their forefathers (κατὰ τὰ ὑπὸ [τῶ]μ προγόνων συγκείμενα).106 The implication is that the long‐ standing custom could not be changed. Yet how the practice came into being in the first place is left unexplained: the rhetoric of ‘ancestral custom’ is sufficient in itself.107 What might have been an artificially imposed duty was nevertheless couched in the language of traditionalism. This appeal to ancestral traditions played on strong expectations of appropriate behaviour towards the gods on both sides: since traditional expressions of piety and traditional rights of the gods could not be neglected, there was an expectation that the obligation would be met with respect. Even if first offerings were justified neither by aetiological myths nor by ‘ancestral customs’, we may suppose that the subject‐colonies felt, or rather were expected to feel, a general sense of indebtedness to their mother‐cities (and their patron deities) for the role of these in their foundation, assistance in wars, political protection, and other benefits generally available to them—such as grants of isopoliteia (‘equality in civic rights’), isoteleia (‘equality in taxes’), and politeia (‘citizenship’) in some cases,108 and security at sea for members of the Athenian empire109—in return for which first offerings should be sent. Although it is nowhere explicitly stated in these terms in the sources, the initial act of foundation probably created an ‘original debt’, so that certain duties and loyalty could be expected from the colonies. When Diodorus Siculus mentions how the Carthaginians (p.235) used to send first offerings of their revenues to the god(s) at Tyre, the reason given is ‘since they were colonized from this city Page 19 of 44

A Network of Aparchai (Tyre)’ (ἀποικισθέντες γὰρ ἐκ ταύτης).110 Any failure to honour a mother‐city with first offerings, especially where they were obligatory, was probably considered disrespectful and potentially damaging to the relations with the recipient city and deity. In the relations between colonies and metropoleis, as in human–divine relations, the sending of aparchai acknowledges the dedicator’s dependence on the recipient, who or which is of a higher rank and status.111 Another way of conceptualizing first offerings dispatched to mother‐cities is to conceive of a strong centre dominating a set of subordinate communities whose links with the centre were constantly reinforced by means of theoria. By requiring other cities to dispatch aparchai at certain times of the year, the cult practice had the potential to serve as a ritual cement binding the outlying places to the central political core. The theoric network thus formed might be particularly useful for reinforcing ties with the more distant and/or economically important states. Might Miletus have felt a particular need to maintain its symbolic link with Cius and Cyzicus, both of which are located in an economically vital region in the southern Propontis? For Athens and Miletus, the important sanctuaries under their control lie at the centre of this network of religious activities. It is currently believed that Eleusis had been part of Athens from the beginning and was not incorporated later, and that Didyma belonged to Miletus early and certainly by the third century BC.112 These sanctuaries were exploited as places of political power and served as a unifying centre to which first offerings were sent. If it is correct to think that the aparchai were ceremonially conveyed by state delegations on particular occasions, the ritual process and the magnificent sight it created would provide an opportunity for the ostentatious (p.236) display of the power relations between the sender and recipient.113 However, a core–periphery model risks over‐simplifying the complexity and diversity of relationship between the recipient and the dedicating city as well as the interconnectedness among the contributing cities. Nor can it account sufficiently for variations within the model:114 for example, the fact that only Cius and Cyzicus but not all Milesian colonies can be shown to have regularly sent phialai to Didyma would not be explained.

II. First offerings to Delos, Delphi, and new Panhellenic festivals We have seen in Part I how a traditional religious practice could be exploited in interstate relations as a means of expressing and maintaining power relations. We need not suppose, however, that all theoriai bearing aparchai were undertaken principally for political reasons. In what follows we shall see the conveyance of aparchai by Greek cities to the prestigious shrines of Delos and Delphi, and festival‐holding cities, as a more traditional means of maintaining human–divine relations. The frequent connection between state theoroi and aparchai appears to have been long established in ancient Greece. If it is correct to think that the much disputed ‘first aparche’ and ‘second aparche’ in the so‐ called ‘great list of Thasian theoroi’ at Thasos refer to the traditional first

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A Network of Aparchai offerings to the gods, this will be the earliest attested link between aparchai and theoria (late seventh to mid‐sixth century BC).115 (p.237) As far as Delos and Delphi are concerned, aparchai appear to have been sent irregularly and possibly without connection to particular festivals. That the Greek cities would risk long and dangerous journeys to bring aparchai to Delian and Pythian Apollo—instead of a local cult of Apollo—should not surprise us. Delos was the birthplace of Apollo and the ‘holiest of islands’ (νησάων ἁγιωτάτη),116 while Delphi was the site of Apollo’s oracle; as such they were considered more sacred than, and distinct from, any local shrine of Apollo.117 Delos

The sending of aparchai to Delos was perhaps felt to be such an ancient practice that it could be traced back to mythical times. The Hyperboreans, a legendary race of Apollo‐worshippers living ‘beyond the North Wind’ (hyper boreas),118 are said to have sent aparchai to Delos each year. Herodotus and Callimachus tell how the sacred offerings, wrapped in wheat‐straw, passed through a long chain of intermediary Greek cities, via Dodona, Malis, Euboea, Carystus, and Tenos, before eventually reaching Delos.119 Herodotus thus explains the special manner with which the Hyperborean aparchai were conveyed: the first Hyperborean messengers to bring aparchai failed to return home, so to avoid further loss of people, future offerings were sent to Delos by a process of relay through successive neighbouring peoples. According to the Delians, so Herodotus reports, the purpose of the first Hyperborean maidens’ visit was to bring tribute (φόρος) to Eileithyia for a quick and easy labour at childbirth (presumably Leto’s delivery of Artemis and Apollo).120 Accordingly, the original Hyperborean offering was not intended for Apollo, but became associated (p.238) with his cult subsequently. Differently from Herodotus and Callimachus, however, Pausanias tells us that in the last stage of the journey the aparchai passed through Prasiae in Attica and were carried by the Athenians to Delos.121 The special prominence accorded to the Athenians may suggest that Pausanias’ account was influenced by an Athenian variant of the tradition. We do not know what these Hyperborean aparchai were, but the great care taken to conceal them and to ensure their safe transport during the long journey all hint at some valuable and non‐perishable offerings.122 Despite Pausanias’ statement, there is no evidence for Athenian delegations conveying aparchai to Delos. Some scholars have conjectured that the transport of aparchai to Delos was linked to the Delia,123 the quadrennial Ionian panegyris reinstituted on the island by the Athenians after its purification in 426/5 BC, and celebrated on a larger scale than the festival that formerly existed in the fifth century. Nevertheless, our sources only attest to Athenian delegations bringing offerings, not aparchai specifically, to the Delia, and the link between the festival and the aparchai remains unproven.124 Apart from the Greek delegations Page 21 of 44

A Network of Aparchai attending the Delia, Delos also received an annual mission dispatched perhaps exclusively by Athens. In Plato’s account of Socrates’ trial and death, Phaedo explains that the Athenians had vowed to send a mission to the island every year in honour of Apollo if the Twice Seven were saved. Even to his day, therefore, the priest of Apollo would garland the stern of Theseus’ ship for the voyage and no execution was allowed until its return.125 However, no aparche is documented in connection with this annual mission either. The late Hellenistic inscription IG II2 2336, perhaps because of its mention of Delian officials, used to be taken as an (p.239) otherwise unattested Pythaïs sending aparchai from Athens to Delos, but Tracy has now demonstrated that it concerns an Athenian delegation destined for Delphi, not Delos.126 Based on the evidence presently available, therefore, the historical reality of Athenian theoriai bearing aparchai to Delos— be those Athenian aparchai or Hyperborean ones conveyed by Athenians— remains doubtful. Interestingly enough, two fourth‐century Delian inscriptions mention ‘offerings from the Hyperboreans’, which suggests that they still arrived, or were believed to have arrived, in the fourth century.127 Their very appearance in the inventory lists seems to suggest that objects thus inscribed were brought to the sanctuary, yet who sent them and what they were remain a mystery. In historical times miscellaneous Greek cities brought offerings to Delos, some of which were aparchai. The Delian inventory lists of the Hellenistic period record numerous aparchai dedicated to Apollo in the form of phialai from the Mapsichidians (who belonged to a trittys on Delos) and the Coans.128 But we also find Coan phialai referred to as anathemata (not aparchai), and others simply as phialai. Some entries record a Coan phiale simultaneously as an aparche and an anathema to Apollo, which suggests that the term aparche might have been used loosely here as an equivalent of ‘dedication’ without its usual partial connotation.129 Other places such as Alexandria, Calymnos, Casos, Cnidus, Megalopolis, Naxos, Rhodes, Tarentum, and Tauromenium also sent phialai to Delos with varying frequency and on unknown occasions,130 yet none of these is described as an aparche (p.240) and cannot be securely identified as such.131 The phialai from different cities are perhaps more or less of the same kind; the difference probably lies in the ways in which the objects were initially inscribed and accordingly recorded in the inventory. Athenian Pythaïdes to Delphi

While the Athenian theoriai to Delos went by sea, another Athenian delegation, known as the Pythaïs, set out by land to Delphi sporadically without connection to any festival. It paid homage to Apollo with processions, sacrifices, aparchai, and perhaps a tripod, and brought back a sacred tripod and sacred fire to Athens.132 The Classical period has left few traces of these Athenian missions. One of the earliest attested Pythaïdes was in 355 BC, and it was perhaps not until 326/5 BC, when Lycurgus revived the institution, that the next mission was sent.133 Surviving fourth‐century dedications made by the Pythaïsts (participants Page 22 of 44

A Network of Aparchai in the Pythaïdes) probably attest to a third, and earlier, celebration in the fourth century.134 We know of successive revivals of the custom in the late Hellenistic period (attested in 138/7, 128/7, 106/5, and 98/7 BC) from inscriptions engraved on the south wall of the Athenian treasury at Delphi.135 It is not clear why (p. 241) the state Pythaïdes to Delphi were sent at such irregular intervals, and why it is not attested between 325 and 138 BC.136 In theory, so Strabo tells us, the Pythaïs was dispatched to Delphi when lightning over Harma was observed from the sanctuary of Pythian Apollo south‐east of the Athenian acropolis. In practice, however, it is highly probable that a mission was sent when the Athenians desired.137

(p.242) The dispatch of aparchai and the individuals appointed for the task are explicitly mentioned in the

Fig. 8 . Temple and sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi

inscriptions for the years 128/7, 106/5, and 98/7.138 Although they do not appear in earlier epigraphic evidence, aparchai are likely to have been traditional offerings already sent by the earlier Pythaïdes. From the inscription IG II2 2336 (a list of monetary contributions of aparchai for the Pythaïs in 98/7, collected between 103/2 and 97/6 BC), we learn that in the late Hellenistic period at least, the aparchai were sums of money jointly contributed by selected Athenian and Delian officials. The inscription’s preamble has been restored to read: 1Ἀγαθῆι τύχηι τῆς βουλῆς κ̣[αὶ το]ῦ δ]ήμου τοῦ Ἀθηναίων. ὁ κεχειροτο[ημέν]ο̣ς ἐπὶ τὴν ἐξαποστο‐ 2λὴν τῆς Πυθαίδο̣ς καὶ τ̣ὰς ἀπ̣α̣ρχὰς τῆς πρώτης ἐν⟦νεετη⟧?ϱ̣ί̣[δος Ἀμφικρ]άτης Ἐπιστράτου Πε‐ 3ριθοίδης ἀνέγραψ[εν] τοὺς δόντας τῶν ἀρχόν⟦των τὰς ἀπαρ⟧χὰς [τ]ῶι Ἀπό̣[λλωνι] τ̣ῶι Πυθίωι κα‐ 4 τὰ τὸ ψήφισμα [ὅ Ξε]νότιμος ἐγ Μυρρι[νο]ύ̣ττης εἶπεν.139

With good fortune of the council and the people of the Athenians. The one elected for the sending of the Pythaïs and the aparchai of the first enneeteris, Amphikrates son of Epistratos of Perithoidai recorded the officials who contributed the aparchai to Apollo Pythios, according to the decree which Xenotimos from Myrrhinoutta proposed.

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A Network of Aparchai Tracy suggests that legislation was enacted in 103/2 to raise a sum for the aparchai of the Pythaïs scheduled in 98/7. Among the officials required to contribute are, for example, Athenian hoplite generals, the herald of the Areopagus, archons, lesser Athenian officials, the epimeletai of Delos, priests, and lesser officials on Delos. The requirement that chosen officials should contribute on behalf of the city is representative of the Hellenistic practice of linking the exercise of public functions with financial obligations: magistrates had to meet certain public expenses from their own resources.140 Yet not all the officials paid regularly every year: Tracy notes serious disruptions in contributions for the years 100/99 and 99/8; perhaps because of this (p.243) the fund‐raising effort fell short of the projected goal, so that a supplementary set of contributions of 2,450 drachmai had to be solicited from the officials in 97/6. From the joint contributions made in seven consecutive years between 103/2 and 97/6, a total sum of about three talents was raised as aparchai.141 If Tracy’s interpretation is correct, it is significant that such elaborate arrangements were made to raise money for the aparchai for Delphic Apollo: preparation began six years in advance and serious efforts (as in the last‐minute fund‐raising in 97/6) were made to ensure that a sum of three talents was met. Might the Athenians have vowed a fixed sum to Apollo Pythios as an aparche to be paid in 98/7? How the sum was determined and whether similar fund‐raising mechanisms were in force for the aparchai in other Pythaïdes remain unclear. New Panhellenic festivals

In the Hellenistic period, many Greek cities established new festivals or expanded existing festivals to a Panhellenic scale. The festival‐holding city would send out theoroi to invite participation and to request asylia (inviolability) for the sanctuary from other cities, where they would be received by officials known as theorodokoi.142 In response to the invitation, cities would arrange for offerings and representatives to be sent to attend the occasion. The dossier of surviving inscriptions known as asylia decrees, which are the invitees’ responses to the festival‐holding city, make frequent mention of an aparche or eparche, a cash gift for the deity whose festival was being proclaimed.143 Since the phenomenon of sending an aparche to the organizer is similarly attested in different festivals in this period, I shall only discuss the most well-documented case of Magnesia on (p.244) the Maeander, and I shall list in a footnote the references to aparchai for other new Panhellenic festivals.144 According to the Magnesians’ own account of events, the Delphic oracle ordered them to honour Apollo Pythios and Artemis Leucophryene (‘Of the White Brow’), and to declare the territory of Magnesia sacred and inviolable.145 Accordingly, in 221/0 BC, they sought recognition of asylia and invited participation in a (probably crowned) competition;146 yet the original attempt failed and in 208 BC they re‐established the Panhellenic festival, the Leucophryeneia. In response to Magnesia’s request in 208, we have a dossier of some sixty-five decrees from different Greek communities inscribed along the perimeter walls of the Page 24 of 44

A Network of Aparchai Magnesian agora, fifteen of which preserve provisions for an aparche to be sent.147 In at least six cases the aparche was entrusted to the Magnesian theoroi proclaiming the festival, but in one instance it might have been carried by the theoroi sent out by the (unknown) city that had been invited.148 In the (p.245) remaining cases either insufficient information survives or it is left unspecified which set of theoroi was entrusted with the aparche.149 Most inscriptions state simply that the aparche was ‘for the goddess’ (τῆι θεᾶι) without specifying its use, but the reply of the Acarnanians stipulates that the treasurer was to give 150 silver drachmai as an aparche ‘for the goddess for the sacrifice’ (τᾶι θεῶι εἰς τὰν θυσίαν).150 Analogy with the Acarnanians’ provision may suggest that the aparchai contributed by the other cities probably financed a thusia for Artemis. These aparchai were of varying sums in drachmai or other local measures; the most common value is 100 drachmai.151 Several sums of aparchai are said to have been ‘specified by law’ (ἐκ τοῦ νόμου), referring perhaps to some nomos made locally concerning the value of the aparchai.152 Instead of a traditional ‘part offering’, the aparche in these texts is simply a monetary ‘offering’ or ‘religious payment’. Two cities indicate that an aparche would be sent to the goddess each time (ἑκάστοτε) the festival was celebrated in the future. But we do not know whether this is representative of all the other cities sending aparchai. Where the frequency is not indicated, one wonders whether an aparche was paid only when a festival was newly established and first announced, or whether it was a regular offering each time the festival was held.153 The lack of epigraphic evidence for subsequent celebrations makes it difficult to know. It has been suggested that with the promise to recognize a festival as Panhellenic and to grant asylia also came the expectation that the invitee would meet several obligations, two of which (aparche and (p.246) ekecheiron) required a cash gift.154 However, it does not appear from the evidence that the invited city was obliged to pay an aparche. The Magnesian account of the games’ establishment makes no mention of an aparche or any other monetary payment;155 an aparche was probably not ‘invited’ along with the other initial Magnesian requests. Where the oracular response or the original decree of request has come down to us, only the oracle of Trophonius, in accordance with which the games of Apollo Ptoius at Acraiphia were declared sacred and Pan‐ Boeotian, required that ‘sacred funds’ be collected upon the games’ proclamation: ‘they are both to collect sacred funds, for the common good, in every land, and proclaim the holy contest.’156 But even in the Acraiphian case, the attempt to collect sacred funds in accordance with the oracle does not necessarily imply an obligation to pay, nor that the organizer was able to compel payment. It is difficult to imagine that every city that accepted a new festival was obliged to contribute. In fact there are far more responses which do not mention an aparche than those which do, though this may be affected by the chance survival of the word on stone, and some aparchai may have been sent Page 25 of 44

A Network of Aparchai without being recorded in the decrees. That aparchai are not ubiquitous, and that their sums vary where they do appear, makes it likely that it was up to the invited city to decide whether to send an aparche and, if so, of what value. Although the asylia decrees are from the Hellenistic period, the custom of sending an aparche to the cities holding festivals may date from earlier. There is no direct evidence from the Archaic and (p.247) Classical periods attesting to aparchai in connection with the traditional Panhellenic games, but we learn in Hellenistic Clazomenae’s reply to Magnesia that ‘the (Magnesian) theoroi who come each time for the proclamation shall be given aparchai and xenia, in the same way as they are given to those proclaiming the Pythian games’.157 Another response, probably from Mytilene, also alludes to an eparche for the traditional Pythian games: ‘the theoroi from Magnesia announcing the festival shall be given, for the eparche and the sacrifice at the public hearth and xenia, as much as it is written in the law for those announcing the Pythian games.’158 The implication seems to be that aparchai had been sent to the traditional Panhellenic games in the Hellenistic period and possibly earlier, and that the practice was not a unique Hellenistic development. As the new Panhellenic games modelled themselves on the characteristics of the traditional Panhellenic festivals (such as festival announcements, and requests for isolympian, isopythian, or isonemean honours for the victors),159 it is reasonable to think that monetary aparchai in the Hellenistic documents might be an extension of the traditional honour for the gods at the four traditional festivals.

III. Conclusion Compared to the religious practices in Part I, the aparchai destined for Delos, Delphi, and the festival‐holding cities in Part II are more representative of the traditional custom of spontaneously bringing gifts to the gods in distant sanctuaries. Though not free from political impetus, the precise motives underlying such missions are often (p.248) difficult to pin down. As far as Delos and Delphi are concerned, the aparchai do not appear to have been prompted by specific benefits just received or by immediately perceived goals. Among other motivations, they were probably sent in recognition of the importance of the cult centres and the divine role of Pythian and Delian Apollo, and served more generally as a means of maintaining good relations, and building up favour, with the god. Interactions between men and gods by means of sending aparchai appear to have been exploited by some cities in interstate relations. As we have seen, the bringing of aparchai to a mother‐city or dominant power involved the extension of the traditional cult practice to become, in some cases, a fixed religio‐political obligation for political (and possibly economic) purposes. As the dominant cities stood in for their patron deities as recipients, the aparchai paid homage to the recipient cities as much as, and sometimes even more than, the divine recipients.

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A Network of Aparchai The Hellenistic aparchai dispatched to cities holding new Panhellenic festivals were probably an imitation of a pre‐existing practice of sending aparchai to the traditional Panhellenic games, but there was a new element of interacting with and expressing goodwill for the city organizing the festival. Such theoriai may be seen as belonging to part of the broader system of civic interactions in the Hellenistic world, creating a network of diplomacy among what Ma calls ‘peer polities’, namely ‘structurally homologous, autonomous states of the same size, linked by networks of concrete and symbolic interaction’.160 If the aparchai sent to mother‐cities reinforced the hierarchical relations between the recipient and the sender on a vertical axis, those sent to the festival‐organizer linked the communities on a horizontal level. For these cities, what was important was not so much the actual economic value of the aparche but the acceptance and recognition of the games’ status that it implied. At the same time, failure or refusal of such recognition might be a deliberate statement.161 It may be no coincidence that the vast majority of the first offerings surveyed in this chapter were aparchai. Dekatai and akrothinia feature only in the Lindian Chronicle; this is natural as these entries concern first offerings from the military exploits of the Lindians and (p.249) their alleged ‘colonies’. What, then, made aparchai particularly appropriate gifts when a city sent representatives to pay homage to the gods and those in power? That they should be chosen (instead of dora, mnema, anathemata, or other gifts) on such occasions may be related to two aspects of aparchai: first, the implied dependence of the dedicator. In their role as founders or sources of all things, the mother‐city or god had a claim to a portion of the goods and resources enjoyed by the dedicating city. Aparchai best exemplified the dedicator’s dependence on, and debts to, the recipient: they duly gave back to the mother‐ city or deity some of the benefits that originated from them. The second aspect is aparchai’s emphasis on the recipient’s precedence and honour. Although all gifts can be said to confer honour in one way or another, aparchai, because of the priority they gave to the recipient, had particular potential for emphasizing the timai and prestige of the cult or city in question. As they implicitly acknowledged the recipient as superior while recognizing the dedicators as dependent and in some cases subordinate, they provided a useful means with which to express and reinforce the hierarchical relations between the recipient and the sender, a fact that held true for both human–divine relations and colony– metropolis ones.162 Yet such symbolic dependence was lacking in the aparchai for cities holding new Panhellenic festivals. In this context the word aparche was used with diminished connotations of ‘preliminary portion’ and ‘priority’: it was a cash gift or token offering given voluntarily as an expression of goodwill and cordiality between ‘peer polities’. The different ways and varying degrees of intensity with which first offerings tied recipients and dedicators together constitute one of the most interesting aspects of these practices.

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A Network of Aparchai Notes:

(1) On theoria and theoroi, see Daux (1967), Dillon (1997), Perlman (2000), Elsner and Rutherford (2005), Rutherford (2013). (2) Pritchett (1969) places the date of the treasury’s transfer in the 460s; see discussion in Hornblower (1991–2008), vol. 1, 146. Samons (2000), 101–2, supports the traditional date 454/3. On Athenian intervention in Delos, see Meiggs (1972), 47–9, Parker (1996), 149–51, Constantakopoulou (2007), 67–75. (3) Athenian tribute lists: IG I3 259–90, Meritt, Wade‐Gery, and McGregor (1939– 53); the first list is IG I3 259=ATL II 1. The placement of the surviving fragments of the tribute lists from 421/0 to 415/4 as presented by editors of ATL is doubted by Kallet (2004) (=SEG LIV 63–9) on the basis of autopsy. (4) IG I3 285, 287, 289=ATL II 33–4, 39 (all partially restored). (5) On the original organization of the Delian League and the first assessment of the phoros, see Thuc. 1.96, Arist. Ath. Pol. 23.5, Plut. Arist. 24. (6) Chankowski (2002), 242–3, (2008), esp. 37–43, 311, 317–23. The possibility had already been envisaged by ML 39, p. 84, Meritt (1972), 416, Meiggs (1972), 237. (7) Here I follow most scholars’ opinion that the League’s funds were entrusted to Apollo’s treasury while on Delos, and were transferred to that of Athena at Athens after 454/3. Cf. Samons (2000), 108–10, who argues that one-sixtieth of allied tribute was paid to Athena, whereas the rest of the tribute and the accumulated reserves of the League flowed into another treasury at Athens. (8) Reassessment of Methone: IG I3 61, ML 65=ATL II D 3–6. Its date has been disputed: 430 is preferred by ATL III, pp. 134–7, followed by ML 65 and Samons (2000), 63. But Mattingly (1961), 154–65, and (1970), 134–6, places it in 427/6; this was questioned by Meiggs (1972), 534–6. See also Samons (2000), 63, on the possible Athenian motives for such generous treatment. Aphytis was given the same privilege as Methone: IG I3 62=ATL II D 21 (428/7 BC). (9) Special rubric for Methone, Haison, and Dikaia: IG I3 281.II.31 ff.=ATL II 25. II.31 ff. (c.430/29, plausibly restored), IG I3 282.II.51 ff.=ATL II 26.II.51 ff. (c. 429/8); see also Meritt (1944), 211–24, esp. 221. The two lists IG I3 281–2 are generally agreed to be consecutive, but their dates and sequence are disputed; the arguments are summarized in Mattingly (1961), 154–61, and Meiggs (1972), 534–6. Here I follow the dates given in IG. (10) IG I3 101 (410/9–407/6 BC), has a reference to τε̑ς ἀπαρχε̑ς τε̑ι Παρθένοι ℎ[έπερ κ]αὶ τέος ἐγίγνετο τε̑ι [θε]õι (‘the aparche to the Virgin which even until recently was given to the goddess’) (line 57). It ends with the decision that the Neapolitans should set aside the aparche for their Virgin just as before (lines 63– Page 28 of 44

A Network of Aparchai 4). Tod no. 84, p. 210, took ἡ θεός in line 57 to mean Athena at Athens and the aparche to mean the aparche of allied tribute (accepted by Meritt, Wade‐Gery, and McGregor in ATL I, pp. 525–6), inferring that Neapolis was asking that the tribute aparche previously paid to Athena be paid to Neapolis’s own goddess instead. However, it is incredible that the tribute aparche should have been transferable from Athena to another divinity given its religious and political significance. To deprive Athena of the aparche would not only severely undermine Athens’ and its goddess’s honour, but also damage the goodwill between the two cities. More plausible is the view of Meritt and Andrewes (1951), 206–7: ἡ Παρθένος and ἡ θεός in line 57 were identical, and Neapolis was asking Athens to agree to the restoration of its customary offering of aparche to its own Virgin goddess, which might have lapsed when Neapolis provided financial and military support to Athens against Thasos. Nevertheless, it is not clear why this matter should have required Athenian permission, nor do we know the nature of the aparche, except that it seems to have been regularly made (as indicated by the imperfect tense ἐγίγνετο). Cf. Meiggs and Lewis in ML 89, p. 275, who thought that in Athenian inscriptions ἡ θεός should be Athena. (11) IG I3 34 (=ML 46), IG I3 46 (=ML 49), IG I3 71 (=ML 69). On the ambiguities between political and religious obligations, see also Parker (1996), 142–4, Kowalzig (2007), 116–17. (12) Thuc. 7.28.4, Ar. Ran. 363. On the eikoste, see Meiggs (1972), 349, Kallet (2001), 121–6, 195–226, Figueira (2005), esp. 84–94. Contrary to the earlier view of Meritt (1936), followed by Meiggs (1972), 438ff., that tribute was revived in 410/9, it is now generally agreed that the phoros was not reintroduced by the Athenians at a later date: see e.g. Kallet (2001), 223–4, Figueira (2005), 110, Hornblower (1991–2008), vol. 3, 595–6, cf. Samons (2000), 250–4, Rutishauser (2012), 124 with n. 296. (13) IG I3 78, ML 73, I.Eleusis no. 28. (14) Parker (1996), 144. Papazarkadas (2011), 276–7, reminds us that olives and the aparche of olive oil were the privileges of Athena but not the Eleusinian goddesses. (15) Scholarship before 1996 is summarized in Cavanaugh (1996), ch. 3. Kallet (2001), 196 and n. 47, 217 and n. 132. (16) Cavanaugh (1996) dates the decree to the 430s based on the absence of the board of the Eleusinian epistatai in the decree; supported by Clinton in I.Eleusis vol. II, no. 28a, p. 52. I am open to the possibility of a date in the 430s, but not on these grounds: note the objections of Rosivach, BMCR 97.2.22.

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A Network of Aparchai (17) The decree’s possible association with the Peace of Nicias has been suggested by Guillon (1962) long ago. Lampon: IG I3 78.47, ML 73.47, p. 221. Thuc. 5.19.2, 24.1, Ar. Av. 521, 988; PA 8996. Lampon’s activities are known to have extended from at least 443 to 414 BC. (18) IG I3 78.4–5, 25–6, 34. (19) The oracle is considered historical by Parke and Wormell (1956), vol. 1, 326, vol. 2, 72–3, no. 164, and Fontenrose (1978), 247, H9. Cf. Smarczyk (1990), 171, 191–2, who notes that the antiquity of the oracle is unknown. The criteria of ‘authenticity’ adopted by Parke and Wormell (1956) and Fontenrose (1978) have been questioned by Maurizio (1997), Flower (2008), 216 n. 13, 218, and Kindt (2006), 46. Parke and Wormell take the Delphic oracle mentioned in IG I3 78 as a subsequent re‐pronouncement, in perhaps the sixth century, of the oracle in myth commanding pre‐ploughing sacrifices at the Proerosia (on which see Chapter 3). But other scholars think that they were two distinct oracles: Fontenrose (1978), 294–5, Q79, Brumfield (1981), 67 n. 29, Smarczyk (1990), 171, 191–2. (20) On the use of oracles to enhance authority, see e.g. Kindt (2006), 35, Petrović and Petrović (2006). (21) Mylonas (1961), 127, Meiggs (1972), 304–5, Hornblower (1992), 182, 185– 6. Neither Garnsey (1988) nor Moreno (2007) explores the decree’s economic significance. (22) Disputed occasion: see Chapter 3, n. 17. (23) State delegations: as noted by Parker (2005), 343 with n. 67, an Athenian honorific decree (IG II2 992=IG II/III3 1372.a) in the first half of the second century BC attests to a Milesian theoria to Eleusis, showing that there were occasional state missions to Eleusis. (24) On Eleusinian officials, see Clinton (1974). Archaeological evidence for the siroi: Noack (1927), 189–93, with fig. 76, Kourouniotes (1936), 53, Mylonas (1961), 125–6, Mee and Spawforth (2001), 137–8. Cf. Smarczyk (1990), 185, who thinks that the grain collected must have been consumed soon after its arrival, as no provision for longer storage was made. (25) Sacrifice and dedications: IG I3 78.36–44. Official records: IG I3 78.26–30. (26) See IG II2 2956–7=I.Eleusis nos 504, 532; Oliver (1970), 103–4, nos 15–16, Follet (1976), 128 (on the date), Spawforth and Walker (1985), 100, Clinton (1989a), 1520–2, (1989b), 57, Bowden (2009), 75.

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A Network of Aparchai (27) IG II2 1672.263–96, I.Eleusis no. 177. Price‐fixing: three drachmai for barley and six drachmai for wheat per medimnos (lines 282–3, 287). Jameson (1983), 10, Garnsey (1988), 158, and Clinton (2005–8), vol. 2, no. 177 p. 231, think that the prices were below the current market rates. Clinton further conjectures that they were ‘evidently in response to the grain shortage’. (28) Whether this year’s harvest was normal or not is disputed: see n. 53. (29) Jameson (1983), esp. 10–11. Loans from sacred treasuries: e.g. ML 72, 77, Thuc. 2.13.3–5. (30) Editio princeps: Stroud (1998) (=SEG XLVIII 96); RO 26. (31) Stroud (1998), 31, 109, interprets the dodekate as a tax on wheat and barley grown on the three islands; supported by Bresson (2000), 207–8, RO 26, p. 124, Bissa (2009), 188–9. The nature of the pentekoste is disputed. Stroud (1998), 37–9, supported by Bissa (2009), 189: a hitherto unknown harbour tax on grain exported from the three islands. Cf. Harris (1999), 270–2: both the dodekate and the pentekoste were ‘transit taxes’ levied on grain in transit through the islands. RO 26, p. 126, envisage the possibilities of a tax on grain and one on imports and exports. (32) On the 374/3 law’s intentions, see Stroud (1998), 116, Bissa (2009), 188–9. The comparability between the two inscriptions is discussed in Stroud (1998), 109–10. (33) See e.g. Strubbe (1987), Fantasia (1989), Strubbe (1989), Bissa (2009). (34) IG XII.6 172 (side A=Syll.3 976). Its generally accepted date is c.200 BC, but Tracy (1990) places it in c.260 BC on prosopographical grounds; doubted by Gargola (1992), 13–14 n. 6. The stone’s upper portion is not preserved. Migeotte (1990), 301, followed by Gargola (1992), 20, thinks that an upper segment of the same size as the present stone is missing and that the original text (and hence the list of citizens and sums) was perhaps twice as long. (35) IG XII.6 172.A.23–5: ἐκεῖνοι δὲ ἀγοραζέτωσαν σῖτον τὸν ἀπὸ τῆς εἰκοστῆς ἀπομετρού⟦--c.5--⟧μενον τῆς ἐξ Ἀναίων. (36) Dittenberger in Syll.3 976, nn. 9–10. On Anaia, see Thuc. 3.19.2, Shipley (1987), 34–6, 266–7. (37) Foxhall and Forbes (1982), 60, assume that the medimnos is meant, but Migeotte (1990), followed by Gargola (1992), think that the choinix, a smaller unit than a medimnos, must be meant, as the amount of grain available was not huge.

