Studies in the Reception of Pindar in Ptolemaic Poetry 9783110651867, 9783110641400

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Alexandros Kampakoglou Studies in the Reception of Pindar in Ptolemaic Poetry

Trends in Classics – Supplementary Volumes

Edited by Franco Montanari and Antonios Rengakos Associate Editors Stavros Frangoulidis · Fausto Montana · Lara Pagani Serena Perrone · Evina Sistakou · Christos Tsagalis Scientific Committee Alberto Bernabé · Margarethe Billerbeck Claude Calame · Jonas Grethlein · Philip R. Hardie Stephen J. Harrison · Richard Hunter · Christina Kraus Giuseppe Mastromarco · Gregory Nagy Theodore D. Papanghelis · Giusto Picone Tim Whitmarsh · Bernhard Zimmermann

Volume 76

Alexandros Kampakoglou

Studies in the Reception of Pindar in Ptolemaic Poetry

ISBN 978-3-11-064140-0 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-065186-7 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-064874-4 ISSN 1868-4785 Library of Congress Control Number: 2019936537 Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2019 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Editorial Office: Alessia Ferreccio and Katerina Zianna Logo: Christopher Schneider, Laufen Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck www.degruyter.com

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Για τη μητέρα μου τί φίλτερον κεδνῶν τοκέων ἀγαθοῖς; – Pindar

Contents Acknowledgments  XI Conventions and Abbreviations  XIII Introduction: Reception as a Cultural Phenomenon and Textual Process  1 Allusion and the Pleasure of Reading  2 The Limits of Interpretation  7 Pindar’s Reception in Ptolemaic Poetry: Criteria and Tools  8

Part I: Epinician Poetry and Discourse Chapter 1. Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies  19 Introduction  19 Epinician κῶμοι: from Pindar to Callimachus (fr. 384.1–16 Pf.)  22 An Epinician for a Queen: the Sexual Politics of Praise  34 The myth of the Victoria Berenices  44 Callimachean Reconfiguration of Epinician Motifs  51 Callimachus and Tradition  51 Games and True Excellence (fr. 384.13–15 Pf.)  55 The Limits of the Victor’s Fame  58 The Value of Victory  61 χάρις  63 Divine Support  66 Envy  68 Conclusion: The Poet’s Voice 70 Chapter 2. The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88)  73 Introduction  73 A Double Tradition: Agonistic Epigrams and Epinician Odes  75 δαπάνη in Pindar and Posidippus  76 Pindaric Myths and Posidippus’s Figures of the Past  77 Descriptions of Races  86 Inherent Excellence (φυά) in Pindar and Posidippus  88 Textuality vs. Μonumentality in Pindar and Posidippus  92 μνῆμα  93

VIII  Contents ἄγκειμαι ~ ἀναθέμεν  94 Conclusion  98 Chapter 3. Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica: Heroic Foils and the Poetics of Immortality   100 Introduction  100 The Argonautic Expedition as a Metaphor for Athletic Victory  103 Catalogue of Argonauts  109 Divine Foils and Epinician Echoes: Aeëtes  111 The Poetics of Jason’s Victory  120 Heracles: Epinician Excellence and the Heroics of Individuality  125 The Dioscuri  135 Conclusion  155

Part II: Encomia and Hymns Chapter 4. Pindaric Eschatology and Inherent Excellence in Theocritus’s Idyll 17  159 Introduction  159 Of gods, heroes, and … men  160 In the Company of Heroes: Theron’s Prospects in the Afterlife  168 εὐεργεσία as Prerequisite for Deification  170 The Ptolemaic King as Benefactor  175 Ptolemy II as Benefactor in Idyll 17  176 Conclusion  180 Chapter 5. The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24  182 Introduction: the Myth in Pre-Hellenistic Poetry  182 The Two Pindaric Versions  184 The Theocritean Version  193 The Catalogue of Heracles’s Educators  195 Achilles’s Training in Nemean 3: Innate Excellence vs. τέχνη  202 The End of Idyll 24  205 Divine Marriages in Pindar and Theocritus  209

Contents  IX

Chapter 6. Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus  212 Introduction  212 Pindar’s First Hymn in its Connection to Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus  218 Pindaric and Callimachean Metapoetics  228 Cosmic Battles and Political Praise  239 Conclusion  246 Chapter 7.Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo  248 Introduction  248 Awaiting the Arrival of the God: Music and its Cosmic Effects  251 Aspects of Apollo’s Godhood  261 The King  270 The First Carneia: Reliving the Past  279 Cyrene and Apollo  286 The Epilogue  291 Conclusion  297 Chapter 8. Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos  299 Introduction  299 θεὸς ἄλλος: Delos and Ptolemaic Praise  307 Transitional Passages: Procession as Performative Metaphor  309 Weaving the Narrative: Tradition and Innovation  314 Pindaric Delos  326 The Main Mythological Narrative  335 Conclusion: The Birth of Apollo  345

Part III: Myth and Poetry Chapter 9. The Poetics of Experimentation: Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth  351 Introduction  351 Double Proems and Generic Hybridization  354 Colonial Discourse  364 Gender Poetics in Pindar and Apollonius  367

X  Contents The Mythological Narrative  374 From Iolcus to Lemnos  378 Jason and Pelops: Parallel Lives  398 Conclusion  402 Afterword  403 Works Cited  413 Index of Greek Words  441 Index of Passages Discussed  443 Index of Subjects  447

Acknowledgements The idea for the present book goes back to the doctoral dissertation I submitted to the Faculty of Classics of the University of Oxford in 2011. Chapters 1, 2, 4, and 5 draw on material included in that work in a different form. The remainder of this book was written during intervals from teaching in the academic years 2015– 2018. I have tried to cover the main publications until July of 2018. I regret that I have not been able to consult anything published after that date. This book has been in long gestation, and I am grateful for the help and support that I have received from so many people on the way to completing it. First of all, I would like to thank my former supervisor Gregory Hutchinson for his kind and generous support during my doctorate years and ever since. In every regard, Gregory has set a model of scholarly excellence that I have tried to emulate to the degree that I can. I would have never decided to work on Callimachus had it not have been for the late Adrian Hollis, my tutor and supervisor at Keble College in 2006–2007. I will always cherish the memories of our Hellenistic tutorials and discussions. Trinity College, Oxford has been a vibrant and welcoming home for the past five years. I would like to thank my Classics colleagues and students for creating an academically stimulating environment. In particular, I am grateful to Gail Trimble and Valerie Worth for their trust and encouragement. Tristan Franklinos, also of Trinity, found time in a very busy summer to offer judicious criticism and comments. Other friends took an interest in my project and encouraged me to continue. I would like to thank, in particular, Maroula Salemenou, Christine Ellis, Silvia Spodaru, and Elisa Spoladore. Ana Navajas Jiménez, a dear friend and colleague, shared liberally her knowledge of matters Egyptian and helped me understand aspects of Egyptian kingship. Theokritos Kouremenos and Poulheria Kyriakou have been a source of inspiration and model of scholarly integrity since my undergraduate years. I thank them for their friendship and guidance. Lisa George offered valuable help with the correction of the proofs. I should also like to thank the series editors, Professors A. Rengakos and F. Montanari, for accepting this book in the series, as well as the anonymous reader for their invaluable comments and corrections. The research for this monograph was carried out in Oxford thanks to the services of the Sackler and Bodleian Libraries. I wish to thank the staff of both these institutions for their patient help with enquiries, interlibrary loans, and acquisition of new books. The support of my family has made it possible for me to pursue my dreams and ambitions unperturbed. Marios and Christina have often shown me the way ahead. Words cannot express my gratitude to J.L. for putting up with endless classics discussions, for patiently vetting drafts and papers, for giving me courage https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-203

XII  Acknowledgements when I lost faith, for being there all the way, for making this book happen. My dissertation was dedicated to my mother for all her love and encouragement. The intervening years have given me the opportunity to feel more keenly the truth of these words. It is to her that I also dedicate the book. A. Kampakoglou Trinity College, Oxford October 2018

Conventions and Abbreviations Apart from a few exceptions, authors and works are abbreviated following the practice of the Oxford Classical Dictionary, and journals according to that of the L’Année philologique. Abbreviations of papyri can be found in J.F. Oates/W.H. Willis/et al., Checklist of Editions of Greek, Latin, Demotic, and Coptic Papyri, Ostraca, and Tablets, available online at: https://library.duke.edu/rubenstein/scriptorium/papyrus/texts/clist.html. AB ABV

ARV2

Austin, C./G. Bastianini. 2002. Posidippi Pellaei quae supersunt omnia. Milan.

Beazley, J. D. 1956. Attic Black-Figure Vase-Painters. Oxford.

Beazley, J. D. 1963. Attic Red-Figure Vase Painters. 2nd edn. Oxford.

Bernabé

Bernabé, A. 1987–2007. Poetarum Epicorum Graecorum Testimonia et

DK

Diels, H./W. Kranz. 1952 Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker. 6th edn. Berlin.

Fragmenta. 4 vols. Leipzig.

Ebert

Ebert, Joachim. 1972. Griechische Epigramme auf Sieger am gymnischen

FGE

Page, D.L. 1981. Further Greek Epigrams. Cambridge.

FGrHist FHG

und hippischen Agonen. Berlin.

Jacoby, F. 1923–1958. Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker. 3 vols. in 6 parts. Berlin/Leiden.

Müller, C./T. Müller. 1843–1870. Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum. 4 vols. Paris.

Finglass

Davies, M./P.J. Finglass. 2014. Stesichorus: The Poems. Cambridge.

Fowler

Fowler, R. L. (2000–2013). Early Greek Mythography. 2 vols. Oxford.

GB

Gallazzi, C./G. Bastianini, con la collaborazione di C. Austin. 2001.

Harder

Harder, M. A. 2012. Callimachus. 2 vols. Oxford.

HE

Posidippo di Pella: Epigrammi (P. Mil. Vogl. VIII 309). Milan.

Gow, A.S.F. /D.L. Page. 1965. The Greek Anthology: Hellenistic Epigrams. 2 vols., Cambridge.

Hollis

Hollis, A.S. 1990. Callimachus, Hecale edited with Introduction and Com-

IG

Inscriptiones Graecae.

Kannicht

mentary. Oxford.

Kannicht, R. 1971–2004. Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta V: Euripides. 2 vols. Göttingen.

K.-G.

Kühner, R./B. Gerth. 1890–1905. Ausführliche Grammatik der griechischen

Liberman

Liberman, G. 1999. Alcée: Fragments. 2 vols. Paris.

LIMC

Sprache. 2 vols. Hannover.

Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae. 1981–1999. 8 vols. Zurich/Munich.

Lightfoot

Lightfoot, J.L. 2009. Hellenistic Collection: Philetas, Alexander of Aetolia, Hermesianax, Euphorion. Cambridge, Mass.

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-204

XIV  Conventions and Abbreviations LSJ9

Liddell, H. G./R. Scott/H. S. Jones/R. Mackenzie. 1940. A Greek-English

M.-W.

Merkelbach, R./M.L. West. 1967. Fragmenta Hesiodea. Oxford.

Lexicon. 9th edn. Oxford.

Massimilla

Massimilla, G. 1996. Callimaco Aetia: libri primo e secondo. Pisa.

Merkelbach/

Merkelbach, R./J. Stauber. 1998–2004. Steinepigramme aus dem griechi-

Stauber OGIS

Massimilla, G. 2010. Callimaco Aetia: libro terzo e quarto. Pisa. schen Osten. 5 vols. Stuttgart.

Dittenberger, W. 1903–1905. Orientis Graeci Inscriptiones Selectae. 2 vols. Leipzig.

Pf.

Pfeiffer, R. 1949–1953. Callimachus. 2 vols. Oxford.

PMGF

Davies, M. 1991. Poetarum Melicorum Graecorum Fragmenta. Oxford.

PMG

Poltera Powell

Page, D.L. 1962. Poetae Melici Graeci. Oxford.

Poltera, O. 2008. Simonides lyricus: Testimonia und Fragmente. Basel.

Powell, J.U. 1925. Collectanea Alexandrina: reliquiae minores poetarum

Graecorum aetatis Ptolemaicae, 323–146 A.C., epicorum, elegiacorum, lyri-

corum, ethicorum. Oxford. Radt

Radt, S.L. 1977. Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta IV: Sophocles. Göttingen.

Schwyzer

Schwyzer, E. 1939–1953. Griechische Grammatik. 4 vols. Munich.

SH

Radt, S.L. 1985. Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta III: Aeschylus. Göttingen. Lloyd-Jones, H./P. Parsons. 1983. Supplementum Hellenisticum. Berlin/New York.

Snell Sn.–M.

Snell, B. 1986. Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta I. Göttingen.

Snell, B./H. Maehler. 1989. Pindari Carmina cum Fragmentis: pt. II Fragmenta, Indices. 8th ed. Leipzig.

Snell, B./H. Maehler. 1970. Bacchylidis Carmina cum Fragmentis. 10th ed. Leipzig. W2

West, M.L. 1989–1992. Iambi et Elegi Graeci. 2 vols. 2nd. edn. Oxford.

West

West, M.L. 2003. Greek Epic Fragments: From the Seventh to the Fifth

Wright

Wright, M.R. 1981. Empedocles: The Extant Fragments. New Haven.

Centuries BC. Cambridge. Mass.

Note on editions The text of Pindar’s epinicians is quoted from the edition of Snell and Maehler (1987); Apollonius, from that of Fraenkel (1961); and Theocritus, from that of Gow (1952). Other texts are quoted from the standard edition as listed in the Oxford Classical Dictionary (4th ed., 2012). Translations are mine unless indicated otherwise.

Introduction: Reception as a Cultural Phenomenon and Textual Process This book examines the reception of Pindar’s poetry in the work of four major Hellenistic poets, all of whom were active in Ptolemaic Alexandria in the first half of the third century BCE: Apollonius of Rhodes, Callimachus of Cyrene, Theocritus of Syracuse, and Posidippus of Pella. The term “reception” is used to describe the process whereby these erudite poets read and understand Pindaric poetry, imbue their works with allusions to Pindar’s œuvre, and expect their readers to pick up these allusions in order to appreciate their own poetic work. According to Lorna Hardwick (2003: 12), reception is a broad cultural phenomenon that characterizes all major movements in ancient and modern societies. Reception, in this view, goes hand-in-hand with reconfiguration: the activity thus described does not involve solely evaluating and analyzing a cultural heirloom but also responding to it through creating something new. The dynamics of cultural reception thus conceived are wide-ranging and concern several media of which literature, and particularly poetry, is only one. To be more specific, mapping the cultural reception of an archaic poet such as Pindar involves, among other topics: the textual transmission of his poems, his place in the canon of lyric poets, and his representation in art. Even so, “reception” in this book is used in a narrow sense to describe solely one aspect of Pindar’s reception—the reception, that is, of the Theban poet only in the poetic works of a very specific period. On the basis of the preceding definition, the interest of the discussion falls on two facets of reception as Hardwick (2003: 12–15) defines them: the use of Pindaric poetry as a cultural paradigm and analogue in Ptolemaic poetry and the reworking or transplanting of Pindaric material into new contexts. This approach also takes into account the political and social dynamics of the process. Engaging with Pindar’s work is never a meaningless act. Rather, it is a charged decision that relates to the agenda of the Ptolemaic court. Focusing on the textual routes of Pindaric reception requires the configuration of a specific theoretical framework that enables modern readers to decide when and how Hellenistic poets engage with and recreate an aspect of Pindar’s poetry in their own work. Several of these intertextual connections are conveniently described nowadays as “allusions.”1 In the following discussion allusions are understood as the means, or at least one of the means, through which readers connect texts. Inevitably any discussion of the process through which Hellenistic  1 See, in particular, Kallendorf 1994; 2006. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-001

2  Introduction: Reception as a Cultural Phenomenon and Textual Process poets allude to the work of Pindar must take into consideration the thorny issue of the criteria according to which allusions can be detected and of the intentionality of any such connection. The situation is further complicated by the fact that the Hellenistic reception of archaic lyric poetry is a comparatively recent field of inquiry.2 Although the (re-)use of the plethora of hapax legomena in the poetic idiom of Homer and Hesiod has been deemed a safe criterion to guide readers in their search for allusions to archaic epic in Hellenistic poetry,3 this methodological tool cannot be effectively utilized in the examination of the reception not only of Pindar but rather of every poet who does not invest his discourse with bizarre and difficult words.4

Allusion and the Pleasure of Reading In a short article of 1951, Giorgio Pasquali gave an outline of his theory of the art of allusion, as he names it. Pasquali’s allusive art is a reaction to the dominance of romantic criticism, a critical trend which laid the emphasis on the genius of the inspired poet and his originality. Romantic critics tended to disregard the interconnections between works of art. Arguing against such a tradition, Pasquali (1951: 11–13) brought out the learned and allusive character not only of literature but of all art forms. Pasquali thus demonstrated that allusion is inherent in every form of cultural expression and that it is then a necessary condition for the audience to appreciate the beauty of a piece of art.5 Still, Pasquali understood allusions in terms of i n t e n t i o n a l reference by the author to previous works and not as something unmotivated and so inherent to artistic expression. Reacting to this approach, Conte and Barchiesi have posited that allusion does not describe the intention of the author but ought to be viewed as an inherent part of poetic language. Indeed, Conte and Barchiesi distinguish whether an allusion relates to a specific passage so as to add a further layer of meaning (modello esemplare) or to a generic tradition that can be illustrated through specific passages (modello

 2 For the influence of archaic lyric on Hellenistic poetry, see Fuhrer 1992, Hunter 1996, and Acosta-Hughes 2010. Relevant ground is also covered by the essays collected in the special issues of Trends in Classics 9.2 (2017) and aitia 8.1 (2018). Phillips 2016 examines the interaction of the performative discourse of Pindaric odes with Hellenistic reader practices as they can be evinced from the Pindaric scholia. 3 Kyriakou 1995. 4 van Tress 2004: 2. 5 Riffaterre 1979: 496; 1980: 4.

Allusion and the Pleasure of Reading  3

genere / codice).6 Similar interpretations have been accepted by scholars working in the field of reception studies and is also followed in this book. Indeed a fundamental premise of reception studies is that meaning is created at the point of reception.7 Accordingly, it is assumed that it is the reader, not the author, who generates meaning. Traditionally, critics have thought that it is the author who controls the reception of the allusions, which he has chosen, by his audience. This approach leads to serious confusion in the case of ancient literature, where one lacks the important help of all the paratextual information that one has in modern literature.8 Even if one were to concede the opinion that it is the author, not reader, who controls allusions as valid in principle, there is no way of ascertaining that even the first audience would have received the meaning of the text in exactly the way the author had intended. Such an approach posits the h i s t o r i c i z i n g f a l l a c y of a unified horizon of expectations, not to mention our inability to recompose effectively the horizon of the first, and subsequent, performances.9 So, it would seem, it is quite hard to determine which allusions the author intends for the audience and which not. As Martindale (1993: 3–4) rightly argues, “the writer can never control the reception of his or her work, with respect either to the character or to the readership or to any use which is made of that work.”10 Said differently, it is not Callimachus who controls the recognition of allusions to Pindar in his own text; rather it is the modern reader who (re-)constructs and negotiates the relationship between the images of the two poets (e.g. Callimachus and Pindar) he or she has also created for himself or herself.11 This realization brings us to our next point that concerns the role of the reader in the discussion of the reception of an author in the works of other authors. “Traditional” critics demand the designation of parameters or criteria, whereby one could safely define what constitutes an allusion or not, so as to salvage some notion of “objective” criticism. Still, none of the modern theoretical approaches to intertextual theory, with the exception of Riffaterre’s non-grammaticalité, has devised such criteria;12 this would have been contrary to the “dialogic” character of  6 Conte and Barchiesi 1989: 94–100. 7 Martindale 1993: 3; Hinds 1998: 47–51; Batstone 2006: 14; Kallendorf 2006: 68. 8 Wimsatt/Beardsley 1946: 6–7. 9 Iser 1976: 52; Goldhill 1990: 115; Martindale 1993: 15–17; Hinds 1998: 46. 10 Silk 1974: 74. 11 Martindale 1993: 73; Kallendorf 2006: 68–70; Phillips 2016: 27. 12 Riffaterre 1980: 5–6. See also van Tress 2004: 10. The aberration or déformation, as Riffaterre calls it, is the trace for his intertextualité obligatoire in contrast to Barthes’s intertextualité aléatoire. Even so, Riffaterre’s interpretations indicate that the lines between these models are,

4  Introduction: Reception as a Cultural Phenomenon and Textual Process the term. This said, most of the time the devising of such formal criteria is just another expression of “intentionalism.” Returning, for example, to the works of “traditional” scholars, one can still see that they insist on drawing a firm distinction between significant (patent) and insignificant (latent) “choices.” On this basis, they tend to use a battery of terms including “coincidence,” “unconscious reproduction,” “evocation” or “citation,” without ever taking the time to clarify their own criteria.13 Don Fowler (2000: 122) mentions “markedness” and “sense” as two criteria usually expected in traditional approaches. Nevertheless both terms are far from securing the “scientific” rigor that a “traditional” critic would expect. One could object that an allusion is rendered interesting if it is incorporated effectively into the universe discourse of the reader-critic. So this would render the second criterion subjective. The same could be argued for the so-called strikingness of the allusion. Fowler (2000: 125 note 15) does not elaborate on this first criterion, whose importance far exceeds that of the second; rather, he refers to the criteria set by Silk (1974) for distinguishing between a dead and an interactive metaphor. According to Silk, scholarly endeavors to distinguish metaphorical and normal usage should operate on the principle of “perceptible abnormality” (33). This can be appreciated only against the background of “presumptive normality” (35), which is established using quantitative and qualitative evidence offered by other texts. Silk’s “perceptible abnormality” is a useful starting point but cannot describe every single intertextual connection that rests primarily on the response of the reader. Such responses include, as a rule, not only language and style, but also content, imagery, and genre. But even if one were to posit such criteria, again this could not safely reflect the intention of the author. Testimonies of modern authors have actually shown that allusions picked up by empirical readers may have not been there in the author’s consciousness during the act of writing but were there subconsciously.14 So

 if not non-existent, extremely thin. For a criticism of “objectivity” in literary interpretation see Barthes 1970: 15–16; cf. also Jauss 1967: 29–30, 43–50; Iser 1976: 21–22; Todorov 1984: 173; Martindale 1993: 5. If “subjectivity” is inherent in every reading, only arbitrariness, that is, neglect of the context, is unreliable; cf. Derrida 1967: 226–230, Eco 1990: 55, and Culler 2002: 103. 13 So, for instance, Kellet 1933: 31–32 and Pasquali 1951: 11. See, however, Conte and Barchiesi 1989: 90–93. 14 Eco (1994: 85–88) offers two illuminating examples from his personal experience. Hinds (1998: 25–26) mentions the criteria K. Morgan (1977) uses in her study of the influence of Propertius on Ovid. With the sole exception of “similarity in the choice of words” and “structural development,” the rest of K. Morgan’s (1977: 3) “philological criteria” are applicable mainly in the examination of poems that are composed in the same meter. See also Harder 2002: 191 for such a descriptive approach.

Allusion and the Pleasure of Reading  5

it could be safely said that the picking up of textual connections relates to each reader’s personal cultural cargo.15 Another important point is that ancient authors and readers do not seem aware of the importance of such arguments in favor of intertextual connections. This is where Genette’s version of intertextuality can become helpful:16 readers respond to texts according to their reading habits, which are constructed on the basis of other texts (transtextualité) and more importantly of genre expectations (architextualité).17 We do not possess enough information about reading practices in Hellenistic times; these could enlighten us on the way(s) in which poets themselves read previous authors and expect their works to be read. Even so, the ancient scholia, as has been recently suggested,18 could provide us with a vague picture of the way in which educated (Hellenistic) readers read and associate texts with each other in order to understand them. One can point to the extensive corpora of scholia on Apollonius, Theocritus and especially Pindar. In its present state, though, the corpus of Pindaric scholia brings together material of different origin and, more importantly, of different date.19 With the exception of those few cases in which

 15 Phillips 2016: 36; Spelman 2018: 28–29. In the case of Hellenistic court poetry the same argument has been put forward by Weber (1993: 128–130), who speaks of Verstehensebene (“levels of understanding”) related to each person’s cultural cargo and erudition. 16 The basic problem with structuralist varieties of “intertextuality” (the appropriate term for Genette’s theory would be “transtextuality” [see Genette 1982: 8–9]), represented by Genette and Riffaterre, is the limited and ambiguous role they assign to the reader. Like Saussure before them, Genette and Riffaterre fail to situate their system within a social context—i.e., to take into account the social milieu of readers, as Barthes (1970: 9–20) argues. For a groundbreaking criticism of Saussure’s abstract objectivism, to which such structural variants subscribe, see Vološinov 1986: 65–98. Their approach is structured on the belief in the meaning of the text as a transcendent signified—a signified, that is, that can be received by successive generations of readers in exactly the same way without any alteration; for such an approach see Harder 2002: 189, 225– 226. Needless to say, such a unified perception of the readers’ response is misleading and neglects certain important parameters such as gender, age, social class and cultural background, ideological ambience etc.; on this point see also Jauss 1967: 43; Eco 1992: 67; Martindale 1993: 15–17, and Kallendorf 1994. 17 Dubrow 1982: 31, 34. 18 Acosta-Hughes 2010; Phillips 2016. 19 See especially Deas 1931 and now Phillips 2016: 60–61. In their present form, the scholia are based on a fourth-century-CE epitome which, in turn, is based on another epitome (the “Schulausgabe”) of the second half of the 2nd century CE. The greater part of the parallels between Pindar and Hellenistic poets is believed to derive from Theon’s commentary on Pindar; see Deas 1931: 40–42; Phillips 2016: 62–63.

6  Introduction: Reception as a Cultural Phenomenon and Textual Process the scholiast has preserved the name of a great Hellenistic scholar, the authorship of most notes cannot be securely attributed to a certain person.20 Nonetheless, this does not diminish their inherent value as they reflect the basis on which some educated Hellenistic readers proceed to associate texts with each other. Their often naïve approaches aside, they are still helpful as they point out models, variations, and correspondences, or, at least, Hellenistic constructions of models, variations, and correspondences. It is true that not all notes can equally claim our attention in view of their often fanciful interpretations, but they are indicative of the reading practices of scholars, a group of readers to which most Hellenistic poets also belong.21 Their value for the needs of this discussion is not apodictic but rather circumstantial. To put it differently, if an (anonymous) scholiast thinks that two texts could be associated, for whatever reasons, this could give us a vague idea of the interconnections apparent to ancient reader-scholars’ minds vis-à-vis a specific text; against this fragmentary background, one could evaluate not the cogency of the allusions suggested by modern reader-scholars but their possible relevance for ancient reading practices or interpretations. It should be pointed out that allusions cannot have or lack cogency; what has or lacks cogency is the contextualization of a perceived or proposed allusion. An example from Callimachus’s epinician elegy for Sosibius (fr. 384 Pf.) could help to illustrate this principle. In lines 35–36, the speaker, presumably Sosibius himself (note the plural verb ἐδώκαμεν at line 37) is represented talking about the prizes set in the Panathenian Games: “—καὶ παρ’ Ἀθηναίοις γὰρ ἐπὶ στέγος ἱερὸν ἧνται | κάλπιδες, οὐ κόσμου σύμβολον, ἀλλὰ πάλης […]” (“for in Athens the pitchers are kept in a sacred temple not as a sign of decoration, but of wrestling […]”). These two lines are not preserved on the papyrus that has restored to us the greater part of this elegy (POxy. 1793) but are quoted by the ancient scholia on Pindar’s Nemean 10.64a [= 35–36 in Snell and Maehler’s text]: γ α ί ᾳ δ ὲ κ α υ θ ε ί σ ᾳ π υ ρ ὶ κ α ρ π ὸ ς ἐ λ α ί α ς ἔ μ ο λ ε : τίθενται γὰρ Ἀθήνησιν ἐπάθλου τάξιν ἐλαίου πλήρεις ὑδρίαι. διὸ καὶ Καλλίμαχος … the fruit of the olive tree arrived in earth baked in fire …: in Athens, that is, water jars full of olive oil are set as prizes. Hence Callimachus …

 20 Phillips 2016: 167–168. 21 Phillips 2016: 26–27.

The Limits of Interpretation  7

An allusion at this point to Pindar’s Nemean 10 would not add any further layer of meaning to Callimachus’s poem. Still, the allusion to the opening lines of Olympian 9 in the following lines of Callimachus’s poem (38–40) indicates that one is in a Pindaric environment. Apparently, the scholiast quotes Callimachus’s lines not as a case of influence, as modern scholars assume,22 but so as to give another source for the prizes instituted at the Panathenaea.23 Even so, this could be characteristic of a tendency to associate texts, even if only on account of content. The association proposed by the Pindaric scholia in the case of Victoria Sosibii allows us to raise the possibility that certain Hellenistic readers could have similarly made an intertextual association with Pindar’s ode themselves when they read the Victoria Berenices; this possibility becomes stronger when one remembers that ancient scholars group texts together on the basis of their content and genre. And if they react in this way, this could imply that Callimachus “intends” this reaction. Another telling case is provided by the ancient scholia on Nemean 1.56 [=1.36 Sn.-M.]. The scholiast notes the discrepancy between the accounts of Pindar and Theocritus in respect of a detail concerning the age difference between Heracles and his brother Iphicles. In Nemean 1 Pindar presents Heracles and Iphicles as twins, while Theocritus (24.2) presents Iphicles as younger by one night. If readers were attentive enough to point out what in modern eyes appears as a minor, insignificant difference, it would be natural to assume that they would have compared the two versions in other points as well and perhaps even tried to account for them.

The Limits of Interpretation Speaking of allusions in Greek poetry, Richard Garner (1990: 1) notes that “poetic allusions […] cannot be proved or disproved.”24 The fact that there are no “safe” criteria to prove an allusion does not mean that anything goes, or should go, in one’s reading; as Silk (1974: 63) rightly reminds us, “to reject intentionalism as a criterion of effective status is not to espouse arbitrariness; there is no necessary link. Arbitrary interpretation is ipso facto at fault […].”25 The text is not the play-

 22 Fuhrer 1992: 184–186. 23 Briand 2008. 24 van Tress 2004: 11. 25 See also Derrida 1967: 227; Wimsatt 1968: 125; Eco 1990: 54; and Culler 1992: 120.

8  Introduction: Reception as a Cultural Phenomenon and Textual Process ground of the critic-reader: one may sense an allusion but it is one’s responsibility to show why this is probable or even plausible26 and how this could work for the interpretation of the text. The safest way to do so is the context or what Eco has termed the “intention of the text”; the intention of the text, as a critical tool, coincides with the intention of each reader, who is controlled or governed in his reading by the internal coherence of the context.27 This principle, argues Eco (1990: 41), can help us to distinguish between legitimate and illegitimate readings. This of course does not mean that every critical reading has—or can have— the same degree of persuasiveness; but this is a matter of the reception of the reading itself.28 For Roland Barthes, (“La mort de l’auteur”) the death of the author signaled the birth of the reader.29 In the field of classics, and from a different theoretical standpoint, Silk’s (1974: 60–62; 233–235) attack on intentionalism has lent further strength to such a critical stance. Still, we have preferred the approach advocated by Hinds (1998: 49). Following Eco, Hinds has argued in favor of the reintroduction of the author into our critical discourse.30 For Eco the author is nothing more than a (textual) construction of each reader; a construction, that is, on to which the reader can project the intention of the text as he or she understands it.31

Pindar’s Reception in Ptolemaic Poetry: Criteria and Tools Bearing in mind the previous theoretical considerations, the following discussion argues that genre and mythological material are two effective criteria that can help bolster considerations of an intertextual kind. Accordingly, the following  26 For the notion of plausibility in literary criticism, see Hirsch 1960: 47 and especially Bénichou ap. Todorov 1984: 171–173. Cf. Phillips 2016: 27. 27 Eco 1990: 58–60; Wimsatt/Beardsley 1946: 9–13; Hirsch 1960: 48; Conte and Barchiesi 1989: 91n13. Some scholars view the text as the process of producing its Model Reader (cf. Iser 1976: 39; Eco 1990: 58–59)—that is, as Iser (1976: 38–39 and esp. 44–50, 60–6) argues, the text offers “objectively definable structures,” which can direct the readers’ responses through time according to their milieu. 28 See also Culler 1992: 110–114; Kallendorf 1994. 29 Barthes 1984: 61–62; cf. Culler 2002: 78. Foucault (1979: 143–145) criticized Barthes’s use of notions such as œuvre and écriture, since they presuppose the unifying presence of the author, vouchsafing the privileges that he attempts to fight. Cf. Bennett 2005: 20–21. 30 Eco seems to develop one the “functions” of the concept of author that Foucault (1979: 150) had suggested for further examination; cf. also Bennett 2005: 22–28. 31 Eco 1992: 63; cf. also Wimsatt 1968: 123; Hirsch 1960: 52–54.

Pindar’s Reception in Ptolemaic Poetry: Criteria and Tools  9

chapters treat poems that either belong to genres connected with Pindar’s poetic activity (e.g. victory songs, hymns, and paeans) or narrate mythological episodes found before in Pindar’s poetry, even if Pindar was not the first or the only poet to deal with them (e.g. the birth of Heracles, the myth of Delos, and the Argonautic expedition). These two criteria are used on the basis of evidence, slight though it may sometimes be, for the way in which ancient readers read and associate texts with each other. It is safe to argue that readers connect texts with each other when they share the same generic discourse or similar subject matter. The issue of the existence or not of genres in ancient times is complicated and cannot be treated in detail here. Ideas such as these, if they ever existed, would have changed with the passage of time.32 Furthermore, the ideas of philosophers (e.g. Plato Ion 534C, Leg. 700A-B, Resp. 394B-C) or grammarians on the topic cannot be assumed to be representative of what poets thought.33 For poets of Pindar’s time the concept of genre, as we understand it nowadays, was probably predicated on the context of performance with its cultic content, tradition of previous performances and audience expectations.34 Context of performance went handin-hand with subject matter in the determination of a poem’s generic identity.35 The divorce of the text from its performance in Hellenistic times generated an emphasis on content alone, especially as the surrounding context was irrevocably lost.36 Hellenistic reader-scholars grouped texts into genres on the basis of content. At the same time, Hellenistic readers are also aware of the importance of motifs, themes and topics for establishing the specifics of a given generic discourse. For instance, the manner in which Callimachus composes his own epinician elegies for Sosibius and Queen Berenice II centuries after the apparent decline of the genre indicates that he comprehends the basics of epinician grammar so as to incorporate its motifs effectively in his poems. Callimachus designates the elegy for Berenice II as “our epinician poem (for?) your horses” (ἡμ[ε]τερο ̣ [ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣] ̣ εων ἐπινίκιον ἵππω̣[ν) or, at least, something similar.37 Although the cognate ἐπίνικος

 32 Calame 1974: 119–121. 33 Calame 1974: 124–125. 34 Cf. e.g. Pindar fr. 128c Sn.-M. with Cannatà Fera’s (1990: 136–44) discussion. 35 L.E. Rossi 1971: 70; Calame 1974: 118; Nagy 1994–95: 11, 13; van Tress 2004: 5–6. 36 Hunter 1996: 3–4. 37 For the various supplements of the text proposed and the syntactical function of the genitive (ἵππων), see Massimilla 2010: 227 and Harder 2012: vol. 2, 398–399.

10  Introduction: Reception as a Cultural Phenomenon and Textual Process is used more frequently,38 Callimachus probably borrows ἐπινίκιον from contemporary scholarly terminology.39 In addition to such generic tags, the strongest indication about the epinician character of the elegy derives from the detailed description of the victorious race in the proem (fr. 54.8–10 Harder = 143.8–10 Massimilla) and the specifics of the myth selected. Particularly, the former consideration is enough in itself to suggest a wealthy laudandus, who has the means to meet the cost involved in maintaining horses and participating in the chariot events (cf. fr. 384.55–6 Pf.; Posidippus AB 73). In so doing, the poet refers to another standard motif of epinician praise—that is, the megaloprepeia (“magnificence”) of the victor. Platonic evidence suggests that Callimachus is not alone in establishing connections on the basis of generic considerations.40 In a passage from his Lysis (205C–D), the importance of which is rightly evaluated by Groningen (1958: 325n1), Plato reproduces the motifs of epinician poetry, as he knew them from reading Pindar and other epinician poets, and employs them for the creation of a mock prose epinician: ἃ δὲ ἡ πόλις ὅλη ᾄδει περὶ Δημοκράτους καὶ Λύσιδος τοῦ πάππου τοῦ παιδὸς καὶ πάντων πέρι τῶν προγόνων, πλούτους τε καὶ ἱπποτροφίας καὶ νίκας Πυθοῖ καὶ Ἰσθμοῖ καὶ Νεμέᾳ τεθρίπποις τε καὶ κέλησι, ταῦτα ποιεῖ τε καὶ λέγει, πρὸς δὲ τούτοις ἔτι τούτων κρονικώτερα. τὸν γὰρ τοῦ Ἡρακλέους ξενισμὸν πρῴην ἡμῖν ἐν ποιήματί τινι διῄει, ὡς διὰ τὴν τοῦ Ἡρακλέους συγγένειαν ὁ πρόγονος αὐτῶν ὑποδέξαιτο τὸν Ἡρακλέα, γεγονὼς αὐτὸς ἐκ Διός τε καὶ τῆς τοῦ δήμου ἀρχηγέτου θυγατρός, ἅπερ αἱ γραῖαι ᾄδουσι, καὶ ἄλλα πολλὰ τοιαῦτα, ὦ Σώκρατες· ταῦτ’ ἐστὶν ἃ οὗτος λέγων τε καὶ ᾄδων ἀναγκάζει καὶ ἡμᾶς ἀκροᾶσθαι. But he only writes and relates things that the whole city sings of, recalling Democrates and the boy’s grandfather Lysis and all his ancestors, with their wealth and the horses they kept, and their victories at Delphi, the Isthmus, and Nemea, with chariot-teams and coursers, and, in addition, even hoarier antiquities than these. Only two days ago he was recounting to us in some poem of his the entertainment of Hercules,—how on account of his kinship with Hercules their forefather welcomed the hero, being himself the offspring of Zeus and

 38 Färber 1936: I.35–36, Harvey 1955: 163–164, and Lowe 2007: 167–168. See also Färber 1936: II.44–45 (= Σ Dion. Thrac. 451,10 Hilg.); Dieg. Call. Iamb. 8.21–23 (p. 195 Pf.). ἐπίνικος is consistently used for Callimachus’s elegy for Sosibius: see the marginal comment on POxy. 2258 fr. 2r ad vv. inter 15 et 23 and Athenaeus (4.144f) who talks of “an epinician elegy” (ἐπίνικον ἐλεγειακόν). 39 Heraclides Ponticus (Aristotle fr. 568 Rose) and Aristotle (fr. 611.55 Rose), who depends on the former, use ἐπινίκιος to classify Simonides’s epinician ode for Anaxilas of Rhegion (fr. 2 Poltera). 40 Irigoin 1952: 16–18, Cole 1992: 15n8. Scholars have detected similarities between epinician motifs and Platonic passages. For instance, Heath (1988: 188) compares Alcibiades’s speech of arrival in the Symposium with Nem. 1.19 (ἔσταν ἐπ’ αὐλείαις θύραις); see also Cole 1992: 14–15.

Pindar’s Reception in Ptolemaic Poetry: Criteria and Tools  11

of the daughter of their deme's founder; such old wives’ tales, and many more of the sort, Socrates,—these are the things he tells and trolls, while compelling us to be his audience. (tr. W.R.M. Lamb)

All these are motifs that one finds repeatedly in Pindar’s and Bacchylides’s odes: praise of the victor’s forefathers; gnōmai on the use of wealth as a means of showing one’s innate excellence; a record of previous victories. The speaker attaches special importance to mythological episodes connected with the ancestral history of the family, such as the theoxenia offered by the victor’s ancestors to Heracles and the mythological connection with Zeus himself. These elements are not to be viewed as generic per se, but their employment alludes to the use of family myths in epinician odes; one could compare, for instance, the hospitality offered to the Dioscuri by the laudandus’s ancestors in Olympian 3 and Nemean 10. In addition to the generic discourse, the treatment of the same mythological episode is a strong enough condition on which to base the establishment of an intertextual connection. By early classical times, this was part of the reading habits of ancient readers as well if one can judge from the following fragment of Simonides (fr. 273 Poltera): ὃς δουρὶ πάντας νίκασε νέους, δινάεντα βαλὼν Ἄναυρον ὕπερ πολυβότρυος ἐξ Ἰωλκοῦ· οὕτω γὰρ Ὅμηρος ἠδὲ Στασίχορος ἄεισε λαοῖς. He defeated all other young men, hurling the javelin over eddying Anauros from Iolcus rich in vines; for so did Homer and Stesichorus sing to the people.

This fragment, probably from an epinician ode of Simonides, is used by Athenaeus (4.172 E) to prove that Stesichorus was the author of the poem Ἆθλα ἐπὶ Πελίαι. Homer’s name is used here as a tag for epic poetry in general and probably alludes to Eumelus’s Corinthiaka.41 Simonides provides his audience with another text against which his version “ought” to be read. More interestingly, though, as scholars have pointed out,42 this fragment reveals a gradual receding of the Muses’ importance as providers of factual knowledge and their replacement with previous poetic texts. The older version can either become the canonical version on which the later poet will rely on or from which, for whatever reason, he will

 41 Poltera 2008 ad loc. 42 Gianotti 1975: 52 notes that Simonides (cf. e.g. fr. 19 W2) along with Xenophanes was the first poet to introduce citations and references to previous poets.

12  Introduction: Reception as a Cultural Phenomenon and Textual Process depart. With the passage of time this tendency to associate texts dealing with the same material becomes more widespread. Another example from around the same period is provided by Pindar in his Olympian 1 (36): “son of Tantalus, I shall speak of you in terms contradictory to older men” (υἱὲ Ταντάλου, σὲ δ’ ἀντία προτέρων φθέγξομαι). The scholia ad loc. (58b) unfold the polemical character of the allusion: ἀντὶ τοῦ ἐναντία καὶ ἕτερα οἷς εἶπον οἱ πρότεροι ποιηταὶ δοξάσω σε καὶ ἐρῶ (“instead of: I will celebrate you and talk of you in contrast to and differently from what previous poets have said about you”). Pindar does not identify the text(s), or generally media (i.e. pottery, sculpture etc.), in which the other version is to be found; still it is revealing of contemporary reading habits that Pindar expects his audience to make the associations and so informs it that he is going against the prevailing opinion.43 This argument retains its validity even if the version turned down was not part of another poem but of a different oral, pictorial or sculptural tradition. Along similar lines, Callimachus, who has a greater number of (textual) sources at his disposal than Pindar remarks in his Hymn to Zeus (60–61): δηναιοὶ δ’ οὐ πάμπαν ἀληθέες ἦσαν ἀοιδοί· φάντο πάλον Κρονίδηισιν διάτριχα δώματα νεῖμαι. Old poets were not entirely truthful; they claimed that the three sons of Cronus divided his palaces by lot.

The older singers whose veracity Callimachus doubts are Homer (Iliad 15.187– 193) and Pindar (Olympian 7.54–55).44 The articulation of the intertextual comparison with the two previous versions is certainly more obvious than that of Pindar or Simonides. Callimachus includes linguistic markers that point to both other accounts: διάτριχα δώματα νεῖμαι harks back to the Homeric passage (189, τριχθὰ δὲ πάντα δέδασται), while the combination of δηναιοί … ἀοιδοί and φάντο looks quite similar to the Pindaric φαντὶ δ’ ἀνθρώπων παλαιαὶ ῥήσιες.45 As Hillary Mackie (2003: 69) notes, “the epinician poet’s habit of introducing myths as a matter of ‘what people say’ suggests that the past is viewed as more remote and less knowable in this genre than it is in epic.” Mackie (2003: 69–75) connects this attitude of Pindar with his freedom to choose among several traditions the one which is most suitable to the occasion at hand and which Pindar considers to be the only truthful one. As we are going to see in the discussion of Callimachus’s  43 See also Nagy 1990: 129 with n. 73, 200–201. 44 McLennan 1977 ad loc. 45 e.g. Pythian 1.52; 2.21; 4.88, 287; 6.21; 7.19; Isthmian 8.46a; see also Bacchylides 5.155.

Pindar’s Reception in Ptolemaic Poetry: Criteria and Tools  13

Hymn 1, Callimachus uses the same convention to attack the veracity of the older version represented as accurate by Pindar because it is not appropriate to the praise of Ptolemy II.46 One can conclude then that ancient authors and their readers tend to associate texts that deal with the same mythological material.47 Regarding the second criterion designated, one should point out that establishing an intertextual relationship between a Hellenistic text and an ode of Pindar on the basis of mythological material does not imply that there are (or were) no other possible subtexts. Not only does such a claim contradict the plurality implied by the concept of intertextuality but also the reality of the texts themselves. Intertextuality does not function on a one-to-one, exclusive basis. To foreground the Pindaric associations in our discussion of any given text does not mean that other subtexts are being hushed or ignored. On the contrary, from the variety of the available subtexts one focuses on those which are relevant for the purpose of one’s inquiry. At the same time, it is never assumed that when more intertexts than one, Pindaric or not, can be suggested, all of them have the same importance for the discussion. The following discussion will try to make this clear whenever several possible subtexts can be discerned. One should also note that any implication that the number of subtexts for a given text is fixed so as to be presentable in the form of a list would go against every tenet of intertextual theory as established by Kristeva (1969: 145–146) and

 46 For other such cases of “negative intertextuality” in Pindar’s poems and their discussion in Hellenistic scholarship, which Callimachus probably reflects here, see Phillips 2016: 176–177. 47 Simonides and Callimachus are more specific than Pindar in designating the medium of their intertexts as textual. Pindar employs an expression which is found elsewhere (cf. e.g. Hom. Il. 9.524–525; Mimn. fr. 14.2 W2 [προτέρων πεύθομαι]; Pind. Pyth. 3.80, Nem. 3.52–53 [λεγόμενον δὲ τοῦτο προτέρων ἔχω ἔπος] and, in my view, should also include artistic representations. For variations cf. Call. Hymn 5.56 μῦθος δ’ οὐκ ἐμός, ἀλλ’ ἑτέρων where the poet not only indicates his dependence on unnamed sources but also repudiates any responsibility for the version offered; cf. Bulloch 1985 ad 55–56 with n2 on p.161 for a detailed discussion with more examples. On the other hand, the fact that Callimachus talks about poets should not prevent us from taking into account artistic representations for the version repudiated; cf. e.g. Xenokles’s lip-cup from the 6th cent. BCE (London, British Museum B425 = ABV 184 = Beazley Archive 302436) which represents the three sons of Cronus as drawing lots for their kingdoms; cf. also Vermeule 1979: 34; LIMC IV.1 p. 390. Readers would have probably been aware of, and influenced in their response by, such pictorial accounts. The fifth century had already witnessed an interest in the interaction between poetry and painting. Compare, for instance, Simonides’s definition of poetry as “talking painting” and of painting as “silent poetry” (Plutarch, de glor. Ath. 3.346), on which see Ford 2002: 96–101. Cf. also Aesch. Ag. 241–242, with Headlam/Thomson 1966: vol. 2, 25 on lines 243–244, who associate the text with Simonides’s definition. For the same association see also Karouzos 1982 footnote 74.

14  Introduction: Reception as a Cultural Phenomenon and Textual Process developed by Barthes (1970: 9–20). Both of these theorists concede that the plurality suggested by the concept of intertextuality is necessarily of lesser degree in pre-modernist literature. Even so, the loss of possibly relevant texts (e.g. the numerous epics on Heracles for Idyll 24) adds further problems to such precarious claims to exhaustiveness in the examination of intertextuality in Hellenistic poetry. Establishing the parameters within which an intertextual connection between a Hellenistic poem and Pindar can be appreciated is only the first step in the present enquiry. The second concerns the reason why Hellenistic poets turn to Pindar and what this dependence of Hellenistic poets on Pindar can tell us about Pindar’s reception in the times after the death of Alexander the Great. The distinction introduced above between connection on the basis of genre and connection on the basis of common material conceals an important realization. In almost all the cases examined in the following chapters, similarity in mythological material appears in Hellenistic poems which also share a clearly demarcated praise function. Although these Hellenistic poems do not belong to the epinician genre, they still belong to the same praise discourse that covers and includes a variety of praise forms associated with Pindar’s name such as hymns, paeans, dirges and encomia. For instance, Theocritus’s Heracliscus and Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo, to mention only two such examples, look back to Pindar as the source for their mythological material (Heracles’s first victory; the myth of Cyrene; founding of Cyrene etc.). They also look back to Pindar with regard to the manner in which Pindar shapes this mythological material as a vehicle for his praise discourse. Even in the case of Apollonius’s Argonautica, a poem that belongs to a different generic tradition (epic), Pindar’s influence can be established on the basis of the material selected and the manner in which Apollonius correlates heroic status and athletic performance with regard to specific characters (e.g. Heracles, Polydeuces, Jason). Additionally, similarities in the manner in which Apollonius and Pindar structure their narratives, treat the gods, and make use of colonial discourse reflect the authoritative status that Pindar’s lyric version of the Argonautic expedition had acquired in Hellenistic times. Consequently, Pindar’s influence on various aspects, such as poetics, myth, and poetic voice reflects Pindar’s shaping of these aspects of poetic activity through the prism of praise discourse, which, in turn, is conditioned by Pindar’s specific poetic and ethical worldview. The picture that emerges suggests that allusions to Pindar are found predominantly in areas where praise and its proper form is at stake. This realization reflects that, to Hellenistic poets, Pindar is the praise poet par excellence. Although the poems discussed in the following chapters are independent case-studies that

Pindar’s Reception in Ptolemaic Poetry: Criteria and Tools  15

support this thesis, there are similarities between them that quite reasonably reflect the common political and cultural ambience in which Hellenistic poets operate. This explanation accounts for the importance of Pindar’s Cyrenean odes (Pythians 4, 5, and 9) especially for those poems that praise, either explicitly or implicitly, Berenice II and her country of origin. In addition, Pythian 1 proves to be particularly popular in two regards: first, it establishes an analogy between Zeus’s Olympian rule and that of Hieron, bestowing a preferential role to praise poets as representatives of cosmic order; second, the trope of the victorious king reenacting Zeus’s defeat of Typhon through his athletic victory is important inasmuch as it reflects the pharaonic background of Ptolemaic monarchy. In other cases, such as the Victoria Berenices, the Hymn to Delos, and Theocritus 24, the selection of Pindaric odes (Olympian 3; Paean 5, 7b, 12, Hymn 1; Nemean 1, Paean 20) is more topical reflecting the importance of content and of its Pindaric shaping. Finally, as a great deal of Pindar’s “non-epinician” poetry has not survived, the discussion that follows necessarily focuses on the reception of his epinician poems. This may lead to false impressions about the reception of Pindar in Hellenistic times, but there is no way to avoid this risk.48 Still, as we are going to see, we have good reasons to suppose that, for instance, Callimachus alludes to Pindar’s Paean 4 in the proem of his epinician for Queen Berenice II, while he uses imagery from Paean 7b for the articulation of his manifesto in the Aetia prologue and the presentation of his own version of the myth of Delos in Hymn 4. A close reading of Theocritus 24 suggests his acquaintance with the so-called Paean 20, which in all probability represents one of Pindar’s prosodia. Echoes to Pindar’s first hymn reverberate in Callimachus’s Hymns to Zeus and Delos. As a matter of fact, these two Callimachean hymns manifest the considerable influence that Pindar’s non-epinician poetry exercised on Hellenistic poets. In particular, the Hymn to Zeus opens with a clear imitation of Pindar’s Prosodion to Artemis, while the Hymn to Delos acknowledges its multifarious debt to Pindar’s Paeans for the myth of the creation of Delos, particularly Paeans 5, 7b, and 12.

 48 Spelman 2018: 132–135 discusses the appeal of Pindar’s cultic poems.



Part I: Epinician Poetry and Discourse

Chapter 1 Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies Introduction Of the various genres of archaic Greek lyric that we know about, none is better represented nowadays than victory songs—songs, that is, composed for the celebration of athletic victories. The survival of almost all of Pindar’s victory songs means that modern readers have the good fortune to witness this genre at the moment of its highest peak as developed by one of its best practicioners. The discovery of a papyrus containing several of Bacchylides’s poems1 has added considerably to our knowledge of this lyric genre, by allowing us to examine a poet working in the same period as Pindar. Further papyrus fragments and quotations by later authors have restored partial knowledge of the poetic output of another great epinician poet—Simonides. Simonides, Pindar, and Bacchylides represent for us now the bulk of epinician poetry. Their combined activity covers the better part of the fifth century. In addition to the works of these three poets, scholars now assume that epinician poetry is older still. Closer examination of some fragments of Ibycus (sixth century BCE) suggests possible affinities to epinician poetry.2 Still, the first attestation of epinician praise seems to be found in the fragments of Archilochus in the seventh century. Archilochus’s poem (fr. 324 W.2), a hymn to Heracles, was a ready-made poem applied with no discrimination to any Olympic victor.3 By using this hymn to celebrate the victory of a mortal athlete, Archilochus conveys, implicitly at least, that Heracles constitutes the measure by which any mortal effort can be evaluated and appreciated.4 To be sure, the mortal victor falls short of Heracles’s potential. Nonetheless, the aim of the poet is not to ridicule the limits of mortal abilities. Rather, the comparison suggests the extent of the mortal victor’s effort, allowing him to approximate the status of Heracles. Imitating on a lesser scale the son of Zeus, the mortal victor is thus seen in a positive light.  1 British Library, Papyrus 733. Maslov 2015: 277–286 offers a fascinating account of the (pre)history of the epinician genre. See also Spelman 2018: 184–192. 2 Barron 1984; Jenner 1986; Rawles 2012; Wilkinson 2013: 23–29. 3 Cf. Pind. Ol. 9. 1–2 with Giannini 2013 ad loc. See also Thomas 2007: 144–145; Agócs 2012: 212– 216. 4 Maslov 2015: 278. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-002

20  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies The adjustment of a generic praise discourse such as that of Archilochus to the specifics of each individual victor represents a decisive moment in the history of the genre. Still the ideological implications permeating Archilochus’s poem remain the same throughout the epinician output of both Pindar and Bacchylides. It seems probable that the transition from a generic, ready-made form of praise to a specific one transpired under the influence of athletic inscriptions or, at least, in interaction with them.5 Pindar’s victory songs provide ample evidence of the rivalry between different media of epinician praise (e.g. statues, inscriptions, victory songs). Victory songs share with inscriptions part of their discourse: they include information regarding the victor, his family, his city, and the bare specifics about his victory. The interaction between these two different branches of epinician praise is important because it offers the background against which one can better read Posidippus’s epigrams on Ptolemaic equestrian victories. Additionally, consideration of inscriptional and literary athletic epigrams may hold the key to understanding Callimachus’s decision to combine epinician praise with elegy. The death of Pindar signals the demise of epinician poetry as a lyric genre. There is no sufficient explanation for this sudden decline in interest. One may speculate that literary tastes changed and that this kind of praise of an indivudual was deemed to be excessive. Aristophanes’s Clouds (1352–1359) suggests that banquets offered a convenient performative context for the re-performance of older victory songs (in this case by Simonides).6 On the other hand, the only literary victory song we know of from the times after Pindar and Bacchylides was composed by Euripides for none other than Alcibiades.7 However we decide to treat this piece of information, we have to wait until the first half of the third century BCE to encounter again the genre in “full” bloom. Even if we were to postulate that the excessive praise inherent in the genre was unpalatable to Athenian democratic tastes, there is no explanation why this should be the case in cities with established aristocratic, tyrannical, or monarchical government. As we are going to see next, it is particularly the odes that Pindar composed for tyrants and kings that attracted the attention of Hellenistic epinician poets. Indeed, the Ptolemaic court in Alexandria offered the proper environment for transplanting this genre from the climate of mainland Greece to that of Egypt. Keeping in mind the amount of poetry that survives from the reign of the first three Ptolemies (approximately the first sixty years of the third century), epinician poetry is one of the  5 Cf. Thomas 2007. 6 PMG 507 = 16 Poltera: see Rawles 2013: 183–190; Currie 2018: 192–194. 7 PMG 755–56: see Bowra 1960; Gentili and Catenacci 2007: 364–366.

Introduction  21

best-represented genres. This revival, as the following discussion will show, relies on the socio-political ambience of the Ptolemaic court and the ideological apparatus of Ptolemaic monarchy. Alongside these two factors, one must also consider the influence of Pindaric poetry. Athletic games were a defining trait of Hellenic identity. Alexander celebrated his conquest of Egypt with athletic and music competitions.8 Ptolemies followed and fostered this tradition in their effort to boost their international profile and compete with other monarchies and cities in mainland Greece. Prior to the Ptolemaic rule, athletic institutions play a minimal role in pharaonic ideology.9 In this light, the use of athletic victories to convey the supreme role of the king of Egypt reflects a combination of pharaonic ideals with Hellenic institutions.10 Pindar’s poetic discourse comes the closest to the idea that best suited the needs of Ptolemaic court propaganda. It comes as no surprise then that the most successful poets at the court of the first Ptolemies turned to Pindar for inspiration. With the exception of Iamb 8, a unique case by any reckoning, Callimachus composed his epinician poems in elegiac couplets. We have two fragmentary elegies by Callimachus, one for the courtier Sosibius (frr. 384–384a Pf.), and the other for Queen Berenice II, the consort of Ptolemy III. To these two elegies, one might add as a third specimen the remnants of P. Horak 4.11 This is a fragmentary glossary on a lost elegy of Callimachus, potentially a victory poem written for a member of the royal family. Almost certainly these elegies derive from quite late in Callimachus’s career, probably under the reign of Ptolemy III and his consort, Berenice II.12 Posidippus’s Hippika suggest, by comparison, that Ptolemaic interest in securing and having athletic victories sung went back to the first Ptolemaic  8 Arrian Anab. 3.1.4. 9 Crowther 2010: 26. 10 Lehmann 1988; 2012. 11 Text and discussion in Menci 2004; D’Alessio 2007: vol. 2, 793–800. 12 If Sosibius is identified with the epitropos of Ptolemy V (Polybius 15.25.1), the elegy could be placed in the 240s BCE; see Herzog/Crusius 1924, Beloch 1927: 589, Coppola 1930: 291, Maas 1949: 448, Holleaux 1942: 51n.2, Cahen 1972: 92, D’Alessio 2007: vol. 2, 680–681, Lelli/Parlato 2008: 59; contra Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 2, 318. Sosibius’s daughter served as kanēphoros of Arsinoë II Philadelphos in 215–214 BCE; see Ijsewijn 1961: 33 for testimonia, Beloch 1927: 590 and Holleaux 1942: 51n2. For the importance of this priesthood in the third century see Fraser 1972: vol. 1, 217. Sosibius himself served as priest of Alexander in 235–234 BCE; Ijsewijn 1961: 29. R. Pfeiffer 1932: 220–224 considers the artificiality of the style as an indication of early date; cf. also Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 1, 181. For a judicious criticism of these arguments see Barigazzi 1951: 420– 421. For the tentative date of the elegy associated with P. Horak 4 in the 240s BCE, see the commentaries of Menci 2004 and D’Alessio 2007. Col I. fr. B.3 might allude to the third Syrian War (on which see Grainger 2010: 150–170), while Col. I fr. B.11 to the catasterism of Berenice II’s lock.