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A Network of Aparchai (38) This is generally agreed to be the primary concern of the law: e.g. Tarn and Griffith (1952), 108, Jameson (1983), 10–11, Shipley (1987), 221, Garnsey (1988), 16. But the limited scale of the operation is emphasized by Shipley (1987), 219–20, Migeotte (1990), Gargola (1992). (39) On the myth, see Smarczyk (1990), 216–24, and sources in Chapter 3, n. 7. On the competing claims of Athens and Sicily over who first received the art of agriculture, see Diod. Sic. 5.2.3 ff., 5.4.3–7, Kowalzig (2008). It is disputed whether the nude figure in the Great Eleusinian relief (Fig. 7) represents Triptolemus or Ploutos or another divine figure: discussed in Clinton (1992), 39– 55. (40) IG I3 78.44–6: [τοῖ]ς δὲ ταῦτα ποιõσι πολλὰ ἀγαθὰ ἐ̑ναι καὶ εὐκαρπίαν καὶ πολυκαρπία[ν, ℎοί]τινες ἂν [μ]ὲ ἀδικõσι Ἀθεναίος μεδὲ τὲν πόλιν τὲν Ἀθεναίον μεδὲ τὸ θεό. (41) Aristid. Or. 1.37, 399 (Panathenaikos). (42) Godelier (1999 [1996]), 30. (43) Hadrian: Kienast (1959–60), 61–9, pl. II.2, Clinton (1989b), esp. 57–8. Sabina: IG II2 1088.49, IG VII 73–4. Dittenberger ap. Graindor (1934), 130–1, Mylonas (1961), 175–81; cf. Clinton (1989a), 1523. (44) See e.g. Arist. Ath. Pol. 43.4, 51.4, Dem. 20.31, Plut. Sol. 24.1. On Athenian regulations concerning grain, see also Todd (1993), 320–1. The social and political importance of grain for Classical Athens has been much studied in modern scholarship: e.g. Osborne (1987), esp. chs 2 and 5, Moreno (2007), Oliver (2007). On the problem of food supply in the wider Greek world, see also Jameson (1983), Garnsey and Whittaker (1983), Garnsey (1988), Garnsey and Morris (1989). (45) E.g. the makahiki in Hawaii, the inasi in Tonga, and the matahiti in Tahiti. (46) Goldman (1970), esp. 509–11, Oliver (1974), 259–64, Kirk (1984), esp. 37–9, 160–7, 230 ff. (47) The inasi in Tonga: Gifford (1929), 102–8, Webster (1942), 342–3. (48) Lang (1901), ch. 14. Also relevant is the idea in Kuper (1947), 197–225, that first‐fruits rituals functioned as an ‘economic weapon’ of the king (see introductory chapter). (49) Great Panathenaea: see n. 11 above. Congress decree: Plut. Per. 17, with commentary and bibliography in Stadter (1989), 201–7. The decree’s authenticity is disputed. Authentic: Raubitschek (1966), Meiggs (1972), 512–15, Griffith (1978), Walsh (1981), 59–63, MacDonald (1982), Cawkwell (1997); Page 32 of 44

A Network of Aparchai inauthentic: Seager (1969), Bosworth (1971), Robertson (1976). For a different line of interpretation, see Tronson (2000). See also Perlman (1976), 6–17, on the Panhellenic features of Pericles’ policies. (50) Isoc. Paneg. 31. (51) These are IG I3 391=I.Eleusis no. 45 (it records meagre sums of obscure significance transferred by the hieropoioi to the epistatai from 422/1–419/8), IG I3 386–7=I.Eleusis no. 52 (inventory records of the epistatai of 408/7 BC; IG I3 386, lines 5–6 record a sum derived from the aparchai), SEG XXX 61=I.Eleusis no. 138 (c.367/6–348/7? Side B.a.13 has a reference to ‘those rendering first‐ fruits of grain’), IG II2 140=I.Eleusis no. 142 (c.353/2, apparently it amends or renews the practice prescribed in a previous and otherwise unattested ‘law of Chairemonides’). I do not know of any earlier reference to the Eleusinian aparchai than the Eleusinian first‐fruits decree (IG I3 78), but note the contested restoration in IG I3 6=I.Eleusis no. 19 (c.470–460, a law concerning the Eleusinian sanctuary): Clinton (1974), 11–12, and I.Eleusis no. 19 restores ἀργυρί[ο τε̑ς [ἀπαρ]|χ̣ε̑ς ἐ̣χ̣[σ]ε̣ῖναι Ἀθεν[αίοισι] on face C, lines 32–3; cf. IG I3: ἀργυρί[ο ...7....|.]ΕΣ[....]ιναι Ἀθεν[αίοισι]. Based on Clinton’s doubtful supplement, some scholars, e.g. Cavanaugh (1996), 73–4, and Patera (2011), 126–7, see in IG I3 6 an early reference to the Eleusinian practice of collecting aparche. However, Clinton’s restoration remains uncertain (as he notes in I.Eleusis no. 19, about the ‘oblique stroke’ he could see in the first stoichos of line 33: ‘the mark may be spurious’); see possible alternatives listed in IG I3 6, and criticism in Pafford (2006), 25–30. (52) IG II2 1672.263–300, I.Eleusis no. 177. See Garnsey (1988), 98, table 5, for the total amount of Attic grain production in 329/8 calculated by Garnsey. We must, however, be aware of the limitations of this inscription in inferring total productivity: Moreno (2007), 13–14, criticizes the method used by Garnsey to extrapolate the total production of grain in Attica from the aparchai figures in IG II2 1672 (multiplying them by the ratios decreed in IG I3 78), on the grounds that the proportions might have changed over the fifth and fourth centuries; Moreno has avoided culling numbers from IG II2 1672 altogether. Similar cautions are expressed by Stroud (1998), 34–6. But Garnsey’s method and figures continue to be accepted and followed by some: e.g. RO 26, pp. 124, 127. (53) The 330s and 320s have been taken as periods of serious food shortage by some scholars, e.g. Jameson (1983), 10–11, Garnsey (1988), 154–62, Sallares (1991), 393–4, Clinton (2005–8), vol. 2, no. 177, p. 231. Cf. Stroud (1998), 35–6, RO 26, p. 124. (54) Parker (1996), 222 with n. 16. (55) IG II2 1035.23–4. Culley (1972), 83, thinks that the goddess is Athena, but Demeter must be meant, as line 22 refers to the sanctuary at Eleusis. Page 33 of 44

A Network of Aparchai (56) Aristid. Or. 1.31–8 (Panathenaikos). (57) IG I3 34.41–3 (=ML 46.41–3), IG I3 71.56–8 (=ML 69.56–8). On ‘cow and panoply’ as an offering proper to colonists, see IG I3 46.15–17 (=ML 49.11–13) (Brea), Meritt and Wade‐Gery (1962), 69–71, Hornblower (1982), 193, Parker (1996), 142–3, 221 nn. 13–14. (58) I.Priene 5, esp. lines 10–13: αἱρεῖσθαι δὲ τ̣[ὸν δῆ]μον θεωϱ̣ο[̣ ὺς] δύο τοὺς τὰς ἀπαρχὰς ἀπ[ο]ί̣[σοντας καὶ τ]ὰ ἱεϱ̣ὰ̣ ποιήσοντας τῆι Ἀθηνᾶι τῆι Πολιάδι κα[θ᾽ ἑκάστην] πεντετηρίδα. The grants in lines 6–9 are presumably referred to in IG II2 566.7–8. See also I.Priene 6 (after 330/29), which grants citizenship to Philaios of Athens. (59) Hornblower (1982), 325, thinks that the religious links between Priene and Athens do not constitute sufficient proof of recent Athenian refoundation of, or political interference in, Priene in the mid‐fourth century. The question of Priene’s refoundation is complicated and controversial, see e.g. Van Berchem (1970), Hornblower (1982), 323–30, Sherwin‐White (1985), 88–9, Demand (1990), Rubinstein (2004), 1092. (60) I.Priene 5.5–6. On Ionian cities’ perception of Athens as their mother‐city, see e.g. Snodgrass (1971), 376, Meiggs (1972), 294, Parker (1996), 88 n. 84, 142–3. Athens claimed to be the mother‐city of Ionia: Graham (1964a), 63, Smarczyk (1990), 328 ff. The ideology of kinship in colonial and other interstate relations is discussed in e.g. Curty (1995), Hornblower (1991–2008), vol. 2, 61– 80, Jones (1999), Patterson (2010), passim (esp. 149 on Priene). (61) SEG XXXI 67: in 373/2 Paros voluntarily offered to bring a cow and panoply to the Panathenaea, and a cow and phallus to the Dionysia, ‘according to ancestral traditions’; IG II2456: Colophon’s dispatch of a crown and panoply to Athena upon the liberation of Athens in 307/6. See also IG II2466.23–4: Tenos might have promised to send a cow to Athens in 307/6. (62) Thuc. 6.20.4. It is now generally agreed that ἀπαρχή is far preferable to the hardly translatable ἀπαρχῆς φέρεται (manuscripts ABCEFM) and ἀπ᾽ ἀρχῆς (manuscript G, ‘from time immemorial’). The latter is preferred by e.g. Haacke (1823), vol. 1, 272, Jowett (1881), vol. 1, 424, Smith (1928–35), vol. 3, 222–3. (63) E.g. Dover (1965), 32, Gomme, Andrewes, and Dover (1945–81), vol. 4, 256– 7; Hornblower (1991–2008), vol. 3, 355–6. (64) The word is translated as ‘tribute’ in Hobbes (1723), vol. 2, 508, Dover (1965), 32, and as ‘la quote‐part’ in Bodin and Romilly (1955), 18. The verb εἰσφέρειν (‘to bring in’, ‘to contribute’) is commonly used of monetary contributions: LSJ s.v. εἰσφέρω I.2; Thuc. 3.19.1, 8.45.5.

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A Network of Aparchai (65) Diod. Sic. 12.30.1. The Sicels here, the plain‐dwelling subjects of the Syracusans, need to be distinguished from the Sicels of the interior who sided with the Athenians in Thuc. 6.34.1, 6.88.4. See Hornblower (1991–2008), vol. 3, 402. (66) The only other appearance of the word aparche in Thucydides is Thuc. 3.58.4, where it is used with a religious significance and refers to offerings made to the Spartan war dead. (67) On the treasures in the Selinuntian temples, see e.g. IG XIV, 268, ML 38, and bibliography in Chapter 6, n. 55. (68) Crawley (1874), 421, Warner (1954), 423, and Kallet (2001), 42, translate aparche here as ‘first‐fruits’. Hornblower (1991–2008), vol. 3, 356, envisages the possibility of ‘a genuine and formally imposed fraction of agricultural produce’, but does not discuss its (secular or sacred) nature. (69) The Milesian origin of the city is mentioned in Aristotle fr. 514 Rose, according to which Cius was founded first by the Mysians from Chios, then by the Carians, and finally by the Milesians. On Cius, see Gorman (2001), 247, Avram (2004), 982–3, no. 745. (70) Milet I.3, no. 141, esp. lines 23–34. (71) Economic potential of these aparchai: the phialai probably constituted a source of bullion that might be used by Miletus when in need. (72) I.Didyma no. 427.6–7. (73) On Cyzicus, see Graham (1964a), 107–8, Gorman (2001), 246, Avram (2004), 983–6 no. 747. Phialai from Cyzicus: I.Didyma nos 432.6–9, 433.7–8, 444.2–3, 452.3–4, 453.5–6, 463.17–18, 464.10–11, 468.8–9, 471.7–9, 475.17–18. In most cases the entry reads Κυζικηνῶν φιάλη, sometimes φιάλαι δύο ἐκ Κυζικοῦ (432.6) and ἀνάθημα Κυζικηνῶν (433.7). The incomplete decree Milet I. 3 no. 137 (c.334–323 BC, with Graham (1964a), 107–8) regulating the relations between Miletus and Cyzicus does not contain any references to aparchai or phialai. The phialai from Cius and Cyzicus are mentioned in passing by Graham (1964a), 108 and n. 1, 161, Fontenrose (1988), 67 n. 8. (74) The relation between Miletus and the sanctuary of Apollo at Didyma has been disputed: Hdt. 1.46.2 says that Didyma was located in Milesian territory. Tuchelt (1988), 430–3, suggests that the sanctuary was in fact independent; Ehrhardt (1983), however, argues for an early connection between the sanctuary and Miletus. It is generally accepted now that Didyma belonged to Miletus early on, and certainly by the third century BC.

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A Network of Aparchai (75) I.Didyma nos 446.7 (unknown city), 447.7 (a Sinopean), 452.9–10 (Naucratis). The city‐ethnic Naucratites also appears in I.Didyma no. 457.10 in a fragmentary context, but the word phiale is not preserved. (76) Iasian phialai appear in inventory lists as many as nine times (I.Didyma nos 427.7–8, 428.5–7, 431.7–9, 432.9–11, 433.8–10, 444.3–4, 449.6–7, 464.11–12, 475.19), almost always weighting 100 Alexandrian drachmai. Iasos was an Argive colony located near Didyma. Ehrhardt (1983), 26–7, warns that the presence of Iasian dedications in Didyma should not be (mis‐)taken as an indication that Iasos was a Milesian colony; the offerings are explained by Iasos’ proximity to the sanctuary. (77) I.Didyma nos 426.4–6 (Miletus), 446.8–9 (ambassadors from Amorgos), 446.9–11 (Salamis). (78) But other Didymaean deities also received phialai, e.g. I.Didyma nos 427.12– 14, 432.14–18 (Artemis). On phialai, see Luschey (1939), ThesCRA, vol. 1, 305–6, vol. 5, 196–201. Phialai are ubiquitous in temple inventories: Harris (1995). (79) Expansion of the Didymeia: Rigsby (1996), 172–8. (80) Lindos II, no. 2. Its structure and arrangement are discussed in Higbie (2003), 155–203. On the question of this text’s reliability, see bibliography in the Introduction, nn. 61–2, and in particular Price (2012 [2008]), 18–19 (168–9 in the original), who defended the Chronicle’s value as a source for historians. Price reminded us that this document is by no means unique in mentioning mythical offerings: e.g. the Hyperboreans’ dedications are recorded in Delian inscriptions (see n. 127 below). (81) Lindos II, no. 2.B.109–17 (tr. adapted from Higbie), Löhr (2000), 14, no. 9. Π̣άνκιος ἔγγονοι τοὶ ἐ[κ Κυράνας] (‘descendants of Pankis, those f[rom Cyrene]’) feature in a fragmentary dedicatory inscription, Lindos II, no. 44 (c.335 BC, supplemented, based on the present text). Parallels of colonists’ dedications: e.g. Lindos II, no. 2.C.29–35 (a dekate from a Lindian called Deinomenes who colonized Gela). See also IG I3514 (=ML 66, DAA no. 306, ThesCRA vol. 1, 278, no. 45): a marble base (not a first offering) set up on the Athenian acropolis by Athenian colonists who set out to Potidaea in 429 BC. (82) On the foundation of Cyrene, see ML 5, Hdt. 4.150–8, Pind. Pyth. 4.4–11, 4.59–63, 5.85–95, Fontenrose (1978), 120–3, Malkin (1987), 60–9, 204–16, Calame (1988b), 105–25, Mari (1999), 269, Calame (2003 [1996]), Austin (2008). (83) Lindos II, no. 2.C.75–9. [Σολεῖς] appears to be supplemented based on the compiler’s description of the object as Σολεῖς φιάλια in the same entry (line 75). Amphilochus: Strabo 14.5.16–17, 676; Gantz (1993), 527–8, Higbie (2003), 127.

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A Network of Aparchai (84) Strabo 14.5.8, 671, Arist. fr. 582 Rose; but Soloi is also said to have been founded by Athens in Diog. Laert. 1.51. (85) Lindos II, no. 2.C.11–14. Dunbabin (1948), 113, thought that Ariaitos is an unknown place, but he treated the offering as historical and dated it to the first half of the seventh century, followed by Jeffery (1990), LSAG2, 272. (86) Lindos II, no. 2.C.29–35. See also Graham (1964a), 20 with n. 4, 161–2. Higbie (2003), 111, thinks that two men called Deinomenes are being confused or conflated by the compiler: Deinomenes (father of Gelon, Hieron, Thrasyboulos, and Polyzalos) is a descendant and later namesake of an earlier Deinomenes who may be the founder of Gela according to a variant preserved in Etym. Magn. 225.1–6, s.v. Γέλα. For a possible family tree of the Deinomenids, see Dunbabin (1948), 483. (87) Foundation of Gela: Hdt. 7.153.1 (Herodotus leaves out Cretan involvement), Thuc. 6.4.3, Diod. Sic. 8.23.1; Dunbabin (1948), 20, 64–6, Malkin (1987), 52–4, 180. Malkin thinks that the oracle about Gela’s foundation recorded in Diod. Sic. 8.23.1 was fabricated to assert Cretan status. (88) Lindos II, no. 2.C.56–9. Graham (1964a), 162, takes this as a historical dedication in the second half of the sixth century. Foundation of Acragas: Thuc. 6.4.4, Polyb. 9.27, Strabo 6.2.5, 272; Dunbabin (1948), 310–12, Malkin (1987), 180–1. (89) SEG XLI 1003, II, Herrmann (1967 [1965]), Ma (1999), 311–17, no. 18 (lines 50–7, tr. adapted from Ma), with discussion in Chaniotis (2007). The date is disputed: Ma (1999), 260 ff., prefers c.203 BC to 197/6 BC. (90) On the political context, see Ma (1999), 63–73, with inscriptions at 308–21, nos 17–19. The connection between Dionysus and Teos is discussed in Cole (1995); at 314–15 n. 130, she distinguishes καρποὶ ξύλινοι for Dionysus from σιτικοὶ κάρποι for Demeter (also discussed by J. Robert and L. Robert in BE (1969), no. 496). (91) E.g. lines 40–1 (χάρ[ιτα]ς ἀποδ[ο]ῦναι), 42 (χάρις), 65–6 (χ[άριν] ἔχουσαι), 68 (εὐχαριστία), 108 (εὐχαριστία); see also line 98 ([εὐ]εργεσία). (92) The bibliography on ruler cults is enormous. Some recent discussions are e.g. Günther and Plischke (2011), Iossif, Chankowski, and Lorber (2011), Parker (2011), 279–82 (with bibliography on key studies at 279 n. 1). (93) I.Iasos 4=Ma (1999), 329–35, no. 26. Sokolowski (1972) restored the last few lines of the Iasian decree based on the Teian inscriptions cited above. (94) This is one of the insights of Parker (2011), 79, 279–82.

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A Network of Aparchai (95) IG XII.8 156.B.17–23, with discussions in Robert (1963), 77–9, Gauthier (1979). On offerings for rulers and offerings to rulers, see Price (1984), 210–20. (96) But the Eleusinian aparchai were required of Athenian allies and invited from other Greeks outside the arche. (97) Kallet (2001), 217 n. 132, suggests that the Athenians might have shifted their patronage from Athena to Demeter when the aparche of tribute came to be replaced by the Eleusinian first‐fruits (but see the section on ‘The Eleusinian first‐fruits decree’ for possible objections to her proposed dating). (98) I say ‘more or less’ because in some cases a bilateral relation cannot sufficiently encapsulate the dynamics of human–divine relations. Thus de Polignac (2009b), 441, proposes a ‘triangular’ relation between the deity, the dedicator, and the dedicator’s community. (99) This idea modifies and develops Dignas’s (2002) notion of a triangular relationship between the gods, the kings, and cities in Hellenistic and Roman Asia Minor: a king did not always side with the interest of a city as is sometimes supposed, but would often act as a mediator in favour of a god when sacred matters were at stake. (100) Ar. Av. passim. (101) On the important dictinction between ruler cults set up by the cities and dynastic cults promoted by the monarchs themselves, see Walbank (1984), 84– 100. (102) On loans from Athena’s treasury, see n. 29. (103) Thuc. 6.20.4. (104) On precious‐metal dedications as a usable financial resource, see e.g. Lewis (1954), 49, Vickers and Gill (1994), 33–54, esp. 51, Harris (1995), 28–38, 63, Patera (2012), 91–7. (105) IG I3 78.4–5, 25–6, 34. (106) Milet I.3, no. 141, lines 28, 33–4. (107) On the binding power of ‘tradition’ and the formula κατὰ τὰ πάτρια (or similar), see Cole (2008), 57–9, Stavrianopoulou (2011). (108) These grants are mentioned in e.g. I.Priene 5.6–9, Milet I.3, no. 141, lines 18, 34. (109) On the benefits enjoyed by the Athenian allies, see e.g. de Ste. Croix (1954), Finley (1981), ch. 3. Page 38 of 44

A Network of Aparchai (110) Polyb. 31.12.12 and Diod. Sic. 20.14.1–5 refer to an ancestral custom according to which the Carthaginians would dispatch first offerings from their public revenues to the god(s) in their mother‐city Tyre. The practice was neglected but resumed in 310 BC after the Carthaginians’ defeat by Agathocles, a defeat which they attributed to their failure to observe the ancestral custom. The sources vary between aparche and dekate, and between ‘the god’ and ‘the gods’. On Carthage’s obligations to Tyre, see also Arr. Anab. 2.24.5, Curt. 4.2.10, Just. Epit. 18.7.7, Ferjaoui (1993), 21–46. (111) On the analogy between human–divine relations and subjects–king relations, see also Mikalson (2010), 34–5. (112) Athens and Eleusis: Osborne (1994), esp. 152–3, Sourvinou‐Inwood (1997b); cf. Walton (1952), Richardson (1974). Miletus and Didyma: see n. 74. (113) See the scene at the matahiti (first‐fruits ceremony) in Tahiti envisaged in Moerenhout (1837), vol. 1, 518–21, Oliver (1974), vol. 1, 261–2. (114) On the centre–periphery model, see e.g. Kristiansen, Larsen, and Rowlands (1987), Bilde (1993). For critiques of the model, see Renfrew and Cherry (1986), Ma (2003), Malkin (2011), ch. 1. (115) IG XII.8 273–4. I have argued elsewhere that the ‘first aparche’ and ‘second aparche’ were religious offerings brought by Thasian theoroi (sacred delegates) probably to the sanctuary of the Great Gods on Samothrace when they came to attend the Samothracian Mysteries. See the history of scholarly interpretations in Graham (1982), 113–17 (245–50 in reprint), Graham (2001b), 396–7, and Jim (2014). See also a Samothracian honorific decree I.Iasos 72 (c. 250 BC), re‐edited by Habicht (1994) (= SEG XLIII 715), Dimitrova (2008), 253, appendix I.3, no. 3, which mentions an Iasian theoria bringing an aparche to Samothrace. (116) Callim. Hymn 4, 275 ff. (117) See Rigsby (1996), 6–8, on ‘degrees of sacredness’. (118) On the Hyperboreans, see Romm (1992), 60–7, Skinner (2012), 62–4, 229. Hyperboreans’ offerings to Delos are discussed in Tréheux (1953), Bruneau (1970), 39–48, Parker (1996), 224–5, Bridgman (2005), esp. 47–60, 75–7, Parker (2005), 82, Kowalzig (2007), 119–23, Chankowski (2008), 106–8. (119) Hdt. 4.33 (Tenos is mentioned in Hdt. but not Callim.), Callim. Hymn 4, 275 ff., with commentary in Mineur (1984), 223 ff. (120) Hdt. 4.33–5. It is disputed whether the adjective ὠκυτόκος (‘quick birth’, ‘easy delivery’) refers to Leto’s delivery (preferred view of Macan (1895), How and Wells (1928), Larson (1995), 120) or the Hyperborean girls’ own childbirth Page 39 of 44

A Network of Aparchai (interpretation of Rawlinson (1862) ). Other complications presented by the legends as relayed by Herodotus are discussed in Sale (1961). (121) Paus. 1.31.2. (122) Some modern suggestions are: e.g. sacrificial victims, honey from Hyperborean bees, swan eggs, and ears of corn. See Tréheux (1953), 764–5 with bibliography in nn. 34–8. (123) Nilsson (1906), 147, Tréheux (1953), 767–9, followed by Bruneau (1970), 43. Parker (2011), 192 n. 76, considers the link between the Hyperborean aparchai and a particular festival ‘highly plausible, but currently indemonstrable’. (124) On the Delia, see Hymn Hom. Ap. 146 ff., Thuc. 3.104; Parker (1996), 150– 1, 222–3 and (2005), 81. The most conspicuous Athenian theoria to the festival is perhaps that led by Nicias: Plut. Nic. 3.4–6. Dedications (not aparchai) associated with Athenian delegations are mentioned in e.g. I.Délos nos 101.38– 41, 103.56–62, 104.113–19, with Coupry’s commentary on pp. 43, 45, Smarczyk (1990), 519 n. 59. (125) Pl. Phd. 58a–c; see also Xen. Mem. 4.8.2. (126) IG II2 2336: Ferguson (1932), 147 n. 1, Daux (1936), 525 n. 1, Bruneau (1970), 128–37; cf. Tracy (1979) and (1982), esp. 147–9. (127) I.Délos no. 100.49 (372–367 BC): [τὰ ἐξ] Ὺ̣περβορέων ἱερά, I.Délos no. 104(3).A.8=IG II2 1636.A.8 (c.367 BC): [εἰς ἱερὰ] τὰ ἐξ Ὑπερβορ[έ]ων Η; Bruneau (1970), 39–40. (128) On the Mapsichidians, see Jones (1987), 212. Mapsichidian aparchai: I.Délos nos 313.AB.75, 314.B.83, 320.B.42, 58, 338.C.48 (supplemented), 442.B. 114, 443.B.b.38 (supplemented); Coan aparchai: I.Délos nos 298.A.14, 313.AB. 11, 372.B.21–2, 379.12 (supplemented), IG XI.2 161.B.74–5, 184.6 (supplemented), 199.B.7–8, 244.10 (supplemented), 287.B.42. (129) Coan anathemata: e.g. I.Délos nos 298.A.18, 371.B.17, 396.B.55 (supplemented), 421.59, 62 (supplemented), IG XI.2 161.B.14, 15, 66, 162.B.11, 12, 53, 164.A.2–3. Coan aparche and anathema: IG XI.2 161.B.74–5, 199.B.7–8 (partly supplemented). (130) E.g. IG XI.2 161.B.70, 71, 199 B.14, 226.B.3–4. See Bruneau (1970), 93– 114, on envoys from miscellaneous Greek cities. Coan theoriai are also mentioned in Sherwin‐White (1978), 91 n. 50.

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A Network of Aparchai (131) Cf. Bruneau (1970), 111–12, who seems to consider all the offerings dispatched by different Greek theoroi as aparchai. Following Tréheux (1953), 765 n. 40, 773, Bruneau suggests further that the unique function of these theoriai to Delos was to transport an offering called aparche to the god, and to preserve the memory of the ‘aparche of harvest’ paid earlier to Apollo by members of the Delian League. If indeed there were such aparchai to Apollo in the time of the Delian League (see above), they are likely to have been a sum of money rather than agricultural produce. (132) A fourth‐century horos in the Athenian agora marks out the ‘boundary of the sacred road through which the Pythaïs journeys to Delphi’ (ὅρος ἱερᾶς ὁδõ δι᾽ ἧς πορεύεται ἡ Πυθαὶς ἐς Δελφός, Agora XIX H 34). Ferguson (1909), 307–9, and (1911), 372–3, envisaged that this journey by land involved a distance of over 100 miles and would take three days. The most recent discussion of the Pythaïs is Parker (2005), 83–7. (133) Pythaïs in 355 BC: Isae. 7.27; Parke (1939c), 80–3. Lycurgan Pythaïs: Syll.3 296–7. On its date, see Lewis (1955), esp. 34 and (1968), 377 n. 29. The fourth‐ century Pythaïdes are discussed in Daux (1936), 528–31. (134) Dedications: IG II2 2816–17; Voutiras (1982). Parker (2005), 86 n. 28, thinks that the Pythaïs in which the dedicators of IG II2 2816 served is likely to be earlier than 355 BC, whereas IG II2 2817 may be associated with the Lycurgan Pythaïs of 326/5 BC. (135) FD III.2 nos 2–58 (=Syll.3 696–9, 711, 728). See also IG II2 1136 (=Syll.3 711 K), a Delphic honorific decree for the Athenians and the priestess of Athena who served in the Pythaïs in 106/5. (136) But the Marathonian Tetrapolis dispatched several separate Pythaïdes of its own and apparently continued the practice when Athens neglected it: Philochorus, FGrH 328 F 75, FD III.2 nos 18–22. In 98/7 there appears to have been an Athenian attempt to regularize the Pythaïs to eight‐year intervals (enneeteris): see IG II2 2336.2, FD III.2 no. 48.7–8; Colin (1905), 134–9, Tracy (1982), 146–7. (137) Strabo 9.2.11, 404. Political impetus has been identified in several missions. Parke (1939c), 83: the theoria in 355 might have been an Athenian demonstration in favour of the Phocians, who had a good prospect of establishing themselves at Delphi; Parker (1996), 247: the 326/5 mission is commonly thought of as part of the Lycurgan attempt to revive Periclean Athens; Mikalson (1998), 269, connects the first Hellenistic mission to Athens’ re‐ establishment of the Amphictiones’ authority over Delphi; Tracy (1982), 150–2: the Pythaïs of 98/7 probably aimed to renew old traditions and to reassert Athens’ importance in Greek affairs.

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A Network of Aparchai (138) Aparchai: FD III.2 nos 6.2–4 (=Syll.3 728 B), 13.19 (=Syll.3 711 D1), 46.1 (=Syll.3 697K), 48.11 (=Syll.3 711L), 54.3–5. (139) The Greek text cited follows Tracy (1982), which differs from that in IG II22336 (lines 1–4). (140) On the link between magistracies and financial obligations in the Hellenistic period, see Veyne (1976), 214–17, 251–3, 272–6. (141) Tracy (1982) (with text, commentary, and discussion); at 96 Tracy explains that the supplementary sum raised in 97/6 was perhaps too late for the 98/7 Pythaïs and was probably dispatched to Delphi later but nevertheless recorded here. (142) On theoroi and theorodokoi, see Perlman (2000), 37–62. The asylia decrees are conveniently collected in Rigsby (1996). New Panhellenic festivals are discussed in Parker (2004c), who notes that requests for participation and asylia were not necessarily connected (at 10–11). (143) The form eparche is used in three texts: Asylia 101.33 (Magnesia on the Maeander), FD III.2, no. 88 (Delphi), Bizard (1920), 247–9, no. 9.9–10 (Acraiphia). (144) An unidentified festival at Delphi: FD III.2 no. 88.8, FD III.1, no. 318.4; the Asclepieia at Cos: Asylia 28.10–11, 29.6–7, 32.8–9, Rigsby and Hallof (2001), no. 2.A.11–12, B.16–17, no. 3.a.8–9; the Hyacinthotrophia at Cnidus: FD III.1, no. 308.11; the Pan‐Boeotian (not Panhellenic) Ptoia at Acraiphia in Boeotia: IG VII 4138.23–5, 4139.22–4, SEG XXXII 511.7–8 (supplemented), IG VII 4146.b.1–2, Bizard (1920), 247–9, no. 9.9–10; an unidentifiable festival at Samothrace: Habicht (1994) (=SEG XLIII 715, Dimitrova (2008), 253, appendix I.3, no. 3). (145) Magnesia’s account of events: Asylia 66, see also Gehrke (2001). On Magnesia’s possible political motives, see Rigsby (1996), 174–5, 179–84, Thonemann (2007), 159–60. (146) Following Ebert’s (1982) restoration πρῶτ[ον ἀργυρί]την ἀγῶνα θεῖναι (Asylia 66.16–17), Rigsby (1996) thinks that the initial attempt in 221 was to set up a money contest for those in Asia and in 208 to expand it to crown status. But Slater and Summa (2006) argue that it was in 221 and not 208 that the Magnesians wished to upgrade their festival to crown status, supplementing instead πρῶτ[ον στεφανί]την. This view had been expressed earlier by Kern (1900). Recently, Thonemann (2007) proposes πρῶτ[οι στεφανί]την ἀγῶνα θεῖναι τῶγ κατοικούντων τὴν Ἀσίαν [ἐψηφίσαν]το, κτλ. (lines 16–18), according to which in 221 the Magnesians were claiming to be ‘the first of those dwelling in Asia to vote in favour of establishing a stephanitic contest’ (to which all the Greeks were invited). Page 42 of 44

A Network of Aparchai (147) These are Asylia 68.18–19 (Attalus I and his subjects), 79.21 (Delphi), 80.1 (unknown city), 81.34–6 (Acarnanian League), 86.19–20 (Ithaca), 97.26–7 (Chalcis), 101.31–5 (Mytilene?), 102.39–41 (Clazomenae), 107.34–6 (unknown city), 109.a.6 (Laodicea on the Lycus), 110.24 (unknown city), 127.9–12 (unknown city), 128.12–13 (Attalid city), 129.22, 27 (Tralles), 131.19–20 (Attalid city). (148) Magnesian theoroi: Asylia 97, 101, 102, 127, 129, 131. The invitee’s theoroi (?): Asylia 107.34–6: εἰς [δὲ] τὸ λοιπὸν ἀ[ποστέλλειν θεωρ]ούς τ̣ε καὶ θυσίαν κα̣ὶ̣ παρχ̣[ὴν] τῆι θε̣ᾶι κα[θ᾽ ἓκαστα? Λευκοφρ]υηνὰ δϱ̣αχμὰς ἑκατὸν ἑκάσ̣[τοτε] (lines 34–6). Taken literally, in future the participating city was to ‘send out’ theoroi to attend the festival, together with a sacrifice and an aparche to the goddess of 100 drachmai on each occasion. (149) Asylia 68, 79–81, 86, 109–10, 128. (150) ‘For the goddess’: e.g. Asylia 86, 107, 109, 127, 128, 129, 131. ‘For the goddess for the sacrifice’: Asylia 81.34–6. Boesch (1908), 79, explained an aparche in these inscriptions as ‘eine Geldspende zum Opfer für die Gottheit’; Perlman (2000), 47: ‘the identification of the aparche with the money provided for the sacrifice to the deity whose festival was being announced seems certain.’ (151) Asylia 80 (two staters), 81 (150 silver drachmai), 86 (fifteen local drachmai), 107 (100 drachmai), 127 (twenty Alexandrian drachmai), 129 (100 drachmai), 131 (100 drachmai). (152) ἐκ τοῦ νόμου: eg. Asylia 80.1, 97.26–7. This phrase is also used in several asylia decrees for the Coan Asclepieia (Asylia 28.10–11, 29.6–7, 32.8–9, but the last two are partly supplemented) and the Ptoia at Acraiphia (IG VII 4138.23–5). (153) ἑκάστοτε: Asylia 102.39–41, 107.34–6 (partly supplemented). Haussoullier (1902), 170, thought that the aparche was renewed as often as the games were held and the theoroi visited. (154) Perlman (2000), 46. The a/eparche appears to have been different from an ekecheiron, the meaning of which is less certain. LSJ s.v. ἐκέχειρον: ‘=ἐκεχέιριον, travelling allowance for θεωροί who announce a sacred truce’. Boesch (1908), 74–9: a cash gift for the festival‐announcing theoroi themselves, probably for sacrificial use (but he did not say whether this was a sacrifice on the spot or in the festival), to be distinguished from an aparche, which was an offering given to the theoroi for the god whose festival they proclaimed. Oulhen (1992), 241–6, takes the two terms to be synonymous for money sent to the deity for a sacrifice on the occasion of the festival. Dillon (1997), 19: an honorarium for the visiting theoroi presumably to help cover their expenses. Perlman (2000), 47–8, 128: ‘although certainty is not possible, it appears that the aparche was the gift sent to the patron deity of the festival while the ekecheiron was used for Page 43 of 44

A Network of Aparchai a sacrifice [on the spot] performed to solemnize the invitee’s acceptance of the sacred truce.’ (155) Asylia 66. (156) Ayslia 2.4–6=IG VII 4136.4–6: οὕτως δ̣ὲ ἀγιρέμεν ἀμφοτέρως τὰ ἱαρὰ χρείματα κυνῆ ἐφ᾽ οὑγίη κατὰ πᾶσαν χώραν, κὴ τὸν ἀγῶνα ἱαρὸν καταγγελλέμεν (tr. Rigsby). On the Ptoia, see Rigsby (1996), 59–62. (157) Asylia 102.39–41 (Clazomenae): δ[ίδοσ]θαι δὲ καὶ τοῖς θεω[ρ]οῖς τοῖς ἑκάστοτε πορευομένοις ἐπὶ τὰς [ἐπα]γγελίας τὰς ἀπαρ[χ]ὰς καὶ τὰ ξένια καθάπερ καὶ τοῖς τὰ Πύθ[ια ἐ]π̣αγγέλλ̣ουσιν δί[δ]οται. (158) Asylia 101.31–5 (Mytilene?): δίδωσθαι δὲ καὶ τοῖς ἐπαγγελλόντεσσι θεώροισι πὰρ Μαγν̣[ή]των εἴς τε ἐναρχὰν καὶ ἐφέστιον κ[αὶ] ξ̣έ̣νια, [ὅσ]σα καὶ τοῖς τὰ Πύθια ἐπαγγελλόν[τ]εσσι[ν ἐν] [ν]όμῳ γέγραπται. The word ἐναρχάν here, as Rigsby notes, is the stonecutter’s error for ἐπαρχάν. See also Asylia 49.30–3 (Gela’s response to Cos): the Coan theoroi were to be given ten mnai legal tender, ‘as much as to those announcing the Olympic games’ (ὅσσο[ν κ]αὶ τοῖς [τ]ὰ Ὀλύμπια περιαγγελλόντεσσι). This sum is most probably an aparche, although the term is not used. (159) On elements of traditionalism in the new Panhellenic games, see Parker (2004c), Perlman (2000). (160) Ma (2003), 23. On festival theoroi as a form of peer polity interaction, see Ma (2003), esp. 12, 14. (161) E.g. Dem. 19.128: outraged by the Macedonian treatment of the Phocians, Athens in 346 refused to send their ancestral theoria to the Pythian games. (162) On religion as a system of rank and hierarchy, see Burkert (1996), ch. 4, 80–101.

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A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance Theodora Suk Fong Jim

DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.003.0009

Abstract and Keywords Most first offerings in the preceding chapters were presented more or less voluntarily to the gods. But some of these voluntary gifts were transformed into obligatory religious payments to generate income for cults. This chapter considers cult fees, taxes, and contributions termed aparchai, and how they relate to, or differ from, traditional aparchai. Matters discussed include the individuals obliged to contribute, the various types of payments, their religious uses, and how payments were enforced (if at all). It will be seen that, in the context of cult finance, there is a shift in significance from aparchai as ‘first part offerings’ to ‘cult payments’ and ‘offerings’, with a much diminished sense of a preliminary portion. Like traditional aparchai, however, these payments demonstrate the relationship of mutual interdependence between men and gods. Keywords:   cult finance, religious payments, cult fees, taxes, contributions, obligatory

In the preceding chapters we have seen mainly dedications, and sometimes sacrificial offerings and portions of food and drink, presented more or less voluntarily to the gods as first offerings. But there is yet another context in which aparchai, dekatai, and their synonyms appeared: already in the fifth century we find the terms used in sacred finance.1 These could be cult fees payable for the use of cult utilities and services (Section I), or obligatory contributions required of certain categories of individuals like a tax (Section II).2 Some voluntary donations for cult purposes and sacred fines were also termed a/ eparchai or dekatai (Sections III and IV). We shall look at the actual practices— the various types of payments, their cult uses, and the individuals concerned—

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A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance before considering how these a/eparchai and dekatai relate to, or differ from, the traditional first offerings.

I. Cult fees One of the most common methods of generating cult revenue in the Greek world was to charge a cult fee for certain activities in sanctuaries. We have plenty of epigraphic evidence attesting to payments, (p.251) in cash or in kind, required of worshippers making an animal sacrifice, some of which use the words aparche and aparchesthai. A third‐century lex sacra from Olbia mentions a board of seven officials in charge of a thesauros (offering box). The sacrifiants (τοὶ θύοντες)3 were to deposit fees into it, and the act of making such payments was termed aparchesthai (τοὺς θύοντας ἀπάρχεσθαι [ε]ἰς τὸν θησαυρόν). The text ends with a list of figures for different animals—for an ox 1,200, for a sheep (?) and a goat 300, for [another animal] sixty (βοὸς μὲν χιλίους διακοσίους, ἱερείου4 δὲ καὶ αἰγὸς τριακοσίους .έ[ . . ]ους5 δὲ ἑξήκοντα)—but the figures are so unusually high that it is unclear to what they refer.6 In Olbia the sacrificial fee was the subject matter of an independent lex sacra; similar payments are sometimes mentioned in another kind of epigraphic evidence known as diagraphai, which are texts regulating the sale of priesthoods, a practice attested in Asia Minor and the eastern Aegean islands from about 400 BC. These inscriptions typically specify the qualifications, duties, and privileges of the priest or priestess, and often included the perquisites they were due from sacrifices. These, as increases or guarantees of their income, were granted so as to make the purchase of the priesthoods more attractive.7 A Hellenistic diagraphe concerning the priesthood of Aphrodite Pandamos and Pontia on Cos (c.125–100 BC) carries such a clause: ‘all other people who sacrifice shall also make an offering into the thesauros for Aphrodite’ (ἀπαρχέσθων δὲ καὶ τοὶ λοιποὶ πάντες τοὶ θύοντες ἐς τὸν θησαυρὸν τᾶ[ι] Ἀφροδίται): for cattle two drachmai, for (p.252) other full‐grown victims a drachma, for young animals three obols, for birds one obol (per victim).8 The same amounts have been supplemented as the fees payable by the sacrifiants in a roughly contemporary Coan diagraphe for the cult of Asclepius.9 Although the sums of the aparchai vary according to the type of sacrificial animal, they do not appear to represent an implied percentage of the victims’ value.10 Unlike the Olbian and Coan cases, the aparche in a text from first‐century Thasos was a flat rate. Individuals sacrificing to Theagenes had to make a minimum payment of one obol, presumably irrespective of the kind of animal sacrificed. As if to deter non‐payment, the thesauros was thus inscribed with a warning: ‘those who sacrifice to Theagenes of Thasos shall pay no less than an obol into the thesauros; he who fails to make the offering as prescribed shall have religious anxiety (enthumiston)’, meaning that the transgressor would anxiously anticipate divine anger or evil as a result of the infringement.11

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A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance The aparchai mentioned so far were coined fees deposited into a thesauros,12 but payments were also made in kind. A recently published Hellenistic lex sacra from Patara in Lycia requires the sacrifiants to make an aparche from each animal to the priest: ‘those who sacrifice to Zeus Labraundos or to any of the gods in the precinct are to give to the priest an aparche from each victim πλάτα ἴσον. No one else is allowed to hold a gathering or to lodge in the precinct except for those who sacrifice.’ As was discussed in Chapter 1, the phrase πλάτα ἴσον remains obscure. This is a rare instance where aparche (p.253) appears to denote a portion of the sacrificial victim. More unusual still is the fact that it is set aside here not as the god’s share, but as a priestly perquisite.13 A/eparchai might also be payable for healing. In the fourth century those seeking cures from Amphiaraus at Oropus had to pay a cash fee termed an eparche as prescribed in two inscriptions. The earlier text (c.402–387 BC) stipulates that those who need treatment ‘shall pay an eparche, each one dropping into the offering box no less than a Boeotian drachma’ ([ἐπαρχὴν διδοῦν ἓκαστο]ν̣ ἐμβάλλοντα εἰς τὸ[ν] [θησαυρὸν μὴ ἔλαττον δρα]χμῆς βοιωτίης),14 whereas the later text (c.386–374 BC) provides for an eparche in any legal currency to be paid on the same occasion. It shows signs of erasure where the amount of the eparche was inscribed, with the sum of nine obols replacing one drachma, probably reflecting inflation towards the end of the fourth century BC: ἐπαρχὴν δὲ διδοῦν τὸμ μέλλοντα θεραπεύεσθαι ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ μὴ ἔλττον ⟦ἐννέ′ ὀβολοὺς δοκί⟧μου ἀργυρίου καὶ ἐμβάλλειν εἰς τὸν θησαυρὸν παρεόντος τοῦ νεωκόρου⟦––––‐c.19––––⟧15 Whoever intends to be cured by the god shall pay an eparche of no less than nine obols of legal currency and drop it into the offering box in the presence of the neokoros. Unlike the traditional aparchai, typically made in retrospect for benefits received, here the eparche was required preliminary to treatment. This leads Petropoulou to explain an eparche as ‘an offering made to obtain a god’s favor, as distinct from ἀπαρχή, one made in (p.254) thanks for a favor’.16 This is true of the eparche in the Oropus texts, but not of all eparchai. As we shall see shortly, not all eparchai were prompted by immediately perceived goals of, or services required by, the individuals.

II. Cult taxes Different from cult fees payable on certain cult activities are the a/eparchai and dekatai levied like taxes on certain categories of individuals. The earliest available references to a/eparchai as cult taxes relate to maritime activities. According to recently proposed supplements, an Attic inscription of the mid‐fifth century required ships based in Sunium to pay an aparche worth five obols every three years.17 Another Attic inscription (c.432 BC), concerning a cult at Piraeus,18 required shipowners (οἱ ναύκλεροι) who lay at anchor along Phaleron Page 3 of 28

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance to pay a drachma each from the ship as an aparche or eparche.19 The same category of individuals again features in the above‐mentioned Aphrodite diagraphe on Cos (c.125–100 BC): shipowners (τοὶ ναύκλαροι) who sailed around the country and fishermen (τοὶ ἁλιεῖς) who fished out of the city were to pay five drachmai as an aparche annually per ship.20 We have an earlier Coan diagraphe (shortly after 198 BC) requiring traders and shipowners (τοὶ ἔμποροι καὶ τοὶ ναύκλαροι) sailing out of Cos to make a sacrifice,21 which (p.255) suggests that a payment originally in kind was replaced by a cash fee termed aparche over the course of the second century BC. Other known classes of people required to contribute were, for instance, brides, freedmen, contractors, office‐holders, shepherds and goatherds, and land‐ holders.22 In classical Athens, maidens were expected to make a cult payment before marriage. A thesauros in the early fourth century discovered not far from the Athenian acropolis is inscribed: θησα̣υρὸς ἀπαρχε̑ς ὁ̣ | Ἀφροδίτει Οὐρανίαι | προτέλεια γάμο: ├ (‘offering box for an aparche, the one for Aphrodite Ourania: a pre‐marriage offering, one drachma’).23 The term προτέλεια refers to an offering made before any solemnity, such as before marriage‐rites,24 and here aparche is used as its equivalent, meaning a ‘preliminary payment’. We do not know if every Athenian bride paid an aparche as a proteleia, but many probably did so to secure Aphrodite’s blessings for their married life. Pre‐marriage offerings (in cash or in kind) for other deities were also regulated in other parts of Greece, but no other surviving instances are termed aparchai.25 On Cos, in her unifying capacity as a goddess of ‘all‐people’ (Pandamos), Aphrodite received contributions from freedmen (τοὶ ἐλευθερούμενοι), who had to pay five drachmai as an aparche in the year in which they were freed, in addition to what was paid earlier (amount unspecified).26 These aparchai required of freedmen were different in character from first offerings made voluntarily by manumitted slaves in gratitude for and in commemoration of being freed.27 Among those also obliged to make contributions were office‐holders. A third‐ century decree from an unidentified Attic deme mentions an eparche levied on office‐holders: ‘the eparche which the (p.256) demesmen offer, each of them from whatever office he obtains by lot, for the building of the temples/ sanctuaries and the dedications’ (τε̑ι ἐπαρχε̑ι ἣν ἐπάρχονται οἱ δημόται ἀπὸ τῆς ἀρχῆς ἓκαστος ἧς ἂν λάχει εἰς τὴν οἰκοδομίαν τῶν ἱερῶν καὶ τῶν ἀναθημάτων).28 Whitehead associates this levy with some financial crisis in the deme: it ‘evidently suffered some calamitous damage to the fabric of its cult center: an extraordinary damage levy (eparche) was imposed on the deme’s officials.’29 From what we have seen so far, however, this tax on deme officials was perhaps not so ‘extraordinary’: it was a normal method of fund‐raising for the maintenance of cults and shrines. A Hellenistic Coan text, regulating the priesthood of Hermes Enagonios (‘Of Games’), refers to an aparche payable to

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A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance Hermes from contractors for sacred or public work (τοὶ ἐργωνήσαντες), but the text is broken on the edges where the sum would probably have been stated.30 That religious contributions might be made, not in monetary form, but directly from what individuals produced, can be illustrated nicely by a sacrificial calendar from the town of Thebes at Mount Mycale in Asia Minor. The text from the mid‐fourth century requires goatherds (οἱ τὰς αἶγας βόσκοντες) to offer to Hermes a young goat from their own herds, and shepherds (οἱ τὰς πρόβατα βόσκοντες) a lamb from their flock if there were five new‐born, as a ‘shearing offering’ (κούρειον), along with offerings of cheeses, cakes, and wine from both groups.31 A koureion usually refers to a sacrifice offered for the induction of boys into the phratry on the third day of the Attic festival Apatouria, called Koureotis. At Thebes, however, this koureion was a shearing offering of goats and sheep.32 Though not described as (p.257) aparchai, the young animals may be thought of as aparchai of the proceeds from the wool collected at shearing time. The practice is very similar to what we are dealing with in this chapter: the offering of an aparche was made compulsory and turned into a kind of tax. The element of coercion is possibly suggested by the reference to oaths sworn to the gods at the beginning of the text. The oaths’ content is not preserved, but they probably bound the goatherds and shepherds, inter alia, to make the offerings prescribed here.33 Just as pastoralists might be expected to contribute some of their young animals, tenants of sacred land were often required to give part of their agricultural produce. In the fourth century BC, Xenophon established a sanctuary of Ephesian Artemis at Scillus near Olympia using the goddess’s share of the dekate entrusted to him (from the booty taken by the Ten Thousand during the long march). A stele inscribed with the following law was set up beside the temple, requiring whoever held the land and enjoyed its fruits to offer a tenth in sacrifice every year, and to use any surplus for furnishing the temple: ἱερὸς ὁ χῶρος τῆς Ἀρτέμιδος. τὸν ἔχοντα καὶ καρπούμενον τὴν μὲν δεκάτην καταθύειν ἑκάστου ἔτους. ἐκ δὲ τοῦ περιττοῦ τὸν ναὸν ἐπισκευάζειν. ἂν δὲ τις μὴ ποιῇ ταῦτα τῇ θεῷ μελήσει.34 The place is sacred to Artemis. He who holds it and enjoys its fruits must offer the tithe every year in sacrifice, and from the remainder must keep the temple in repair. If any one leaves these things undone, the goddess will look to it. Interestingly enough, a small marble plaque of the late second to early third century AD, found on Ithaca, is inscribed with exactly the same regulation.35 Whether this is a later copy of Xenophon’s inscription, (p.258) or an ancient forgery, or a law for another cult foundation is disputed.36 In both texts the word dekate retains its partial sense, denoting most probably a literal tenth of the Page 5 of 28

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance proceeds from the sale of the agricultural produce with which to offer a sacrifice (δεκάτην καταθύειν).37 More generally, the leasing of sacred land was a way of generating sacred revenue;38 the land rent could be in various proportions and was not necessarily a tenth. Thus in the fourth century, to finance sacrifices at the Little Panathenaea, the sacred land in Nea was leased out for a rent of a fiftieth (πεντηκοστή), procuring an income of 41,000 drachmai for the festival.39 We may be dealing with a similar phenomenon in a fourth‐century lex sacra on Thera. It concerns a temenos for the Mother of the Gods, established apparently by an individual called Archinos. The marble stele marking its boundary carries a law requiring the sacrifice of epargmata twice a year: Οὖροι γᾶς Θεῶν Ματρί. θεὸς ἀγαθᾶι τ|ύχαι ἀγαθοῦ δ|αίμονος. θυσία | Ἀρχίνου· τῶι ἔτ|ει τῶι πρατίστ|ωι θύσοντι βοῦ|ν καὶ πυρῶν ἐγ | μεδίμνου καὶ | κριθᾶν ἐγ δύο μ| εδίμνων καὶ οἴνο|υ μετρητὰν και ἄλλα | ἐπάργματα ὧν αἱ ὧρ|αι φέρουσιν, μηνὸς Ἀρτε|μισίου πέμπται ἱσταμ|ένου καὶ μηνὸς Ὑακινθίο|υ πέμπται ἱσταμένου.40 Boundaries of the land of the Mother of the gods. God, with good fortune of the good daimon. Sacrifice of Archinos: in the first year they will sacrifice an ox, and of wheat from a medimnos, and barley from two medimnoi, and a measure of wine and other epargmata from what the seasons bring, on the fifth of the month Artemisios and of the month Hyakinthios. (p.259) It is unclear whether the offerings were to include an ox and epargmata taken from various kinds of seasonal produce, or whether a sacrificial cake representing an ox was to be made from the prescribed portions of wheat, barley, and other epargmata.41 Curiously the text does not make explicit who was so obliged, but it presumably concerned tenants of the sacred land as Ziehen and Sokolowski supposed. Accordingly, it would be reminiscent of Xenophon’s lex sacra. It is also noteworthy that, like the word aparche, the term apargmata has its prefix apo replaced by epi to signify ‘religious contributions’ or ‘religious payments’.42 Compared to marble and bronze dedications in the preceding chapters, which were at least ideally permanent adornments of the gods, these cult payments (mostly in cash and sometimes in kind) were much more readily disposable as a source of wealth for the sanctuaries.43 Profits accruing from the contributions might be used for the upkeep of the cults in various ways, including the remuneration of priestly officials. The Asclepius diagraphe on Cos specifies that the thesauros was to be opened each year; the priest was to get a third of the aparchai collected from the sacrifiants; the other two‐thirds were to pay for a Page 6 of 28

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance dedication (anathema) in the sanctuary.44 The priestess of Aphrodite on Cos was assigned a larger share: she was to get half of the aparchai paid by the sacrifiants, whereas the other half would go to the public bank (δαμόσια τράπεζα) for constructions and repair of the sanctuary according to the assembly’s decisions.45 Where an animal sacrifice was performed, religious (p. 260) officials would often be entitled to certain sacrificial portions. Thus at the public feast at Mycale, the eisagontes, probably the priests and their assistants who led the young animals to the altar,46 were to receive specified shares of the koureia before the rest was distributed among the people. This is typical of the common practice of prescribing sacrificial portions in leges sacrae for the officiating priests (and other religious officials), so as to ensure the officials their perquisites, while at the same time protecting the worshippers from being exploited. Nevertheless, as was discussed in Chapter 1, priestly perquisites were normally termed ἱερεώσυνα and γέρα, but not ἀ/ἐπαρχή.47 The Hellenistic lex sacra from Patara in Lycia is unusual in this respect: apparently the priest was to receive a portion termed aparche as his priestly due. This is a rare instance where an aparche, instead of a traditional ‘first offering’ for the gods or a ‘religious payment’ (for various cult purposes), went entirely to the priest, so that the word signifies essentially a ‘priestly portion’. Nevertheless, we need not suppose that religious officials were the sole beneficiaries of religious payments. A/eparche, dekatai, and a/epargmata might also finance a sacrifice and a common meal for the enjoyment of all. At Mycale the young animals brought by the shepherds and goatherds were to support a sacrifice and a public banquet, during which the Thebans and the citizens would enjoy meat.48 In the above lex sacra from Thera, depending on whether the offerings consisted of an ox and agricultural epargmata, or a vegetarian representation of such, the local community could enjoy a sacrifice or simple vegetarian food twice a year. At Artemis’ sanctuary at Scillus there was to be a sacrifice supported by a tenth of the proceeds from the agricultural produce, to be performed in an annual festival in which men and women from the neighbouring places would take part.49 (p.261) More frequently the money would be used to provide dedications (anathemata), furnish a temple, or build a temple or a shrine.50 A fragmentary fourth‐century decree moved by Lycurgus has a reference to ‘the adornments for Athena Itonia from the aparche from her precincts’ ([τ]ῆι Ἀθηνᾶι τῆι Ἰτωνη[ι τοὺς κόσ]μους ἐκ τῆς ἀπαρχῆς τῆς ἀπὸ τῶν τε[μενῶν).51 As mentioned earlier, at the beginning of the third century office‐holders in an Attic deme were required to pay an eparche ‘for the building of the temples/sanctuaries and the dedications’ (εἰς τὴν οἰκοδομίαν τῶν ἱερῶν καὶ τῶν ἀναθημάτων).52 As we shall see shortly, temple rebuilding in Delphi formed a major occasion for the collection of contributions, albeit voluntary ones, called eparchai from private individuals and cities in different parts of the Greek world.

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A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance III. Voluntary religious contributions In 373/2 BC the temple of Apollo at Delphi was destroyed by fire and/or earthquake. This led to a fund‐raising campaign which encouraged individuals and cities to contribute money for its reconstruction. Epigraphic records of the funds for rebuilding administered by the naopoioi (‘temple builders’) attest to three sources of contributions: a compulsory levy of one obol per head (ἐπικέφαλος ὀβολός) on the population of members of the Amphictiony, voluntary donations (eparchai) by non‐Amphictionic cities and individuals, and a particular contribution imposed on the Delphians.53 The funds were listed on stelai, normally with the ἐπικέφαλος ὀβολός recorded first, followed by a list of cities and individuals paying eparchai under the formula τάδε πόλεις καὶ ἰδιῶται ἐπάρξαντο ταύται τᾶι πυλαίαι (‘cities and private individuals contributed eparchai as follows in this (p.262) Pylaia’), and finally the total amount received.54 Instead of obligatory payments of a fixed sum, these eparchai were voluntary donations of varying amounts from cities and individuals,55 collected by officials known as argyrologoi.56 After the Third Sacred War (356–346 BC), however, the ἐπικέφαλος ὀβολός was suspended, hence several inscriptions record eparchai only.57 Thereafter it appears that contributions from both Amphictionic and non‐Amphictionic cities were listed under the eparchesthai rubric. The non‐Amphictionic states known to have contributed eparchai include Stratos and Phoetiae (350 drachmai), Naxos (350 drachmai), Messene (70 drachmai), Naucratis in Egypt (350 drachmai), Phigaleia (70 drachmai), Megalopolis (200 drachmai), Anaea in Ionia (126 Phocian hectes), Heraclea in Italy (100 Italian nomoi), and Lacedaemon (510 Aeginetan drachmai).58 State contributions are more or less consistently indicated in the naopoioi accounts with a formula expressing the name of the city, the amount, the verb ἤνικε/ἤνικαν, and the state representative(s) who brought the money: an example is Φοιτιεῖς καὶ Στράτιοι δραχμὰς τριακοσίας πεντήκοντα, ἤνικαν δὲ τὸ ἀργύριον Πυρροίτας Στράτιος, Δράκων Φοιτιεύς (‘the people of Phoetiae and Stratos 350 drachmai, Pyrroitas of Stratos (and) Drakon of Phoetiae brought the money’).59 Sometimes state delegates who (p.263) conveyed an eparche on behalf of their city might also make a private donation in their own name. Nikolochos, who brought an eparche for Megalopolis, also contributed a drachma himself: Μεγαλοπολῖται ἐξ Ἀρκαδίας δραχμὰς διακοσίας· ἤνικεν Νικόλοχος Προξένου. Νικόλοχος Μεγαλοπολίτας δραχμάν (‘Megalopolitans from Arcadia 200 drachmai; Nikolochos son of Proxenos brought it. Nikolochos the Megalopolitan a drachma’).60 Of particular interest are the eparchai from private individuals. Both male and female donors are attested; some of them are listed together with their children or other family members. Their geographical distribution is fairly wide. Davies notes an inverse relationship between the distance from Delphi and the propensity to contribute: there were altogether fourteen private donations from Page 8 of 28

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance Thessaly, eighteen from Central Greece, one hundred and four from Ionia and the Aegean, forty‐eight from the Peloponnese, and thirty‐four from the outliers.61 The value of private donations varies: most of them were a few drachmai, but they could be as little as one obol. We also have two exceptionally large sums of seventy drachmai, each from a private individual.62 Theodorus, a famous Athenian tragic actor at the time, might have been performing in Delphi and so wanted to express his piety and status by offering an eparche of his earnings.63 The other seventy drachmai came from an Apollonian Timeas, of unknown background.64 The list in 362/1 BC mentions a family group from Carystus offering eparchai. The entry reads: Ἀριστίς, Κλεαριστίς, Ἀριστοκλῆς ὀβολοὺς πέντε, Κλεάριστος Καρύστιος δραχμὰς δύο (‘Aristis, Klearistis, and Aristokles five obols, Klearistos a Carystian two drachmai’). (p.264) Klearistos contributed two drachmai as an eparche, while his three children paid five obols together. Noting that Klearistos’ father Aristokles, who was Lysander’s admiral, had a statue in Delphi, some scholars think that Klearistos might have travelled with his children to Delphi to attend the Pythian games in 362 BC and to show them their grandfather’s statue.65 Nevertheless, not everyone whose name appears in the building accounts need have visited Delphi in person. Might the father have donated a small sum in the name of his three children? Was there any mechanism to allow those who could not afford the journey to make donations nevertheless? Might Delphi have sent out representatives (note that the argyrologoi literally mean ‘money‐collectors’) to collect eparchai? The background of most private contributors and the actual mechanism by which the donations reached Delphi remain irrecoverable. Eparchai worth a few obols or drachmai were simply token offerings rather than ‘first offerings’, not dissimilar to the random sums one may insert into an offering box when going to church today.

IV. Sacred fines Sacred fines remain an obscure subject awaiting more systematic research; here we shall focus on the dekate of fines set aside as the gods’ share (the words aparche and eparche are not used in this context). In Classical Athens it appears to have been a regular practice for a tenth of confiscated property to be paid into Athena’s treasury, and this applied mainly to fines for serious political offences. Shortly after the restoration of the Athenian democracy in 410/09, Demophantus carried a decree under which a tenth of the property confiscated from anyone who tried to overthrow the democracy would be paid to Athena: ἐάν τις δημοκρατίαν καταλύῃ τὴν Ἀθήνησιν, ἢ ἀρχήν τινα ἄρχῃ καταλελυμένης τῆς δημοκρατίας, πολέμιος ἔστω Ἀθηναίων καὶ νηποινεὶ τεθνάτω, καὶ τὰ χρήματα αὐτοῦ δημόσια ἔστω, καὶ τῆς θεοῦ τὸ ἐπιδέκατον.66

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A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance (p.265) If anyone overthrows the democracy at Athens, or holds any office when the democracy has been overthrown, he shall be an enemy of the Athenians and shall be killed with impunity, and his property shall be confiscated and a tenth part of it devoted to the Goddess. This may be compared to the foundation decree of the Second Athenian League in 378/7, which stipulates that anyone who made a proposal contrary to the decree should be deprived of his rights (ἄτιμος), and his property made public, with a tenth going to Athena.67 Similar provisions were made for some other offences.68 Where other cities were involved, the recipient divinity was not necessarily Athena. In Athens’ settlement decree with Chalcis in 446/5, any Chalcidian citizens who failed to swear the oath of loyalty and obedience to Athens would be without rights, his property made public, and Olympian Zeus (presumably in Chalcis) would receive a tithe.69 In all these instances the word used for the tenth part for the deity was τὸ ἐπιδέκατον. In the above cases the offenders would have all their property confiscated, a tenth of which would go to the deity and the rest to the state. The phenomenon is very similar to the military practice of setting aside a tenth of the spoils for the gods discussed in Chapter 6: both cases involve large‐scale appropriation of property by the state, both concern the state’s voluntary decision to share its windfalls with the gods. It was in keeping with the customary practice of giving the gods a share of whatever profit was received that tithes of confiscated property were offered. A similar division of profits between the gods and the city is seen in offences concerning olive trees, but total confiscation was not involved in this case: according to a passage in (p.266) Demosthenes, anyone who dug up an olive tree except for certain purposes would be fined 100 drachmai for each tree. The sum would go into the public treasury, a tenth of which would belong to the goddess (ὀφείλειν ἑκατὸν δραχμὰς τῷ δημοσίῳ τῆς ἐλάας ἑκάστης, τὸ δὲ ἐπιδέκατον τούτου τῆς θεοῦ εἶναι).70 Some offences entailed fines of a fixed amount payable to the gods alone, but not to the state.71 On the other hand, some offences incurred penalties that would go to the state (and were sometimes shared with the informer) but not the gods.72 The question of how cities determined how much of the fine—all of it, a portion, or none at all—should belong to the gods is hardly explained, though this is probably related to the nature of the crime and the amount of the fine.