22  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies couple, Ptolemy I and his last wife Berenice I. The commissioning of full-scale elegies reflects in all probability the increased interest in exploiting this discourse in court circles. It is not coincidental in this light that Callimachus returns to Pindar, as the best representative of praise poetry, in order to resurrect the genre in a manner that would best meet the expectations of his patrons. To this group, also belong the epigrams that Posidippus of Pela composed in celebration of equestrian victories by the Ptolemies and other noble victors and the various representations of mythological victors such as Heracles, Polydeuces, and Jason, in Apollonius’s Argonautica. The ideological kinship between Callimachus’s elegies and Apollonius’s treatment of epinician themes suggests that the epic poet reflects contemporaneous literary trends and is thus an important testimony to the reception of Pindar.

Epinician κῶμοι: from Pindar to Callimachus (fr. 384.1–16 Pf.) The first two lines of the Victoria Sosibii are missing. The traces of the ancient comment on the left-side margin of POxy. 2258 fr. 2v(a) suggest that the first word in the second line was σπείσωμεν (“let us offer libations”). Pfeiffer compares the similar use of the verb in the opening lines of Pindar’s Isthmian 6 (7–9). The correspondence consists of the employment of the motif of libation at the incipit of an epinician ode.13 The linguistic allusion aside, the connection with the Pindaric text is also supported by examination of the analogous contexts (Isthm. 6.1–9).14 Pindar begins Isthmian 6 with a contextualizing mechanism which reflects, or even creates a textual representation of, the poem’s performative context.15 The setting is a banquet (1–7): symposiasts are feasting and celebrating the victory of young Phylacidas. The cupbearers mix wine and water in the big crater at the  13 For the memorability and importance of a poem’s incipit see Angeli Bernardini 1967: 81–82, Conte 1986: 70, Conte and Barchiesi 1989: 85 with n. 6, Cole 1992: 15, and Maslov 2015: 313. Although Pfeiffer does not elaborate, it should be remarked that Isthmian 6 is the only poem in the extant Pindaric, and epinician, corpus, where the verb is used, strengthening the possibility of a connection between the two poems. 14 Isthm. 6.37–8 is the only occurrence for the cognate σπονδή in the Pindaric corpus. For a discussion of the libation motif, which permeates the whole ode, see Bowra 1964: 23–26, Gianotti 1975: 58–59, Crotty 1982: 83, and especially Carne-Ross 1985: 44–45, 48–50. The epinician ode can also be represented as a funeral libation: see particularly Kurke 1991: 65–70 on Ol. 8.74–84, Pyth. 5.98–103, and Pyth. 9.103–105. 15 On the sympotic context in Pindar’s epinicians see Athanassaki 2016; J. Clay 1999; and Kurke 1991: 137–140 (especially Ol. 1.16–19; Nem. 9.48–53). Budelmann 2012 draws a distinction between κῶμος and symposium associating epinicians with the former and encomia with the latter.

Epinician κῶμοι: from Pindar to Callimachus (fr. 384.1–16 Pf.)  23

center of the room. Like the cupbearers, the poet imagines himself mixing in another crater (κίρναμεν, 3).16 But instead of water and wine this crater contains the songs of the Muses.17 Pindar combines the time-honored convention of the Muses as providers of poetic inspiration with the convivial (textual) reality of his performance and so creates an imposing image of the function of his poetry and his own role qua epinician poet within the putative, textual context of celebration. It is not easy to determine how this image relates to the actual performance.18 Even so, this image would have allowed, if it does not actually occasion, subsequent reperformances of the ode in a context that could meet this textual image (i.e., at a symposium).19 Pindar informs his audience that this is the second time he acts as cupbearer and eulogist for the illustrious family of Lampon. Phylacidas, Lampon’s son, had already made his family famous at the Nemean Games (4–5). As the scene unfolds, the performance of the ode is connected with the praise of the athlete’s family, a short catalogue of Phylacidas’s victories, and a prayer that Phylacidas may also win at the Olympic Games. This potential Olympic victory of Phylacidas would be another opportunity for Pindar to offer his praise poems as libations throughout Aegina (7–9). The wished-for Olympic victory is thus associated with the third libation to Zeus Soter at the symposium, strengthening the interaction between epinician and symposiastic imagery (7–8). The whole island is imagined participating in the epinician κῶμος (“celebration”) that brings the family of Lampon along with his co-citizens together in a communal offering of thanksgiving to Zeus, the divine ancestor of the local heroes.20 The sequence of images suggests that the celebrants headed by Pindar should be imagined pouring out from Lampon’s house to the streets of Aegina, singing the fame of the young victor. The boundaries between private and public are in effect effaced.21 These lines can help us understand better the way in which Callimachus articulates κῶμος as a performance scenario for Sosibius and, in so doing, provides unity to his elegy.

 16 Cf. also Isthmian 5.25; Nemean 3.78; fr. 181 Sn.-M. 17 For liquids as symbols of poetry, see Finley 1966: 52–53. 18 Salutary discussion of this topic in Spelman 2018: 19–27. 19 For the reperformance of Pindaric epinicians, see Herrington 1985: 48–50; Currie 2004, 2018; A.D. Morrison 2007a, 2012. 20 For κῶμος as the performative context of epinician poetry, see Agócs 2012; Budelmann 2012. 21 This distinction ought to not be pressed unduly. As Currie argues (2018: 205–208), the demarcation is not always clear and the middle path of “public symposium” is also conceivable.

24  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies Callimachus retains the image of the eulogist who offers his poem as a libation. This much is suggested by the traces at the end of line two (] ̣ ετελειο [).22 On the model of Pindar, Callimachus presents a performative scenario for his own epinician—the details of this remain, however, unclear because of the fragmentary state of the poem. Libation-offering makes it possible that Callimachus describes a banquet. But as it will appear from the following discussion, a different scenario can be entertained: the libations are taking place at the temple of Zeus at Pelusium. However this may be, Callimachus’s choice of opening technique suggests the importance of Pindaric discourse for the praise and celebration of Sosibius’s victories. It is not clear whether Callimachus’s scenario (or textual world) actually reflects a real banquet or if Callimachus creates an ideal and so imaginative performative context within which his readers (or audience?) are invited to read his poem.23 The representation of the epinician elegy as a libation offered to Zeus within a convivial setting helps Callimachus construct his relationship to Sosibius as one between members of the same symposiastic group— that is, it allows Callimachus to convey the friendly ties that unite poet and patron, reworking a traditional Pindaric motif.24 At the same time, the presence of Zeus as a recipient of Callimachus’s poetic libation conveys Zeus’s support for the victories Sosibius had won. What for Pindar is a prayer for a future Olympic victory is for Callimachus a fait accompli. Pindar uses the motif of poetry as libation to convey the ambition of the young athlete; the Nemean and Isthmian victories are the background that supports Phylacidas’s aspiration of an Olympic one. Callimachus reverses the structure: Sosibius is no longer a boy; he cannot entertain hopes of future athletic victories like Phylacidas. Inevitably, the enumeration of his victories, first at the Nemean and Isthmian Games, and then at epichoric contests, assumes the tone of a documentary account, typical of inscriptions, that explains why Sosibius is deemed worthy of such high honors. Answering Pindar’s prayer to Zeus, Callimachus presents a complete image of his laudandus from his very first victory at Athens and the Panathenaea as a youth to his most recent ones. This illustrious athletic record is brought into connection with Sosibius’s political carreer in that the kleos of his prowess spans the lengths of the Ptolemaic empire reunited with the dominion of Cyrene.

 22 D’Alessio 2007: vol. 2, 680 n. 11. Another possibility would be that there was a mention of the τέλειον ἅρμα; cf. Posid. AB 77.1, 78.13, 81.4. 23 Nisetich 2001: 290 n1 and especially Sevieri 1998: 196. 24 For the philotēs between the poet and the victor see Gundert 1935: 32–39 and Crotty 1982: 76– 79; cf. also e.g. Pyth. 1.60 and Pyth. 10.65–66 with Kurke 1991: 140–143.

Epinician κῶμοι: from Pindar to Callimachus (fr. 384.1–16 Pf.)  25

The celebrations for Sosibius follow the arrival of the victorious chariot very closely, triggering memories of Callimachus’s original reaction to the arrival of the news of Sosibius’s victory. The arrival of Sosibius’s chariot recalls and reenacts the arrival of the good news, a motif Callimachus also used in the proem of the Victoria Berenices. The parallel with the journey of the “golden news” of Berenice’s Nemean victory in the Victoria Berenices establishes the centrality of Alexandria at the network of poetic commerce. Good reports arrive there in the manner of valuable wares to be transformed into poetry. To highlight the prominence of Alexandria, Callimachus alters a traditional motif of the genre. In archaic epinicians, it is the poet who sends the poem25 or arrives at the victor’s home bringing the ode as a gift:26 in either case, the arrival of the poem with or without the poet signals the beginning of the celebrations.27 Callimachus goes against epinician tradition in representing himself as receiving and not sending the news of his laudandus’s victory (cf. also Victoria Berenices fr. 54.4–10 Harder = 143.4–10 Massimilla).28 Be that as it may, Callimachus retains the function of the arrival motif as a signal for the beginning of the celebrations: it is the victorious chariot that arrives at the place of the performance and so signals the beginning of the epinician proper. The arrival of the chariot causes the poet to repeat what he exclaimed when he first heard the news of Sosibius’s victory, without specifying any further the details of the victory. Similarly, in Pindar’s Nemean 1 (7), the victorious chariot of Chromius and the announcement of his victory prompt the poet to start singing: ἅρμα δ’ ὀτρύνει Χρομίου Νεμέα | τ’ ἔργμασιν νικαφόροις ἐγκώμιον ζεῦξαι μέλος (“the chariot of Chromius and Nemea stir me | to yoke together the praise song with victorious deeds”).29 In both cases, the chariot of the victor holds a metapo-

 25 e.g. Pindar Pythian 2.67–68; Nemean 3.76–78; Bacchylides 5.10–14, 195–197. For a detailed discussion see Tedeschi 1985 and Gelzer 1985: 99–101. 26 e.g. Nemean 6.57b–59; 4.73–74. Cf. Spelman 2018: 23–24. 27 See Bundy 1986: 27–28 with ample documentation, Maehler 1963: 87 with n. 7, Tedeschi 1985: 30–31, especially 50–54, and Schmid 1998: 172. Nünlist 1998: 69–80 gives a detailed survey of this motif in archaic poetry. 28 Fuhrer 1992: 177; Nünlist 1998: 76 n. 19. For the difference between sending and receiving the news of the victory, see Crotty 1982: 83. Callimachus could also follow Bacchylides 2 (1, ἄϊξον … ἐς Κέον ἱεράν). 29 In Nem. 9.3–5, also for Chromius, the mounting of the victorious chariot is the condition for the poet to command the Muses to begin the song and the celebration; cf. Ol. 4.10–11. Simonides’s fr. 4.12 Poltera mentions a δίφρος which probably belongs to the goddess of victory; Poltera 2008 ad loc. and §2 p. 277. This motif could well be an epinician convention as argued by Maehler

26  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies etic role analogous to that of the chariot of the Muses, an image of poetic inspiration that both Pindar and Callimachus (especially Aetia I fr. 1.27–28 Harder = Massimilla) use in their poetry.30 Thus the arrival of Sosibius’s chariot becomes the occasion for Callimachus to reperform his first epinician for Sosibius, a Hymn in honor of Poseidon. Unlike the chariot of the Muses or that of Chromius in Nemean 1, Sosibius’s chariot does not provide Callimachus with factual knowledge pertaining to Sosibius’s victory (i.e., the news of the victory) but brings memory of Callimachus’s previous impromptu composition. Callimachus is represented as an actor in the metanarrative he has fashioned to describe the creation of his elegy for Sosibius and his voluntary involvement in the celebration of his victory. The technique is well-known from Pindaric passages such as Olympian 10.1–8 and Isthmian 1.1– 10, where the poet constructs a narrative about the prehistory of his ode and its performance.31 This dual focalization, as Schmid (1998: 177–179) points out, allows the epinician poet to give a picture of the epinician poem from the moment of its composition until the homecoming of the athlete; in this manner, the epinician poet contextualizes his role against the background of epinician celebrations, stressing his involvement therein. The description of the process gives a glimpse of the poet’s efforts for the composition of the ode and underlines the quality of the poetic artifact offered to the victor and the community. Claiming center stage as the first to react to the good news, Callimachus strengthens the ties of friendship with his patron. The mannerism is traditional and seems to recall Pindaric technique. Pindar can describe the reaction of the victor’s friends back home to the news of his victory (Olympian 4.5–6) or represent himself as rejoicing at the news of the victory (Pythian 7.18). If Callimachus has such passages in mind, as it seems reasonable to assume, he is trying to represent himself as one of Sosibius’s friends and suggest to his readers the epinician image of guest-friendship between poet and victor as Pindar had done before him.32

 1963: 92n1. Still it is found fully fledged only in Pindaric poetry; see Jebb 1905: ad 5.176–178 and Gianotti 1975: 66 with n. 97. 30 Pyth. 10.63–66; Isthm. 8.61; cf. Simpson 1969: 439–440 and Angeli Bernardini 1995a on Pyth. 10.63–66. The image is Indo-European in its origin (cf. M.L. West 2007: 41–45) and is found only once in Bacchylides (5.176–178); for its influence in classical comedy see Mastromarco 1987: 85–88. Instead of ἅρμα one may also find δίφρος (cf. Ol. 9.81; Isthm. 2.2) or a circumlocution such as σθένος ἡμιόνων (Ol. 6.22). See also Bowra 1953: 41–42, Simpson 1969: 439 n. 4, and Loscalzo 2003: 122. 31 Schmid 1998: 154 n. 20. 32 Kurke 1991: 136, who compares Ol. 4.5–6 with Herodotus 7.237.3, and Athanassaki 2009: 266.

Epinician κῶμοι: from Pindar to Callimachus (fr. 384.1–16 Pf.)  27

In an interesting twist of conventional roles, the victorious chariot is connected first with poetic inspiration (i.e., the composition of the hymn to Poseidon) and secondly with intertextual memory (i.e., the embedding or reworking of the hymn in the elegy), replacing in this way the position traditionally held by Mnemosyne and her daughters. Callimachus emphasizes that he is repeating or quoting what he exclaimed when news first reached him: in this light the current performance turns out to be a memorialization of Callimachus’s early poem, which is thus preserved by being committed to writing and being included in the “frame-elegy” Callimachus has fashioned for the present occasion. The reason for this mannerism is that it enables Callimachus to parallel Sosibius’s commemoration of his victory through an ex voto at the temple of Zeus. Sosibius offers an inscribed object, and this act parallels Callimachus’s offering an epinician inscribed into the fabric of his elegy. From this angle, Callimachus’s elegiac verses become the vehicle through which memory is vouchsafed to splendid attainments such as Sosibius’s victories. The hymn to Poseidon was originally an impromptu composition later incorporated in Callimachus’s elegy, or at least this is the idea that Callimachus is trying to convey.33 In a mimetic (epinician) poem such as this, the textual version of the performance of the first epinician is the only indication within the poem along with the κῶμοι at lines 38 and 49 that suggests to the reader the performance of Hellenistic epinicians in the (obsolete) tradition of archaic lyric.34 In the Victoria Berenices the description of the arrival of the news about Berenice’s Nemean victory is followed by the description of the ritual mourning for the sacred Apis bull by Colchian women. It is unclear how one is to construe the sequence of these scenes in the proem of that elegy. It has been suggested by Parsons (1977: 11) that the second scene offers a ritualized context for the celebration of Berenice’s victory. In view of the close association of the cult of Apis (Sarapis) with the sovereign,35 Berenice’s victory could be connected with the public representation of the Ptolemies on religious occasions.36 Similarly, Posidippus (AB 78) represents Queen Arsinoë II as addressing the Macedonians encouraging them to participate  33 For “improvisation” in this context, see Gelzer 1985: 109. Budelmann (2018: 45–47) discusses examples of such “past performances” or “preperformances” in Pindar. 34 See Sevieri’s 1998: 196–200 discussion. 35 Ptolemy III Eurgetes constructed in Alexandria a monumental temple in honor of Apis; cf. Borgeaud and Volokhine 2000: 56, Bergmann 2010: 112–113. During the reign of Ptolemy IV Philopator, Sarapis was represented as temple-sharing god with the king and his consort Arsinoë III. The special connection that Ptolemy IV felt with Sarapis could be associated with his victory at the battle of Raphia; cf. Bergmann 2010: 115–117, 127–128. 36 Kampakoglou 2013a: 134–135.

28  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies in the celebration of her kleos. Does this include a performance of any kind? It is difficult to say. Against the background offered by these parallels, Callimachus represents himself as taking part in an unofficial celebration of Sosibius’s victory before the more formal welcome of the victorious chariot-team. On the other hand, one can also compare Callimachus’s epinician hymn to Poseidon with the epinician hymn to Heracles traditionally attributed to Archilochus (fr. 324 W.2). Callimachus alludes to Archilochus through Pindar’s lens at line 39. Perhaps, we are meant to admire Callimachus’s reaction against this background, which leads to a new hymn rather than the usual, ready-made one. The parallel with Pindar’s Olympian 9 is perhaps strengthened when we consider that both Callimachus and Pindar incorporate the unofficial older performances in their final praise poems and use them as foils to prove the superiority of their finalized song presented in the current performance.37 This metanarrative about the composition of this elegy parallels in an intriguing fashion Callimachus’s composition of other elegies. For instance, it is well known that the Coma Berenices circulated originally as an autonomous poem before being incorporated into the Aetia. Mutatis mutandis, this is what Callimachus’s metanarrative also suggests: an independent epinician elegy is incorporated into the more standard, and finalized, text of the elegy.38 Pindaric practice can shed light on Callimachus’s mannerism here: Pindar includes embedded songs in odes, whether this is Archilochus’s hymn to Heracles in the opening lines of Olympian 9 or the song the Muses sang at the wedding of Peleias to Thetis in Nemean 3. In a following chapter, we shall also examine the case of inscribed stones presented in Pindar’s discourse. This interaction with other performative genres (e.g. dirges, wedding songs) or media of (epinician) celebration extends the effectiveness of Pindar’s praise discourse by imbuing it with a monumental character. Inasmuch as Pindar’s victory songs can incorporate other praise forms, they demonstrate their superiority as the genre of praise par excellence. Repeating Pindar’s device, Callimachus is trying to establish his own credentials as the supreme Hellenistic praise poet. The possibility that Callimachus is trying to achieve a similar effect to that of Pindar, albeit through different means, is supported not only by the very structure of the elegy, but also by the pointed allusion to the strongly metapoetic incipit of Olympian 9 later in the Victoria Sosibii. In addition to this reference to Pindar’s take on Archilochus as his predecessor, one should also point out that  37 Agócs 2012: 212–216; Budelmann 2018: 47. 38 Aetia fr. 7.13–14 Pf. = Harder bespeaks Callimachus’s hope in the longevity of his Aetia. See Acosta-Hughes 2010: 178 for a similar “game” in the opening lines of the Victoria Berenices.

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Callimachus’s elegy for Sosibius combines different devices of epinician praise: documentary information typical of epinician inscriptions, hymns (cf. the hymn to Apollo’s lyre in Pythian 1),39 inscriptions, ex voto offerings, political encomium, and an embedded performance. Callimachus registers the various means of conferring fame on his laudandus, and in so doing he also demonstrates the vast possibilities of his art. The form of hymn (to Poseidon), which this impromptu epinician assumes, is modeled on those Pindaric epinicians which begin with a hymnic address to a deity, whether the tutelary god of the games or of the athlete’s home, or else assume the form of a hymn, like Olympian 12 or 14. The opening address to Poseidon looks back to, and is juxtaposed with, the libation to Zeus at the opening of the elegy. The embedded poem mirrors the structure of the frame. Pindar also provides cases of embedded songs in his epinicians. Carne-Ross (1985: 113), for instance, suggests that Nemean 4.17–24 is part of the song of the victor’s deceased father, while Nemean 5.25–39 is the song of the Muses, included in the mythological part of the poem. Still, Olympian 9.1–4 places improvised praise poems in situ right after the victory.40 In this sense Callimachus’s epinician is, in terms of genre tradition, “misplaced” at the athlete’s home instead of the place of the games. In his discussion of hymnic openings, Burton (1962: 92) remarks that “Pindar’s hymn-openings reveal a fairly close connection between the power addressed and the content of the ode.” What would the relevance of Poseidon be? The selection of Poseidon in the Victoria Sosibii is to a certain degree occasioned by the games in which Sosobius’s chariot-team participated. It is further possible that the association of the Isthmian Games with Poseidon is connected with the inclusion of the Nile later on in the poem. The Nile participates in the praise of the victor. He represents Sosibius’s prize (γέρας) as the reward due to himelf for his upbringing (θρεπτός).41 The Nile prides himself on the obscurity of his sources and the inability of women and children to transverse him without toil. But the relevance of these lines for the praise of Sosibius is contested. Pfeiffer (1949–1953: vol. 1, 316 on lines 33–34) suggests that the Nile associates the ebbing of his waters with Sosibius’s victory as a means to praise Sosibius’s victory. In addition, the Nile could have also witnessed the κῶμος that led to the consecration of Sosibius’s ex voto at the temple of Zeus at

 39 Further examples can be found in Burton 1962: 92. 40 Gelzer 1985: 96–97. 41 The kourotrophic relationship between the Nile and Sosibius artfully follows after that of Opheltes and Hypsipyle (26).

30  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies Pelusium (πὰρ ποδὶ … Νείλου | νειατίῳ).42 If this is really so, lines 46–49 are quite likely spoken by the river himself and not Callimachus. But even if this were the case, the Nile’s voice would be subsumed into that of Callimachus quoting him. By quoting the river god, Callimachus would be imagined as if he had been present along with him as a participant in the celebrations.43 So far, we have established that the celebratory context—the κῶμος, that is— for the victories of Sosibius bears similarities to the descriptions we find in Pindaric songs—particularly Isthmian 6. As we saw above, the putative symposium in which Pindar’s ode for Phylacidas is composed leads to an imaginary joyous revel around Aegina. A similar festive pattern permeates the fragments of Callimachus’s elegy, providing the poem with a sense of unity. The Victoria Sosibii is offered as libation to Zeus. The “descriptive” context is not specified,44 and on the force of the analogy with Isthmian 6 I have raised the possibility of a banquet. In addition to the libations, Callimachus envisages an additional “descriptive” context, which assumes the form of a κῶμος that leads to the temple of Zeus at Pelusium and the consecration of an offering on behalf of Sosibius.45 The actual connection of this act to the banquet and performance of the elegy is not specified, but one has to assume that it belongs to a previous temporal level before the banquet.46 Nonetheless, mentally, at least, those present are asked to follow Callimachus back in time and participate in that κῶμος at Pelusium, which thus offers the background for the symposium in which Callimachus participates. This

 42 As Pfeiffer notes ad loc., by Κασίη ἅλς Callimachus probably means the lake Sirbonis (Barrington Atlas, map 70 C.3), near the Κάσιον ὄρος (see RE 1919 s.v.2. 2264) and east of Pelusium. 43 This could be seen as a kind of “poetic delegation”; for the term, see Calame 2012: 316. 44 For the distinction between “descriptive” and “performative” contexts, see Yatromanolakis 2004: 62; Agócs 2012: 193. 45 The context of the celebration in Callimachus’s text is indicated obliquely through the adjective ἐπίκωμος. Pace Pfeiffer, the adjective does not mean “among the people” (as if composed of ἐπί and κώμη in the meaning of ἐπίδημος). More likely, Callimachus, or whoever is speaking, says “I saw for myself the offering, which he made at the outermost branch of the mouth of the Nile, participating in a κῶμος near the Casian Sea”. Ancient authors consistently use this word in a convivial context: e.g., Aristias (TrGF1 fr. 9 Snell), Plutarch (Conv. sept. sap. 148B2; An seni 784B8; De Is. et Os. 357F 6; De tranq. anim. 472D5) Triphiodorus Halosis Iliou 561; Hesychius s.v. 4916). See also Fuhrer 1992: 166n639. Pindar uses the cognates ἐγκώμιος and ἐπικώμιος to refer to the performance of his odes; see Agócs 2012: 194–96, 221–222. Callimachus could thus establish a connection with Pindar’s komastic language to convey his praise. 46 If Zeus was indeed mentioned in the proem of the Victoria Sosibii, it could be that Callimachus began his elegy in the middle of the libation to Zeus supposed to take place at his temple only to mention this location again at the end of the poem.

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seems to be true whether the person speaking is Callimachus or the Nile. The parallel with Isthmian 6 is clear: in both cases a symposiastic frame leads to an imaginary, or in the case of Callimachus remembered, κῶμος in which the speaking person participates. The presence of “the poem as libation” motif would strengthen the connection between the two poems. Callimachus, or the Nile, has witnessed the κῶμος at Pelusium in which he participated. Like Pindar before him, Callimachus presents himself taking part in the post-victory celebrations for the victor. As we have already seen, the celebrations for the laudandus’s victory can take the form of a banquet, where the poet is present (cf. especially Nemean 1.19–24; Olympian 1.14–17), or of a festive procession, which leads eventually to a banquet (cf. especially Nemean 9.1–3),47 or in the case of Isthmian 6 from an indoors celebration to the streets of the city. In all these cases, the poet celebrates the victor’s generosity and hospitality. His presence in the celebrations is the best illustration of these attributes: he is the winner’s xenos and his ode is an expression of his gratitude (χάρις) for his patron’s generosity.48 Despite the ambiguity surrounding the details of the κῶμος at Pelusium, we know that very often the victorious athletes lead processions to altars where they dedicate their crowns. Callimachus describes, in all probability, a similar procession to the temple of Zeus. However, the exact nature of the offering is not specified save for the fact that it bears an inscription. Pindar’s association of κῶμος with ritual offerings suggests a plausible parallel for Callimachus. Time and again Pindar references the celebratory frame in which his poem is performed, representing it as an offering that parallels that of the victor to a god.49 A remarkable parallel concerns Olympian 4. The victor, Psaumis, is imagined returning home to Camarina on his chariot, bearing the Olympic wreath. Pindar addresses Zeus, entreating him to receive both victor and Pindar’s κῶμος (τόνδε κῶμον, 9). As Agócs (2012: 211) explains, the ritual coincides with the performance of the poem. If Psaumis means to dedicate his wreath to Zeus, the wreath parallels Pindar’s ode. Consideration of Olympian 4 might suggest a different scenario about Callimachus’s κῶμος to that presented up to this point. Like Psaumis, Sosibius could arrive on his chariot to the place where Callimachus offers his libations. The parallel with Pindar’s ode could also suggest that both Callimachus and Sosibius arrive at the temple of Pelusium, where eventually the consecration of Sosibius’s

 47 Pace Eckerman (2010: 305), κωμάζω in this context could imply movement from Sicyon to Aetna. This would suggest celebration in the form of procession, imaginary though it may be. 48 Kurke 1991: 135–159. 49 Agócs 2012: 205–212.

32  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies offering—perhaps his chariot—will take place. Thus the elegy starts and ends in a ring. The κῶμος has led to the temple where Callimachus performs his elegy. More important, the consecration of an ex voto at the temple of Zeus creates a link with the libation to Zeus at the opening line. In effect, Callimachus’s offering parallels that of Sosibius. What is perhaps also interesting is that Callimachus invests Sosibius’s offering with metaliterary implications since it has an athletic epigram—a variant form of epinician praise—inscribed on it.50 Recalling first-person expressions in agonistic epigrams, the consecrated item is presented speaking and tells its story:51 it was carried to Egypt from Cyprus on board a Phoenician merchant-boat.52 The inset epigram alludes to Pindar’s Pythian 2.67–68:53 (τόδε μὲν κατὰ Φοίνισσαν ἐμπολάν | μέλος ὑπὲρ πολιᾶς ἁλὸς πέμπεται). Pythian 2, probably, celebrates an unspecified chariot-race victory of Hieron.54 In the lines quoted above Pindar’s epinician is sent overseas to Hieron onboard a Phoenician ship. In the same way the offering and the inscribed epigram have come to Egypt from Cyprus on board a Phoenician ship. The ship is a variant of the arrival motif bringing news of the victory to the laudandus’s home.55 One should also note the analogy between the media of praise: song juxtaposed with an offering inscribed with an epigram. At the same time, Pythian 2 suggests the maritime supremacy of Syracuse. Hieron’s navy can vouchsafe the safety of the poet during his journey, keeping at bay the danger of pirates threatening commercial growth. Furthermore, Hieron’s navy is the means whereby the Panhellenic poetry of Pindar travels to Greek colonies.56 Similarly in Callimachus’s epigram the mention of Cyprus could suggest the power of the Ptolemaic navy and Ptolemaic interest in Cyprus and in the Mediterranean as a whole. Callimachus replaces the word ἐμπολάν with the rarer—and perhaps Phoenician—word γαῦλος. This erudite note could also indicate Ptolemaic interest in Phoenicia and  50 Only the first line of the inscription survives. As Fuhrer 1992: 166–168 argues, there is no reason to posit that Sosibius had won victories at games on Cyprus or near Pelusium. 51 Ebert 1972: 21. Callimachus’s epigram finds no parallel in Ebert’s collection. The speaking tomb of Simonides in Aetia 3 fr. 64 Harder = fr. 163 Massimilla is another case of an inscribed epigram included in a larger text; Acosta-Hughes 2010: 171–173, A.D. Morrison 2013. 52 Sosibius’s offering is not identified. Trypanis (1958: 240–211 note a) suggests that it is a chariot—cf. Pindar Pyth. 5.35; Posidippus AB 74.12–13. For epigrams inscribed on equestrian monuments representing the horse team or the chariot with or without the driver see Ebert 1972: 9–10 and Angeli Bernardini 1992: 972. Alcibiades commissioned a sculptor to create a statue representing him on the chariot: cf. Pliny N.H. 34.8.80. 53 For these lines, see Tedeschi 1985: 32–35; Calame 2012: 314–317. 54 Bowra 1953: 69, Burton 1962: 111–115, Lloyd-Jones 1990a: 124–125, Lefkowitz 1976: 164–170. 55 Tedeschi 1985: 32–33; Gentili 1995 ad 62–3. Compare also Pindar’s Nem. 5.2–5. 56 For a similar allusion to Aeginitan commerce in Nemean 5, see Fearn 2013: 242–243.

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the contemporary rivalry between the Ptolemies and the Seleucids over Koile Syria. Bearing this interpretation in mind, we can return to the hymn to Poseidon and examine its Ptolemaic relevance. In court poetry Poseidon appears again in one of Posidippus’s lithika (AB 20), where the poet prays to the god to protect the land and shore of Ptolemy II Philadelphus from earthquakes.57 Possibly similar connotations could be read into the presence of both Poseidon and the Nile in the Victoria Sosibii as well: the benevolence of these aquatic deities towards an official of King Ptolemy III Euergetes presupposes, or translates in the specific sociopolitical ambience as, Poseidon’s benevolence towards the Ptolemaic empire. There is evidence to suggest that the Ptolemies, and especially Ptolemy III Euergetes, tried to associate the annual flooding of the Nile with their divine and beneficent hypostasis. First, with his failed attempt at revising the official calendar and second with the apotheosis of his daughter Berenice who was identitifed with Tefnut and through her with Sothis (= Sirius).58 Line 27 makes a clear reference to the annual rising of the Nile and its importance for the sustainability of life in Egypt. Sosibius’s victory is associated with this phenomenon. The Ptolemies wished to underline their positive role by associating their actions with the creation of water sources that could sustain new life. Similarly, the birth of Zeus in the first hymn of Callimachus creates rivers, and this could reflect the annual inundation of the Nile, as Stephens (2003: 98–100) has insightfully suggested. In the fourth book of the Argonautica (1449, 1458–1459), Heracles, the forefather of the Ptolemies, saves and benefits the Argonauts by creating a spring in the middle of the Cyrenean desert. In its broad outlines the κῶμος that Callimachus envisages for the performance of his elegy bears strong similarities in technique and motifs to Pindar’s epinicians. Like Pindar before him, Callimachus stresses the ritual overtones of the komastic context not only to convey the divine support enjoyed by Sosibius, and by extension the Ptolemies, but also to invest his own elegy with the authority of divine sanction, promoting his status as a praise poet at the Ptolemaic court. The execution is Pindaric through and through as is also the poetic confidence that Callimachus conveys regarding his position in the history of the genre. The lacunose state of the Victoria Sosibii does not allow us to choose between the scenarios suggested by Pindaric odes such as Isthmian 6 or Olympian 4. Nonetheless, the Pindaric influence is almost certain. The examination of the “descriptive” context of Callimachus’s elegy for Queen Berenice II lends strength to this conclusion. As the elegy for Sosibius, the Victoria Berenices also contains an opening  57 For the cult of Poseidon in Ptolemaic Alexandria, see Visser 1938: 30. 58 Kampakoglou 2013a: 132, 138; 2013b: 322 with bibliography.

34  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies scene of Pindaric inspiration, centering on a motif central to the economy of Pindaric kleos—the theme of love. Developing the technique we found in the Victoria Sosibii, Callimachus adapts this Pindaric theme to the demands of Ptolemaic ideology and imagery.

An Εpinician for a Queen: the Sexual Politics of Praise The discussion of the Victoria Sosibii has shown that this elegy opens with a contextualizing scene, which suggests that the elegy is offered as a libation to Zeus in Sosibius’s honor. The Victoria Berenices opens with a similar contextualizing mechanism, which this section examines. Callimachus represents this elegy as a wedding gift (ἕδνον) offered on behalf of the victor—intriguingly called νύμφα either “bride” or “nymph”—to Zeus and Nemea: Ζηνί τε καὶ Νεμέῃ τι χαρίσιον ἕδνον ὀφείλω. The designation of the elegy as χαρίσιον not only looks back to the epinician employment of the concept of χάρις, as suggested by Pfeiffer, but further underlines the ritualized aspect of the transaction by recalling previous uses of χαρίσιον for offerings to the gods.59 Before Callimachus, χαρίσιον appears in poetry only in the fragments of Aristophanes (fr. 211.2 K.-A.) and Eubulus (fr. 1.3 K.-A.). However, in both cases it denotes a sort of sacrificial cake or bread.60 Despite the obvious difference in usage, the substantivized use of χαρίσιον in comedy can help us understand the ritual side of the relationship that Callimachus posits for the offering of the Victoria Berenices. The ensuing image suggests that a ritual offering is taking place, against the background of which Callimachus represents the celebration of Berenice’s Nemean victory. Furthermore, the address to Berenice II as νύμφα and the description of the elegy as ἕδνον contextualizes this sacrifice within a wedding ceremony.61 Sacrifices, called proteleia, were offered by both the groom and the bride to a variety of gods and goddesses (e.g., Artemis, Aphrodite, Hera etc.) during the

 59 See R. Pfeiffer 1949–1953: vol. 1, 308 on line 1; Corbato 1980: 241, Massimilla 2010: 226, and Harder 2012: vol. 2, 395 ad loc. For χάρις in Pindar’s poetry see Gundert 1935: 30–32 and Kurke 1991: 154–155 and passim. 60 See Hunter 1983 on Eubulus fr. 2(b). See also Chantraine 1999: 1247 and Frisk 1970: 1063. 61 For the wedding ceremony in classical Athens see Oakley/Sinos 1993. However, the Homeric significance of ἕδνα as the gifts given to the father-in-law or to the bride by the groom does not fit the contex of Callimachus’s poem. One needs to take ἕδνον here, more generally, as a textual marker of the occasion for the embedded textual performance.

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three days that weddings usually lasted in classical Athens.62 Specifically, sacrifices were offered on the second day before the wedding feast, which also included entertainment in the form of songs. In light of what we know about classical weddings, I argue that Callimachus situates the Victoria Berenices on such an occasion: the Victoria Berenices is a wedding offering on behalf of the bride by Callimachus. In this manner, the Victoria Berenices offers the “female” version of the technique with which the elegy for Sosibius opens. Callimachus merges the celebrations for Berenice’s Nemean victory with the rituals for her wedding to Ptolemy III. The wedding ceremony highlights the transition of a woman from the status of παρθένος (“unmarried girl”) to that of γυνή (“married woman”) through the liminal phase of νύμφη (“bride”). The wedding rites facilitate and enact the relocation of the bride from her father’s oikos to that of her husband and her introduction to the latter’s family. By addressing Berenice II as νύμφα, Callimachus recreates the transition of Berenice II from her home at Cyrene into the royal family at Alexandria. Similarly, the arrival of the χρύσεον ἔπος (“golden word”) at line six parallels the arrival of the bride in the groom’s home. This interpretation allows us to see that the allusion to the θεοὶ ἀδελφοί at line two is rhetorically motivated by the wedding imagery introduced in the first line (κα[σιγνή]τ̣ ων ἱερὸν αἷμα θεῶν, “sacred blood of the Sibling Gods”). Berenice’s public image suggests her as a warrior-like princess, and we know that Callimachus praises her interference in war activity at least once in the Elegia in Magam et Berenicen (frr. 385–391 Pf.).63 In the manner of Cyrene, the nymph of her homeland, in Pythian 9, Berenice makes the transition to a new home and status by marrying a divine consort. The acquisition of the new status is put into perspective by ἱερὸν αἷμα θεῶν. That is, by associating the victory at the Nemea with her wedding to Ptolemy III Eurgetes, Callimachus can successfully uphold the propaganda of incestuous consanguinity between the two spouses. By winning at Nemea, Berenice expresses her φυά (“nature”) which is also that of Heracles and her husband. Callimachus twists the epinician theme into agreement with Ptolemaic imagery. Berenice II is both a victor and a bride, and the duality of her role is finely represented by the wreath she has won, the origins of which Callimachus narrates in this elegy. Both literature and pictorial representations agree that the bride and the groom were wreathed.64 Pindar very often dwells on the marriage prospects of his victor. Callimachus conflates the two discourses,

 62 Oakley/Sinos 1993: 11–16. 63 Kampakoglou 2013a: 118–120 with references. 64 Oakley/Sinos 1993: 11, 12; index s.v.

36  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies representing Berenice’s wreath in an ambiguous light.65 The sequence of thought suggested here explains not only the mention of the θεοὶ ἀδελφοί but also the subsequent transition to Argive figures like Danaos to whom Berenice was also related by descent through Heracles. In light of this, the victory of Berenice is associated with her marriage to Ptolemy III, offering a close analogue for the representation of winning an athletic victory as marrying a beautiful maiden. As we are going to see next, both in its theme and structure the mythological part of the Victoria Berenices imitates Pindar’s Olympian 3. The ritual associated with Pindar’s ode might suggest a similar “performative” context for Callimachus’s elegy, a context which could occasion and contribute to the efficacy of the wedding imagery of the opening lines. Olympian 3 celebrates the chariot victory of Theron of Acragas in 476 BCE. The manuscript tradition suggests that the celebration of the ode coincided with the theoxenia for the Dioscuri and Helen. Even though this contextualization might be dismissed as pure speculation, Ferrari (2012: 160–163) has convincingly associated it with a discussion dating back to the Alexandrian scholars Aristarchus and Didymus. This would make it almost certain that for Hellenistic readers, potentially even for Callimachus, Olympian 3 could have been performed in the theoxenia.66 Could it be that Callimachus’s elegy was performed in a similar ritual, intended this time for Heracles? We know that Heracles was also honored with theoxenic rituals, and this connection reverberates in myths in which he seeks hospitality (e.g. Alcestis).67 In fact, as Patricia Rosenmeyer (1991; 1993) has shown, the Victoria Berenices includes such a myth of humble hospitality offered by Molorcus to Heracles. In an epinician context, one notable example is Pindar’s Isthmian 6. This ode narrates Heracles’s arrival on Salamis during the wedding feast of Telamon. A similar combination of marriage rituals with the theoxenic reception of Heracles is also known from the fourth-century Coan cult of Heracles Diomedonteios (Iscr. di Cos ED 149). The combination could reflect a similar arrangement for Berenice as well. Unfortunately, the circumstances of Berenice II’s wedding to Ptolemy III are not known and so this suggestion cannot be substantiated. However, the juxtaposition of the mythological part and the frame implies that the dinner that follows Heracles’s successful killing of the Nemean lion parallels that for Berenice’s Nemean victory and, on account of the marital imagery used in the opening lines, that for her marriage to Ptolemy III.

 65 For wedding and epinician wreaths, see also Blech 1982: 75–81, 109–177. 66 Krummen 2014: 253–78. For theoxenies, see Flückiger–Guggenheim 1984; Jameson 2014, 162–163, 170–172. 67 Kampakoglou 2013a: 134–139.

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The opening of Callimachus’s elegy for the Ptolemaic queen reflects an important episode in the chronicles of the reigning dynasty. This marriage sealed the re-annexation of Cyrene to the Ptolemaic empire. At the same time, the evidence other court poems, particularly the Coma Berenices, provide suggests that the eros uniting the royal couple was a staple theme of their public representation with a symbolic bearing on the stability of the realm.68 Theocritus’s Encomium of Ptolemy Philadelphus (38–42, 128–34) confirms the importance of this motif, projecting it onto the parents of Ptolemy II. It thus appears that the opening of Callimachus’s second epinician reflects the exigencies of the public image of his patron. It was suggested above that this tactic was usually supported by referencing a similar device in Pindar’s epinician discourse. This double maneuvre establishes Callimachus’s connection with tradition but also nods to the ideological demands of the court. The examination of Pindaric epinicians does afford evidence of such a double nature. On the one hand, Pindar can provide us with a marital descriptive context that contextualizes the epinician song. On the other, eros permeates Pindar’s epinicians describing an array of ideas from determination and desire to win to divine support. This imagery is pivotal to Callimachus’s discourse in the Victoria Berenices. The examination of the similar contexualizing device offered by the proem of Pindar’s Olympian 7 will help put Callimachus’s imitation of Pindar into perspective. Φιάλαν ὡς εἴ τις ἀφνειᾶς ἀπὸ χειρὸς ἑλών ἔνδον ἀμπέλου καχλάζοισαν δρόσῳ δωρήσεται νεανίᾳ γαμβρῷ προπίνων οἴκοθεν οἴκαδε, πάγχρυσον, κορυφὰν κτεάνων, συμποσίου τε χάριν κᾶδός τε τιμάσαις έον, ἐν δὲ φίλων παρεόντων θῆκέ νιν ζαλωτὸν ὁμόφρονος εὐνᾶς· καὶ ἐγὼ νέκταρ χυτόν, Μοισᾶν δόσιν, ἀεθλοφόροις ἀνδράσιν πέμπων, γλυκὺν καρπὸν φρενός, ἱλάσκομαι Ὀλυμπίᾳ Πυθοῖ τε νικώντεσσιν· As when one takes in his hand a golden bowl bubbling inside with the vine’s dew and gifts it to his young son-in-law toasting his health  68 Gutzwiller 1992; L. Rossi 2000.

(4) (5) (5)

(10)

38  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies from one household to the other, pure gold, the choicest possession; and having honored the grace of the banquet and the new relation, in the midst of his friends made him enviable on account of his harmonious consort; so I, sending to prize-winning men poured nectar, the Muses’ gift, the sweet fruit of my mind, seek the grace of the gods for those victorious at Olympia and Delphi.

Just like Isthmian 6, Olympian 7 opens with a convivial atmosphere. Pindar juxtaposes two images. In the first, an unspecified subject (τις), probably the bride’s father, gives a beautiful gift to his young son-in-law: a golden cup (φιάλαν) filled with wine; the donation is accompanied by praise that adds to the joy of the symposium and honors the new relationship established (4–5). The toast and gift have a symbolic purport: they establish the relation between the two households, formally signalling the transition of the maiden from one house to the other. As a result, the groom’s friends envy him on account of his soon-to-be wife. Several elements in the description of the groom suggest parallels with Pindar’s usual reprsentation of victors. In addition, the image testifies to another Pindaric modality: the usual parallel between wives (εὐνᾶς) and precious prizes (φιάλαν). The attainment of both is acknowledged by the discourse of praise (τιμάσαις). Finally, the gathering transpires in a convivial setting that often relates to epinician celebrations. When we pass to the self-referential part of the proem, Pindar tries to match his activity with parts of the previous scene. Pindar asks gods to bless those who have won in the Olympic and Pythian Games (ἱλάσκομαι). In this regard, Pindar’s prayer to the gods parallels the gift and honor of the unnamed τις to the groom. Second, Pindar offers a gift of his own: the Muses’ nectar, sweet fruit of his mind. As in Isthmian 6, Pindar refers to his song as a libation that here accompanies his thanksgiving to the gods who graced the laudandus with victory. In addition, nectar seems to imply the almost immortalizing effect Pindar’s praise has on the victor. Some elements of the juxtaposition remain unspelled: Pindar’s praise also renders the victor ζαλωτός. The gnomae in lines 11–12 suggest as much, recalling the transcience of the bliss that the mortal victor currently enjoys. The details of the simile suggested by the opening in Olympian 7 are analogous to those in Callimachus’s poem. Olympian 7 functions like the most precious of gifts, a golden cup filled with wine to the brim. Similarly, Pindar offers the nectar of the Muses. His role parallels that of the bride’s father, while the victor recalls the happy groom. Still, what is important here is the analogy between the two contexts of performance and the representation of the victor as a groom, both

An Εpinician for a Queen: the Sexual Politics of Praise  39

elements that reappear, with the necessary changes, in Callimachus’s epinician. Also, one should note the immortalizing effect of epinician poetry: in the myth of the Victoria Berenices Callimachus openly associates the completion of Heracles’s task with the reception of heroic honors (fr. 54e.10 Harder). Inasmuch as Heracles’s task is the mythological prototype for any Nemean victory, Callimachus intimates the potential Berenice now has to be treated in an analogous manner. In this way, she will truly be the offspring of the Sibling Gods. Although Pindar alludes to the ἐγγύη, a rite similar to modern engagement, and Callimachus refers to the wedding ritual, the similarities between the two texts are undeniable: the victor as a spouse; the victory compared to a wedding gift (φιάλαν~ἕδνον); the song as an offering to the gods who have helped the victor; and the poet involved in the process as an intermediary between mortals and immortals helping to bridge the gap. In addition, Callimachus imitates Pindar in allowing for a continuum of praise forms which motivates the association of epinician praise with the “cognate” form of wedding praise.69 In Nemean 5, for instance, Pindar draws an analogy between his function and that of the divine chorus of Apollo and the Muses, who performed at Peleus’s wedding. Lines 25–37 contain the embedded song of the Muses. Their praise of Peleus starts with Zeus (cf. Nemean 2.1–5) and proceeds to the praise of Peleus’s conduct vis-à-vis Akastos and his treacherous wife. Gods reward Peleus’s chastity by allowing him to marry into their divine family. Similarly, the Victoria Berenices opens with Zeus and incorporates the praise for Berenice’s athletic victory into the textual wedding celebration. As in the myth of Peleus, Berenice’s performance is made to account for her incorporation into the divine royal family. The combination of epinician and marital discourses in the Victoria Berenices should be appreciated against a similar background. Through its contextualization against a marital background, the epinician praise of Berenice II’s victory assumes epithalamic overtones similar to the embedded wedding songs Pindar often uses. A final point of contact between Olympian 7 and the Victoria Berenices concerns the colonial undertones of the praise discourse used. The myth of Olympian 7 narrates the creation of the island of Rhodes, the union of its nymph with Helios, and the colonization by Tlepolemus. The praise of Diagoras becomes an opportunity to celebrate local history.70 In the case of the Victoria Berenices, the various allusions to the Argive myths and the Danaids reflect the links uniting Alexandria and Argos, providing a mythological background for Greek presence in Egypt.71  69 For wedding songs as praise poetry, see Hague 1983. 70 See Dougherty 1993: 120–135. 71 See Kampakoglou 2017.

40  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies The Victoria Berenices begins with the mention of Zeus and the Nymph of Nemea, where Berenice’s chariot victory was won. An ancient reader (Σ ad Ol. 8.21c) thought that this combination of Zeus and Nemea was modelled on Pindar’s Olympian 8 (16, Ζηνὶ γενεθλίῳ· ὃς σὲ μὲν Νεμέᾳ πρόφατον), a fanciful and unconvincing connection, which neglects the context of the Pindaric text but proves nontheless readers’ awareness of intertextual connections in Callimachus’s poetry. Οut of all the parallels that Pfeiffer (1949–1953: vol. 1, 308) puts forward οnly Nemean 4.9–11 seems relevant (τό μοι θέμεν Κρονίδᾳ τε Δὶ καὶ Νεμέᾳ | Τιμασάρχου τε πάλᾳ | ὕμνου προκώμιον εἴη). D’Alessio (2007: vol. 2, 447n2) has cogently pointed out that Pythian 4.2–3 offers a close structural parallel (ὄφρα … Μοῖσα, Λατοίδαισιν ὀφειλόμενον Πυθῶνί τ’ αὔξῃς οὖρον ὕμνων). This parallel is of special interest for the proem of the Victoria Berenices, an epinician also composed for a Cyrenean victor and by a Cyrenean poet: in Pythian 4.13–16, Medea prophesies the founding of Cyrene by the descendants of Euphamos. In doing so, she constructs an intercultural bridge, which brings together personages of Argive saga (Epaphos and his daughter, Cyrene, line 14, Ἐπάφοιο κόραν) and the Egyptian pantheon (16, Διὸς ἐν Ἄμμωνος θεμέθλοις). The association of Argos and Egypt is carried out within the frame provided by the myth of Io’s arrival in Egypt (cf. also Nemean 10.4–6) and the intercultural identification of mythological figures such as Amun with Zeus (cf. also fr. 36 Sn.-M., Ἄμμων Ὀλύμπου δέσποτα [with Pausanias. 9.16.1]; frr. 57–60 Sn.-M.).72 However, Callimachus does not pass over Io’s role in silence as Pindar does. He alludes to her myth through the adjective attributed to her descendant Danaos (4, ἁρμοῖ γὰρ ⌊Δαναοῦ γ⌋ῆς ἀπὸ βουγενέος). Callimachus also refers to her son Epaphos, if he is to be identified with the Apis bull mentioned at line 16 (εἰδ⌊υῖ⌋αι φαλιὸν τ⌊α⌋ῦ⌊ρον ἰηλεμίσαι⌋).73 At Pythian 4.3, Pindar entreats his Muse to “swell a beneficial wind of songs which is due to the children of Leto and to Pytho.” Similarly, in the first line of the Victora Berenices, Callimachus’s epinician is a wedding-gift due to Zeus and Nemea (Λατοίδαισιν ὀφειλόμενον Πυθῶνί τ’ … οὖρον ὕμνων ~ Ζηνί τε καὶ Νεμέηι τι χαρίσιον ἕδνον ὀφείλω). Both poets mention the gods presiding over the games in which the victory has been won (Apollo and Artemis, Zeus) along with the

 72 For such identifications, see also Linforth 1926. 73 For the importance of Io’s myth in Ptolemaic discourse see Schneider 1873: 34; Stephens 2002: 247 and 2003: 25n16; Kampakoglou 2016a.

An Εpinician for a Queen: the Sexual Politics of Praise  41

eponymous nymphs of the location of the games (Pytho, Nemea); they also represent their poems as a debt due to these divinities.74 Callimachus considers the Victoria Berenices as his personal “debt” (ὀφείλω) to Zeus and Nemea, who viewed Berenice with a favorable eye and granted her victory in the games. Divine involvement in an athletic victory is a standard topos of epinician poetry. Callimachus takes upon himself the task of thanking the gods for the queen’s victory. In a way, the central episode of the elegy praises Zeus through the achievement of his son Heracles. Since Berenice herself is a descendant of Heracles, her victory recreates that of her ancestor and praises her ultimate divine progenitor. Furthermore, the elegy incorporates allusions to mythological events that reflect or mirror the central two episodes—that is, the killing of the lion by Heracles and of the mice by Molorcus. Both episodes thematize the struggle between forces of culture and chaos alluding to the archetypical struggles between Zeus and Typhon or Horus and Seth.75 So, the praise of the queen both reflects the exploit of her ancestor and pays off her “debt” to Zeus and Nemea. The commercial, so to speak, aspect of the transaction between Callimachus and the two divinities recalls to a certain degree the opening lines of Pindar’s Olympian 10.2 (γλυκὺ γὰρ αὐτῷ μέλος ὀφείλων). In composing his ode for Hagesidamus, Pindar is paying his debt to the laudandus. Callimachus alters the contours of this relationship. His epinician is due to the gods that conferred the victory upon his laudanda not to the laudanda herself. At the same time, Callimachus is reworking a traditional epinician motif, which Schadewaldt named the khreos-motif.76 Pindar developed an elaborate vocabulary to express this motif.77 Still, Callimachus avoids epinician clichés and employs a new term, which cheats generic expectations: he presents his poem as a ἕδνον “a wedding gift” (1) due to Zeus and Nemea as a sign of gratitude (χάρις). Even in this twist of generic expectations, Callimachus remains within the space of Pindaric poetry. The grammatical form of the word (ἕδνον in the singular) and the metaphorical meaning (“praise-song”) with which Callimachus endows it in this context have a well-documented Pindaric provenance. Pfeiffer  74 The intertextual association of the Victoria Berenices with Pythian 4 is strengthened by fr. 54h Harder = 154 Massimilla: Callimachus employs an Abbruchsformel quite similar to that used by Pindar in Pyth. 4.246–48, on which see Mackie 2003: 54–55. 75 Kampakoglou 2013a: 120–127. 76 Schadewaldt 1928: 277–279, Gianotti 1975: 19–26, Bundy 1986: 11, 57–58, and Kurke 1991: 98– 107; for the connection of khreos with kharis (χαρίσιον … ὀφείλω) see Gundert 1935: 43–44. 77 Pfeiffer ad fr. 383.1 τίνειν (e.g. Ol. 10.12), τελεῖν or χρέος (e.g. Ol. 9.104–105, Pyth. 8.33–34). Bacchylides does not use any of these words. Still, there is one similar occurrence of χρέος in the extremely lacunose 8.20 (σὺν ἀλαθείᾳ δὲ πᾶν λάμπει χρέος), where the substantive is usually taken to refer to the task of the epinician poet; see Maehler 1982 ad loc.

42  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies lar) and the metaphorical meaning (“praise-song”) with which Callimachus endows it in this context have a well-documented Pindaric provenance. Pfeiffer (1949–1953: vol. 1, 308 on line 1) states that the use of ἕδνον in the singular is found again in poetry before Callimachus only in Pindar (Olympian 9.7–10, ἀκρωτήριον Ἄλιδος…τὸ δή ποτε Λυδὸς ἥρως Πέλοψ | ἐξάρατο κάλλιστον ἕδνον Ἱπποδαμείας); but this is in a rather different context.78 In Olympian 9, ἕδνον refers to Elis and suggests the myth of the chariot competition between Pelops and Oenomaus. Pelops acquires Elis as a wedding gift from his wife. Callimachus, however, employs the term self-referentially to designate his own poem. In this way, he invests the noun with a different metaphorical meaning (“praise-song”), which is absent from Olympian 9. Scholars have rightly suggested that this was a meaning suggested to Callimachus by Pindar’s Paean 4 (4, γυν]αικῶν ἑδνώσεται). Paean 4 is extremely lacunose, and it is difficult to evaluate its full significance for Callimachus’s epinician. Still, the marginal note in POxy. 841 can elucidate the meaning of this line: Σ 4 (Σδ2) (ἑδνώ)σατο (Σει) ἀντὶ ὑμνήθη [ < 10 ]. The metaphorical equation of ἕδνον with ὕμνος in Callimachus’s text alludes quite reasonably to Pindar, and this allusion was perceptible to ancient readers. In addition, it should be borne in mind that ἑδνώσεται in Paean 4 retains its marital associations, as the following discussion will make clear—and this should alert the reader to similar associations in the use of νύμφη in the Victoria Berenices. In the proem of Paean 4, the chorus members offer the paean as a wedding gift to Delos and its tutelary gods on behalf of Keos, their native island. Artemis, and perhaps Apollo, probably mentioned in the lacuna of line one, preside over the “transaction.” The analogy with fr. 54 Harder = 143 Massimilla is telling. Callimachus offers his wedding gift (i.e., the poem) to Zeus and Nemea on behalf of Berenice II, and probably Ptolemy III Euergetes, who is conspicuously absent from the elegy’s proem. Callimachus qua praise poet assumes a role similar to that of the Kean chorus in Pindar’s paean in that he gives the poem as an offering to the gods. The nymphs of the place (Delos ~ Nemea) along with its primary gods (Zeus ~ Artemis and Apollo) receive the gift which is offered on behalf of the people of Keos and Berenice, respectively. Pindar represents the relationship be-

 78 Harder 2012: vol. 2, 395–396. The singular in the meaning of “dowry” is also found in a fragment attributed to Hipponax (fr. 182 W2). Here ἕδνον is Haupt’s emendation of the MSS reading ἔνδον; see Farina 1963: ad fr. 74.