V. Conclusion The a/eparchai considered in this chapter were ‘fees’, ‘payments’, or ‘donations’ for religious purposes, with a different character from the traditional ‘first offerings’. Without representing a portion of a greater source, they were usually fixed sums of money as far as cult fees and payments were concerned. The much-diminished sense of a ‘portion’ is reflected in the replacement of the prefix apo‐ with epi‐ in eparche, eparchesthai, and epargmata, though the usual forms Page 10 of 28

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance aparche, aparchesthai, and apargmata were also used, sometimes interchangeably with the former in the same text.73 We have thus moved a long way, from aparchai as traditional first offerings made (p.267) voluntarily using a portion of one’s resources, to religious obligations of fixed sums or values payable at specified times or on specified occasions (with the exception of the donations for Delphi). Nevertheless, despite this shift in meaning, the term a/ eparche is used invariably with a religious significance, whereas dekate can denote payments in both the religious and non‐religious spheres.74 The dual aspect of dekate can be illustrated with a third‐ or second‐century Cretan inscription containing regulations imposed by Gortyn on a dependent island Gaudos: it requires the people of Gaudos to pay dekatai (taxes) of various products to Gortyn, and dekatai (offerings) to Apollo Pythios from whatever washed ashore from the sea. Both the religious and non‐religious payments are denoted by the word dekatai here.75 Unlike a/eparche, the word dekate retains its partial sense when used in cult finance. The dekate of the land’s produce and that of confiscated property seen earlier are likely to be a literal tenth of the total profits. The application of the word a/eparche to the sphere of sacred finance is an interesting extension which deserves discussion. Long ago, Andreades’ study of Greek public finance identified four key terms used for taxes or levies in Classical Greece: φόρος, σύνταξις, τέλος, and εἰσφορά, but not ἀ/ἐπαρχή.76 Other terms commonly used in cult finance are προτέλεια and πελανός.77 Thus the woman in Herodas’ Fourth Mime inserts a coin into a money‐box as a πελανός.78 Very (p.268) often, however, no specific terms are used for cult fees at all. A lex sacra in Erythrae in the fourth century, and another from Halicarnassus in the third, similarly require a cash fee on the occasion of sacrifice; in both inscriptions the amount is simply stated without any specific Greek terms.79 In the late fifth century a Lindian decree requires those embarking on campaigns from Lindos to pay one‐sixtieth (ἑξηκοστή) of their wages to the military god Enyalios, but this is not referred to as an aparche or eparche either.80 These few cases suffice to show that the word a/eparche is far from being systematically applied to religious payments, and that there were no fixed ways of expressing cult payments in leges sacrae. The question therefore arises as to why some religious payments, but not others, should be called a/ eparchai. One possibility is the transformation of previously voluntary ‘first offerings’ into required ‘cult payments’. It may be observed that the persons obliged to pay an a/eparche were very often the ones closely associated with the cult in question, and hence most likely to make contributions.81 Thus it might have been customary for Athenian maidens before marriage to bring an offering to Aphrodite Ourania (‘Of Heaven’) in her role as a marriage deity. Traders, shipowners, and fishermen might have originally offered part of their profits as an aparche to Aphrodite Pontia (‘Of the Sea’), their protecting divinity at sea, Page 11 of 28

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance after a safe and profitable voyage.82 Shepherds and goatherds are likely to have traditionally honoured Hermes Ktenites (‘Of Herds’) as the protector of livestock.83 A practice initially prescribed by custom probably came to be formalized over time, but the term was nevertheless retained. Seen in this way, the phenomenon was not entirely divorced from the traditional cult practice, though admittedly we do not know if all of these cult fees and taxes had such a spontaneous origin, and not all payments examined in this chapter can be thus explained. For instance, the requirement that office‐holders in an Attic deme should contribute an eparche (the divine recipient is not preserved) seems to be related to the Hellenistic practice of linking (p.269) public functions with financial obligations, rather than a codification of a previously close connection between office‐holders and a particular deity.84 Ancient Egypt provides an interesting parallel to how a first offering that worshippers had customarily made in kind and of their own accord became an obligatory monetary payment: vine‐growers used to offer a libation to Dionysus, the god of wine, as first‐fruits using a portion of the first wine obtained from the new grapes. Evidence from papyri shows that, by the second century AD or earlier, the libation came to be replaced with a wine tax fixed almost always at eight drachmai, but the phrase σπονδή Διονύσου was nevertheless kept, with sponde meaning a ‘payment’.85 This is comparable to the Greek πελανός, originally a vegetarian offering, but later signifying a monetary payment.86 Whether or not a spontaneous origin can be traced for all the Greek a/eparchai, the extension or borrowing of a term charged with religious significance could emphasize the sacred character of the payment, and thereby make it more palatable to those expected or required to make it.87 Most of the first offerings seen in the preceding chapters were voluntary offerings prescribed by social custom rather than by law: usually no provisions were made to stipulate the act of offering, the amount or portion to be offered, or when to offer it.88 However, the a/eparchai and dekatai in this chapter (apart from the voluntary contributions to Delphi) were obligatory payments of a specified amount, required of certain individuals as set out in the religious regulations. Even in the case of donations to Delphi, the eparchai were at least encouraged or sought in the fund‐raising campaign, whereas normally first offerings were not called for by the gods or religious authorities. It was the element of compulsion (or appeal in Delphi’s case) that marked these a/eparchai and dekatai as different. Different again is the nature of compulsion in the dekatai of sacred fines: while the individual offenders were obliged to pay, it was the voluntary decision of the city to give a tenth to the gods. Despite the expectation that certain groups of individuals should pay, it is often difficult to know how closely the regulations were (p.270) observed and whether payments were enforceable. Where an a/eparche was a necessary precondition for divine service, there would be less room for evasion. In the Page 12 of 28

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance Amphiareium at Oropus, not only would someone seeking a cure have to drop the fee into the thesauros in the presence of the neokoros (temple warden) or the priest before treatment, his name and city would also be recorded in a register by the neokoros.89 Sometimes a breach of the regulations would incur fines. The Aphrodite diagraphe on Cos mentions penalties for those who failed to perform what was prescribed, giving the priestess (and the lessee to whom the dues were leased out) the power to ‘exact payment as if in fulfilment of a legal verdict’ (ἁ δὲ πρᾶξις ἔστω…καθάπερ ἐγ δίκας).90 Instead of fines, in some cases the consequence of non‐payment was a bad conscience. Anyone who failed to pay when sacrificing to Theagenes on Thasos was to be enthumistos: he could expect divine anger or evil.91 This is comparable to Ephesian Artemis’ cult at Scillus: ‘the goddess will see to it if anyone does not do these things’ (ἂν δὲ τις μὴ ποιῇ ταῦτα τῇ θεῷ μελήσει).92 The use of such threats in leges sacrae reflects a concern for, and an attempt to guard against, non‐payment. In other cases where no provisions were made to ensure payments,93 it remains unclear whether payments were enforceable, and if so, how. It was for practical reasons that a/eparchai and dekatai were required or requested: they were intended to meet the financial needs of particular cults, some of which were newly established (such as that of Bendis)94 and local cults (such as at the deme Piraeus)95 which would probably have lacked sufficient sources of funds otherwise. In Delphi, the eparchai were intended to meet the emergency of a specific project, namely the reconstruction of the (p.271) (p. 272)

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A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance

Table 1. A/eparchai, dekatai and a/epargmata in cult finance Source

Date

Place

Cult

Individuals concerned

Amount

Use of Terms used contributions

(a)

IG I3 8, SEG LVII 55

c.460–450

Sunium

—

Shipowners

[5?] obols for local ships, more for visiting vessels

—

apạ[rche]?

(b)

IG I3 130

c.432

Piraeus, Athens

Apollo Delios? Zeus Soter?

Shipowners

1 dr.

Building

apa[rche], eparche

(c)

IG I3 136

c.413/2?

Piraeus, Athens

Bendis

—

—

[Sacrifice]?

eparche

(d)

Petrakos (199 c.402–387 7), no. 276 = LSS 35

Oropus

Amphiaraus

[Those who seek cures]

> 1 Boeotian dr.

—

[eparche]

(e)

SEG XLI 182

early 4th C

Athens

Aphrodite Ourania

Maidens getting married

1 dr.

—

aparche, proteleia

(f)

Xen. An. 5.3.13

early 4th C

Scillus

Ephesian Artemis

Tenants of sacred land

A tenth of (the profit from) agricultural produce

Sacrifice (kat dekate athuein), furnishing the temple

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A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance

Source

Date

Place

Cult

Individuals concerned

Amount

Use of Terms used contributions

(g)

Petrakos (199 c.386–374 7), no. 277 = RO 27

Oropus

Amphiaraus

Whoever intends to be cured

> 1.5 dr. (in any legal currency)

—

(h)

I.Priene 362 = LSAM 39

mid‐4th C

Thebes at Mycale

Hermes

Shepherds and goatherds

A kid and a lamb

Sacrifice, a koupreion banquet, perquisites of religious officials

(i)

IG II2 333 = IG II/III3445

c.335/4

Athens

Athena Itonia —

—

Adornment for the goddess

aparche

(j)

LSS 46 = IG XII.9 192

c.308/7

Eretria

Dionysos

—

eparchesthai

(k)

IG XII.3 436 = LSCG 134

4th C

Thera

Mother of the Tenants of Gods sacred land? (not made explicit)

A twice‐ yearly sacrifice in kind

—

epargmata

(l)

SEG IV 187–8 4th/3rd C = McCabe, Halikarnassos nos 34, 36

—

—

apargmata

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Halicarnassus Demeter Demosia (and ?)

Choruses — (obligatory or voluntary?)

—

eparche

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance

Source

Date

Place

Cult

Individuals concerned

Amount

Use of Terms used contributions

(m)

Agora XVI 160

early 3rd C

Piraeus, Athens

—

—

—

Building?

eparche, eparchesthai, epidosis, epididonai

(n)

IG II2 1215

early 3rd C

Unidentified Attic deme

—

Office‐holders —

Building, anathema

eparche, eparchesthai

(o)

LSCG 155, IG 242 or shortly Cos XII.4 71 before

Asclepius

—

—

—

aρ̣[archai]

(p)

LSCG 88

—

Those who sacrifice

?

—

aparchesthai

(q)

Parker and second half of Cos Obbink (2001 the 3rd or a), no. 6 = early 2nd C SEG LI 1062, IG XII.4 298

Hermes Enagonios

Contractors

—

—

aparchesthai

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c.230?

Olbia

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance

Source

Date

Place

Cult

Individuals concerned

Amount

Use of Terms used contributions

(r)

Parker and c.125–100 Obbink (2000) , no. 1 = SEG L 766, IG XII. 4 319

Cos

Aphrodite Pandamos and Pontia

Those who sacrifice, freedmen, fishermen, shipowners

(i) Sacrifiants: different for different animals (ii) Shipowners, fisherman, freedmen: 5 dr.

(i) Half for aparche, the priestess, aparchesthai half for constructions and repair of the sanctuary

(s)

Parker and early 1st C Obbink (2001 a), no. 4A = SEG LI 1066, IG XII.4 294

Cos

Asclepius

Those who sacrifice

Same as (r) (i) above

One‐third for aparche the priest, two‐thirds for an anathema

(t)

LSS 72

Thasos

Theagenes

Those who sacrifice

> 1 obol

Anathema or kataskeuasm a

aparchesthai, eparchesthai

(u)

Engelmann (2 Hellenistic 007), 134–5

Patara in Lycia

—

Those who sacrifice

A sacrificial portion?

Priestly perquisites

aparche

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1st C

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance

Source

(v)

Date

LSCG 86 = IG 2nd C AD? 2

IX.1 1700

Place

Cult

Individuals concerned

Amount

Use of Terms used contributions

Ithaca

Artemis

Tenants of sacred land

A tenth of (the profit from) agricultural produce

Sacrifice (kat dekate athuein), furnishing the temple

— indicates that no information is available in the inscriptions. dr. = drachma/ai. C = century.

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A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance (p.273) temple of Apollo. On Cos, and doubtless in other eastern Greek cities where sale of priesthoods is attested, such payments could increase the income of the priests or priestess and therefore the value of the priesthoods. More generally, these payments were necessitated by the need to generate sacred revenue for the upkeep of cult activities and the sacred personnel.96 We are presented here with the dual role of the gods as givers and takers. To what extent did the Greek gods depend on people’s contributions? Were they benefactors or beneficiaries when seen in this light? It was suggested in Chapter 2 that the honour conferred on the divinities was more important than the actual value of the aparchai or dekatai, and that the sustenance of the Greek gods did not depend on gifts from mortals. And yet the a/eparchai and dekatai in this chapter evidently had a practical function in the financing and maintenance of their cults.

This apparent contradiction can be resolved if we consider the religious contributions not as mere payments, but as a means of paying back the gods for divine services enjoyed. Whereas the gods may appear to have been the ones in need of funds in this chapter, these contributions did not invalidate the gods’ role as the source of all things, who had a claim to a share of the benefits they granted to mankind. Thus fishermen and traders required Aphrodite Pontia’s protection at sea; pastoralists depended on the favours of Hermes Ktenites; ordinary individuals might seek treatment from Amphiaraus. It is precisely because of past benefits received and further benefits hoped for—such as blessings after marriage, healing, maritime protection, and oracular advice from Delphic Apollo—from the gods that individuals were willing to contribute to the upkeep of their cults. Implicit in the payments is their recognition of the gods’ role in bestowing good (and evil), and their need for the continued existence and healthy functioning of their cults. These a/eparchai and dekatai therefore need not be seen as completely isolated from the traditional aparchai; they illustrate once again the relationship of mutual interdependence between mortals and the divine. Notes:

(1) Existing discussions of cult finance are, inter alia, Andreades (1933), 190–3, Schlaifer (1940), 233–41, Sokolowski (1954), Linders (1992), Migeotte (2006), and Chankowski (2011). Pafford (2006) is an unpublished dissertation on ‘cult fees and the ritual of money’, with a chapter on aparche, but she is primarily interested in what she calls the ‘ritualized nature’ of coined aparchai, and the administrative similarities between the Eleusinian aparchai in IG I3 78 and other leges sacrae (especially IG I3 6) establishing coin fees. (2) Epigraphic sources referred to in Sections I and II are collected in Table 1 at the end of this chapter. (3) Parker (2009b) discusses the ambiguity of the word θύειν: it could be used both of the worshipper who brought an animal for sacrifice (le sacrifiant) and the officiating priest (le sacrificateur). The phrase τοὶ θύοντες in the inscriptions mentioned in this chapter refers to individuals who brought victims for sacrifice; Page 19 of 28

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance I shall refer to them as les sacrifiants following the useful French distinction made by Hubert and Mauss (1964 [1897–8]), and used by Parker. On ‘sacred laws’, see Parker (2004d), Lupu (2009), 3–112 (59–60 on sacrificial payments specifically), 502–4, Carbon and Pirenne‐Delforge (2012). (4) Probably a sheep is meant: Stengel (1920), 123, Sokolowski in LSCG 88, followed by IGDOP no. 88. (5) This has been variously supplemented. IosPE I2, no. 76: [τ]έ[ρφ]ους (skin); SEG III 587: τεμ[ά]χους (slice of fish); LSCG 88: sheep’s wool (no supplement provided); IGDOP no. 88: [δ]έ[λφ]ους (pig). (6) Sokolowski (1954), 157: ‘they seem to be paid not only for the service and for the implements, but for the victims themselves.’ But the prices are still too high for the victims in Sokolowski’s view. Cf. IGDOP no. 88, pp. 140–1. (7) On priesthood texts, see Parker and Obbink (2000), esp. 419–29, Parker (2006). (8) Parker and Obbink (2000), no. 1 (= SEG L 766), IG XII.4 319 (lines 10–12, tr. Parker and Obbink). (9) Parker and Obbink (2001a), no. 4A.6–9 (= SEG LI 1066.6–9), see now IG XII.4 294.15–18 (with slightly different supplements). The original construction of a thesauros at the Asclepieion and the collection of aparchai are mentioned in an earlier Coan inscription, LSCG 155, see now IG XII.4 71 (242 BC or shortly before). (10) It is unclear how much animals would cost in the first century BC. But in fourth‐century Athens, the figures given by Rosivach (1994), 95–106, are, for an ox forty to ninety drachmai, an adult sheep twelve to fifteen drachmai, a goat ten to twelve drachmai, a swine twenty to forty drachmai, and a piglet three drachmai. (11) LSS 72.A: τοὺς θύοντας τῷ Θεογένηι [Θα]σ[ίω]ι ἀπάρχεσθαι εἰς τὸν θησαυρὸν μὴ ἔλασσον ὀβολοῦ· τῶι δὲ μὴ ἀπαρξαμένωι καθότι προγέγραπται ἐνθυμιστὸν εἶναι. See also Martin (1940–1), Chamoux (1979). On enthumios and enthumistos, see Parker (1983), 252–4, and recently Karila‐Cohen (2010). (12) On the effects of the adoption of coinage on religious activities, see Davies (2001b), Von Reden (2010), ch. 6, Goodenough (2011), 156 ff. The forms and functions of thesauroi are discussed in Rups (1986) and Kaminski (1991). (13) Engelmann (2007), 134–5 (= SEG LVII 1674): τοὺς θὺοντας | Διὶ Λαβραύνδωι | ἤ τῶν ἐντεμενίων θεῶν τινι | διδόναι τῶι ἱερεῖ ἀπαρχήν | ἀφ′ ἑκάστου ἱερεου πλάτα ἴσον· | ἄλλωι δὲ μηθενὶ ἐξέστω συναγωγὴν |

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A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance ποιεῖσθαι μηδὲ καταλύειν | ἐμ τῶι τεμένει πλὴν τῶν θυόντων. Discussed in Chapter 1, with n. 35. (14) Earlier text: LSS 35, Petropoulou (1981), no. 1 (= SEG XXXI 415), Petrakos (1997), no. 276. Petrakos avoids supplements in line 4; I here cite the Greek text in Petropoulou. Cf. Sokolowski in LSS 35: [‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ τὸν ἑκάστοτ]ε ἐμβάλ[λ]οντα εἰς τὸ[ν] [θησαυρόν ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ μὴ ἔλαττον δρα]χμῆς βοιωτίης (lines 4–5). (15) Later text: Petropoulou (1981), no. 2 (= SEG XXXI 416), Petrakos (1997), no. 277, RO 27. The Greek text here is quoted from RO 27.20–4. Petropoulou sees in the Boeotian drachma an indication of Boeotian influence at Oropus, relating this change to ‘any legal currency’ to the end of Boeotian monopoly over coinage after the Boeotian confederacy was dissolved. Parker (1996), 146–9, discusses the oscillation between Theban and Athenian control over Oropus and the Athenian motives in promoting this cult. On the sanctuary at Oropus, see Roesch (1984). (16) Petropoulou (1981), 53, following Colin in FD III.2 88, p. 100. (17) IG I3 8.b15–19, with recent supplements in Lytle (2007), 109 n. 31 (= SEG LVII 55), reiterated in Lytle (2012), 22 n. 62: τὰ δ̣[ὲ] πλοῖ[α τὰ κατα|πλέοντα ἐς] Σούνιον ἒ hόσ᾽ἂν hορμ[ίζετ|αι παρὰ τὸ] Σούνιον̣ κ̣α̣[τ]αθιθέναι ἀπα̣[ρχὲν | τõι θεõι πέν]τ′ ὀβολ[ὸ]ς ἐπὶ τε̑ς τριετερί[δ|ος] (‘Ships sailing into Sunium, whatever ships are based out of Sunium will put down [as payment] an offering to the god worth five obols every three years’) (tr. Lytle). (18) IG I3 130. Schlaifer (1940), 234, suggested Zeus Soter. Lewis (1960) suggested Apollo Delios; followed by Garland (1991), 110–11. Lewis’s view is questioned by Mattingly (1990), 112–13 (= SEG XL 10), who proposes τὸς δὲ λί̣[θος] instead of τὸς Δελί̣[ος] in line 19, and who supposes Zeus Soter to be the god concerned here. However, both τὸς Δελί̣[ος] and τὸς δὲ λί̣[θος] are rejected by Matthaiou (2000–3) (= SEG LI 31) on the basis of autopsy, who reports that the letter following the lambda is not an iota, but another lambda, so that line 19 should read τὸς δ᾽ ΕΛΛ[–––––]. (19) Both words are used in this text: IG I3 130.7 (aparche), 18 (eparche). (20) Parker and Obbink (2000), no. 1 (= SEG L 766), IG XII.4 319 (lines 27–9). (21) Iscr. Cos, ED 178.A.a.21–4 = IG XII.4 302 a.21–4. (22) A useful collection of other classes of individuals obliged to make similar payments (but not specifically a/eparchai or dekatai) is provided by Parker and Obbink (2000), 428–9. (23) SEG XLI 182; Tsakos (1990–1), Kazamiakes (1990–1), Parker (1996), 196, Dillon (1999), 73. Page 21 of 28

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance (24) E.g. Aesch. Ag. 227, Eur. IA 718, IG I3 5.2 (supplemented); Hsch. s.v. προτέλεια; Burkert (1983 [1972]), 62–3 n. 20; LSJ s.v. προτέλεια. (25) E.g. LSCG 175.4–8 = IG XII.4 356.4–8: fees payable by ταὶ τελεύμεναι and ταὶ ἐπινυμφευόμεναι, probably those betrothed and those about to be married, to Demeter at Antimacheia on Cos in the fourth century BC; LSCG 163.1–2 = IG XII.4 330.1–2: sacrifice to Nike required of those who married in the shrine in second‐century Cos. On customary premarital rituals and sacrifices, see Dillon (1999), 71–4. (26) Parker and Obbink (2000), no. 1 (with other examples on p. 441 nn. 104–5) (= SEG L 766), IG XII.4 319 (lines 25–7). (27) Forrest (1963), 54, no. 3, SEG XXII 509 (discussed in Chapter 5). (28) IG II2 1215.13–16. Based on the stone’s find‐place at Kypseli, Whitehead (1986), 379, postulates that the deme may be Erikeia. (29) Whitehead (1986), 112. (30) Parker and Obbink (2001a), no. 6 (= SEG LI 1062), IG XII.4 298.A (lines 85– 8). (31) I.Priene 362 = LSAM 39, recently discussed in Thonemann (2011), 196–7. Depending on how εἰὰν πέντε τέκωσι (I.Priene 362.19 = LSAM 39.18) is interpreted—‘one out of every five new‐born’ (preferred by Sokolowski) or ‘if five (or more) are born’ (preferred by Thonemann (2011) and Mack (forthcoming) )— the offering from the lambs would be a proportional tax of twenty per cent or a maximum of twenty per cent respectively. There are parallels of aparchai proportional to the amount available, e.g. the 1/6 of allied tribute to Athena, and the 1/600 of barley and 1/1,200 of wheat to the two goddesses in IG I3 78, but twenty per cent would seem unusually high for shepherds. (32) Koureion at the Apatouria: e.g. IG II2 1237.28 = RO 5.28 (396/5 BC), Isae. 6.22, Lambert (1993), 161–8. On koureion as a shearing offering, see Labarbe (1953), 366–8 (‘une victime “immolée à l’occasion de la tonte” ’), Parker (2005), 458–9 with n. 13, LSJ Supplement, s.v. κούρειον, Jim (2012a), 316–17. On the connection between the timing of sacrifices and that of the stock‐rearing year, see Jameson (1988a), esp. 100–3. (33) Cf. Sokolowski in LSAM 39, who thought that the number of animals owed was concerned. (34) Xen. An. 5.3.13 (tr. Brownson). See also I.Smyrna 723 (second half of the third century): two horoi marking the temenos of Aphrodite Stratonikis in Smyrna mention a dekate as a source of sacred revenue. Another possible parallel, from a scrap of evidence preserved in Crates, FGrH 362 F 7 ap. Ath. Page 22 of 28

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance 6.235b–d, is the aparchai of the sacred grain collected by cult personnel called parasitoi in the cult of Athena Pallenis in the Attic deme Pallene; the goddess probably owned a sacred landholding: see Schlaifer (1943), Parker (1996), 330– 1, Papazarkadas (2011), 27 n. 54, 207 with n. 201. (35) LSCG 86, IG IX.12 1700 (=IG IX.1 654). (36) Dittenberger in IG IX.1, 654, followed by Ziehen in LGS II 83: probably an admirer of Xenophon made a copy in a period of revival of classical literature. Michel ap. Cumont (1913), no. 124, pp. 143–4, doubted the inscription’s authenticity on the basis of its letters, which are mixed with forms from different periods. Cf. Graindor (1922), 25–8, who considered its authenticity indisputable, thinking it not uncommon to use different forms for the same letter in a single inscription in the imperial period (citing parallels). (37) On καταθύειν, see Casabona (1966), 99–101 (with discussion of the present passage). (38) On the leasing of sacred land, see Osborne (1988), esp. 281–304, Isager and Skydsgaard (1992), ch. 8, Papazarkadas (2011). (39) RO 81.A.7–18. (40) IG XII.3 436, LSCG 134, LGS II 128. (41) Ziehen in LGS II 128 thought that a cake was meant, as two cows a year would be too expensive. On sacrificial cakes representing cows, see e.g. LSCG 25 (ἓβδομοι βόες), LSS 21, Kearns (1994), esp. 68. (42) On apargmata as cult payments, see also SEG IV 187–8: two fragmentary inventory lists in Halicarnassus in the fourth or third century BC record offerings for various divinities ἀπο τῶν ἀπαργμάτων; these apargmata apparently mean ‘cult fees’. (43) On the melting down of precious‐metal dedications as a potential source of wealth, see e.g. Thuc. 2.13.3–5, Linders (1989–90), and Chapter 7, n. 104. (44) Parker and Obbink (2001a), no. 4A.13–16 (= SEG LI 1066.13–16), IG XII.4 294.22–5. (45) Parker and Obbink (2000), no. 1 (= SEG L 766), IG XII.4 319 (lines 16–22). In Ptolemaic Egypt, grain officials (oikonomoi) had to contribute a fixed amount of wheat to the cult of Soknopaios every year as an aparche, as documented in I.Fayoum, vol. 1, no. 71 (with further bibliography) = OGIS 179 (95 BC, Fayoum). Préaux (1939), 531–2, estimated that the amount of wheat could feed eighteen priests annually.

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A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance (46) This follows Sokolowski’s view in LSAM 39. Cf. Mack (forthcoming), who interprets the eisagontes as pastoralists who brought in (i.e. provided) the animals, and their assigned portions as a recompense for their animals appropriated for communal feasting. (47) On priestly prerogatives, see bibliographical references in Chapter 1, n. 48. (48) The distinction between ‘the Thebans’ and ‘the citizens’ (presumably citizens of Miletus, on which Thebes was politically dependent) in I.Priene 362.26 = LSAM 39.25 is discussed in Thonemann (2011), 197. (49) Xen. An. 5.3.7–13; the festival is mentioned in 5.3.9. (50) Dedications: e.g. IG II2 1215, Parker and Obbink (2001a), no. 4A (= SEG LI 1066), IG XII.4 294, LSS 72 A. Furnishing the temple: e.g. Xen. An. 5.3.13, LSS 72.A. Building work: e.g. IG I3 130, Agora XVI 160, IG II2 1215. (51) IG II2 333.C.17–18; see now a new edition in Lambert (2005), 137–44, no. 6.17–18 (= SEG LIV 143), IG II/III3 445.36–7. (52) IG II2 1215. (53) Epigraphic records: CID II, nos 1–30. Roux (1979), esp. 137–72, Sánchez (2001), esp. 125–32. (54) E.g. CID II, nos 1, 3–4, and 10 record receipts of both the ἐπικέφαλος ὀβολός and the eparchai. (55) Cf. the fragmentary decree Agora XVI 160, which also mentions two kinds of religious contributions probably intended for some rebuilding (as indicated by the words οἰκοδομία and λίθος). The words eparche/eparchesthai and epidosis/ epididonai appear together: the epidosis signifies a voluntary contribution, whereas the eparche most probably refers to an obligatory payment levied on some demesmen. (56) Argyrologoi: e.g. CID II, nos 7.A.2–4, 10.A.I.9–12, 11.A.3–6, 11.B.4–6, 12.II. 13–14, 23.3–4, 24.I.11–14. (57) Bousquet in CID II, nos 11–12, 23–4; Sánchez (2001), 131. Cf. Roux (1979), 158, 161. (58) CID II, nos 1.II.16–23 (Stratos and Phoetiae), 4.I.16–19 (Naxos), 4.I.28–30 (Messene), 4.I.37–9 (Naucratis), 4.III.45–7 (Phigaleia), 4.III.50–3 (Megalopolis), 6.A.1–8 (Anaea), 6.B.2–9 (Heraclea in Italy), 24.I.15–22 (Lacedaemon). I have added Lacedaemon to the information conveniently collected in Bousquet, CID II, p. 11. It is arguable whether the 510 Aeginetan drachmai brought by King Cleomenes in 336 BC represented a public or private donation, but the way it is Page 24 of 28

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance recorded is in keeping with the formula used for eparchai contributed by cities, so a public donation seems more probable. Political motives behind the public contributions of Messene, Megalopolis, and Phigaleia have been conjectured by Davies (2001a), 219, Rutherford (2004), 110–11. (59) CID II, no. 1.II.16–23. (60) CID II, no. 4.III.50–7. (61) Female donors: e.g. at least six individual female contributors can be identified in the well‐preserved CID II, no. 4: Eurydika of Larissa, two drachmai (4.I.44–5), Aischylis of Selinus, two drachmai (4.I.46–7), Kleino of Phleious, three obols (4.I.49–50), Echenike of Phleious, one and a half obols (4.I.51–2), Kleonika of Phleious, one and a half obols (4.I.53–4), Philostratis of Lacedaemon, three obols (4.I.55–6). Family members: e.g. CID II, no. 1.II.26–30 (father and three sons). Geographical distribution: Davies (2001a), 220 (with further examples of female donors in n. 55). (62) E.g. CID II, no. 4.I.67–9 (70 drachmai from Theodorus), 4.I.76–7 (70 drachmai from Timeas), 4.III.13–14 (one obol from a Phocian called Anaxis). (63) On Theodorus, see e.g. Dem. 19.246, Arist. Pol. 7.1336b.27–31, Rhet. 3.1404 b.21–3, Plut. De glor. Ath. 348e, Paus. 1.37.3, IG II2 2325.262; LGPN II s.v. Θεόδωρος (31), PAA 506155. (64) Timeas’ eparche coincided with Apollonia’s gift of grain recorded in the same inscription (CID II, no. 4.II.19–22). Might he have been an Apollonian official who escorted its transport to Delphi? (65) Paus. 10.9.10; Bousquet in CID II, no. 1.II.26–30, p. 14, Rutherford (2004), 109. (66) Andoc. 1.96–8, at 96 (tr. MacDowell). This law is (wrongly) said to be a law of Solon in Andoc. 1.95. On the decree of Demophantus, see Ostwald (1955), Rhodes (1981), 220–2, cf. MacDowell (1962), 135. (67) IG II2 43.51–7 = RO 22.51–7. (68) E.g. IG II2 125.9–14 = RO 69.9–14, IG II/III3 399.10–15 (Athenian penalties for future attacks on Eretria or any other allied city of Athens or Athens’ allies, 343 BC?); Xen. Hell. 1.7.10 (punishments proposed for Athenian generals judged guilty after the battle of Arginusae in 406, allegedly conforming to the decree of Cannonus cited in Xen. Hell. 1.7.20), Agora XVI 73.16–22 = RO 79.16–22, IG II/ III3 320.16–22 (Athenian law threatening the Areopagus in the event of the overthrow of the democracy, 337/6). Note also Ar. Eq. 300–2: Paphlagon threatens to report the Sausage‐seller to the prytaneis for ‘being in possession of sacred tripe belonging to the gods on which no tithe has been paid’ (tr. Page 25 of 28

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance Sommerstein) (ἀδεκατεύτους τῶν θεῶν ἱερὰς ἔχοντα κοιλίας). The nature of the tithe in question is uncertain. Rogers (1910), 44: some confiscated estates (represented by the ‘sausages’) for which a tithe was payable to Athena; cf. Sommerstein (1981), 159: a tithe on war booty. LSJ s.v. ἀδεκάτευτος: ‘tithe‐free’; s.v. ἐπιδέκατος II.1: ‘tenth, tithe’. (69) IG I3 40.33–6 = ML 52.33–6. (70) Dem. 43.71. Papazarkadas (2011), 275–6, interprets the tenth of the fine as compensation to Athena for the use of her resources in producing Panathenaic oil, which required one and a half kotylai of oil per tree (Arist. Ath. Pol. 60.1–2), that is, roughly a tenth of the estimated crop of each tree, as noted by Foxhall (2007), 117–18. (71) E.g. Dem. 24.22 (1,000 drachmai to Athena from a prytanis who failed to convene the assembly, forty drachmai from a proedros who failed to deliberate), Dem. 43.54 (1,000 drachmai to Hera from an archon who failed to compel an heiress’s next of kin to marry her himself or to give her in marriage), IG II2 1237.22–6, 38–42 = RO 5.22–6, 38–42 (100 drachmai to Zeus Phratrios from a man introducing a rejected member to a phratry; 1,000 drachmai to Zeus Phratrios from a rejected member of a phratry after a failed appeal). (72) E.g. IG II2 43.35–46 = RO 22.35–46 (half went to the informant, half became common property of the Athenian allies), IG II2 1128.36–7 = RO 40.36–7 (half went to the informant, half to the people of the Iulietans). (73) E.g. IG I3 130.7 (aparche), 18 (eparche). (74) The word dekate was also used widely in non‐religious payments, taxations, and customs duties: e.g. IG I3 52.A.6–7 (= ML 58.A.6–7), Xen. Hell. 1.1.22, Arist. Ath. Pol. 16.4, Arist. [Oec.] 2.1345b.31–1346a.5, 1346b.31–3, 1351a.10–12, 1352b.26–32, IG XI.2 287.A.9–10, I.Cret. III vi 7.A.6–7 = Chaniotis (1996), no. 64.A.6–7, Diog. Laert. 1.53. Taxes paid to the Hellenistic kings frequently involved a dekate: e.g. Welles (1934), nos 41.5–10, 51.17–18, Jonnes and Ricl (1997), 27 (lines 46–7), Herrmann and Malay (2007), 49–58, no. 32.A.22–3 (= SEG LVII 1150.A) (the word used is dekateia). On public finance, see e.g. Boeckh (1828), Andreades (1933), Samons (2000), Bresson (2007–8), vol. 2, ch. 3, Van Wees (2013). (75) I.Cret. IV 184.a = Chaniotis (1996), no. 69.A; Willetts (1962), 261. (76) Andreades (1933), 80–2; aparche is only mentioned on p. 190 in the appendix. (77) See n. 24 on προτέλεια. The word πελανός originally signified an edible substance, a cake, offered to the gods usually as an additional offering to a sacrifice. From the late fifth century or possibly earlier the word also denoted a Page 26 of 28

A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance money offering, used particularly for payment for oracular consultations and also other cult services. The word is used in this sense in e.g. RO 37.29–30 (= LSS 19.29–30), CID I no. 8 (= LSS 39). On πελανός, see Sokolowski (1954), 157, Amandry (1950), 86–103, Kaminski (1991), 71–2, Parker and Obbink (2000), 438 n. 89. (78) Herod. 4.90–1, with commentary by Cunningham (1971), 145: the collection‐ box has an effigy of the holy serpent on top; she is not offering a cake to the serpent. (79) LSAM 24.A.13–20, 73.29–32. (80) LSS 85. Cf. the one‐sixtieth of allied tribute offered to Athena as an aparche in the Athenian empire (see Chapter 7). (81) I owe this idea to the acute observation of Parker (1996), 125, Parker and Obbink (2000), 429. (82) On Aphrodite’s association with the sea, see Pirenne‐Delforge (1994), Parker (2002), 146–52, Pirenne‐Delforge (2007), esp. 316–18, Demetriou (2010). (83) I.Priene 362.9 = LSAM 39.8. (84) IG II2 1215. (85) Eitrem (1937), Herrmann (1971), 140–2. (86) See n. 77 above. (87) I am grateful to Beate Dignas for this observation. (88) With the exception of a few special cases, e.g. Eleusinian first‐fruits (ML 73), Kian aparchai to Miletus (Milet I.3, no. 141). (89) Petropoulou (1981), nos 1–2 (= SEG XXXI 415–16), Petrakos (1997), nos 276–7. (90) Parker and Obbink (2000), no. 1 (= SEG L 766), IG XII.4 319 (lines 1–2, 13– 16, 29–32), with commentary on pp. 432–2, 444. For penalties for failure to pay sacrificial tariffs (not termed a/eparchai), see also Iscr. Cos, ED 62 (= LSCG 161, IG XII.4 325), Iscr. Cos, ED 178.A.a.24–6 = IG XII.4 302.24–6. (91) LSS 72. See n. 11 on the meaning of enthumistos. (92) Xen. An. 5.3.13; similarly in LSCG 86. (93) E.g. SEG XLI 182.

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A/eparchai and Dekatai in Cult Finance (94) IG I3 136 (c. 413/2 BC?). Papazarkadas (2011), 26–7, postulates an association between the eparche in IG I3 136 and the ‘annual produce’ (ἐγκύκλιος καρπός) for Bendis and another goddess recorded in IG I3 383.142–6 (inventory of the Other Gods of 429/8 BC). On the introduction of the Thracian cult of Bendis into Athens, see Garland (1991), 111–14, Parker (1996), 170–5, Archibald (1999). (95) Piraeus: IG I3 130, 136, Agora XVI 160. (96) Cf. Pafford (2006), 93–4, 200, who argues that the imposition of coin fees deposited in a thesauros was driven not so much by a sanctuary’s real economic needs as by a desire to ritualize the otherwise mundane and impersonal nature of the coin. Cf. also Goodenough (2011), esp. 124–5, who argues that the sanctuary’s primary concern was not to maximize profit for its own financial benefit, but to ensure enough profit for the smooth running of the cult.

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Conclusion

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

Conclusion Theodora Suk Fong Jim

DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.003.0010

Abstract and Keywords The offering of aparchai and dekatai was too multifaceted for it to be possible to reduce it any single explanation. A spectrum of possible motivations can be identified, but an underlying idea cannot escape us, namely that the Greeks felt a sense of dependence on the gods. Whether it was to give thanks and honour, to reinforce ties with the gods, to pray for further benefits, or to avoid divine wrath, the act of sharing something with the gods recognized implicitly their involvement in human affairs. Amid the uncertainties and insecurities of life, first offerings probably satisfied individuals’ psychological need for a safe anchor in life as much as, and perhaps even more than, their material need for a pleasing return. The study of Greek religion should go beyond the traditional notions of do ut des and da ut dem to consider the idea of do quia dedisti and human dependence on the divine. Keywords:   motivations, dependence, thanks, honour, benefits, gods, uncertainties, insecurities, psychological

It is tempting and natural to think, as the usual English translation ‘first‐fruits’ suggests, that the earliest and most basic form of aparchai consisted of the land’s produce, and that the agricultural practice came to be extended to other spheres of life over time.1 Nevertheless, the earliest attested aparchai and dekatai show no discernible relationship to farming, whereas the evidence for agricultural first‐fruits (with inevitably few or no traces in the material record) comes mostly from late, post‐Classical, sources. The supposed development from aparchai of crops to other kinds of aparchai therefore remains plausible but undemonstrable. What our evidence testifies to is the pervasiveness and Page 1 of 7

Conclusion traditional character of this religious custom. Whether it was a bountiful harvest, a large catch of fish, a simple meal in private households, regular income from work, captured spoils from battles, or any other profits, worshippers and worshipping communities customarily presented a portion of what they enjoyed to the gods. Although we cannot prove that each harvest, each meal, or each military victory was necessarily accompanied by a first offering, the overriding impression that the available evidence leaves is that it must have been fairly common. Over time, there is an observable shift in significance from aparchai as ‘first part offerings’ to ‘offerings’ in general, with a much-diminished sense of a preliminary portion, the two essential characteristics that marked a gift as a first offering. The spread and subsequent weakening of the idea of ‘first part offerings’ is seen in the frequent use of aparchai to mean little more than ‘cult payments’ and ‘offerings’ in cult finance, and ‘monetary contributions’ for the new Panhellenic (p.275) festivals in the Hellenistic period. Traditionally addressed to the gods, in some political contexts the gods’ customary share was extended to cities or kings. Already in the fifth century Athens required aparchai from her subject‐colonies, as did Miletus in the third century. Both involved the formalization and institutionalization of previously voluntary gifts to the gods into religio‐political obligations of fixed sums or portions. The Hellenistic period also saw the offering of aparchai to monarchs as if they were gods. Prior to the Hellenistic period, no aparche had been offered to a living human; but in a new political situation, portions traditionally reserved for the gods came to be conferred on Hellenistic monarchs on account of their benefactions. Whether presented to a human or a god, voluntary or otherwise, first offerings acknowledge a relationship of dependence between the giver and the recipient. Amid these new developments, a fundamental feature remains nevertheless constant: not even in the spheres of cult finance and ruler worship did an aparche lose its sacred character, and it might have been its sacred quality that gave it particular potential for extension to these areas. The traditional aparchai and dekatai, as we have seen, were usually presented more or less voluntarily to the gods.2 They were not obligatory in the sense that they were not regulated or requested by religious authorities or the gods themselves; everyone who wanted to do so could offer a variable proportion as they saw fit. It may be argued that social convention was an important force, but the present study has shown that even within the framework of a traditional practice, there was plenty of room for individuals to make choices and decisions. The offering of aparchai and dekatai was conventional in that individuals did not invent this form of religious action: it was a pre‐existing custom, a template available in Greek culture. However, it was far from obligatory for the Greeks to perform this act: the decision to offer a part fell first and foremost to the individual worshipper; each situation was defined and interpreted by the individual regarding whether to make a first offering and, if so, in what form and Page 2 of 7

Conclusion of what value, to which deity, what to inscribe, and where to set it up. The offering of aparchai and dekatai was (p.276) therefore a self‐regulated obligation in which the role of the individual was paramount: far from merely conforming to established norms and customs, the Greeks could actively adapt tradition to their own needs and circumstances. The distinction between ‘private’ and ‘public’ first offerings made in this study is not meant to be rigid. Rather it is meant to draw attention to the vitality and variety of religious life within the polis, the oft‐neglected role of ordinary individuals, and the possible interplay between the two sides of the practice. Depending on the context, worshippers could perform this act independently by themselves or collectively by virtue of their membership in a group, so that they might be simultaneously engaged in offering aparchai and dekatai at various levels of society: on their own, in their household, in the agricultural community, as part of the polis, and together with other poleis. Private individuals and communities at large engaged in similar practices with regard to making first offerings, though on very different scales. Some communal first offerings appear to have been more strongly prescribed by custom: religious tradition or social convention made it more or less customary to give the gods a share at harvest times and in the division of spoils. Yet public first offerings were no less free— that is, they were not normally compelled by law or regulation either. Despite possible differences in the expenses involved, the scale of offering, and the degree of social prescription, the circumstances that prompted public and private first offerings were extremely similar and consistent with each other: both relate to some success or benefits granted by the gods. We do not know whether public practices influenced those at the private level or vice versa, but that each side was affected by a certain degree of mutual interaction seems certain. To revert to the original question, why did the Greeks bring first offerings to the gods? As we discussed in Chapter 2, a range of motivations was possible. At one end of the spectrum, so to speak, was a sense of honour for, and obligation and gratitude to, the gods, who made human provisions and other benefits available. Poised about midway was a ‘neutral’ state of conformity with tradition, the safest course in life being perhaps to follow without deviation a longstanding custom practised by most people and one’s ancestors. At the other end of the spectrum were fears and anxieties about the future: one must not offend the gods, who were considered the source of all things, both good and evil. Individuals and cities might have had several concurrent reasons for making first offerings, or they might have had no specific (p.277) motivation at all. The array of motivations is too closely intertwined to be separable, and no single explanation can sufficiently account for the phenomenon. Nor can we draw a clear‐cut distinction between ‘sacred’ and ‘secular’ motives, since no religious act is purely disinterested or purely manipulative, as anthropologists remind us.3 Nevertheless, what we can identify is the spectrum of different motivations, Page 3 of 7

Conclusion ranging from more ‘religious’ to more ‘secular’, that might be present in the same religious act, and the general trends or common features among them. Amid the diversity of possible reasons for offering aparchai and dekatai to the gods, a central feature cannot escape us: first offerings were retrospective in nature, made typically after some benefits were received. Although some gifts might have been made when a need to beseech the gods arose, aparchai and dekatai had a strong tendency to be presented in view of some good fortune or success enjoyed recently or in the past. Thus we would expect a hard‐pressed farmer praying for the fertility of his fields to have made a sacrifice (or other offerings), but not a first offering. It was usually after a good harvest that first‐ fruits would be presented to the gods. First offerings bear on the important issue in Greek religion of the nature of gift‐ giving between men and gods. Modern scholarship has frequently interpreted the charis relations between worshippers and the gods along the lines of do ut des and da ut dem.4 These widely accepted formulae, while certainly relevant, cannot adequately encapsulate the human–divine relations expressed by first offerings. Although many first offerings were probably accompanied by the hope of further benefits, they did not normally initiate the cycle of charis between men and gods. For an aparche or a dekate to be presented, some prior success or benefit had usually been obtained, and the worshipper might then use the opportunity of the first offering to ask for further favours. By accentuating the conditional, contractual, and commercial aspects of the gifts, the conventional formulae have neglected such elements as the goodwill, spontaneity, and uncertainty that might be present in these interactions. (p.278) More appropriately, first offerings embody the idea of restoring to the gods part of what they gave men in the first place, or do quia dedisti. Worshippers bringing aparchai and dekatai doubtless felt beholden to the gods in one way or another for some divine assistance, protection, or benefits enjoyed. It was because of their role in providing (and withdrawing) these favours that the gods had a claim to a share of the goods available to mankind. The possibility that many first offerings were made without prior agreements lends support to the idea that individuals and communities probably felt indebted to the gods, an indebtedness arising from the fact that the benefits came from the gods, whether or not a vow had been made. First offerings returned in part and in symbol what was owed to the gods, and might be thought of as a means of repaying a man’s debt to them, albeit only partially. Worshippers might respond to a divine favour with a token offering, not necessarily to pay off their debt, but to acknowledge it and to hope for further favours, thereby perpetuating a continuous relation with the divine powers. The emphasis, common in modern scholarship, on material returns as the central reason for gifts to the gods needs further consideration and qualification. First offerings call into question Socrates’ suggestion that gift‐giving between Page 4 of 7

Conclusion men and gods was an ἐμπορικὴ τέχνη.5 As aparchai and dekatai returned to the gods only a portion of the benefits received, they were partial payments that could not fully repay, and were not meant fully to repay, the gods for their provisions. The unequal value of the gifts circulated between the two parties is made explicit in a passage in Aristotle: οὕτω δὴ καὶ τοῖς ἀνίσοις ὁμιλητέον, καὶ τῷ εἰς χρήματα ὠφελουμένῳ ἢ εἰς ἀρετὴν τιμὴν ἀνταποδοτέον, ἀποδιδόντα τὰ ἐνδεχόμενα. τὸ δυνατὸν γὰρ ἡ φιλία ἐπιζητεῖ, οὐ τὸ κατ᾽ ἀξίαν: οὐδὲ γὰρ ἔστιν ἐν πᾶσι, καθάπερ ἐν ταῖς πρὸς τοὺς θεοὺς τιμαῖς καὶ τοὺς γονεῖς: οὐδεὶς γὰρ τὴν ἀξίαν ποτ᾽ ἂν ἀποδοίη, εἰς δύναμιν δὲ ὁ θεραπεύων ἐπιεικὴς εἶναι δοκεῖ.6 This then is also the way in which we should associate with unequals; one who receives a benefit in terms of money or virtue must pay back in return honour, paying back what is possible. Friendship seeks what is possible, not what is based on value. It is not possible (to return equal value) in all matters, as, for example, in the honours towards the gods and parents. For no one might ever pay back their value (the equivalent (p.279) of what he gets), but the person serving to the limit of his means seems to be a decent man. Unable to pay back the gods sufficiently for the goods received, worshippers were perpetually indebted to their divine benefactors. The charis relations between men and gods were therefore reciprocal but asymmetrical: not only did they involve favours of different scale and value, but also elements of mutual goodwill, pleasure, and delight, making them different from commercial transactions. While the implicit or explicit hope of rewards is doubtless present, first offerings cannot be reduced to an investment for further returns or a business deal between mortals and immortals. They were more fundamentally recognitions of the gods’ influence in this world, and their ability to sway human fortune. The study of Greek piety should go beyond the traditional notions of do ut des and da ut dem to embrace the possibility that a psychological feeling of dependence on the gods might also have been involved. Whether they were presented to the gods out of feelings of gratitude and indebtedness, a desire for ostentatious display and competition, conformity with tradition, a fear of offending some divine power, or an inextricable mixture of all these, aparchai and dekatai were almost invariably given in retrospect and in view of some benefits received. Their strong retrospective character renders them akin to thank‐offerings. From the fourth century onwards we find the Greek terms charisteria, eucharisteria, and eucharistein; but the idea denoted by these words certainly existed much earlier, and the offering of aparchai and dekatai can be considered an expression of it. This is not to say that thanksgiving and gratitude constituted the primary motivating factor for first offerings. Surely there may be more to this act than pure appreciation of the Page 5 of 7

Conclusion gods’ kindness. There might have been, inter alia, an underlying anxiety about the future, the hope of perpetuating the present good fortune, and a desire to commemorate one’s deeds and achievements. Gift‐giving is such a multifaceted phenomenon that it would be simplistic to assume that first offerings were free from self‐interest; the ancient Greeks did not seem to find the coexistence of seemingly contradictory motivations problematic or inconsistent. Part of the reason why the phenomenon is so intriguing lies in its multifaceted nature, its flexibility and capacity to accommodate different needs, and the divergent opinions it allows historians to hold. Without suggesting that gratitude was the (p.280) overriding motivation, what I hope to have shown is that, despite claims to the contrary, the Greeks were capable of expressing thanks to the gods, and that gratitude was a possible and relevant factor that deserves consideration, though the extent to which it is present in a first offering may have varied from one individual to another and from context to context. Only by recognizing that different cultures can have varying perceptions of what constitutes adequate and appropriate expressions of ‘gratitude’ can we recognize that first offerings provided for the Greeks a possible manifestation of such. If the Eleusinian Mysteries and Orphic rites were aimed at securing a better lot in the afterlife, first offerings may be considered as a means of securing one’s well‐being in this life by always returning something to the gods. Aparchai and dekatai, along with prayers, animal sacrifice, and oracular consultations, were part and parcel of the way the Greeks communicated with the gods and cultivated their goodwill. Amid the perpetual uncertainties and insecurities of life, first offerings probably satisfied individuals’ psychological need for a safe anchor in life as much as, and perhaps even more than, their material need for a pleasing return. Some anxiety, hope, and indebtedness was probably expressed by each of the aparchai and dekatai presented to the gods. Whether great or small, ‘piously’ motivated or otherwise, first offerings should be understood as tangible proof of the power the gods were believed to have and recognition of human dependence on them. Notes:

(1) Such is the view of Beer (1914), passim. (2) With some exceptions seen in Chapters 7 and 8, which are anomalies vis‐à‐vis the usual practice, e.g. IG I3 78 (Eleusis first‐fruits to Athens), Milet I.3, no. 141 (Kian phialai to Miletus), and possibly Thuc. 6.20.4 (aparche to Syracuse). (3) Bell (1997), 109. (4) E.g. Harrison (1903), Festugière (1976), passim, Burkert (1979), 54, Van Straten (1981), 73, Parker (1998), esp. 107–8, 111–14, Bremer (1998), 130–1, Satlow (2005), passim, Kearns (2010), 89–90. The idea is certainly present although some scholars do not use the formulae explicitly. Page 6 of 7

Conclusion (5) Pl. Euthphr. 14e. (6) Arist. Eth. Nic. 1163b.12–18 (tr. adapted from Mikalson (2010), 62).

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Appendix Human First Offerings in Colonization

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

(p.281) Appendix Human First Offerings in Colonization If we move from the realm of the historical to the legendary, there is a further kind of first offerings, namely that of human beings. Foundation traditions of some Greek colonies tell how people were dedicated to Delphic Apollo, according to whose oracular advice they set out on colonizing expeditions.1 Though described variously as aparchai, dekatai, and akrothinia, these human first offerings are markedly different in nature from the ones seen in the rest of this study, for which an individual usually offered part of his goods or property to the gods but never himself or someone else.2 To let the confusing and often conflicting accounts speak for themselves, we shall examine the human offerings of the cities thus founded one by one.

Rhegium Rhegium is the earliest Greek colony supposedly founded with a human tithe.3 Strabo tells us that the colony was established by the Chalcidians who were ‘tithed to Apollo’ (δεκατευθέντες τῷ Ἀπόλλωνι) in accordance with an oracle in time of dearth (δι′ ἀπορίαν), but later on they left Delphi, taking with them other Chalcidians from home.4 Diodorus Siculus similarly says that Chalcidians ‘dedicated from the tithe’ (ἐκ τῆς δεκάτης ἀνατεθέντες) founded a city on oracular advice. These traditions seem to have been accepted in the Classical period already: the western Greek historian Timaeus (reported in Strabo) (p. 282) relates how, when Eunomus and Ariston of Rhegium quarrelled about the casting of lots while contesting in the Pythian games, Ariston urged the Delphians to support him on the grounds that his ancestors were hieroi of the god (ἱεροὶ τοῦ θεοῦ) and that the colony had been sent forth from Delphi.

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Appendix Human First Offerings in Colonization Asine Pausanias tells us that the Dryopes were conquered by Heracles and brought to Delphi (number unspecified) as an anathema (οἱ Δρύοπες ὑπὸ Ἡρακλέους ἐκρατήθησαν καὶ τῷ Ἀπόλλωνι ἀνάθημα ἤχθησαν ἐς Δελφούς). On the order of an oracle given to Heracles, they set out from Delphi to Asine and then Hermione.5 However, the human anathema is not mentioned by Diodorus Siculus, according to whom Heracles slew the king of the Dryopes and drove them out of the land. Some of them subsequently founded Carystus in Euboea, while others sailed to Cyprus; still others founded Asine, Hermione, and Eion in the Peloponnese with the help of Eurystheus.

Colophon Diodorus Siculus says that after Thebes was taken, Teiresias’ daughter was sent to Delphi as an akrothinion in fulfilment of a certain vow (κατά τινα εὐχὴν ἀκροθίνιον); there she soon developed oracular skills. Instead of an akrothinion, Apollodorus describes her as ‘the fairest of the spoils’ (τὸ κάλλιστον τῶν λαφύρων) dedicated to Apollo along with a portion of booty (τῆς δὲ λείας μέρος).6 Neither Diodorus nor Apollodorus mentions her role in city foundation. But Pausanias tells us that Apollo sent her and others (presumably Theban captives) from Delphi to found a colony, whereupon they crossed to Asia and came to Colophon.7

The Macedonian Bottiaeans In the course of saying that the seven Athenian youths and seven maidens sent to Crete as a tribute to Minos8 were kept alive instead of killed, Plutarch quotes Aristotle as saying, in the latter’s Constitution of Bottiaea, that the Cretans once dispatched an aparche of their people (ἀνθρώπων ἀπαρχή) to (p.283) Delphi in fulfilment of an ancient vow, and among them were descendants of those Athenians sent to Crete. Unable to support themselves in Delphi, they first crossed over to Italy and dwelt round Iapygia, and from there they went to Thrace and were called Bottiaeans.9

Magnesia on the Maeander The people of Magnesia on the Maeander believed that they had originated as a dekate sent to Delphic Apollo after the Trojan War. The mythologist Conon located the original homeland of the Magnesians in Thessaly near the river Peneus and Mount Pelion, saying that upon their return from Troy, a dekate of the Magnesians (δεκάτη Μαγνήτων) settled in Delphi in accordance with a vow. After some time they sailed from Delphi to Crete, but when pressed (βιασθέντες), they crossed over to Asia, where they called their new city Magnesia. However, Parthenius says that Leucippus founded a colony called Cretinaeum, and that, according to oracular advice, he was chosen as the leader by those who were tithed (οἱ δεκατευθέντες) by Admetus from Pherae (under circumstances unspecified). In the words of Aristotle (or Theophrastus) quoted by Athenaeus, these Magnesians were ἱεροὶ τοῦ θεοῦ, Δελφῶν ἄποικοι. This is Page 2 of 9

Appendix Human First Offerings in Colonization the second piece of literary evidence that presumably refers to humans tithed to Apollo as ἱεροὶ τοῦ θεοῦ. The surviving part of a third‐century inscription set up in the Magnesian agora mentions the city’s foundation and its oikist Leucippus, but not the human tithe.10

Tanagra Perhaps following the same source, the various accounts of Tanagra’s foundation are more or less consistent in saying that the Gephyraioi were dedicated by the Athenians to Delphi as a dekate under circumstances unrecorded. In accordance with an oracle they set out to found Tanagra.11

(p.284) Corcyra and Methone An obscure passage in Plutarch mentions Eretria and Magnesia as having presented Delphic Apollo with aparchai of their people: ἐγὼ δὲ…ἐπαινῶ…ἔτι δὲ μᾶλλον Ἐρετριεῖς καὶ Μάγνητας ἀνθρώπων ἀπαρχαῖς δωρησαμένους τὸν θεὸν ὡς καρπῶν δοτῆρα καὶ πατρῷον καὶ γενέσιον καὶ φιλάνθρωπον.12 I commend…and still more the inhabitants of Eretria and Magnesia who presented the god with the first‐fruits of their people, in the belief that he is the giver of crops, the god of their fathers, the author of their being, and the friend of man. The ἀνθρώπων ἀπαρχαί from Magnesia were presumably the Magnesians tithed to Apollo discussed earlier. As Plutarch is equating the Eretrians’ offering with that of the Magnesians, it is probable that an aparche or dekate of Eretrians is involved here. Another passage of Plutarch is often adduced in this connection: the Eretrian colonists, when expelled from Corcyra, tried to return to their mother‐city but were rejected by their fellow citizens; consequently they founded another colony, Methone. Because they were repelled by missiles from slings at Eretria, Plutarch explains, the Eretrian colonists were also known as ἀποσφενδόνητοι (‘men driven away by slings’).13 Some scholars see here traces of a consecration to Apollo similar to an aparche or dekate of human beings.14 However, as the motifs and situations implied in the two passages are markedly different, it is unclear whether they are referring to the same Eretrian colonists (see below).

Cyrene A similar motif is seen in the foundation of Cyrene. A seven‐year drought at Thera motivated consultation at Delphi and the subsequent colonization of Cyrene. But when the colonists tried to return to their mother‐city, the Theraeans at home refused to let them land, throwing stones at their ships, and told them to sail back to Libya.15 A famous fourth‐century inscription, containing what is allegedly the city’s original foundation decree, allowed colonists to return to Thera should they be hard‐pressed for five years, but (p.285) any Page 3 of 9

Appendix Human First Offerings in Colonization refusal to join the expedition would incur death and other penalties.16 Some historians have inferred a human tithe in connection with Cyrene’s foundation,17 but our sources make no mention of such. Unlike the first offerings seen in the preceding chapters, which might be dedicated to a variety of divinities, human aparchai or dekatai in foundation traditions were exclusively offered to Apollo at Delphi. This may be related to several aspects of the god’s divine power. Apollo was δεκατηφόρος or ‘tithe‐ receiving’.18 As ἀρχηγέτης he was a guide in colonizing expeditions, and as φοῖβος he was a god of purification, who maintained civic and cosmic order by providing the necessary cleansing when a city was threatened by pollution or stasis.19 Though addressed to the same divine recipient, the human first offerings were made under different circumstances. (1) The Dryopes at Asine and the daughter of Teiresias at Colophon were prisoners of war offered to the god as a choice portion of the booty, in more or less the same manner as the military first offerings seen in Chapter 6. Yet the typical practice in historical times was to dedicate objects—such as arms, armour, and monuments commissioned using the proceeds from the sale of the spoils and captives—not human beings.20 (2) Rather different are the Chalcidian colonists in Rhegium and the Theraeans in Cyrene, who were offered to the god in connection with natural disasters rather than good tidings. (3) In the remaining cases the precise circumstances of dedication cannot be recovered, though a vow (content unspecified) was involved in the cases of the Bottiaeans and the Magnesians. Might the Chalcidian and the Theraean settlers have been dedicated with a view to appeasing Apollo, who was thought to be angry about some ritual lapse, with an expiatory gift in the most extraordinary form?21 Or was a (p.286) portion of the population expelled to alleviate local problems of food and water supply (or similar), so that the city could survive or recover from the crises? In an article in 1999, Mari stresses the stories about colonists not being allowed to return, whether the ancient sources speak of aparchai and dekatai or not. She sees aparchai and dekatai as a ritual mechanism by which the separation was made absolute: aparchai and dekatai will have been decided upon when it was necessary to get rid of inhabitants without the possibility of return because of food shortages, stasis, or similar. The practice thus resembles, in her view, the dispatch of scapegoats. Similarly, Malkin sees dekatai as implying the denial of the right of return to colonists.22 It is hard to reconcile these human first offerings with the traditional aparchai and dekatai. As far as the colonists in Rhegium and Cyrene are concerned, the human first offerings appear to have been a precondition or preliminary offering for the desired outcome, namely to remedy a natural catastrophe, in sharp contrast to the usual practice of giving the gods a share after some divine favour Page 4 of 9

Appendix Human First Offerings in Colonization was granted. Normally, instead of relieving themselves of some unwanted elements, worshippers and worshipping communities would share with the gods their goods or possessions. It is therefore difficult to see in these colonists the character of the traditional aparchai and dekatai. Existing discussions of colonization of the aparche and dekate type have paid little attention to the Plutarch passage cited earlier, where the Eretrians and Magnesians are commended by Apollo for having offered ἀνθρώπων ἀπαρχαί to the god in his role as the giver of all things.23 The underlying idea is much more in line with what we have seen regarding traditional first offerings: to honour the gods as the givers of all good things with a portion of the benefits enjoyed. This stands in sharp contrast to the Chalcidian and Theraean colonists in Rhegium and Cyrene respectively, who appear to have been expelled as some undesirable elements to remedy local problems (on Mari’s view), and also to the reluctant settlers from Eretria (in Plutarch’s Quaestiones Gaecae 293b, often associated with De Pythiae oraculis 401f–402a), who tried to return to their mother‐city only to be repelled by missiles from slings. In other words, the Eretrians in the two episodes Plutarch records are so markedly different that it raises the question of whether these passages are indeed referring to the same Eretrian colonists, as is often assumed. What is noteworthy is the strangeness of the character of these human first offerings. If there was indeed an archaic practice of offering human beings alive to Delphi, the circumstances and motivations of (p.287) dedication (in the cases of the Chalcidians and Theraeans) appear to be muddled and counter‐intuitive given what we know of the usual aparchai and dekatai. Their ‘strangeness’ is mediated somewhat by the fact that they were imaginary rather than real,24 offered in the remote past and not contemporary societies, and served surely as an exceptional measure instead of a regular ritual practice. The earliest available piece of evidence that refers to people sent alive to Delphic Apollo as first offerings is in Euripides: the captive Phoenician women describe themselves as ἀκροθίνια Λοξίαι, presented as a most beautiful offering to Loxias.25 This is in accordance with the military custom of presenting a share of booty to the gods, but its form—human beings dedicated alive—is unusual and unattested historically. Might Euripides have been a source of influence on later traditions? Euripides is, however, certainly not referring to a contemporary practice but projecting it onto the mythical past, nor is there any question of these barbarians becoming colonists. Although foundation traditions were already circulating in abundance in the Classical period, all references to human colonists as aparchai, dekatai, and akrothinia come from later sources, such as Diodorus Siculus, Strabo, Parthenius, Conon, Pausanias, and Plutarch.26 Why does Herodotus not mention a human tithe when relating the foundation of Tanagra and Cyrene, especially when the words aparche and dekate are already used in his Histories in relation to religious offerings?27 It is unclear if Herodotus knows of this but does not mention it, or whether colonization was not Page 5 of 9

Appendix Human First Offerings in Colonization conceptualized in this way in his time. The available sources strongly suggest that it did not become a common motif in Greek literature until much later. Might there have been a confusion or conflation of motifs between the Greek offering of aparchai and dekatai and the Roman practice of ver sacrum (‘sacred spring’)? Might ancient authors such as Diodorus Siculus and Parthenius, who had resided in Italy, have (mis‐)applied the motif of the Roman ritual to Greek colonization stories? Greek colonization of the aparche or dekate type is often compared to the Roman ritual of ver sacrum, a mechanism by which a vow was made in times of distress, promising the gods all the (p.288) produce of the following spring or the whole year when they reached maturity. Consequently animals would be sacrificed and human beings would be sent away when they grew up. Guided by the god or a sacred animal, they would set out on colonizing expeditions.28 However, Italy’s ver sacrum was linked primarily with Mars (not Apollo), and involved the total (not partial) dedication of the produce. Different again was the nature of the vow: dangerous or critical situations might evoke vows of the ver sacrum type, but not the usual apachai and dekatai (as discussed in Chapter 5).29 It is possible that some ancient authors might have imported the Roman motif into Greek colonization traditions. The fact that Rhegium was a Greek colony in Italy makes it all the more likely. Colonization involving aparchai or dekatai has further been compared to rituals of expulsion and purification.30 It was a ritual practice in the Greek world to expel chosen members of the community, usually social outcasts, on a specific day of the year as a means of public purification for the city. In Athens, this took place on the first day (sixth of Thargelion) of the Thargelia, during which two chosen members were specially attired and garlanded and chased out of the city.31 Symbolically laden with the guilt and pollution of all members of the community, the scapegoats (pharmakoi) were expelled carrying impurity with them, so that the rest of the city would be purified. Apparently this could be a regular or annual ritual, or a communal reaction to specific catastrophes such as drought and plague. Despite apparent resemblances with colonization motivated by natural disasters (as in Rhegium and Cyrene, but not all the above cases), rituals of expulsion are not compatible with ordinary first offerings, which were by nature the gods’ preliminary share from benefits received. If both the traditional aparchai/dekatai and colonists called aparchai/dekatai and sent out because of disasters involved sacrificing a share, these were very different kinds of division: the former offered a fine portion in thanks and honour of the gods, whereas the latter discarded the negative elements to appease them. However intriguing the human first offerings may be in the Greeks’ imagination, they remain markedly different from, and contradictory to, the ordinary practice examined in the rest of this book, and cannot be taken as a feature of practised religion.