An Εpinician for a Queen: the Sexual Politics of Praise  43

tween the islands of Keos and Delos as a marital one, which gave the idea to Callimachus for his ἕδνον-elegy.79 The metapoetic connotations of ἕδνον aside, the noun retains its marital associations, as is made clear by the ensuing line, where Berenice II is addressed as νύμφα (“bride”). It is likely that this was meant to bring the poem into connection with the (recent?) marriage of Ptolemy III to Berenice II, without, however, specifying any further the exact time that has elapsed since then.80 If that is the case, the reuse of a Pindaric metapoetic metaphor is occasioned by political, or better said Ptolemaic, condiserations. On the other hand, one cannot exclude the possibility that Callimachus is trying to recreate on a smaller scale another generic element he found in Pindar’s epinicians—that is, love or marital imagery to describe athletic victory.81 Pindar regularly employs love diction82 or imagery in his epinicians to convey the force that drives the athletes to success (Olympian 3.33, γλυκὺς ἵμερος)83 as well as the role gods can play in securing this victory through their benevolence towards the victor.84 It is usual in this regard for mythological foils to be represented as lovers of gods (Pelops in Olympian 1)85 or their consorts (Cyrene in Pythian 9). By analogy, these myths suggest that the victor enjoys the love of the gods, something that often assumes marital overtones. In this respect, marriage comes to symbolize metaphorically the athletic competition; the bride, the victory; and sexual union, the prowess bred into the clan of the laudandus.86 So when Pindar represents Cyrene as Apollo’s bride in Pythian 9.56 (δέξεται εὐκλέα νύμφαν δώμασιν ἐν χρυσέοις), her role in epinician discourse is twofold: as a hunter, Cyrene is a foil to the athlete, but as Apollo’s bride and athlon, a foil to Telesikrates’s victory. The latter analogy is emphatically suggested at line 75 (δόξαν ἱμερτὰν ἄγοντ’ ἀπὸ Δελφῶν), where the glory that Telesikrates brings home to Cyrene is represented

 79 Käppel 1992: 97–98, 150–153; Rutherford 2001: 285; and Acosta-Hughes 2010: 178 with n. 27. In Paean 4, marital imagery indicates the close cultic connections and relationships between Keos and Delos. 80 Barigazzi 1979: 267n1; Harder 2012: vol. 2, 397; pace Parsons 1977: 8. 81 Kampakoglou 2014: 20–22. 82 Carne-Ross 1985: 26–30 and Gentili 1995: 235–236. 83 Bowra 1964: 169–170, Hölscher 1975: 96, Carey 1981 ad Pyth. 9.87, and Crotty 1982: 29. 84 Crotty 1982: 93–96. 85 Bowra 1964: 169. 86 Admittedly, such narrative patterns suggest the influence of the so-called Brautagonen, on which see Hansen 2002: 56–62; Scanlon 2002: 225–226.

44  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies as his bride.87 The reception of the victorious Telesikrates in lines 70–74 is described in terms similar to the reception of the divine couple first by Aphrodite (9–13) and then by Libya (55–57).88 Pythian 9 is Pindar’s third Cyrenean ode. It contains a great deal of Cyrenean folklore, and this peculiarity renders it an important intertext for the marital imagery in the Victoria Berenices, the more so as Callimachus acknowledges the importance of this ode in his representation of the royal couple in the Hymn to Apollo. Berenice’s designation as νύμφα aligns her with the nubile Cyrene, Apollo’s prize. At the same time, this description of the victor by Callimachus parallels Telesikrates’s description as a potential πόσις in lines 97–100 (ὡς ἕκασται φίλτατον παρθενικαὶ πόσιν … εὔχοντ’ … ἔμμεν). Reading the opening lines of the Victoria Berenices in light of Pindar’s epinicians suggests multiple points of contact both with regard to specific passages and to Pindaric themes. Faced with the need to praise a female victor, Callimachus resorts again to Pindar’s poetry adapting the material he found to his task. Not only does this connection acknowledge Pindar’s established position as the praise poet par excellence; it also suggests Callimachus’s effort to associate his praise of Berenice with the prestige that Pindaric discourse can confer. Pindaric influence does not stop in the proem; it is also felt in the myth, which combines Pindar’s penchant for athletic aitia with intimations of immortality for the victor.

The myth of the Victoria Berenices Mythological narratives are an integral part of victory songs. With the exception of very short odes that were composed shortly after the victory to be performed at the location of the games, most epinician poems include a major mythological section and several short references to mythological events. Myths are put to a multifarious use in epinician discourse. Pindar allows his praise of a recent athletic victory to be joined with the illustrious past of the city and introduce the mortal victor in the same category as heroes of old.89 Transitioning from archaic epinicians to Hellenistic ones, the reader is often struck by the variability of the picture. Iamb 8 was in all probability a mythological narrative with epinician

 87 Köhnken 1985: 96–97; Kurke 1991: 127–128. Cf. also Pyth. 5.26–31 with Kurke’s 1991: 125–126 discussion. 88 Crotty 1982: 95; Carne-Ross 1985: 93–94; Kurke 1991: 128–132. 89 Pòrtulas 1985: 212–214. I offer a rather schematic definition of the role of myths in Pindar’s victory songs. For a more extensive engagement with myths in the Pindaric corpus, see Köhnken 1971; Angeli Bernardini 1983; Most 1985.

The myth of the Victoria Berenices  45

overtones. On the other hand, the elegy for Sosibius seems to lack a major mythological section (see also below). Only the Victoria Berenices includes a mythological part, as is to be expected, since it was included in the Aetia. Nonetheless, despite the inclusion of the elegy in the Aetia, the etiological character of the myth that Callimachus chooses to celebrate Berenice II’s achievement obeys first and foremost epinician demands that parallel Pindaric mannerisms. Fragments 54b–54g Harder = 148–153 Massimilla seem to narrate the first meeting of Molorcus with Heracles, their parting, and Heracles’s struggle against the lion, although this would not have been in detail, at least as far as we can tell. Fr. 54b Harder = 148 Massimilla belongs to their first encounter during which Heracles inquires into the reasons for the devastation of the area. Lines 1–13 contain traces of what appears to have been a description of Heracles’s weapons: line eleven mentions “bows” (τόξα), lines 2–8 (?) a piece of weaponry which Heracles received from his father Amphitryon. The presence of the Taphians at line five would suggest that this was probably a spoil of war from Amphitryon’s expedition against the Taphians (Scutum 19; Apollodorus 2.4.5–7). So the first part could also contain a flashback narrative about or a perfunctory allusion to Amphitryon’s expedition, probably motivated by the description of Heracles’s weapons. Lines 26–34(?) present the ramifications that the presence of the Nemean Lion has had on the local bucolic economy. The elegy ends with the discussion of Molorcus and Heracles after the killing of the beast (frr. 54h–60b Harder; 154–158 Massimilla). This discussion provides Callimachus with the opportunity to connect the feat with the prize instituted for winners at the Nemean Games (cf. frr. 54i, 58 Harder = 155–156 Massimilla). Callimachus does not spend much time on the description of the killing per se. Instead, he relies on his readers’ familiarity with the myth to fill in the gaps in his account (fr. 54h Harder = 154 Massimilla). Callimachus, then, implicitly asserts the intertextual connection of his account with previous texts and so invites his readers to contextualize the Victoria Berenices using information about the same episode in various artistic means, textual and pictorial.90 In frr. 54h.3–5 and 54i Harder (= 154.3–5 and 156 Massimilla), Heracles recounts to Molorcus the prophecy Athena gave to him after his athlos. This harks back to Athena’s (?) similar prophecy in Bacchylides 13, which also deals with the

 90 These would include the various epics on Heracles (cf. Huxley 1969: 99–112), and especially those of Panyassis and Peisander; see Huxley 1969: 177–188. The epics of Peisander and Panyassis were available in Hellenistic times, since Euphorion (frr. 107, 187 Lightfoot) could use them. See Huxley 1969: 180 and Matthews 1974 ad fr. 15.

46  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies killing of the Nemean lion as an aition for the pankration event.91 Athena’s prophecy in fr. 54i Harder (= 156 Massimilla) also ends with an aition (fr. 54i.15 Harder = 156.15 Massimilla σ]ὴν κατ’ ἐπω[νυμίην), which, however, remains unclear.92 Until recently there has been confusion about the aition which the Victoria Berenices presents. Parsons following the testimony of Probus (fr. 60c Harder = 145 Massimilla “inde Nemea instituta sunt”) suggests that in her prophecy Athena connects Heracles’s exploit with the founding of the Nemean Games.93 However, as Fuhrer (1992: 112–118) has shown, the prophecy is instead concerned primarily with the celery wreath given to the victors. First, fr. 54i Harder = 156 Massimilla twice mentions the wreath offered to the victorious athletes (2, στέφοσ̣, 9, ἣ πρὶν ἀγων⌋ιστὰς ἔστεφε το⌊ὺς Ἐφύρῃ) as a reminder of their victory (8, ν⌋ίκης σύ⌊μβολον).94 Second, that the wreath is the primary concern of the poet can be deduced from the way in which Euphorion reads the Victoria Berenices. Fr. 107 Lightfoot gives the aition for the pine wreaths that victors received originally in the Isthmian Games (1–2).95 Euphorion adds that, after Heracles killed the lion of Nemea, Isthmian victors were crowned with celery wreaths (3–5). This seems to follow Athena’s similar comment at fr. 54i.5–9 Harder = 156.5–9 Massimilla.96 Euphorion, it seems, understands that the Victoria Berenices provides the aition for the wreath and not for the games in general although the lines separating the two aitia are understandably very thin. Among the preserved epinician odes of Pindar and Bacchylides, it is only Pindar’s Olympian 3, composed for the chariot victory of Theron of Acragas, which narrates a similar myth, the aition for the winners’ wreath at the Olympic Games (Olympian 3.13, γλαυκόχροα κόσμον ἐλαίας). Seen in this light, Olympian 3 offers a close model for Callimachus’s choice and accounts for the restricted interest Callimachus shows in the task of the Nemean Lion.97 A discussion of Pindar’s Olympian 3 will also show that Callimachus models his narrative on that of Pindar.

 91 Bacch. 13.46–48; see Maehler 1982: 251–252; D. Cairns 2010: 96. 92 The adjective Μολόρ[κειος suggests that this also involved Molorcus; still, it seems that Heracles’s speech ended with the prophecy of Athena at line 15. In that case, this line would belong to the external narrator, Callimachus, as is clearly indicated by the third person singular used at fr. 54i.18–21 Harder = 156.18–21 Massimilla. 93 Kampakoglou 2013a: 112–113 with notes 4–5. 94 Fr. 58 Harder =155 Massimilla, which concerns the prizes set for the Nemean Games, belongs in this part of the elegy. 95 See Meineke 1843: 81–82 and Groningen 1977: 156–157. 96 Meineke 1843: 87. 97 Bornmann 1978: 187–188; Corbato 1980; Lehnus 1980: 246–247.

The myth of the Victoria Berenices  47

Olympian 3 celebrates Theron’s victory in the chariot race (2–4), also praised in Olympian 2.98 Pindar’s epinician ode appears as a θεόδματον χρέος (7), which has been assigned to him by Pisa and the wreaths that adorn the head of the victor (6–9).99 Callimachus, as has already been mentioned, follows Pindaric practice in representing his elegy as a debt to Zeus and Nemea; similarities, further, include the presence in both proems of the personified nymphs of the games, Pisa and Nemea. Pindar modifies his poem with an adjective that implies the divine foundation of Theron’s victory (θεόδματον χρέος). Callimachus is not explicit about divine support in any of his epinician elegies; in fact, gods have limitied involvement in the winning of the victory, and their contribution is communicated indirectly by the expression of thanksgiving to them. On the other hand, the Pindaric narrator prefigures, so to speak, the mythological episode of his ode by including the victory wreaths in the khreos transaction adumbrated, an element missing from Callimachus. Not until Athena gives her prophecy are we given any evidence regarding the aition narrated in the Victoria Berenices. The myth of Olympian 3 concerns the origins of the sacred grove of Zeus at Olympia, and of the olive wreaths which were given to the victors as a victory prize (17–18). Still, Pindar offers his audience a highly polished narrative, which brings together various episodes in the mythology of the games.100 It is this plurality of mythological references that can guide the reader of Callimachus, providing a plausible subtext. As Harder (2012: vol. 2, 387–388) has argued, the Victoria Berenices contains the potential for several aitia. The truth of the main wreath aition should not blind us to the reality of other aitia either perfunctorily alluded to or shortly represented in the body of the elegy.

 98 Krummen 2014: 253–255; Catenacci 2013: 81. 99 Lehnus (1981: 64) and Catenacci (2013: 419). Farnell (1932: ad 6) associates the wreath with the poet. Hubbard (1985: 149) argues that the wreath at line six belongs to the poet and the one at line thirteen to the laudandus. This interpretation would underline the analogy between the wreath of poetry and the wreath of victory; similarly in Isthm. 7: 39 (poet) ~ 50–51 (victor). 100 Pindar alludes to the part the Aetolians played in the expedition of the Heraclides through Oxylos (Ol. 3.12 with Σ ad Ol. 3.21b–22d) and to the rival account of the foundation of the Games by Pelops (Ol. 3.23, ἐν βάσσαις Κρονίου Πέλοπος with Farnell 1932 ad loc.). The latter does not assume the size it does in Olympian 10 or in Bacchylides 9.6–14. Finally, the poet refers to the role of the Dioscuri as protectors of the Games (36–38), which is not borne out by our evidence; cf. Farnell 1932 ad 36. Hubbard (1985: 18) has pointed out that Pindar’s role as innovator is analogous to that of Heracles: Heracles founded the Olympic Games, and Pindar found a new way of celebrating victory in song (4).

48  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies Pindar’s narrative manages to combine in an intricate way the episode of the planting of the olive trees with the story of the founding of the games. Symbolically, the history of the games is traced back to the planting of the sacred grove. This act is reactivated through the wreath which comes from the very same sacred olive trees. Pindar places perfunctory references to the foundation of the games at nodal points in the beginning (11), middle (19–22) and end of the narrative proper (33–34), before the narrator returns to the here and now of the performance after line 34. In this way, the myth of Heracles’s capture of the hind with the golden antlers functions as the narrative backbone, which supports, or contextualizes, the minor episode of the aition of the κότινος. In the same way, the killing of the Nemean Lion forms the background against which Callimachus presents the main aition of the Nemean celery wreath in the Victoria Berenices. The uniqueness of the mythological part of Olympian 3 seems unparalleled before Callimachus’s elegy for Berenice, which seems to have been styled after it. The connection of the origins of the prize wreath with a feat of Heracles, even in the convoluted form that Pindar gives in Olympian 3, is a basic structural element that both poems have in common. The connection between the two poems is borne out by additional similarities both structural and linguistic. At Olympian 3.15 Heracles is said to have fetched the olive trees to be μνᾶμα τῶν Οὐλυμπίᾳ κάλλιστον θλων, “the fairest memorial of the games at Olympia.” In a somewhat similar way, Athena designates the Isthmian wreath in her prophecy ν⌋ίκης σύ⌊μβολον Ἰσθμιάδος (fr. 54i.7 Harder = 156.7 Massimilla). Both aitia are presented in the form of a flashback narrative, delivered in Olympian 3 by the narratorial voice and in the Victoria Berenices by Heracles. Callimachus’s technique is more complicated than that of Pindar: Callimachus presents the aition for the celery wreath as a prophecy spoken by Athena and embedded in Heracles’s flashback narrative to Molorcus, but, such narrative intricacies can be paralleled with Medea’s prophecy in his other major Pindaric subtext, Pythian 4. Callimachus then gives to Heracles part of the narrative role that “Pindar” has in Olympian 3. An analogous “delegation” of praise task is seen in the Victoria Sosibii where the personified Nile delivers part of the praise for Sosibius. Both Pindar and Callimachus attribute to Heracles the invention of the Olympic and Nemean wreaths, respectively. The structure of the episode in Olympian 3 makes evident the role that Heracles is summoned to play within the epinician discourse of the poem as paragon for Theron.101 The correspondence between the  101 Lehnus 1981 ad 13–34. For the special connection between Theron and Heracles, see Catenacci 2013: 82.

The myth of the Victoria Berenices  49

two poems makes it probable that Callimachus follows Pindar partially in this respect as well, helping us to better appreciate the Ptolemaic implications of Callimachus’s myth.102 The creation of the Olympic wreath is an athlos, similar in toil to that of the main Heraclean feats. After all, in the narrative of Olympian 3 the episode of the wreath assumes prominence over the mainstream labor of the hind with the golden antlers. In that respect, Heracles’s achievement is a point of comparison for the victory of Theron.103 In performing this task, Heracles shows features not found in other episodes, but appropriate to a ruler: he employs reason instead of violence (15)104 and shows piety towards his father in establishing the sacred grove of Altis (16). The end of the poem implies that after his death Theron will be honored as a hero following in the steps of Heracles, even if Pindar is unwilling to spell this out explicitly.105 Such an image would certainly appeal to a Ptolemaic audience, intensifying the relevance of Olympian 3 for the praise of Berenice. Furthermore, the founding of the games is an act of piety towards his divine father. Piety towards one’s divine father and support of his cult is a standard topos in pharaonic ideology and is represented in Theocritus’s praise of Ptolemy II Philadelphus (17.123–128). Ptolemy consecrated temples to support the cult of Ptolemy I Soter and Berenice I, and, like Heracles, founded the Ptolemaia, the athletic competion in which Sosibius won his first victory. Heracles retained a constant appeal for the literary representation of the Ptolemaic king, and Pindar’s representation of him in epinicians has left its mark on Hellenistic court poetry. In our sources, Heracles is mainly associated with Ptolemy II (cf. also Theocritus 24). Be that as it may, his presence in an elegy celebrating the consort of Ptolemy III, the king who styled himself as Benefactor, invests Callimachus’s myth with political connotations.106 Such associations become stronger if one considers that the myth of the Victoria Berenices thematizes an act that benefits humanity in two ways: it rids the local community of the nocuous presence of the lion, and it establishes an athletic competition, which is seen as a civilizing act.107 By killing the lion, Heracles causes the wreath to be created, although, as in the case of Olympian 3, this is more of a parergon than a proper task. It is quite probable that Callimachus made a similar association between Heracles’s task

 102 Kampakoglou 2013a: 111–114. 103 Krummen 2014: 278–302. 104 Catenacci 2013: 83. Cf. also Jason’s conciliatory speech to Pelias at Pyth. 4.155 with Segal 1986: 33. 105 Currie 2005: 192. 106 For the ideological implications of “Euergetes,” see Muccioli 2013: 178–193. 107 Kampakoglou 2013a: 114, 121–123.

50  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies and Berenice’s victory wreath, which, in view of the elegy’s position in the structure of the second half of the Aetia, may also have a metapoetic relevance. Like a wreath, the Aetia brings together various aitia, which are combined and offered to the queen as a prize in addition to her actual Nemean wreath. In this reading, the presentation of the Victoria Berenices becomes the presentation of the second part of the Aetia which is offered to Berenice II on the occasion of her wedding to Ptolemy III Euergetes and her athletic victory. Furthermore, the structuring device of the narrator’s discussion with the Muses that Callimachus employs in books 1–2 is replaced in the second half of the Aetia with a frame furnished by the Victoria Berenices and the Coma Berenices, a frame that praises the queen as patron and Muse-like inspirer of Callimachus. Callimachus juxtaposes Berenice’s victory with the killing of the lion, thus investing her victory with a beneficent character the exact contours of which are not easy to gauge. Pindar usually represents the victory in connection with the kleos and prestigious history of the victor’s home town. Victory is an asset to the city and gives reason to the victor’s community to rejoice. Callimachus goes a step further, formulating the significance of Berenice’s victory in agreement with Ptolemaic imagery and discourse. Berenice’s athletic victory is a peaceful expression of her charisma. In the Coma Berenices, Berenice’s lock is placed at the same place in the sky as where Egyptian astronomers placed Isis, who was supposed to wage war against the astral version of Seth. Through her lock Berenice protects Egypt, and assists the pharaoh as guardian or guarantor of cosmic balance (maat).108 A similar aspect permeates Berenice’s representation in this elegy as well. Through her victory, Berenice reenacts Heracles’s victory and restores order symbolically. In addition to this interpretation, Heracles sets a precedent for the deification of a mortal (cf. Olympian 2.1–5 imitated by Theocritus 17.1–12).109 By analogy, Callimachus represents Berenice as a benefactor of her people and worthy of the divine honors offered to her. This message is more pertinent if the poem was contemporaneous with the Coma, which serves a similar agenda. The analogy with Olympian 3, which is overtly concerned with such issues, as well as the role that Heracles plays in other court poems, makes this an attractive interpretation.

 108 Selden 1998: 344–348. 109 Pindar presents Theron as εὐεργέτης in Ol. 2.94; cf. Currie 2005: 170.

Callimachus and Tradition  51

Callimachean Reconfiguration of Epinician Motifs Both epinician elegies include textual signposts, which indicate to (ancient) readers that the elegies are to be understood as epinician poetry. Still it ought to be added that the generic character of a poem is not established on the basis of content alone, even if this is usually the case. Both poets and audience were aware that a genre such as epinician poetry was extremely stylized and contained various standard motifs.110 Motifs of this kind facilitated the communication between poet, laudandus, and audience and so formed an indispensable part of the horizon of expectations of the audience.111 These generically sanctioned motifs were a guide for the composition of the elegy and the efficacious functioning of epinician discourse. Next, I concentrate on the examination of genre allusions in both the Victoria Sosibii and Victoria Berenices, trying to establish how these reflect the horizon of expectations, which Callimachus was trying to meet with his poem.112

Callimachus and Tradition Lines 35–43 of Callimachus’s elegy for Sosibius present a lacunose catalogue of Sosibius’s early victories at the Panathenaea and the Ptolemaia. In this list, the entry for the Athenian victory presents special interest with regard to Pindaric influence on this poem. This part has rightly been compared with Pindar’s Olympian 9. There are two features pointing in that direction: first, the mention of Archilochus’s refrain (ἐφύμνιον), mentioned by Pindar in Olympian 9.1–2; and secondly, the fact that at the games in Athens Sosibius, though an ἀγένειος, competed and won in wrestling in the class of men, exactly like Epharmostos in Olympian 9:113

 110 See also the Introduction pp. 9–11. 111 See e.g. Groningen 1958: 325, Hamilton 1974: 1, and Segal 1986: 128–130. 112 See also Corbato 1980: 242–243 and Massimilla 2010: 226 ad fr. 143.1. 113 Gerber 2002 ad 2.

52  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies Tab. 1: Similarities between the Victoria Sosibii (fr. 384 Pf.) and Pindar’s Olympian 9 Victoria Sosibii

Olympian 

—⌊καὶ παρ’ Ἀθηναίοις γὰρ ἐπὶ στέγος ἱερὸν ἧνται⌋ () κάλπιδες, οὐ κόσμου σύμβολον, ἀλλὰ πάλης— ἄνδρας ὅτ’ οὐ δείσαντες ἐδώκαμεν ἡδὺ βοῆσαι

Ἄργει τ’ ἔσχεθε κῦδος ἀνδρῶν, παῖς δ’ ἐν Ἀθάναις, οἷον δ’ ἐν Μαραθῶνι συλαθεὶς ἀγενείων μένεν ἀγῶνα πρεσβυτέρων ἀμφ’ ἀργυρίδεσσιν (90 )

ἄνδρας ὅτ’ οὐ δείσαντες ἐδώκαμεν ἡδὺ βοῆσαι Τὸ μὲν Ἀρχιλόχου μέλος νηὸν ἔπι Γλαυκῆς κῶμον ἄγοντι χορῷ φωνᾶεν Ὀλυμπίᾳ, Ἀρχιλόχου νικαῖον ἐφύμνιον· () καλλίνικος ὁ τριπλόος κεχλαδώς (2) ἄρκεσε Κρόνιον παρ’ ὄχθον ἁγεμονεῦσαι κωμάζοντι φίλοις Ἐφαρμόστῳ σὺν ἑταίροις

The proem of Olympian 9 is dominated by the presence of Archilochus, something quite uncommon for Pindaric practice: as a rule, Pindar does not name other poets in his poems, unless tradition has assigned them a privileged position.114 This case becomes all the more remarkable because the only other mention of Archilochus in Pythian 2 (53–56) is far from flattering. In Pythian 2 (475? BCE), Archilochus functions as a foil to Pindar qua epinician poet: he is envious (ψογερός) and tries to fatten himself on “heavy words full of animosity” (55). As an iambic poet, he is preoccupied with ψόγος and ἔχθος, the characteristics of human nature that Pindar is usually trying to fight off with his poetry (cf. Victoria Sosibii 57–58).115 In Olympian 9 (466 BCE), Archilochus has changed camps: no longer is he the embodiment of the iambic idea, of everything alien to the virtues espoused by epinician poets; on the contrary, he is considered a fellow praise poet and, as such, a rival. Although Pythian 2 juxtaposes Pindar and Archilochus in terms of genres, Olympian 9 puts forward praise as the common denominator for both of them and

 114 e.g. Homer: Pythian 4.277, Nemean 7.21, Isthmian 3.55, Paean. 7b.11; Hesiod: Isthmian 6.67; cf. Schmid 1998: 162–164. “Homer” can refer generally to epic poetry: cf. Simonides fr. 273 Poltera, where Homer’s name stands for epic poetry in general or more specifically for Eumelus’s Corinthiaca; see Nisetich 1989: 1–23 and Kurke 1991: 156–157. For Hesiod’s name as a signpost for various poems of the Hesiodic corpus, see D’Alessio 2005b. 115 Nagy 1979: 224–226, 250–252; A. M. Miller 1981: 139–141; Kurke 1991: 100–101; Spelman 2018: 261–264.

Callimachus and Tradition  53

suggests that the difference between them lies in the level of sophistication in the composition of epinician poetry.116 Olympian 9 posits two celebrations for Epharmostos’s victory in wrestling at the Olympic Games of 466 BCE. Τhe first at Olympia, right after the victory, included the performance of the μέλος traditionally attributed to Archilochus. The second was entrusted to Pindar and was celebrated at Epharmostos’s house. Through the juxtaposition of his ode with this traditional and ready-made form of praise, Pindar offers a historical sketch of the epinician genre and contrasts himself with the older phases in order to point out his own artistic superiority117 and subvert Archilochus’s traditional authority.118 Pindar offers a teleological presentation of the genre and suggests that, with him, the genre has reached its artistic peak. In this way, he sets the boundaries and defines what is “archaic” and “classic” in respect of epinician poetry. Callimachus borrows Pindar’s words to refer to Archilochus’s composition. So the reference to Archilochus is really a reference to Pindar in Olympian 9. The analogies are close and refer to the form of Archilochus’s epinician poem and its performance.119 Callimachus’s language is more specific and technical. In the first place, the generically unclear term μέλος used so often by Pindar to refer to his own epinician odes (e.g. Olympian 10.3; Pythian 2.4, 68; Nemean 4.15, 45) is replaced by the more technical term ἐφύμνιον.120 This term, believed by modern scholars to be a Callimachean invention,121 is first attested in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo (98) and in Apollonius (2.713) in connection with the ἰὴ cry associated with Apollo’s paean. The context of its other uses suggests choral performance, and this contextualization indicates by analogy how Callimachus understood the performance of Archilochus’s hymn at the beginning of Olympian 9.122 καλλίνικος

 116 Pavlou 2008: 541–545; Spelman 2018: 205–206, 213–224. 117 Cf. Agócs 2012: 212–216. For the poem’s incipit as the appropriate place for a poet to declare his originality, see Conte 1986: 76. 118 Spelman 2018: 263. 119 (i) Ἀρχιλόχου μέλος φωνᾶεν ἐν Ὀλυμπίαι, καλλίνικος ὁ τριπλόος κεχλαδώς ~ Ἀρχιλόχου νικαῖον ἐφύμνιον; (ii) κωμάζοντι φίλοις … σὺν ἐταίροις ~ κῶμον ἄγοντι χορῶι. 120 For Pindar’s use of μέλος see Gianotti 1975: 85–87. Bacchylides seems to have used the term only in his dithyrambs (18.3; 19.3). 121 F. Williams 1978 ad Call. Ap. 98. Σ ad Ol. 9.1i and 3l use the same term to refer to the refrain of Archilochus’s hymn. 122 Σ ad Ol. 9.1f. revives, although in a far from satisfying manner, a disagreement between Eratosthenes and Aristarchus concerning the genre and the function of Arch. fr. 324 W2; cf. Eratosthenes FGrHist 241 F 44. It could be that fr. 384.38–39 Pf. reflects an awareness of this problem and an eagerness to tackle it; see also Fuhrer 1992: 186–187.

54  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies modifying μέλος (Pythian 5.106),123 ὕμνος (Nemean 4.16), or on its own (Nemean 3.19) is employed by Pindar self-referentially to describe his own epinician odes. This usage looks back to the praise of the victorious Heracles in Archilochus’s hymn (fr. 324 W2; cf. also Euripides Supplices 113; Electra.880).124 In Olympian 9, the epinician μέλος is identified with the καλλίνικος cry which was uttered three times at Olympia.125 Callimachus’s νικαῖον ἐφύμνιον, on the other hand, sounds more like a descriptive tag: Callimachus avoids an explicit mention of the poem per se, but alludes to it as “the refrain exclaimed on the occasion of athletic victory,” adding the name of its author. The description of the first celebration for Epharmostos’s victory in Olympian 9 is completed with the details of the performance, which included Epharmostos’s peers (cf. Pindar Isthmian 8.1–5). The mention of the laudandus’s friends indicates the informal character of this celebration and juxtaposes it with the official celebration for which Pindar’s poem was commissioned. Callimachus retains the image of the κῶμος (“celebration”), while he refers to the victor’s friends as χορός.126 In lines 47–49, Callimachus presents himself participating in a κῶμος, probably at the consecration of one of Sosibius’s offerings. The juxtaposition of the two celebrations suggests their complementarity in that it creates the impression of an ongoing celebration that started in situ and is now completed with the Pindaric epinician. One may compare the opening lines of Nemean 9: the poet represents himself participating in a procession from Sicyon, the location of the games, directly to the victor’s house at Aetna. Accordingly, Callimachus portrays the present celebration as the culmination of a career that started in Athens. Ultimately, Callimachus juxtaposes his poetic career with that of Sosibius, representing himself, after the Pindaric fashion, as a victor over Archilochus. There remains a discrepancy between the two texts: in Olympian 9, Archilochus’s poem is used in the celebration of a victory at the Olympic Games and not

 123 Outside Pindaric poetry, the collocation is found in a military context to refer to the epinician paean (see Rutherford 2001: 45–47): cf. Eur. Erechth. fr. 370 Kannicht with Carrara’s 1977 notes ad fr. 18. 124 On καλλίνικος as a traditional adjective of Heracles, see Swift 2010: 132–133 and 145–147. 125 Giannini 2013: 523. 126 Hellenistic commentators usually identify the epinician κῶμος with the chorus which performed Pindar’s odes; see Heath and Lefkowitz 1991: 175n4 for references. Pindar, and other lyric poets, distinguish as a rule between χορός, associated with gods, and κῶμος, connected with epinician performances: Lonsdale 1993: 115; Agócs 2012: 195–196. κῶμος can describe generally the celebration as a whole, part of which was also the performance of the epinician ode; see Eckerman 2010 passim and 309n27 specifically for the Victoria Sosibii. For the semantic polyvalence of the term and its usage in epinician discourse, see especially Agócs 2012.

Games and True Excellence (fr. 384.13–15 Pf.)  55

some local games as in Callimachus. This difference helps Callimachus to enhance the prestige of Sosibius’s early victory and talk about his own role. Sosibius’s recent Nemean and Isthmian victories surpass his past local victories in glory. At the same time, Archilochus’s traditional song is used for a local victory, suggesting, perhaps, that Panhellenic victories can be adequately praised only by a poet of Callimachus’s caliber.127 By placing Archilochus’s poem in a past celebration, Callimachus indicates the qualitative distance between his epinician poetry and the origins of the epinician genre associated with Archilochus. In this, he agrees with Pindar, who also views Archilochus as the somewhat old-fashioned originator of epinician poetry. Both poets see their relationship with Archilochus in a competitive manner. Like their laudandi, they “wrestle” against previous epinician tradition, so as to prove their superior worth.128 While Callimachus clearly alludes to Archilochus, he does so through the lens of the Pindaric text, and this creates the inevitable impression that Pindar replaces Archilochus in Callimachus’s discourse as the authoritative figure to be challenged by the epigonos.

Games and True Excellence (fr. 384.13–15 Pf.) After his address to Poseidon, tutelary deity of the Isthmian Games (9–12), Callimachus moves on to a description of the games themselves (13–15): ἔνθα ποδῶν ἵνα χειρὸς ἵνα κρίσις ὀξέο̣[ς ἵππου ἰθυτάτη, χρυσὸν δ’ εὐδικίη παραθεῖ, χρυσὸν ὃν ἀνθρώποι[σ]ι καλὸν κακὸν ετρα ̣ ̣ [ ̣ ] ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ξ where there is the most fair judgment of ability in feet and hands and quick horse, and righteousness competes with gold in running, gold, which is a fair evil for men …

The designation of the games as κρίσις follows Pindaric language: Olympian 3.21– 22 (καὶ μεγάλων ἀέθλων ἁγνὰν κρίσιν | καὶ πενταετηρίδ’ ἁμᾶ | θῆκε ζαθέοις ἐπὶ κρημνοῖς Ἀλφεοῦ); Nemean 10.23 (ἀγών τοι χάλκεος | δᾶμον ὀτρύνει ποτὶ βουθυ-

 127 Cf. Spelman’s 2018: 49–51 discussion of the way Pindar references minor local victories in Isthm. 4.21–27. 128 For Archilochus’s fame in Hellenistic times see also Posidippus’s Seal AB 115 and the Mnesiepes inscription (IG XII.5 445[1]); D. Clay 2004: 10–12.

56  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies σίαν Ἥρας ἀέθλων τε κρίσιν); and especially Pythian 4.253 (ἔνθα καὶ γυιῶν ἀέθλοις ἐπεδείξαντο κρίσιν ἐσθᾶτος ἀμφίς),129 where the construction is closer to that offered by Callimachus. The description of the games is not concerned with the myth of their origin, as in lines 25–26, but with the notion of fair judgment and with how this manifests the victor’s true worth, which has been put to the test and proven. For Pindar, the laudandus’s actions, and especially his victory, are proof of his character and inborn excellence. This is why in Olympian 8.1–2 Pindar addresses Olympia as “mistress of truth” (δέσποιν’ ἀλαθείας): the games test and reveal the true character of the victor.130 This is, in all probability, the meaning of these lines as well. Sosibius’s victories have been an indisputable proof of his worth, which will be developed more elaborately in lines 53–60 (or even earlier at line 44). The exact role that gold plays in this context is not clear. At line 14, Callimachus uses an athletic metaphor to represent gold as the rival of fair judgment in a race.131 In Ode 11, Bacchylides accuses the judges at the Olympic Games of misjudgment and attributes the failure of his laudandus’s to win the race to their corruption or partiality (11.26–27).132 Something similar could be suggested here. Alternatively, the poet could claim that the athletes vie for the wreath of the victor and not for gold. The mention of man and the oxymoronic designation of gold as καλὸν κακόν (an “evil blessing” tr. Nisetich) would indicate, in view of the emphasis on fair judgment in the previous line, that this is a gnomological passage that could lead to a mythological part about the origins of gold, as Pfeiffer supposed:133 either the tale of Indian ants, which build their nests from the gold they dig up (Herodotus

 129 I follow the transmitted text. I am skeptical about the arguments of Braswell 1988 ad 235(c), who accepts instead Kayser’s conjecture (ἐπεδείξαντ’ ἶν) as do Gildersleeve, Bowra and Race. For the resolution of the second longum in an e-colon see Farnell 1932 ad loc. and Itsumi 2009: 48– 49, especially 431. For the correct meaning of κρίσις here see Giannini 1995 ad loc. and the translations of Fraccaroli 1894 and Nisetich 1980. 130 See Marg 1938: 87–88; Bowra 1964: 326; Park 2013: 19–20. 131 In Pindar, athletic metaphors are usually employed for the poet’s self-representation, but not for gnomic parts; Lefkowitz 1991: 161–168. If our reading of the poem here is correct, this would suggest a deviation from Pindaric practice. 132 Maehler 1982 and D. Cairns 2010 ad loc. 133 R. Pfeiffer 1949–1953: vol. 2, 121 on 384.15. Contra Barigazzi 1951: 418.

Games and True Excellence (fr. 384.13–15 Pf.)  57

3.102),134 or the myth of Aeacus, who was also credited with the finding of gold (Pliny Natural History 7.197; Hyginus Fabulae 274).135 The lacuna of eight lines between lines 15 and 21 suggests that, if this contained a mythological part, it did not come close to the size of Heracles’s myth in the Victoria Berenices. The myth of Philoctetes in Pythian 1.50–55 would provide a parallel for a short myth in an epinician ode. The limited extent of the mythological part agrees with the scarcity of mythological references in this poem. By contrast, the Victoria Berenices is replete with mythological allusions. This difference is probably irrelevant to the respective status of the two laudandi and reflects, more likely, the function of the Victoria Berenices as proem to both book 3 and the second part of the Aetia. Such an interpretation also agrees with another Pindaric advise in Olympian 6 (3–4, ἀρχομένου δ’ ἔργου πρόσωπον χρὴ θέμεν τηλαυγές).136 In a manner different from the Victoria Berenices, the emphasis on the documentary aspect of epinician discourse aligns the Victoria Sosibii with epinician inscriptions and epigrams such as those of Posidippus, which also exhibit a comparable dearth of mythological material.137 On the other hand, one should also consider that if the embedded hymn to Poseidon is supposed to continue the tradition of impromptu epinicians, then the lack of a mythological part would be a characteristic of such odes which are, as a rule, quite short and without a proper myth. The list of Sosibius’s victories forms the kernel of Callimachus’s elegy, and although it can be paralleled in both Pindaric and Bacchylidean epinicians, it is closer to the lapidary style of athletic inscriptions. Similarly, the embedded epigram inscribed on Sosibius’s ex voto reworks the interaction between poetic and “alternative material mode[s] of projecting fame”.138

 134 The story of the gold-digging ants reappears at Iamb 12 fr. 202.58–60 Pf. and Theoc. 17.107. In both cases, the aition is contextualized within a moralizing discourse about gold and its value in comparison with other commodities or its proper use for the benefit of people; Kerkhecker 1999: 240 and Hunter 2003 ad Theoc. 17.106–114. Callimachus’s point, then, could have been similar to Pindar’s frequent admonitions to his laudandi about the proper use of their wealth. (cf. e.g. Isthm. 1.42; 4.47). The connection between Iamb 12 and Victoria Sosibii is strengthened by an interesting case of self-quotation: Iamb 12 fr. 202.64 Pf., supplemented by Lobel as χρ]υσὸν αἰνήσουσ[ι κάλλιστον κακόν, is almost identical to καλὸν κακόν of line 14. See Kerkhecker 1999: 242. 135 The mention of ants in this case would be explained by the fact that his people were originally ants, which Zeus transformed into humans to keep him company; cf. Hesiod fr. 205 M.-W. 136 Gronigen 1958: 329; Loscalzo 2003: 128–129; Giannini 2013: 446 on lines 3–4. 137 Day 1994: 67. 138 Fearn 2013: 232.

58  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies

The Limits of the Victor’s Fame Fr. 384.23–34 Pf. present the fame bestowed on Alexandria thanks to Sosibius’s victories and the joyful reaction of the Nile to the happy news about it. Sosibius’s double victory is represented as something unprecedented: echoing a traditional motif found both in epinician odes and in agonistic epigrams, the Nile proclaims that: ̣ ̣ [ ̣ ̣ ̣ οὐ] γὰρ πώ τις ἐπ[ὶ] πτόλιν ἤγαγ’ ἄεθλον | ] ταφίων τῶνδε πανηγυρίων “one is yet to bring to the city an award ... from these funeral festivals.”139 The context does not make clear whether Sosibius is the first Alexandrian ever to win a single chariot-race victory in the Isthmian or Nemean Games separately (i.e. two victories in total) or the first ever to win two chariot victories in both games (i.e. a total of four victories), as Trypanis’s conjecture διπλόον “double” at line 30 suggests.140 Still the emphasis falls on the fact that Sosibius is “twice wreathed” (διστεφής); the uniqueness of Sosibius’s attainment is emphasized by the use of a new word coined by Callimachus. The ensuing kleos glorifies both Sosibius and his city, Alexandria. Callimachus follows Pindaric practice in the presentation of Alexandria, Sosibius’s home city. Pindar usually avoids geographical peculiarities in the presentation of the victor’s city and instead concentrates on names of places or heroes who have a symbolic value either for the home-city of the victor or for the place of the games.141 Such circumlocutions attach the city to a mythological founder and evoke its glorious heroic past.142 In a similar fashion, Callimachus refers to Alexandria as Ἀλεξάνδρου … γῆν,143 reflecting the founding of the Ptolemaic capital by Alexander. However, Callimachus expects his audience to recall Alexander not only as the founder of Alexandria but also as a paragon for the laudandus. From a generic point of view, Alexander appears in the role traditionally reserved for Heracles in Pindaric epinicians,144 and this selection could reflect

 139 Cf. Pind. Ol. 13.30–31; Bacch. 8.22–25; Eur. PMG 755; Posid. AB 83.3, 84.4, 88.1. Agonistic epigrams: e.g. 31, 33, 37, 49 Ebert. Cf. also Bettarini 2004: 11 and Angeli Bernardini 2000: 40. For rivers as witnesses of heroic exploits see e.g. Catullus 64.357 with Fordyce 1961 ad loc. and Tibullus I 7.11; for the connection with Callimachus see Hunter 2006: 51n3. 140 Lelli/Parlato 2008: 63. 141 e.g. Ol. 1.24, Nem. 5.46, 7.10, 10.1; see Fränkel 1975: 491–495; Saïd/Trédé-Boulmer 1984: 163–166. 142 Saïd/Trédé-Boulmer 1984: 166. 143 γῆν is Housman’s correction for τήν of POxy. 1793 and the scholia on POxy 2258 fr. 2r; see Lobel 1952: 100. The reading does not affect my argument, since Alexander’s role as founder of the city remains unchanged in either case. 144 e.g. Nemeam. 3.21–26 with Instone’s 1996 note ad loc.

The Limits of the Victor’s Fame  59

royal propaganda (cf. Theocritus 17.17–20). Like Heracles, Alexander was a mortal, offspring of a god, who attained immortality and so set the limits of human potentiality. Sosibius’s status as a citizen of Alexandria associates the kleos of his victory with that of Alexander and both, as it will appear next, reflect on the reigning king. In a similar way, one can approach the role of the Nile from the angle of genre expectations and especially of its Pindaric representation. The importance of the Nile for the sustenance of life in Egypt and local cult easily suggests the river god for an epinician poem addressed to an Alexandrian potentate.145 Still, as Péron (1974: 85) has pointed out, in Pindar—and probably also in Bacchylides146—rivers such as the Phasis and the Nile stand for places far away and difficult to reach.147 Isthmian 6 (22–24) is the only clear case where the Nile is explicitly mentioned as one of the world’s extremes, preserving what was probably a traditional image put to epinician use by Pindar.148 By singling out the Nile as laudator, Callimachus subverts the Nile’s Pindaric role, and thus allows Cyrene to take on a role which suits better Callimachus’s political and poetic agenda. Isthmian 6 celebrates the victory of Phylacidas from the island of Aegina. As is common in songs for Aeginetan victors, the mythological part of the song focuses on an episode from local mythology—the stories about the children of Aeacus. Praising Phylacidas’s home-island, Pindar emphasizes the spread of the Aeacids’ kleos through far-off, legendary territories, which include the unknown sources of the Nile (cf. Herodotus 2.27–34) and the mythical and hence unknown land of the Hyperboreans.149 Humans may not have discovered the exact location of any of these places, but they were known and accessible to the gods and their favorites.150 The fact that the fame of the Aeacids transcends the limits of the known world in Pindar’s time suggests that they are moving out of the domain of

 145 Stephens 2002: 256–257. 146 The mention of the Nile in Bacchylides 9.40–41 should be connected with the feats of the Aeacids (46) and more specifically of Achilles, Asopus’s descendant through his daughter Aegina. See Maehler 1982 ad loc. and Burnett 1985: 100. 147 Cf. Isthm. 2.41–42: the Nile along with Phasis; Isthm. 6.22–23: Phasis with the land of the Hyperboreans. For other appearances of the Nile in Pindar, see Bowra 1964: 371–373; Fränkel 1975: 479. 148 An intertextual connection between the proems of Isthmian 6 and the Victoria Sosibii can be established on the basis of fr. 384.1 Pf (see above). We can, therefore, assume that Callimachus means for his readers to compare the role of the Nile in both poems. 149 Privitera 1982: 206 note on lines 22–23. 150 Cf. Pythian 10.27–31 with Hubbard 1985: 20; Lucan 10.286–287.

60  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies human comparison. In this way, Phylacidas’s famous countrymen set the threshold for heroism and prowess for their young compatriot.151 In the Victoria Sosibii, Callimachus claims that “even a man inhabiting the shores of the river Cinyps in Cyrene will hear of Sosibius’s double victory” (24). Sosibius’s kleos reaches both Alexandria and Cyrene. The kleos of the victor does not journey to the remotest ends of the known world but to his city and to neighboring Cyrene. Callimachus’s alterations of epinician tradition should be seen both as a balancing act motivated by geopolitical concerns and as a literary statement about his place in epinician tradition. Within the context of Ptolemaic politics, this mention of Cyrene alludes to the unification of the poet’s home with the Ptolemaic kingdom under Ptolemy III.152 The transformation of the motif, then, is predicated on the needs of court propaganda: the journey of Sosibius’s kleos to a Ptolemaic dominion helps emphasize the bonds between Alexandria and Cyrene as parts of the unified Ptolemaic empire. At the same time, and from a diachronic point of view, Callimachus’s approach compromises the limits of kleos as conjured up by Pindar. In his attempt to achieve a totalizing effect, Pindar picks two far-off places at the ends of the known world.153 For most Greeks of Pindar’s time, the Nile, although wellknown, carried with it a sense of the exotic. This was, however, no longer true for Callimachus: the Nile was now part of the expanded Greek world. Callimachus’s audience inhabited Egypt and lived along the banks of the great river, so any sense of mystique that the mention of the river may have carried for Pindar’s audience is lost on them. If Pindar thought that the Nile and the Hyperboreans were enough to set up a mythical realm worthy of Peleus’s and Telamon’s (and subsequently of Phylacidas’s) fame, this image cannot carry the same strength for Callimachus and his laudandus. Alexander’s campaign opened up the Greek world and led the Greeks to some of these quasi-legendary far-off territories. This widening of the boundaries of Greek culture is alluded to by the presence of Alexander at line 23. Indirectly, the alteration of the Pindaric motif praises the expanse of the Ptolemaic empire. Callimachus rearranges epinician discourse in what seems to be a self-conscious and pointed game with Pindaric and epinician conventions, asserting his role in poetic tradition.154  151 Bowra 1964: 253. 152 This could be an indication of the late date of the elegy; cf. Nisetich 2001: 291n20. For the unification of Cyrenaica with Egypt as a result of Ptolemy Euergetes’s marriage to Berenice II, see Grainger 2010: 148, and 155 on the uncertainty over the date of this marriage. 153 Péron 1974: 67. 154 The allusion to Pindar’s Olympian 9 at fr. 384.39–40 Pf. serves a similar idea; see discussion above. If the Victoria Sosibii was Callimachus’s first attempt at epinician poetry, the idea of lateness communicates Callimachus’s anxiety in reviving a long-forgotten genre.

The Value of Victory  61

The Value of Victory In the Victoria Sosibii, the victorious chariot is imagined to have just come to Egypt directly from the Isthmus, where Sosibius’s most recent chariot victory was won, driven by the team of victorious horses. The poet adds a realistic touch about the noise that the axle of the chariot made during the race still echoing in the horses’ ears. This is almost a snapshot, giving the audience something of the suspense of the race itself (cf. e.g. Victoria Berenices fr. 54.8–10 Harder = 143.8– 10 Massimilla; Posidippus AB 74.1–3, 76). This poetic miniature contains all the necessary information about Sosibius’s victory: the victory was won at the Isthmia in the chariot race and the prize was a celery wreath. The only thing missing is the identity of the victor, which was probably mentioned later on, following Pindar’s tendency to delay naming the victor.155 Furthermore, this is the only, indirect, description of the victory. Like Pindar before him, Callimachus shuns details concerning the actual victory. For Pindar, the victory serves as the point of departure that enables him to unfold his praise of the victor’s excellence and prowess by contextualizing his victory against the background of cosmic truth filtered through the prism of his local mythological and family history.156 In the words of Charles Segal (1986: 89), “Pindar [...] characteristically incorporates the historical circumstances into a larger vision of the victory as an interchange between mortality and divinity, transience and eternity. This transfiguration of the present particulars is part of his conception of his task as a spokesman of the Muses of immortal Truth.” However, unlike Pindar, Callimachus does not use the victory as an occasion to explicate the universal rules that govern human existence. In light of this, it is undeniable that Callimachus’s rendition of the genre discourse lacks the emphatically “epiphanic” function it has for Pindar.157 On the other hand, the Victoria Berenices offers a slightly different image. Fr. 54.7–10 Harder = 143.7–10 Massimilla constitute the golden report of Berenice’s victory. As far as one can tell on the basis of the meager fragments available, this seems to have been the only substantial description of the victory. One is unable to establish how many details about the race fr. 54a Harder = 144 Massimilla originally contained. It is possible that οὐκ ἐρέω at line 15 heralds the narrator’s decision not to dwell on the description of the race. As a rule, Pindar avoids descriptions of the events per se. Instead, he concentrates on the meaning the victory had as a turning point in the life of the laudandus, his family, and the

 155 R. Pfeiffer 1949–1953: vol. 1, 311–312 on line 4. 156 Finley 1966: 40. 157 I use the term “epiphanic” in this context in the manner explained by Laughlin 1993.

62  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies community.158 Callimachus could be following Pindaric practice. He is certainly reticent about the race in the Victoria Sosibii. On the other hand, thrilling descriptions of chariot races appealed to Greek audiences of all periods and so had a venerable tradition in Greek poetry (cf. Iliad 23.262–652, Sophocles Electra 680– 763). In light of this consideration, scholars have looked for models in other poets. West (ap. Parsons 1977: 9) has suggested that this part of the Victoria Berenices follows Bacchylides’s description of Hieron’s Olympic victory (476 BCE) in the kelēs-race with Pherenicus (5.37–49). Corbato has raised the possibility that Callimachus is following 06/02/21 Merkelbach–Stauber ([= 59 Ebert]), an inscriptional epigram (ca. 280–272 BCE) for a chariot victory of Attalos,159 the adoptive son of Philetairos and father of Attalos I. Despite the similarities in treatment, several of which could be considered as generic conventions, the spatial use of πρότερος that both Hellenistic texts have in common (8, δίφρος ἀεὶ προτέραν πο[σ]σὶν ἔφαινε κόνιν ~ fr. 54.8 Harder = 143.8 Massimilla, ἔθρεξαν προ[τέρω]ν̣ οὔτινες ἡνιόχων) is a clear indication of their dependence on Bacchylides 5.43 (οὔπω νιν ὑπὸ προτέ[ρω]ν | ἵππων ἐν ἀγῶνι κατέχρανεν κόνις | πρὸς τέλος ὀρνύμενον). Beside the indisputable linguistic similarities between the Victoria Berenices and both Bacchylides 5 and 06/02/21 Merkelbach–Stauber, there is a difference in the way in which Callimachus represents the chariot-race, a difference which brings Callimachus’s description closer to that offered by Pindar in Pythian 5.49– 53. Bacchylides’s description (37–50) is centered solely on the performance of Pherenicus without any mention of the other contestants, while Callimachus seems to have given a whole scene where all athletes are present, not only Berenice’s chariot. The difference is one of technique and the epigram for Attalos seems in this respect closer to Bacchylides than Callimachus. The juxtaposition of the victorious chariot with the rest of the contestants is modelled on Pindar’s representation of Karrhotos’s chariot-race in Pythian 5.49–53. This ode, addressed to Arcesilaus, king of Cyrene, imparts a considerable amount of information on the colonial prehistory of Cyrene (55–62, 69–95). This is also one of the very few passages in Pindaric poetry where one can find details pertaining

 158 Cf. e.g. Jebb 1905: 56–57 and Bowra 1964: 165–168. Simonides (frr. 5–6 Poltera), on the other hand, indulges himself in descriptions of the circumstances of victories; see also Jebb 1905: 38; Norwood 1945: 29; Rawles 2012: 14–17. For such descriptions in Bacchylides and their function in his praise discourse, see Hadjimichael 2015. In contrast to Pindar, the description of races becomes a popular theme in the generically related epinician epigrams and especially Posidippus’s Hippika; see Bettarini 2004: 14–15 and Angeli Bernardini 2000: 40. 159 See Ebert 1972 ad loc.

χάρις  63

to the race. Hence, it appears to be a relevant and important intertext for the description of the race of Berenice II, a Cyrenean by descent. The correspondence is stylistic rather than linguistic: the juxtaposition of the victorious chariot with the other chariots enables both poets to single out the uniqueness of the performance of the chariot of the laudandi.

χάρις Callimachus refers to the centrality of χάρις in Pindar’s epinician discourse through the use of χαρίσιον in the proem of the Victoria Berenices. Although χάρις is not explicitly mentioned in the Victoria Sosibii, the relationship of mutual friendship that Callimachus constructs between Sosibius and himself approximates the Pindaric concept. In addition to this aspect of Callimachus’s praise discourse, Callimachus also associates Sosibius with the Argive cult of the Charites. It is quite likely that as the source of χάρις for both poetry and athletic achievement, the three goddesses represent a Callimachean rendition of this concept central to Pindar’s discourse. Fr. 384.44–45 Pf. remain problematic: we are not aware of the identity of the speaker and of the exact context. It is usually accepted that ξεῖνος refers to Sosibius.160 The mention of the temple of Hera at Argos (45) is seen by most scholars as an indication that the person quoted speaking is from Argos and that Sosibius had won a victory in some Argive athletic contest—probably the Heraea or Hecatombea.161 The phrase ἀμφοτέρων ὁ ξεῖνος ἐπήβολος does not necessarily imply athletic victories. ἀμφοτέρων could refer to two athletic victories, probably at Argos,162 or to two of Sosibius’s virtues (e.g. his hospitality and munificence).163 Line 46 complicates matters further: ὣς φαμένωι δώσει τις ἀνὴρ ὁμόφωνον ἀοιδήν. Problems surround the use of ὁμόφωνον, an improvement upon the papyrus reading (ὁμόφρονος). Found in poetry before Callimachus only in Aeschylus Agamemnon 158 (“the dirge was exclaimed in harmony with his oracle” tr. Fraenkel), the adjective produces the following meaning here: “and to him after he has spoken in this manner a man will give a song in agreement (i.e. with his previous

 160 So Barigazzi 1951, see also following note, and Fuhrer 1992: 161–162. 161 Barigazzi 1951: 416–417. 162 Lelli/Parlato 2008: 63; see, however Fuhrer 1992: 162–163. 163 D’Alessio 2007: 688n24.

64  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies speech).” What exactly one is to understand by “giving a song” remains unclear.164 Perhaps it suggests the composition of a song in accordance with whatever has already been said before. Strangely, the action of giving a song is placed in the future; but in the following line the poet states that he heard (past tense) about this offering—the offering suggested in the preceding speech—from other persons. The future of the quoted speaker (δώσει) coincides with Callimachus’s present and so, from the point of view of the Argive man, Callimachus may very well be the poet who will provide the song in accordance with what the Argive man has said.165 If this is so, line 46 would not belong to the poet but to the person quoted speaking, and τοῦτο would refer to everything that comes before. So instead of simply providing the song connected with Argos from his temporal point of view, Callimachus presents it as a prediction (prophecy) embedded in the speech of another person.166 Alternatively, and perhaps more likely, especially if the persona loquens is Sosibius, the victor expresses his determination to consecrate statues at Argos. It is possible in this case that the speaker predicts that a future poet will immortalize his decision to break with tradition by representing the Charites as dressed. By reporting what he has heard from others as regards this intention of Sosibius, Callimachus fulfills his prediction. This interpretation implies that the speaker is cognizant of the importance of his decision to alter the representation of the Charites. The speaker suggests (perhaps to the Argives) erecting statues of the Charites, which are not going to be naked any more, but clad. It is, therefore, likely that the speech includes an aition concerning the representation of the Charites in Argos. Pausanias informs us that ancient, and probably dressed, statues of the Charites adorned the pronaos of Hera’s temple (2.17.3).167 As far as we can tell, the representation of the Charites as dressed was not canonical. The exact connection between this Argive aition and Sosibius’s victory is not clear.

 164 In Homer, it usually describes the gift of poetic talent (ἀοιδή; e.g. Il. 13.730) conferred upon a human by a divine agent like the Muses (e.g. Od. 8.63–64 for Demodokos). However, in our text the accusative ἀοιδήν does not signify “talent in composing songs” but “song” and the subject of the verb is not a divine being but a mortal man (τις ἀνήρ). At Euripides Tr. 1244, Hecuba declares that it is the Trojans and their miseries that will provide the Muses of future men with songs and not the other way around; cf. Lee 1976 ad 1242–1245. 165 Sevieri 1998: 201. 166 For prophetic discourse in Callimachus’s epinicians cf. also Victoria Berenices fr. 54i.1–15 Harder = 156.1–15 Massimilla. 167 Lehnus 2004: 205–206.