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Appendix Human First Offerings in Colonization Notes:

(1) On the role and authenticity of foundation oracles given by Apollo at Delphi, see Parke and Wormell (1956), esp. vol. 1, 49–81, Fontenrose (1978), esp. 137– 44, Malkin (1987), ch. 1, Morgan (1990), ch. 5. Hall (2008) provides a theoretical analysis of the major scholarly approaches to foundation stories. (2) That is, except the symbolic offering of a lock of hair in rites of maturation and mourning (see Chapter 1). (3) Rhegium’s foundation has been dated by historians to the eighth century BC based on the participation of the Messenians exiled in the First Messenian War (on which see Heraclides Lembus and Strabo in the following note). (4) Strabo 6.1.6, 257. On the foundation of Rhegium, see also Thuc. 6.44.3, Timaeus ap. Strabo 6.1.9, 260, Heraclid. Lemb. Excerpta Politiarum 25 = Arist. fr. 611.55 Rose, Diod. Sic. fr. 8.23.2, 14.40.1, Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 19.2, Paus. 4.23.5–10; Dunbabin (1948), 10–13, Parke and Wormell (1956), vol. 1, 54, vol. 2, no. 371, Bérard (1957), 99–106, Vallet (1958), 66–80, Graham (1964a), 17–19, Ducat (1974), Malkin (1987), 31–41. (5) Paus. 4.34.9–10. See also Hdt. 8.43, Diod. Sic. 4.37.1, Strabo 8.6.13, 373; Parke and Wormell (1956), vol. 1, 51, vol. 2, no. 448. (6) Diod. Sic. 4.66.5–6; Schol. A. R. I.308 also describes her as an akrothinion; Apollod. Bibl. 3.7.3–4. (7) Paus. 7.3.1–4; cf. Paus. 9.33.1–2, where no human captives other than Teiresias and his daughter are mentioned. On Colophon’s foundation, see also Sakellariou (1958), 147–72. (8) On which see Plut. Thes. 15. (9) Arist. fr. 485 Rose = Plut. Thes. 16.2: ποτε Κρῆτας εὐχὴν παλαιὰν ἀποδιδόντας ἀνθρώπων ἀπαρχὴν εἰς Δελφοὺς ἀποστέλλειν, τοῖς δὲ πεμπομένοις ἀναμειχθέντας ἐκγόνους ἐκείνων συνεξελθεῖν; a similar tradition is told in Plut. Quaest. Graec. 298f–299a. It is unclear if the phrase ἀνθρώπων ἀπαρχή was that of Aristotle or Plutarch. That the same phrase appears in both Plutarch passages makes it likely that it was Plutarch’s own use of words. (10) Parth. Amat. narr. V.5–6, Conon, Narr. 29 = FGrH 26 F 1 (29), Ath. 4.173e–f; I.Magnesia no. 17; Parke and Wormell (1956), vol. 1, 52–4, vol. 2, nos 378–82, Sakellariou (1958), 106–16, 342–3, Fontenrose (1978), 407–9, L 163–7, Clay (1993), Lightfoot (1999), 402. (11) Hdt. 5.57 (without reference to the human tithe), Paus. Att. δ 23 (135) Erbse, Eust. ad Il. 3.222 p. 642 van der Valk, Suda δ 1395 s.v. Δόρυ κηρύκειον;

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Appendix Human First Offerings in Colonization Parke and Wormell (1956), vol. 1, 52, vol. 2, no. 312, Fontenrose (1978), 384, L78. (12) Plut. De Pyth. or. 401f–402a (tr. Babbitt). (13) Plut. Quaest. Graec. 293b. (14) Malkin (1987), 38, Mari (1999), 268–9. (15) Hdt. 4.150–8, at 156. The relatively rich sources on Cyrene have been much discussed: ML 5, Pind. Pyth. 4.4–11, 4.59–63, 5.85–95; Parke and Wormell (1956), vol. 1, 73–7, vol. 2, nos 37–42, 416, Fontenrose (1978), 120–3, Q 45–51, Malkin (1987), 60–9, 204–16, Calame (1988b), 105–25, Mari (1999), 269, Calame (2003 [1996]), Austin (2008). (16) ML 5.33–8. The method of selecting colonists (lines 27–30) is obscured by the difficulties in reading the Greek text. Line 35 ἀλλὰ ἀνάγκαι ἀχθῶντι ἔτη ἐπὶ πέντε is interpreted by Graham (1964a), 53 with n. 1, 224–6, to mean the colonists’ right to return if they suffered hardship within five years. But the accusative more probably indicates duration—that is, after a period of five years. (17) E.g. Rohrbach (1960), 33; cf. Malkin (1987), 41, 65, who thinks that we need not see in Cyrene’s foundation a human tithe. (18) E.g. Callim. Hymn 4. 278, Paus. 1.42.5; RE s.v. Apollo, 47. (19) Versnel (1993), 292: ‘the word Phoibos is no longer interpreted as “radiant” but rather as “cathartic” or “awful” ’ (with further bibliography), Dougherty (1998), 179, 194 n. 3. (20) See Chapter 6, n. 62. (21) As envisaged by Malkin (1987), 40. Vallet (1958), 70–1, followed by Ducat (1974), 100, points out that the dearth at Rhegium may or may not have been an ‘historical event’. Burkert (1987b), 44–6, (1996), 34–55, 152–5, suggests that a part offering may have been made in situations of danger to appease an angry god. However, as discussed in Chapters 2 and 5, this is not a typical feature of the traditional first offerings. (22) Malkin (1987), 38, Mari (1999), passim. The right of colonists to return to their mother‐city (or the lack thereof) is discussed in Graham (1964a), 110 ff., without reference to any aparche/dekate mechanism. (23) Plut. De Pyth. or. 401f–402a. (24) Cf. Mari (1999), who argues that more foundation stories might have been set or partially set in the historical period than historians have traditionally allowed, and that even if they are set in the mythical past, it does not prove that Page 8 of 9

Appendix Human First Offerings in Colonization the motif of first offerings in colonization is necessarily mythical: it could be a case of a historical element infecting myth, rather than vice versa. (25) Eur. Phoen. 203, see also 282, with commentary in Mastronarde (1994), 215. (26) The phrase ἀνθρώπων ἀπαρχή is probably Plutarch’s rather than Aristotle’s use of words (see n. 9 above). The description ἱεροὶ τοῦ θεοῦ is used by Timaeus ap. Strabo 6.1.9, 260, and Aristotle or Theophrastus ap. Ath. 4.173e–f. (27) Foundation of Cyrene and Tanagra: Hdt. 4.150–8, 5.57. Aparchai: Hdt. 1.92.2, 4.71.4, 4.88.1; dekatai: Hdt. 5.77, 8.27, 9.81. (28) On ver sacrum, see Heurgon (1957), Martin (1973), Malkin (1987), 38–9, Versnel (1993), esp. 304–8. (29) See Chapter 5, section on ‘First offerings and vow fulfilment’. (30) E.g. Versnel (1993), Mari (1999). On ritual expulsions of scapegoats, see e.g. Burkert (1979), 64–77, Bremmer (1983), 299–320, Parker (1983), 24–31, 257–80, Hughes (1991), 129–65, Bonnechere (1994), 293–308, Burkert (1996), 51–5. (31) On the Thargelia at Athens, see Parker (1983), 24–5, (2005), 203–4, 481–3.

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Bibliography

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

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Index of Sources

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

(p.339) Index of Sources I. Literary Texts ADESP. fr. *142 K.–A.57 n. 118 AEL. VH 6.1193 n. 59 AESCH. Ag. 69–71 65 n. 25 227255 n. 24 Cho. 168 34 n. 21 Eum. 834–646 n. 76 Pers. 294 85 n. 99 Sept. 71985 n. 99 Supp. 93–5 85 n. 98 AESCHIN. In Ctes.116 189 n. 48 ALEXIS fr. 177 K.–A.124 n. 30 ANDOC. 1.95264 n. 66 1.96–8264 n. 66 1.12642 n. 59, 45 n. 67 1.146174 n. 133 ANTH. PAL. 6.1144 n. 45 6.4139 n. 33, 167 n. 109 6.13148 n. 53 6.2563 n. 16, 139 n. 33, 167 n. 109 6.26139 n. 33, 167 n. 109 6.27139 n. 33, 167 n. 109 6.28139 n. 33, 167 n. 109 Page 1 of 19

Index of Sources 6.29139 n. 33, 167 n. 109 6.30139 n. 33, 167 n. 109 6.31109 n. 49 6.36109 n. 49 6.4063 n. 16 6.41148 n. 53 6.44109 6.7763 n. 16 6.90139 n. 33, 167 n. 109 6.95139 n. 33, 167 n. 109 6.104139 n. 33, 167 n. 109 6.118148 n. 53 6.133144 n. 45 6.152148 n. 53 6.19625 n. 65, 36 n. 29, 141 n. 37, 143 n. 43 6.208144 n. 45 6.22525 n. 65, 108 6.23825 n. 65, 61, 63, 109 6.239109 n. 49 6.28525 n. 65, 143 n. 43, 158 n. 85 6.28825 n. 65, 143 n. 43, 148 6.289139 n. 33, 148 n. 53 6 passim25 10.9141 n. 37 APOLLOD. Bibl. 1.8.283 n. 88, 105 3.7.3–4282 n. 6 Σ APOLLONIUS RHODIUS I.308282 n. 6 AR. Ach. 24444–5, 45 n. 67 Av. 521208–9 n. 17 586ff.88 85043 n. 62 95942 n. 56 975–641 n. 50 988208–9 n. 17 1515–2462 n. 9, 84 1520119 n. 5 1618–193 n. 4 passim232 Eq. 300–2265 n. 68 729104 n. 33 ΣVΓ 729a79 n. 74, 99 n. 6, 99 n. 9, 104 n. 29 Pax. Page 2 of 19

Index of Sources 192–363 n. 13 390–962 n. 10 416–2462 n. 10, 63 n. 13 938124 n. 28 942124 n. 28 (p.340) 948–6243 n. 62 105640 ΣVΓ 105640 1099–112141 Plut. 130ff.62 133–462 n. 10 1054104 n. 33 ΣVΓ 1054b104 n. 29 ΣVΓ 1054f79 n. 74, 99 n. 6, 99 n. 9 Ran. 363207 n. 12 1240–183 n. 88, 105 Thesm. 13–1871 n. 47 446–58139 724–585 n. 97 Vesp. 399104 n. 33 ARIST. Ath. Pol. 16.4267 n. 74 23.5205 n. 5 43.4216 n. 44 51.4216 n. 44 60.1–2266 n. 70 Eth. Nic. 1133a.3–573 n. 52 1160a115 1163b.12–1872 n. 51, 278 n. 6 1163b.15–1863 n. 14 Mete. 360b.5–12113 [Oec.] 1343b174 n. 134 1345b.31–1346a.5267 n. 74 1346b.31–3267 n. 74 1351a.10–12267 n. 74 1352b.26–32267 n. 74 Pol. 1277a–b174 n. 134 1303a147 n. 49, 154 n. 70 1336 b.27–31263 n. 63 1337b174 n. 134 Page 3 of 19

Index of Sources Rhet. 1404263 n. 63 fr. 485 Rose282–3 582 Rose163 n. 98, 227 n. 84 611.55 Rose281 n. 4 ARISTID. Or. 1.31–8 (Panathenaikos)219 1.36–799 n. 7, 215 1.39999 n. 6, 215 22.3–4 Keil99 n. 7 50.45 Keil82 Σ p. 55.33–56.5 Dindorf99 n. 6 ARR. Anab. 2.24.5235 n. 110 2.26.442 n. 56 6.26.2–3201 7.11.842 n. 59 Cyn. 33.136 n. 29, 81 n. 81 36.436 n. 29, 81 ATH. 3.114a102 n. 22, 103, 105 n. 37 4.143e–f122–3 4.173e–f283 n. 10, 287 n. 26 5.179b–c36 n. 29 5.179d120, 122 6.235b–d257 n. 34 6.265c–266e176–7 n. 3 7.291f–292a124 n. 30 7.297d90 n. 120 8.363d115 n. 71, 122 9.386a–b124 n. 30 14.659d–660a124 n. 30 11.465a106 ATHENIO fr. 1.40–3 K.–A.42 n. 59, 124 n. 30 BACCHYL. 5.94–10283 n. 88 CALLIM. Hymn4 275ff.237 n. 116, 237 n. 119 278285 n. 18 296–934 n. 22 CIC. Div. 1.34.75179 n. 9 CONON, FGrH26 F 1 (29)283 CRATES, FGrH362 Page 4 of 19

Index of Sources F 6 ap. Ath. 3.114a103 F 7 ap. Ath. 6.235b–d257 n. 34 CURT. 4.2.10235 n. 110 DEM. 12.21177 n. 4, 177 n. 5 19.128248 n. 161 19.246263 n. 63 (p.341) 19.272193 n. 58 20.31216 n. 44 21.11442 n. 56 24.22266 n. 71 24.12055, 192 24.12955, 192 25.38174 n. 133 43.54266 n. 71 43.71266 57.30–6174 n. 133 57.45173 n. 131 DIOD. SIC. 4.21.3–6132 n. 8 4.37.1282 n. 5 4.66.5193 n. 62 4.66.5–6282 n. 6 4.81.446 5.2.3ff.213 n. 39 5.4.3–7213 n. 39 8.23.1277 n. 87 fr. 8.23.2281 n. 4 9.10.128 n. 2 11.3.348 n. 87 11.25.1200 n. 85 11.29.1–348 n. 87 11.33.1200 n. 85, 200 n. 86 11.33.2186 n. 36, 190 n. 51 11.48.2162 n. 93 11.65.5194 n. 62 11.66.1–3162 n. 93 12.30.1222 13.62.5199 n. 79 14.40.1281 n. 4 18.20.1198–9 20. 14.1–5235 n. 110 DIOG. LAERT. 1.51163 n. 98, 227 n. 84 1.53267 n. 74 1.55150 n. 60 6.35171 n. 124, 182 n. 22 DION. HAL. Page 5 of 19

Index of Sources Ant. Rom. 19.2281 n. 4 DIPHILUS fr. 42 K.–A.124 n. 30 EPICURUS p. 115 Usener120, 122 Etym. Magn. 53.10–1445 n. 71 118.37–930 137.17–1830 225.1–6227 n. 86 254.11–1350 n. 97 303.18–20104 442.13–15105 443.19–25102 n. 22 457.32–6119 EUBULUS fr. 94 K.–A.57 n. 118 EUR. Alc. 74–642–3, 44–5 132–565 n. 25 Andr. 149–5028 n. 2 fr. 150 Kannicht85 n. 97 fr. 152 Kannicht85 n. 97 Beller. fr. 286 Kannicht65–6 El. 9134, 45 n. 68 810–1233 n. 16 Hec. 488–9185 n. 97 958–6085 n. 97 Heracl. 52942 n. 59 Erechtheus fr. 369 Kannicht139 n. 33 HF 6285 n. 98 47646 n. 72 Hipp. 7–884 145–5083 n. 88 1425–734 n. 22 IA 718255 n. 24 143734 n. 21 1568–943 n. 62 IT Page 6 of 19

Index of Sources 4043 n. 61 53–443 n. 62 5643 n. 61 7546 n. 77 244–543 n. 62 45946 n. 77 475–885 n. 98 62243 n. 62 115443 n. 61 Med. 964–562–3 (p.342) Meleager fr. 516 Kannicht36 n. 29, 36 n. 32, 83 n. 88, 105 Oedipus fr. 554 Kannicht85 n. 97 Or. 9635 n. 23, 36 n. 29 Phoen. 202–15193 n. 62 20345, 287 n. 25 Σ 20345 282193 n. 62, 287 n. 25 555–885 n. 97 57342 n. 56 857177 n. 5 1524–535 n. 23 Supp. 1–41100–1 9734 n. 21 195–21571 n. 47 549–5585 n. 97 Telephus fr. 716 Kannicht85 n. 97 Thyestes fr. 391 Kannicht85 n. 98 Tro. 48034 n. 21 612–1385 n. 97 1060–8065 n. 26 1240–265 n. 26 1280–165 n. 26 EUST. Ad Iliadem 1.461 p. 206 van der Valk30 n. 7 3.222 p. 642 van der Valk283 n. 11 9.534 p. 791 van der Valk105 HARP. δ 16 s.v. δεκατεύειν49–50 HDT. Page 7 of 19

Index of Sources 1.32.985 n. 97 1.34.187 n. 104 1.46.2224 n. 74 1.51.3186 n. 36 1.86.246, 46 n. 74 1.8775 1.8948 n. 89, 200 n. 89 1.89.348 n. 86 1.9075 1.90.446 n. 74 1.92.236, 162 n. 94, 287 n. 27 1.175164 n. 101 2.135143 n. 42, 144, 162, 165 3.57176 n. 2 3.59.3178 n. 7 3.108.271 n. 47 4.24.436 n. 30 4.25.142 n. 56 4.33237 4.33–5237 4.34.1–234 n. 22 4.6042 4.60.245 n. 67 4.61.233, 45 n. 68 4.71.436, 287 n. 27 4.88.136, 287 n. 27 4.10347 n. 77 4.103.142 n. 59, 45 n. 67 4.150–8226 n. 82, 284, 287 n. 27 4.152154, 195 n. 67 4.152.447 n. 81 4.18833 n. 16, 45 n. 68 5.57283 n. 11, 287 n. 27 5.77181, 193 n. 58, 287 n. 27 5.77.447 n. 81 6.79.1182 n. 21 7.13248 7.153.1227 n. 87 7.170.4162 n. 93 8.27287 n. 27 8.27.4–5181 8.27.547 n. 81 8.43282 n. 5 8.93178 n. 8, 200 n. 86 8.121–246 n. 74, 177 n. 4, 178, 190, 200 n. 86 9.80–81179, 180, 199, 201–2 9.8147 n. 81, 177 n. 4, 200 nn. 85–6, 287 n. 27 PS.–HDT. Vit. Hom. Page 8 of 19

Index of Sources 32169 HERACLID. LEMB. Excerpta Politiarum25 281 n. 4 HEROD. 4.14–2063 4.20–3893 n. 131 4.56–7893 n. 131 4.86–862 n. 10 4.90–1267 HES. Op. 47–5257 n. 117 12672 n. 49 (p.343) 336–763 n. 15 336–9125 483–465 n. 25 748–9127 ΣVΓ 748–9127 n. 40 passim97 n. 1 Theog. 4672 n. 48 11172 n. 48 535–5757 fr. 361 Merkelbach–West63 HIPPOC. Aer. 2263 n. 14 HOM. Il. 1.121ff.198 1.46130 n. 7 1.47152 n. 104 2.42430 n. 7 3.273–430 n. 5 4.48–965 n. 24 6.305–1165 n. 25 7.81–362 n. 10 8.73–485 n. 96 9.17653 n. 104 9.199–221119 Σ 9.219–20 Erbse119 9.533–636 n. 32, 83 n. 88, 105 Σ 9.534 Dindorf105 Σ 9.534b Erbse105 10.291–462 n. 10 10.577–9123 n. 24 19.221–485 n. 96 19.252–529 n. 5 22.169–7265 n. 24 Page 9 of 19

Index of Sources 22.208–1385 n. 96 23.13535 n. 23 23.135–5134 n. 21 23.862–583 n. 88 24.33–438 n. 37 24.68–7038 n. 37 24.527ff.85 24.52872 n. 48 Od. 1.64–765 n. 24 3.34052 n. 104 3.430–6429 3.444–629, 32, 42, 43 n. 62 3.45830 n. 7 4.197–834 n. 21, 35 n. 23 4.351–383 n. 88 7.18353 n. 104 8.32572 n. 48 8.33572 n. 48 Σ 9.231 Dindorf120 9.231–2120, 126 12.36130 n. 7 14.414–2429 14.414–56119 14.425–930 14.430–631 Σ14.446 Dindorf31 n. 11 14.446–831, 40 18.41853 n. 104 21.26353 n. 104 21.27253 n. 104 HSCH. α 2606 s.v. ἀκροθίνιον45 n. 71 α 7035 s.v. ἄργματα30 δ 564 s.v. δεκατεύειν50 κ 1385 s.v. κατάρξασθαι τοῦ ἱερείου44 n. 65 θ 65 s.v. θαλύσια105 θ 104 s.v. Θαργήλια102–3 θ 837 s.v. θυηλάς119 λ 1277 s.v. λουτρίδες173 n. 130 π 18 s.v. παγκαρπία104 n. 31 π 3974 s.v. προτέλεια255 n. 24 HYMN. HOM. Ap. 189ff.85 n. 96 Cer. 305 ff.84 n. 91 18 (Herm.)12 72 n. 48 29 (Hestia)8 72 n. 48 ISAE. 5.42130, 175 Page 10 of 19

Index of Sources 6.22256 n. 32 7.27240 n. 133 ISOC. 2.2063 n. 14 4 (Paneg.) 28–31 99 n. 7 4 (Paneg.) 31 218 5.117124 n. 28 7.29–3063 n. 14 16.32–4142 n. 41 JUST. Epit. 5.10.12198 n. 78 18.7.755 n. 114, 235 n. 110 20.355 n. 112, 176, 192 (p.344) LIV. 5.2148 n. 89, 49, 201 5.2348 n. 89, 49, 201 5.2548 n. 89, 49, 201 LYCOPH. Alex. 1187–843 n. 60, 45 n. 68 119338 145036 LYCURG. Leoc.81 48 n. 87 fr. XIV.2a–3 Conomis103–4 fr. XIV.4–5 Conomis98–9 LYS. 12.1179 n. 9 20.2447 n. 81 27.2198 n. 78 MAX. TYR. Dissertations 24.5 Hobein187–8 MEN. Aspis 216–20124 n. 30 Dys. 23ff.114 271–8785 n. 97 326–34114 447–5357 n. 118 644–6124 n. 30 797–81285 n. 97 Epit. 1096–885 n. 97 Kol. fr. 1 Körte and Sandbach124 n. 30 Methe fr. 224 K.–A.62 n. 9 Page 11 of 19

Index of Sources Pk. 992–1000124 n. 30 Pseudherakles fr. 409.1–5 K.–A.124 n. 30 MENEKLES of Barka, FGrH270 F 8 104 n. 29 NYMPHODORUS of Syracuse, FGrH572 F 4 176–7 PARTH. Amat. narr. V.5–6283 n. 10 PAUS. 1.14.5184 n. 26 1.23.3142 n. 40 1.24.3169 n. 115 1.27.1143 n. 42 1.28.2181 n. 20, 182, 193 n. 58 1.31.2238 1.37.3263 n. 63 1.42.5285 n. 18 1.43.434 n. 22 3.18.7–8183 n. 58 4.14.2193 n. 58 4.23.5–10281 n. 4 4.34.9–10282 5.10.4188–9 5.21.192 5.23.1–3179 n. 11 5.23.7177 n. 4 5.24.1177 n. 4 5.24.6162 n. 93 5.25.192 5.26.1188 n. 44 5.26.2–5162 n. 93 5.27.9141 n. 37, 176 n. 2 5.27.12177 n. 4 6.19.4177 n. 4, 193 n. 62 7.3.1–4282 9.4.1177 n. 5, 180 n. 15, 182, 193 n. 58 9.33.1–2282 n. 7 10.9.3–4141 n. 37, 176 n. 2 10.9.10264 10.10.1–2177 n. 4, 184 10.11.283 n. 88, 176 n. 2 10.11.5184 10.11.6177 n. 4, 193 n. 62 10.14.5178 n. 6 10.18.7177 n. 4, 177 n. 5 PAUS. ATT. Page 12 of 19

Index of Sources δ 23 (135) Erbse283 n. 11 ε 17 Erbse103 n. 28, 104 n. 33 PHANODEMUS FGrH325 F12 106–7 PHERECRATES Automoloi fr. 28. K.–A.57 n. 118 PHILO De posteritate Caini 3272 n. 49 PHILOCHORUS, FGrH328 F75 241 n. 136 PHOT. α 857 s.v. ἀκροθίνια45 n. 71 π 453.6–7 s.v. Προηροσία99 (p.345) θ 22 s.v. Θαργήλια102 n. 22, 103 λ 408 s.v. λουτρίδες173 n. 130 π 378.10 s.v. πανσπερμία104 n. 31 PIND. Nem. Σ 5.1171 n. 124, 182 n. 22 Ol. 2.445 n. 69, 46 10. 24–59 46 n. 73 10.5745 n. 69 Pyth. 4.4–11226 n. 82, 284 n. 15 4.59–63226 n. 82, 284 n. 15 5.85–95226 n. 82, 284 n. 15 fr. dub. 357 Maehler46 PL. Alc. ii. 138b65 n. 25 148d65 n. 25 148d–149e63 n. 14 150a63 n. 14 Euthphr. 14b–e61 14e278 15a84 Leg. 717b5–c372 n. 51 910a–b124 n. 28 995e63 n. 14 Phd. 58a–c238 117b–c123 n. 24 118a86 n. 102 Plt. 290c–d61 n. 8 Page 13 of 19

Index of Sources Prt. 343b28 n. 2 Resp. 331b–c86 390e63 469e–470a187 Ti. 27c88 n. 110 PLAUT. Bacch. 666 132 n. 8 Mostell. 984 132 n. 8 Stich.233 132 n. 8 386132 n. 8 395132 n. 8 Truc. 562 55 n. 114, 132 n. 8 PLUT. Ages. 19.3182 Arist. 20.1–3180 24205 n. 5 Cleom. 19.4200 n. 87 Lys. 12.1179 n. 9 27.2198 n. 78 Mar. 27.5121 n. 18, 122 Nic. 3.4–6238 n. 124 Per. 17217 n. 49 Sol. 23.3150 n. 60 24.1216 n. 44 Them. 15178 n. 7 Thes. 5.134 n. 22 15282 16.2283 22.4–7103–4 22.543 n. 62 22.7104 n. 30 Conv. Sept. sap. 158c–f128 De glor. Ath. 348e263 n. 63 De malignitate Herodoti Page 14 of 19

Index of Sources 873a–b180 873c–d186 n. 36 De Pyth. or. 401c–d187 n. 40 401f–402a284, 286 402a72 Quaest. conv. 655e107 n. 44, 112, 121 n. 18 703d127 n. 40 Quaest. Graec. 293b284 298f–299a283 303f156 n. 79 Quaest. Rom. 267e–f132 n. 8 fr. 95 Sandbach126–7 (p.346) POLYB. 2.19.3198–9 4.77.5181 n. 18 5.14.879 n. 75 5.24.10181 n. 18 5.25.1–3198–9 5.107.6199 n. 79 9.27228 n. 88 9.39.548 n. 87, 49 n. 92 18.27.4199 n. 79 31.12.12235 n. 110 PORPH. Abst. 2.6.1–4128 2.6.469–70, 121 2.8.1–269–70, 83 2.12.269–70 2.13.463 n. 14 2.15.363 n. 14 2.16.5124 2.19.463 n. 14 2.20.184, 117 2.24.135, 82, 84 2.27.135 2.32.135 2.61.163 n. 14 PYRGIO, FGrH 467 F 1 122–3 SALLUST. De diis et mundo 16.172 SEN. Ben. Page 15 of 19

Index of Sources 1.6.1–363 n. 14 1.9.163 n. 14 3.1–573 n. 52 passim26 n. 67 Ep. 81.663 n. 14 SOPH. Aj. 127–3387 n. 104 176–883 n. 88 38385 n. 97 522–472–3 758ff.87 n. 104 1077–8085 n. 97 1173–434 n. 21 El. 1376–8375 n. 58 1423119 n. 5 Trach. 182–336 n. 29, 177 n. 5 760–236–7, 177 n. 5, 193 n. 62 993–575 n. 58 fr. 844 Radt169 n. 115 STRABO 6.1.14, 264 154 n. 70 6.1.15, 264 110 n. 52, 176 n. 2 6.1.6, 257 281 6.1.9, 260 281–2, 287 n. 26 6.2.5, 272 228 n. 88 7.7.6, 325 178 n. 7 8.6.13, 373 282 n. 5 9.2.11, 404 241 14.5.8, 671163 n. 98, 227 n. 84 14.5.16–17, 676227 n. 83 17.1.38, 811–1236 n. 29, 117 n. 2 SUDA α 1002 s.v. ἀκροθίνια45 n. 71 α 18 s.v. Ἄβαρις98–9 δ 1395 s.v. Δόρυ κηρύκειον283 δ 1490 s.v. δράγματα109 ει 184 s.v. εἰρεσιώνη103 θ 49 s.v. Θαργήλια102 n. 22, 103 π 216 s.v. πανσπερμία104 n. 31 π 2420 s.v. Προηροσίαι99, 102 TERT. Apol. 14.155 n. 114 THEOC. Idyll 7.1–4105–6 Page 16 of 19

Index of Sources Σ 7.3c Wendel105 7.31–473, 105–6 7.131–57115 7.155–7106 THEOPHR. Char. 10.336 n. 30, 121 n. 18, 122 21.334 n. 22 21.757 Hist. Pl. 8.2.7103 Piet. fr. 2.26–43128 2.39–4369–70, 121 3.8–1869–70, 83 7.4–1069–70 7.33–663 n. 14 (p.347) 7.52–463 n. 14 8.20–263 n. 14 9.1–863 n. 14 9.12–1584, 117 12.42–935, 82, 84 13.15–2235 19.3–735 THUC. 1.25.444 n. 64 1.96205 n. 5 1.132.246 n. 74, 179 n. 11 1.132.2–3186, 188 n. 41 2.13.3–5211 n. 29, 259 n. 43 2.84.4178 n. 7 2.92.5178 n. 7 3.19.1222 n. 64 3.19.2213 n. 36 3.50193 3.58.4222 n. 66 3.104238 n. 124 3.114.1200 n. 87 5.19.2208 n. 17 5.24.1208 n. 17 6.4.3227 n. 87 6.4.4228 n. 88 6.20275 n. 2 6.20.4221, 233 6.34.1222 n. 65 6.44.3281 n. 4 6.88.4222 n. 65 7.28.4207 8.45.5222 n. 64 Page 17 of 19

Index of Sources XEN. Ages. 1.3447 n. 81, 47 n. 82 An. 3.2.12182 n. 25 4.8.25182 n. 25 5.3.4–13185–6, 193 5.3.7–13260 5.3.948 n. 86 5.3.1340 n. 45, 47 n. 79, 48 n. 85, 51 n. 102, 257–8, 261 n. 50, 270, 272 6.6.2200 7.7.56181 n. 18 Cyr. 1.6.384 1.6.4665 n. 25 4.1.281 n. 81, 83, 190 4.1.2–4190–1 4.5.14199 4.5.51199 4.6.11199 5.3.283, 190, 199 5.3.483, 190, 199 7.1.183, 121 7.3.183, 190, 199 7.5.3583, 190, 199, 200 n. 85 8.7.378–9 Hell. 1.1.22267 n. 74 1.2.5200 n. 88 1.7.1048 n. 89, 265 n. 68 1.7.2048 n. 89, 265 n. 68 3.5.5198 3.5.12199 n. 79 4.1.26–8198–9 4.3.2147 n. 82, 182 6.3.699 n. 7 6.3.2049 6.5.3549 Eq. mag. 9.984 Hier. 4.2121 Mem. 1.1.1971 n. 44 1.3.363 n. 14, 63 n. 15 1.4.2–1871 4.3.2–1771 4.3.1663 n. 15 4.3.16–763 n. 14 Page 18 of 19

Index of Sources 4.8.2238 n. 125 Oec. 4.1–3174 n. 134 5.1–20113 5.10115 5.19–2087–8, 113, 169–70 6.187–8 11.7–888 11.883 17.2–4113 17.4102 Symp. 4.47–986

Page 19 of 19

II. Inscriptions

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

II. Inscriptions AÉPIGR (2000), no. 283132 n. 8 (2000), no. 289132 n. 8 AGORA I 4571137 n. 25 (p.348) XVI 73.16–22265 XVI 160261 n. 50, 262 n. 55, 270 n. 95, 273 XVIII V578139 n. 31 XVIII V579139 n. 31 XIX H 34240 XIX L2–3193 n. 59 ASYLIA 2246 28244 n. 144, 245 n. 152 29244 n. 144, 245 n. 152 32244 n. 144, 245 n. 152 49247 n. 158 66244, 246 68244–5 79244–5 80244–5 81244–5 86244–5 97244–5 101243 n. 143, 244–5, 247 102244–5, 247 107244–5 109244–5 110244–5 127244–5 128244–5 Page 1 of 19

II. Inscriptions 129244–5 131244–5 ATL II D 3–6206 D 21206 1204 25206 26206 33204 34204 39204 BCH 1 (1877), 84, no. 17193 n. 58 54 (1930), 392–4, no. 1177 n. 4 BE (1956), no. 2395 n. 140 (1956), no. 10095 n. 140 (1959), no. 320155–7 (1964), no. 180147 n. 51 (1964), no. 53395 n. 140 (1967), no. 697153 (1969), no. 496229 n. 90 (1970), no. 38395 n. 140 (1971), no. 40895 n. 140 (1977), no. 33572 n. 49 (1991), no. 10541 n. 51 BERNABÉ (2005), Orphic fr. 488144 n. 44 BIZARD (1920) 247–9, no. 9243 n. 143, 244 n. 144 CEG 230138 251149–50 264168 266141 26893 275142 32647 n. 83, 61, 79 n. 76 33293 387168 752110 75973, 93 n. 135 774138–9 81893 CID I 8 267 n. 77 II 1–30 261–2 1261–2, 263–4 3261–2 Page 2 of 19

II. Inscriptions 4261–2, 263 6261–2 7262 n. 56 10261–2 11262 nn. 56–7 12262 nn. 56–7 23262 nn. 56–7 24262 CIG 2660163–4 CIL I2 632132 n. 8 1482132 n. 8 1531132 n. 8, 158 n. 85 1698132 n. 8 1805132 n. 8 2645132 n. 8 3284132 n. 8 VI 29132 n. 8 IX 4071a132 n. 8 X 3956132 n. 8, 166 n. 105 DAA 28149–50 44136 48137 n. 24 (p.349) 49141–2 53167–8 70137 n. 25 93141 132142 168181, 189 172182 173181, 189 184137 n. 24 191110, 141 197133–5 210137 n. 24 213168 217136–7, 161, 166 218142 224137 n. 24, 138 225135–6 22974, 93, 141, 172–3 236157 n. 81 248157 n. 81 28386, 110, 141, 152 n. 65, 157 28442 290137 n. 24 291137 n. 24 Page 3 of 19

II. Inscriptions 29253 29693 306226 n. 81 342141–2 349136–7, 166 350136–7, 166 351136–7, 166 352136–7, 166 353136–7, 166 357136–7, 166 358136–7, 166 380140–1 83293 D’AMORE (2007) 65A–B162 DAUX (1939), 145–6 197 (1958), 329–34 177 n. 4 EBGR 2006 [2009], 217, no. 1341 n. 51 2007 [2010], 293, no. 4537 n. 35 ENGELMANN (2007) 134–537, 40 n. 49, 252–3, 273 ERTUĞRUL AND MALAY (2010)90 n. 118, 152 FD III.1 130177 n. 4 137177 n. 4 289177 n. 4 308244 n. 144 318244 n. 144 573177 n. 4 III.2 146 n. 74, 177 n. 4, 183–4 2–58240 6.2–4242 13.19242 18241 n. 136 19241 n. 136 20241 n. 136 21241 n. 136 22241 n. 136 46.1242 48.7–8241 n. 136 48.11242 54.3–5242 88243 n. 143, 244 n. 144, 254 n. 16 III.3 150177 n. 4 Page 4 of 19

II. Inscriptions 24928 n. 2 III.4 1177 n. 4, 188 2177 n. 4, 188 184177 n. 4 187157 191177 n. 4 208177 n. 4 453162 456177 n. 4 III.6 60177 n. 4 I.IASOS 4229–30 72236 n. 115 I.CRET. I viii 4199 n. 84 I xvi 5199 n. 84 I xix 1199 n. 84 III iii 3A–B199 n. 84 III iii 4199 n. 84 III vi 7A267 n. 74 IV 180199 n. 84 IV 182199 n. 84 IV 184.a267 n. 75 IV 244.172 n. 49 I.DÉLOS 17157, 164 n. 102 54163 100.49239 (p.350) 101.38–41238 103.56–62238 104.113–19238 104 (3).A.8239 295.9–10163 296.B.43–4163 298.A.1424 n. 60, 239 298.A.18239 298.A.147163 313.AB.1124 n. 60, 239 313.AB.7524 n. 60, 239 314.B.8324 n. 60, 239 320.B.4224 n. 60, 239 320.B.5824 n. 60, 239 338.C.4824 n. 60, 239 371.B.17239 372.B.21–224 n. 60, 239 379.1224 n. 60, 239 380.79158–9 n. 86 Page 5 of 19

II. Inscriptions 385.A.81158–9 n. 86 396.B.55239 399.B.131163 421.59239 421.62239 421.72158–9 n. 86 439.a.44158–9 n. 86 442.B.47158–9 n. 86 442.B.11424 n. 60, 239 442.B.193163 443.B.b.3824 n. 60, 239 443.B.b.118163 444.B.36–7163 461.B.a.53–4158–9 n. 86 461.B.b.26163 1417.A.II.102–3152 1434.16158–9 n. 86 1442.A.56–7162–3 1443.B.I.100163 2098162–3, 166 n. 105 211679–80 211779–80 212079–80 2138162–3, 166 n. 105 2139162–3, 166 n. 105 2203162–3, 166 n. 105 I.DIDYMA 7195 426.4–6224–5 427.6–7224–5 427.7–8224–5 427.12–14224–5 428.5–7224–5 431.7–9224–5 432.6–9224–5 432.9–11224–5 432.14–18224–5 433.7–8224–5 433.8–10224–5 444.3–4224–5 444.2–3224–5 446.7224–5 446.8–9224–5 446.9–11224–5 447.7224–5 449.6–7224–5 452.3–4224–5 452.9–10224–5 453.5–6224–5 Page 6 of 19

II. Inscriptions 457.10224–5 463.17–18224–5 464.10–11224–5 464.11–12224–5 468.8–9224–5 471.7–9224–5 475.17–18224–5 475.19224–5 I.ELEUSIS 13101 n. 17 19218 28100–1, 207–19 45218 52218 138218 142218 177211, 218–19 504210 532210 I.FAYOUM 71259 n. 45 I.HISTRIAE 10141, 159 I.KNIDOS 13879 n. 75 30128 n. 2 I.LABRAUNDA 14148 n. 55 15148 n. 55 I.MAGNESIA 17283 n. 10 I.PERGAMON 4736 n. 29, 177 n. 5, 190, 193 n. 58 (p.351) 60177 n. 5, 190, 193 n. 58 62a46 n. 74, 143, 196 16546 n. 74, 143, 157, 191 n. 54, 196 n. 71 I.PERGE 1428 n. 2 I.PRIENE 5219–21, 234 6220 n. 58 36218, 256–7, 260, 268, 272 I.SMYRNA 723257 n. 34 IG I2 561169 n. 115 730149–50 IG I3 5101 n. 17, 255 n. 24 Page 7 of 19

II. Inscriptions 6218, 250 n. 1 8254, 272 34207, 219–20 40265 46207, 219–20 52.A.6–7267 n. 74 61206 62206 71207, 219–20 7890, 100–1, 207–19, 234, 250 n. 1, 256 n. 31, 275 n. 2 101176 n. 2, 206–7 n. 10 13052 n. 103, 254, 261 n. 50, 266 n. 73, 270 n. 95, 272 136270, 272 250100 259204 n. 3 281206 282206 285204 287204 289204 383270 n. 94 386218 387218 391218 458a.11142 n. 39 501181, 189, 193 n. 58 505182, 193 n. 58 514226 n. 81 52638 n. 39 53138 n. 39 536166–7 542142, 150 546173 54738 n. 39, 159 548bis159 n. 87, 166–7 554173 554bis158–9 n. 86 555182 n. 22 55938 n. 39, 158 n. 86 561bis158 n. 86 565158 n. 86, 160 fig. 5 56638 n. 39, 158 n. 86 570bis157, 158 n. 86 574158 n. 86 583158–9 n. 86 597167 n. 109 606173 608149–50, 157 616141–2 Page 8 of 19

II. Inscriptions 617157 620133 n. 10 62836 n. 29, 133–5, 149–50 631137 n. 24, 157 632157 633133 n. 10, 136, 157 638157 64453, 131 n. 4, 164 n. 100 646173 64736 n. 29, 79 n. 76, 137 n. 24, 149–50 667157 68038 n. 39 69536 n. 29, 131 n. 4, 137 n. 24, 149–50, 164 n. 100 69638 n. 39, 137 n. 24 69847 n. 81, 149–50, 167 n. 107 69920 n. 49, 136–7, 161, 166 700141, 167 n. 107 70238 n. 39 70342 7053 n. 5, 157 n. 81 71179 n. 76 718167–8 72862 n. 10 73036 n. 30, 149–50 73138 n. 39 7353 n. 5, 86, 110, 141, 152 n. 65, 157 74038 n. 39 764137 766137 n. 24, 138, 149–50 7733 n. 5, 157 n. 81 77947 n. 81, 137 n. 24, 149–50 794140–1, 167 n. 107, 172–3 80047 n. 81, 110, 141, 195 n. 67 (p.352) 811168 824133 n. 10, 135–6 82836 n. 29, 73–4, 93, 141, 172–3 83293, 161 n. 91 83438 n. 39 84838 n. 39 857157 86254, 131 n. 4, 157 87238 n. 39, 79 n. 76, 142, 157 883142 885157 893167 n. 109 905141–2 921141 n. 34 92620 n. 49, 136–7, 166 92720 n. 49, 136–7, 166 Page 9 of 19

II. Inscriptions 92820 n. 49, 136–7, 166 92920 n. 49, 136–7, 166 93020 n. 49, 136–7, 166 93120 n. 49, 136–7, 166 93220 n. 49, 136–7, 166 934141 n. 34 950161 n. 91 971167 n. 107 992210 1021161 n. 91 1463B46 n. 74, 177 n. 4, 183–4 IG II2 43265, 266 125265 140218 333261, 272 456221 466221 555171 n. 124, 182 n. 22 566220 n. 58 992210 1035.23–4219 1088.49215–16 1128266 1136240 1177100 1183100 121551 n. 102, 255–6, 261, 268–9, 273 1237256 n. 32, 266 133028 n. 2 135640 n. 48 135940 n. 48, 43 n. 62 136340 n. 48, 98, 100, 103 n. 28 1388.69159 n. 87 1553–78151 1636.A.8239 167252 n. 103, 211, 218–19 2325.262263 n. 63 2336238–9, 241 n. 136, 242 2789193 n. 58 2816240 2817240 2934141 n. 34, 173 2939=433938, 92 n. 124, 139 n. 31, 150–1 2956210 2957210 3846149–50 431873, 93, 139 n. 31, 157 432036 n. 30, 149–50 Page 10 of 19

II. Inscriptions 4328169 n. 115 4329139 n. 31, 169 n. 115 433436 n. 30, 67 n. 34, 79 n. 76, 84, 92 n. 125, 138–9, 149–50 4338169 n. 115 458772 n. 49, 110, 149–50 4599157 473072 n. 49 4853161 n. 91 490436 n. 29, 149–50 IG II/III3 320265 399265 445261, 272 1372.a210 IG IV2.1 123.21–947 n. 81, 147, 157 23793 IG V.1 139040 n. 48 1568188 IG V.2 p. 69197 IG VII 37143, 196 73215–6 74215–6 179493 245647 n. 83 4136246 4138244 n. 144, 245 n. 152 4139244 n. 144 4146244 n. 144 IG IX.1 13146, 93, 144 n. 44, 152, 197 n. 75 654257–8 (p.353) IG IX.12 1700257–8, 273 IG XI.2 161.B.14239 161.B.15239 161.B.66239 161.B.70239 161.B.71239 161.B.74–524 n. 60, 239 162.B.11239 162.B.12239 162.B.53239 164.A.2–3239 184.624 n. 60, 239 Page 11 of 19

II. Inscriptions 199.B.7–824 n. 60, 239 199 B.14239 226.B.3–4239 244.1024 n. 60, 239 287.A.9–10267 n. 74 287.B.4224 n. 60, 239 IG XI.4 1220163 1241163 1243163 1247162 n. 95, 167 n. 107 124853–4, 131 n. 4, 152, 162, 167 n. 107 IG XII.1 41.6197 n. 73 775163 IG XII.3 41679 n. 75 42079 n. 75 43640 n. 45, 258–9, 272 IG XII.4 71252 n. 9, 273 27533–4 278.32–343 n. 62 29451 n. 101, 251–2, 259, 261 n. 50, 273 29851 n. 102, 256, 273 302254–5, 270 n. 90 31951 n. 101, 51 n. 102, 251–2, 254–5, 259, 270, 273 325270 n. 90 330255 356255 IG XII.5 913192 n. 55 IG XII.6 172212–13 577155–7 IG XII.7 23740 n. 48 IG XII.8 156.B.17–23230 273236 274236 IG XII.9 192272 IG XIV 268191, 222 n. 67 64347 n. 81, 67 n. 35, 145–7, 159 n. 87 IGASMG IV 292 n. 124, 153, 157 1567 n. 35, 143 n. 42, 145–7, 152, 159 n. 87 Page 12 of 19

II. Inscriptions IGDOP 6455 88251 ILLRP 5155 136158 n. 85 ILS 321655 3413166 n. 105 IOSPE I² 76251 ISCR. COS ED62 270 n. 90 ED178 254–5, 270 n. 90 IvO 253177 n. 4, 188–9, 193 n. 62 254177 n. 4 255177 n. 4 256177 n. 4 259177 n. 4, 188 267162 268162 JHS 12 (1891), 263–4, no. 49143, 196–7 16 (1896), 215–6, no. 4163–4 KUNZE et al. (1937–) VIII, 88–9177 n. 4, 193 n. 62, 194 n. 63 LAZZARINI (1976) 68447 69253, 195 701145–7 70355 (p.354) 704177 n. 4, 193 n. 62, 194 n. 63 705177 n. 4, 193, n. 62, 194 n. 63 79547 n. 83, 61 819138 n. 29, 168 987177 n. 4 LGS II 83258 n. 36 128258–9 LHÔTE (2006) 289, 114 589 8a89 76114 77114 78114 79a114 11689 Page 13 of 19

II. Inscriptions LINDOS II 224–5, 225–8 2.B.9–14143, 152 2.B.57–9193 n. 58 2.B.79193 n. 58 2.B.105–6154, 161, 163 2.B.109–17193 n. 58, 226 2.C.11–14193 n. 58, 226–7 2.C.15–20154, 158 2.C.29–35226 n. 81, 226–7 2.C.56–9227–8 2.C.57–8193 n. 58 2.C.75–954, 131 n. 4, 177 n. 5, 193 n. 58, 226–7 2.C.80–3193 n. 58 4154 n. 110, 132 n. 7 44131 n. 4, 226 n. 81 72143 8836 n. 29, 143 n. 42, 177 n. 5, 178 n. 7, 193 n. 58, 196 29146 n. 74, 143 n. 42, 193 n. 58, 196–7 LÖHR (2000) 2154 8154 9226 40136–7 45162 52162 LSAM 24A40 n. 48, 268 3918, 256–7, 260, 268, 272 50.23–533 n. 16 LSCG 798, 100, 103 n. 28 25259 n. 41 2943 n. 62 8647 n. 79, 257–8, 270 n. 92, 273 8851 n. 101, 251, 273 13440 n. 45, 258–9, 272 151.A.31–243 n. 62 151.D33–4 155252 n. 9, 273 161270 n. 90 163255 175255 LSS 18100 1944 n. 63, 267 n. 77 21259 n. 41 35253, 272 39267 n. 77 Page 14 of 19

II. Inscriptions 46272 7251 n. 101, 252, 261 n. 50, 270, 273 85268 11551 MA (1999) 311–17, no. 1844 n. 63, 228–30 329–35, no. 26229–30 MCXABE, Halikarnassos Inscriptions 34259 n. 42, 273 36259 n. 42, 273 66163–4 121143–4, 152 MCCABE, Miletus Inscriptions 243152 MILET I.3 137224 n. 73 14120 n. 50, 90, 223–5, 234, 269 n. 88, 275 n. 2 ML 5226 n. 82, 284–5 15181, 189 1946 n. 74, 177 n. 4, 183–4 27179 n. 11, 187 36188–9, 193 n. 62 38191, 222 n. 67 39205 n. 6 42.B199 n. 84 46207, 219–20 49207, 219–20 52265 (p.355) 58.A.6-7267 n. 74 65206 66226 n. 81 69207, 219–20 72211 7320 n. 50, 100–1, 207–19, 269 n. 88 74188 77211 89206–7 n. 10 NGSL 330 n. 7 2739 OGIS 179259 n. 45 26979 n. 74, 190 27379 n. 74, 190 28079 n. 74, 190 28136 n. 29, 177 n. 5, 190 32879 n. 74, 190 ÖZTÜRK AND SÜEL (2011)39 Page 15 of 19

II. Inscriptions PARKER AND OBBINK (2000) no. 1251–2, 254–5, 259, 270, 273 PARKER AND OBBINK (2001a) no. 4A251–2, 259, 261 n. 50, 273 no. 6256, 273 PETRAKOS (1997) no. 27651 n. 101, 253–4, 270, 272 no. 27751 n. 101, 253–4, 270, 272 PETROPOULOU (1981) no. 1253–4, 270, 272 no. 2253–4, 270, 272 RIG I G-27132 n. 8 28132 n. 8 64–6132 n. 8 148132 n. 8 183–4132 n. 8 202–6132 n. 8 214132 n. 8 RIGSBY AND HALLOF (2001) no. 2244 n. 144 no. 3244 n. 144 RO 1.D45 n. 69, 46 n. 76 5256 n. 32, 266 22265, 266 26211, 218 n. 52, 219 n. 53 27253–4, 270, 272 3744 n. 63, 267 n. 77 40266 62A.31–343 n. 62 62D33–4 63100 69265 79265 81258 8848 n. 87 9751 SUPPL. EPIGR. CIREN. 35–41131–2 n. 6 49 (3)94 n. 138, 131–2 n. 6 132a193 n. 58 133–5131–2 n. 6 137–42131–2 n. 6 15194 n. 138, 131–2 n. 6 15294 n. 138, 131–2 n. 6 248a131–2 n. 6 249–52131–2 n. 6 SEG Page 16 of 19

II. Inscriptions II 18428 n. 2 III 587251 IV 187259 n. 42, 273 IV 188259 n. 42, 273 IX 7251 IX 76131–2 n. 6, 178 n. 7, 193 n. 58, 196–7 IX 77131–2 n. 6, 193 n. 58, 196 IX 78131–2 n. 6 IX 80131–2 n. 6 IX 83–4131–2 n. 6 IX 87–8131–2 n. 6 IX 100131–2 n. 6 IX 303–494 n. 138, 131–2 n. 6 IX 30794 n. 138, 131–2 n. 6 IX 309–1294 n. 138, 131–2 n. 6 IX 314–17131–2 n. 6 XII 391155 n. 75 XV 251177 n. 4 XV 526155–7 XVIII 36151 XXI 561151 XXII 50992, 154–5, 255 XXV 178151 XXV 180151 XXV 220139 n. 31 XXV 463138 n. 29, 168 XXVI 45147 n. 81, 143 XXVI 1831196 n. 70 XXVIII 431162 (p.356) XXVIII 838143–4, 152 XXIX 1673196 n. 70 XXX 61218 XXX 1290195 XXX 134172 n. 49 XXXI 67221 XXXI 415253–4, 270 XXXI 416253–4, 270 XXXI 558177 n. 4, 178 n. 7 XXXII 511244 n. 144 XXXII 550188 XXXIII 147100 XXXIII 58241 n. 51 XXXIV 1189152 XXXV 11330 n. 7, 40 n. 48 XXXVI 20630 n. 7 XXXVIII 78341 n. 53, 94 n. 139, 158 n. 86 XXXVIII 1870131–2 n. 6 XXXVIII 1892196 n. 70 XL 10254 n. 18 Page 17 of 19

II. Inscriptions XL 58741 n. 51 XL 114572 n. 49 XLI 18251 n. 102, 255, 270, 272 XLI 100344 n. 63, 228–30 XLII 293147 XLIII 63039 XLIII 715236 n. 115, 244 n. 144 XLIV 68151 XLIV 21440 n. 48 XLIV 154194 n. 138, 131–2 n. 6, 158–9 n. 86 XLV 1414192 n. 55 XLV 1566195 XLVI 180151 XLVII 346143 n. 42 XLVIII 96211 XLIX 1328191–2 n. 55 L 68541 n. 51 L 76651 n. 101, 51 n. 102, 251–2, 254–5, 259, 270, 273 LI 31254 n. 18 LI 106251 n. 102, 256, 273 LI 106651 n. 101, 251–2, 259, 261 n. 50, 273 LIV 63–9204 n. 3 LIV 143261 n. 51 LIV 21440 n. 48, 44 n. 63 LIV 101772 n. 49 LVII 55254, 272 LVII 57779 n. 75 LVII 1150.A267 n. 74 LVII 167437, 252–3 LVII 200294 n. 138, 131–2 n. 6 LVIII 1211148–9, 196–7 SGDI II 1653145–7 III 5731163–4 SYLL.3 3g195 31179 n. 11, 187 35Bb177 n. 4 40177 n. 4 202B177 n. 4 296240 297240 696240 697240, 242 698240 699240 711240, 242 728240, 242 976212–13 Page 18 of 19

II. Inscriptions TAM II 118447 n. 81, 153 TAM V.1 42672 n. 49 TIT. CAL. 100152, 157 n. 81 TIT. CAM. 5.II.7143 n. 42 14.4=14bis.4143 n. 42 TOD 84206–7 n. 10 203196–7 THesCRA, VOL. 1 p. 277 no. 3047 n. 83, 61 p. 277 no. 31155–7 p. 277 no. 3353, 195 p. 277 no. 3753 p. 277 no. 38167–8 p. 277 no. 40149–50 p. 277 no. 41110 p. 277–8 no. 42141 p. 278 no. 43142 p. 278 no. 45226 n. 81 p. 278 no. 4893 (p.357) p. 278 no. 53138–9 p. 286 no. 64137 n. 25 p. 310 no. 181145–7 p. 311 no. 184195 p. 311 no. 187168 p. 315 no. 208144 VATIN (1981) 454–5, no. 1177 n. 4, 178 n. 7 WELLES (1934) no. 41267 n. 74 no. 51267 n. 74

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Subject Index

Sharing with the Gods: Aparchai and Dekatai in Ancient Greece Theodora Suk Fong Jim

Print publication date: 2014 Print ISBN-13: 9780198706823 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: September 2014 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198706823.001.0001

(p.358) Subject Index Greek words are positioned alphabetically as if transliterated into English (aspirates are ignored). Acropolis, Athenian, see Athena in Athens; Attica Acropolis, at Lindos, see Lindian acropolis; Lindian Chronicle ἀδεκάτευτος 265 n. 68 Aegina 178–9, 180, 200 n. 86, 201 Aeginetan drachmai 171 n. 124, 262 agalma 1, 67, 73, 110, 162, 168, 195 Agesilaus, king 26, 47 n. 82, 182 agriculture:  agricultural cycle 97 agricultural festivals 97–107, 193, 260, see also Pithoigia; Proerosia; Pyanopsia; Thalusia; Thargelia agricultural festivals and social functions 115–16 fertility rituals 6, 9, 15, 16 and festivals, timing of 97 first-fruits, see agricultural first-fruits and Kore’s passage between the two worlds 97 n. 1 risks in 113–14 agricultural first-fruits: in agricultural festivals 73, 97–107, see also Pithoigia; Proerosia; Pyanopsia; Thalusia; Thargelia outside agricultural festivals 107–111, 195 and debts to gods 74 as the earliest sacrifice? 69–70, 274 to Eleusis, see Eleusinian first-fruits to Hellenistic monarchs 228–31 from land-holders 39, 193, 257–9, 260 preferable to military offerings 187 from states 176 n. 2 Page 1 of 26

Subject Index to Syracuse? 221–3 taboo on, see taboo akrothinion: etymology 20 semantics 20, 45–6 in military contexts 177–80, 183–4, 190, 194 n. 63, 197, 227, 248, 282, 287 not military? 197 of human beings 282, 287 altars 33, 117, 143, 152 altars, household 109, 123–4, see also hearth, household Amorgos, sending first offerings: individuals from 163 ambassadors from 225 Amphiaraus : cult of 253–4, 270, 271, 272 receives first offerings 162 n. 94 Amphilochus 227 Amphitrite 169 Amyclae 193 n. 58 Anaia 213 Anakes: receive first offerings 143 ancestral customs 90, 100, 126, 209, 221 n. 61, 223, 234, 235 n. 110 andron 147–8, 197 n. 73 Anthesteria 7, 98 n. 3, 106–7 anthropomorphism 62, 63–4, 120, 126, see also gods, resemblance to men anthropology: on first-fruits 5–14, 115, 199 on gift-giving 64–5, 68–9, 74–5, 165, 213–5 on thanks 77–8 Antiochus III 228–30 aparche: absolute uses 38 not in Homer 29–30, 120 in dedicatory contexts 36, 56, 58, see also dedications; dedicators as priestly portion? 37–8, 252–3, 260, see also priests, prerogatives of in sacrificial contexts 36–8, 58 no secular use 52, 222, 267, 275, see also aparchai and dekatai, differences and similiarities metaphorical uses 28 n. 2 see also eparche; first-fruits (p.359) aparchai and dekatai: ad-hoc basis 165–6 agricultural, see agricultural first-fruits ancient and modern conceptions of 18 main characteristics of 2, 19–20 chronological distribution 23, 131–2 differences and similarities 2, 52–5, 267 economic potential of 210–7, 223 n. 71, 233 frequency 20, 123–5, 129, 166–7, see also dedications, repeated Page 2 of 26

Subject Index of human beings: see human first offerings obligatory 203–19, 221–5, 231–6, 248, 250–60, 262 n. 55, 266–70, 275 occasions for dedication 149–66, see also aparchai and dekatai, general trends of offering other offerings, differences from 1–2, 80–1 other offerings, blurred distinction from 167–8 geographical distribution 23–4, 131–2 identification of 17–19, 24, 95, 97–8, 167–8 of liquid, see libations; liquid offerings (outside meals); meals, offerings at at meals, see meals, offerings at military, see military first offerings monetary, see monetary first offerings a portion, diminished sense of 20, 38, 151, 224, 239, 249, 266–7, 274 preliminary, diminished sense of 20, 166, 249, 274 as precondition for divine service 253, 255, 270, 286 from private individuals, see dedications, private; dedicators, private retirement offerings 67, 82, 133–6, 139, 145–6, 166, 167 n. 109 retrospective nature 80–1, 166, 277, 279, see also aparchai and dekatai, general sources on, see primary sources general trends of offering 80–1, 147 n. 50, 148, 157–8, 165–6 from states, see dedications, public types of 18–19, 94 types of objects 94, 130, 158–61 a/eparche,see eparche; eparchesthai aparchesthai: and dekateuein 53–4 fluidity in usages 58 metaphorical uses 28 n. 2 in Homeric sacrifice 29–30 post-Homeric uses 33–5, 56 in Theophrastus 35–6, 58 see also archesthai; eparchesthai apargmata 39–42, 58, 94, 131, 132 n. 7, 152, 159, 259, see also argmata; epargmata epargmata 258–9, 260 Apatouria 256 Aphrodite:  in Athens, receives aparche 93, 161 n. 91 Cypris in Halicarnassus, receives aparche 143–4 in Histria, receives apargma 41, 159 Ourania in Athens, receives proteleia 255, 268, 272 Pandamos on Cos 251–2, 255, 259, 273 Pontia on Cos 251–2, 259, 268, 271, 273 Stratonikos in Smyrna 257 n. 34 Aphytis 206–7, 223 ἄποικοι, see colonies; colonists Apollo: Archegetes 285 Delios 102 n. 21, 254 n. 18, 272 Delphinios 55, 103 in Epidaurus 147 Page 3 of 26

Subject Index Phoibos 60–1, 186, 285 Ptoius at Acraiphia 246 Pythios 102 n. 21, 242–3, 244, 267 Apollo in Delphi: receives first offerings, see Apollo, first offerings to, in Delphi temple of 134–5, 171 n. 124, 189, 261–4, 270–1, see also temple rebuilding, Delphi oracle of, see Delphic oracle Apollo, first offerings to: in Athens 161 n. 91 in Athenian agricultural festivals 102–4, see also Pyanopsia, Thargelia on Calymnos 152 (p.360) in Cyrene 94, 131 n. 6, 161, 193 n. 58, 196 on Delos 205, 237–40 in Delphi 46, 48–9, 55 n. 112, 162, 176, 178, 179, 184–6, 190, 197, 240–3, see also Serpent Column in Didyma 53, 195–6, 223–5, 233–4, 236 from Gaudos 267 Roman decumae as 49, 132 n. 8, 201 a twentieth as 55 from Veii, difficulties in collecting 49, 201 apothuein 47 n. 82, 182 apotropaic 7, 87–8 see also evils, averting archesthai 29–30 argmata 30–2 Argos 193 n. 58 aristeia 178, 180, 200 arkteia 49–50 arkteuein 50 Artemis:  Astias, receives dekate 148 at Brauron and Mounichia 50 Ephesian, at Scillus185–6, 193, 257, 260, 270, 272, 273 receives first offerings of drink 122 Leucophryene 244–6 Oeneus’ neglected first offerings to 36, 83, 105 Artemisium 178 Asclepius:  on Cos, receives cult payments 252, 259, 273 and healing 147 n. 49, 161 receives first offerings 147 receives other offerings 63, 86 n. 102 Asine 282, 285 asylia decrees 243–7 Athena in Athens: Ergane 38, 73, 84, 138, 139, 150, 161 n. 91, 168, 169, see also Chalkeia Polias 73, 220 Hygieia? 136 n. 20 Itonia 261, 272 Organe, see Ergane Page 4 of 26

Subject Index Pallenis 257 n. 34 Promachos 182, 183 n. 26 receives aparchai 53, 54, 84, 136, 137, 138, 139, 142, 150, 161 receives aparche of tribute, see tribute from Athenian allies receives dekatai 55, 73, 86, 93, 110, 136, 138, 142, 150, 159 fig. 4, 160 fig. 5, 161, 192 receives dekate of fines, see fines, sacred see also colonies, sending first offerings, to Athens Athena, receives first offerings:  in Athens, see Athena in Athens in Megara 196 Nikephoros in Pergamon 196 Poleis in Phaselis 153 on Rhodes, see Athena on Rhodes Athena and pottery 169 Athena on Rhodes, receives first offerings:  Athena Lindia 54, 154, 161, 163, 196, 226–7 Athena (no epithet) at Lindos 226 Athena Patroia at Lindos 227 Athena Polias at Lindos 143 Athena Polias at Camirus 143 Athena at Ialysus: see Ialysus athletic victory 92, 142, 150, 153, 167 n. 109 Attica, preponderance of evidence from 23–4, 98, 131, 193 n. 58 Bacchus, receives first-fruits 109 banausoi, see dedicators, private, banausoi barley grains, in sacrifice 29, 32, 42, 43–4 Battus 226 belief, see rituals and belief belief, reinforced by offerings 90, 94 Bendis 270 n. 94, 272 Berenice II 230 Boeotia 90 n. 120, 181, 189, 253 n. 15 booty:  sale of 180–1, 185, 201 treatment of 178–81 value of 197 see also λεία; λείο booty division: among armies 179, 181, 197–202 dissension over 198–9, 201–2 in Homer 198 interstate agreements in treaties 199 n. 84 (p.361) between men and gods 177–81, 190, 199–201 principles of 199–200 soldiers’ share 200 and solidarity in armies 197–202 see also military first offerings Bottiaeans, Macedonian 282–3 brides, make pre-marriage offerings 255, 268 burning, see fire Page 5 of 26

Subject Index Carystus 178, 237, 263, 282 celestial elements 13 Chalcis 181, 189, 244 n. 147, 265 Chalcidians, tithed to Apollo 281–2, 285, 286–7 Chalkeia 169 χαριδώτης  128 χάρις 22–3, 60–8, 72, 277–9 commercial exchange, differences from 22–3, 61, 65–6, 277–9 continuous circulation of 60–1, 74–5, 191 reciprocity, differences from 66–7 see also reciprocity χαριστεῖον 79 χαριστήρια 78–80, 99, 166, 190, 191, 279, see also thank-offerings cheeses, offerings from 119–20, 256 Chios 154, 176 n. 3 χοή 121–2 χρήματα 36 n. 29, 72 n. 51, 144, 149–50, 162 n. 94, 180, 181, 264 chresmologoi 40–1 Christianizing assumptions 21–2, 23, 76 chthonian rituals 7, 121 n. 17 Chytroi 98 n. 3, 106–7 Cius 223–4, 233–4, 236 clerouchoi 211, 230 coins, gold 159 n. 87 colonies, send first offerings 203–28, 231–6 to Athens, voluntarily 219–21 economic significance of 233 cow and panoply to Athens 207, 219–21 debts to mother-city 234–5 to Miletus 223–5, 233–4, 236 to Rhodes 154, 225–8, 231, 233 symbolic significance of 233, 249 to Tyre 234–5 see also Eleusinian first-fruits; tribute from Athenian allies colonists: individuals send first offerings 155–7, see also colonies, send first offerings right of return 284, 286 expelled by natural disasters 281, 284, 285–6 colonization, see colonists; Delphic oracle and colonization; human first offerings Colophon 221, 282, 285 commemoration: of men’s achievements 82, 91–2, 139, 144, 150, 153, 187–9, 194 of gods’ deeds 93–4 communion 6, 7, 11, 16 competition 91–3 confiscated property, see fines, sacred Congress decree 217 contractors, pay taxes 256 convention, social 20–1, 89–91, 126, 275, 276 Corcyra 44 n. 64, 89, 114, 141 n. 37, 163, 176 n. 2, 284 Cos:  Page 6 of 26

Subject Index agricultural festival 73, 105–6 aparchai to Delos, see Delos, aparchai to, from Cos Asclepieia 244 n. 144, 245 n. 152 cults, see Asclepius, on Cos; Aphrodite, Pandamos; Aphrodite, Pontia sacrificial calendar 33–4 Croesus 46, 75, 200 dedications by 162 n. 94, 186 n. 36 Croton 55 n. 112, 176, 192 cult finance, see finance, sacred Cyrene: dekatai to Apollo 94, 131 n. 6, 161, 193 n. 58, 196 Cathartic Law 50–1 colonization of 284–5, 286, 287, 288 a Lindian colony? 226 Cyrus the Great 26, 46, 78–9, 83, 120–1, 190–1, 199, 200 Cyzicus 224, 233–4, 236 da ut dem 22, 62, 67, 81, 277–9 the dead, offerings to 34–5, 56, 64, 104 n. 31, 121 n. 17, 222 n. 66, 229 see also rituals, of mourning debts to gods 68–75, 86, 190–1, 194, 249, 278–9 economic debts, differences from 75 (p.362) occasional debts 74, 165–6, 190–1, 194, 202, 215 original debt 68–72, 74, 213–5, 234 in other religions 68, 70 see also obligations to gods Decelea 198 n. 78 decimate 49 decuma 132, 158 n. 85 dedications: anonymous 94–5 cost of 157, 171 n. 124, 173–4 n. 132, 181–5, 191 dedicatory formulae 24, 36, 47–8, 187 n. 39 repeated 20, 166–7, 189 votive, see votives; vows see also aparchai and dekatai; offerings (in general) dedications, private: dedicators’ social background 130, 133–49, 168–75 definition 131 types of objects 130, 158–61 see also dedicators, private dedicators, private 130–75 athletes 142, 150, 153 banausoi 170–1, 173, 174, see also craftsmen; craftswomen; fullers; potters; washerwomen; weavers colonists 155–7, 226 courtesan 144–5 craftsmen 133–8, 143, see also potters craftswomen 138–9, see also weavers everyone, potentially 175 farmers 110, 141, 143, 170 fish-carrier 147 fishermen 73–4, 141, 143, 172–3 Page 7 of 26