χάρις  65

The mention perhaps of an Argive victory of Sosibius and the ensuing celebrations could have suggested such a “digression.” At the same time the consecration of the statues of the Charites could be a foil to Sosibius’s offering at Pelusium. If that is the case, the poet underlines Sosibius’s megaloprepeia and his piety representing him supporting the cult of the gods, as Theocritus does for Ptolemy II Philadelphus in Idyll 17. The fact that the city of Argos had been responsible since the end of the fifth century for the administration of the Nemean Games,168 where Sosibius won one of his two recent victories, could be another reason for the inclusion of such an aition in Callimachus’s elegy. In addition, the Victoria Berenices consistently creates links between the Ptolemaic dynasty and Argos as the ancestral hearth of the royal family.169 On the other hand, it is quite likely that the Charites had epinician relevance for the praise of Sosibius’s victory. Pindar represents the personified Charis dripping beauty or glory upon the victor as if it were a liquid substance (Olympian 6.76): αἰδοία ποτιστάξῃ Χάρις εὐκλέα μορφάν “reverent Charis will drop wellfamed beauty.”170 More generally, in Olympian 7, victory seems to be attributed to the benign influence of Charis’s gaze (10–12). Indeed, Olympian 7 associates χάρις with musical accompaniment and represents her as a divine inspirer of bloom and freshness of life. In this capacity in epinician discourse Charis can boost an athlete’s prospects of victory. The association gains in importance if one remembers that the victor is traditionally represented as a graceful and attractive young man. At Isthmian 3/4.90b, it is the poet that instills χάρις with his poem on the laudandus. The transference of this capacity to the mortal poet is to be seen in conjunction first with the epinician poet’s collaboration with the Charites in celebrating athletic victories and second with the ability that epinician poets have to confer poetic immortality upon the laudandus. Within Pindar’s poetic universe kleos disseminated by the epinician poet is the only form of immortality that human beings can aspire to without causing divine displeasure. The mythological and metapoetic meanings are combined: Charis gives immortality and so does the poet through his poetry. Against this background, the dedication of the statues of the Charites should be seen within the circuit of χάρις as the victor is returning the benefaction of the goddesses who helped him win. Further, the statues are a parallel, if not competitive, praise form.171 In addition to the χάρις that the praise poet bestows upon  168 S.G. Miller 1982: 106–107; 1989: 20–23, 57. 169 Kampakoglou 2016a, 2017 with references. 170 Giannini 2013: 464 ad loc. 171 See especially Fearn 2013.

66  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies Sosibius through his poetry, the statues are further means of spreading Sosibius’s kleos, guaranteeing, at the same time, the three goddesses’ benevolence towards himself, his king, and the latter’s subjects. If that is indeed the case, Callimachus reworks in a rather elaborate way the social aspect of athletic victories he finds in archaic epinicians.

Divine support The role of the Charites in Sosibius’s athletic, or political, successes is open to doubt since the text is extremely lacunose. However, the openings of both elegies suggest that Callimachus sees his elegies as tokens of gratitude to Zeus, and Zeus and Nemea respectively, for the victories won by his patrons. These addresses are the only indication in Callimachus, or Hellenistic epinician poetry for that matter, of the involvement of gods in the victory praised. The religious aura suggested by the all-pervasive presence of the gods in Pindar’s odes sets his epinician discourse apart from that of his Hellenistic imitators. Pindar repeatedly stresses that besides hard work, expenditures and innate prowess, the athlete needs the benevolence of the gods to secure a victory. This striking difference between the two poets is predicated on the different societal and religious status of the victors praised by Pindar and Callimachus respectively. Certainly, Ptolemy II Philadelphus is represented as a recipient of Zeus’s benefactions in Theocritus 17. Berenice I is rendered a goddess by Aphrodite at Theocritus 15.106–108 and 17.45–50. But they are still gods within the Ptolemaic pantheon along with Heracles, Alexander, and the older Olympians as suggested by the opening scene of Theocritus 17. Furthermore, Berenice II received divine honors along with her consort in her own lifetime,172 and it is quite likely that Callimachus could not stress divine involvement in the way Pindar did without compromising her victory as expression of her personal royal charisma. Pindar’s epinician discourse mystifies victory into a symbolic religious experience, the importance of which he explains to the victor and his community. This discourse is supported by his parallelism with Teiresias in Nemean 1 and interpreters of oracular responses generally.173 In so doing, Pindar takes this opportunity to reveal to his audience the hierarchal structure of the cosmos. The victor operates within the framework of his mortality, and this is subordinated to, and

 172 Quaegebeur 1989: 95–99. 173 Sigelman 2016: 3–4, 45 with n. 42. Note also Maslov 2015: 195, who interprets μάντις “as the one who reveals or decodes.”

Divine support  67

juxtaposed with, the overarching world of the gods. The victory is the moment when these worlds touch, but the victor can never hope to cross the great divide between the two worlds as Heracles or Alexander did, without incurring divine displeasure. Any such attempt is viewed as hubris and is to be avoided. Instead of actual immortality, Pindar and Bacchylides offer the consolation of the immortality of kleos that they can bestow through their poetry. It is important to note that unlike Theocritus (Idylls 16, 17) and Posidippus (AB 78, 87, 88), Callimachus’s epinicians do not make any such claim with regard to the kleos he offers to his patrons. This is a remarkable difference that speaks volumes about the different path that Callimachus follows. The framework of mortality within which Pindar operates in the praise of his laudandus is lost for Callimachus. The model that he represents approximates the Egyptian conception of the king as a god on earth, on par with the gods in heaven.174 The status that Callimachus’s victors enjoy puts pressure on the traditional dichotomy of praise poetry for men, which includes epinicians, and praise poetry for gods (i.e. hymns), rendering several of the elements that were traditional in Pindar’s times obsolete.175 On the other hand, the Victoria Berenices is not just an epinician elegy. It is also the opening poem of the second half of the Aetia. Along with her sister elegy, the Coma Berenices, this elegy offers a new structural framework that replaced the narrator’s discussion with the Muses in the first half of the Aetia.176 In this regard, Berenice II’s status is enhanced as the structural analogue of the divine Muses. When Callimachus designates Berenice II as ἱερὸν αἷμα θεῶν, this phrase reflects Berenice’s divine status.177 This would have been impossible for Pindar.178 Callimachus’s other use of ἱερὸς in the Victoria Sosibii is too fragmentary to allow any certainty about its implications. Although a similar proposition cannot be maintained for Sosibius, it has to be conceded that the kourotrophic relationship between the Nile and Sosibius represents the laudandus as divine offspring, thus bringing him close to the heroic infants of epinician mythology. In light of such considerations, one can analyze the avoidance of admonitions to Berenice II or generally of gnōmai along similar lines. Unlike Pindar, who can engage in directing Hieron, Theron or Arcesilaus with regard to the exercise  174 Kampakoglou 2013b: 327 with references. 175 Prioux 2012 on Theocritus. Bremmer 2008 discusses the distinction between gods and mortals in epinician poetry, making the important point that praise of god is involved in the praise of the victor. 176 Parsons 1977: 50; Massimilla 2010: 49–53; Harder 2012: vol. 2, 391–392. 177 Harder 2012: vol. 2, 397–398. 178 Bremer 2008: 12–17.

68  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies of their rule, Callimachus does not advise Berenice. In referring to their monarch, both Callimachus (Hymn 1.85–90) and Theocritus (17.13–15) refer to the ease at, and efficience with, which Ptolemy II Philadelphus deals with all matters. This is an indirect way to praise Ptolemy’s divine status.179 Callimachus need not direct gods, nor is there any reason for him to dwell on the issue of innate excellence, the Pindaric φυά, to the lenghts that Theocritus 17 or Posidippus do. In this regard, both Posidippus and Theocritus are actually closer to Pindar. This difference in the handling of epinician motifs among the three poets also reflects the rapid changes that the Ptolemaic court was undergoing and their different expectations with regard to the praise of the ruler and his family.

Envy In the final section of the Victoria Sosibii, Callimachus expresses his fear that his praise may incur the disbelief and anger of the audience. Pindar usually fears that excess in the praise of the victorious athlete (κόρος) will cause the mistrust and envy of the people (φθόνος).180 Callimachus, on the other hand, postulates, that the “tongue of the people” will turn against him not only if he praises Sosibius beyond measure, but also if he fails to meet their expectations. The ensuing two lines contain some traces that could give us an idea of the original text. Line 59 begins with a participle in the dative (probably μεμφομένωι as Pfeiffer suggested). The following letters do not allow a certain understanding of the syntax. Arguably there is someone accusing Callimachus for his praise of Sosibius; his main argument could be given by the second half of line 59 (οὐδέπ[οτ’ ἐ]σθλὸν ἔρ̣εξεν): Sosibius never performed anything ἐσθλόν. Alternatively, and perhaps more likely, Callimachus defends Sosibius by declaring that “no one could accuse him that he never performed a noble deed.” The text is lacunose and the exact meaning is not certain. Nevertheless, Callimachus seems to demarcate his role as laudator and protect his laudandus against slanderers and political rivals. Despite its immediate context ἐ]σθλὸν ἔρ̣εξεν should not be taken to refer necessarily to Sosibius’s athletic victory. In Idyll 16.74 and 17.6, Theocritus used ῥέζω in order to talk about the heroic feats of past heroes like Achilles and Ajax; in both cases, the heroic feat described is viewed as a condition on the part of the poet for the discovery of a suitable

 179 Cf. Il. 3.380–381, 6.138; Od. 3.231, 4.805; and Pind. Pyth. 9.67–70. 180 Cf. e.g., Pythian 1.81–84. For envy in epinician poetry, see Kurke 1991: 195–224; Bulman 1992; Most 2003; Athanassaki 2012: 191–202.

Envy  69

patron and the composition of praise poems in his honor. In Idyll 16, the itinerant poet is still searching for such a man, while in Ιdyll 17 the poet has found his patron in the person of Ptolemy II. Although Theocritus does not talk about the composition of epinician odes, but of encomia, his discourse seems akin to epinician praise: for instance, both Achilles (e.g. Nemean 3.43–52) and Ajax (e.g. Nemean 7; 8), mentioned in both poems as suitable role models for Theocritus’s laudandi, are used by Pindar as foils to the victorious athletes.181 Callimachus’s meaning at this point could be restored to a certain degree by the similar use in Pythian 9.95– 96 (κεῖνος αἰνεῖν καὶ τὸν ἐχθρόν | παντὶ θυμῷ σύν τε δίκᾳ καλὰ ῥέζοντ’ ἔννεπεν): addressing Telesicrates’s fellow citizens, Pindar admonishes them to grant Telesicrates the honor he is entitled to, even if they are not his friends, since his victories have benefited the whole city. Callimachus could have stressed the social benefit of his laudandus’s victories and the ties connecting Sosibius with his fellow citizens. The last line of POxy. 1793 col. x preserves traces of the adjective ψευδής and a word beginning with the letters καπ. Although the text is far from secure, one could argue in favor of καπνός; this is found in a similar context in Pindar’s Nemean 1.24–25, addressed to Chromius, Hieron’s general (λέλογχε δὲ μεμφομένοις ἐσλοὺς ὕδωρ καπνῷ φέρειν | ἀντίον. τέχναι δ’ ἑτέρων ἕτεραι).182 Just before this, Pindar presents himself as Chromius’s ξεῖνος standing at the entrance of Chromius’s house and singing. A rich feast has been organized in honor of the important guest who has come to take part in the celebrations. The lines in question come straight after the praise of Chromius’s generosity and hospitality. In a similar way, in Callimachus’s elegy the generalization on truth and the role of the epinician poet could have come straight after the praise of Sosibius’s magnanimity.

 181 For the Pindaric elements in Idylls 16 and 17, see Perrotta 1925: 5–29. 182 This is not the place for a detailed discussion of these notoriously difficult lines. Σ ad Nem. 1.34e is the only rendition which respects the Greek of the text; cf. especially Privitera 1972: 38–41 and Nisetich 1980: “for those who criticize the noble | are doomed | to carry water against smoke!” Pace Braswell 1992 ad loc., I consider Waring’s (1982) analysis of the syntax, with minor modifications, to be the correct one. The accusative ἐσθλούς should be taken as the object of the participle and not of λέλογχε. μεμφομένοις is a dative of possession; see K.-G. vol. 1, 416 and Schwyzer vol. 2,143.

70  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies

Conclusion: The Poet’s Voice No discussion of Pindar’s influence on Callimachus as an epinician poet can be complete without discussing Callimachus’s self-referential representation in the body of his elegies. Despite its fragmentary condition, the proem of the Victoria Berenices has revealed many of the conventions and techniques that Callimachus employed in his epinician poetry and allowed us to expand our knowledge of the reception of Pindaric poetry in Hellenistic times. By contrast, the rest of the elegy is preserved in a hopeless condition with some fragments not connected with each other in an obvious manner. They have been arranged on the basis of Probus’s narrative about the encounter of Heracles with Molorcus (fr. 60c Harder = 145 Massimilla). Even so, some fragments can reveal further important information concerning Callimachus’s epinician strategy. In this respect, fr. 54h Harder = 154 Massimilla is important for the information it imparts on the role of the authorial voice. The fragment belongs to Molorcus’s second encounter with Heracles. Heracles has already killed the lion, and Molorcus has gotten rid of the mice that were troubling him. This was described in fr. 54c Harder = 149 Massimilla, which also gave the aition for the mousetrap. The poet does not seem to have given any details concerning Heracles’s labor, save its outcome. If one may judge from the second line of fr. 54h Harder = 154 Massimilla, the poet probably manipulated the expectations of his audience in such a way so as to give them the impression that he would describe Heracles’s victory at a later point, in the form of a flashback narrative by Heracles. However, Heracles does not deliver this embedded narrative in all its details, but instead focuses on a part of it, Athena’s prophecy to him. The external narrator refers to a textual future in which he shall present the narrative through Heracles; Heracles’s flashback narrative embeds a prophecy that refers to a future reified by Heracles’s completed exploit and the subsequent foundation of the Nemean and Isthmian Games. This intricate play with narrative time parallels the similar prophecy about the representation of the Charites in the Victoria Sosibii, making such narrative games a salient feature of Callimachus’s narrative art. The concept of Athena delivering a prophecy to Heracles with regard to the Nemean Games derives from Bacchylides 13.183 However, the rapid transition between temporal phases, can be compared more fruitfully with the prophecy of Medea in Pythian 4 and the intricate arrangement of temporal levels in that poem.  183 In Bacchylides 13, the killing of the Nemean Lion is the aition for the pankration event and not the games. This divergence does not limit its importance as a Callimachean intertext.

Conclusion: The Poet’s Voice  71

Pythian 4 is also an important intertext in view of its intercultural theme and the Argonautic myth, perfunctorily alluded to in lines 14–15 of the proem of the Victoria Berenices. Callimachus refers to his readers or audience explicitly, something unprecedented in the rest of his oeuvre. The reader or audience is invited (αὐτὸς ἐπιφράσσαιτο) to pick up the threads of the narrative and supply all the parts that have been omitted for the sake of brevity (τάμοι δ’ ἄπο μῆκος ἀοιδῇ). Pindar often expresses his anxiety about the feeling of satiety (κόρος) his poetry might cause and the possible effect this could have on the audience’s reception of his ode (e.g. Pythian 1.81–84; 9.76–79). He attributes to the audience an active role in the preservation and spreading of his poetic message and especially of the victor’s kleos. Still, he never speaks so explicitly about this, but rather resorts to gnōmai and maxims about his own art.184 A similar feeling is expressed by Callimachus in the Victoria Sosibii but with regard to his praise of Sosibius’s beneficent societal presence, rather than the mythological narrative. Even so, the principle in both poems is the same: praise of one’s virtues causes mistrust and envy; similarly, worn-out mythological narratives are tiresome and can deprive the poet of the attention of his audience. In the context of an epinician poem, such a statement recalls and remodels a traditional motif, a τεθμός as Pindar himself calls it (Nemean 4.33, τὰ μακρὰ δ’ ἐξενέπειν ἐρύκει με τεθμός), of epinician poetry.185 By Hellenistic times, the episode of Heracles’s struggle with the lion featured in numerous epic (and lyric) narratives on Heracles’s exploits and their artistic representations. In view of the epinician identity of the elegy, the avoidance of this topic could be taken to invite the reader to fill in the missing part by resorting to Bacchylides’s epinician ode that narrates this episode. At any rate, Callimachus’s Abbruchsformel (“break-off formula”) signals that he leaves out a wornout subject. The aim is not only to avoid the feeling of excess that elaborate narratives could cause, but also the repetition of trite subject matter. This choice agrees not only with his own metapoetic taste as famously expressed in the Aetiaprologue (fr. 1.24–26 Harder = Massimilla) but also follows Pindar’s “anxiety” to innovate. Nemean 8.20–21 attests to the importance that Pindar attributed to varying his traditional discourse in praise of the victor (πολλὰ γὰρ λέλεκται, νεαρὰ δ’ ἐξευρόντα δόμεν βασάνῳ | ἐς ἔλεγχον, ἅπας κίνδυνος). If the meaning is similar here, then one should follow Pfeiffer (1949–1953: vol. 1, 61 ad fr. 57) in associating

 184 For the role of the audience in Pindar see Hubbard 1985: 159 and Loscalzo 2003: 49n84, 66. 185 Hubbard 1985: 28–29 and Loscalzo 2003: 68. One could also compare several Pindaric passages: e.g. Pyth. 4.246–248 (D’Alessio 2007: vol. 2, 374–375n18) or Isthm. 1.60–62 (Corbato 1980: 241).

72  Performing Praise in Ptolemaic Alexandria: Callimachus’s Epinician Elegies these lines with the metapoetic Aetia prologue, all the more so in view of the prologue’s indisputable Pindaric associations.186 By alluding to his metapoetic manifesto, Callimachus strengthens the connections between the two parts of the Aetia. The similarity in thought as well as the road imagery that Callimachus borrows from Pindar (Paean 7b.9–14; Pythian 4.247–8; Nemean 6.53–54) warrant the conclusion that Pindar’s texts had influenced the articulation of Callimachus’s metapoetic manifesto. Apart from its metapoetic significance, Callimachus’s decision to avoid a detailed description of Heracles’s fight with the lion allows one to reach an important conclusion about the character of his elegy. Instead of focusing on Heracles’s exploit, Callimachus employed it as a narrative background against which he presented some, or even several interrelated, minor aitia which had attracted his interest: the invention of the mousetrap by Molorcus (fr. 54c Harder = 149 Massimilla) and the aition for the celery wreath of the Nemean (and Isthmian) Games (fr. 54i = 156 Massimilla).187 This narratorial incongruity or imbalance,188 so to speak, throws into clear relief the Pindaric nature of Callimachus’s epinician. As Ruck and Matheson (1968: 28) explain, “Pindar ordinarily adopts a tangential approach to the events narrated, describing the lesser aspects, the concomitant details rather than the main line of the plot; and thereby he succeeds in preserving the presentational brilliance of lyric poetry without succumbing unduly to the discursive elements in narration.” Callimachus praised Berenice’s victory, but did so with an epinician, which bears characteristic traits of Pindaric poetry—that is, marginalization of the main episode and asymmetric emphasis on marginal mythological episodes.

 186 N.J. Richardson 1986: 391–392, Hopkinson 1988: 88–89, Braswell 1988 ad Pyth. 4.248, Asper 1997: 66–67, and Harder 2002: 206–211. 187 Livrea 1980: 232 ad 1 and A.D. Morrison 2007b: 7–9 and 190. 188 Mori 2008: 36–37.

Chapter 2 The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88) Introduction Among the nine categories, into which the poet or the ancient editor grouped the 112 epigrams of P. Mil. Vogl. VIII 309, there are eighteen epigrams (AB 71–88)1 which celebrate victories won in horse-events in some of the major Panhellenic games. The epigrams are inscribed as Hippika and praise victories of various laudandi. Among them, one comes across an epigram dedicated to the Pythian victory in the chariot-race of Callicrates of Samos (AB 74), the notable politician who served under Ptolemy II,2 as well as epigrams celebrating members, predominantly female, of the royal family, such as Queen Berenice I (AB 87–88) and the royal princess Berenice Syra (AB 78–82) or Queen Berenice II, depending on how one identifies the laudanda. The rest of the group celebrates victories won by various persons either unknown or known to some degree from elsewhere.3 A preliminary result apropos of Posidippus’s clientele is that it is similar to that of Callimachus: highstanding officials of Ptolemaic bureaucracy and members of the royal family. The geographic dispersion of the laudandi is limited, in comparison, for example, with other parts of the anthology like the Lithika, with four of them coming from Thessaly (AB 71, 83–85) and one from Sparta (AB 75). The rest of the epigrams are either too lacunose to reveal the city of origin of the victor (AB 73, 77) or do not dwell on this detail at all (AB 72, 76, 86 [perhaps Messenian like his horse?]).

 1 Throughout this chapter I use the text and the numbering of the edition of Posidippus by Austin and Bastianini (AB). 2 Bingen 2002. 3 AB 72 praises the Nemean victory of Molykos. GB ad loc. have raised the possibility that this is Cassander’s general (Diodorus Siculus XIX.54). The time gap, however, is quite large and the identification dubious. On the other hand, Etearchos, the laudandus of AB 76, has been tentatively identified by Thompson (cited in apparatu critico ad loc. by AB) with the nomarch mentioned in the Zenon archives. On the whole, one ought to bear in mind that the fact that we lack information about Posidippus’s victors does not mean that they were not well known at their time. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-003

74  The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88) Scholars have shown beyond a doubt that Posidippus is well acquainted with previous literature: didactic poetry, scientific prose, archaic lyric, and contemporary Hellenistic poetry are only some of his subtexts.4 But this is only one side of the coin. Posidippus established himself in a genre with a great inscriptional tradition behind it.5 When Posidippus came to compose epigrams, he found a rich epigraphical tradition and practice, which contained various standard topoi and motifs. Posidippus made use of them, endowing them with the heritage of lyric poetry. However, one ought to be careful not to press the distinction between epigram and elegy especially with some of Posidippus’s larger compositions that could easily pass off as autonomous elegies. In the case of the Hippika, as we are going to see, Posidippus is the recipient of two branches of poetic tradition, one personal, including the great lyric odes of Simonides, Pindar and Bacchylides, and the other anonymous and inscriptional. This duality influences the way in which Posidippus reflects on his archaic predecessors, if not actually views them through the lens of epinician inscriptions. This is not unique to Posidippus. The Victoria Sosibii exhibits a similar wavering between inscriptional and lyric discrouse. This involvement of both poets with juxtaposing generic traditions is an important issue to which I return below. The example of the Victoria Sosibii demonstrates that the combination of inscriptional style with lyric elements deriving from Pindar was possible in larger compositions but also in Posidippus’s much smaller poems. The ensuing discussion proceeds from the assumption that for all his uniqueness as an epigrammatist, Posidippus is a poet typical of the cultural ambience in which he composed his poetry, and that, as a doctus poeta, he would hardly have neglected Pindar’s poetic patrimony in composing his own epinician poetry. In this respect, I argue that it is natural to assume that his readers would associate his epinician epigrams6 with the odes that archaic epinician poets composed to celebrate the victories of their patrons in various horse-events. My discussion will take into account only passages that seem close to or modelled on Pindar. Bacchylides and Simonides will be brought into the discussion only to strengthen a general point about the reception of archaic epinician poetry in the Hippika.

 4 See e.g. M. Smith 2004: 106 on the Lithika, Kosmetatou 2004: 210–211 on the Andriantopoiika and Sider 2004 on the Oionoskopika. 5 Lelli 2004: 89 for the usus and tradizione epigrafica in Posidippus’s epigrams. 6 Throughout this chapter, I follow Köhnken 2007 in using the terms “agonistic” or “epinician” epigrams interchangeably. In both cases, I refer to epigrams inscribed, or represented as if they were inscribed, on monuments to praise athletic victories.

A Double Tradition: Agonistic Epigrams and Epinician Odes  75

A Double Tradition: Agonistic Epigrams and Epinician Odes The first inscriptional agonistic epigrams date from the 6th century BCE, almost a century before the development of epinician lyric. Although epinician epigrams were from the beginning a parallel praise form,7 even by the time of Hellenistic poets they could not claim for themselves the refined and exalted character of the kindred epinician odes. The apparent decline of epinician poetry in the period following the death of Pindar and Bacchylides left the field open to epinician epigrams, which now witnessed an unprecedented growth. Joachim Ebert (1972: 18– 19) has emphasized that after the second half of the fifth century agonistic epigrams become more elaborate, using motifs that until then were found predominantly or exclusively in epinician odes. To be more specific, what marks the second half of the fifth century as a turning point in the history of agonistic epigrams is the preponderance from that time on of what Paola Angeli Bernardini (2000: 32) has termed dati accessorii,8 elements, that is, that appertain to the praise of other family victories, the victor’s city, the exceptional quality of the victor, the description of the defeat of his opponents, the record of his victories, and hymn elements (i.e. address to a divinity, prayer for further victories etc.).9 All these were generic motifs that were found consistently in the epinician poetry of Pindar and Bacchylides, so that their appearance in agonistic epigrams is a case of borrowing from the more cultivated but declining genre of epinician odes. This tendency is more evident in the case of a doctus Hellenistic poet as Posidippus, who not only follows the evolution of the genre in the composition of his epigrams but also endows them with a deep knowledge of previous poetry.

 7 Angeli Bernardini 2000: 29–30; Dickie 2008: 14. 8 Angeli Bernardini (2000: 32) has divided the information conveyed by epinician epigrams, and odes, in dati indispensabili and dati accessorii. The former include documentary or factual information—e.g. name of the athlete, name of his father, city of origin, sport and games in which the victory was won. 9 Ebert (1972: 19) and Angeli Bernardini (1992: 968; 2000: 34) offer several examples from both epinician odes and agonistic epigrams. FGE 43 (= 26 Ebert) constitutes a unique specimen of this tendency. Nine out of the twelve lines of this fifth-century inscription are taken up with a detailed record of Nikolaidas’s athletic victories, probably fashioned on the model of Pindaric passages such as Ol. 7.81–87 and others; cf. also Ebert 1972: 93 and Page 1981: 262.

76  The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88)

δαπάνη in Pindar and Posidippus AB 77 constitutes an interesting example of Posidippus’s interaction with Pindaric poetry. The epigram, which celebrates an Olympic victory in the chariot race, the most illustrious of events at the games, is preserved in an extremely lacunose state. Although we cannot tell who is speaking, or what the name of the laudandus is, we learn about his three previous Olympic victories, probably won in the same event. Interestingly, though, this is the first and only time in the collection we hear of the expenses which are involved for those participating in the chariot race: ἅρμ̣[ατι ±11 ] ̣ τελέωι τρὶς Ὀ̣[λύμ]π̣ι̣α νικῶ Εὐ ̣ [ ±13 ο]ὐ̣κ ὀλίγαι δαπ̣[άνα]ι α ̣[ ±15 ] κ̣ομιδᾶς ̣ [ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ] ̣ [ ε̣ἴ γ̣’ ἀ̣[ρ]κ̣ε̣ῖ δόξαι, λείπεται οὐ[δ]ὲν ἐμοί With the chariot […] three times I have won in Olympia Eu[…] with not a little expense […] of care […] if it is enough for fame, I miss nothing

Posidippus is reworking a traditional or generic motif of lyric epinicians. The same term (δαπάνη) appears in Pindar (Isthmian 4.47) in conjunction with horse racing. The Cleonymids, the laudandus’s ancestors, participated in the chariot race at Panhellenic games without minding the expenses involved. The emphasis on δαπάνη in AB 77 seems, however, qualitatively different from Pindar’s outlook. Isthmian 6.10–13, a most characteristic specimen of Pindaric ideology on victory, is enough to throw into relief the fundamental difference in the ways that both poets treated this generic motif: εἰ γάρ τις ἀνθρώπων δαπάνᾳ τε χαρείς καὶ πόνῳ πράσσει θεοδμάτους ἀρετάς σύν τέ οἱ δαίμων φυτεύει δόξαν ἐπήρατον, ἐσχατιαῖς ἤδη πρὸς ὄλβου βάλλετ’ ἄγκυραν θεότιμος ἐών For if a man delights in the expenditure, and through effort fulfills the excellence given him by the gods, and alongside him a god sows the seed of fame that brings happiness, this man, being honored by the gods, has already thrown his anchor at the furthest edges of blissfulness.

Pindaric Myths and Posidippus’s Figures of the Past  77

In just five lines, Pindar has given a précis, as it were, of his viewpoint.10 The effective combination of money spent with athletic toil and inborn excellence, along with divine support, forms the foundation upon which any potentially successful athletic endeavor ought to base itself. Divine support at the right moment leads to victory and places the victor in a state of “bliss” (ὄλβος). This is the furthest he may go in the honors he receives from the gods. This piece of Pindaric sophia is repeated throughout his odes, and indicates the socio-religious connotations that δαπάνη acquires in his epinician discourse.11 So, whereas Pindar goes to lengths to invest such a mundane piece of business with the grandeur of his sublime style and almost religious ideology, Posidippus retains, it would seem, a more down-to-earth approach. The last line of the epigram, and especially the conditional clause (ε̣ ἴ γ̣’ ἀ̣[ρ]κ̣ε̣ῖ δόξαι), seems to equate the victor’s expenses with the kleos he has won (λείπεται οὐ[δ]ὲν ἐμοί):12 actually the fame that the laudandus has won compensates for his expenses. Ιn Pindar, wealth is a means through which one can prove his inherent potential for excellence. Posidippus promotes and represents wealth as equal to the fame that the victor has won and almost as an independent reason for praise.

Pindaric Myths and Posidippus’s Figures of the Past Be that as it may, in epinician epigrams one still misses the wealth of gnōmai and the extensive use of myth found in the elaborate odes of Pindar and Bacchylides. A similar conclusion has been reached after the detailed discussion of Callimachus’s epinician output, especially the Victoria Sosibii, demonstrating the affinities between that elegy and Posidippus’s poetry. In fact, allusions to myths in agonistic epigrams, be they inscriptional or literary (e.g. Posidippus’s), remain an exception to the rule.13 This tendency is to be expected in a poetic form which was meant to offer succinct praise rather than accompany a full-blown performance. Nonetheless, in the case of Posidippus’s Hippika, we can see that a change has taken place. In epinician odes, myths allowed the poet to transport his laudandus  10 Willcock 1995: 15. 11 Cf. also Ol. 5.15, Isthm. 1.42, 5.5. On δαπάνη in Pindar, see Szastyńska-Siemion 1977; Hubbard 1985: 14–15 with n. 12 and more extensively 108; Campagner 1988: 82–84; and Kurke 1991: 98– 99. On πόνος in epinician poetry, see Szastyńska-Siemion 1971. 12 I find Nisetich’s (2005: 33) rendition (“if it’s enough for glory, I miss nothing”) more plausible than that of Austin (“though this suffices for fame, I have nothing left at all”) or Bastianini (“anche se questo basta per la gloria, nulla mi resta”) [My emphasis]. 13 Köhnken 2007: 298.

78  The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88) and audience from the here and now of the performance to the mythological world of unaging gods and heroes.14 Myths often serve propagandistic purposes, but on the whole they offer foils for the laudandus—that is, paradigms of prowess, which help render the athlete’s victory more prestigious. Indubitably, Posidippus has nothing similar to the elaborate Pindaric myths to offer. Nevertheless, he differentiates himself considerably from most epinician epigrammatists in his attempt to recreate the effect of Pindaric epinician myths in the humble space of a single epigram. In some cases the poet alludes to important athletic figures of the past, especially personages whose victories were praised by Pindar and Bacchylides. The great tyrants of Sicily, especially Hieron I, present in the first part of the Hippika (AB 71–73) through the allusion to his victorious horse Pherenicus, or the Thessalian aristocrats (e.g. Scopads AB 83), have taken the place of Pindar’s heroes as mythological foils, or, to be more precise, as historical figures more suitable for the praise of a newly founded royal dynasty. One can compare Theocritus 16. The eulogist praises Hieron II by evoking Pindar’s praise of Hieron I. In this manner, allusions to Pindar pit Hieron II against his intertextual namesake counterpart. In addition to this interpretation, one has to admit that Hieron I’s Pherenicus had probably acquired “legendary” proportions in athletic minds in the manner of athletes such as Milon or Theagenes of Kroton. Comparison to Heracles is a salient feature that repeatedly permeates the representation of such athletes.15 In this regard, one may speak of the re-invention of athletic or epinician mythology in which successful athletes of the past acquire the quasi-heroic dimensions of mythological personages such as Castor and Heracles in the mind of subsequent generations. Contrary to what one may suppose, the transition is not abrupt nor purely Hellenistic. I would associate this introduction of older athletes into the epinician pantheon, on the one hand, with the mechanics of kleos, as these are described in archaic poetry, and, on the other hand, with a structural element of lyric epinicians—that is, genealogical or historical catalogues. Already in the Homeric epics, characters such as Helen (Il. 6.358) and Achilles are cognizant of their imminent mythologization as suitable subject matter for epic songs. Along with the τύμβος (“barrow”) that one sets up in honor of valiant warriors (Il. 7.89–90), Homeric characters envisage one’s inclusion in poetic tradition as an alternative route to immortalization. A fine instance of how fast this process of mythologization operates can be seen in Odyssey 8. Phemios regales his audience with stories of the Trojan expedition. Odysseus gradually assumes  14 Hölscher 1975: 100–101. 15 Roubineau 2016: 142–144.

Pindaric Myths and Posidippus’s Figures of the Past  79

legendary proportions.16 Throughout the epic, characters such Menelaos and various suitors reminisce about Odysseus’s prowess setting him apart from their respective limitations. Their discourse resembles that of Nestor with his frequent references to the men of yore. In classical times, a similar process is described by Simonides with regard to the fallen in the battle of Plataea.17 Pindar generally allows for a similar route for his victorious athletes. kleos is the only way a mortal man can attain immortality. Within epinician odes, this truth is exemplified not only by the heroic figures employed in myth but also by the lists of victors that have entered the annals of the victor’s family or city. The way in which the Pindaric laudator singles out each of the victor’s ancestors resembles the method of both Homer and Simonides and foreshadows in nuce Posidippus’s practice. If my reading is correct, this would mean that the mythologization or, alternatively fictionalization, of older athletes represents, slightly altered, a Pindaric tendency isolated from the more intricate Pindaric praise discourse. AB 87, for instance, which praises the Olympic victory of Queen Berenice I, evokes the Spartan princess Cynisca explicitly as an example of a female victor but implicitly as a precedent for the deification of a royal woman.18 With regard to the structural demands of epinician discourse, Cynisca’s role as a foil is not different from that of Cyrene in Pythian 9 or Heracles in various other odes. The defining difference is Cynisca’s historicity. However, in the mythological or religious terms in which praise is developed, the lines separating myth from reality become very fine indeed. More importantly, Cynisca’s mythologization prefigures by analogy the mythologization of Berenice I as a victor for future generations. In this manner, the poet foreshadows her immortalization through the mechanism of kleos, in a condensed, yet truly Pindaric, manner. At the same time, the mention of venerable dynastic families (Scopads, Iamids, royal house of Sparta) permits Posidippus to connect the Ptolemies with the history of the great Panhellenic Games and so with mainland Greece, and hence to enhance their prestige.19 The collection opens with an epigram (AB 71) that celebrates the victory of a Thessalian laudandus: οὗτος ὁ μουνοκέλης Αἴθων ἐμὸς ἵ̣[ππος ἐνίκα] κἀγὼ τὴν αὐτὴν Πυθιάδα στ̣[άδιον·]

 16 Thalmann 1984: 162–163; Murnaghan 1987: 148–175. 17 Boedeker 2001; J. Clay 2001. 18 See the in-depth analysis of Fantuzzi 2005: 256–264. 19 For the political significance of athletic victories in archaic and classical times, see Angeli Bernardini 1992: 969 and 971–972.

80  The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88) δὶς δ’ ἀνεκηρύχθην Ἱππόστρ[ατος] ἀ̣θλοφ̣[όρος τ’] ἦ̣ν ἵππος ὁμοῦ κἀγώ, πότνια Θεσσαλία. This single horse of mine, Aethon, was victorious and so was I, during the same Pythian Games, in the race course; twice was my name, Hippostratus, proclaimed, and alongside my horse I carried off the winning prize, blessed Thessaly.

The placement of an epigram for a Thessalian victor at the beginning of the section has been seen as an indication of the importance of Simonides’s epinicians for Thessalian victors. All three great epinician poets were associated at some point in their careers with Thessalian aristocratic clans (Aleuads, Scopads, Echecratids).20 However, Hellenistic poetry repeatedly associates Simonides alone with Thessaly (cf. Theocritus 16.44–45 and Callimachus Aetia III fr. 64.13–14 Harder = 163.13–14 Massimilla). The initial demonstrative pronoun suggests that the speaking person, obviously the owner of the horse, is describing a sculpture depicting his horse. The horse is designated as μουνοκέλης (cf. AB 83). The same word is applied to Hieron’s victorious horse, Pherenicus, in an epigram (Pausanias 8.42. 9 [= 17 Ebert]) inscribed on the base of a sculpture dedicated by Hieron’s son, Deinomenes, and crafted by Onatas (first half of the 5th century BCE).21 Posidippus designates the event, using an adjective employed by the above epigram commemorating the victories of Hieron with Pherenicus. Unlike this epigram, though, Posidippus names the horse, something done in extant epinician odes only for Hieron I’s Pherenicus. If there is a connection, this would suggest the importance of Pherenicus and of his image in archaic epinician poetry for epigrams AB 71–77. At the same time, this first epigram in the Hippika signals the change in priorities that has come about since Pindar. Posidippus calls the horse ἀθλοφόρος, a common designation for horses in agonistic epigrams and poetry.22 Still, Pindar never uses

 20 Molyneux (1992: 117–132) surveys the fragmentary evidence concerning Simonides’s connection with Thessaly. Pindar’s Pythian 10, which celebrates the Pythian victory of Hippokles in the diaulos-race, was commissioned by the Aleuad Thorax. Thessalian overlords appear again in Pindar’s fragments: Thren. 5 fr. 128e(a).9 Sn.-M. mentions a descendent of Aleuas, while Lobel thought he could discern the name of Skopas in the extremely lacunose fr. 60 (b) col. II, 13 Sn.M. (see ap. cr. ad loc.). Bacchylides’s Ode 13 celebrates the victory of the Thessalian Cleoptolemus at the games of Petraia, while Ode 14 the victory of Aristoteles of Larissa. 21 Ebert 1972: 71–73, and Moggi/Osanna 2003 ad loc. 22 e.g. Iliad 9.124; Alcman PMGF 1.48; Ibycus PMGF 6.6; Callimachus Hymn 5.109.

Pindaric Myths and Posidippus’s Figures of the Past  81

it for horses but only for the victors (cf. Nemean 3.83; 6.23; Olympian 7.7).23 The horse receives precedence of place over its owner who is placed second; this would agree, after all, with the sculpture, which depicted only the horse. In AB 73 it is the victorious horse which is presented talking in the first person about the race. In its self-representation, the horse puts the emphasis on the way in which it competed (2, κέντρα καὶ ἐξώ̣[σεις οὐδ’ ἐπιδεξά]μενος, “without receiving spurs or thrusts”): the horse prides itself on not having to wait for his jockey to whip it to get started like most horses. The phrasing and the general context recalls Pindar’s representation of Hieron’s victory with Pherenicus in the κέλης race at the Olympic Games of 476 BCE (Olympian 1.20–23): ὅτε παρ’ Ἀλφεῷ σύτο δέμας (20) ἀκέντητον ἐν δρόμοισι παρέχων, κράτει δὲ προσέμειξε δεσπόταν, Συρακόσιον ἱπποχάρμαν βασιλῆα·

when quickly by the banks of Alpheus [Pherenicus] ran, without being spurred on during the race, he mixed with victory his master, the Syracusan king, who delights in horses.

Pindar’s description of the victorious race focuses on the adjective ἀκέντητον. This implies the horse’s determination to win the victory for his master. Posidippus’s κέντρα καὶ ἐξώ̣[σεις harks back to Pindar’s description.24 Bacchylides (5.36– 49) lacks this detail in his account of Pherenicus’s swiftness in the same race. Nonetheless, by laying the emphasis on this detail, Pindar’s more economical description manages to throw into relief the special bond between the horse and its owner, a central motif throughout Posidippus’s Hippika. In this way, Pindar underlines their common determination to excel and provides an early example of the prominence of the victorious horse.25 So there appears an overt intertextual  23 Outside Pindaric poetry, ἀεθλοφόρος, whenever it is used for people, usually refers to Polydeuces; cf. Hesiod fr. 23a. 39; 198.8; 199.1 M.–W.; Cypria fr. 15.6 West. 24 For the opposite idea see, ‘Parmenon’ AP 13.18.2 [= FGE 1] κεντροραγής with Page 1981 ad loc. 25 AP 5.203.5 (= Asclepiades HE 6) uses Pindar’s expression in a salacious context to describe the amorous encounters of a hetaera named Lycidike with her lovers; cf. Gow and Page 1965 and Sens 2011 ad loc. and p. 37. The epigram is thematically conntected with AP 5.202 (= Ascl. HE 35), attributed to Asclepiades or Posidippus, and seems to imitate it; cf. Sens 2011: 235–236. An interesting network of allusions is thus created with both poets using equine metaphors to describe the sexual activities of prostitutes; for the possible influence of the Hippika on these epigrams see Sens 2011: 37 and 235–236.

82  The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88) dimension to Posidippus’s epigram for Trygaios. The representation of the way in which his horse won the victory finds a close parallel in Pindar’s account of Hieron’s victory in the same event and games two centuries before. Hieron is brought to mind by means of an intertextual allusion as a model of Olympic horsemanship for Posidippus’s laudandus and Pherenicus for Trygaios’s horse. In a way Hieron and Pherenicus have taken the role of ancient heroes as foils to the victor. It is significant that they have entered the realm of athletic myth and so constitute material suitable for the “mythological” allusions of the Hellenistic epinician poet.26 Furthermore, it is neither the poet nor the horse’s owner that talks and compliments the horse’s performance but the victorious horse itself. First person utterances are common in inscribed epigrams accompanying sculptural offerings. Even so, it is uncommon to find a race-horse able to evoke details from the race that Pherenicus ran in 476 BCE, details the horse could have known only if it had read Olympian 1. There could be a kind of humorous side to the epigram that one does not regularly find in Pindar’s epinician odes but does in Simonides’s.27 Another interesting case of Posidippus’s mythological innovations is provided in AB 83 for a Thessalian laudandus. Θεσσαλὸς ὀξ̣[ύταθ’] ἵππος Ὀλύμπια μουνοκέλης τρὶς νικῶν ἄγ[κειτ]α̣ι μνῆμ’ ἱερὸν Σκοπάδαις πρῶτος κ̣[αὶ μ]όνος οὗτος· ἐλέγχετε, τρὶς γὰρ ἐνίκων [ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ἐπ’ Ἀλ]φ̣ειῶι, μάρτυρες Ἰαμίδαι. This Thessalian horse, having won three times the single race at the Olympic Games is dedicated here as a sacred memorial to the descendants of Skopas, he only, first and alone; sons of Iamus, bear witness, test him! for I won three times […] by the banks of Alpheus.

In the fourth line, Posidippus addresses the Iamids as witnesses to the three victories won by the victorious horse. The number of victories in the Olympic Games would cover a time-span of twelve years and may have been seen with mistrust

 26 νεμεοδρομέων in AB 72.3 seems to have been modelled on Bacchylides’s θοάς τ’ Ὀ[λυμ]πιοδρόμους Ἱέρωνος ἵππ[ο]υς (3.4), possibly his coinage. This would reinforce the impression that the representation of the victorious horses in the Hippika tries to capture something of the imposing picture of Hieron’s Pherenicus, which one can find in Bacchylides (3.3–8) and to a lesser degree in Pindar (Ol. 1.18–23). 27 Rawles 2012: 17–25.

Pindaric Myths and Posidippus’s Figures of the Past  83

by some people.28 So the horse challenges those who show mistrust to compete against it and evokes the testimony of the Iamids.29 The mention of them is related to their official function in Olympia. It is reasonable to assume that the mention of the Iamids in an epinician context would evoke in the mind of most educated readers the myth of their origins in Pindar’s Olympian 6. In Olympian 6, Pindar gives the myth of Iamus, the clan’s forefather (24–25), because Hagesias, the laudandus, is his descendant (5).30 The Iamids were connected with the Olympic Games and the shrine there from time immemorial. Pindar quotes Apollo’s prophecy to his child (60–73). According to his story, Apollo granted Iamus an oracle on the Cronian hill where he would divine, hearing a voice “that knows of no lies” (64–66).31 In this sense one can get a clearer picture of what Posidippus is trying to say here by turning to Pindar’s account of the clan in Olympian 6: the Iamids are brought to bear on the horse’s claim, not only as eyewitnesses but also as soothsayers who do not tell lies. Posidippus’s invocation of the Iamids as μάρτυρες (“witnesses”) alludes to a characteristic modality of Pindar’s epinician discourse and thus offers an additional point of contact with Pindar. Boris Maslov (2015: 179) has recently called attention to Pindar’s “self-conscious appropriation of extra-poetic discourse” in order to add authority to his praise discourse. This discourse usually concerns the language of divination and serving as a μάρτυς.32 Maslov posits two meanings for μάρτυς: one “epistemic” (“summoned witness”: the μάρτυς delivers under oath a testimony relevant to the actualities of the laudandus’s victory) and one “partisan” (“oath helper”: the μάρτυς offers their support to the victor and endorses his case, thus making him an appropriate object of praise by Pindar). The lines separating these aspects of the concept of μάρτυς are not always easy to distinguish. In the case of Posidippus’s epigram, for instance, the Iamids offer expert testimony as eye-witnesses of the victory (epistemic function). But as oracles reputed for their reliability and honesty, the Iamids also support the victorious horse’s claim to notoriety and commend it to the attention of Posidippus’s audience (partisan function). Consequently, the Iamids have a double function both as “summoned witnesses” and guarantors of prophetic truth. In this capacity they also resemble the function of Neoptolemos in Pindar’s Nemean 7, who, as Maslov (2015: 231) argues, also serves a double role as witness for Aegenitan

 28 See, however, Jebb 1905: 198–199n2 for similar cases of exceptional horses. 29 On the Iamids, see also Maslov 2015: 196. 30 Cf. Hutchinson 2001: 371–374 and esp. ad 25; Adorjáni 2014: 164–165 on 24f. 31 Cf. Hutchinson 2001: ad 64–70; Adorjáni 2014: 238–239 on 66f. 32 Maslov 2015: 188–201 and 212–232 respectively. See 196, in particular, for the Iamids.

84  The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88) victors and “overseer” (θεμισκόπος) of processions to the shrine. Finally, the allusion to the Iamids’ prophetic role reactivates Pindar’s appropriation of the language of divination in his epinician discourse. Following Pindar, Posidippus underlines that his epigram is an authoritative, professional speech act analogous to prophetic discourse.33 The mention of the Skopads at line 2 suggests the time of the great epinician poets.34 The mention of them here could suggest the tradition of agonistic epigrams that Simonides was considered to have established, an area totally alien to both Pindar and Bacchylides.35 Τhe names of both ancient clans, the Iamids and Skopads, are placed at parallel positions at the end of the pentameters: the poet is trying to throw into relief the ancient grandeur that both names suggest and so to situate his own epigram in the venerable tradition which their names bring to mind. In this way, the two clans, by means of their epinician credentials, are employed as foils and supply a quasi-mythological part for the epigram. What in AB 83 was alluded to with the mention of the famous clan in AB 85 is explicitly spelled out by the Thessalian laudandus himself with the mention of the old glory of Thessaly (3–4, καὶ οὐ κατέλυσα παλαιᾶς | δόξ̣ας̣ ̣ ̣[εἰν] ἵπποις πατρίδα Θεσσαλίαν). The locution παλαιᾶϲ δόξ̣ας̣ ̣ suggests a tone of proud selfproclamation similar to that of Berenice in AB 78.2 (δόξα παλαιόγονος), a possible sign of the rivalry between Thessalian victors and the Ptolemies. ΑΒ 78 was the first epigram in the Berenice subgroup, and the echo could prepare for the transition to epigrams AB 87–88, which are concerned with royal laudandi. With the exception of epigrams AB 72, 73, 76 and 77, in which the origin of the laudandus is unknown, we know that AB 74 was for Callicrates of Samos, AB 75 for a Spartan and AB 86 perhaps for a Messenian victor. There is a tendency in the Hippika to praise royal (Ptolemaic) victories and immediately after that Thessalian ones. The anthologist or the poet could have been trying to suggest to his readers some sort of rivalry, be it political or athletic, between Alexandria and Thessaly. On the other hand, Posidippus could evoke Thessaly’s tradition in race-events as part of his encomiastic strategy to celebrate the recently founded Ptolemaic dynasty by associating it with an aristocratic family of the past. If that is the case, then, the presence of Thessaly in Posidippus can be approached from the angle of mythologization or fictionalization of Thessalian victors.

 33 See Maslov 2015: 191–192, 201. 34 Σ ad Nem. 7.103 notes that Σκοπάδας καὶ Ἀλευάδας εἴωθε Πίνδαρος καλεῖν τοὺς Θεσσαλούς, so Posidippus could have followed Pindaric practice here and used it with the special meaning “Thessalians.” 35 Still AP 13.28 is ascribed to Bacchylides or Simonides.

Pindaric Myths and Posidippus’s Figures of the Past  85

New ground is broken with AB 87, which celebrates the victory of a female victor, Queen Berenice I—a peculiarity we have found before only in Callimachus’s Victoria Berenices. It is further interesting that Cynisca, a Spartan princess and victor, is represented as a foil for the laudanda.36 AB 87 combines a female victor with a female mythological foil. In previous epinician poetry, Pindar represents Cyrene as a foil to the victor in Pythian 9, and Callimachus represents Heracles and Molorcus as foils to Queen Berenice II in the Victoria Berenices. Cynisca is the first laudanda in the chronicles of epinician poetry and so is a suitable parallel for the first royal laudanda of the Ptolemaic dynasty. The fact that Cynisca received a hero-cult in her own country adds a further edge to the epigram, as it suggests a historical analogy for the deification of Berenice I.37 Differently, though, from epinician conventions, the laudanda is said to surpass the kudos of the mythological example (3–4, ὧι τὸ Κυνίσκας | ἐν Σπά[̣ρ]ται χρόνιον κῦδος ἀφειλό-μεθα):38 in Pindar heroes stand on the line that separates divinity from mortality and thus constitute the matchless measure of success and ὄλβος. In AB 87, Berenice is explicitly said to steal Cynisca’s place of prominence among women athletes. The closest one comes to the representation of female athletes in the Pindaric corpus is Cyrene in Pythian 9. Cyrene, a marginal figure, a virile maiden (Pythian 9.6, παρθένον ἀγροτέραν; cf. Ἄρτεμις ἀγροτέρη in Iliad 21.471), exists between the boundaries of the two genders and functions as a foil to the male victorious athlete. Her virginity and quasi-masculinity allow her to retain her athletic dimension and lead to her final deification.39 After her rape by Apollo, she never returns to her premarital wild existence.40 This is not a claim that one can make for our Hellenistic laudandae. Cynisca does not dwell on her marital status, but Berenice I and Arsinoë II were married women whose maturity came to symbolize the prosperity of the kingdom. Berenice II is also praised as a married woman in the Victoria Berenices (fr. 54.1–2 Harder = 143.1–2 Massimilla). On the other hand, the only kind of female athlete that Pindar, and arguably archaic epinician poets in general, would allow in their myths suggests Artemis-like women such as Cyrene and Atalanta, both of whom are mentioned as members of Artemis’s entourage (cf. Callimachus Hymn

 36 Gutzwiller 2005a: 290; see also the general discussion of the character of female sport events in Angeli Bernardini 1995b: 193–197. 37 Fantuzzi 2005: 262. 38 Stephens 2018a: 38 points out that Berenice’s victory in the four-horse race for foals is superior to that of Cynisca since foals are more difficult to train than horses. 39 Fränkel 1975: 445–446. See also Ahlert 1942: 6–9. 40 Kyriakou 1994a: 43–44.

86  The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88) 4.89–224).41 In this respect, one could suggest, Posidippus’s insistence on Berenice’s virginity (AB 79.1; perhaps 80.4) tries to capture something of an Artemis-like figure. Artemis’s connection with chariot racing (Pythian 2.9, ἰοχέαιρα παρθένος), her virginity and her masculine characteristics are the credentials for her introduction to the male-dominated epinician world42 and could suggest her as a foil to Berenice here. On the other hand, Berenice’s maidenhood could also suggest her desirability as a royal bride (cf. Pythian 9. 98–9, which shows affinities with the sixth Homeric Hymn to Aprhodite 15–18).43

Descriptions of Races A number of epigrams are set apart by their insistence on the realistic description of the race (e.g. AB 72, 73, 74 etc.). Thirst for sensational details of horse races (AB 73 and especially 74; 59 Ebert; cf. Callimachus Victoria Berenices fr. 54.7–9 Harder = 143.7–9 Massimilla) is peculiarly un-Pindaric (see, however, Pythian 5.49–53 and Bacchylides 5.37–49).44 Instead of indulging himself in descriptions of victories,  41 The evidence about the role that Artemis played in Ptolemaic propaganda is scant; see Fraser 1972: vol. 1, 195–196. Tondriau 1948 lists three queens (Arsinoë II, Arsinoë III, and Cleopatra I) who were identified with Artemis. To this evidence one should add a ring with intaglio gemstone depicting Artemis now at the Getty Museum in Los Angeles (92. AM.8.8). Pfrommer’s (2001: 39– 40) identification of the Artemis depicted on the ring with Arsinoë II has been called into question; cf. Rotroff 2002. Adorjáni (2017) proposes identifying Artemis in Callimachus’s Hymn to Artemis with Arsinoë II, but his arguments are hardly conclusive. Preferable is Depew’s (2004: 132– 134) general but prudent approach that the prominence of female characters in Ptolemaic court poetry reflects the important role of royal women in Ptolemaic Alexandria. 42 See Ahlert 1942: 20–22. 43 Eroticism is inherent in the representation of victors (e.g. Pindar Ol. 10.103, 9.94, Nem. 3.19), and at times is brought into connection with the marriage prospects of the young laudandus (see also Pyth. 10.58–59). For love imagery in Pindar’s poetry see Bowra 1964: 169–170; Gundert 1935: 40; and Hubbard 1985: 22–23. A suggestion such as this is not influenced by the much debated issue of Berenice’s identity. In Callimachus’s fr. 388 Pf., Berenice II is compared to the virgin goddesses, Athena and Artemis (fr. 388.10–11 Pf.), but the exact context of the comparison is now lost—perhaps it involved an account of her military exploits; cf. Hyg., Astr. II 24. Virginity could have been a piece of poetic imagery that should not be taken literally, at least not any more than the representation of Arsinoë II as the virgin goddess Athena in the Oionoskopika (AB 36); cf. also Clayman 2012: 124–127. 44 Norwood 1945: 29–30 gives a list of passages that describe the circumstances of the victory in Pindar. See also Jebb 1905: 56 and Hornblower 2004: 342n43 with older bibliography. Add Isthm. 4.49–52, which the scholiast believed to describe the way Melissos competed in the pankration (cf. Σ Pind. Isthm. 4.77b–c). For descriptions of victories in Simonides and Bacchylides, see Rawles 2012 and Hadjimichael 2015 respectively.

Descriptions of Races  87

Pindar places the emphasis on the symbolic message that can be conveyed by the particular victory and its impact on the life of the victor and his family. AB 72, which celebrates Molycus’s Nemean victory in the kelēs-race, is a characteristic example of such descriptions: τοῦ πώλου θηεῖσθε τὸ λιπαρές, ὡς πνόον ἕλκει παντὶ τύπωι καὶ πᾶς ἐκ λαγόνων τέταται ὡς νεμεοδρομέων· Μολύκωι δ’ ἤνεγκε σέλινα νικήσας ἄκρωι νεύματι καὶ κεφαλῆι. Admire the effort of the horse, how it pants with all its body and its flanks are all stretched as if it is racing at the Nemean Games; to Molycus it brought the celery wreath having won by a mere dip of its head.

The persona loquens is identified with the poet. The poet addresses the onlookers, inviting them to admire the skill of the artist who fashioned the horse.45 Pindar often gives instances where the spectators at the games admire the victorious athlete, suggesting at the same time his desirability and attractiveness (cf. Olympian 9.93–94; Pythian 9.96–100).46 AB 72 functions on a radically different principle. In an artful way, Posidippus recreates part of the race by describing the monument which is supposed to commemorate the race. Gazing at the statue of the victorious horse permits the beholder a temporal and spatial dislocation to the last moment of the race at Nemea. The sculpture, the existence of which may well have been only textual, captures the final efforts of the victorious horse, and does so by calling attention to the skill of the artist. Ultimately, the skill of the sculptor

 45 Posidippus foregrounds the action of “gazing” at the statue of the victorious horse. On the whole, compare Pollitt’s 1974: 63–64 and 189–191 discussion s.v. θαυμαστός, θαῦμα. Posidippus uses θηεῖσθε, which recalls the frequent Pindaric use of θαητός (cf. Slater 1969 s.v.). See also Porter 2011: 283 on μέγα θαῦμα in AB 15. 46 Cf. also Carne-Ross 1985: 28–30 on Olympian 9 and 99–100 on Pythian 9 respectively. In Pythian 9, the gaze of the female spectators is anticipated by the admiration of Apollo (26–28) as he watches Cyrene wrestle with a lion; cf. Crotty 1982: 95. For gods admiring mortal heroes in Pindar, see also Nem. 3.50 with Ahlert’s (1942: 21–22) discussion. Add also Pyth. 10.58–60 with Groningen 1958: 347. A different kind of audience is suggested in Pythian 4, which seems closer to Nemean 3. Pyth. 4.237–241 describes the reaction of Aeëtes to Jason’s victorious completion of his athlos (236; 243). The reaction of Jason’s friends—who form a sort of chorus; cf. e.g. Ol. 9.4— is reminiscent of similar scenes such as Pyth. 9.123–124 and Ol. 10.93–96, or even Call. Hecale fr. 69 Hollis; see Braswell 1988 ad 240(b). The reaction of Aeëtes is juxtaposed with that of Pelias when he first set eyes on the stranger with the one sandal (95); see Segal 1986: 40 and Hubbard 1985: 96.