Subject Index fruit-seller 166 n. 105 fullers 141–2, see also κναφεύς goat-keeper 143, see also goatherds Hellenistic general/dynast? 148–9 hieropoios 143 merchants 143–4, 153–4, 163–4, 195 n. 67 military commanders 196 naval commanders 196 potters 133–8, 168–72, see also potter relief; potters; pottery at retirement, see aparchai and dekatai, retirement offerings sacrificial slaughterer 145–7 slaves, runaway 176 n. 3 slaves, freed 154–5, 255 soldiers 143, 194–7 travel to distant shrines, see dedicators in distant shrines treasurer 142 washerwomen 140–1, 172–3 weavers 143, 147–8, 158 n. 85 dedications, public: military, see military first offerings non-military 176 n. 2 dedicators in distant shrines 144–5, 154, 162–5 from Alexandria 162–3 from Amorgos 163 from Corcyra 163 from Crete 164 from Ephesus 163 from Malis 163–4 from Melitus 163 from Metapontum 162 from Mykonos 163 from Mylasa 163 from Paros 163 from Soloi 163 from Sybaris 154, 164 from Tenos 54, 162, 167 n. 107 see also dedicators, private, merchants; Rhodopis dekatan/m in Gallo-Greek 132 dekate:  differences from aparche: see aparche and dekate, differences and similiarities non-religious 47, 52, 267 religious applications 47–8, 177 dekateia 267 n. 74 dekatephoros 79, 167, 285 dekateuein 48–50, 53 dekateuesthai 50 dekaton 199 n. 84 dekatos 50–1 Delia, see Delos, aparchai to Delian League: Page 8 of 26

Subject Index aparchai to Delian Apollo? 205, 240 n. 131 treasury’s relocation 204–5 Delos, aparchai to 237–40 aitia for 237–8 annual Athenian mission, link with? 238 Athens’ role in myth 238 (p.363) Athens’ role in reality? 238 from Cos 239–40 Delia, link with? 238 and Eileithyia 237–8 form of 238 n. 122 from the Hyperboreans 237–9 from the Mapsichidians 239–40 phialai not termed aparchai 239–40 Pythaïs from Athens bringing? 239 religious significance of 248 Delphi, theoriai to, see Pythaïdes Delphi, Amphictiony 241 n. 137, 261–2 Delphic Apollo, see Apollo in Delphi Delphic oracle:  authenticity of 209 n. 19, 281 and battles 55 n. 112, 176, 178, 190, 192 n. 55 and colonization 19, 51 n. 100, 72, 281–8 and Eleusinian first-fruits 100, 209, 234 enhances authority 209, 234 and Leucophryeneia 244 and Proerosia 98–9, 209 n. 19 Demeter:  receives first-fruits 73, 75, 105–6, 161 n. 91 Karpophoros 72, 110, 215 Demeter and Kore: Athens’ assimilation to 215–6, 231–2 receive first-fruits 100, 207–19, 231–2, 234–5 see also Eleusinian first-fruits Demophantus 264 dependence, mutual 75, 84, 271 see also gods, dependence on men; gods, men’s dependence on deposition of offerings 31, 40, 117, 124 design, argument from 70–2 diagraphai 251–2, 254–6, 259, 270–1 Didyma: Apollo Didymeus, see Apollo, first offerings to, in Didyma Miletus’ control of 224, 235 oracle at 196 Didymeia 225 Dionysia, City 207, 220–1 Dionysus: and agriculture 114 Charidotes 128 festivals of, see Dionysia, City; Pithoigia Page 9 of 26

Subject Index Karpodotes 72 n. 49 receives cult payments 272 receives first offerings of wine 106–7, 269 in Teos 229 display 91–3 divine commands, see oracles, dedication on oracular instruction dodekate 211 Dodona 89, 114 domestic practices 107, 117–29 domestic religion 118 n. 4 do ut abeas 7 do ut des 7, 22, 62, 67, 81, 277–9 do quia dedisti 81, 278 δράγματα 106, 108–9 Drimakos 176–7 n. 3 drinking rituals 106–7, 121–3 in Homer 31 n. 9, 52, 121 n. 18 see also meal, offerings at; liquid offerings (outside meals) Dryopes 282, 285 Durkheim, Émile 9–10 economic exchange, see χάρις, commercial exchange, differences from Egypt: Egyptian cults on Delos, receive first offerings 54, 162–3 first offerings in 103, 117 n. 2, 259 n. 45 Pharaoh, obligations to 68 wine tax in 269 eikoste:  religious 55 non religious 207, 212–13 Eileithyia 237–8 eiresione 103, 104, 107 εἰσφέρειν 222 n. 64 εἰσφορά 267 ekecheiron 236 n. 154 Eleusinia 101 n. 17 Eleusis, Athens’ control of 235 Eleusinian first-fruits 100–1, 207–19 aitiai for 213–4 ancestral customs 209, 234 and aparchai of olive oil? 208 and the Delphic oracle 100, 209, 234 economic significance of 210–7, 233 and epistatai 208 n. 16, 218 n. 51 and food supply in Athens 216, 233 in the fourth century 211, 218–19 (p.364) and grain-tax law 211–12 and inscribed anathemata 210 occasion for sending 101 n. 17, 210 occasional debts 215 Page 10 of 26

Subject Index original debt 213–5 and Panhellenic leadership, claim to 217–18 the Panhellenion, imitated by 210 Polynesian first-fruits, parallels with 216–7 Proerosia, link with? 100–1, 209, 234 sacrifice from 100, 210 sale of 211 siroi for 210, 212 symbolic significance of 209, 233, 249 theoria bringing? 210 and Triptolemus 100, 213–4, 216, 234 see also Demeter and Kore, Athens’ assimilation to Eleusinian first-fruits decree 207–19 disputed date 208–9 and Lampon 208–9 contents of 208 arrangements for grain 210–11 Eleusinian Mysteries 101 n. 17 ἐλευθέρια 79 empire, Athenian 204–21, 231–5 enthumistos 252, 270 Enyalios 268 eparche 51–2, 243 n. 143, 247, 250–64, 266–73 eparchesthai 51–2, 250–64, 266–73 in Homer 31 n. 9, 52, 121 n. 8 ἔργον 139, 144, 145, 148, 150, 152 ἐργάζεσθαι 152 ἐπιδέκατον 264–5 ἐπικέφαλος ὀβολός 261–2 epigrams 25, 61, 108–9, 139 n. 33, 141 n. 37, 143, 147–8, 167 n. 109 Epidaurus 93, 132, 143, 147 eponymous heroes, Athens 184 Eretria 72, 265 n. 68, 272, 284, 286 εὐαγγέλια 79, 166 εὐχαριστήρια 79, 279 Eurymedon 185 evils, averting 85–9 ἐξαιρεῖν 178, 179, 180, 200 ἑξηκοστή 268 farmers: few in sources 110, 170 bring first offerings 107–11, 141, 143, 187 see also agriculture; dedicators, private, farmers farming, see agriculture fear 85–6, 88–9, 114, 276, 279 finance, public 47, 267 finance, sacred 19, 3,. 47, 51–2, 250–73 cult fees 250–4 cult taxes 254–9 Page 11 of 26

Subject Index cult fees and taxes, uses of 259–61, 270–1 enforcement of payment 257, 269–70 fines on infringement 270 from sacred fines, see fines, sacred from sacred land lease 193, 257–9 fines, sacred 264–6 fire, burning first offerings in 29–30, 31, 32, 118, 120, 123–4, 125 n. 32 first-fruits: in Africa 9, 10, 12–13 in Chinese culture 90 n. 120 in Christianity 2 n. 2 economic values of 10, 11–12, 210–7, 223 n. 71, 233 in Egypt, see Egypt, first offerings in English term, problems of 4, 18 in non-Greek cultures 5–14 in Polynesia 11–12, 216–7 in Semitic culture 5–6 first offerings, see aparchai and dekatai fishing:  first offerings from 46, 73–4, 141, 143, 147, 172–3, 176 n. 2 cult taxes on fishermen 254 Firth, Raymond 11 food offerings: at banquets 120, 121 n. 18, 122 kinds of 117 see also meals, offerings at food supply, problems of 216 Frazer, James 6–7, 8–9, 75 influence of 8, 14, 15–16 Gaul, see dekatan/m γεωργοί, see farmers Gephyraioi 283 gift-giving: (p.365) anthropological studies of, see anthropology among men 63–5, 278 in the Hebrew Bible 66 n. 28 and social bonds 64–5 gifts to gods, see aparchai and dekatai; offerings Gluckman, Max 9–10, 11, 199–200 goatherds 18, 143, 256–8 Godelier, Maurice 68, 74–5, 165–6, 213, 215 gods: all gods and goddesses as recipients of gifts 162 arete of 93–4, 147 n. 50 in comedy 26, 61, 84 communication with 16, 90, 125, 280 choice of divine recipients 161–2, 268 dependence of men on 96, 113–14, 128, 169–70, 190–1, 249, 271, 275, 279, 280, see also debts to gods; obligations to gods dependence on men 7, 61, 84, 271, see also dependence, mutual Page 12 of 26

Subject Index as givers of good things 71–2, 286 honour of, see honour of the gods images of 39, 106, 109, 126 men, differences from 65–6, 278–9 men, resemblance to 62–4, 84, see also anthropomorphism men’s obligations to, see obligations to gods pervasive influence of 88 priority of, see priority of the gods respond to gifts 63–4 not respond to gifts 65–6 in philosophy 65, 70–1, 86 unpredictability of 65–6, 85–6 in tragedy 26, 65–6, 85–6, 87 unknowability of 88 wrath of 83–4, 87, 285 Gortyn 267 grain law, Samos 212–13 grain, public measures of 211–13 grain-tax law, Athens 211–12 gratitude 22–3, 75–82, 280 absent in Greek religion? 14, 16, 23, 75–6 different cultures’ expressions of 77–8 Greek expressions of 78–80 mixed with other motivations 81–2, 95 see also thank-offerings Greeks, as desperately alien 76 Hadrian 215 hair: of sacrificial animals 29, 32, 33 n. 16, 56 of human beings 34–5, 42–3, 44, 56, 281 n. 2 Harrison, Jane E. 7–8, 9, 98 n. 3 influence of 14, 15–16 harvest festivals, see agriculture; Pyanopsia; Thalusia; Thargelia healing: fees payable for 253–4 dekate for? 147 n. 50 hearth, household 123 Helios 78–9 helots 179, 201 Hellenistic monarchs 228–31, 232–3, 275 offerings by 148–9 offerings to 228–30 offerings hyper 230 Hera: grain purchase from, on Samos 212–3 receives first offerings 145–7, 154, 155–7, 193 n. 58 Heracles: and Asine 282 presents first offerings 37, 46 receives first offerings 226 Page 13 of 26

Subject Index Hercules, receives decumae, see decuma Hermes: Chthonios 98 n. 3 Enagonios 256, 273 Ktenites 268, 271 receives first offerings 18, 109 n. 48, 256, 273 receives sacrificial offering 31 Hermione 282 hiera, offerings termed 1, 167 hieroi, human beings as 282, 283, 287 n. 26 Hippomedon 230 honour of the gods 83–4 Hubert, Henri, and Mauss, Marcel 8, 9, 251 n. 3 human first offerings:  in Euripides 45, 287 in historical times? 193–4 n. 62, 285 (p.366) in colonization traditions 281–8 strangeness of 286–7 human sacrifice: see sacrifice, human sacrifice Humphrey, Caroline 91 hunting, first offerings from 36 n. 29, 46, 81 hygieia 136 Hyperboreans, see Delos, aparchai to Ialysus, inscribed vessels from 41, 94, 132 n. 7 Iasos: sends phialai to Didyma 225 offers first-fruits to Laodice III 229–30 theoria bringing aparche to Samothrace 236 n. 115 isotheoi timai 229–30 ἰατρεῖα 79 individuals: roles of 20–1, 91, 130–1, 275–6 see also dedications, private; dedicators, private; polis religion, individuals in Ionians: Athens as mother-city of 220–1 Isthmus 178, 179 Ithaca 257–8, 273 καλάμαι 108, 111 Kafizin 78–9, 167 Karpodotes 72 Karpodoteira 72 Karpophoros, see Demeter kata dunamin 63, 125 katarche 43–4 n. 62 katarchesthai 32, 42–5 absolute uses 42, 44–5 not in dedications 58 in drinking rituals 106–7, 121 n. 18 in Homer 32 Page 14 of 26

Subject Index post-Homeric uses 34, 42–5 katargmata 43 n. 62, 104 katathuein 258, 272, 273 κεραμεύς, see dedicators, private, potters; potters; pottery kinship 156 n. 77, 220–1 κναφεύς 141–2,173 n. 131 knucklebones 195–6 Kore, passage between the two worlds 97 n. 1 koureia 18, 256–7, 260 κτέανον 139, 149 Laidlaw, James 91 land-holders: see sacred land Laodice III 229–30 λεία 195, 196, 200 n. 88, 226, 282 λείο 195 Lesbos 193 Leucippus 283 libations 31 n. 11, 42, 52 n. 104, 107, 109, 112, 120, 121–2, 124, 125, 126, 128, 269, see also χοή; λοιβή; σπονδή; σπένδειν; liquid offerings (outside meals) Lindian acropolis: historical first offerings 54 n. 110, 132 n. 7, 143, 193 n. 58, 196 offerings in the Lindian Chonicle, see Lindian colonies Lindian colonies, alleged 154, 225–8, 231, 233 Acragas 227–8 Cyrene 226 Gela 227 Soloi 226–7 Sybaris 154 Lindian Chronicle: first offerings recorded in 54, 143, 154, 158, 161, 163, 193 n. 58, 225–8, 248–9 first offerings from colonies: see Lindian colonies problems of historicity 24–5, 225–6, 228 liquid offerings (outside meals) 69, 121 Locri 55 n. 112, 176, 192 λοιβή 121–2 magic 5, 15–16 Magnesia on the Maeander 243–6, 283 mana 8 manumission 151, 154–5, 255, see also slaves, freed Marathon 46, 180 n. 15, 182–5 Marathon Tetrapolis 241 n. 136 Mauss, Marcel 64–5 mageiroi 124 n. 30 Magnesia on the Maeander 283, 286 (p.367) Maximus of Tyre 187–8 meals, offerings at 57, 117–29 factors affecting 121–3 food offerings 117–21, 122 liquid offerings 121–3; see also libations; liquid offerings (outside meals) Page 15 of 26

Subject Index ‘make holy’ the food 126–8 modes of 123–4 regularities of 123–5, 129 and sacrificial offerings, ambiguities between 32, 119 medisim 48–9, 189 Megabyxus 185–6 mentalities, religious 22, 27, 59–96, 276–80 merchants, see dedicators, private, merchants; seafaring Messenia 188–9, 281 Metapontines, as dedicators 162, 176 n. 2 Methone 206–7, 223, 284 Miletus 223–5, 233–4, 235, 236 military first offerings 143 n. 42, 176–202, 226–7, 282, 285, 287 additional first offerings by soldiers 194 additional offerings to 180 akrothinion 177–80, 183–4, 190, 194 n. 63, 196, 197 aparchai, rarely termed 36, 52, 177 n. 5, 190, 196 animal sacrifice as 182 n. 25, 193 n. 62 arms and armour 178, 187–8, 193 n. 62, 194 ban on dedicating arms 188 booty, see booty; booty division; λεία; λείο competitions, interstate 187–9 and debts to gods 190–1, 194, 202 and dedicators 185–7 dedicatory formulae 187 and display 187–9 human captives in historical times? 193–4 n. 62, 285 human captives in myths 44, 282, 287 by individual soldiers 143, 194–7 different kinds of 177, 193 as mnemonic devices 189, 193 moral reflections on 187–8 and oracles, see Delphic oracle, and battles, see also oracles penal tithing 48–9 from the Persian Wars 48–9, 177–81, 182–5 placement of 188–9, 192–3 rededication of 189 religious significance of 190–2 express rivalry 187–9 primary sources on 177 exceed profits of war 184–5 psychology of armies 191 quasi-obligatory nature 192, 202 raw and converted 178, 180–1 sacred land as 186, 193 sacred revenue generated by 193 ships as 178, 180, 196 ships’ parts as 178 social functions of 11, 197–202 Page 16 of 26

Subject Index spatial politics 188–9 from states 176–93 temene in conquered territories as 193 terminology of 177 as thank-offerings 190–1 triremes as 178, 180 enormous value of 181–5, 197, 202 and vows, see military vows no written law on 192 military vows 176, 178, 191, 192, 194, 196 n. 71, 201, 282 monetary first offerings: gold coins 159 n. 87 aparche of allied tribute 204–7, 233 aparchai to Delphi 242–3 aparchai to new Panhellenic festivals 243–7 a/eparchai in cult finance 250–64, 266–73 Mother of the Gods 258, 272 Mycale, Mount 18, 256–7, 260, 272 naopoioi 261–2 Naupactus 188–9 Neapolis 176 n. 2, 206–7 n. 10 Nemesis, receives first offerings 161 n. 91 neokoros 253, 270 Nicias, Peace of 208–9 νικητήρια 79 Nilsson, Martin P. 15–16 a ninth 55 n. 112, 176, 192 Nymphs:  Karpodoteirai 72 n. 49 (p.368) receives sacrificial offering 31 receives tithes at Kafizin, see Kafizin νυμφόληπτος 167 obligations to gods 68–75, 190–1 occupations: dedicators’ sense of identity with 174–5 identifiable at Athens 170 problem of the English term 133 n. 9 not for upper classes 142 offerings (in general): made in dangers 87, 158 n. 84, 201, 285 n. 21, 288 meagreness of 57, 61–2, 122 modes of making 17, 117, 123–4, 161, see also deposition of offerings names of 1, 79, 167, see also agalma, charisteria, eucharisteria, hiera, koureia, thank-offerings neglected 70, 83–4, 86, 120, 122, 235 n. 110 new and used 161 placement of 4, 92, 161–6, see also sanctuaries raw and converted 4, 18–19, 110–11, 160–1, 178, 180–1 rawness, different degrees of 111 Page 17 of 26

Subject Index types of 1–2, 4, 79, 117 value, not important 23, 63, 67, 84, 271, see also kata dunamin sacrificial, see sacrifice thank-offerings, see thank-offerings Oeneus 36, 83, 105 office-holders, pay taxes 255–6, 261, 268–9 oikonomoi 259 n. 45 Olbia 55, 251, 273 olive oil 208, 266 n. 70 olive trees 265–6 Olympia:  first offerings in 141 n. 37, 162, 168, 176 n. 2, 177 n. 4, 179, 188, 193 n. 62, 194 n. 63 see also sanctuaries, Panhellenic; Panhellenic festivals, traditional, first offerings to; Zeus in Olympia Olympian rituals 7 oracle-mongers, see chresmologoi oracles: as communication 280 cult payments for consulting 267 n. 77 dedications on oracular instruction 1 n. 1, 178, 192 n. 55 of Trophonius 246 see also Delphic oracle; Didyma; Dodona Oropus 253–4, 270, 272 ὅσιος 46, 56, 61 n. 7, 93, 144 ὁσιότης 61 Osiris 54, 162 Panathenaea, Great 207, 217, 220–1 Panathenaea, Little 258 Panathenaia oil 266 n. 70 Panhellenic festivals, new, first offerings to 176 n. 2, 243–7 the Asclepieia at Cos 244 n. 144, 245 n. 152 at Delphi 244 n. 144 the Hyacinthotrophia at Cnidus 244 n. 144 the Leucophryeneia at Magnesia 244–6 not obligatory 246 traditional Panhellenic games, imitation of 247 in ‘peer polity’ interactions 248–9 the Ptoia at Acraiphia 244 n. 144, 245 n. 152, 246 at Samothrace 244 n. 144 sums of 245 use of 245 Panhellenic festivals, traditional, first offerings to 247 παγκραπία 104 n. 31 πανσπερμία: in the Anthesteria 98 n. 3 in the Pyanopsia 104 in other religious contexts 104 n. 31 πάντα δέκα 179 n. 13 Paros:  private dedicator from 163 Page 18 of 26

Subject Index sends offerings to Athens 221 pastoralists: see dedicators, private, goat-keeper; goatherds; shepherds; Mycale, Mount Patara 37–8, 40 n. 49, 252, 260, 273 Pausanias, Spartan king 179, 186–7, 201 Pedasa 163–4 πελανός 267, 269 pentekoste 55, 192, 211, 258 Penteskouphia plaques 169 (p.369) Pergamum 190, 193 n. 58, 196 Perinthus 155–7 Phaselis 153 Phidias 182, 184 phialai: to Delos from Cos 239–40 to Delos from the Mapsichidians 239–40 to Delos, not termed aparchai 239–40 to Didyma from Cius 223–4, 233–4, 236 to Didyma from Cyzicus 224, 233–4, 236 to Didyma from Iasos 225 n. 76 to Didyma from Naucratis 224, 225 n. 75 to Didyma from Sinope 225 to Didyma from non-Milesian colonies 225 to Didyma, not for Apollo 225 n. 78 economic value of 223 n. 71, 233 to Lindos from Soloi 226 and manumission 151 as private dedications 54, 155, 158 n. 86 Phocaea 193 n. 58 Piraeus 100 n. 10, 254, 270, 272, 273 φόρος 204–7, 222, 267, see also tribute from Athenian allies Pithoigia 106–7, 111–2 Plataea:  first offerings from 179–80 186–7, 189, 191, 199, 200 nn. 85–6, 201 oath of 48 n. 87 Ploutodoteira 72 Ploutodotes 72 Ploutos 152, 213 n. 39, 215 πλύντρια 140–1, 173 πλυντρίς 173 n. 130 Plutarch’s religiosity 127 polis religion 130 individuals in 14, 20–1, 130–1, 275–6 pollution 51, 284, 288 πόνος 150 Poseidon:  and agriculture 128 Karpodotes 72 n. 49 receives first offerings 178, 179 sanctuary at Penteskouphia 169 Page 19 of 26

Subject Index and the sea 73–4, 93, 141 Potidaea, Athenian colonists to 226 n. 81 potter relief 137 potters: prominence on Athenian acropolis 133–8, 168–72 class consciousness? 172 n. 122 pottery: divine protection of 169–70 and democracy 170–1 social status of 171–2 pre-marriage offerings 255, 267, 268, 272 Priene:  colonial ties with Athens 220–1 refoundation of 220 n. 59 voluntary aparchai to Athens 219–21 priests: duties of 43, 44, 251 prerogatives of 37–8, 40–1, 44 n. 62, 252–3, 259–60, 271 priesthood, sales of 251–2, 259, 271, see also diagraphai ‘primitive’ cultures 5, 7, 8–9, 14, 15, 75–6 priority of the gods 19–20, 26, 52, 64, 83–4, 87, 249 private dedications, see dedications, private; dedicators, private Proerosia 98–102 aitiai for 98–9 link with aparchai 98–100, 101 date, moveable? 98 n. 5 Eleusinian celebration of 98, 100–1 Eleusinian first-fruits, link with? 100–1 pre-ploughing barley 100 pre-ploughing sacrifice 98–100 prokatarchesthai 44 n. 64 Prometheus 57 προτέλεια 255, 267, 272 Ptolemy III 230 public dedications, see dedications, public public and private in Greek religion 14, 130–1, 276 Pyanopsia 103–5, 107 aitia for 103–4 Apollo Delphinios as god of? 103 see also eiresione Pythaïdes:  to Delos? 239 to Delphi 240–3 political impetus for 241 n. 137 (p.370) frequency of 240–1 religious significance of 248 Pythaïsts 240 ransom of captives 181, 182 n. 21 reciprocity 60–8 between men 63–5, 70, 72–3, 278 Page 20 of 26

Subject Index between Greek cities 64 n. 18 between men and gods 22–3, 60–8, 70, 277–9 see also anthropology, studies of gift-giving; χάρις religion, Greek: Christianizing assumptions 21–2, 76 doctrines, lack of 1, 21, 59, 89–90 ‘practical religion’ 62 Rhegium 281–2, 285, 286, 288 Rhodes: first offerings on 132 n. 7 see also Athena on Rhodes; Ialysus; Lindian acropolis; Lindian colonies; Lindian Chronicle Rhodopis 144–5, 165 rituals: and belief 3, 21–2, 59–60, 62, 91, 93–4 low intensity and high intensity 59 n. 2 alimentary 118 n. 4, see also food offerings; meals, offerings at expulsion of scapegoats 102 n. 22, 286, 288 in military contexts 190 of mourning 34, 35 n. 23, 56 of maturation 34, see also arkteia of purification 51, 102 n. 22, 127 n. 40, 288 of rebellion 10 and social solidarity 9–11, 12, 115–16, 197–201 Robertson Smith, William 5–6 roof tile 41, 159 Sabina 215–6 sacred finance, see finance, sacred sacred land: lease of 39, 193, 257–9 as first offerings 186, 193 sacrifice 8, 19, 29–32, 33–6, 37, 39–41, 42–5, 55–8, 118–19, 250–3 animals, price of 252 n. 10 animal sacrifice, against 36, 69, 117 basket 44 dedications, relations to 55–8, 127–8 of desacralization 8, 112–13 entrails, see sacrifice, splanchna fees payable for 250–3 flesh, sacrificial, as first offerings 30–2, 37–8, 39–41, 44, 252–3 gods’ share 38, 56–7, 117, 118–19, 127–8, see also aparchesthai; apargmata; argmata; meals, offerings at hair, see hair, of sacrificial animals Homeric 29–32, 118–19 human sacrifice 35, 43, 46–7, 69 oath sacrifice 29–30 n. 5 omothetein 30 origins of 68–9 pre-battle sacrifice 1 n. 1, 120

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Subject Index pre-killing rites, see aparchesthai; katarche; katarchesthai; katargmata; barley grains; hair; water, lustral preliminary offerings 29–32,33–4, 39–45, 56–7 priestly portion, see priests, prerogatives of of sacralization 8, 127 sacrifiants 251–2, 259 sacrificateurs 251 n. 3 Scythian 33, 42. in Semitic culture 5–6 splanchna 33–4, 40–1, 58 n. 117 thigh bones 30 n. 7, 57, 125 trapezomata 31–2, 39, 40, 57 n. 117, 124 see also thuein; thusia Salamis 178–9, 180, 190, 191, 200 n. 86 Salamis (in Cyprus) sends offerings 225 Samos, first offerings on 154, 155–7 Samothrace  aparchai to the Great gods 230 unidentified festival at 244 n. 144 Samothracian Mysteries 236 n. 115 Thasian theoroi to? 236 sanctuaries:  local 161–2, 192–3, 237 Panhellenic 92, 162–5, 177, 192, 237, see also Delphi; Olympia sacredness, degrees of 237 as centres of theoric networks 235–6 see also dedicators in distant shrines Satyrs, receive first-fruits 109 (p.371) scapegoats, see Thargelia; rituals, expulsion of scapegoats seafaring: first offerings from 143–4, 153–4 and cult taxes 254–5 Selinus 39, 191–2, 221–2 Semites 5–6 Serpent Column 179, 186–7, 190 n. 51 shearing offering, see koureia shepherds 18, 256–7, 272 slaves, first offerings from 176 n. 3 slaves, freed: first offerings from 154–5 taxes on 151, 255 Socrates, trial of 86 n. 102, 123 n. 24, 238 σῶστρα 79 σωτήρια 79, 191 Sounion 178 sources, primary: archaeological 24 literary 25–6 epigraphical 23–5 Sparta 188–9, 198 spoils see booty; booty division; λεία; λείο Page 22 of 26

Subject Index σπονδή 121–2, 269 σπένδειν 52 n. 104, 125 Sybaris 145–7, 153, 154, 164 συγγένεια, see kinship Synoikia 101 n. 17 σύνταξις 267 Syracuse: aparche from barbarians 221–3, 233 phoros from the Sicels 222 tables, cult 39, 90 n. 118, 117, 126, 152 tables, household 31, 124 table offerings, see also sacrifice, trapezomata taboo: in African armies 12 artificially created 217 on consumption of goods? 166, 199 on drinking? 112, see also Pithoigia on eating? 6–8, 11, 14, 16, 56, 111–3, 126 in other cultures 7, 14, 56, 112 n. 58, 217 Teiresias 282, 285 τέχνη 138, 150 τελεστήρια 78, 79 τέλος 267 temple building, Delphi 189, 261–4, 269, 270–1 state contributions for 261–2 individuals’ donations 263–4 Tanagra 188, 283, 287 Tenos 54, 162, 167 n. 107, 192 n. 55, 221, 237 Teos 228–30 Thalusia 73, 105–6, 107 thank-offerings 75–82, 166, 279–80 not in Greek religion? 9, 14, 16 in Greek religion 22–3, 78–81, 279–80 see also χαριστήρια; ἐλευθέρια; εὐαγγέλια; ἰατρεῖα; θρεπτήριον; νικητήρια; σῶστρα; σωτήρια; τελεστήρια thanks,see gratitude Thargelia 102–3, 104, 107 Apollo Delios as god of? 102 n. 21 Apollo Pythios as god of? 102 n. 21 link to eiresione? 103 expulsion of scapegoats 102 n. 22, 288 thargelos 102–3 thargelos, consumption of 103 Thasos, great list of theoroi, see theoroi, Thasian Theagenes 252, 270, 273 Thebes:  claim to Apollo’s dekate? 198 first offerings from 47, 60 relations with Athens 49, 189 relations with Sparta 198 Page 23 of 26

Subject Index Theodorus, Athenian actor 263 Theophrastus 35–6, 58, 68–70, 82 Characters 57, 122 theoria private individuals, see dedicators in distant shrines state theoroi 203–49, see also colonies sending first offerings; Delos, aparchai to; Pythaïdes; Panhellenic festivals, new; Panhellenic festivals, traditional theoric network 235–6, 248 theorodokoi 243 theoroi, Thasian 236 theoxenia 39, 117, 126 (p.372) Thera 79 n. 75, 258, 260, 272, 284–5, 286–7 Thermopylae 48, 178 θέρος 176 n. 2 thesauros (offering box): for collecting coined fees 251–2, 253–6, 259–61 ritualized function of 250 n. 1, 271 n. 96 thesauros (store house):  of Athens in Delphi 46, 183–4, 186, 240 of Siphnos in Delphi 176 n. 2 functions of 186 n. 33 Theseus 104, 238 thiasos 150–1 Thibron 198 θρεπτήριον 79 thuein 35, 37, 39, 58, 118, 120, 251 n. 3, see also sacrifice; apothuein; katathuein thuelai 118–19 θύοντες, τοὶ: see sacrifice, sacrifiants; sacrifice, sacrificateurs thuos 125 thusia 105, 245 difference from other offerings 57, 118, 127–8 tithes: in Greek religion, see dekate in other cultures 2 n. 2, 5 n. 12, 16 totem 6 tradition, see convention, social, see also ancestral custom traitors, treatments of 48 treasury:  of Athena at Athens 211, 233, 264 borrowing from sacred treasuries 211, 222, 233 of the Delian League on Delos 204–5 public treasury at Athens 266 tribute from Athenian allies 204–7, 224, 231 n. 97 Apollo’s portion? 205, 240 n. 131 Athena’s portion 204–7 Athenian Tribute Lists 204–5 economic value of 233 phoros and aparche, distinction between 205–6, 231 remission of 206–7, 223 Page 24 of 26

Subject Index symbolic value of 206–7, 233 termination of 207 Triptolemus 99, 100, 213–4, 216, 234 Twice Seven 238, 282, see also Theseus Tylor, Edward B. 7 n. 18, 14, n. 33, 76 n. 62 vegetation spirit 6, 15, see also Frazer, James Veii 49, 201 ver sacrum 287–8 victories, first offerings from: athletic 142, 150, 153 military 176–97 legal? 151–2 victory monuments: see military first offerings vine-growing 61, 109, 269 votives: votive formulae 3, 24 ‘votive religion’? 3–4 votive offerings in scholarship 9, 15, 16 vows 3–4, 73, 86, 152, 153, 157–8, 238, 243, 282, 283, 285, 287, 288 fulfilment by another 3, 86, 152, 157 see also military vows water, lustral 29, 32, 42, 43–4 wealth 149–50, 152 weaving, see dedicator, private, weavers wreath (honorific) 150–1, 153 wine: first offerings from 106–7, 109, 122 first offerings in Egypt from 269 see also vine-growing xenia 64, 126, 247 Xenophon:  cult establishment at Scillus 185–6, 193, 257–8, 270, see also Artemis, Ephesian, at Scillus religious dimensions of 26, 70–1, 83, 84, 86, 87–8, 102, 113, see also Agesilaus; Cyrus the Great Zeus:  and rain 128 receives charisteria 82, 128 receives first offerings 46, 47, 54, 143, 168, 179, 182, 188–9, 200 receives libation 121 receives sacrifices from Hector 38 (p.373) receives a tenth of confiscated property 265 receives telesteria 78 receives victory offering from Selinus  scales of 85 n. 96 two urns of 85 Zeus, titles of: great 54 Homoloios 47 Karpodotes 72 n. 49 Labraundos 37, 252 Page 25 of 26

Subject Index Meilichios 39 Naios 89, 114 Olympios 188 Patroos 46, 78 Phratrios 266 n. 71 Soter 121, 151, 254 n. 18, 272 Zeus, oracles of:  Naios at Dodona, see Dodona in Olympia 99 n. 8

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