88  The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88) is equated with that of the poet describing it and so re-activates the old metaphor of the poet as “craftsman” (τέκτων). Commenting on this piece of art, Posidippus liberates the statue from its supposed base and allows the readers, who in this textual scenario also function as the spectators, to travel to the last moment of the race. Posidippus’s text thus circumvents the limitations of statuary praise and looks back to the opening lines of Pindar’s Nemean 5 (see below). In addition, Posidippus balances his poem between an ekphrasis of the monument and a narrative of the race, skillfully embedding the latter in the former.47 As a result of this technique the reader of the epigram becomes the admirer of the textual sculpture and subsequently a spectator of the race praised. Posidippus focuses on the description of a sculpture which depicts the victorious horse in realistic terms only to contextualize it within his poem (this includes the photo finish of the race and the glorious return home; cf. Callimachus fr. 384.4–6 Pf.).48 Posidippus echoes in this regard Bacchylides’s technique in his description of victories. As Theodora Hadjimichael (2015: 370–373) has shown, Bacchylides engages his audience by recreating the moment of victory. This is achieved by emphasizing the physical qualities of the victor or even the movement of Pherenicus in Ode 5. The emerging picture combines performance with race, allowing the audience to witness the original victory through the lens of the song performed.

Inherent Excellence (φυά) in Pindar and Posidippus In certain other epigrams, the central part is taken up completely by a chronicle of family victories (e.g. AB 78 or 88). This, however, happens only in the epigrams for royal laudandi. Catalogues were common in epinician odes and subsequently in epinician epigrams. But in these cases the epigrams come close to the spirit of Pindaric passages such as Olympian 2.7–47 and narrate the travels of the Ptolemaic family through the major Panhellenic Games from their ancestral home in Macedon to Alexandria. As has already been argued, such catalogues can and should be seen as part of a process of mythologizing the victories of members of the Ptolemaic dynasty so as to validate their gradual entrance into the realm of myth and poetic immortality. In this regard, this structural maneuver functions

 47 This structure has been aptly described by Del Corno 2002: 64. Cf. also Bingen 2002: 185 on AB 74. 48 Papalexandrou 2004: 251.

Inherent Excellence (φυά) in Pindar and Posidippus  89

in tandem with the promotion of the cult of the reigning monarch and of his ancestors, demonstrating that Ptolemaic poetry operates within a specific ideological system. The importance of this fictionalization of the Ptolemies can be best appreciated in comparison to the similar representation of ancestral figures such as Alexander and Ptolemy I next to Heracles in Theocritus’s Encomium of Ptolemy Philadelphus. AB 78 is the first epigram in the collection to celebrate a royal victor. The epigram is taken up in its entirety by information of a documentary type: the victor’s family, her pedigree and country of origin. Nonetheless, one cannot help but admire the sophisticated, and at the same time simple, way in which Posidippus fashioned this remarkable epigram. Staying close to Pindar’s admonition to improvise new ways (e.g. Nemean 8.19–21), Posidippus offers traditional genre motifs filtered through his epigrammatic skill. The epigram is placed in the mouth of Berenice herself. It is possible that the predilection for direct speech that one established as a salient feature of Callimachus’s epinician elegies is the result of the influence that athletic inscriptions, and perhaps even Posidippus’s literary epigrams, had on Callimachus (cf. Callimachus’s Victoria Sosibii fr. 384.35–43 Pf.). The queen or princess—the term βασιλίς is inconclusive49—addresses bards (ἀοιδοί) asking them to recount her kleos. It seems that her kleos is already well-known, since her fame is as old as that of her family. Addressing Hieron at Pythian 1.94, Pindar talks about the role that ἀοιδοί play in perpetuating the fame of men that have died: Pindar advises his patron to govern his city in a fair manner, so as to provide future poets and prose authors with a favorable subject matter. In this respect it is the ἀοιδοί who will determine Hieron’s fame and deliver it to future generations. Their role is not only qualitative in that they influence the character of Hieron’s fame but essential in that they produce and preserve it. Adhering to a well-established epinician motif Posidippus does not differentiate Berenice’s kleos from that of her family but rather employs it to reinforce the prestige of the victor. The close connection shows that the victory of a family member adds to the prestige and credit of the entire family. This is why Berenice  49 Berenice is called βασιλίς again in AB 82.6. The term may designate either a queen or a princess (Eur. Hec. 552 for Polyxene; Med. 1003 for Kreon’s daughter). LSJ9 s.v. Aβ are certainly wrong to understand it as “princess” in Eur. Hipp. 778, since there it refers to Phaedra, who, as Theseus’s consort, is the queen. For the corrupt Soph. Ant. 941, see Griffith 1999: 283 ad loc. Ptolemaic royal titelature is not clear enough to assist in the debate about Berenice’s identity. Similarly in AB 116.5, Queen Arsinoë II is called βασίλισσα, a title used in inscriptions for her sister Philōtera; see the detailed discussion of R. Pfeiffer 1922: 17–18. The title was also used for Berenice, the daughter of Euergetes; see Pfeiffer ibid. 18n2. See also Dickie 2008: 38.

90  The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88) declares her kleos to be already known to the singers. It is not that Berenice is challenging the role traditionally accorded ἀοιδοί; rather she implies that ἀοιδοί have repeatedly sung of her family’s victories and should do so again. The ἀοιδοί are asked to tell of Berenice’s fame only if they take pleasure in talking about things which are well-known (1–2). Berenice’s precocious self-proclamation comes very close to rendering almost useless the role that poets, Posidippus included, can play in the dissemination of her kleos; it is the laudanda herself who speaks about her own kleos. On the other hand, Berenice could only imply that in view of her family’s athletic excellence it should not come as a surprise to anyone that she, a female member of the royal family, could also win a victory. In this sense, her praise encapsulates the praise of her family’s inherent potential for excellence, which had already been rendered well-known through their previous victories and their celebration by other poets. It would appear, then, that Posidippus has remolded the traditional aristocratic notion of φυά in a highly provocative way, which comes close to challenging the Hellenistic taste for novelty in subject matter, so as to throw into relief the gender of the victor. Such an approach would ironically be in accordance with the Hellenistic tendency for innovation, both stylistic and thematic. It would also tally with Pindaric tradition.50 Pindar “complains” about the difficulty of devising new ways to praise the athletic successes of his patrons. Nemean 6, a possible model for Callimachus’s programmatic road-motif in the Aetia prologue (fr. 1.25–8 Harder/ Massimilla), is characteristic of Pindar’s feigned distress:51 καὶ ταῦτα μὲν παλαιότεροι | ὁδὸν ἀμαξιτὸν εὗρον· ἕπομαι δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς ἔχων μελέταν (53– 54, “older men have devised such matters as a path to be travelled with the chariot; I too follow being cautious.”). Similarly, in Nemean 8.19–21, Pindar uses a metaphor from the long jump to describe the danger of coming up with new things to say and to highlight the individuality and freshness of his odes in contrast to those of his rivals. The poet brings the Lydian stone into the picture as a criterion whereby his poetic endeavours are to be judged. The picture of the βάσανος which judges poetry is used again in Pythian 10.67 and especially in fr. 122.16 Sn.-M., where the poet talks about his own role.52 In most cases, it would be the audience (i.e. the friends and family of the victor) and its reactions which would show whether Pindar’s choice was successful or not.

 50 Angeli Bernardini 1967: 82, 87. 51 Gerber 1999 ad 53–54. 52 See Groningen 1960 ad loc.

Inherent Excellence (φυά) in Pindar and Posidippus  91

As we have already noted, it is customary in lyrical epinicians to associate the athletic prowess of the victor with his family’s inherent potential for excellence. As a rule, this leads to a short digression on the family’s record of victories (e.g. Olympian 2.49–51; 13.30–46; Nemean 4.73–90; 6.11–24). The same generic device is found at work in this epigram: Berenice’s claim that her glory is παλαιόγονος53 is substantiated with a catalogue of Ptolemaic victories, which forms the backbone of the whole composition. This epigram presents interest also for its address to the Macedonians in the last two lines (13–14, τεθρίππου δὲ τελείου ἀείδετε τὸν Βερ[ε]ν̣ί̣κ̣η̣[̣ς | τῆς βασιλευούσης, ὦ Μακέτα[ι], στέφανον: “Macedonians sing the victorious wreath of Berenice, the queen, in the chariot race!”). There is no reason why one should identify them with poets, so as to mean “poets from Macedon,” an indirect reference to Posidippus. Such an interpretation would be anticlimactic after πάντες at line one. Rather, it seems that the Macedonians form the internal (or fictional) audience of the epigram.54 In Pindar’s times the performance of the epinician ode coincided with or was contextualized within a celebration organized by the city or by the victor’s family, with the participation of members of the victor’s community. For instance, Isthmian 8 begins with Pindar’s address to the young friends of the laudandus who, in all probability, also form the chorus for the performance of the ode.55 The address to the Macedonians in the last line of the epigram serves a similar textual function and reflects the manner in which Hellenistic readers construed the performative context of Pindar’s odes. The princess asks her compatriots to join in the celebration of her athletic victory.56 The Macedonians mentioned adopt the role of the indigenous chorus participating in the performance of the poem, while Berenice leads and directs them as their chorus 53 For the temporal implications in the choice of the adjective, cf. Pind. Ol. 13.50 and 14.4, both of which give the feeling of moving far back into the past. 54 For such internal (or textual) audiences in Posidippus, see also AB 63 and 64 with Gutzwiller’s notes (2002: 45–46 and 50–51 respectively). 55 On performers of epinician odes, see Carey 2007: 206–208. 56 Pace van Bremen (2007: 372), who follows a “suspicion” of Thomson (2005: 279), there is no way to decide on the gender of the chorus-members. Μακέται can be the plural of Μακέτης or Μακέτη (cf. e.g. Adaeus AP 7.51; Callixeinus FHG 2.148). We never hear of women choruses in epinician celebrations, but this should not carry much weight with fictional Hellenistic performances. In the Victoria Berenices (fr. 54.14 Harder = 143.14 Massimilla), Callimachus mentions some “women from Colchis” whom scholars have associated with a ritual offering to Apis, forming part, in all probability, of the celebrations for Berenice’s victory; see Parsons 1977: 11 ad 31 and D’Alessio 2007: 450n5. A queen could have her victory celebrated by her male subjects. Still, if the Berenice mentioned here is a royal princess, it may have been more appropriate to have her victory celebrated by maidens.

92  The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88) leader. In this manner the poet offers a version, real or textual it is unclear,57 which envelops the epigram by providing it with a performative context. The emphasis on the nationality of the chorus-members should be viewed in connection with the political agenda of the dynasty.58 In the multiethnic environment of Hellenistic Alexandria, Posidippus is trying to recreate the archaic structures of the city state. Berenice situates the celebration of her victory in the frame of her ancestral home or amidst her kinsmen in her family’s new home, as she would have done in archaic or classical times. In this way, at the end of the epigram the laudanda establishes her ties with the native land of Macedon.

Textuality vs. Monumentality in Pindar and Posidippus AB 83 introduces a different style to the collection: up to this point most epigrams have been placed either in the mouth of the victorious horse or, in AB 78, in the mouth of Berenice herself. Only the epigram for Callicrates (AB 74) explicitly suggests in the final two lines that it was inscribed on the base of a monument (13– 14, Θεοῖσι δ’ Ἀδ[ε]λφεοῖς εἰκὼ ἐναργέα τῶν τότ’ [ἀγώνω]ν̣ | ἅρ̣[μα καὶ ἡνί]ο̣χ̣ον χάλκεον ὧδ’ ἔθετο, “the chariot and its driver thus in bronze he dedicated to the Sibling Gods, a splendid image of those past games.”). No other epigram in the Hippika gives any explicit indication of being inscribed on the base of a sculpture. AB 83 is an exception, since it makes an unmistakable reference to its monumental character (2, νικῶν ἄγ[κειτ]α̣ι μνῆμ’ ἱερὸν Σκοπάδαις). ἄγκειμαι appears again in the first epigram of the Αnathematika (AB 36.2) and in the epigram for the statue of Philitas (AB 63.10). Furthermore, μνῆμα, the noun Posidippus uses for the monument, appears repeatedly in agonistic inscriptions for epinician monuments.59 Both terms are also used by Pindar in his epinician odes (see below). This does not mean that Posidippus borrows these motifs from Pindar. On the contrary, it is more likely that Posidippus uses epigraphic formulae independently of Pindar. Nonetheless, these similarities in the employment of traditional inscriptional motifs in both poets clearly demonstrate that the interaction between epinician lyric and epinician (i.e. inscriptional) epigrams, which we have noted in

 57 On the thorny issue of the performance of Hellenistic epigrams see Bing’s 2000: 146–148 salutary remarks. Cf. also van Bremen 2007: 350–352. 58 Dickie 2008: 34. 59 See Ebert’s index s.v.

μνῆμα  93

Posidippus’s Hippika, can already be found in Pindar’s odes.60 At the same time, this point of contact permits us to throw into relief in an explicit way the differences between the epinician discourses of Pindar and Posidippus. Pindar employs metaphors from agonistic epigrams and monuments to talk about his own role in the dissemination of the kleos of the victor and his family. On the other hand, in his epigrams Posidippus describes agonistic monuments on which his Hippika were supposedly inscribed. Still, these monuments were possibly nothing more than fictional or textual creations that were meant to contextualize Posidippus’s work in the tradition of agonistic epigrams. In principle both Pindar and Posidippus construct textual monuments on which they inscribe their poetry or part of it. Yet they do so for different purposes. Pindar wants to underline the superiority of his art in comparison with other forms of praise,61 while Posidippus wishes to suggest a context for the reading of his epigrams. The ensuing discussion will examine the different ways in which this interpretation applies to the epinician poems of Pindar and Posidippus.

μνῆμα In Olympian 3, the wreath of leaves from the wild olive-trees that Heracles brought to Olympia is called “the fairest reminder of the Olympic Games” (15, μνᾶμα τῶν Οὐλυμπίαι κάλλιστον ἀέθλων). In Isthmian 8, the same term is applied to the “chariot of the Muses,” a metaphor for the epinician ode, which will sing the kleos of the deceased boxer Nikokles (61–62, ἔσσυταί τε Μοισαῖον ἅρμα Νικοκλέος | μνᾶμα πυγμάχου κελαδῆσαι, “the chariot of the Muses rushes to celebrate in song the memorial of Nikokles the boxer.”).62 In both cases, the olivewreath and the epinician ode constitute μνήματα (“memorials”) that will tell in times to come of the athletic prowess of the victor. Along similar lines, in AB 83 the statue and the epigram on it constitute the literal and figurative monument for the whole clan of the Skopads: literal in the sense of a material object like an actual statue, a wreath, or a copy of an ode, and figurative in the sense of the kleos offered by poetry. However, a closer examination indicates that the monument in AB 83 could well be nothing more than a textual construction: in this

 60 Day 2013; Nobili 2016; Spelman 2018: 110–119. None of the terms I use in my discussion (ἀνάκειμαι, ἀνατίθεμαι, μνῆμα) appear in Bacchylides’s epinicians. This would suggest that the use of sculptural motifs in epinician odes was peculiar to Pindar. 61 Fearn 2013: 242–244. 62 Loscalzo 2003: 137.

94  The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88) sense the supposed literal monumentality of the statue is translated into the actual monumentality of the papyrus roll carrying the epigram.

ἄγκειμαι ~ ἀναθέμεν Another characteristic case of contact between the two poets is the use of ἀνάκειμαι (“to be dedicated”). Pindar uses it in relation to his epinician poetry or his laudandus’s victory three times. This Pindaric use is based on an epigraphic formula found in agonistic inscriptions. The formula comprises the verb ἀνάκειμαι and the noun μνῆμα as its grammatical subject.63 Pindar, however, varies the junctura. In Olympian 11.7–8, epinician praise (i.e. the epinician ode) is seen as a verbal dedication, a poetic offering, erected by the poet on behalf of the victor: ἀφθόνητος δ’ αἶνος Ὀλυμπιονίκαις | οὗτος ἄγκειται: “this praise is set up without any resentment for all Olympic victors.”64 In its other attestations, it is the victory of the athlete itself which functions as the subject of the verb: ἀρετὰ παγκρατίου in Isthmian 5.1865 and αἴγλα ποδῶν in Olympian 13.36.66 In both cases, the excellence of the victorious athlete in wrestling or in running has been fixed in time, as if it were a votive offering, an inscription or possibly a statue, thanks to the kleos and memory imparted by the epinician ode.67 The same or similar associations are evoked by the use of ἀνατίθημι in Pythian 8.29–32. The poet wishes to avoid the enumeration of all the glorious deeds of the Aeginitans, since doing so may cause κόρος, harm the balance of his poem

 63 Cf. 6.2; 24.2 Ebert with Ebert 1972 ad loc. 64 The reading here is vouchsafed by the scholia ad loc. against the manuscripts, which read ἔγκειται; cf. Gildersleeve 1908 and Farnell 1932 ad loc. 65 ἄγκειται here is an improvement by Maas on the basis of the scholia; cf. Privitera’s (1982) detailed comment ad loc. The MSS reading κεῖται (tr. “abides” Nisetich) has been accepted by some modern editors (e.g. Bowra) but explained in various ways. For instance, Farnell (1932) connects it with the record of victories kept in Isthmus, while Thummer (1969), following Mezger’s analysis (see ap. Bury 1892 ad loc.), notes that the victory remains in the place where it was won, awaiting the poet to disperse it throughout the world. Finally, Bury (1892), though quoting Mezger with approval, rightly sees this as a figurative use and asserts that “the expression suggests the dedication of a statue of the victor.” 66 One should also compare AP 6.135 [= 6 Ebert = FGE ‘Anacreon’ vi, second half of 6th ce.]. The phrasing of the second line (ἄγκειται Κρονίδᾳ μνᾶμα ποδῶν ἀρετᾶς) looks close to Olympian 13: Pindar seems to have replaced the epigrammatic formula μνῆμα with a more favorite word of his, αἴγλα. This also seems to have been the model for Posidippus’s epigram; see, however, Dickie 2008: 20–21 who expresses doubts about this connection. 67 Lehnus 1981 ad Ol. 13.16 and Privitera 1982 ad Isthm. 5.18.

ἄγκειμαι ~ ἀναθέμεν  95

(μακραγορία), and so test the patience of his audience (cf. Pythian 1.81–84; Nemean 10.19–20). As Pfeijffer notes, such an account would have given the impression of a tiresome and rather tedious inscription, a comparison suggested by the use of ἀναθέμεν.68 Still, the poet insinuates that only a large inscription or perhaps a prestigious ex voto with an inscription69 could do justice to their heroic past, but he cannot set up such a ἀνάθημα with only his lyre and the soft voices of the chorus members. In Nemean 4.80–81, the praise of the laudandus’s deceased maternal uncle, a standard motif of epinician strategy (praise of the family’s athletic prowess), is incorporated into the ode through the image of the funerary stele (cf. Σ ad Nem. 4.129b). The poet grants Kallikles poetic immortality by “erecting” a poetic funerary stele in his memory (cf. Σ ad 129c ἀλληγορικῶς τὸ ποίημα στήλην λέγει, “he calls the poem figuratively a stele”), which surpasses the fragility of marble.70 Similarly, in Nemean 8.46–48, Pindar declares his inability to restore to life the dead father of the victor (cf. Σ ad 79b). Still, he tries to make up for this (cf. Pythian 3.63–67). He will set up a poetic funerary stele which will praise the laudandus’s family and city. Once again, stele refers to a part of the ode which is being performed.71 The immortality that Pindar’s musical (funerary) stele confers upon Megas is superior to the transient immortality that a fragile stele could provide.72 The ambiguity in the character of the offering notwithstanding,73 Pindar’s use is analogous to that of Posidippus who sees both monument and epigrams as a  68 Pfeijffer 1999 ad Pyth. 8.29. Gildersleeve (1908) compares Ol. [5].7, on which see Lehnus 1981: 82. 69 Gildersleeve 1908 ad loc. “The poet is thinking of the inscription of the votive offerings (Ol. 3.30).” 70 My analysis disagrees with the reading of Pfeijffer 1999: 62 who argues that “while Pindar emphasizes the permanence of his odes elsewhere by comparing them to monuments (Nem. 4.81, Nem. 8.46–8), the opening lines of this ode [sc. Nemean 5] emphasize the advantages of song over actual monuments.” I can find no suggestion of permanence of the material object in any of the above passages. The fragility of monuments is rightly pointed out by Jebb 1882: 177, Péron 1974: 153, Steiner 1986: 132, and Ford 2002: 105–109. 71 For the meaning of λίθος in this context see Mezger 1880: 333 ad Nem. 8. 47 and Σ Nem. 8.79a and 79b. Contra Bury (1890) who associates it with the secret pebbles at line 26 and Henry (2005) ad loc. who explains it as the setting up of a statue. Neither suggestion seems to square well with the context, which clearly has funerary connotations. See rightly Steiner 1986: 64. 72 Loscalzo 2003: 136–137. This is not the sentiment that one comes across in funerary columns of the archaic era; see, for instance, IG XII,9 285.10–15 from Eretria (6th cent.) with the discussion of Karouzos (1982: 51–54), who traces the motif back to Homer Il. 17.432–37; Steiner 2001: 252– 259; Ford 2002: 99–100. 73 See especially Schroeder (1922 ad Pyth. 8.29), who lists several possibilities. There are, however, cases in which the votive to which Pindar compares or juxtaposes his ode is explicit (see also the discussion below): i) stele Nem. 4.80–81 and 8.46–48; ii) ἀνδριάς Nem. 5.1–3 and Isthm.

96  The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88) μνῆμα. This is the point where the similarities between the two poets stop. Pindar creates a fictional monument within his poem on which some parts of the ode are thought to be inscribed, but he never says that his ode is a material offering; rather he presents it in such a way. The reason is simple. Material offerings stay at the place of the dedication. Pindar’s odes are poetic offerings and as such they can travel widely thanks to their reperformance through time and space, carrying with them the fame of the victor.74 Pindar used writing for the composition of his odes, but he follows archaic tradition in downplaying its importance as means of conservation for his poetry. Instead, he places the emphasis on its mobility though time and space.75 Pindar also points out persistently the divine origins of his poetry, which defies human conditions and can travel even to the realm of the dead (cf. Ol. 14.20–24). In Pyth. 3.114–115, Pindar asserts that ἀρετή can last only thanks to “songs of kleos,” not writing.76 Nemean 5 is illustrative in this respect. The ode opens with an elaborate comparison between composing epinician poetry and erecting statues in honour of the victorious athlete: Οὐκ ἀνδριαντοποιός εἰμ’, ὥστ’ ἐλινύσοντα ἐργάζεσθαι ἀγάλματ’ ἐπ’ αὐτᾶς βαθμίδος ἑσταότ’· ἀλλ’ ἐπὶ πάσας ὁλκάδος ἔν τ’ ἀκάτῳ, γλυκεῖ’ ἀοιδά, στεῖχ’ ἀπ’ Αἰγίνας διαγγέλλοισ’ …

(1) (2)

I am not a sculptor so that I make statues standing still on the same base. Sweet song, on every merchant ship and small boat go forward from Aegina to announce …

 2.45. On Nem. 3.10–14 and 8.13–16 (ἄγαλμα), which have often been identified as statues, see e.g. Bury 1890 ad loc., Steiner 1993: 161–167, and Hubbard 2004: 75–76. 74 Athanassaki 2009: 154–56 on Nem. 5.1–3. 75 Segal 1986: 9–12, 156–159, 191–193; Ford 2002: 119–123. 76 Cf. also Nem. 4.6–7 and Ol. 4.8–10 with Farnell 1932 ad loc. Ol. 10.1–3 is a metaphor from book-keeping; cf. Norwood 1945: 111–114, 1956: 110–112; Kromer 1976: 412–413), and it does not necessarily allude to the ode’s textuality, as Hubbard (2004: 91; 1985: 66–70) and Segal (1986: 159n13) suggest; cf. rightly Verdenius 1988 ad Ol. 10.3. There is nothing in these passages to suggest that Pindar placed the emphasis on written circulation or that he believed this to allow for poetic immortality, as Hubbard 2004: 89–91 believes. Ol. 6.87–91 could reflect the real circumstances for the performance of some odes. Pindar used writing but presented himself as an oral poet. See Ford 2002: 118–119; Budelmann 2018; Spelman 2018: 40—note also the distinction that Spelman 2018: 77 introduces between music and word.

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Both Pindar and sculptors are τέκτονες (cf. Pythian 3.113, Nemean 3.4) who compose ἀγάλματα, a generic term which can describe a statue, a monument or even a victory ode as “any concrete representation of glory or honour.”77 As Pfeijffer notes ad loc., “[t]he noun is susceptible to both the rejected and the preferred type of immortalization of the victor, the focus is on the qualifications.” These similarities notwithstanding, Pindar places the emphasis on the differences that characterize the product of his art and that of a sculptor: statues are motionless, and so prevent the effective dissemination of the athletes’ kleos; they are also quiet, resting.78 Pindar repeats the same idea almost a decade later at Isthmian 2.45,79 the only other passage in his epinicians where epinician odes and statues are explicitly juxtaposed.80 Differently from Pindar, and the rest of the archaic epinician poets, Posidippus does not voice similar aspirations. His epinician poetry lacks the mobility which we witnessed in Pindar’s odes and is always presented tied, as it were, to the sculptures which he conjures up as a background for his epigrams. In this respect, one cannot find in his epigrams the archaic, and especially Pindaric, idea of the immortality of the victor’s kleos.81 Nonetheless, as we have already seen in the case of AB 72, the reality of reading Posidippus’s Hippika divorced from their sculptural background proves the point of Pindar’s utterances. Whether Posidippus intended this as part of his erudite engagement with Pindaric metapoetic agenda or not depends on whether or not we accept as real the statues Posidippus  77 See the detailed note of Wilamowitz 1909 ad Eur. HF 49, Kurke 1991: 104–105, 190–191, Pfeijffer 1999 ad Nem. 5.1–2 and his discussion of Nem. 3.12–13 on pages 617–618, Ford 2002: 117– 118. The use of ἄγαλμα for epinician odes finds several parallels in Bacchylides (cf. Harriott 1969: 55): 1.184; 5.4; 10.11; fr. 20.5 B Sn.-M.; see also Jebb 1905 ad 1.184. 78 Athanassaki 2009: 320–327; Spelman 2018: 116–117. Steiner (2001: 259–265) emphasizes the cooperative relationship between artifact and poetry. Fearn 2017: 16–63 critiques the traditional claims about Pindar’s superiority over statues. Instead, he argues that Pindar conveys a more ambiguous message, which suggests points of contact between poetry and sculpture. 79 Noted already by Σ ad Isthm. 2.66. Cf. also Thummer 1969, Privitera 1982, and Verdenius 1988 ad loc., Kurke 1991: 250–251, Cole 1992: 61, and Athanassaki 2009: 153–154. 80 Pace Steiner 1993: 166–167 and 2001: 261, Nem. 2.3–5 and Pyth. 7.1–3 do not describe the laying of the foundation for a statue but rather the beginning of the construction of a building, as at Nem. 1.8, Ol. 6.1–3, and Pyth. 6.5–18; on the image see Hutchinson 2001 ad Ol. 6.1 and Giannini 1995 ad Pyth. 6.7–8. For the architectural image in Pyth. 7.3–7 see Gildersleeve 1908, Schroeder 1922, Farnell 1932 ad loc., Groningen 1958: 328, Angeli Bernardini 1995a ad loc., and Athanassaki 2009: 277 and 322. Cf. also for the use of κρηπίς in Pyth. 4.138 with Braswell 1988 ad loc., who adds frr. 77.1–2 and 194.1 Sn.-M.. For Nem. 2.3–5 see Bury’s 1890 note ad Nem. 1.8. Callimachus seems to have had this text in mind in his elegy for Arsinoë II’s marriage (fr. 392 Pf.); cf. D’Alessio 2007: vol. 2, 695n36 and Lelli 2004: 118. 81 Dickie 2008: 24.

98  The Reception of Pindar in Posidippus’s Hippika (AB 71–88) presupposes. Whatever the real circumstances of their composition may have been, the Hippika, or at least a number of them, suggest themselves to the reader as inscriptions on agonistic sculptures. This is the scenario we need to follow in their interpretation. In the case of epigrams inscribed on stone, it is the transition from stone to papyrus collections which enables not only the preservation but also the wider circulation of their text. Whatever Simonides (fr. 262 Poltera)82 and Pindar may have thought about their own compositions, it was their collection in editions that guaranteed their existence for a longer time.83 For inscribed epigrams, this transition opened new vistas in their dissemination and preservation, because written circulation had the advantage of liberating the poetic message from its monumental base, preserving it along with other epigrams in collections and allowing it to reach greater audiences (cf. the Sylloge Simonidea).

Conclusion It is important to note that Posidippus’s agonistic epigrams are more concerned with the description of the monuments on which the Hippika are supposed to be inscribed than most epigrams inscribed on agonistic monuments. One might suppose that, if these epigrams were indeed inscribed on monuments, Posidippus would not need to spend so much effort on their detailed description, as the reader could see the statue on which the epigrams were inscribed. This is a possible indication of their fictional character. Nonetheless, the descriptive language Posidippus uses could direct attention to those aspects of the existing monument, which would also be operative when the epigram was read independently of the monument in a poetic collection. In other words, Posidippus could compose his  82 See Karouzos 1982: 54–56, Ford 2002: 105–109, and Poltera 2008 ad fr. 262; all three scholars assume that Simonides, like Pindar, wanted to stress the duration of kleos provided by poetry as opposed to the praise conferred by monuments. For the association of Nemean 5 with Simonides, see Loscalzo 2003: 150–151. 83 “Simonides’s Tomb” in Call. Aetia III (fr. 64 Harder =163 Massimilla) remains a characteristic case: the epigram on Simonides’s stele is preserved, even after the destruction of his tomb, thanks to its “inclusion” in Callimachus’s work, which is preserved on another material, papyrus; see Acosta-Hughes 2010: 177–178. As is the case also with the embedded hymn to Poseidon and the inscription on Sosibius’s ex voto in the Victoria Sosibii, Callimachus tends to attribute this capacity to his work to preserve other compositions, be they extemporaneous compositions or inscribed epigrams. This could suggest belief in the longevity of his oeuvre. Despite the arrogance inherent in this belief, it cannot be denied that Callimachus’s certainty was based on the mechanics of his philological activity and the assurance that the scholarly activity going on in the Museum would have given him about the likelihood of the physical preservation of his poems.

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epigrams with an eye that they operate in various reading contexts, taking into consideration their eventual transition to poetry books from the momument upon which they were originally inscribed. In this reading, the textual indices (i.e. demonstrative pronouns, descriptions of monuments etc.) that these epigrams contain enable the reader to recreate mentally the “missing,” or “lost,” monument on the basis of the detached and autonomous epigram.84 So, differently from most anonymous epigrammatists, Posidippus shows himself aware of the transition from stone to papyrus (cf. especially AB 122.5–6). The Hippika, like most epigrams in the Milan collection (with the possible exception of the Oiōnoskopika), operate on the basis of their monumentality.85 They take advantage of their textuality in a way that archaic epigrams could not, because the archaic poets meant their epigrams to be inscribed and not collected in poetry books. They believed that the monument could stand the passage of time. Posidippus does not have to adhere to this, because he is composing his epigrams while also allowing for written circulation from the beginning. In this sense, the employment of inscriptional motifs is ambiguous. In contrast to Pindar, though, he employs inscriptional motifs to place his composition in the frame of a certain poetic tradition.

 84 Porter 2011: 273. 85 Porter 2011: 272.

Chapter 3 Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica: Heroic Foils and the Poetics of Immortality Introduction The numerous versions of the Argonautic expedition to which Apollonius had access, and which are lost to us almost in their entirety, cast doubt on any approach that favors the Pindaric intertext over any other possible subtext.1 Unfortunately, the state of the available material offers no other alternative, and any discussion of Apollonius’s debt to his predecessors needs to make allowances for the hypotheses involved in it.2 We can be certain of Pindar’s influence on Apollonius in one major area—that is, Apollonius’s decision to include epinician material in his epic. Only Pindar had any compelling reason to fashion an image of Jason as a “foil” to a successful athlete.3 The evidence of the Homeric epics suggests that epic heroes did not appear as athletes on a regular basis. Athletic discourse may appear in Iliad 23 or in Odyssey 8 and 19,4 but in none of these cases does the representation of Odysseus or of other epic heroes come remotely close to Pindar’s description of Jason. Apart from this, Apollonius includes at crucial points in the narrative textual signposts that convey beyond any reasonable doubt that he expects the reader to pick up the epinician implications of his epic. Epinician imagery concerns not only Jason but other characters as well, particularly Heracles and the Dioscuri. Most readers of Apollonius have taken an issue with the way in which Apollonius constantly pits Jason against Zeus’s sons.

 1 Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, xxvi–xxxix offers a concise discussion of the Argonautic myth prior to Apollonius. See also Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 2, 228–248; Huxley 1969: 60–61 (Eumelus), 68–72 (Naupaktia); Beye 1982: 40–53; Dräger 2001: 7–30; M.L. West 2005: 26–27 (Eumelus); Tsagalis 2017 passim. For Antimachus’s account, see Wyss 1936: xix–xx. 2 Pindaric influence on Apollonius is discussed by Hunter 1989 and 2015 passim, 1993; Albis 1996: 63–65, 89–92; Köhnken 2000, 2005; Davies 2002; Stephens 2003: 178–182, 2018b: 115–140; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 280–284, 308–310. 3 “Foil” is used in this context in the manner of Bundy to describe mythological examples contrasted or juxtaposed with the victor praised by the epinician poet. See also Lawall 1966: 123–124 and passim. 4 For athletic discourse in the Odyssey, see Dickie 1984 on Od. 8 and Steiner’s 2010 comments on Od. 19. For the so-called “Brautagonen” that underlie Od. 22, see Scanlon 2002: 225–226. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-004

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Accordingly, they attribute irony to Apollonius’s depiction of Jason.5 The constant mention of Heracles and the Dioscuri supposedly undermines Jason’s position as leader of the expedition. However, such a reading ignores important elements in the structure of Apollonius’s epic. Each one of these heroes, that is, follows a different narrative thread. The Argonautic expedition serves as the device through which Apollonius combines them in the frame of the same poem. Pindar employs a similar technique in his combination of the stories of Euphemus, Jason, and Arcesilaus in Pythian 4. This realization can help us to better understand Apollonius’s technique. In addition, similar to Pindar’s setting up various and ever changing analogies between Euphemus, Jason and Arcesilaus, Apollonius suggests points of contact or dissimilarity among Heracles, the Dioscuri, and Jason. Epinician discourse is crucial to the success of this technique. The epinician credentials of Heracles and the Dioscuri are a first indication of Pindar’s influence on the Argonautica. At the end of the narrative lines of Heracles and the Dioscuri stands the prospect of their receiving heroic honors.6 Bruno Currie (2005) has discussed the prospect of heroization for Pindar’s victors. A common attribute the odes Currie discusses have in common is their insistent use of terms of light and darkness7 as well as of myths about Heracles.8 Heracles is envisioned as travelling to far-off places, intimating by virtue of his analogy to the victor the similar prospect the victor can hope to attain. But this is only one aspect of epinician discourse with regard to Heracles and the Dioscuri. These heroes also have connections to the Ptolemaic dynasty.9 In this respect, they share elements with epinician elegies celebrating Ptolemaic victories: the defeat of agents of chaos is one such symbolic item and can go a long way to explain the Typhon-like quality of the opponents of Heracles, the Dioscuri, and Jason. Divine honors are explicitly accorded to Heracles and the Dioscuri on account of their victories reflecting in this regard another trope of Ptolemaic epinician poetry. Apollonius acknowledges this discourse and through it reaches back to Pindar as Callimachus also does. Against this background, the attainment of heroic and / or divine honors specifically for Heracles and the Dioscuri becomes significant. Jason has no such aspirations; his destiny is to follow but not surpass the sons of

 5 Beye 1982; DeForest 1994: 49–50. 6 For Heracles’s apotheosis in Hellenistic literature, see Effe 2003, particularly 33–34 for Apollonius. Hitch 2012 examines the presence of hero cult in Apollonius’s epic. 7 Currie 2005: 360–363; cf. also Duchemin 1955: 193–228; Finley 1966: 144–146. 8 Currie 2005: 133–136. 9 Dioscuri: Acosta-Hughes 2012; Heracles: Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012: 168–170.

102  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica Zeus.10 Seeing this as a slight to Jason is not a particularly rewarding stance to take. It makes more sense, in my view, to juxtapose Jason with Heracles and the Dioscuri and see Apollonius’s treatment of his fate in terms comparable to epinician, and particularly Pindaric, mythology. Apollonius’s appreciation of Pindar’s technique and poetic idiom transpires in the structural framework Apollonius inherits from Homer. If Pindar includes epic elements in Pythian 4,11 Apollonius reverses the procedure investing his epic discourse with epinician themes, motifs, and symbols. Here lies the strongest indication in favor of Apollonius’s intertextual interaction with Pindar’s poetry. Pindar associates his name with developing a praise discourse that Hellenistic poets took as representative of the genre. Pindar’s treatment of mythological heroes influences their representations in later poetry and permeates the praise of Ptolemaic rulers as Apollonius’s epic also testifies. The manner in which Pindar shapes his version of the Argonautic expedition reflects the generic exigencies of victory poetry and the political circumstances of Pindar’s commission. In both these regards, Pindar’s version stands out from others. To be more specific, the epinician elements in the representation of Jason, the issue of his diplomacy, even the juxtaposition of Jason with other heroes such as Heracles and the Dioscuri are defining elements of Pindar’s treatment of the myth that support the intertextual connection with Apollonius’s epic, on which the following discussion focuses. This thesis does not disregard the obvious differences between the two poets in the inclusion or exclusion of specific episodes,

 10 Lawall 1966: 153. In this regard I disagree with Hitch’s (2012) overall interpretation that the Argonautica maps a “process of heroization” that includes all Argonauts indiscriminately. With the obvious exception of Heracles and the Dioscuri, as well as of those personages (Cyzicus, Sthenelus) or Argonauts who die and explicitly receive honors but at a much later time (Tiphys, Idmon, Polyphemus), there is no such indication about Jason. The cult of Athena Iēsoniē (1.959– 960) acknowledges the goddess’s support of the expedition. Similarly, Jason’s completion of the athlos and his superhuman power and heroic beauty are transient manifestations of divine or magical support (Hera; Athena; Medea); cf. Kampakoglou 2018. I fear that Hitch’s application of Finkelberg’s (1995) model is too rigid and fails to take cognizance of Finkelberg’s concluding remarks (11). To paraphrase Finkelberg, Apollonius is familiar with the phenomenon of herocult, but this does not mean that he applies it to all characters alike. Completion of an athlos does not inadvertently lead to immortalization. It can, but this has to be acknowledged in the text. The concluding address of the narrator to the Argonauts as γένος μακάρων registers their largerthan-life status, their connection with gods, and the cult honors that they have received in the time after the expedition. Still, this is an ambiguous afterthought that does not influence the presentation of Jason. There is no explicit, unequivocal reference that Jason seriously lays claim to or expects heroic honors. 11 Maslov 2016: 80 with n. 136.

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their development, as well as the differences in the treatment of moral concepts and, more importantly, of the gods. The following discussion will focus on the epinician elements in Apollonius as evidence for the development of the genre in Hellenistic times and provide points of contact between Apollonius’s epic and Pindar’s victory odes.

The Argonautic Expedition as a Metaphor for Athletic Victory Apollonius includes epinician elements representing Jason as a victor in the Pindaric fashion or setting up foils to him through the use of heroes who bear epinician traits (e.g. Heracles; Dioscuri).12 Epinician imagery permeates Apollonius’s epic and forms the background against which Jason operates as an epic hero. In addition, Apollonius’s treatment of this epinician imagery and its inclusion in his epic agrees in both its overall theme and details with Callimachus’s treatment of the epinician genre. Apollonius probably partakes in the same court culture that fostered the revival of epinician discourse. In this regard, alongside Callimachus and Posidippus, Apollonius offers important evidence about the reception and revival of victory poetry in Hellenistic times. The political messages that such scenes in Apollonius’s epic give rise to (e.g. apotheosis, hero cult) mirror the explicitly political character that Pindar himself imposes on the Argonautic myth: Pindar is interested in the myth of the Argonauts inasmuch as it allows him to interfere in the feud between Arcesilaus and Damophilus.13 His representation of Damophilus as the ideal courtier14 foreshadows in many details Callimachus’s praise of Sosibius (fr. 384.53–60 Pf.). It also raises the possibility of political resonances in the description of royal courts in Apollonius’s epic.15 Pindar’s decision to include the Argonautic expedition in a victory song is a daring move that means seeing the whole story as a metaphor for athletic victory. Arcesilaus’s Pythian victory parallels and recalls Jason’s success with several minor points supporting the analogy between the respective leaderships of Arcesilaus and Jason. Apollonius follows Pindar’s decision. Apollonius’s depiction of Jason’s successful performance of the task set to him by Aeëtes is fashioned in  12 For Jason as an athlete, see particularly Visa-Ondarçuhu 2015. For the epinician credentials of Heracles and of the Dioscuri, see Maslov 2015: 278–279. 13 Fennell 1893: 185, 208 on lines 268–269; Christ 1896: 159 on line 146; Gildersleeve 1908: 281; Schroeder 1922: 42 on lines 145ff.; Chamoux 1953: 151; Burton 1962: 167–168; Segal 1986: 137. 14 Schroeder 1922: 47 “Die Characteristik des Damophilos umreißt kurz das ganze Mannesideal des Dichters.” 15 Stephens 2008; Mori 2008.

104  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica clear epinician terms, concluding a chain of similar scenes that span the first three books of the epic. As a consequence of this, Jason’s victory is juxtaposed with those of Heracles and Polydeuces in typical Pindaric fashion. Nonetheless, there is an obvious difference between seeing one moment in the general story from an epinician point of view, as Apollonius does, and casting the whole narrative in epinician terms, as Pindar does. After all, Pindar’s narrative focuses exclusively on Jason to the exclusion of any other hero. In this regard, Pindar’s narrative comes closer to the epic style Aristotle castigates in the Poetics (1451a8). Like the epic Heracleids and Theseids Aristotle criticizes, the unity of Pindar’s narrative is achieved by focusing on the events that happened during Jason’s life. No further structuring principle can be detected. Although Apollonius does not opt for a different principle of organizing his material, his narrative is more polyphonic because it follows the examples he found in both the Iliad and the Odyssey.16 The space dedicated to heroes beyond Jason does not undermine the heroic credentials of Jason qua epic protagonist in a quasi-post-structural fashion as is usually assumed in secondary literature. Without a doubt, there is an undeniable tension between the heroic claims of Heracles, Polydeuces, and Jason. But, as I would suggest, this can adequately be accounted for if seen through a Pindaric lens. Furthermore, Apollonius offers clearly a scale of heroic excellence leading from Heracles to Polydeuces and then to Jason. This view of things would not be objectionable to any Greek poet, and particularly not to Pindar. The only possible objection is that Pindar would not choose such an approach. But Apollonius does, and his model lies, as usual, in Homeric practice.17 For instance, the Iliad includes various aristeiai, but only during the absence of Achilles. These include Diomedes, a kind of lesser Achilles, Odysseus, Agamemnon, and Patroclus, a surrogate figure for Achilles. Unavoidably, all these are seen as preparatory to the major, demonic even,18 aristeia of Achilles, whose shadow falls heavy upon all heroes. Greek heroes are allowed their spot in the limelight only during the absence of Achilles, and this is certainly true of Apollonius’s epic too. On the one hand, the victories of Heracles over the Giants in book 1 and of Polydeuces over Amycus in book 2 prepare and set the foundation for

 16 Aristotle (Poetics 1459a23) talks of poikilia (“variety”). For the plural or polyphonic character of Apollonius’s epic, see Belloni’s (1995: 137–141) comments. 17 For the possible influence of “cyclic” epics in this aspect, see Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004: 95– 96. 18 Schein 1984: 31, 128–129.

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Jason’s victory in book 3.19 Still, as with Achilles in the Iliad, it is only in the absence of Heracles that Polydeuces and Jason can shine, and even then both the narrator and characters make sure to remind us of the missing son of Zeus.20 With regard to Polydeuces’s aristeia in book 2, this scene prepares for the divine honors he receives later. Here lies the reason of his prominence: Ptolemaic considerations make his inclusion a sine qua non for the success of the epic. In the Odyssey, Telemachus’s attainment of kleos happens during the absence of his father both from Ithaca and from the narrative. For the first four books of the Odyssey, Odysseus, albeit physically absent, is on everyone’s lips. Nonetheless, Telemachus’s journeys look forward to those of his father. Eventually, both narrative lines join as father and son meet on Ithaca. The Odyssey is also pertinent for an understanding of the way in which Apollonius incorporates epinician discourse in his epic. Athletic imagery appears quite prominently in the Odyssey, perhaps more so than in the Iliad. Odysseus distinguishes himself in the athletic competition in Phaeacia in book 8; also in Ithaca in the boxing match with Irus, which offers the model for the duel of Polydeuces with Amycus.21 Epinician discourse reaches its climax with the bowing competition preparatory to the killing of the suitors. Apollonius follows a similar technique. The only difference is that instead of applying this repetitive epinician discourse to a single character (i.e. Jason), as the poet of the Odyssey does, he applies it to three, Heracles, Polydeuces, and Jason. This tripartite split gives Apollonius the opportunity to fragment the narrative continuum and include further material in his narrative allowing for a more plural and open text. In addition to the parallels offered by both the Iliad and the Odyssey, one cannot ignore the influence that Pythian 4 has on the way in which Apollonius develops his polyphonic discourse. Apollonius’s decision to entertain other heroic characters apart from Jason finds an interesting parallel in Pindar’s innovative treatment of his laudandus. Pythian 4 is addressed to the King of Cyrene, Arcesilaus. The song does not spend any time describing the actual victory of Arcesilaus’s chariot. Such a description can be found in Pythian 4’s sister poem, Pythian 5. Pythian 4, by contrast, focuses on Arcesilaus’s excellence as a potent reminder of domineering heroic figures such as the Argonaut Euphemus and the  19 Lawall 1966: 134–136 and passim. 20 This interpretation would suggest that Heracles, not Jason, is the real protagonist of Apollonius’s epic. Indeed the analogy with the importance of Achilles would sustain this. However, this expectation is undercut by the narrator who purposefully misdirects the reader. For the poetics of uncertainty, see Byre 2002. In addition, in his last mention in the epic Heracles is beyond human comparison. He has already attained divinity. 21 Knight 1995: 62–69.

106  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica first Cyrenean king, Battus. In lines 278–279, Pindar represents himself as an ἄγγελος, a messenger, to Arcesilaus. The image combines epinician preoccupations with the political realities of fifth-century Cyrene. The celebration of Arcesilaus’s Pythian victory is combined with a plea on behalf of Damophilus, a Cyrenean exile, to be allowed to return to Cyrene. In particular, δέχομαι is the keyword which runs through all three sections of the ode.22 In Medea’s prophecy, Euphemus receives two gifts, the oracular bird sent by Zeus and the clod of earth handed to him by Triton (19–23, … ὄρνις … | … τόν ποτε … | … Εὔφαμος δέξατ᾽; 37, … δέξατο βώλακα δαιμονίαν). Intriguingly, the same verb signposts the beginning of the mythological narrative: τίς γὰρ ἀρχὰ δέξατο ναυτιλίας;. The selection of this verb is not coincidental. Kevin Crotty has associated the act of receiving, conveyed through this verb and its cognates, with the function of epinician poetry.23 The epinician poet negotiates the societal tensions that follow the return of the successful athlete to his hometown and effects his smooth reintegration into the community, by allowing part of the victor’s prestige to shine on his city as well. Pythian 4, however, does not negotiate the return of the victor himself, but of the person who commissioned the ode. In fact the very last part of the ode is devoted to an unabashed praise of Damophilus’s qualities as a courtier.24 By allowing Damophilus to return to Cyrene, Arcesilaus will act like the most timely doctor (270, ἰατὴρ ἐπικαιρότατος): Arcesilaus will heal the sorrows afflicting his kingdom and thus prove himself an effective leader in the guise of Jason.25 Structuring Pythian 4 in the form of a narrative triptych26 allows Pindar to invest his poem with a polyphonic approach that foreshadows that of Apollonius. The first part (1–69) concerns the foundation of Cyrene and the connection of this event with the Argonautic expedition. This part is articulated through the prophecy of Medea. The central part of the ode (70–263) narrates the actual expedition from the moment of Jason’s return from his exile until the stealing of the golden fleece; it concludes with the sojourn of the Argonauts on Lemnos. The third part (263–299) returns to the connection of the Argonautic myth with Cyrene and includes a series of admonitions addressed to Arcesilaus, regarding primarily his  22 Segal 1986: 42–44. 23 For the reception of the victorious athlete by his city (signposted through the use of δέχομαι), see Crotty 1982: 108–109. For the nostos of the victorious athlete and his reintegration into his community, see ibid. 104–38. 24 Such maneuvers are also seen in the Nemean odes Pindar composed for Chromius: there the praise of Chromius reflects on Hieron as a ruler. Unlike Chromius, though, Damophilus is not the victor. 25 Finley 1966: 85–86. 26 Chamoux 1953: 190–191.

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behavior towards Damophilus. Pindar punctuates the tripartite structure of the ode by the inclusion of a secondary proem probably addressed to the Muse (70– 1) and the “break-off formula” (247–50) that prepares for the poem’s closure. The main narrative does not finish with the return to Iolcus, but at the point in time that ties in to the conclusion of Medea’s prophecy.27 Apollonius focuses on the exploits of Heracles and Polydeuces in addition to those of Jason. Such centrifugal tendencies may appear to compromise the unity of the narrative, since they prioritize an episodic narrative over a dynamic one.28 But in reality they do not, as these episodes are made to mirror aspects of the main story. A similar centrifugal dynamic is present in Pythian 4 through the difference in focus in Medea’s prophecy and the actual mythological narrative. The former deals with Euphemus, while the latter with Jason. Instead of embedding the former in the latter, as one would expect in a traditional epic, Pindar juxtaposes them, presenting the actual mythological narrative as an appendage to Medea’s prophecy. The narrative of the Argonautic expedition is relevant inasmuch as it sets the background for the story of Euphemus, who in a way is the proper hero of the epinician song as the ancestor of the laudandus Arcesilaus. The resulting juxtaposition of Euphemus with Jason prepares for the juxtaposition of Jason with both Heracles and Polydeuces in Apollonius’s Argonautica. Jason is the foil to Euphemus, and both Argonauts parallel the victorious Arcesilaus. Apollonius’s biggest debt to Pindar’s account lies in Pindar’s decision to depict Jason as a victorious athlete. Unlike Apollonius’s account though, in Pythian 4 epinician hue does not influence the Colchian episode; rather, it is more apparent in Jason’s first public appearance in Iolcus. Jason is represented as a victorious athlete when he returns home to Iolcus, rather than when he defeats Aeëtes’s bulls and the Spartoi. This means that Jason’s tutelage under Chiron is compared to the absence of an athlete participating in the Panhellenic games. One can read an initiatory character into Jason’s upbringing by Chiron. Chiron’s liminal position as a hybrid being combining equine and human aspects lends strength to this reading. Similarly, the leopard skin Jason dons when he returns home recalls the sojourn of initiates outside the city in the wilderness.29 Several modern scholars have compared the journey of athletes participating in games with an initiatory cycle: the athlete is first distanced from his family; during his

 27 Apollonius imitates Pindar: the narrative concludes while the Argonauts are still on Aegina. 28 For the term see Howald 1946: 11–63. 29 Burton 1962: 154. The leopard skin is an indication of Jason’s prowess as a hunter. Compare also the bear and lion skins Anchises uses as bed covers in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 159– 160; for the symbolism, see Faulkner 2008: 227 ad loc.

108  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica absence he retains a liminal position; after his victory he returns home to be reintegrated in the social group.30 Pindar focuses on the return of Jason from his early exploits, not from the Argonautic expedition. The brilliance that envelops Jason’s return home from his exile foreshadows his successful completion of the expedition and triumphant return home. Following Pindar, Apollonius adopts a similar approach, by not including the return of the Argo to Iolcus. Instead the narrative ends with the events on Aegina. Pindar’s choice is predicated on considerations that relate to the structure of his ode. Completing the narrative about the Argonautic expedition on Lemnos rather than Iolcus allows Pindar to return to the colonial discourse prominent in the first section of the ode. Arcesilaus’s family descends from one of those unions that took place on Lemnos. There is, in this light, no place for the return of the victor. However, Pindar cannot omit this crucial moment. Nostos is a significant aspect of any epic treatment of the Argonautic expedition and of Apollonius’s version as well. For Pindar this part of the story is significant because it offers the narrative setting for the colonial myths that interest both him and his laudandus. By casting Jason’s first appearance in epinician terms, Pindar can omit the concluding part of the story, but reference nonetheless the motif of nostos. The glorious return of Jason foreshadows his success and makes his actual return from Colchis redundant. Besides, Medea has clearly referenced the nostos not only of Jason, but of Euphemus as well. Pindar’s technique influences Apollonius. In the manner of the Pindaric narrator, Apollonius breaks off his narrative before the Argo actually reaches Iolcus. The successful return of the Argonauts to Iolcus is alluded to by their reception by the Phaeacians on the island of Drepane. In fact, Apollonius explicitly states that the Phaeacians receive the Argonauts as if they were their own sons (4.997, φαίης κεν ἑοῖς περὶ παισὶ γάνυσθαι).31 In this way Jason’s nostos is successfully concluded within the epic narrative. At the same time, Apollonius signals the ambiguous nature of Jason’s nostos, undermining its success.32 The love bond between Jason and Medea that Apollonius acknowledges prior to their consummation of their marriage is tainted by the sense of urgency and fear that has overcome the couple. In this regard, the gnōmē of lines 1165–1169 looks back to the question Apollonius poses to the Muse at the

 30 Crotty 1982: 108–138; Kurke 1991: 15–61; 1993. 31 A.R. 4.994–100. As in the Odyssey, reaching the Phaeacians guarantees that the nostos of the Argonauts will be completed successfully. 32 Note in particular A. R. 4.1163 (νοστήσας ἐς Ἰωλκὸν ὑπότροπος). Drepanē’s home-like quality is a mirage, cheating once again the readers’ expectation of a happy ending; cf. Hunter 2015: 221 on 995–997.

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opening of the fourth book, offering an answer: love is combined with fear and mistrust, and inevitably this is how things are always going to work out for Jason and Medea—an allusion to their Euripidean future.

Catalogue of Argonauts The way in which Apollonius and Pindar treat the catalogue of Argonauts in their respective poems offers a first illustration of the changes that Pindar brought to the traditional material in order to adjust it to the generic demands of epinician poetry. Understanding this aspect of Pindar’s treatment of the Argonautic myth will allow us to consider some of the structural peculiarities of Apollonius’s epic. The catalogue of the Argonauts (171–183) is the second catalogue in Pythian 4 after that of Jason’s male relatives (125–127). The genealogical aspect of the myth becomes significant in light of the extensive use that Pindar makes of similar discourse in his praise of Arcesilaus. In the same way in which Pindar traces the descent of his victor back to Euphemus and Poseidon through Battus, Jason situates himself in the line of the descendants of Aeolus. The catalogue of Jason’s comrades like that of his relatives sets the background for the more effective representation of Jason. Jason holds a status between immortality (the sons of gods) and mortality (his family). It is significant, therefore, that Pindar’s catalogue of the Argonauts unlike that of Apollonius is structured on the basis of the importance of the divine father, leading in a descending scale from the sons of Zeus to those of Hermes and then to the mortal Jason.33 Because of this, the epinician juxtaposition of the victor with a mythological foil intrudes in the mythological section of the ode: in the manner of the victors Pindar praises, Jason is effectively compared to heroes, who on account of their divine descent hold a higher status than he does. The fact that Pindar refers twice to them as ἡμίθεοι (12; 184; 211) and ἀντίθεοι (58) contextualizes this juxtaposition in the Hesiodic account of the five races (WD 159–60) and of the Homeric associations of the latter epithet.34 At the same time, this juxtaposition of Jason with other divine Argonauts is in all probability the source for Apollonius’s similar comparison of Jason with both Heracles and the Dioscuri. In Pindar, however, strong heroes are not the means of causing discord as in Apollonius, but reflect positively on Jason’s leadership. Finally, one notes that Pindar’s catalogue is not meant to be exhaustive. Mopsos (191) appears

 33 Levin 1971a: 34–35 focuses on the geographical articulation of the catalogue in Pythian 4 and its relevance for Apollonius’s catalogue. 34 Händel 1954: 48; Clauss 1990: 137–138; Hunter 1993: 128.

110  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica as an Argonaut although he is not mentioned in the catalogue. This suggests that the catalogue of the Argonauts is composed with a specific rhetorical function that adheres to the principles of the epinician genre, rather than aim at scholarly exhaustiveness as is the case with Apollonius. On the other hand, Apollonius’s catalogue of the Argonauts is structured on different principles and performs a significant narrative role in Apollonius’s epic design.35 The fact that Orpheus heads the catalogue indicates that poetic skill is considered more important for the cohesion of the group than the seniority of the divine father as in Pythian 4. Nonetheless, even in Apollonius the catalogue retains its structural function as background for Jason, particularly since, as James Clauss (1993: 30–34) has shown, it offers two kinds of heroic prowess necessary for the success of the expedition, skill (Orpheus) and strength (Heracles). Unlike Pindar, though, Apollonius strives towards exhaustiveness. In so doing, Apollonius takes advantage of the opportunity to parade recherché information regarding lineage, relative chronology in epic, geography, and parochial mythological traditions.36 The centrality that this catalogue holds as part of Apollonius’s construction of his role as poet is suggested by the opening lines of the epic. Lines 18–20 contrast two possible topics: the construction of the Argo and the catalogue of the Argonauts. The former is associated with previous poets, a possible reference to the Naupactia.37 Apollonius opts for the catalogue. The catalogue is structured in ring composition, starting (Orpheus) and ending (sons of Boreas) with entries related to Thrace.38 The material included in the main body of the catalogue follows a cyclical arrangement similar to that in the Homeric Catalogue of Ships. From Thrace, Apollonius moves to Thessaly, Euboea, Athens, Boeotia, the Peloponnese, only to return to Thrace. In the center of this cycle, another cycle of Peloponnesian Argonauts is embedded. From the point of view of the composition of the Argonautica the cyclical arrangement of the entries in the catalogue mirrors the cyclical movement of the Argonauts between Thessaly and Colchis. Accordingly, the catalogue acquires a significant role as a miniature depiction of the expedition itself. Under the influence of the Homeric epics, catalogues became an indispensible part of epic poetry,39 so much so that the inclusion of such a device in Pythian

 35 The only specimen of grouping heroes according to their father is the three sons of Poseidon (Euphemus, Erginus, Ankaios) in 179–189: this could well be a Pindaric reminiscence. 36 Levin 1971a: 24–36. 37 Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 51n2. On the influence of this epic on Apollonius, see Matthews 1977. 38 Levin 1971a: 24–28. 39 Shapiro 1980: 264; Knight 1995: 25.

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4 can be seen as an epicizing ornament that accommodates Pindaric predilection for the juxtaposition of the victorious hero (Jason) with semidivine heroes. Apollonius follows this principle not only in the catalogue section of his epic, but also later in the narrative especially in the presentation of Aeëtes, Heracles, and the Dioscuri.

Divine Foils and Epinician Echoes: Aeëtes Jason’s interaction with Aeëtes in Pythian 4 is kept to a minimum. Aeëtes is accorded some speaking lines, and these can help uncover some aspects of his role in Pindar’s myth. Apart from explaining that his challenge is a task fit solely for a king, Aeëtes stipulates that whoever braves the task will have to do it by himself (227, πελάσσειν μοῦνος). The phrasing recalls similar formulas in epinician discourse. It is usual for an epigrammatist or an epinician poet to celebrate the uniqueness of his laudandus’s achievement.40 Quite possibly Aeëtes’s words reflect epinician discourse here. This allusion to details of epinician praise are motivated by the details the poet adds: Aeëtes’s request is not unreasonable; if the Colchian king can do it, surely any contender should. In this regard, Jason’s performance while at Colchis is again seen against the background that Aeëtes sets. Aeëtes is an opponent that can either make Jason a hero or put such aspirations to rest. The fact that Aeëtes is the offspring of a god suggests that the two men are not competing on an equal footing. Nonetheless, the relationship is typical of Pindaric mythology: the foils Pindar selects are either divine or semidivine; it is against such standards that the mortal athlete aspires to win undying fame. This aspect of Pindar’s myth is crucial if we wish to understand Apollonius’s depiction of the same episode. On the model of Pindar, Apollonius keeps the royal character of the task Aeëtes sets to Jason.41 δώσω τοι χρύσειον ἄγειν δέρος, ἤν κ’ ἐθέλῃσθα, πειρηθείς· ἐσθλοῖς γὰρ ἐπ’ ἀνδράσιν οὔτι μεγαίρω

(405)

 40 cf. e.g. Pindar (Ol. 13. 30–31); Callimachus (fr. 384.29–30 Pf.); Theocritus (17.15, 38, 121, 129 [cf. Meincke 1965: 151]) Ep. 31.2 Ebert (with his note ad loc.). See also Dickie 2008: 28 with n. 72 41 Stephens 2003: 215; Green 2007: 266 on 404–421. The royal character of the task seems to be predicated on Jason’s having a legitimate claim to the throne of Pelias. Jason’s claim, however, seems to be a Pindaric innovation (Dräger 1993: 150–161; 2001: 20–21). One could then attribute the royal character of the test to Pindar. By contrast, in the Naupactia Acastus succeeds his murdered father, while Jason moves to Corcyra; cf. Matthews 1977: 205–206.

112  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica ὡς αὐτοὶ μυθεῖσθε τὸν Ἑλλάδι κοιρανέοντα. πεῖρα δέ τοι μένεός τε καὶ ἀλκῆς ἔσσετ’ ἄεθλος τόν ῥ’ αὐτὸς περίειμι χεροῖν, ὀλοόν περ ἐόντα. I will give you the golden fleece to carry off, if you wish to go through a trial; for I have no grudge against noble men as you say about him who reigns in Greece. The contest, which I can perform with my hands, deadly though it is, will test your might and courage.

The rationale behind Aeëtes’s proposition resembles one of Pindar’s basic tenets that true nature needs to be proved through test: the test is meant as πεῖρα of μένος and ἀλκή. Just as the Pindaric Aeëtes, Apollonius’s Aeëtes also adds that this is a test that he excels in, suggesting the royal character of the test proposed. Despite the similarities between the versions of Pindar and Apollonius, the Hellenistic poet throws into relief the fact that Aeëtes and Jason are unequal, going even further than this. After Jason performs the rites suggested by Medea, the poet describes the arming of Aeëtes and Jason.42 This happens more for the sake of incorporating a proper arming scene in the epic rather than in preparation for what is to follow. Jason will not need his armor since, in true athletic fashion, he will perform the tasks naked.43 For Aeëtes putting on his divine armor is more of a show for the gathered crowds rather than a necessity.44 It intimates that Aeëtes is a fearsome opponent, but things will never come to a one-to-one fight between Jason and Aeëtes. But even if they did, as Apollonius makes sure to let us know, Jason would not be up to the task. Only Heracles would (3.1231–1234). This has been seen as another slight to Jason on Apollonius’s part.45 Would that be necessary? Idas has already taken umbrage at the fact that they, valiant heroes that they are, must rely upon the advice of a young girl. But as with Idas there is always more than meets the eye, and this is also the case with the mention of Heracles in this context. For the reader that remembers the techniques of Homeric poetry, Apollonius’s description of Aeëtes’s arming is a foreshadowing of his aristeia.46 All the formal elements are there. Apollonius shortens the typical scene, but follows the  42 See the detailed discussion of Thiel 1996. 43 Cf. Knight 1995: 101 with n. 83. 44 Knight 1995: 102–103 also points out the connection between Aeëtes’s arming and that of Athena in Iliad 5. 45 Green 2007: 286 on 1232–1234. Contra Fränkel 1968: 437–438, Hunter 1989: 234 ad loc. 46 Krischer 1971: 23–36.

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usual sequence. No word is wasted on the greaves; instead the poet focuses on Aeëtes’s corselet and his resplendent golden helmet. As a rule, light in this context betokens victory.47 Since Jason will prove victorious, Apollonius’s use of this motif as well as of the whole arming type-scene forms part of his poetics of misdirection:48 the narrator artfully raises expectations in his readers only to frustrate them. Thus, the poet demands closer engagement with his text from his audience, inviting them to read between the lines. The scene concludes with Aeëtes picking up his shield and dreadful spear. A king of Aeëtes’s status can only have weapons that in true epic fashion have their own pedigree. Bringing in such information at this point has a bearing on the reader’s take on the scene. The body armor belongs to the giant Mimas killed by Ares on the Phlegraean plain. Aeëtes is effectively compared to a giant, while he is also seen as a friend of Ares.49 The Phlegraean plain is the battlefield where Zeus and the rest of the Olympians, with the help of Heracles, defeated the Giants. Aeëtes is grouped with Zeus’s foes, and the reader is expected to recall Zeus’s victory over his enemies in the first scene on Jason’s cloak (1.730–734). Prior to the actual task, Apollonius calls Aeëtes ὑπερφίαλος (3.15) like the task he sets Jason (3.428, ἄεθλον ὑπερφίαλον).50 The epithet has strong associations with another boorish king since it is used in book 2 for both Amycus (54) and his people (129, 758).51 In Homer, ὑπερφίαλος is associated normally with the epic hero’s enemies: the Trojans in the Iliad (e.g. 13.621; 21.224); the Cyclopes (9.106) and the suitors (2.310; 4.790; 13.373) in the Odyssey. Aeëtes is a force inimical to Zeus’s rule and this implication is strengthened by a series of details Apollonius enumerates. At 4.131 Apollonius refers to Aeëtes’s kingdom as Aiē Titēnis, “Aia land of the Titans.” Throughout the epic Aeëtes combines elements characteristic of Zeus’s foes.52 One should also consider that the snake that Aeëtes keeps as a  47 Krischer 1971: 36–38. 48 I borrow the term “misdirection” from J.V. Morrison 1992. 49 Fränkel 1968: 436–437 on 1225–1230; Green 2007: 286 on 1226–1230. For Aeëtes’s character, see M.F. Williams 1996, particularly 472–476 for the association with Ares and the negative implications of the arming scene. I cannot agree with Williams’s concluding remarks (478–479), according to which Aeëtes is an honorable defender of his homeland that adheres to the Homeric code. Aeëtes’s duplicity in his dealings as well as his proneness to violent outbursts mark him as a tyrannical figure. 50 Cf. A. R. 4.1083 also of Aeëtes. The application of ὑπερφίαλος to Telamon’s attack on Jason at 1.1334 is an indication of his fault: in so doing, Telamon momentarily aligns himself with “bad” figures like Amycus and Aeëtes. On Telamon’s angry outburst, see Mori 2005. 51 For the similarities between Aeëtes and Amycus these echoes imply, see A.R. Rose 1984. 52 M.F. Williams 1996: 468–469, 473, 476. The geography of Aeëtes’s kingdom is invested with landmarks commemorating battles between gods in primeval times prior to Zeus’s establishing

114  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica guardian of the fleece was created by the blood of Typhon, Zeus’s archenemy. The clash between Jason and Aeëtes is thus seen in light of the clash between Olympic and chthonic powers.53 As a mere mortal Jason cannot participate in a battle with such cosmic ramifications. Heracles could and did, and the poet prepares for his mention smoothly. After the resplendent helmet, Apollonius focuses on Aeëtes’s spear. Apollonius reworks an element from the arming of Patroclus in Iliad 16.54 Homer specifies that Patroclus did not take Achilles’s famous spear handed down from Chiron to Peleus and from him to Achilles (140–44): the reason for this was that Achilles was the only one in the Greek camp who knew how to wield it. This throws into relief Patroclus’s inability to effectively replace Achilles. Apollonius keeps the sentiment but does not apply it to Aeëtes, whose spear this is after all, but to his opponent Jason. Jason cannot withstand the spear: only Heracles could. Applying the analogy between Patroclus and Achilles onto Jason and Heracles suggests that Jason is an unsuccessful surrogate for Heracles. This does not concern solely Jason, but all heroes. Apollonius stresses this by referring to them as ἀνδρῶν ἡρώων, “heroic men” (1233).55 This reflects the Hesiodic race of heroes, and so covers not only the Argonauts but even those who came after them (i.e. Theban and Trojan heroes). Apollonius sets up a formal analogy between Heracles and Jason, with Jason being overshadowed by the son of Zeus. This does reflect badly on him, but nonetheless it acknowledges the limitations of his heroic credentials. Heracles is the fit opponent for a son of a god. He sets the limits beyond which no mortal can go. Jason is not the only one to be compared to Heracles and be found lacking. Even after Polydeuces’s brilliant victory over the brutish Amycus, some people think that Heracles would have dispatched Amycus in a more cursory fashion.56

 his rule: the island of Philyra (2.1231–1235) associated with Zeus’s secret upbringing on Crete; Prometheus bound on the peak of Caucasus (2.1246–1259). Cronus and Prometheus are Zeus’s opponents. By analogy Aeëtes, like them, opposes Jason. I would also note that Zeus’s youth parallels that of Jason and the Argonauts. For the political implications of this imagery, see Hunter 1991. 53 A.R. Rose 1984: 124–130; Hunter 1991: 88–89; 1995: 28, 58; 2003: 209–212. 54 For the connection, see Fränkel 1968: 438n198; Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 519 on 1225–1234; Hunter 1989: 234 on 1232–1234. 55 The implications of martial prowess and strength that the designation “hero” carries are ironically undercut by the ineptitude of the Argonauts. For the similarities between Jason and the rest of the Argonauts, see Fränkel 1960: 18n19; Pietsch 1999: 106. 56 A.R. 2.144–154: see Green 2007: 235–236 on 145–153.

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It is the fate of all mortals and demigods to walk in the footsteps of Heracles.57 To even be compared to Heracles is an act of praise in itself. Accordingly, I would suggest that we approach the juxtaposition between Heracles and Jason as an allusion to Pindar’s propensity to employ Heracles as foil to his athletes.58 In the Lemnian episode, Heracles establishes himself as the wise hero, a kind of Nestor, who advises and protects his younger comrades.59 Heracles reminds Jason and the rest of the Argonauts what true heroism entails. It is a solitary job, as Heracles knows all too well, and Aeëtes’s μοῦνος in Pindar brings this truth home to the young Jason. Apollonius overdetermines the relationship between athlete and epinician foil he finds in Pindar’s version. Aeëtes is Jason’s opponent; he is divine and a formidable hero. To defeat him Jason needs to rise above his mortal status and momentarily become a god or hero like Heracles. This Jason actually achieves through the magical drugs Medea gives Jason.60 We do not know how archaic epics treated Heracles’s presence in the Argonautic expedition. Still, his role in Apollonius can be construed along the lines Pindar established for Heracles in his victory songs. In defeating Aeëtes, Jason steals something of Heracles’s heroic prestige. Heracles influences several aspects of Jason’s preparation. Jason is anointed with a potion Medea gave him. This provides evanescent immortality, manifested here through the impenetrability of Jason’s body (3.1246–1255). In this regard, Jason again parallels Heracles who possesses the same attribute by virtue of the lion’s hide.61 One also senses a general similarity between the sort of story Jason participates in, especially in Colchis, and analogous myths about Heracles. Pindar does not elaborate on Aeëtes’s character. He suggests solely formal analogies between the Colchian king and Pelias.62 Pindar also intimates that Aeëtes tried to get Jason killed by keeping  57 Lycus’s address to the Argonauts (2.774–810) beautifully conveys this idea: the defeat of Amycus and the subsequent visit to Lycus repeat earlier actions of Heracles. The idea is repeated again when the Argonauts pass the land of the Amazons (2.964–71) and reach the garden of the Hesperides (4.1400–1405). See the seminal discussion of Feeney 1986. 58 In making this claim, I am aware that I reduce the polyvalent representation of Heracles by Apollonius. Nonetheless, these aspects of Heracles’s figure serve to provide a measure of comparison or limit for the other heroes; cf. Goldhill 1991: 314–315. This function, I contend, is a sign of Pindaric influence on Apollonius. A possible early trace of the technique is found at Il. 18.117. 59 For the irony of having Heracles preach continence, see Hunter 1995: 34–35. 60 Heroic tales offer a formal analogy for a divine agent supporting the young hero. Pelops in Olympian 1 is supported by his erstwhile lover, Poseidon. Ariadne helps Theseus, while Achilles is supported by his mother who entreats Zeus and provides her son with a suit of divine armor. 61 The impenetrability of the hero’s body is a common element in heroic tales. Achilles’s divine armor must have originally had similar qualities: P.J. Kakridis 1961. 62 Segal 1986: 60.

116  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica the existence of the snake guarding the fleece a secret. Apollonius innovates considerably in his depiction of Aeëtes and even projects upon him elements that in Pythian 4 pertain to the depiction of Pelias. Like Pelias, Aeëtes in the Argonautica receives oracles that cause him to suspect the members of his own family.63 The fear that surrounds both Aeëtes and Pelias conveys the tyrannical character of their rule. Aeëtes is an inhospitable king quite like Pelias but even more like kings or characters that Heracles has to dispose of.64 The use of the brazen bulls may be paralleled by the brazen cows used by such an inhospitable king as Phalaris. Aetia 2 (frr. 44–47 Harder) juxtaposes Phalaris with Bousiris. Both were Egyptians kings who mistreated strangers and were punished by Heracles.65 Aeëtes’s similarities to these kings is telling. Aeëtes rules over a land founded by the Egyptian King Sesostris (4.267–293). He further imitates pharaonic ideology in that he styles himself as the son of the sun god (3.576–608).66 His son’s name (Phaëthon) recalls that of Helios’s son suggesting that the Colchian dynasty imitates the divine dynasty of Helios. The Spartoi that rise from the dragon’s teeth are a divine race of sorts. They are γηγενεῖς and so belong with other monsters such as giants, dragons, and Typhon.67 Again a mortal man is faced with divine opponents in a conflict that has much in common with Heracles’s confrontation with the Giants on the Phlegraean plain. Jason needs to become divinely strong, like Heracles, and this happens through the agency of Medea, who at this point plays the role of Poseidon helping Pelops: erotic relationship, purveyance of magical means, competition with an angry king; the analogy with Olympian 1 is complete. Medea’s magic potion results in Jason’s attaining immortal indestructibility. All things considered, Jason comes out of the comparison with both Heracles and Pindar’s Pelops in Olympian 1 in a positive light: Jason faces a superior opponent, who has divine powers or means at his disposal. Heracles is a demigod and so superior to most villains he faces, while Pelops’s opponent, Oenomaus, has no divine backing at all. Apollonius’s depiction of Aeëtes brings together elements that are associated with archetypal foes of Heracles and his father Zeus. Apollonius has prepared for this by the scenes he includes on Jason’s cloak. Jason reenacts aspects of the

 63 Nyberg 1992: 86–87. 64 Feeney 1986: 58. Aeëtes’s inhospitability is discussed by M.F. Williams 1996: 466n18, 469. 65 Stephens 2002: 252–254. For the symbolism of bronze see Hunter 1989: 122 on 217–218; M.F. Williams 1996: 470–471. 66 For Aeëtes as an oriental despot, see Vian 1976–1981: vol. 2, 19–23; Hunter 1991, 1995: 159– 161; Stephens 2003: 175–177. See also Stephens 2011 for the Ptolemaic relevance of Colchis. 67 Vian 1961; A.R. Rose 1984: 123–124.

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myths depicted on it. He also imitates Heracles who is seen as one of the mythological foils Pindar uses in his odes. The emphasis on the preparation of Aeëtes suggests the possibility of a fight between the Colchian king and Jason, but this is avoided.68 The association of Aeëtes with Ares further strengthens the anti-Heraclean implications of this king. Ares is Heracles’s opponent in the Hesiodic Shield and the Colchian fleet pursues the Argonauts like Ares’s birds (4.237–240). As Cedric Whitman (1958: 234–236) notes with regard to Homer’s representation of Ares in the Iliad, Ares is associated with unruly conduct in warfare and defeat. In Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos, Ares is associated with powers of destruction threatening Apollo’s mother and Zeus’s rule. The organic combination of material that Apollonius inherits from Homer and Pindar allows him to intimate the success of Jason over Aeëtes. In successfully completing the tasks set to him, Jason recalls Pindar’s victors who surpass the limits of their power and so approach the divine. Aeëtes’s speech, specifically his reference to βασιλεύς (229), proves beyond any doubt that for Pindar the expedition is proof of royalty and that the fleece is a royal talisman that allows Jason to claim the throne of his father.69 The adjective ἄφθιτον (“imperishable”) that Pindar attributes to the fleece implies that it is also a symbol of the immortality that each hero or athlete can attain through vigorous effort.70 Furthermore, the epithet looks back to the similar use of the word for Poseidon and the Libyan clod in Pythian 4. This repetition strengthens the analogy between Euphemus as an ancestor of the Cyrenean victor and Jason as a king: both get an item that is connected with the divine world and that singles them out as recipients of divine favor. Both aspects are pertinent to the praise of Arcesilaus: Arcesilaus wins a victory that brings his heroic innate excellence to the surface, confirms him in his royal role, and grants him immortality in the form of everlasting fame. The use of terms such as ἄεθλος or πόνος by both Pindar and Apollonius contributes to conceptualizing the tasks facing Jason as an athletic competition. Jason competes against Aeëtes. Although he does not say that much, Pindar’s Aeëtes makes this clear, and Apollonius makes sure to mention this too: the tasks

 68 This narrative misdirection seems inherited from Bacchylides 17: the confrontation of Theseus with Minos suggests that a duel will follow; this possibility never materializes. Instead, Theseus, like Jason in the Argonautica, is required by Minos to perform a wondrous task; cf. Kampakoglou 2016b: 154. For the connection between the two myths, see Segal 1986: 56n8. 69 Moreau 1994: 93–94, 143–145. 70 Duchemin 1955: 236.

118  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica that Jason is expected to carry out have already been successfully completed before by Aeëtes himself. Jason needs to measure himself against the standard that Aeëtes sets. In addition to these considerations, Apollonius includes further markers that help present the circumstances of the task in Colchis as similar to those in Panhellenic games. Having completed his arming, Aeëtes gets on his chariot and drives to the field of Ares followed by his people (3.1240–1245). Apollonius adds to the majesty of the Colchian king by comparing him to Poseidon whenever he visits one of his cult centers. The simile leads to a list of cult centers typical in hymns. In this regard, the appearance of Aeëtes also resembles a divine epiphany.71 The selection of the locales associated with the cult of Poseidon is also tell72 ing. Apollonius mentions the Isthmus, Taenarus, Lerna, Onchestus, Celaurea, Petra, and Geraestus. The list does not serve a particular function; rather, it demonstrates Apollonius’s erudition. Nonetheless, some entries in this catalogue merit attention. The Isthmus is the place of the games dedicated to Poseidon. By situating this at the very beginning of the list, Apollonius intimates that what is to follow resembles the games in Poseidon’s honor. The reference to the Isthmia recalls Poseidon’s visit to the same festival at Nemean 5.37.73 There the god is received with sacrifices and music by the groups of athletes organized in “troops” (ἶλαι).74 Aeëtes is similarly followed by a group of subjects who hold him in a similar esteem to the god. Although the event is supposed to serve the delectation of the Colchian king,75 this prospect will be betrayed by Jason’s miraculous performance. In this manner, the use of Poseidon as a paragon for the Colchian King is part of the same nexus of misleading hints with which the narrator imbues his text. Confident in his power and authority, convinced of the success of his scheme, Aeëtes resembles monstrous or cruel sons of Poseidon who are outdone by lesser opponents through the use of sheer strength or cunning. One thinks in particular of Amycus in book 2 and Polyphemus in Odyssey 9.76 In this manner, Apollonius prepares for Jason’s success and juxtaposes it with that of Polydeuces

 71 Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 521 on 1240–1245; Hunter 1989: 234–235 on 1240–1245; Kampakoglou 2018: 115. Compare also the appearances of Jason in book 1 (306–309) and of Medea in book 3 (876–886). 72 Mooney 1912: 291–292; Vian 1961: 146–147 ad loc. 73 Mooney 1912: 291 on line 1240. 74 Pind. Nem. 5.38–39. See Pfeijffer 1999: 76–78, 164–165 ad loc. 75 Fränkel 1968: 438 ad loc. 76 Knight 1995: 131–132, 137; Hunter 1995: 90, 160.

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in book 2. Virginia Knight (1995: 137) notes that like Poseidon in the Odyssey Aeëtes will serve as Jason’s nemesis in his nostos.77 This is certainly true when one remembers that both fathers lost a son to Odysseus and Jason respectively: Apsyrtus was killed by Jason and Polyphemus was blinded by Odysseus.78 In addition, I would also suggest that Apollonius reflects the prominence of Poseidon in other accounts of the Argonautic expedition in order to subvert Aeëtes’s prospects of success. In Pythian 4, Poseidon is supportive of Jason’s expedition helping the Argo pass successfully through the Clashing Rocks (204–209). In addition to this role, Poseidon is the father of Euphemus (44–45) and consequently divine forefather of the victor Arcesilaus himself. Finally, it is through the agency of another son of Poseidon, Triton-Eurypylus (32–33) that the founding of Cyrene is made possible.79 That Poseidon had a prominent role in the Argonautic myth before Pindar is probably suggested by an ancient scholium on Euripides’s Medea (PMG 576): according to this, Simonides described the fleece as being purple rather than gold.80 The scholiast remarks that this piece of information was included in what was a “Hymn to Poseidon.” One may hypothesize that Poseidon was praised on account of the help he offered to the Argonauts.81 However, the possibility is rejected by the most recent editor of Simonides’s fragments, who argues instead that Simonides’s hymn told the story of Theseus’s journey to Crete.82 The allusion to the Isthmian Games could look back at Eumelus’s Corinthiaca (fr. 22* West—cf. Apollodorus Lib. 1.9.27): after his arrival in Corinth, Jason celebrated the Isthmian Games there for the first time. Jason offers the Argo to Poseidon after the first ever boat race.83 One suspects that this part of Apollonius’s narrative replaces the athletic competitions other accounts include.84 This inter 77 For the comparison to Poseidon adding to Aeëtes’s cruelty, see DeForest 1994: 48–49. 78 Loss of light is seen in Greek poetry as equivalent to losing one’s life (cf. Teiresias in Callimachus’s Hymn 5) 79 Farnell 1932: 144–145 speculates that the prominence of Poseidon in Pythian 4 reflects his role as tribal god of the Minyans. See also Wilamowitz 1922: 385. For the role of Triton, see Davies 2002. 80 For the influence of Simonides’s version on Apollonius, see Acosta-Hughes 2010: 198–205. For the equivalence of gold with purple, see Duchemin 1955: 196–200. 81 Acosta-Hughes 2010: 199. 82 Poltera 2008: 400–402 on F 242 (= PMG 550 + 576). One may point out, however, that Jason uses Theseus’s story as a parallel to his own in his talk with Medea in book 3 (997–1004): cf. Goldhill 1991: 301–305. 83 Tsagalis 2017: 108–119. 84 For Apollonius’s omission of athletic competition (e.g. Cyzicus, Lemnus, Iolcus), see Hunter 1995: 36–37; Knight 1995: 25.

120  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica pretation is strengthened by another consideration. The distance that the Argonauts have to cover to reach the field of Ares is described in athletic terms (1272, βαλβίς, νύσσα)85 as if Jason were to participate in an athletic competition—specifically the funeral games in honor of a dead king (1273–1274). The characterization of the games cannot be fortuitous, but probably reflects the participation of the Argonauts in the funeral games for various kings: Cyzicus, Thoas on Lemnos, or for Pelias in Iolcus. In view of the association Apollonius suggests between his Aeëtes and Pindar’s Pelias, one suspects that the latter games might be implied. In this case too, the funeral character of the games foreshadows Aeëtes’s defeat. At the same time, the allusion to athletic games just before the actual task would reverse the order we find in Pindar’s Pythian 4: completion of task, stealing of Medea and the fleece, murder of Pelias, funeral games for Thoas on Lemnos (249– 253). If that is so, the reference to the games is a calculated move that highlights the epinician aspect of the confrontation between Aeëtes and Jason. Finally, possible Pindaric connections are provided by the other cult centers referenced. Particularly intriguing is the reference to Petra as Haimoniē (1244): Jason is the son of Haimon. The designation of Petra by this epithet acknowledges the Pindaric innovation whereby Jason had a legitimate claim to the throne of Pelias. Let us not forget that Jason addresses Pelias in Pythian 4 as the son of Petraeus Poseidon. In view of this address, the association of Petra with Haemon in the Argonautica is ironic, while it also reinforces the impression that Aeëtes matches Pindar’s Pelias. At least two more of the locations mentioned are relevant to the myth. In Pythian 4, Euphemus ought to have taken the clod of Libyan earth to Taenarus,86 while Lerna is associated with one of Heracles’s tasks. Both locales have strong chthonic associations that contribute to the ominous aspect that Aeëtes has in this scene.

The Poetics of Jason’s Victory Unlike his counterpart in Apollonius, there are no deliberation scenes for Pindar’s Jason. The Pindaric hero welcomes danger. Obviously, he has no reason to be scared; he has received Medea’s help. Jason throws himself to the task, trusting in a god, whose identity, however, is never revealed (θεῶι πίσυνος).87 The involvement of gods in Pindar is greater than in the Argonautica, being more in tune

 85 Fränkel 1968: 439–440 ad loc.; Hunter 1989: 239–240 on 1272. 86 On the significance of this detail, see Davies 2002: 53–54. 87 Identified as either Erōs or Aphrodite by the ancient scholiast ad 412b.

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with what one would expect in older epic traditions. Hiding the god’s identity at this point indicates that what counts is not who this god is, but rather his function as supporter. The analogy between the myth and epinician ideology takes again precedence over mythological details. It is at this point that Medea makes a brief appearance in the dative case grammatically subordinated to Jason (233): παμφαρμάκου ξείνας ἐφετμαῖς, “by the advice of the stranger, skilled connoisseur of all drugs.” The phrase functions as a précis of the myth: Medea is the powerful witch that sustains Jason in his task. Pindar carefully structures the reaction of Aeëtes in a way that clearly parallels that of Pelias earlier in the poem. The analogy between the two kings is an element absent from Apollonius. Instead Apollonius focuses on the contrast between the negative and positive models that are Aeëtes and Alcinoos. When Jason appears in Iolcus, Pelias’s first reaction is one of surprise (τάφε δ᾽αὐτίκα) and anguished looks (παπταίνων). Pelias makes an effort to hide his fear in his heart (κλέπτων δὲ θυμῷ δεῖμα). Recognizing the fateful sandal the Delphic oracle had foretold him, he fears for his life. In the Argonautica, Apollonius associates παπταίνω repeatedly with the issue of establishing the leader of the expedition and Jason’s heroic credentials.88 The systematic use of this word in similar contexts throughout the epic leaves no doubt that this is an aspect of the importance of gaze in Apollonius’s epic. One should not stress unduly the importance of such a common epic verb, but it is possible that Apollonius developed this use for παπταίνω in the Argonautica under the influence of this Pindaric scene. Even if one is unwilling to press this point any further, the importance of public appearances in Pythian 4 offers an excellent vantage point from which to approach the way in which characters gaze at Jason and understand his role as a leader. If we move to the scene after the completion of the task, we note that Pindar again chooses his terms very carefully (237–238): ἴυξεν δ᾽ ἀφωνήτῳ πὲρ ἔμπας ἄχει | δύνασιν Αἰήτας ἀγασθείς. Jason’s victory causes a welter of emotional reactions.89 The technique is well known from an analogous scene in Nemean 1. There Pindar presents Heracles’s success through the focalization of the awe-stricken bystanders.90 In Nemean 1 the embedded audience comprises two groups with distinct reactions, a female and a male one. In Pythian 4, the reaction of Aeëtes is juxtaposed with the jubilations of the Argonauts who proceed to perform a prototypical epinician. Aeëtes’s reaction is characterized as “distress” (ἄχος); similar to Pelias, Aeëtes does not vent his pain, he keeps it hidden, “unspoken”  88 Kampakoglou 2018: 117. 89 Köhnken 2001: 66–67. 90 See discussion in Chapter 5 pp. 191–193.

122  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica (ἀφωνήτῳ). As Pindar carefully notes, keeping his composure in public does not mean that Aeëtes is not angry. On the contrary, he is already thinking of his next trap which involves the dragon. This window in Aeëtes’s heart is enough to establish a general similarity between the Pindaric and Apollonian versions of the Colchian king. Jason’s prowess (δύνασις) causes Aeëtes’s amazement and wonder (ἀγασθείς). Such amazement is a typical reaction to the manifestations of divine, here heroic, presence. Similarly in Apollonius, Aeëtes is amazed at the superior strength of Jason.91 A quasi-epiphanic manifestation of heroic prowess underlies both scenes. The only other use of the verb in Pindar may strengthen the connotations of this use in Pythian 4. In Paean 8 (fr. 52i Sn.-M. = D6 Rutherford), ἄγαμαι is used for the reaction of the gods to the sweet voice of the κηληδόνες, the robotic enchantresses with which Hephaestus and Athena festoon the roof of the Delphic oracle (75). Amazement combines with fear or concern for mortal pilgrims causing the gods to bury the κηληδόνες underground (72–79).92 In the case of Aeëtes, one also suspects, that ἀγασθείς implies the recognition that superhuman power is at play. Apollonius, consciously aware of such intimations, presents Medea worried that her father has seen through her treachery. That more hides behind the surface of Pindar’s text is suggested by the etymological game ἴυξεν implies. Aeëtes “cries out” and this emphatically contrasts with the unspoken pain that swells in his chest.93 The verb is ambiguous: ἴυξεν can be construed both as a positive as well as a negative reaction; it expresses Aeëtes’s admiration of Jason’s prowess, but it also conveys his pain and humiliation. In addition, ἴυξεν recalls ἴυγξ, the magical means Jason employed to bewitch Medea, Aeëtes’s daughter. Aphrodite’s magic works through Medea upon her father causing him to shout aloud; in a way, Jason’s prowess manifests the divine potency of Aphrodite, and the pun suggests the recognition thereof. The difficult task completed, Jason is greeted with the jubilations of his comrades. The proximity of their reaction to that of Aeëtes gives almost the impression that Pindar includes Aeëtes in the Argonauts’ celebrations for Jason. Their acts parallel historical descriptions of epinician celebrations. The victorious athlete is carried around the stadium (περιαγερμός); at the same time he is pelted with leaves and wreaths (φυλλοβολία). Similarly, the Argonauts lift Jason with

 91 Kampakoglou 2018: 125–126. 92 Rutherford 2001: 220–221. 93 Compare the reaction of Aeëtes and his wife to Medea’s completion of the task in Medea’s dream (A.R. 3.631–632), which quite likely alludes to these lines in Pindar’s Pythian 4.

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their hands; they cover him with a wreath; and address sweet words to him.94 The honey-sweet words (240, μειλιχίοις τε λόγοις) with which the Argonauts address Jason probably refer to some kind of early epinician praise. Olympian 9 offers an example of such impromptu celebrations of the victor’s companions, which included, as we have seen, hailing the victor with Archilochus’s “Hymn to Heracles.” The circumstances of epinician celebration are thus projected into an immemorial past drawing a link between mythical and historical times. From the point of view of Pindar’s poetics, this maneuver allows the Theban poet to locate the beginnings of his art in time immemorial. Following Pindar, Apollonius repeats this experiment associating the beginning of epinician poetry with the victory of Polydeuces over Amycus. Such connections also add to the effectiveness of Pindar’s praise discourse. The sweet words the Argonauts address to Jason recall the sweetness of Jason’s discourse to Pelias in Pythian 4 and his diplomatic entreaties to Aeëtes in book 3 of the Argonautica. In all cases, both Pindar and Apollonius make use of words derived from the same root (*meilikh-) which indicates sweetness. Through this commonality, Pindar shares the same platform with his hero projecting Jason’s rhetorical efficacy upon his own poem, addressed to another king, Arcesilaus. Apollonius narrates Jason’s task in much more detail than Pindar, and this allows him to combine effectively the epinician character of the task with other traditional discourses. The connection to an athletic competition is mentioned first. The distance that the Argonauts have to cover to reach the field of Ares is described in athletic terms (1271, βαλβίς, νύσσα) as if Jason were to participate in an athletic competition. The epinician imagery is then combined with a martial one: Jason is naked, like an athlete;95 he is resplendent like Homeric heroes.96 The association of these two roles is perhaps understandable and expected in view of the analogy existing between the two of them.97 On the other hand, the similes and the actual test suggest an agricultural discourse, typical of Hesiod’s epic. Lover, athlete, warrior, Jason is also an excellent farmer.98 The agricultural imagery agrees with the major assumptions that run through the narrative—in particular, Zeus’s support of Jason. The placement of the simile  94 Giannini 1995: 492–493 ad loc. For the first two phases and their artistic representation, see Kefalidou 1996: 52–59. 95 One should note that Jason is also a farmer and as such, at least according to Hesiod, is supposed to work the earth naked: cf. Fränkel 1986: 441 on 1282f.; Hunter 1989: 241 on 1282–1283. 96 Whitman 1958: 132–146. See also Duchemin 1955: 193–228; Finley 1966: 53–56; Krischer 1971: 36–39. 97 Cf. Perysinakis 1990. 98 For Jason as a “farmer king,” see Jaffe 2017.

124  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica in lines 1399–1404, just after the successful completion of Jason’s feat recalls a principal epinician tenet (that is, that mortal victory is guaranteed through the help of a god) but also reinforces the poet’s message that Jason’s actions, and the expedition in general, meet with Zeus’s approval. The early destruction of the earthborn men is said to resemble the destruction of the harvest by Zeus’s rain. There is no intimation of a divine punishment being meted out to the unfortunate farmer. However, the analogy between the anonymous farmer and Aeëtes may suggest as much. This parallel creates another significant analogy between Zeus’s “unspeakable rain” and Jason. Thus, Jason becomes the means whereby Zeus effects his punishment on the hubristic Aeëtes. Aeëtes sets to Jason a twofold task: Jason needs first to yoke the fire-breathing bulls and plow the field of Ares; he must then use the Theban dragon’s teeth to sow the field. The nature of the acts can hardly be called epinician even though both Pindar and Apollonius invest it with such language and imagery. Once the bulls appear on the field, Apollonius focuses on the feeling of fear they cause to the Argonauts (3.1293–1296). Apollonius contrasts the reactions of the Argonauts—ironically called ἥρωες—with that of Jason. The appellation “hero” for the Argonauts is an indication of their-larger-than-life status. In this context, however, this designation contrasts strongly with their reaction to the bulls. This is all the more peculiar as some hundred lines before several Argonauts were eager to brave Aeëtes’s challenge. The Argonauts form the background against which Apollonius throws into relief Jason’s courage. The status of the viewers in this specific case is actually quite close to the embedded audience in Nemean 1: heroes and soldiers are taken aback by the magnitude of the feat facing Jason and Heracles respectively. Unlike Pindar, Apollonius does not offer a detailed description of the celebrations with which the Argonauts welcome Jason’s victory. Book 3 concludes in an ominous tone with Aeëtes brooding over his public disgrace (3.1403–1405). There is a faint glimpse of the celebrations in book 4 when Medea seeks the help of the Argonauts (4.67–69): ἀσπασίως δ’ ὄχθῃσιν ἐπηέρθη ποταμοῖο ἀντιπέρην λεύσσουσα πυρὸς σέλας ὅρρα τ’ ἀέθλου παννύχιοι ἥρωες ἐυφροσύνῃσιν ἔδαιον. She gladly climbed the banks of the river, looking at the bright fire on the other side, which the heroes burned all night during their celebrations for the successful contest.

The focus on the light in the celebration recalls the importance of this image in both epic and epinician poetry. Against the darkness of the night, light indicates

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the victorious prowess of the assembled heroes. At a time when proper athletic celebrations or epinician discourse as such still did not exist, these lines offer the equivalent of a prototypical epinician celebration. A pertinent parallel is offered by Pindar’s description of the first Olympic games in Olympian 10: ἐν δ’ ἕσπερον ἔφλεξεν εὐώπιδος σελάνας ἐρατὸν φάος. ἀείδετο δὲ πὰν τέμενος τερπναῖσι θαλίαις τὸν ἐγκώμιον ἀμφὶ τρόπον.

(75)

Bright shone in the evening the lovely flame of the fair-eyed Moon. During the delightful festivities the whole precinct resounded with songs in the manner appropriate to the celebration of victory.

Pindar describes here the celebrations for the first Olympic victors. There are several points of contact with Apollonius’s scene. The victors, heroes in their own right, celebrate with their comrades in an informal fashion. The moonlight accentuates the gathered men against the darkness of the night, indicating the brilliance that accompanies heroic prowess.99 Pindar completes this picture by mentioning the delivery of epinician praise songs. This mention enables him to transition to his own role in praising the laudandus (77–82).100 Inasmuch as Pindar finds the beginnings of his discourse in this occasion, this scene would attract the attention of poets who like Apollonius insert aitia of various kind in their own work.

Heracles: Epinician Excellence and the Heroics of Individuality In his perfunctory description of Hera’s involvement in the organization and success of the Argonautic expedition, Pindar remarks that it was Hera who instilled in the Argonauts πόθος (“desire”) for kleos as a remedy to dying in obscurity (Pythian 4.184–187). The phrasing is epinician in its origin and supports the analogy between athletes and heroes of past. Athletes are motivated to participate in the Panhellenic games by a desire to win immortal fame as did epic heroes before

 99 Spelman 2018: 47–48 discusses the light imagery in this scene. 100 See Mullen 1982: 185–208; Spelman 2018: 197–201.

126  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica them.101 Similar reasoning structures Pelops’s plea for help to Poseidon in Olympian 1 (81–85). By such means Hera works to add prestige to her favorite, Jason. The greatest heroes of the time join forces with Jason and accept his leadership. Pindar’s arrangement of the Argonauts in terms of the descending importance of their divine progenitor (Zeus, Poseidon, Apollo, Hermes, Boreas) lavishes further praise on the young hero. Pindar leaves no doubt that Jason is in control of the mustering, and no one at any time brings his leadership into question. This is not the case in the Argonautica. In a gesture, which probably betrays his own awkwardness in the presence of more mature heroes, Jason invites the Argonauts to elect their leader (1.332–340). As is expected the Argonauts turn to Heracles, who by any reckoning would be the hero best suited to lead such an expedition (1.341– 344). Heracles proves more courteous and assigns the role to Jason who organized the expedition in the first place (1.435–447).102 Heracles’s participation in the Argonautic expedition is ambiguous. Pindar obviously does not elaborate. But other sources make him participate long enough only to resign his post.103 Apollonius’s text betrays his anxiety to negotiate Heracles’s position in the group of younger heroes and his serving under Jason.104 Pindar did not share his difficulties, but one suspects that the special status Heracles had attained by the time Apollonius came to the story had altered the perception of the hero.105 In this section, I will try to show that one way through which Apollonius responds to the problem of Heracles’s position and role in the frame of the Argonautic expedition is by resorting to the perception of the hero Pindar established particularly in his victory songs. Both in terms of Heracles’s envisaged career as well as in terms of his heroic aloofness, Apollonius relies heavily on Pindar. Heracles personifies by virtue of his acts the attributes of true heroism, setting a model for the rest of the Argonauts. The comparison

 101 Bowra 1964: 169–170; Crotty 1982: 29; Scanlon 2002: 203. 102 Pietsch 1999: 131–133. 103 Herodorus of Heraclea (FGrHist 31 F 41a–b) reports that Heracles did not participate in the expedition at all because at the time he was serving Omphale. Pherecydes of Athens (fr. 111 Fowler) notes that the Argo refused to carry Heracles because of his weight; Heracles disembarked at Aphetae in Thessaly. Finally, Theocritus 13 preserves a tradition according to which Heracles reached Colchis on foot. 104 Kampakoglou 2018: 117–118. 105 Beside Pindar, Demaratus (FGrHist 42 F 2a–b) and Dionysius Scytobrachion (FGrHist 32 F 6a–b) are, as far as one can tell, the only two authors to represent Heracles reaching Colchis with the Argonauts. Dionysus indeed makes Heracles the leader of the expedition. A version represented on an Apulian crater of the 4th cent. BCE depicts Heracles fighting Aeëtes’s dragon alongside Jason (LIMC V 113–14 with image 2796).

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never works to the Argonauts’ advantage, but Pindar’s odes demonstrate that comparison to Heracles is honorific in itself. At the outset, it should be stated that Heracles retains several archaic elements that make him a cacophony in the group of the Argonauts.106 As AcostaHughes and Cusset 2011 have persuasively argued, Heracles represents a world and heroic ethos alien to that of the rest of the Argonauts but also unsuitable to the poetic idiom that Apollonius is trying to establish. Heracles is too large to fit in the frame that Apollonius creates. This should be taken both figuratively and literally. When Heracles first comes aboard the Argo, the narrator adds that his size weighs down the whole ship (1.531–533). Apollonius reflects here a tradition reported by Pherecydes of Athens, according to whom Heracles eventually abandoned the expedition because of his weight: he was too big for the Argo to carry.107 It is typical of Apollonius’s art to combine different versions of the same event in order for him to invest his epic with a monumental character that would render any further attempt at retelling the myth of the Argonautic expedition redundant. Later in book 1, Apollonius suggests another reason: the disappearance of Hylas. At this point the narrative focuses on Heracles’s size. This detail works towards creating a coherent image of Heracles and his unsuitability for this epic. Some readers may see this as a humorous reminiscence of the depiction of Heracles in comedy.108 This could be true, but one should also allow for the fact that the same theme could have more than one reading.109 Polyphony is certainly one of the effects Apollonius has in mind. But Heracles’s size or appetite are equivocal, and one ought to consider various aspects of them to do them full justice. A Pindaric fragment (fr. 168 Sn.–M.) describes Heracles’s voracious appetite, but, as Paola Angeli Bernardini (1976) has insisted, it is unlikely that Pindar seeks to produce a comic effect as Aristophanes does in his Frogs or Birds. If Heracles is hungry, this is significant as part of his heroic status. In this light one ought to approach the detail about Heracles’s size in the Argonautica with an eye to establishing additional interpretations. A cogent parallel is suggested by the Iliad. When Athena gets on Diomedes’s chariot in Iliad 5, Homer notes that the axle of the chariot suffered under her superhuman size (837–839). Is this a comic element? Not necessarily. Iliadic gods often serve as a source of amusement in the

 106 Lawall 1966: 130–131; Hunter 1993: 26–27. 107 Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 251n400; Feeney 1986: 54. 108 For Heracles in comedy, see Galinsky 1952: 81–100; Stafford 2012: 105–117. 109 The plurality in the traditions Apollonius uses in his depiction of Heracles is assessed by Beye 1982: 53–56; Goldhill 1991: 313–316; Hunter 1993: 25–26.

128  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica epic,110 but the poet consistently includes in his poem notes of a similar kind that suggest their superhuman powers.111 These concern their stature, size, volume of voice, weapons etc. A similar interpretation in the case of Apollonius’s Heracles would go a long way towards establishing his divine and archaic unsuitability for this common endeavor. Presenting the magnificent cloak that Jason dons when he visits Hypsipyle, Apollonius uses the same circumlocution he had previously used for the Argo:112 “work of the Itonian goddess” (1.721, θεᾶς Ἰτωνίδος ἔργον) and “the work of Itonian Athena” (1.551, ἔργον Ἀθηναίης Ἰτωνίδος). Both are products of Athena’s toil. In light of this connection, the metapoetic character of the cloak invites similar suggestions for the Argo as well.113 Assuming, for instance, that the Argo is the frame that holds together the story that Apollonius narrates, Heracles’s exclusion from this frame conveys the impossibility of keeping him in the story, at least not in the way that other poets before Apollonius did. Heracles would need a whole epic to himself. Apollonius can only include echoes of Heracles’s adventures in such a way that they dovetail with the progress of the Argonauts.114 Had Heracles been allowed to continue in the expedition, he could have compromised the unity of the poem. Heracles himself, in a noble gesture, acknowledges that this is not an epic about himself, but about Jason. Accordingly, he delivers the leadership to the young hero. But even so, Heracles can afford to do so from a position of authority that no other Argonaut can assume. Apollonius sets Heracles and the rest of the Argonauts in formal competition that can assume epinician connotations. One such example that indicates Heracles’s epinician profile in this epic is the rowing contest between Heracles and the rest of the Argonauts in book 1 that also serves as the introduction to the abduction of Hylas. This link suggests that Heracles’s exit from the narrative is motivated by aspects of his persona best seen in light of his epinician credentials. After leaving Cyzicus, the Argonauts decide to compete in rowing.115 Heracles not only surpasses all other Argonauts by the superior strength of his arms (1161–  110 Griffin 1980: 144–179. 111 Kirk 1990: 146–147 note on lines 838–839. These lines were deemed as inappropriate by some ancient readers, among whom was also Aristarchus, who obelized them. Apollonius’s imitation could imply his opinion on the subject. See also Feeney’s (1991: 72–73) discussion of 2.531–533. 112 Kampakoglou 2018: 120. 113 For Jason’s cloak, see Chapter 9 p. 379–382. 114 Feeney 1986: 59–60; Hutchinson 2006: 125. 115 For lines 1.1153–1163 see Fränkel 1968: 140 note ad loc.; Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 225–227 ad loc.; Clauss 1993: 180–190; Hunter 1995: 36–37; Green 2007: 228 on 1161–1171.

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1162), he also threatens the stability of the Argo—an indication of his unsuitability to the epic:116 in particular, note the strong contrast between ἐτίνασσε and ἀρηρότα δούρατα νηός at line 1163. In the end, Heracles is left with a broken oar that he needs to replace with a new one when they land (1186–1206).117 During his absence, Hylas, Heracles’s protégé, goes out to fetch water for Heracles’s dinner. Hylas is snatched by an enamored nymph, and Heracles leaves in search of him, thus abandoning the expedition (1206–1272). The Argonauts continue their journey, but it is only on the following day that they discover that Heracles is missing. A brawl erupts between Telamon, Heracles’s best friend, and Jason, the former accusing Jason of planning all along to abandon Heracles because of his insecure position (1290–1309).118 At this moment, Glaucus emerges from the sea to soothe the agitation, explaining to the Argonauts that it was Zeus’s will that Heracles abandon the expedition and pursue his own path, a path that will lead him to immortality (1315–1325). The events that occasion the disappearance of Heracles are organized in an impeccable causal string that throws into relief Apollonius’s attitude towards Heracles and the Pindaric influence on it. At the outset, one notes the important role that divine powers have in setting in motion events that will shape the future of the expedition. Love motivates the disappearance of both Hylas and Heracles.119 Love, one may add, has the power to influence even a nymph associated with the virginal Artemis. Excess renders targets, both mortal and divine, the more susceptible: this is true of both the unnamed nymph and Heracles who cannot withstand the sting of Eros. Their stories mirror that of Medea, and reify the scene of Aphrodite and Ares on Jason’s cloak.120 In this epic, Aphrodite will always have the last word. Ultimately, everything is controlled by Zeus’s will. But this is typically inscrutable and frustrates mortal, and readerly, perception. Phineus is weary of revealing too much and so contributes to the mystery (2.311– 316). Unbeknownst to her the nymph is a pawn in Zeus’s plan for his son. From

 116 Hunter 1995: 37. This is a further echo to Pherecydes’s version that Heracles was made to leave the expedition because of his size; cf. Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 105n3; Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 225 on 1164–1171. 117 παπταίνων at line 1171 ironically looks back to πάπτηναν at 341. The echo suggests that lines 1153–1163 are also concerned with the issue of leadership and Heracles’s participation in the expedition. Heracles’s silence and isolation as he looks around him in 1170–1171 speaks volumes about his progressive marginalization. See Beye 1982: 93. 118 See Mori 2005. 119 The rowing competition is termed an ἔρις (1153). Hunter (1995: 36 with n. 104) associates ἔρις with ἔρως. 120 Kampakoglou 2018: 128–136.

130  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica his first appearance in the epic, Apollonius makes it clear enough that Heracles is on borrowed time (1.122–132). In order to participate in the Argonautic expedition, he puts his labors on hold. This, however, unsettles the tradition itself, which in Homer is identical with Zeus’s will.121 It is by means of these tasks that Heracles achieves undying fame, not through the Argonautic expedition in which, at best, he remains a secondary figure eclipsed by Jason. For his story not to be compromised, Heracles needs to be sent on his way. This appears through the utterance of Glaucus. In its spirit and structural function this speech imitates the discourse of Teiresias in Nemean 1. In both cases, a seer contextualizes an event, revealing part of Zeus’s plan. Teiresias offers a succinct description of Heracles’s career until he is deemed worthy of immortality.122 Glaucus does the same. And Apollonius makes sure to flesh this out in his own narrative. Heracles is needed to add prestige to the story. Once he performs this role, he can be put to one side. Without doing injustice to this great hero, by relegating him to a secondary position, Apollonius chooses a more artistic approach that occurs to him under Pindaric influence. He represents the Argonauts following in Heracles’s steps. Significantly, Heracles is always several steps ahead, and they cannot cover the distance. This distance translates in spatial terms Pindar’s ne plus ultra principle tied as a rule to Heracles.123 The victors Pindar celebrates can emulate, but never reach, let alone surpass Heracles. How could that be? Such a suggestion would mean that victors are open to honors the gods have not lavished upon them. In the Argonautica, Heracles is allowed to maintain his own presence and have his own narrative line. Fragmentary through this line may be, it is still quite complete, offering a narrative running parallel to that of Jason. One notes here the similarity to Pindar’s technique. As a foil to the successful athlete, Heracles has his own narrative line that does not compromise Pindar’s discourse. Rather, it runs parallel to the praise of the victor. Additionally, Pindar is not exhaustive in his treatment of the available mythological material. He selects those episodes from Heracles’s myth that bear some resemblance to the circumstances of the respective victor. Pindar’s technique is particularly helpful for Apollonius since it allows the Hellenistic poet to manage the demands of a secondary narrative line. A connection specifically to Pythian 4 can be established because a prophetic utterance is

 121 Edwards 1987: 135–136. 122 See also Chapter 5 pp. 191–192. 123 For the principle, see Hubbard 1985: 11n2. Very often Pindar visualizes this moral imperative through the use of Heracles’s myths (e.g. the Pillars of Heracles, Ol. 3.43–45; Nem. 3.20–21; his birth: Nem. 1.33–34): cf. Carne-Ross 1985: 71–77.

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the structural device that enables the inclusion of Heracles’s narrative in the poem. Glaucus does for Heracles in the Argonautica what Medea does for Euphemus in Pythian 4. Such techniques allow Apollonius’s epic to claim more forcefully the status of the Argonautic epic par excellence, combining material pertinent to different traditions. This is achieved either by alluding in passing to Heraclean tasks during the journey of the Argonauts or by investing episodes with an archetypal significance that brings them close to famous episodes in other mythological cycles. To be more specific, Teiresias in Nemean 1 makes clear that attainment of the immortal status is meted out to Heracles as a reward for his assistance to the gods in their fight against the Giants (67–69). Analogous subject matter is introduced in the first scene on Jason’s cloak and is repeated throughout various episodes by references to opponents being born by the earth (e.g. Amycus; the Spartoi; the snake guarding the fleece and that of the Hesperides). This pattern recalls Zeus’s defeat of similar opponents and is meant to complement aspects prominent in the Ptolemaic version of pharaonic ideology. During their stay at Cyzicus, Heracles claims center stage and leads the Argonauts to a victory against the Gēgeneis giants sent against him by Hera (1.996–997). Hera is generally on the Argonauts’ side. That she would interfere here in this way can be construed as a further sign that Heracles ought to be removed. Heracles’s defeat of the Giants reenacts in an allusive way the defeat of the Giants on the Phlegraean plain. In this regard, Apollonius includes this emblematic episode allowing him to conclude Heracles’s line. Heracles can leave the main story. Apollonius will refer to this symbolic moment again during the arming of Aeëtes just before Jason’s victory. The immortality Heracles attains contextualizes the immortal kleos that Jason as victor will also win. By treating Heracles thus, Apollonius finds a way to use him constructively for the purposes of his narrative. The epinician and Pindaric aspect of this use is obvious from the context in which Apollonius develops the aparkhai of the exit strategy. The rowing contest is significant from many aspects as a quasi-athletic event invested with the paraphernalia of athletic language. Although the Argonauts engaged in rowing for most of their journey, Apollonius draws attention to it twice in book 1. When they first depart from Iolcus, the Argo draws the attention of various internal audiences.124 These include the centaur Chiron and his wife holding baby Achilles in his hands; the nymphs of mount Pelion, and the Olympic gods. Apollonius very carefully distinguishes between the reactions of the latter two. The gods are distanced, their gaze described by the colorless λεύσσω; this  124 Kampakoglou 2018: 119–121. A different appreciation of the role of the gods in this scene is offered by Hitch 2012: 144–147.

132  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica is an indication of their general conduct throughout the epic.125 On the other hand, the nymphs are amazed and admire first the craft that has gone into the construction of the Argo and the toiling men as they row. The closeness of the nymphs’ gaze intimates their prominent role later in the narrative, especially in book 4. One also gets a sense of their attraction to manly performance. The Argonauts resemble athletes and in this capacity Apollonius can invest them with the sexual appeal Pindar usually attributes to young victors. Furthermore, their designation as ἠΐθεοι (“unmarried youths”) throws into relief their marriageability: marriage is often a correlative of athletic success in Pindaric discourse.126 The epinician implications of rowing are supported by the manner in which Apollonius refines this theme and uses it as a circuit to articulate Heracles’s exit from the main narrative. The competition between Heracles and the rest of the Argonauts is an ill-conceived idea, typical, nonetheless, of the poetics Heracles represents.127 Apollonius plays off two sets of poetics against each other: heroic isolationism and heroic collaboration. Heracles is the loner hero par excellence.128 He does not fit well in group endeavors, and when he participates in ones like this he causes disruption. Inasmuch as the Argonauts form a close-knit group, an ἀγών between its members can have detrimental repercussions. Such competitions ought to concern members of different groups such as Polydeuces and Amycus in book 2 or Jason and Aeëtes in book 3.129 The effect of this internal strife is symbolized through the breaking of Heracles’s oar. As with his size, Heracles’s strength is too much for the Argo to take. Said differently, the Argonautica cannot include the whole of Heracles: his material is so ample that such a decision would

 125 Pietsch 1999: 47–48 follows Σ A. R. 1.547–548 in attributing admiration to the gods although there is nothing explicit about it in the text. 126 Pind. Ol. 8.19; 9.93–94; Ol. 10.100–105; Pyth. 10.55–60; Nem. 3.19. Cf. Instone 1990; Scanlon 2002: 219–226; Fisher 2006; Athanassaki 2012: 180–191; Papakonstantinou 2012: 1658–1659. This motif appears also in epinician inscriptions: e.g. 12.3 Ebert (= Anth. Pal. 16.2.3) κάλλιστον μὲν ἰδεῖν, ἀθλεῖν δ’ οὐ χείρονα μορφῆς, on which see Scanlon 2002: 205. For the similar praise strategies adopted in inscriptions and odes, see Angeli Bernardini 2000. 127 There is no indication in the text as to who came up with the idea. Clauss (1993: 181) calls attention to the hubristic implications of the comparison with Poseidon’s horse at 1158 and the reference to the tomb of Aegaeon at 1165; both imply characteristics of Heracles’s unsuitability for the expedition. See also Green 2007: 228 on 1161–1171, who calls Heracles “a hulking monster.” 128 Feeney 1986: 61–62, “Heracles’ prodigious self-sufficiency has its reverse | side. He is a figure of fundamental isolation.” See also Hunter 1993: 26. 129 Hunter 1995: 36–37.

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demand an epic dedicated solely to him, a Heracleiad. The allusive and fragmentary (note the fragmentation of the oar) nature of Heracles’s narrative in the Argonautica is more in touch with the general direction of the epic’s narrative. In epinician terms, one establishes Heracles’s supremacy: try as they may the other Argonauts can never effectively match the son of Zeus. By being true to his epinician character, Heracles disrupts the unity that is necessary for the success of the expedition. This is further seen through the repercussions Heracles’s disappearance has on the crew. His friend and comrade, Telamon, openly accuses Jason of underhanded dealings: Jason is supposedly embarrassed of his own inferiority in comparison to Heracles, and tries to get him out of the way.130 Even in his absence Heracles compromises unity, and it takes authorial intervention in the person of Glaucus to restore harmony. Jason remains silent. But what excuse or argument could he use that would convince Telamon? Telamon like Idas is biased, and it is his dissatisfaction that he airs rather than a fair assessment of the situation.131 The issue of Heracles brings to the surface the difficulties underlying the coexistence of so many heroes. As Glaucus makes clear, the reasons for Heracles’s disappearance are wider than the Argonauts and relate to Zeus’s expectations for his son. Heracles needs to toil by himself in pursuit of immortality (1315–1320). In this way he will establish the epinician identity that Pindar uses to compare him with victors—in the Argonautica in particular Polydeuces and Jason. The implications that this decision has for Heracles’s career are prepared through the story of Hylas. The interplay of visibility and invisibility that permeates this episode sets the tone for all subsequent mentions of Heracles in the epic. Apollonius employs gaze as a means to delineate the limits between heroic and divine statuses. Some spectacles such as Apollo’s epiphany in book 2 are blinding to mortal viewers; others like Medea’s public appearance in book 3 are avoided as ominous. The comparison of Medea to Artemis in this passage, unlike that of Jason to Apollo in book 1, recalls and reinforces the boundaries between ontological categories. In accordance with this, Apollonius entertains another possibility, that of the deified hero that is beyond mortal or even heroic gaze. Thus Apollonius conveys the apotheosis of heroes such as Hylas and Heracles, neither of whom is accessible to the  130 A similar danger is thwarted at A. R. 2.145–153 through the narrator’s dismissal of the envious comment. See also below pp. 143–146. 131 Lawall 1966: 137. Nevertheless Apollonius’s primary interest is to demonstrate the kind of heroism Jason represents, which is opposite to Achilles’s excessive anger signaled through the use of μῆτις. See the detailed discussion of Mori 2005. See also Manakidou 1998: 250–252. If Achilles, and Aeëtes, are defined by their proclivity to anger, Jason is characterized by his selfrestraint and promotion of ὁμόνοια.

134  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica mortal gaze even in its most powerful version, that of Lynceus. The distance between deified hero and the Argonauts reflects and sustains the remoteness of most divine agents in the Argonautica. Hylas is sent to fetch water for Heracles’s dinner (1.1207–1210). He attracts the attention of a spring nymph, who is preparing to join her sisters in their nightly performance in honor of Artemis (1.1221–1227). The nymph snatches the young Hylas and carries him back to her aquatic abode (1.1234–1240). The fate of Hylas is invisible to the internal audience, and this reflects the ambiguity of Heracles’s visibility. Hylas dies by drowning, but he still joins the nymph as her consort (1.1324–1325). In this respect, he makes a transition from the mortal to the immortal condition, his fate paralleling that of Ganymede in book 3.132 Polyphemus can hear Hylas, but his mortal gaze cannot locate the now immortalized youth (1.1240–1241). This is the reason why he tries to rationalize Hylas’s absence by proposing to Heracles two different scenarios about his disappearance (1.1257–1260). Heracles makes a similar transition, traces of which are also found in the Argonautica. After he goes missing in book 1, Heracles reappears fleetingly at 4.1477–1480. The Argonauts can never really see him. Only Lynkeus can, and it is not accidental that, in first presenting him, Apollonius explains that his gaze defies the boundaries between earth and Hades (1.151–155). Although he is absent from books 2 and 3, Heracles is repeatedly mentioned as the Argonauts follow in his footsteps and imitate his tasks.133 Heracles is physically absent but is textually present throughout the poem. This textual presence correlates to Heracles’s undying fame, which translates at the end of the poem into the immortality bestowed upon him (cf. 1.1315–1320). In terms of images selected, Heracles’s imminent immortalization is conveyed in a twofold manner, by the association with the moonlight and his going farther than the possibilities of heroic sight. Both elements are also present in the Hylas episode.134 Heracles’s pursuing of Hylas is thus symbolic. Heracles is looking for a lover who is now immortal. In a way, he is seeking immortality itself, which will be achieved at the end of the epic after the completion of his tasks. In book 4, the Argonauts seek in vain their old comrade. For Heracles, immortality cannot be attained through his participation in the common cause of the Argonauts. It takes erōs to set Heracles back on the right

 132 For apotheosis via drowning, see Kampakoglou 2013b: 324–325. 133 See especially Feeney 1986. 134 Kampakoglou 2018: 133–134.

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track that, as Glaucus explains to the Argonauts, will lead to his immortalization.135 Like Hylas, Heracles also disappears; both disappearances are motivated by erotic passion. The importance that erōs holds in his story brings him closer to Jason, who achieves his goal thanks to the effect this divine power has upon Medea. The episode of Hylas is a miniature reflection of Heracles’s journey to immortality, at least as this is represented in the Argonautica, and, further, bears similarities to Jason’s appearances in books 1 and 3. The reaction of the nymph to Hylas’s appearance parallels that of Hypsipyle and Medea when they meet and fall in love with Jason. One sees then that Pindar’s conception of erōs and of its importance in epinician discourse translates into a structural theme of paramount importance for Apollonius’s narrative. Heracles’s absence correlates also to the issue of kleos. Despite his disappearance Heracles never leaves the mouth of the Argonauts or people whom the Argonauts encounter in their adventures.136 Apollonius shows the mechanics of kleos dissemination in action. The report of men contributes to the creation of a body of myths that offer metaphorical immortality to match the one offered to Heracles at the end of the poem. In most cases, where characters in the narrative mention Heracles, it is to contrast and compare him with either Polydeuces or Jason. In this function of Heracles as a “foil,” to use the epinician term, Apollonius follows the image of Heracles that Pindar consolidated through his poetry. In conclusion, it was mentioned above that the Argonautica cannot offer a full-scale treatment of Heracles because that would compromise the polyphonic character of the epic. Faced with the problem of incorporating Heracles effectively into his epic, Apollonius resorts to the Pindaric norm. Pindar does not include Heracles solely in the mythological parts of his song. He also references Heracles in short transitional passages. Apollonius’s technique is not far removed from the Pindaric one. By such means Apollonius incorporates parts of the traditions he did not wish to omit and employs Heracles as a device to shed light on his own poetic strategy.

The Dioscuri If Heracles represents the possibility of immortality awaiting a mortal hero after a life of toil and endurance,137 Jason represents that mortal variant of it: Jason,

 135 Feeney 1986: 63. 136 Feeney 1986: 56–57. 137 See, in particular, Finkelberg 1995.

136  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica and any Argonaut for that matter, can only follow in Heracles’s steps, making do with tokens of immortality (e.g. the fleece, fame), but without attaining proper immortality. Nonetheless, between the two states that these heroes represent, there lies a middle one associated with the Dioscuri.138 Like Heracles the Dioscuri achieve immortality thanks to their victories against agents of chaos and by virtue of their benefactions to humanity. Unlike Heracles, though, they do not endanger the success of the common enterprise. The considerations that occasioned the use of Heracles’s epinician profile in the Argonautica operate for the Dioscuri as well, and in their case it is even more obvious that their representation mirrors aspects of Ptolemaic athletic ideology.139 As a parallel to the main hero-athlete, and on account of their divine affiliations, they too set the limit against which Jason’s success will be measured. Pindar references only a small segment of the traditions concerning the Dioscuri. Nemean 10 focuses on the demise of the mortal brother, Castor, after the fatal encounter between the Dioscuri and their cousins, the Apharetiadae. The reason for this conflict has been reported variously. Either the Dioscuri quarreled with their cousins over the Leucippides140 or they stole the cattle of the Apharetiadae.141 In some other versions the Dioscuri failed to give the Apharetiadae their fair share of the cattle that both pairs of brothers had jointly stolen.142 In the latter case, the Dioscuri outwit the Apharetiaedae in a contest of eating prowess: the first to devour a whole ox would get the whole herd of cattle. The divine Polydeuces proves successful. The skirmish between the two pairs of cousins engages Zeus’s attention who punishes the Apharetiadae. Even so, the mortal Castor is fatally wounded. In a moment of utmost pathos, Polydeuces requests from his father Zeus that he be allowed to share Castor’s fate. The two brothers will share eternity together alternating between Hades and Olympus.

 138 The point is nicely made by Mackie 2003: 99 “While some heroes and heroines, like Herakles and Ino, may actually win true immortality and become gods, others, like Kastor and Polydeukes, pattern the athlete’s trajectory in the sense that they occupy a plane halfway between mortality and immortality.” 139 For the Ptolemaic associations of the Dioscuri, see Acosta-Hughes 2012. 140 Theoc. 22.137–140 (with Sens 1997: 197–198); Lycophron, Alex. 544–549 (with Hornblower 2015 ad loc.). In the Cypria the Leucippides were probably the wives of the Dioscuri (fr. 15 West [= Apollodorus 3.16.1]); cf. M.L. West 2013: 87. For the ritual background of the union, see Calame 1977: vol. 1, 328–332. 141 Cypria Arg. 3 West (with M.L. West 2013: 94); Pind. Pyth. 10.60. 142 Apollodorus 3.11.2 probably deriving from Pherecydes of Athens. Cf. Grant 1967: 97–98.

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The major aspect of this myth, as Jacqueline Duchemin (1955: 180–182) has perceptively shown, is the interplay between mortality and immortality.143 The sacrifice of the immortal Polydeuces reflects positively on the mortal brother, whose status is such as to enjoy immortality along with his brother. Castor attains this privileged treatment on account of his services to his brother, who as a god has the right to grant such a reward to any mortal. Several aspects of the myth of the Dioscuri agree with elements in Heracles’s traditional mythology. The juxtaposition of immortality and mortality in the form of a set of twins concerns Heracles as well: Nemean 1 demonstrates the reaction of the two brothers, Heracles and Iphicles, to the snakes sent by Hera. The focus is, however, different here. Iphicles sets the background against which Heracles’s precocity shines brighter. This is an important element that helps us understand the different treatment of the Dioscuri and Heracles by Apollonius.144 Polydeuces and Castor personify cooperative ethics, whereas Heracles, competitive ones. In this light, it is no accident that the Dioscuri can participate in the expedition until the end. The Dioscuri exhibit further similarities to Heracles: they demonstrate a similar voracious appetite and rapacity. Eating contests are typical of Heracles as are abductions of women. The only other early achievement of the Dioscuri is their participation in the Argonautic expedition. Pindar references this, but hardly makes anything of it. With the notable exception of the Amycus episode, this is also true of Apollonius. Outside Nemean 10, the Dioscuri do not figure prominently in Pindaric poetry. Olympian 3 is associated with the theoxenia of the Dioscuri—another element they have in common with Heracles—but the myth of the song deals with Heracles, rather than with them.145 Pythian 2 and Isthmian 1 acknowledge the supreme skill of Castor as a charioteer.146 Interestingly Pindar does not refer to Polydeuces in such a way as to extol his boxing skills. Both Dioscuri were said to have expressed their athletic skills in the aftermath of the Argonautic expedition at the funeral games in honor of Pelias. The games is the topic of an extremely lacunose fragment attributed to Ibycus (PMGF S176). Speculations concerning the genre of the original poem point towards an early specimen of epinician poetry.147 Indeed, it seems that the epinician credentials of the Dioscuri antedate  143 Cf. Young 1993. 144 Feeney 1986: 58–59, 65. 145 Krummen 2014: 255–278; Catenacci 2013: 415–416. 146 Isthm. 1.16–17. Castor’s prominence in chariot-racing enables Pindar to call Pythian 2 the Kastoreion ode (69). 147 Cavallini 1997: 121–122; Wilkinson 2013: 125–129. Stesichorus is also credited with a poem about the funeral games for Pelias (frr. 1–4 Finglass); cf Davies and Finglass 2014: 209–222.

138  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica Pindar and were adequately developed before the Theban poet came to compose victory songs. Apollonius offers the opposite picture to that of Pindar. Castor’s prowess in chariot-driving is nowhere mentioned. Instead, the poet is more interested in Polydeuces. It is understandable that chariots would hardly suit the context of the Argonautic expedition, making it impossible for Apollonius to acknowledge this talent of Castor. On the other hand, Apollonius does focus on Polydeuces and his duel with Amycus. The only other extensive treatment of this episode is Theocritus 22.148 Assuming the format of a Homeric hymn addressed to the Dioscuri, this idyll comprises two distinct units: the first focuses on Polydeuces, narrating the episode with Amycus, while the second, on Castor and the fight with the Apharetiadae. The amount of detail that Apollonius devotes to the preparation for and the actual fight makes it unlikely that this scene is Pindaric either in its conceptualization or execution. The major intertext, as Virginia Knight (1995: 62–70) has shown, is the boxing match of the disguised Odysseus with the beggar Irus (Odyssey 18.1–110). In addition to the lexical and thematic correspondences between the two scenes, one can also point towards structural analogies that help put the Hellenistic episode in perspective, suggesting Pindaric points of influence.149 The episode of Irus is part of a sequence of episodes that take place on Ithaca and prepare for the eventual revelation of Odysseus’s true identity and success over the suitors. Although the fight is occasioned by Irus’s jealousy, the symbolism of the episode for the major plot is significant. These implications become clear when one considers that Irus functions as the champion, and thus representative, of the suitors. Thus the fight prefigures the ultimate confrontation between Odysseus and the suitors. Athena once again stands by Odysseus’s side strengthening the importance of the scene. She fills in Odysseus’s limbs making him appear handsome and youthful. The suitors are amazed at the beggar’s athletic physique, predict his victory over their champion, but are still unable to discern Odysseus’s true heroic station (66–71). The Odyssey is proto-epinician in its conception of the means whereby Odysseus reveals his true nature, his φυά, to the internal audience. Such revelations always happen in competitive contexts with a clear athletic coloring.150 Odysseus competes against the Phaeacian youths and surpasses all of them in discus

 148 For the possible connection between the two versions, see Köhnken 1965; Levin 1971a: 131– 149; Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 122–123, 133–141; Sens 1997: 24–36. 149 Hunter 1991: 88–89 points out the Pindaric coloring in the representation of Polydeuces as a victorious athlete. 150 Steiner 2010: 15–16.

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throwing; in Ithaca he defeats the “champion” of the suitors, Irus; finally, the killing of the suitors is prefaced by a task that entails competing against the suitors for the hand of Penelope. It was Pindar, as far as we can tell, that captured this aspect of epic discourse and formulated it in such strong terms to make it typical of the epinician genre. True nature comes to light after a test, which refers in this context to athletic competitions. Apollonius seems to look back to both Homer and Pindar. The duel of Polydeuces with Amycus is part of a wider sequence that permeates and articulates the Argonautica. The formal analogies between this episode and the framing epic narrative comes to the surface in Amycus’s bravado in lines 17–18: εἰ δ’ αὖ ἀπηλεγέοντες ἐμὰς πατέοιτε θέμιστας, ἦ κέν τις στυγερῶς κρατερὴ ἐπιέψετ’ ἀνάγκη. But if you step upon my laws without any concern, Then some harsh necessity shall pursue you to your sorrow.

Even if the Argonauts were disposed to disregard Amycus’s laws, they would find themselves restrained by an ineluctable necessity (κρατερή … ἀνάγκη). In other words, the Argonauts have no choice but to fight even though this is not their first inclination. The use of ἀνάγκη by Amycus strengthens the set of analogies between the King of the Bebryces and both Pelias and Aeëtes. Indeed, ἀνάγκη is used elsewhere in the Argonautica to describe the conditions that bind Jason to carry out the Argonautic expedition.151 Consequently, the victory of Polydecues like that of Heracles prefigures the success of Jason in book 3.152 Apollonius combines the symbolism of this episode with an awareness of the potential that athletic victories had for political, and in particular Ptolemaic, exploitation. In this regard as well as in the juxtaposition of Polydeuces with both Heracles and Jason, Apollonius develops Pindaric techniques. When the Argonauts land on the land of the Bebryces, Amycus refuses to let them go before boxing with the best of them. Amycus is a boorish character whose inhospitable inclinations put him in the same group as other notoriously inhospitable kings. The genealogical note that prefaces the episode (2.2–4) looks forward to the comparison of Aeëtes with Poseidon in book 3, but also aligns

 151 A.R. 3.427–431 (Jason’s address to Aeëtes; cf. Campbell 1994: 357 ad loc.); 3.985–989 (Jason’s appeal to Medea). In book 4, this lexical item underlines the inescapable character of their adventures in sea because of the murder of Apsyrtus (440, 555, 1390). 152 Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 249 on lines 1–7.

140  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica Amycus with other inhospitable sons of Poseidon, specifically Pelias in Pythian 4 and Polyphemus in Odyssey 9.153 The violation of hospitality etiquette is communicated not only by the narrator’s explicit comment on the unlawfulness of Amycus’s conduct (2.5),154 but also by the reference to the Lemnian episode at line 32. As he is preparing for the encounter, Polydeuces sets aside the mantle (30–31, φάρος λεπταλέον) that one of the Lemnian women gave him as a gift of hospitality (31, ξεινῆιον). The intricacy of the fabric contrasts with Amycus’s crude garment. More importantly, the friendly reception implied by ξεινῆιον contrasts violently with the present treatment of the Argonauts by Amycus.155 Punishing such kings is typical of tales about Heracles, originating, quite likely, in the theoxenic structure underlying them.156 By punishing such kings, Heracles acts in his acculturative capacity, suggesting hospitality as a defining trait of Hellenism. Theocritus’s version preserves, in all probability, the original connection of Amycus with a spring:157 according to Theocritus 22, Amycus prevents the Dioscuri from having access to water (37–134). Seen in this light, Amycus’s refusal to allow the Argonauts to quench their thirst is not only hostile but foreign to any notion of humanity. Access to water springs is an element crucial to the civilizing aspect of the Argonautic expedition and of Heracles’s peregrinations. In the Cyzicus episode, the benefactions of the Mother of Gods involve the creation of a spring; the manifestation of divinity is marked in the landscape by a benefaction to the local populace. In the Libyan desert the Argonauts are saved by Heracles through the spring he had created. The fight with Amycus restores access to water seen as typical of benevolent divinities and heroes.158 The description of Amycus suggests links to a theme dominant throughout this epic: Olympic god or hero connected to such a god defeating a chthonian agent of chaos.159 Heracles defeats the Gēgeneis at Cyzicus and the snake guard-

 153 Sens 1997: 112. 154 Cf. Theoc. 22.54–74. 155 By contrast, Theocritus presents Polydeuces and Amycus setting a prize for their competition (70, 74; ἆθλον). See Cuypers 1997: 7, 62–64 on 30–34. 156 Cf. Pind. fr. 140a.56 Sn.-M.; Nem. 10.34. 157 Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 133–134. 158 In Callimachus’s Hymns 1 and 4 the births of Zeus and Apollo lead to the creation of Arcadian rivers and the rising of Inopos respectively. 159 Lawall 1966: 133n21; Fränkel 1968: 157–158 on 37–42; Levin 1971a: 136–138; A.R. Rose 1984: 123–128; Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 253 on 35–45; Hunter 1995: 28–29; DeForest 1994: 72–73; Cuypers 1997: 7, 71–76 on 38–45; Green 2007: 233 on 39–40.

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ing the apples of the Hesperides. The latter is ambiguous. But the ambiguity concerns the point of view one adopts.160 It is natural that the Hesperides will bemoan the loss of their guardian; but Heracles needed to gain access to the garden, and the only way for him to do so was by disposing of the snake.161 Through Medea’s magic Jason will also “defeat” a snake that guards the fleece for Aeëtes. Amycus falls in the same category as these serpentine monsters. Apollonius prefaces the fight with a description of the two opponents’ stature, their φυά. In an athletic context, this term reverberates with strong Pindaric echoes. Through the conduct of the two contestants their true character comes to light, but this character has far-reaching implications as it suggests connections with their ancestors or cosmic role models. Specifically, Amycus is said to resemble either Typhon (38) or any other monstrous offspring Gaia brought forth during her anger with Zeus (39).162 The fight assumes cosmic dimensions and resembles the archetypal fight of Zeus against Typhon. If Amycus resembles or imitates Typhon, Polydeuces performs a role similar to that of Zeus. Ironically, though, Apollonius undermines the divine credentials of Polydeuces by alluding to his dual fatherhood through the appellation Τυνδαρίδης (“son of Tyndareos”).163 This is a calculated move that lends strength to the Pindaric coloring of φυά. Apollonius engages the reader in a textual game: Polydeuces is reported to be the son of Tyndareos; his true parent will be revealed through his victory. The Pindaric notion of innate excellence needs to be activated in order for the reader to appreciate the various levels of meaning in this scene.

 160 Levin 1971b: 27–28; Feeney 1986: 64; Stephens 2003: 187. As these scholars point out, despite his brutish appearance in this scene Heracles actually saves his friends. Mori 2008: 50–51 incorporates the killing of Ladon into Zeus’s justice and sees it as a kind of “cosmic reparation” for the disappearance of Hylas. 161 The Hesperides note Heracles’s appearance, making a special note of his lion hide. Theocritus (22. 51–52) depicts Amycus wearing a lion hide. The similarity with Heracles conveys Amycus’s fearsomeness but also implies Heracles’s potential destructiveness. Cf. Lawall 1966: 133; Hunter 1996: 61–63. Ultimately, the defeat of Ladon is a parallel for Jason’s victory over the Colchian γηγενεῖς. The lamentations of the Hesperides suggest the ambiguous outcome of Jason’s success. 162 Theocritus, on the other hand, compares Amycus with Tityos (94); see Sens 1997: 143 ad loc.; Cuypers 1997: 73–74. Apollonius represents Apollo defeating Tityos on Jason’s cloak (1.759–62). Amycus’s gigantic associations endow the episode with unmistakable Apollonian intimations; see Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 135. 163 Matteo 2007: 46 on 30.

142  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica Polydeuces is also compared to a star: such comparisons are typical of Iliadic heroes and of Jason in general.164 They invest the mortal hero with a divine brilliance that expresses his divine potential.165 At the same time, this simile is an introduction to the issue of the apotheosis of the Dioscuri who will eventually become stars. Very soon this poetic convention will become a reality as the Dioscuri shall be honored in astral form. Apollonius concludes the description with an emphatic “thus did the son of Zeus look”.166 Only Heracles (1.1188) and Dionysus (2.905; 4.1134) are addressed as such, and this designation is a foreshadowing of Polydeuces’s attaining a status similar to both of them. One should also note that Διὸς υἱός at line 43 counterpoises Τυνδαρίδης at 41.167 For all intents and purposes Apollonius treats Polydeuces like Jason and subjects him to the same treatment as if Polydeuces were an ordinary mortal victor, and not the son of Zeus. An important element of the epinician discourse that Apollonius associates with Polydeuces concerns above all his double comparison to Heracles. In lines 145–153, Apollonius reports the comments of an unnamed speaker about Polydeuces’s victory. ἥρωες· καὶ δή τις ἔπος μετὰ τοῖσιν ἔειπεν· “Φράζεσθ’ ὅττι κεν ᾗσιν ἀναλκείῃσιν ἔρεξαν, εἴ πως Ἡρακλῆα θεὸς καὶ δεῦρο κόμισσεν. ἤτοι μὲν γὰρ ἐγὼ κείνου παρεόντος ἔολπα οὐδ’ ἂν πυγμαχίῃ κρινθήμεναι· ἀλλ’ ὅτε θεσμούς ἤλυθεν ἐξερέων, αὐτοῖς ἄφαρ οἷς ἀγόρευεν θεσμοῖσιν ῥοπάλῳ μιν ἀγηνορίης λελαθέσθαι. ναὶ μὲν ἀκήδεστον γαίῃ ἔνι τόνγε λιπόντες πόντον ἐπέπλωμεν, μάλα δ’ ἡμέων αὐτὸς ἕκαστος εἴσεται οὐλομένην ἄτην ἀπάνευθεν ἐόντος.” Ὧς ἄρ’ ἔφη· τὰ δὲ πάντα Διὸς βουλῇσι τέτυκτο.

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Heroes; and one among them said the following words “Imagine what they would have done in their cowardice if somehow a god had brought Heracles here. For I am convinced that, if he had been present, things would not have been judged by a boxing contest; but when [Amycus] came to announce his customs, he would have forgotten

 164 Cuypers 1997: 74–76; Matteo 2007: 53 on 40–42. 165 Hunter 1991: 88–89. 166 On which see Cuypers 1997: 79. Polydeuces combines sexual appeal (44) with feral strength (44–45) in the manner of most epic and Pindaric heroes. 167 Apollonius’s technique finds interesting parallels in Theocritus’s description of the episode. See Sens 1997: 143 on 95–97.

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his courage and the very laws he was speaking of at the sight of [Heracles’s] club. Indeed, we sail the seas while we left him on the land with no thought. Every single one of us will come to know deadly ruin during his absence.” So he said. But everything had happened according to Zeus’s wishes.

The speaker compares and contrasts two ways of handling the incident with Amycus—that of Polydeuces and that of Heracles. According to this point of view, Heracles would not have gone to all this trouble. Instead he would have dispatched Amycus forthwith with his club. There are two levels of signification to this speech: one epic and one epinician. Such tis-speeches, as they are usually called, are typical of epic discourse. Normally, they give us a glimpse into what the secondary, unnamed characters think.168 Such opinions are important inasmuch as they often shape the compass of the protagonist. On the other hand, the comparison of Polydeuces with Heracles can be seen as distorting the manner in which a character trained in epinician poetry, in its Pindaric version, would react to the news of Polydeuces’s victory. The instinctive reaction would be to compare the victor with Heracles, and we do know that such was the form of the earliest epinician specimen, Archilochus’s hymn to Heracles (cf. Epharmostus’s friends in Olympian 9). However, the anonymous speaker, albeit Polydeuces’s comrade, is not willing to praise Polydeuces’s victory through his evocation of Heracles. It is a cliché of early Greek poetry that one cannot avoid envious remarks whether one does good or evil.169 In this particular case, the context recalls the slander that Pindar usually tries to ward off with his victory songs. Pindar constantly reminds both his victor and his community of the dangers of envy. The epinician poet needs to negotiate the reintroduction of the victorious athlete into the community and the restoration of his links with them on an equal footing. These lines present the difficulty that faces Polydeuces. As it were, Polydeuces isolates himself in order to face Amycus. Now he needs to be integrated into the group, and Apollonius focuses on the difficulties of this transition. For Apollonius to apply epinician discourse to Jason is natural in view of his leadership. It is also expected for Heracles in light of his strong epinician credentials. But as the case of Heracles also brings home to the reader, epinician language has the potential to unsettle the group dynamics of an already unstable

 168 de Jong 1987. See also Matteo 2007: 121–122 on 144. 169 Mimnermus fr. 7 W2 = Theognis I. 795–798.

144  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica group of heroes.170 The anonymity of the speaker undermines the validity of the comment. Pindar repeatedly stresses that the victor soars up high thanks to the praise he receives from the poet, whereas slanderers remain anonymous, close to the ground, and in the dark.171 Apollonius combines the epic device of tisspeeches with this aspect of Pindar epinician ideology. Polydeuces’s credentials have already been established. He resembles a shining star, whereas his detractor is doomed to the anonymity of his Pindaric counterpart. The situation Apollonius describes comes very close to the aftermath of Achilles’s death. The major challenge facing the Greeks after the death of Achilles was to decide who was the best of the Achaeans so as to bestow upon him Achilles’s divine armor. This causes the feud between Odysseus and Ajax and leads eventually to the latter’s suicide. In the challenge he issues to them, Amycus seeks to establish who is the best of the Argonauts (15): τῶ καί μοι τὸν ἄριστον ἀποκριδὸν οἶον ὁμίλου. No one seems to mind or to dispute Polydeuces’s volunteering to face Amycus’s challenge. But the unnamed comment suggests otherwise. Throughout the epic the plural ἄριστοι can be used to refer to the Argonauts as a group (1.231; 1.548; 4.1306). In the singular, however, ἄριστος refers to group dynamics and the heated issue of leadership (1.338; 1.1285): both uses from book 1 point to a strong correlation between being ἄριστος and Heracles.172 In a way, then, the episode of Amycus brings to the surface once more the issue of the Argonauts’ heroic credentials, risking another feud inside the group. Pindar’s Nemean 8 offers a pertinent parallel to the scene in Apollonius in this regard: ἐχθρὰ δ’ ἄρα πάρφασις ἦν καὶ πάλαι, αἱμύλων μύθων ὁμόφοιτος, δολοφραδής, κακοποιὸν ὄνειδος· ἃ τὸ μὲν λαμπρὸν βιᾶται, τῶν δ’ ἀφάντων κῦδος ἀντείνει σαθρόν. εἴη μή ποτέ μοι τοιοῦτον ἦθος,

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 170 As Cuypers (1997: 169 on 144–153) notes, in the Odyssey an analogous comment (18.72–74) is attributed to one of the suitors. The secrecy under which they pass this comment is an indication of their jealousy. Hurst 1967: 68 associates this anonymous comment with Idas’s impious remarks against Zeus at 1.466–71. Thus, the narrator’s remark parallels Orpheus’s song in praise of Zeus’s rule. 171 The idea is expressed most clearly at Pyth. 1.84 and Nem. 4.37–40. Pindar consistently associates darkness (σκότος, Nem. 7.12–13) and proximity to the ground (χαμαί, Nem. 9.6–7; cf. Pyth. 11.30) with silence and lack of kleos. This situation concerns the man who lacks the courage to expose himself to danger (e.g. Ol. 1.83) but also slanderers. At Nem. 3.41 darkness is associated with the one who lacks inherent excellence. 172 Cuypers 1997: 47 on 15–16.

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εῦ πάτερ, ἀλλὰ κελεύθοις ἁπλόαις ζωᾶς ἐφαπτοίμαν, θανὼν ὡς παισὶ κλέος μὴ τὸ δύσφαμον προσάψω.

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Deceitful speaking was there, then, also in the past, companion of wily words, with treacherous thoughts, mischievous disgrace. It violates bright renown, but upholds the unsound fame of the obscure ones. Father Zeus, may my character be never such, but may I follow the simple paths of life so that, when I die, I might not attach shameful renown to my children.

These lines come right after the description of the Greeks’ judgment about Achilles’s weapons and Ajax’s suicide (21–32). Pindar uses Ajax’s myth to explain the dangers that slander poses for the victorious athlete and support his role in the circuit of bestowing undying fame on the victor. There are two elements that bring these lines close to Apollonius’s episode. At line 33, Pindar talks of the brilliance of the victor, which is an attribute Apollonius also assigns to Polydeuces. This is under attack by the “man not seen” (34), an apt description of the anonymous speaker in Apollonius. Additionally, Pindar invokes Zeus in order to contrast the role of the slanderer with that of his own. Pindar opts for a different kind of ethics. He wishes to bequeath kleos to his children, doing right by praiseworthy men. The subsequent priamel in lines 37–39, which also includes the rejection of gold, implies that δύσφαμον (“ill-famed”, 36) alludes to the charge of bribery leveled against Odysseus (perhaps alluded to at line 26). Also the poet’s rejection of gold at 37 contrasts with Achilles’s golden weapons at 27. Ultimately, Ajax is better off: through the services of Pindar he has attained an undying fame which surpasses weapons wrought of gold, a metal with divine associations, nonetheless. Apollonius does not include a priamel, but like Pindar states his opinion on the matter and also includes a reference to Zeus, strengthening the connection between the two passages. Apollonius remarks at line 154 “that so [the unnamed man] spoke; but everything happened according to the will of Zeus.”173 This concerns not only Heracles’s independent career, but also the way in which the Argonauts dealt with Amycus. Acting in the manner of the Pindaric poet, Apollonius offsets the danger the slanderous comment poses and so takes control of his narrative. By doing so, Apollonius tunes in to another Pindaric modality—that of

 173 Cuypers 1997: 173 and Matteo 2007: 125–126 ad loc.

146  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica the parallelism between the poet and the victorious athlete. Apollonius restores order in the manner of Polydeuces. With regard to the actual point of the remark, this illustrates brilliantly the different kinds of heroism represented by Heracles and the rest of the Argonauts. Heracles is governed by emotion; prone to violent reactions, he is not interested in the process whereby he disposes of his opponents. Polydeuces, on the other hand, is involved in a more civilized process. Boxing is seen as a socially sanctioned form of violence that helps people avoid actual large-scale clashes.174 In this regard, the defeat of Amycus is the victory of cultured life over natural violence. Despite the formal analogy between Heracles and Polydeuces, the role of Heracles as foil is ambiguous. Such ambiguities are typical of Pindar’s discourse particularly in Olympian 1, Pythian 2, and 4. Heracles resembles Polydeuces in his role as restorer of order, but his means are often violent so much so that one senses an echo of Pindar’s famous nomos fragment (fr. 169a Sn.-M.). Heracles’s violent measures bring him close to the unfettered brutality of Amycus. Consequently, Polydeuces is more in tune with the diplomatic and peaceful strategy of Jason than Heracles would be. As in the Odyssey, Odysseus’s defeat of Irus is eventually followed by Odysseus’s defeat of the suitors with the help of his son Telemachus and his trusted slaves. Polydeuces’s defeat of Amycus leads to a confrontation between the Bebryces, who wish to avenge their dead king, and the Argonauts. Polydeuces’s victory is reenacted by the victory of the Argonauts. The catalogue-like description of the battle allows Apollonius to highlight the contribution of individual Argonauts and to conclude this section of the narrative with Jason, who is mentioned last exactly as in the major catalogue of book 1. A proper celebration follows Polydeuces’s victory, as in book 3 for Jason. Two aspects of the festivities present particular interest. Apollonius notes that during the celebrations the Argonauts wreath themselves with crowns of laurel which they found in the neighboring beach (159–160). Laurels are sacred to Apollo, and one could view their mention in this context—there is no other mention of this tree in the Argonautica—as a further link between the events on the mortal plane and Apollo.175 Book 2 contains an epiphany of Apollo on his way to the Hyperboreans (2.674–680). The Argonauts welcome this divine manifestation with the

 174 Nonetheless such a clash does follow the death of Amycus when the Bebryces attack Polydeuces and the rest of the Argonauts (2.98–141). The fault lies with the Bebryces who are the first to turn against Polydeuces. 175 Matteo 2007: 128 ad loc. For Amycus’s connection with the laurel, see Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 268 note 160 on page 184.

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erection of an altar and the prototypical celebration of the paean to the accompaniment of Orpheus’s singing and playing (2.680–719).176 Wreaths of laurel are typical of the Pythian Games. Boxing, the event in which Polydeuces was victorious, was also part of the program. However, the text does not specify who is crowned. The generic plural makes it more likely that it is the Argonauts, who make up the chorus celebrating Polydeuces, that are wreathed. One gets the impression that the fame of the celebration is shared equally among the members of the crew. Polydeuces won this victory in the name of the Argonauts, and as such all of them have a reason to celebrate—a reminder of the communal character that heroic excellence very often assumes in this epic. The possibility of a Pythian undertone is rendered stronger through an allusion to a celebrated Pindaric passage from the opening of Pythian 1. The activity in which the jubilant Argonauts engage is described in typical epic fashion as μολπή (163, μελπομένοις). In this context the term combines two aspects: dancing and singing (cf. LSJ9 s.v.).177 The Argonauts, as the victor’s peers, form a performing chorus,178 a tendency documented by Pindar in several odes, particularly in Olympian 9 (4) and Isthmian 8 (1–3). The celebration is headed by Orpheus who functions as the equivalent of the epinician poet. Orpheus is associated with the performance of the paean after Apollo’s epiphany on the island of Thynias. The etymological derivation of the sacred ἰή interjection from the Argonauts’ cries implies that this is the first ever such performance and that Orpheus is the founder of the genre.179 In the lines under examination Apollonius traces the early stages of the epinician genre to the role of Orpheus in such a celebration.180 The association of paean and victory song is telling. Both genres convey praise (kleos), but in a different modality: a paean celebrates a god (Apollo), whereas a victory song, a mortal who through his victory approximates the divine condition. Apollonius is aware of this irony and takes advantage of it in the celebration of Polydeuces. As he notes at 163 “they celebrated the son of Zeus from Therapne”

 176 The scholiast identifies the Argonauts’ song with an epinician addressed to Apollo (Σ 162– 163): ᾖδον δὲ ἐπινίκιον τῷ Ἀπόλλωνι. For the addressee, see n. 182 below. For the narratological significance of this epiphany, see Albis 1996: 111–112. 177 Cuypers 1997: 178. Massimilla 2017 offers a survey of the term in Hellenistic poetry. For the ambiguities in the exact meaning of μέλπομαι in Homer, see Rengakos 1994: 115–116. 178 For the Argonauts as chorus see Nishimura-Jensen 2009. 179 Hunter 1996: 144. 180 Fränkel 1968: 164; Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 265 on 159–163; Hunter 1996: 142–143. Contra Cuypers 1997: 178–179.

148  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica (κλεῖον δὲ Θεραπναῖον Διὸς υἷα). This renders the content of a prototypical epinician. Going back to the concept of documentary information that Paola Angeli Bernardini has associated with early forms of epinician discourse, one establishes that the Argonauts’ song addresses Polydeuces’s parentage, and consequently innate excellence, as well as his provenance from Therapne. The epic verb κλείω defines the aim of the performance as imparting kleos.181 However, the genre identity of the reported song is blurred in view of Polydeuces’s strong divine associations. One can take “they celebrated the son of Zeus from Therapne” as the proclamation of the herald at the Panhellenic games. But one can equally take it as “they celebrated him in his capacity as the son of Zeus honored at Therapne.” It is typical of hymns that they focus on the parentage of the celebrated god and his cult center; the main myth in a hymn would reference the major event in which the god’s divine power manifested itself, in this case Polydeuces’s victory over Amycus.182 All in all, the song looks more and more like a hymn. Apollonius could experiment with combining genres. But this is also what Pindar did by combining hymns and victory songs or blurring the lines between the two genres.183 Picking up such elements, Apollonius seems to derive epinician songs from divine hymns in a evolutionary model: every victor reenacts the victory of the god associated with the games. If one is meant to think of the Pythian Games here, Polydeuces imitates Apollo and, through him, Zeus.184 The legendary status of the Argonauts allows Apollonius to speculate on literary history by incorporating various generic discourses in the matrix of his epic. Although strong punctuation separates μελπομένοις from the rest of the line at 163, the participle completes the details of this epinician celebration by referencing the actualities of the performance. As William Mullen (1982: 12–14) has explained, in cases such as these one can assume that Orpheus is either the ἐξάρχων leading the group of revelers or sitting in the middle as they perform around him. Both Duchemin (1955: 80–88) and Mullen (1982: 58–65) have further raised the possibility that the dancing maneuvers of the epinician chorus reenact  181 Cuypers 1997: 178 on 163. 182 The identification of Θεραπναῖον Διὸς υἷα (163) has been questioned on the basis of an ancient comment, which identifies him with Apollo, rather than with Polydeuces (Σ 162–163). Despite the analogies between the two sons of Zeus already mentioned in the course of the discussion, there is no reason to doubt that Apollonius refers to Polydeuces here. See Mooney 1912: 163–164; Fränkel 1968: 164–165; Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 268n163 on page 184; Cuypers 1997: 178 with n. 279; Green 2007: 236 ad loc.; Matteo 2007: 131 ad loc. 183 Burton 1962: 92. For hymns and epinician poetry, see Maslov 2015: 286–294. 184 I point out here the similarity with Jason fully treated in Chapter 9 below. Jason also parallels Apollo and through him Zeus. Note in particular the presence of both gods on Jason’s cloak.

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the victory of the athlete over his opponent. This would be particularly apposite in this context: the Apollonian undertones of the scene as well as Polydeuces’s divine fatherhood invest the celebration with religious overtones that reaffirm through Polydeuces the rule of Zeus. The juxtaposition of Zeus’s rule and athletic victory as expression of it is characteristic of Pindar’s Pythian 1. Apollonius’s description of the celebrations reflects the cosmic implications of athletic victory as suggested in that ode. Apollonius calls attention to the unity of music and performance (161–162): “keeping the measure, they sung the hymn in harmony with (συνοίμιον) Orpheus’s lyre” (Ὀρφείῃ φόρμιγγι συνοίμιον ὕμνον ἄειδον | ἐμμελέως). The word ὕμνος Apollonius uses to describe the song performed by the Argonauts oscillates ambiguously between the meaning “song,” common in poetic idiom, and the more specific use “hymn.” συνοίμιον is a hapax legomenon. The noun οἴμη, on which συνοίμιον is built, is commonly used in epic discourse to describe the song that a bard performs. Taken adverbially in this line, συνοίμιον implies that the Argonauts and Orpheus follow the same route in their praise of Polydeuces, focusing on his most recent kleos, out of the many that tradition had preserved or was in the process of preserving. If, on the other hand, one takes συνοίμιον as an adjective modifying ὕμνον the meaning is slightly altered. According to the Suda (1651), the word means “proem” (προοίμιον). Combined with ὕμνος, this looks like an allusion to the Homeric hymns, which we know that Thucydides (3.104) referred to as proems, performed before the actual epic narrative. The corpus of Homeric hymns preserves cases of such poems addressed to the Dioscuri. The commonalities between Theocritus 22 and Apollonius in their depiction of the Dioscuri could reflect such a poem. However, the former interpretation is the one favored by the Etymologicum Magnum (p. 735, 44–45) and the ancient scholiast (Σ 161) and seems the more plausible. The harmonious cooperation of the singing dancers and their ἐξάρχων recalls in many details the opening section of Pythian 1, which is Apollonius’s intertext for the representation of Polydeuces in these lines.185 Pythian 1 celebrates the chariot victory of Hieron against the background of Zeus’s triumph over Typhon supposedly buried under Etna. Music and dancing convey the harmony of Zeus’s rule and find an earthly parallel in Pindar’s celebration of Hieron’s achievements. The harmonious music of celebration provokes the violent reactions of Zeus’s enemies, particularly Typhon. Pindar sees here an opportunity to embellish the analogy between Zeus and Hieron by referencing Hieron’s recent victories over the  185 For detailed discussions of Pythian 1, see Burton 1962: 90–110; Lefkowitz 1976: 100–125; Segal 1985: 228–231; K. A. Morgan 2015: 300–345; Fearn 2017: 168–228.

150  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica Tyrrhenians and the Phoenicians (70–72). The allusion to Pythian 1 is activated by the fact that Polydeuces’s opponent is said to resemble Typhon. But this is only one aspect of the connection. Apollonius also reworks aspects of Apollo’s choreia on Olympus in the celebrations of the Argonauts after Polydeuces’s victory. The proem of Pythian 1 assumes the form of a hymn to the lyre as symbol of Zeus’s law and order. The divine performance that serves as Pindar’s timeless model emphasizes the sense of harmonious cooperation between dancers and their ἐξάρχων. The dancers obey the tunes produced by the lyre as do the singers during their song. Apollonius’s συνοίμιον may be the Hellenistic erudite rendition of the Pindaric προοίμιον, especially if the explanation of the Suda has any value. In addition, the product of the divine performance is the calmness that puts to sleep even Zeus’s symbols of authority, his thunderbolt and the eagle (5– 7). A similar effect is produced by the celebrations of Polydeuces’s victory completing the analogy: the beach resonates with the pleasurable festivities, while a sense of peacefulness spreads putting even the winds to sleep (162–163).186 The political background of Pythian 1 as Apollonius’s intertext raises the possibility that Apollonius views the Amycus episode as a way to comment on his own poem and the application of Pindaric elements in the story of Jason. More importantly still, Polydeuces allows Apollonius to reflect Ptolemaic mythology through his work. The Ptolemaic relevance of the Amycus episode becomes more evident in light of the pronounced similarities between the reception of Polydeuces and the Argonauts by king Lycus and Ptolemaic epinicians, particularly the Victoria Berenices. Lines 752–761 describe the reception Lycus, the King of the Mariandyni, offers to Polydeuces. The defeat of Amycus and of his people changes the political dynamics of the region. The Mariandyni are freed from the agressions of Amycus and the Bebryces (792–795). In their eyes, Polydeuces liberates them from their oppressor (796–798). His kleos spreads and prevents the Argonauts from departing unbeknownst to the Mariandyni (752–754). Apollonius’s selection of kleos triggers the epinician associations of the episode. Special honors are meted out to Polydeuces whom they treat as a god (756). Epinician victory is seen as a prerequisite of attaining divine honors.187 As Francis Vian (1976–1981: vol. 1, 122–123) notes, Polydeuces’s victory is the aition for the divine honors offered to the Dioscuri by Lycus. Polydeuces’s victory, depicted in epinician terms, is a benefaction to the people harassed by Amycus. It is on account of such victories and benefac-

 186 Cuypers 1997: 177 on 162–163 also mentions Pyth. 1.5–12; Matteo 2007: 130–131 ad loc. 187 Hitch 2012: 147–150.

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tions that some special individuals, Polydeuces and Heracles amongst them, attain immortality. Pindar explicitly associates divinity with benefactions in his odes for Heracles. In Hellenistic times, this mindset gains a new stimulus in light of the dissemination of Euhemerism. Active at the court of Ptolemy I, Euhemerus argues that gods were hero kings who received special honors on account of their benefactions to humanity.188 Callimachus is the first Ptolemaic poet, as far as we can tell, to integrate Euhemerism and Pindaric ideology in the Victoria Berenices: Heracles kills the Nemean lion and in so doing establishes his divine credentials. Since Heracles was believed to be the ancestor of the Ptolemaic family, this aspect of Callimachus’s elegy reflects upon the status of, and offers similar suggestions of immortality to, the laudanda, Queen Berenice II.189 As Hermann Fränkel has shown (1968: 514–516), an identical ideological framework structures the representation of Polydeuces, and his reception by Lycus brings this to the fore. The fact that Polydeuces and the Argonauts benefit not solely people in mainland Greece but also the peoples of the countries they pass through on their journey to Colchis invests Hellenic expansionism in the Hellenistic era with an acculturative potential and aspect reminiscent of Euhemeristic discourse. As with Heracles in both Pindar and Callimachus, the propriety of applying such a discourse to Polydeuces is motivated by his cultic and Ptolemaic relevance. Lycus offers a proper banquet in celebration of the defeat of Amycus. The two celebrations rework the impromptu celebration of the victor’s friends and the more stately celebration at the victor’s home. In archaic victory songs, it is usually the poet who arrives at the banquet bringing with him the kleos of the victor. Apollonius follows a Hellenistic rendition of this motif, whereby the kleos is not disseminated by the poet but rather arrives with the return of the victor (cf. Victoria Sosibii; Victoria Berenices). The Mariandyni do not sing songs about Polydeuces’s victory, but the poem exemplifies the mechanics of the spreading of kleos (2.752–754): Οὐδ’ ἄρα δηθὰ Λύκον, κείνης πρόμον ἠπείροιο, καὶ Μαριανδυνοὺς λάθον ἀνέρας ὁρμισθέντες αὐθένται Ἀμύκοιο κατὰ κλέος ὃ πρὶν ἄκουον· Nor did it long escape Lycus, lord of that land, and the Mariandyni that the men who anchored their ship were the killers of Amycus according to the news they had previously heard.

 188 See Chapter 4 pp. 175–176. 189 Kampakoglou 2013a; 2017.

152  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica Lycus and his people are aware of the Argonauts because of accounts they had heard regarding the killers of Amycus. Apollonius uses the Homeric term kleos to refer to oral accounts, perhaps even songs, relating Polydeuces’s victory.190 Previously in book 2 Apollonius references the song with which the Argonauts celebrate Polydeuces. The circulation of the praise bestowed upon through such reports (kleos) has reached a wider audience in the manner hoped for by Pindar for his victor. In a way, this scene recreates the return (nostos) of the victorious athlete to his homeland and the celebrations that follow. In addition to this, during the banquet Jason acts in a metapoetic fashion offering a narrative that summarizes the story up to that point.191 This includes the episode of Amycus (768). The effect of the narrative upon Lycus is described, in a typical epic fashion, as bewitching (θέλξις, 772).192 Through the analogy between Jason and himself as effective narrators, Apollonius establishes a parallel to the similar one that Pindar constructs between himself and Jason as effective speakers successfully addressing figures of royal authority (Pelias and Arcesilaus). Heracles figures prominently in Lycus’s narrative to the Argonauts. On his way to acquire the girdle of the Amazon queen Hippolytē, Heracles stayed with Lycus’s father, King Daskylos (Daskylos Senior).193 Lycus was still a boy at the time (779). Years have passed since then, and Lycus now has a son of his own (Daskylos Junior) named after Lycus’s father. The particulars of the reception of Heracles are important in establishing the epinician context of Heracles in the Argonautica. Heracles happens upon the Mariandyni as they were mourning Lycus’s older brother, Priolaos, who was murdered by the neighboring Mysian people (780–782). At the time, the Mariandyni were holding funeral games in honor of the killed prince. Heracles participated in the games and defeated in boxing a local youth named Titiēs (783–785). The story concludes with Daskylos Senior subjugating the neighboring people with the help of Heracles (786–791). However, Amycus and the Bebryces took advantage of Heracles’s absence to pillage Lycus’s country. Polydeuces has delivered Lycus’s people and restored them

 190 Usually in the plural as κλέα ἀνδρῶν; cf. Ford 1992: 46–47, 58–61. 191 Fränkel 1968: 230 on 761–772; Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 331 on 762–774. 192 Albis 1996: 52–53 sees this as Apollonius’s “note of self-approbation.” 193 Apollonius returns to this task of Heracles later on in lines 964–969. The journey to Colchis reenacts part of Heracles’s mythology and resembles a journey into the past; see Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 333 on 775–810.

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to the prosperity they knew during Heracles’s sojourn.194 In return for this benefaction, Lycus will send his son, Daskylus Junior, to assist the Argonauts and he will consecrate a temple to the Dioscuri on the top of the Acherusian headland (802–810). The embedded narrative about Heracles mirrors that about Polydeuces. Heracles appears again in his typical epinician role as foil to the laudandus. Unlike the previous mention of Heracles in lines 145–153, Lycus demonstrates how the mention of Heracles can be used positively without disregarding the value of the victor. Lycus is not motivated by jealousy but rather by desire to praise by comparing Polydeuces with the greatest of all heroes. Heracles is victorious in boxing exactly like Polydeuces. Indeed Polydeuces’s prowess recalls to the mind of Lycus the past victory of Heracles. ἀθλεύων, Τιτίην ἀπεκαίνυτο πυγμαχέοντα καρτερόν, ὃς πάντεσσι μετέπρεπεν ἠιθέοισιν εἶδός τ’ ἠδὲ βίην, χαμάδις δέ οἱ ἤλασ’ ὀδόντας.

(785)

Contending for the prize, he killed during a boxing match strong Tities, who surpassed all young men in beauty and strength, and he knocked his teeth to the ground.

Heracles’s opponent is a local youth. His name, Titiēs, preserves echoes of the name of Titans and may suggest that this victory recalls the archetypal fight between Heracles’s father against the older generation of gods. However this may be, within Lycus’s narrative Titiēs’s name interacts with the similarly sounding τίσιν at 796, τεῖσαι at 799, and τείσω at 800. Titiēs is said to surpass all other youths in stature (εἶδος) and strength (βίην), but he is no match for Heracles. If one views an element of arrogance in καρτερόν and this description, his suffering at Heracles’s hands is his due recompense, as is also the case with Amycus. In other words, Heracles’s treatment of Titiēs prefigures that of Amycus: Amycus pays for his insolence, and Lycus offers a reward to Polydeuces for his assistance. The verb Apollonius uses to describe Heracles’s victory over Titiēs suggests similarities between Lycus’s narrative and the Phaeacian episode. ἀποκαίνυμαι (“vanquish”) appears only here and in the Odyssey. Both uses in the Odyssey occur in contexts which include proto-epinician elements: at 8.127 it describes the victors

 194 Lines 796–798 suggest that Polydeuces’s victory coincided with an invasion into the land of the Bebryces led by Lycus himself; see Fränkel 1968: 232–234. Polydeuces works with Lycus in a manner that resembles the cooperation of Heracles with Lycus’s namesake grandfather.

154  Epinician Echoes in Apollonius’s Argonautica at the games Alcinoos organizes for the delectation of Odysseus; at 8.219 it describes Philoctetes’s skills with the bow in a rather competitive context that pits Philoctetes against the rest of the Greek army. The connection between Odyssey 8 and the Lycus episode offers an epic mould for the epinician discourse that Apollonius channels through his narrative. At the same time, one notes the analogy between Odysseus’s apologoi and the summary of the expedition that Jason presents to Lycus. Lycus establishes a correlation between athletic victory and heroic honors. Both Heracles and Polydeuces benefit the kingdom by destroying Lycus’s enemies. A relationship of guest-friendship is thus created between Lycus and Polydeuces, which Lycus describes appropriately as χάριν (799). In addition to this, Lycus will also consecrate a temple with temenos to the Dioscuri on the top of a hill. The temple will be built at a high altitude so that all mariners can see it and pray to the Dioscuri when in need (806–808). The description recalls Hector’s comments in Iliad 7 (84–91) about the σῆμα that sailors will be able to see from afar and recall his victory.195 The Greeks will erect a barrow marking the resting place of Hector’s victim. This will enable Hector to acquire poetic immortality.196 Both scenes include duels that lead to recognition and celebration of prowess. Further, kleos operates in a similar way in both contexts juxtaposing poetic immortality with divine honors. The emphasis on the mariners who view the temple and the σῆμα from afar suggests the mobility of fame, which will be carried along by the mariners in their journeys in a way also described by Pindar in the opening of Nemean 5. Like Hector Pindar associates the victor and his fame with the ability to be seen from far off. Lycus translates in spatial terms the epinician convention. At the same time, his comment is informed by the realities of the cult of the Dioscuri. The Dioscuri are savior gods particularly associated with helping distressed sailors at sea.197 The celebrations in 154–162 offer a first intimation of this since they produce a calmness of the environment, stopping all winds. νήνεμος ἀκτή is meant to call to mind the association of the Dioscuri with their beneficial influence on natural elements. The association accepts the highest possible approbation by Argo herself in book 4. At the behest of Zeus, Argo communicates to the Argonauts that Polydeuces and Castor should pray to the immortal gods (4.588– 589). Through their association with safe sailing the Argonauts can guarantee the

 195 Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 335 on lines 775–810. 196 Lynn-George 1988: 256–258; Ford 1992: 143–145. 197 Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 215n2.

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success of their nostos. In 4.650–654 the Argonauts institute an altar to the Dioscuri, obeying Zeus’s orders, but also for future generations of sailors who will be able to call upon the assistance of the Dioscuri.198

Conclusion Throughout the Argonautica, the Dioscuri, like Heracles, move through all ontological states. Starting as mortals, they defeat agents of chaos and receive heroic honors; eventually they attain divinity. In this they offer a model particularly useful for the Ptolemies who claimed similar honors for themselves. In Ptolemaic court poetry, the Dioscuri are usually seen as the conveyors of apotheosized queens particularly Queen Arsinoë II and potentially Berenice Syra.199 Such accounts imitate their role in conveying their sister Helen to safety at the end of Euripides’s Helen (1666–1675) and Orestes (1636–1637). Apollonius’s focus on the Dioscuri offers an additional foil to the story of Jason along with that of Heracles. Apollonius imitates composition by theme reworking the same structure with small variations; the sequence leads from Heracles to the Dioscuri and from them to Jason. This praises Jason’s achievement which is seen as the culmination of a process that starts with the semi-divine sons of Zeus. The concept and ideological purport of the ensuing juxtaposition between Jason and both Heracles and Polydeuces is Pindaric. Nonetheless the structural sequence of the repetition of athletic imagery bears affinities to Homeric practice in both the Iliad and the Odyssey. The Iliad uses duels as a device that articulates the poem: Paris and Menelaos in book 3, Diomedes and Aeneas in book 5, Hector and Ajax in book 7, Patroclus and Hector in book 16, Achilles and Aeneas in book 21, and finally Achilles and Hector in book 22. Each scene prepares the ground for the climactic duel of book 22, throwing into relief Achilles’s prominence. The victories of Heracles, Polydeuces, and Jason operate on the same premise. However, the athletic coloring of the victories in the Argonautica recalls the athletic imagery with which the Odyssey invests Odysseus’s success in Phaeacia and Ithaca before the killing of the suitors. Apollonius combines epic and epinician discourses developing the potentialities of archaic epic in light of Pindaric poetry.

 198 Fränkel 1968: 514–516; Hunter 2015: 170–171 ad loc. 199 Kampakoglou 2013a; 2015.

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Part II: Encomia and Hymns

Chapter 4 Pindaric Eschatology and Inherent Excellence in Theocritus’s Idyll 17 Introduction This chapter discusses Idyll 17, the most explicitly Ptolemaic poem in the whole of Theocritus’s corpus, and its connection with Pindaric poetry. In the following discussion I will argue that Idyll 17 is imbued with the propagandistic discourse1 of the royal house and attempts to project an ideal image of the reigning monarch as an optimus rex (105, οἷ’ ἀγαθῶι βασιλεῖ […]). I will further suggest that Theocritus creates his image of Ptolemy II as the ideal king on the basis of a long established tradition, which included not only philosophical and historical treatises but also previous poetic tradition, in which Pindar’s Sicilian odes and especially Olympian 2 play an important role. Patronage is a social phenomenon not peculiar to Hellenistic times; well before Hellenistic kings, tyrants and monarchs employed literature and arts to enhance their public image.2 To give one famous example, Hieron, the powerful tyrant of Syracuse, invited several great poets, among them Simonides, Pindar and Bacchylides, in order to support his public profile as a righteous and fair ruler.3 The odes Pindar addressed to him (Olympian 1; Pythians 1–3) or to his dignitaries such as Chromius (Nemeans 1 and 9) agree in their projection of the picture of a thriving Syracuse under his protection and government. The praise of Hieron’s athletic victories is combined with praising his rule and underpinning his political agenda. The several similarities in the treatment of Hieron’s public profile in the odes of Pindar and Bacchylides show that their contribution to the construction of Hieron’s public profile was permeated by some basic motifs such as righteousness, courage, piety towards the gods, and tradition. These were dictated by

 1 For the concept see Barbantani 2010: 227–228. Differently, Meincke 1965: 149–150, 155, 163, who sees the poem more as a sincere outpouring of Theocritus’s admiration of, and gratitude to, Ptolemy II for his benefactions towards him. This may be so, but I doubt we can use this poem as evidence regarding Theocritus’s true feelings towards Ptolemy II. 2 For patronage in Archaic and Classical times see Podlecki 1980, Bremmer 1991, and Mann 2000. See also Meincke 1965: 147–148 and Stephens 2018b: 64–65 for Ptolemy II as patron of the arts. 3 For Hieron’s ideological agenda and its influence on the works of Pindar and Bacchylides, see K.A. Morgan 2015 and Nicholson 2015. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-005

160  Pindaric Eschatology and Inherent Excellence in Theocritus’s Idyll 17 the propagandistic needs of the tyrant. Mutatis mutandis Pindar’s and Bacchylides’s cases are similar to those of Hellenistic court poets. There remain, however, considerable differences: Hieron’s court did not exhibit the same degree of organization or systematization in the propagation of his public image as Ptolemaic monarchy.4 Furthermore, Pindar, unlike Ptolemaic poets, never sought to become a court poet in the sense that he never intended to become the resident eulogist at Hieron’s court. Still, the similarities in the praise discourse employed by Archaic and Hellenistic poets can hardly be denied. In view of such similarities, I consider it worthwhile to examine how closely Idyll 17 agrees with the imagery that Pindar employs for the great rulers of the West. In the following discussion, I will turn especially to the examination of the intertextual relationship between Idyll 17 and Olympian 2 composed for Theron the tyrant of Akragas.

Of gods, heroes, and … men ἀρχομένου δ’ ἔργου πρόσωπον | χρὴ θέμεν τηλαυγές, advised Pindar (Olympian 6.3–4) some two hundred years before Theocritus composed his idyll in honor of King Ptolemy II. Callimachus probably had Pindar in mind when he composed his grandiose Victoria Berenices, and it is quite likely that Theocritus sought inspiration for his own praise poetry in Pindar. Due to its propagandistic character, this poem has found little sympathy with most modern readers of Theocritus.5 Nevertheless, the opening of this idyll, for all its rhetorical formalism, is one the most impressive and effective parts of the poem. Ἐκ Διὸς ἀρχώμεσθα καὶ ἐς Δία λήγετε Μοῖσαι, ἀθανάτων τὸν ἄριστον, ἐπὴν † ἀείδωμεν ἀοιδαῖς· ἀνδρῶν δ’ αὖ Πτολεμαῖος ἐνὶ πρώτοισι λεγέσθω καὶ πύματος καὶ μέσσος· ὃ γὰρ προφερέστατος ἀνδρῶν. ἥρωες, τοὶ πρόσθεν ἀφ’ ἡμιθέων ἐγένοντο, ῥέξαντες καλὰ ἔργα σοφῶν ἐκύρησαν ἀοιδῶν· αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ Πτολεμαῖον ἐπιστάμενος καλὰ εἰπεῖν ὑμνήσαιμ’· ὕμνοι δὲ καὶ ἀθανάτων γέρας αὐτῶν. Ἴδαν ἐς πολύδενδρον ἀνὴρ ὑλατόμος ἐλθών παπταίνει, παρεόντος ἄδην, πόθεν ἄρξεται ἔργου. τί πρῶτον καταλέξω; ἐπεὶ πάρα μυρία εἰπεῖν οἷσι θεοὶ τὸν ἄριστον ἐτίμησαν βασιλήων.

 4 Meincke 1965: 147. 5 e.g. Meincke 1965: 144 n3; notable exception Hunter 2003.

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Of gods, heroes, and … men  161

Let us start from Zeus and with Zeus finish, Muses, the best of the immortals, †whenever we sing. As for men, let Ptolemy be mentioned among the first, at the conclusion, and in the middle. For he surpasses all men. Heroes, who were born of demigods in the past, performing honorable deeds found skilled poets. For my part, knowing well how to praise, I would choose Ptolemy as the subject of my hymn; hymns are also the prize of the immortal gods. A woodcutter when he arrives on Ida covered with trees looks around, for plenty are available, to see where he will start his work. What should I say first? For I can mention a thousand honors, which the gods bestowed upon the best of kings.

The proem (1–12) is divided into three quatrains: (i) 1–4: Zeus and Ptolemy; (ii) 5– 8: heroes of old and Ptolemy; (iii) 9–12: woodcutter and the poet. Each quatrain is further divided into two couplets. In the first two quatrains, the first couplet refers to the divine and heroic world (Zeus, heroes), while the second is concerned with the world of humans. The third quatrain concerns the poet himself and his self-representation. The structural motif that helps to articulate the first four lines is the analogy between Zeus and Ptolemy,6 an analogy emphatically underlined by the chiastic juxtaposition of their attributes (2, ἀθανάτων τὸν ἄριστον, ἐπὴν † ἀείδωμεν ἀοιδαῖς ~ 12, οἷσι θεοὶ τὸν ἄριστον ἐτίμησαν βασιλήων). Τhe meeting-point between the two of them is their respective excellence (Zeus, ἀθανάτων τὸν ἄριστον ~ Ptolemy, ὁ γὰρ προφερέστατος ἄλλων). Still, Theocritus is careful to retain the boundaries of the two statuses; the repetition of the genitive ἀνδρῶν at the beginning and the end of Ptolemy’s couplet makes certain that whatever the similarities with Zeus, Ptolemy still belongs to the realm of mortal men.7 Nonetheless, in view of the socio-religious ambience in which this poem was written, the comparison of Ptolemy II to Zeus does not fail to bring home to the audience his divine aspirations.

 6 Hunter 2003: 95; Heerink 2010: 394. 7 Theocritus juxtaposes gods or heroes with men again in the opening lines of Idyll 13 (1–4). In a passage that owes a lot to the proem of Pindar’s Nemean 6 (cf. Cholmeley 1901 ad loc.), Theocritus reminds his friend Nicias of the inability of humans to know the future as opposed to gods’ omniscience (4); in Nemean 6 this is the κεκριμένα δύναμις that separates gods from men (6–7); cf. Gerber 1999 ad loc. Similar passages include Pind. Ol. 12.7–9 and [Aesch.] Pr. 250–253. More importantly, though, Theocritus employs the Pindaric motif of the commonality between the two ontological categories (Nem. 6.1–2) giving it a different application: the common ancestral bond between gods and humans is not detected in the prowess of athletes and heroes as in Pindar (cf. Jaeger 1947: vol. 1, 205; Bowra 1964: 97; Fränkel 1975: 472–474) but rather in the helpless way in which both gods and humans react to the power of erōs (Theoc. 13.1–2); cf. Hunter 1999: 265–266.

162  Pindaric Eschatology and Inherent Excellence in Theocritus’s Idyll 17 In the roughly contemporary Hymn to Zeus, Callimachus suggests a similar analogy between the rule of Zeus and Ptolemy Philadelphus.8 However, in Callimachus’s poem the analogy is never spelled out in such explicit terms as in Idyll 17. It is rather insinuated first by the selected account of Zeus’s ascent to the throne of the gods (60–67), which alludes to the conflict between Philadelphus and his half-brothers, Ptolemy Keraunos and Magas,9 and second by the special interest that Zeus shows towards Ptolemy and his realm (85–90). The intertextual relationship of these two poems aside, their similarities in this central motif implies that the analogy between Zeus and Ptolemy was suggested by court circles.10 At any rate, Pindar’s Pythian 1 provides an interesting precedent for this analogy. Idyll 16 conveniently alludes to this Pindaric ode, and it is quite likely that the imagery proved palatable to a monarch that prided himself on his benefactions to the arts. In Pythian 1, Pindar draws an elaborate comparison between the calmness of Zeus’s and of Hieron’s rules,11 a calmness which is expressed in musical terms (38, 70);12 on the other hand, the noises produced by the Phoenicians, Hieron’s enemies (72), resemble those that Typhon makes as he lies under Etna, whenever he hears the sound of Apollo’s lyre.13 Etna, the volcano in the vicinity of which Hieron’s (supposedly) newly founded city was situated and which functioned in the ode’s myth as the eternal prison of Zeus’s arch-enemy, enables the transition from the divine sphere of Zeus’s rule to that of the mortal Hieron: in fact, Etna is represented as a sky-high column (19) which in suppressing Typhon metaphorically connects the two kingdoms and symbolizes the order of Zeus’s rule.14 This image along with the celebrations taking place on Olympus and at Hieron’s court and the power of music and dance strengthens the analogy between the two universes.

 8 Perrotta 1925: 37–41. I cannot discuss here the question of which poem comes first. It is enough for the aims of this discussion that both reflect motifs and themes that derived from the needs of Ptolemaic propaganda. See also Chapter 6 below. 9 Perrotta 1925: 50–52; Weber 1993: 236–238; D’Alessio 2007: 72n18; Barbantani 2010: 238–239. For the problems of this interpretation see McLennan 1977 ad 61. 10 Barbantani 2010: 240–242. For the cult of Zeus in Ptolemaic Alexandria see Fraser 1972: vol. 1, 193–195. 11 Gundert 1935: 71–74, Norwood 1945: 102–105, Carne-Ross 1985: 107–111, and Hubbard 1985: 92 discuss the parallelism between Zeus and Hieron. 12 Lefkowitz 1976: 105, 109, 114; Segal 1985: 288–289; Cingano 1995 ad 70. For the concept of musical order and its significance for the ode see e.g. Burton 1962: 91–93 and Cingano 1995: 20. 13 Schroeder 1922 ad 70ff.; Lefkowitz 1976: 119; Segal 1985: 289; Cingano 1995: 355. 14 Segal 1985: 288.

Of gods, heroes, and … men  163

The second quatrain of Theocritus 17 concerns an in-between ontological category, that of heroes born of demigods (5–6). So the proem presents a descending scale which comprises gods, heroes, and a lower type of existence, mortal men. The tripartite division of ontological categories which articulates this proem comes quite close to the opening of Pindar’s Olympian 2 and suggests this ode as one of Theocritus’s major subtexts for the unfolding of his eulogistic discourse:15 Ἀναξιφόρμιγγες ὕμνοι, τίνα θεόν, τίν’ ἥρωα, τίνα δ’ ἄνδρα κελαδήσομεν; Songs that rule the lyre, what god, what hero, what man shall we praise?

In his effort to encompass all categories (gods, heroes, men) Pindar follows a rhetorical topos, the preamble-question, usually found in the proems of epic poems and hymns.16 This would be another, indirect way to praise Theron: although Pindar has at his disposal a variety of topics concerning gods, heroes and men to sing about, he still chooses Theron.17 This is certainly true, but one cannot disregard the function this incipit serves within this ode. The rhetorical exaggeration of the opening question aside, the eschatological character of the myth and the subtle promise of a privileged afterlife it suggests for Theron alerts the audience to specific implications suggested to the poet by Theron himself or his supporters. According to Diodorus Siculus (11.53.2), Theron received heroic honors after his death. Quite likely this decision was not taken suddenly but was rather prepared

 15 Hunter 2003: 95–96; Currie 2005: 83–84. Manetho (FGrHist 609 F 3a) divided his history in three parts comprising theoi, nekues or hēmitheoi, and andres. Murray (1970: 168) considers the proem of Idyll as 17 a possible reminiscence of Hecataeus’s threefold division; cf. Hunter 2003: 96. Still, the attraction of Pindar’s poem for Theocritus, and court circles, would be even greater in view of its agreement with independent Egyptian tradition. The incipit of Olympian 2 is frequently imitated in antiquity; apart from the well-known Horatian rendition (C. I.12.1–3 quem virum aut heroa lyra vel acri | tibia sumis celebrare, Clio? | quem deum?), the same tripartite division appears in Antiph. 27 and Isocr. Euag. 39; see Christ 1896 ad loc. For the memorability of a poem’s opening, see Conte 1986: 70. 16 Cf. Hymn hom. Ap. 19–24 with N.J. Richardson’s 2010 note ad loc. 17 See Lehnus 1981 and especially Ferrari 1998 ad loc. In a similar way, Theocritus compares himself with a woodcutter who climbs mountain Ida and does not know where to begin from (9– 12); the imagery operates on the analogy between woods (ὕλη) and the μύριαι τιμαί of Ptolemy. The poet’s inability to find a suitable point from which to begin his poem serves the same encomiastic strategy. It is possible that the image is borrowed from Simonides (11.2–3 W2 ἢ πίτυν ἐν βήσ[σαις | ὑλοτόμοι τά[μνωσι). The context, though, is too lacunose to allow any certainty.

164  Pindaric Eschatology and Inherent Excellence in Theocritus’s Idyll 17 by the tyrant himself during his lifetime.18 Pindar, then, following Theron’s wishes, insinuates his approaching “heroization.” As we are going to see next, the elements Pindar uses for Theron’s portrait are also employed by Theocritus in his representation of Ptolemy II. In Olympian 2 Pindar touches on the sensitive topic of the boundaries separating mortality and divinity (cf. lines 22–30). Gildersleeve (1908: 142) nicely summarizes the poem’s dominant issue: “This is a poem for one who stands on the solemn verge beyond which lies immortal, heroic life.” The tone is struck from the very beginning of the ode when the narrator asks “songs that dominate φόρμιγγες” for a proper topic to sing. Similarly at the end of his poem the poet asks his θυμός this time for a target proper for his poetic shafts (89–90). “Theron” is the answer to both these questions. Throughout the ode Pindar suggests a comparison or even an analogy between the three ontological categories enumerated in the first line: god (Zeus), hero (Heracles), and man (Theron). In his capacity as king of the gods Zeus functions as a foil to Theron the tyrant of Akragas in the way he will also do for Hieron six years later in Pythian 1 (see above). Heracles is the founder of the Olympic Games (cf. Olympian 10.55–77) and so appropriate for the praise of an Olympic victor. Still, Heracles is also a mortal man to whom immortality was granted thanks to his benefactions to the human kind (cf. Nemean 3.23–26). In his capacity, then, as a deified hero Heracles paves the way for Theron.19 In general, one point that one can make about the intertextual relationship between Olympian 2 and Idyll 17 is that Theocritus is more clear than Pindar regarding Ptolemy’s heroic status. To a certain degree this difference reflects the changes in religious consciousness that have come about since Pindar’s times. Nevertheless, Callimachus, writing at the same time as Theocritus, is, as a rule, more elusive in suggesting similar analogies between gods or heroes and members of the reigning house in his hymns.20 Instead of following the descending order god-hero-man one finds in Pindar’s Olympian 2, Theocritus places Ptolemy,

 18 Currie 2005: 192. 19 In Olympian 3 the Land of the Hyperboreans conceptualizes in a geographical manner the boundaries between mortality and divinity. Heracles’s access to their land signifies his potential for deification as a reward for his deeds. The latent comparison between Heracles and Theron becomes apparent only towards the end of Olympian 3 with possible suggestions of a similar fate for Theron (43–45; Lehnus 1981 ad 13–34; Robbins 1984: 224–228). 20 Cf. Barbantani 2010: 228. θεὸς ἄλλος | […] Σωτηράων ὕπατον γένος (Hymn 4.165–166) is a notable exception.

Of gods, heroes, and … men  165

a man, between Zeus and the “heroes born of demigods” (5).21 This enables Ptolemy to be juxtaposed with both categories explicitly: with Zeus in his capacity as king22 and with heroes as a descendant of deified heroes himself (Ptolemy I: 13– 15; Alexander: 18–19; and Heracles: 20–27). The prepositional phrase ἐκ πατέρων (“from the forefathers”; cf. LSJ9 s.v. VII.1) includes all the personages mentioned in lines 13–33.23 Theocritus explicitly designates the Ptolemies as descendants of Heracles and as such connects them with Alexander and more importantly with Zeus himself (57–61).24 Heracles is said to take pleasure in the immortality and everlasting youth that Zeus granted to his descendants, Ptolemy I and Alexander (23–27).25 As a descendant of men who are now worshipped as ἀθάνατοι (25)26 and feast along with the rest of the immortals like Heracles (22), Ptolemy is assumed to follow suit; further, as we will shortly see, lines 71–78 make it abundantly clear

 21 Theocritus innovates in distinguishing between heroes and demigods, thought in archaic times to be the same (e.g. Hesiod WD 159–160; Alcaeus fr. 42.13 Liberman; Simonides fr. 245 Poltera); see also M.A. Rossi 1989: 22 and Hunter 2003: 101–102. Theocritus uses the term ἥρως for the Argonauts twice (13.28; 22.78), the Dioscuri (24.163), and Menelaus (18.18). Even so, he is not consistent in the distinction between heroes and demigods: e.g. 13.169; 18.18; 24.132. The use of ἡμίθεος for the Argonauts follows Pindaric precedent: Pyth. 4.12, 184, 211. Pindar uses it only for the Argonauts. Bacchylides uses the term for the Argives who attacked Thebes (9.10) and the heroes who fought under Proetus against Acrisius (11.62). 22 The way in which Theocritus speaks of Ptolemy recalls the Stoic description of Zeus. The scholia 1–4a indicate an allusion to the first line of Aratus’s Phaenomena; it would be tempting to see this allusion as an indication of a Stoic reading of our poem, perhaps even an attempt on Theocritus’s part to represent Ptolemy as the ideal Stoic σοφός king; see also Perrotta 1925: 29– 36; Meincke 1965: 90; Hamm 2009: 94n56. Apart from this possibility, the explanation offered by the scholiast 1–4c is the most sensible. Apparently, Theocritus echoes here current court practice; the Greek version of the synodic decree of Memphis (OGIS 90A–B) in 196 BCE refers to Ptolemy V Philopator as εἰκόνος ζώσης τοῦ Διός. This is a direct translation of the Egyptian title njśwt-bjt “living image of Amun”; see Koenen 1993: 48–50 and especially 59: “he [sc. Ptolemy V] is on earth what Zeus or, to use the Egyptian name of the god, what Amun-Re is in heaven”; cf. also Hunter 2003: 95 and Heerink 2010: 395. The identification of the Ptolemies with major gods seems to antedate the Memphis decree: cf. e.g. the identification of Ptolemy I Soter with Atum on the Pithom Stele (ca. 264 BCE); Grzybek 1990: 77–79. 23 Meincke 1965: 95n2. 24 Tarn 1933; Meincke 1965: 152. 25 σφέων … μελέων ἐξείλετο γῆρας (24) indicates that Zeus granted Heracles’s descendants everlasting youth in addition to immortality; Cholmeley 1901 and Hunter 2003 ad loc., Meincke 1965: 99. Contra Gow 1952 ad loc., who thinks that the phrase indicates immortality only. Heracles wedded Hebe, the personification of youth; the same fortune was bestowed upon his descendants. 26 Berenice, Ptolemy’s mother, is also deified. She receives her honors alongside Aphrodite as her sunnaos (46–50); see Kampakoglou 2013b.

166  Pindaric Eschatology and Inherent Excellence in Theocritus’s Idyll 17 that Ptolemy II enjoys Zeus’s benevolence. Consequently, it seems to be implied, the son of Cronus will remove old age from Ptolemy’s limbs too (74), and allow him to take his rightful place at the banquet of the gods. In addition to this interpretation, certain points throughout the idyll suggest the ambiguous or marginal status that Ptolemy holds. To begin with, Ptolemy will receive a hymn (8, ὑμνήσαιμι, “I would sing hymns for”), explicitly said to be ἀθανάτων γέρας αὐτῶν, “the prize of immortal gods themselves” (8), when the heroes of old, a category higher than mortal Ptolemy, received only songs as a reward for their military prowess (5–6).27 The undying kleos that poets have purveyed to the descendants of Atreus (118) in lines 118–120 is an example of the songs that Theocritus has in mind here.28 Lines 135–136 (χαῖρε, ἄναξ Πτολεμαῖε· σέθεν δ’ ἐγὼ ἶσα καὶ ἄλλων | μνάσομαι ἡμιθέων […]) are modeled on the ending of Homeric hymns.29 The poet appropriates the χαῖρε formula and considers Ptolemy equal to other demigods, a designation employed elsewhere in Theocritus for Castor, Menelaus and Adonis.30 Through the course of this poem Ptolemy makes the transition from being a man (3, ἀνδρῶν) to being a demigod (136, ἡμιθέων)31— a case of poetic and textual heroization.32 Furthermore, Ptolemy is addressed as ἄναξ (135); the hymnic undertones of the imperative χαῖρε aside, this is used in the same poem also for Apollo (70, ἶσον καὶ Ῥήναιαν ἄναξ ἐφίλησεν Ἀπόλλων, “lord Apollo equally loved Rhenaia”) in a scene which obviously imitates the Homeric Hymn to Apollo (60–70).33 The analogy, or perhaps identification, with  27 Meincke 1956: 93–94, 152. 28 Meincke 1965: 135. 29 Meincke 1965: 140, 158; Heerink 2010: 385, 393–394. 30 In the Homeric hymns, χαῖρε ἄναξ is used for Apollo only once in 21.5; it is frequent for lesser deities: 15.9 Heracles, 16.5 Asclepius, 19.47 Pan, 31.17, Helios, 32.17 Selene. Cf. also Fantuzzi 2001: 232n1. 31 Pace Gow ad loc. “possibly we need not infer that Ptolemy is thought of here”, although before Gow correctly notes that “he seems to be promoted to the rank of demigod”; cf. Fantuzzi 2001: 233n2 and 237. Fantuzzi persuasively argues that Theocritus’s challenge to the Hesiodic ontological taxonomy is modelled after Simonides’s elegy for the battle of Plataea (11 W2) and reaches some interesting conclusions concerning the choice of this specific text by Theocritus. 32 The phenomenon is aptly described by Mann 2000: 35 in his discussion of the myth of Croesus in Bacchylides Ode 3: “Hieron überwindet die Grenzen zwischen der menschlichen und der heroischen Sphäre, es handelt sich beim Text des Bakchylides um eine literarische Heroisierung.” (italics added). This consideration strengthens the possibility that Theocritus relies on archaic models for fashioning his praise discourse of the Ptolemaic sovereign. 33 Meincke 1965: 111–118. In addition to the similarities mentioned by Meincke, one also notes that Heracles’s joy for his descendants (22–25) reminds one of Leto’s joy on seeing Apollo (12– 13). Also, the catalogue of Ptolemy’s dominions (86–94) holds a position analogous to the catalogue of Apollo’s shrines (21–50).

Of gods, heroes, and … men  167

Apollo is suggested in more detail in the scene of Ptolemy’s birth on Cos (see below). Lines 3–4 are modeled on Theognis’s address to Apollo in the proem of the earliest collection (3–4):34 Tab. 2: Similarities between Ptolemy in Theocritus 17 and Apollo in Theognis ἀνδρῶν δ’ αὖ Πτολεμαῖος ἐνὶ πρώτοισι λεγέσθω | καὶ πύματος καὶ μέσσος· […].

ἀλλ’ αἰεὶ πρῶτον σὲ καὶ ὕστατον ἔν τε μέσοισιν | ἀείσω· […].

Let Ptolemy be named first among men | and last and in the middle [...]

but I will sing of you always first and last and in the middle.

As Young notes in his edition of Theognis’s poems, similar expressions reappear in hymns for gods: for example, the Muses (Theogony 34) and Apollo (Homeric Hymn 21).35 In light of these parallels, although Theocritus praises Ptolemy as the most suitable laudandus over all mortal men, he does so using a formula employed in hymns for gods. The singling-out of the laudandus, a motif also employed in Idyll 16, is exaggerated so that Ptolemy is indeed out of mortal men’s league, the more so since he belongs to the world of the gods. In addition to this aspect of Ptolemy’s representation, Ptolemy’s marriage to his sister and the comparison with the “sacred marriage” of Zeus and Hera that Theocritus draws (130– 134) is a final indication of Ptolemy’s proximity to the divine realm.36 The image that Theocritus fashions for Philadelphus oscillates between the analogy with Zeus and his identification with Apollo.37 Theocritus does not hesitate to present a divine promotion, so to speak, of Ptolemy, something that Pindar avoids mentioning explicitly, although Pindar does allude to this as something imminent. In the following part I offer a brief description of the argument of Olympian 2. This will allow me to appreciate the role of the eschatological myth within Pindar’s eulogistic discourse and examine its importance for the image of the optimus rex in Olympian 2 and so for Theocritus’s encomium of Philadelphus in Idyll 17.

 34 See Young’s apparatus ad loc. and Heerink 2010: 395n56. 35 Meincke 1965: 92n2. 36 Meincke 1965: 149. 37 Hunter 2003: 94. Note also Barbantani 2011: 181 “Hymns refer clearly to the Ptolemaic court pantheon, with any shift between analogy and identification of gods and rulers often being imperceptible.”

168  Pindaric Eschatology and Inherent Excellence in Theocritus’s Idyll 17

In the Company of Heroes: Theron’s Prospects in the Afterlife Pindar insinuates Theron’s final reception of heroic honors through the extensive eschatological part he includes in his ode (56–84). This part of the ode raises several difficult questions, a convincing answer to some of which is still wanted. This is not the place to enter into a detailed discussion of the vexed problem of the doctrine exposed in lines 55–70, as this does not influence our discussion directly. I will discuss only those parts that could have a bearing on our appreciation of Theron’s portrait as a benefactor in Olympian 2. Pindar makes it clear that Theron’s final afterlife destination is, or more correctly, could be, the Isles of the Blessed (70–71) where Cronus and Rhea rule. Lines 70–83 give a detailed description of the privileged existence that some chosen few lead there in the company of renowned heroes such as Achilles (79–83), Peleus, and more importantly Cadmus (86), Theron’s ancestor. The first part of the ode offers an elaborate exposition of the ancestral line of Theron’s family, from Cadmus and his daughters Semele and Inō to Polyneices’s son Thersander (23–47). Local propaganda, it seems, maintained that Theron’s family drew its descent from Cadmus through Thersander (46–47).38 As a matter of fact, Σ ad Ol. 2.39a and 70f bring these lines into relation with an encomium that Pindar composed for Theron (frr. 118–119 Sn.-M.) and which also traced Theron’s descent back to Cadmus and Adrastοs (45 with Σ ad 81a, 81f). This would seem to be an important part of Theron’s public image. In Idyll 17 Heracles is joined on Olympus by his descendants who participate in the feasts of the gods (16–27). The idea of an emerging dynasty of deified mortals underlying this scene reflects the same idelogical background as Olympian 2. In both poems, that is, deified mortals institute divine and royal lines that will enable the youngest member of the dynasty praised (Theron and Ptolemy II respectively) to gain access to paradisiacal or divine abodes (Isles of the Blessed and Olympus). Prefiguring Heracles, Cadmus begins a line that includes gods (Inō, Semele, and through her Dionysus) and rulers; further, in the manner of Heracles Cadmus will eventually be joined by at least one of them, Theron, on the Isles of the Blessed.39 Against the background that such similarities offer, one can best appreciate the difference that Theocritus brings to the Pindaric pattern. Pindar is still careful to place the heroized Theron in a kind of lesser Olympus meant for the lower class of deified mortals. On the other hand, Theocritus breaks with traditional formulas by representing Alexan-

 38 Σ ad Ol. 2.70b, 82d; Lehnus 1981: 38–40. 39 Hunter 2003: 96.

In the Company of Heroes: Theron’s Prospects in the Afterlife  169

der and the Ptolemies on Olympus. Heracles’s admission to Olympus is traditional, and this enables Theocritus to boost the status of his patrons over that of Pindar’s laudandi. It is worthwhile, in this respect, to compare and contrast the introduction of the laudandus’s forefathers in the praise discourse of both poems: ἐκ πατέρων οἷος μὲν ἔην τελέσαι μέγα ἔργον (Theocritus 17.13) and εὐωνύμων τε πατέρων ἄωτον ὀρθόπολιν (Olympian 2.7; cf. Σ ad Ol. 2.13b–c). In Idyll 17, line 13 stands at the beginning of a section dealing with Ptolemy’s deified male ancestors (13–33) (see above). On the other hand, in Olympian 2, line 7 is used more generally to praise Theron against the background formed by all his forefathers. The most ancient and noble part of them will be introduced in more detail later in the poem after the gnomē about the power of Time (15–22). This, in turn, leads us to a fundamental difference in the way in which the two poets deal with the family history of their laudandi. In contrast to Idyll 17, in Olympian 2 Theron’s admission to the company of his forefathers on the Isles of the Blessed is not unconditional. Theocritus, on the other hand, does not include any “warnings” for his patron; on the contrary, he represents his path to Olympus as open and uneventful, not only because Ptolemy already enjoys the love of Zeus (71–84) but also because he is a benefactor to his people (85–122) and shows piety towards the gods (123– 127).40 Theron does so too and, as we will see next, Ptolemy’s profile closely follows that of Theron in Olympian 2. Also, as an Olympic victor Theron enjoys the love and support of Zeus without whose help he would not have been able to win. However, Pindar adds a proviso which is explained through the ancestral myth of Theron’s clan, a proviso that Theron needs to heed. Contrary to what one might expect in an encomiastic poem, Pindar is not silent about the dark pages in the chronicles of Theron’s family. Even if the story of the royal line of Thebes presents all these dark episodes, it is nonetheless a Panhellenic myth that constituted part of Greek epic traditions.41 In this sense, association with such a family, its darkness aside, is flattering to the victor. Stressing the failings of Theron’s ancestors allows Pindar to single out Theron and to add to the praise of his virtues as a statesman. Pindar refers to the worries that befell Cadmus and his daughters (23–37), he alludes in passing to Laios’s hubris (38– 40; cf. Σ ad 72a) and mentions the internecine feud between Eteocles and Polyneices and the second expedition against Thebes (40–45). Against this sombre family background, Theron stands out as a potential inhabitant of the Isles of the Blessed thanks to the wise use of his wealth and his inborn virtues (51–55; 91–  40 Meincke 1965: 132. 41 Davies 2014.

170  Pindaric Eschatology and Inherent Excellence in Theocritus’s Idyll 17 100; cf. Σ ad 96e). However, Theron ought to be careful not to stray from this path, because, as Pindar notes, mortal fate is uneven and leads from happiness to sadness and vice versa (19–21): the daughters of Cadmus suffered in their lives, but were admitted to the company of the gods (cf. also Pythian 3.80–84; 104–109). Theron has every prospect of being admitted to the Isles of the Blessed, but he needs to adhere until the very end to the ideal of the benefactor that Pindar describes in his eschatology.42

εὐεργεσία as Prerequisite for Deification Olympian 2.53–56 suggests that the right use of wealth during one’s lifetime in combination with other inborn aretai can influence one’s lot after death: to quote the most plausible rendition of this passage offered by the ancient scholia (Σ ad 102d), the person who is invested by nature with wealth and virtue puts them to good use because he knows that punishment awaits the wicked and the crooked after death:43 ὁ μὰν πλοῦτος ἀρεταῖς δεδαιδαλμένος φέρει τῶν τε καὶ τῶν καιρὸν βαθεῖαν ὑπέχων μέριμναν †ἀγροτέραν, ἀστὴρ ἀρίζηλος, ἐτυμώτατον ἀνδρὶ φέγγος.

(53) (55)

Wealth embellished with excellence brings every kind of opportunity encouraging a deep †wild ambition, a conspicuous star, truest light for a man.

The full purport and implications of these lines can be grasped only if contextualized within the image of εὐεργέτης that Pindar creates for his patron. Pindar is the first to exploit the image of εὐεργέτης in his poetry.44 In Pindar’s poems, the term

 42 Bollack 1963: 244–246. 43 Nisetich 1988: 6–8; Koniaris 1988: 240–244; 1997: 12–14. 44 The term is attested for the first time in two inscriptions dated to the decade 480–470 BCE honoring Alexander I of Macedon and Themistocles; Skard 1931: 6–7. As a political term, it is associated with the institution of προξενία; it confers protection upon the one honored, while the title can be passed on to the following generations. Even so, it lacks the explicit and palpable political nature of προξενία and is delegated to a lesser position. Schubart 1937: 14–15 provides

εὐεργεσία as Prerequisite for Deification  171

has not yet acquired the fixed political meaning that one finds in decrees and political texts, but still bears the original meaning “benefactor.”45 It can relate to athletic activity and so designate the god by whose good favor an athlete won a victory (e.g. Poseidon in Isthmian 1.53) or a mortal, like Karrhotos (Pythian 5.44) who drove Arcesilaus’s chariot and won on his behalf in the Pythian Games of 462 BCE. In other passages (Pythian. 2.24, 4.30, and Isthmian 6.70) εὐεργεσία is brought into relation with ξενία (“hospitality”) with the emphasis falling on the χάρις that one owes to one’s benefactor (cf. the negative example of Ixion in Pythian 2). Against this background, Olympian 2 invites our attention to the manner in which it brings together themes and motifs that acquired significance in Hellenistic political theory as depicted in court poems. For instance, the end of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus (94–96) seems to recall the Pindaric combination of ἀρετή and wealth expressed in the passage from Olympian 2 above:46 χαῖρε, πάτερ, χαῖρ’ αὖθι· δίδου δ’ ἀρετήν τ’ ἄφενός τε. οὔτ’ ἀρετῆς ἄτερ ὄλβος ἐπίσταται ἄνδρας ἀέξειν οὔτ’ ἀρετὴ ἀφένοιο· δίδου δ’ ἀρετήν τε καὶ ὄλβον. Farewell to you, father, twice farewell. Give us excellence and wealth. Happiness does not know how to make men great without excellence neither excellence without wealth. Give us excellence and happiness.

Callimachus prays to Zeus to give ἀρετή and wealth to himself and presumably also to Ptolemy II. The effective combination of both gifts will enable Ptolemy to use his wealth to strengthen his public profile as benefactor: his virtuous nature will drive him to put his wealth to good use. As we will see shortly, similar concerns are observable in Idyll 17. Pindar explicitly calls Theron a benefactor, a characterization that gains in importance in light of Theron’s posthumous heroization: ἐπί τοι Ἀκράγαντι τανύσαις αὐδάσομαι ἐνόρκιον λόγον ἀλαθεῖ νόωι, τεκεῖν μή τιν’ ἑκατόν γε ἐτέων πόλιν φίλοις ἄνδρα μᾶλλον

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 a useful overview of documentary papyri and inscriptions, while Bringmann 1993a–b explores the significance of the idea of εὐεργέτης for “international” politics in Hellenistic times. 45 Skard 1931: 12–13; Hampe 1952: 47–50; Currie 2005: 286–287. 46 Smiley 1919: 53; Duchemin 1967 ad Pyth. 5.1. Compare also Pyth. 5.1–4 with Giannini 1995 ad loc. The Pindaric scholia mention that the combination was also found in a poem of Sappho (fr. 148 Voigt). Appreciation of the Sapphic lines is difficult due to the loss of the original context. For other possible subtexts see McLennan 1977 ad loc.

172  Pindaric Eschatology and Inherent Excellence in Theocritus’s Idyll 17 εὐεργέταν πραπίσιν ἀφθονέστερόν τε χέρα Θήρωνος. Stretching my bow towards Akragas, I will loudly proclaim under oath and with a true mind, that in the past one hundred years no city has given birth to a man with a more beneficent mind and a more lavish hand than Theron.

There is no need for us to enter here into the controversial issue of Pindar’s or Theron’s beliefs in or alleged affiliations with Orphic-Pythagorean sects.47 Hampe has demonstrated that the passages usually purported to have a specifically Orphic importance are, in fact, standard encomiastic topoi employed in other odes as well;48 odes about which there can be no claim for connection with OrphicPythagorean beliefs.49 The importance of the fair and right use of the laudandus’s wealth (53) is repeatedly stressed in odes addressed to tyrants by both Pindar and Bacchylides (cf. e.g. Pythian 1.89–90; Bacchylides 3.64–66). An interesting parallel, with possible relevance for the use of wealth in our discussion but with no obvious mystical connotations, is provided by Bacchylides’s ode for Hieron’s Olympic victory with the chariot (468 BCE). The ode’s myth narrates how Apollo miraculously rescued Croesus and transported him to the land of the Hyperboreans. The land of the Hyperboreans constitutes a quasi-

 47 Scholars have been using labels such as “Orphic” or “Pythagorean” freely to describe a whole array of marginal cults: “local mystery cult of Demeter” [Del Grande 1956: 76–79] or “of Zeus of Cretan-Rhodian origin” [Demand 1979]. For the influence of Pythagorean doctrines see Solmsen 1968: 503–506 and Lloyd-Jones 1990b: 101–103. It should be stressed, though, that the idea of Pythagorean or Orphic influence on Olympian 2 is nothing more than a speculative conjecture of Hellenistic scholiasts manifesting their difficulty with the poem (cf. Σ ad 104c, 106a, 123d). A pseudo-historicizing scenario has been elaborated to accommodate the presence of Theron’s belief in marginal cults in this ode: Theron is old and overcome with worries; in his time of anxiety Pindar comes bearing this “epistola poetica consolatoria” or “parole di conforto e di consolazione” to ease Theron’s anxiety before death; cf. Bonconi 1941: 26–29. On the antiquated and false idea of “poetic epistle” see Kurke 1991: 3n7, Gibson/Morrison 2007: 4–9. To make matters worse Impellizzeri 1939: 109–110 considered the ode a contamination of epinician and θρῆνος. On the whole, see the sober approach of Bollack 1963 and esp. 246–254. 48 Hampe 1952: 46–52 on εὐεργέτης, 53 on πλοῦτος, and 53–54 on Lichtvergleiche. 49 Even so, Hampe 1952: 59–65 allows for the possibility that lines 75–77 allude to the Pythagorean doctrine of transmigration. The exact way in which Pindaric transmigration operates still eludes scholars; see, however, Bollack 1963: 246–247 who rejects Pythagorean or Orphic influence altogether. Both Fritz 1957 and McGibbon 1964 follow the ancient scholiasts in their precarious interpretations; for Hellenistic scholiasts’ interpretation of Olympian 2 see Gianotti 1971: 26–30.

εὐεργεσία as Prerequisite for Deification  173

paradisiacal land similar to the Isles of the Blessed to which only the gods’ favorites are admitted:50 e.g. Heracles in Olympian 3; Perseus in Pythian 10.30–36 and Simias in Apollo fr. 1 Powell.51 Apollo’s intervention in favor of the Lydian king is predicated on Croesus’s piety manifested through his wise use of his wealth (58– 62): τότε Δαλογενὴ[ς Ἀπό]λλων | φέρων ἐς Ὑπερβορέο[υς γ]έροντα […] | δι’ εὐσέβειαν, ὅτι μέγιστα θ̣ νατῶν | ἐς ἀγαθέαν έπεμψε [: Hutchinson 2001] Π̣[υθ]ώ, “then Apollo, born on Delos, brought the old man to the Hyperboreans […] | on account of his piety, because he sent to most holy Pytho the most offerings of any mortal.” The lines immediately following these emphasize Hieron’s liberality and piety towards the temple of Delphi (63–65). Whether this suggests a privileged afterlife lot for Hieron too remains unclear.52 Unlike Pindar and Theocritus, Bacchylides focuses only on Hieron’s wealth without incorporating it into a complete profile of him as a ruler. In other odes (cf. e.g. Pythian 1.90–94), the right use of wealth includes spending it on appropriate (i.e. prestigious) activities and on lavishly rewarding the poets who confer upon them everlasting fame (Olympian 2.94). The same array of meanings is conveyed by Theocritus but in an elaborate manner. Ptolemy does not hoard his wealth (106–107): he spends it on dedications to the gods (108; 124–127), he benefits his friends and allied cities with it (110–111) and more importantly he uses it to reward the poets who praise him (see also below). Indeed, Theocritus praises Ptolemy as a benefactor of the poets (115–116): Μουσάων δ’ ὑποφῆται ἀείδοντι Πτολεμαῖον ἀντ’ εὐεργεσίας. The interpreters of the Muses sing of Ptolemy in return for his benefactions to them.

The social network implied in these two lines resembles in principle that of Pindar:53 the poet praises his patron for his (financial) benefactions towards him and so ensures that his laudandus’s fame (117, ὄλβιον κλέος) will remain alive when

 50 Lefkowitz 1976: 133; Vermeule 1979: 126–127, 134–136. 51 Gentili 1958: 94. 52 Hutchinson 2001 ad 61–66. For the comparison of Hieron with Croesus, see Lefkowitz 1976: 128, 134. Lines 85–92 imply that unlike Pindar Bacchylides is more interested in the immortal kleos that he can bestow on his laudandus with his poetry rather than on the prospect of Hieron’s heroization; Gentili 1958: 94. Cf. also Pindar Pyth. 3.59–62, 110–115. 53 Meincke 1965: 133.

174  Pindaric Eschatology and Inherent Excellence in Theocritus’s Idyll 17 his earthly possessions will have perished (118–120). The poetics of χάρις are developed in detail in Theocritus 16. A similar circuit is presupposed in this idyll to describe the relationship between sovereign and poets. Olympian 2 is constructed in the form of a ring-composition: the final praise of Theron (89–100) recalls the encomiastic remarks about him in the first strophe (5–11).54 As we saw, both parts are introduced by questions about the appropriate subject of praise: “what god, what hero, what mortal man shall we praise in song?” (τίνα θεόν, τίν’ ἥρωα, τίνα δ’ ἄνδρα κελαδήσομεν;) is answered by the concluding question “whom do we target shooting arrows that bring good fame?” (89–90, τίνα βάλλομεν … εὐκλέας ὀϊστοὺς ἱέντες;). A short encomium of Theron (6–7), typical in epinician discourse, follows the opening “proclamation” of the victor (5–6). Pindar calls attention to Theron’s hospitality, his wise administration of Akragas, and his illustrious pedigree (6–7). Similarly, in the end of the ode Theron is singled out among all men of the past century for being (94) “more liberal in thought [and] lavish in hand” (tr. Nisetich). The proximity of ἀφθονέστερον to μᾶλλον εὐεργέταν (94) suggests that Theron’s benefactions are mainly of a financial nature. Hence the depiction of Theron’s rule agrees with the proviso emphatically placed before the eschatological part of the ode (53–56; see above). 55 Theron’s life, as represented in Olympian 2, suggests that he experiences the greatest divine favor: he is the wealthy tyrant of a prosperous and thriving city (5–11); he makes fair and wise use of the gifts of fate (21–22); he descends from an illustrious family (21–47) and has been victorious in the most prestigious of events at the Olympic Games (48–49). Divine benevolence and support will eventually help Theron, like Heracles before him, to cross the boundary separating common men from gods and heroes. In an unusual turn of eulogistic exaggeration, Pindar gives a hyperbolic picture of Theron’s benefactions to his people (98–100): ἐπεὶ ψάμμος ἀριθμὸν περιπέφευγεν, | καὶ κεῖνος ὅσα χάρματ’ ἄλλοις ἔθηκεν, | τις ἂν φράσαι δύναιτο; (“since the grains of sand are difficult to number, who could tell of all the good deeds he has done to others?”). Similar discourse in Herodotus (1.47.2) underlines Apollo’s omniscience drawing a clear separation between gods and mortals. The analogy would imply that Theron attains a similar divine status through his benefactions.

 54 Hampe 1952: 47. 55 It would be consistent with Pindar’s encomiastic strategy to take εὐεργέταν at line 94 in connection with ὄπι δίκαιον ξένων and Theron’s other traits mentioned at line 6, a connection that reflects similar eulogistic associations in other odes of his. ὄπι in this context is problematic; for a detailed discussion see Del Grande 1956: 81–85; Catenacci 2013: 390–391 ad loc.

The Ptolemaic King as Benefactor  175

Olympian 2 implies that in the case of Theron his benefactions will guarantee for him a privileged afterlife on the Isles of the Blessed (78–80); at the same time, his people will perpetuate his memory with the foundation of a heroic cult in his honor.56 On the Isles of the Blessed, Theron will be in the company of respected heroes and demigods (70–80). Although Pindar is careful not to state explicitly that this is the fate that awaits Theron, the image of grandeur that he has cleverly composed would have lulled Theron into believing that in the other world he would be feasting alongside Achilles, Peleus and Cadmus.57

The Ptolemaic King as Benefactor Ideas such as the ones expressed in Olympian 2 attracted the interest of the Ptolemies eager as they were to further the dynastic cult and solidify the king’s public image as the fair and righteous ruler, the founder of cities, the beloved of gods; in a word, as an εὐεργέτης. In this part of the chapter, I will examine the reception of this image in Ptolemaic propaganda, as represented by Idyll 17, and evaluate the importance of Pindaric poetry for its articulation. Scholars such as Hecataeus of Abdera and perhaps Euhemerus had prepared the ground for a positive reception of such beliefs.58 Hecataeus of Abdera had presented the ancient kings of Egypt as humans who were subsequently deified thanks to their benefactions.59 With the establishment of the Ptolemaic dynasty the belief was easily applied to Greek heroes who had special Ptolemaic connections and who, according to a well-established Greek tradition, were themselves deified because of their benefactions (e.g. Heracles, Dionysus; see also above).60 Ptolemaic literature insists on the representation of the king and queen as benefactors; this explains why the term is found mainly applied to heroes who, according to philosophical speculation about the beginnings of social life, were the

 56 Note also the importance of witnesses (μάρτυρες) for the creation and preservation of good fame for Hieron in Pyth. 1.88 (πολλοὶ μάρτυρες ἀμφοτέροις πιστοί); cf. also Hubbard 1985: 159. 57 Race 1979: 257–258. 58 Euhemerus’s dates are too uncertain to allow any firm conclusions. Further, his presence in Egypt is inferred on the basis of scholarly assumptions about his influence on Hellenistic poets rather than on historical evidence; see Winiarczyk 2002: 1–10. 59 Skard 1931: 40; Murray 1970: 159–161. 60 Diodorus Siculus 1.2.4 (on Heracles), 1.20.3 (on Osiris). Οn Heracles as a model for Philip II of Macedon and Hellenistic rulers, see Kötting 1966: 850. For Diodorus’s dependence on Hecataeus’s work see n. 65 below.

176  Pindaric Eschatology and Inherent Excellence in Theocritus’s Idyll 17 founders of all social institutions.61 εὐεργέται are often said to show εὔνοια, which implies active interest in the well-being of people.62 In this light, it is hardly surprising to find Berenice I, a new goddess (Theocritus 17.50–52) and member of Aphrodite’s entourage, take an interest in human affairs, and benignly intervene to soothe the distress that love can cause;63 her εὔνοια assumes the form of being ἥπιος (“gentle”) and sending μαλακοὺς ἔρωτας (“soft loves”) and κουφὰς μερίμνας (“light worries”). Among other things, εὐεργέται were believed to have engaged in the foundation of new cities, being the first to invent something or teaching people the cultivation of the earth, the building of houses etc.64 In Hecataeus’s description of ancient Egypt, Osiris and Isis are represented as mortal sovereigns who were raised to divinity by means of their benefactions.65 On this point Egyptian ideology met with Greek philosophical and political theory; a fruitful combination ensued.66 The benefactions of royal personages were considered the reason for their deification and privileged fate in the afterlife.67 As I will show next, Idyll 17 agrees with this conceptual framework.

Ptolemy II as Benefactor in Idyll 17 Idyll 17 can be divided into four thematic units: (i) the proem (1–12), (ii) the praise of Ptolemy’s ancestors (13–70), (iii) the praise of Ptolemy’s rule (71–134), and (iv) the poet’s farewell to Ptolemy (135–137). The second section comprises the praise

 61 Kötting 1966: 851–852. Aristotle’s argument (Pol. 1286b10–12) about the priority of monarchy is characteristic: καὶ διὰ τοῦτ’ ἴσως ἐβασιλεύοντο πρότερον, ὅτι σπάνιον ἦν εὑρεῖν ἄνδρας πολὺ διαφέροντας κατ’ ἀρετήν, ἄλλως τε καὶ τότε μικρὰς οἰκοῦντας πόλεις. ἔτι δ’ ἀπ’ εὐεργεσίας καθίστασαν τοὺς βασιλεῖς, ὅπερ ἐστὶν ἔργον τῶν ἀγαθῶν ἀνδρῶν. 62 Skard 1931: 31 “Überhaupt ist wohl die εὔνοια der Götter, wovon öfter gesprochen wird, nur ein Ausdruck dafür, dass sie εὐεργεέ ται sind.” This is explicitly stated by Theocritus in 17.123–125 with regard to the cult of Ptolemy II’s parents. For a temple to Berenice mentioned by Calllixeinus, see Fraser 1972: vol. 1, 228. 63 Hunter 2003 ad loc. 64 Skard 1931: 37–39. 65 Diodorus. Siculus 1.13.1. On Osiris and Isis’s benefactions to mankind ibid. 14–21. Diodorus’s account is generally believed to be based on Hecataeus’s lost treatise on Egypt; for the vexed issue of authentic Hecataean material and interpolations by Diodorus see Murray 1970: 144–150. 66 Murray 1970: 161–162; for the problems of the source of the Hellenistic ideal of εὐεργέτης see Kötting 1966: 851–853, who is also in favor of syncretism. 67 Winiarczyk 2002: 43–50; as he puts it (136), “εὐεργεσία führe zur Deifikation, […] dies ist das allgemeine Verständnis des Euhemerismos.”

Ptolemy II as Benefactor in Idyll 17  177

of Ptolemy’s father and male ancestors (13–33), of his mother Queen Berenice I (34–57), and the scene of Ptolemy’s birth on Cos (58–70). The praise of Ptolemy’s rule opens with the idealistic representation of the country of the laudandus. Olympian 2 also opens with an idealized representation of Akragas. Similarly, Idyll 17 gives a romanticized version of the Ptolemaic realm under Philadelphus’s rule. Theocritus’s description of Egypt owes a lot to the work of Hecataeus of Abdera. True to the image that Hecataeus propagated, Theocritus places the emphasis on the prosperity of the land which is expressed, on the one hand, by the calmness and tranquility that people experience in their everyday lives (77–78; 97), and, on the other hand, by the plethora of words denoting abundance in lines 75–83. Following Egyptian traditions, the Nile is given a prominent position as the source of life and economic growth (79–80).68 Αt the same time two further reasons are added for Egypt’s prosperity: Zeus’s favor (73– 75; 78) and Ptolemy’s vigilance and unique administrative abilities.69 Ιn both respects, Ptolemy’s image resembles that of Theron in Olympian 2. As we have already seen, Theron is praised as “Akragas’s bulwark, exalter of his city” (tr. Nisetich) (7–8). Divine favor is manifested there through the good luck that follows the foundation of the new city (11–13). The importance of Zeus’s benevolence is further underlined by Pindar’s prayer that Zeus may keep Akragas safe for future generations (12–15). Theocritus’s praise of Ptolemy’s administrative skills is indeed impressive: Ptolemy protects his people from hostile neighbors and, one might add, from internal dangers (Theoc. 15.46–50) thanks not only to the organization of a reliable army and fleet, but also to his military prowess (90–94; 98–104; cf. 14.37–64).70

 68 Meincke 1965: 125; Barbantani 2010: 231. 69 For Egypt’s self-sufficiency in Hecataeus’s work see Murray 1970: 147–148, where he also discusses the possible place that the description of the Nile might have had in the original work. On the possible sources of financial and political αὐτάρκεια in Hecataeus ibid. 165–166. 70 Τhe idyll presents a consistent nexus of subtle allusions to Ptolemy’s prowess; apart from line 103, ἐνὶ πρώτοισι at line 3 is used in Homer to describe courage at war; cf. Meincke 1965: 129, M.A. Rossi 1989 ad loc., and Hamm 2009: 95n58. In lines 53–57 Ptolemy is placed in the company of great heroes such as Diomedes and Achilles, while the appearance of Zeus’s eagle at the moment of his birth recalls a similar incident in Ajax’s life in Pind. Isthm. 6.51–55. At Theoc. 16.74, Hieron is also compared to Achilles and Ajax—the mention of Achilles may also allude to his presence on the Isles of the Blessed in Ol. 2.88–91. For the king’s prowess, and especially his spear, as a standard motif of Ptolemaic propaganda, see Barbantani 2010: 235–236.

178  Pindaric Eschatology and Inherent Excellence in Theocritus’s Idyll 17 A considerable part of the praise of Ptolemy as king is concerned with his liberality and benevolence towards his people and allies. This part of the discourse is imbued with Pindaric reminiscences.71 Ptolemy is praised as a generous king who does not hoard his riches so that they give no benefit (ἀχρεῖος, 106–107) but shares them with his vassals (110), allied cities72 and comrades (111). οὐ μὰν ἀχρεῖός γε δόμωι ἐνὶ πίονι χρυσὸς μυρμάκων ἅτε πλοῦτος ἀεὶ κέχυται μογεόντων gold is not stored in the wealthly house without any use in the manner of toiling ants that constantly heap up wealth

In a similar passage, Pindar advises Chromius against keeping wealth hidden inside the house, but recommends instead its use for securing good fame through benefactions (Nemean 1.31–32): οὐκ ἔραμαι πολὺν ἐν μεγάρωι πλοῦτον κατακρύψαις ἔχειν, ἀλλ’ ἐόντων εὖ τε παθεῖν καὶ ἀκοῦσαι φίλοις ἐξαρκέων. I do not like to keep a lot of wealth hidden in the house, but to be successful making use of what I have and to enjoy a good reputation by being generous to my friends.

Some lines before Pindar praises Chromius’s liberality in arranging a dinner for himself and his hospitality towards strangers (19–24).73 Keeping one’s wealth hidden is considered a sign of φιλοκέρδεια (“love of gain”), one of the dangers against

 71 Meincke 1965: 130–131; Hunter 2003 ad 118–120. 72 Gow 1952 ad loc; Meincke 1965: 181n4. Elaborating upon the way in which εὐεργεσία functions in Hellenistic politics, Bringmann 1993a: 16–17, 1993b: 87–88 points out that φιλοδοξία became the word describing Hellenistic monarchs’ incentive in wanting to excel: benefaction brought fame, which in turn brought heroic or divine honors from states outside of Egypt. The same principle is attributed to Osiris by Diodorus (1.17.1–2) with regard to his mission to teach agriculture. The benefited city or community saw itself as bound by moral obligation to its benefactor; Bringmann 1993a: 21–24, 1993b: 93–95 offers an illuminating discussion of the impact this moral principle had on decision-making. 73 The image of hoarding one’s riches appears also in Bacchylides 3.13–14. Bacchylides, however, turns this generic image into an original one: hoarded wealth serves as a fortress, which as such is analogous to Croesus’s kingdom under siege (26–27); cf. Lefkowitz 1976: 127–129 and Hutchinson 2001 ad 13–14 with further bibliography.

Ptolemy II as Benefactor in Idyll 17  179

the detrimental effects of which Pindar constantly warns his powerful patrons. In Pythian 1, Pindar cautions Hieron not to be “deceived by cunning thrift” (tr. Nisetich): μὴ δολωθῇς, ὦ φίλε, κέρδεσιν ἐντραπέλοις· ὀπιθόμβροτον αὔχημα δόξας οἶον ἀποιχομένων ἀνδρῶν δίαιταν μανύει καὶ λογίοις καὶ ἀοιδοῖς.

(92) (92)

Do not let yourself be deceived, my friend, by shameful profit. The acclaim of fame that survives men alone reveals the kind of life that dead men led to storytellers and bards.

The rhetorical articulation of the passage throws into relief the polar antithesis between profit (κέρδος) and fame (δόξα). φιλοκέρδεια can only have negative effects on the posthumous fame of Hieron; Hieron ought to spend his wealth on benefiting his people and sponsoring poets.74 In other words, Hieron is urged to spend his money on benefactions which will secure him a positive fame (90).75 In a passage similarly occupied with the transitory condition of all mortals, Bacchylides represents Apollo pointing out to Admetus that the highest profit derives from the joy of doing what is right (3.83–84). The emphasis on liberality seems to reflect an important part of the public image of the ruler as well as of dignitaries standing high in the hierarchy of Ptolemaic court. One could compare, for instance, the emphasis on Sosibius’s benefactions to the people of Alexandria in Callimachus’s epinician for him (fr. 384.52–56 Pf.). It would seem then that court dignitaries were expected to demonstrate qualities similar to those of the king. In the short praise that Theocritus puts in Thyonichus’s mouth in Idyll 14 (61–68) Ptolemy never refuses petitions for help but spends his wealth lavishly as befits a true king (63–64): πολλοῖς πολλὰ διδούς, αἰτεύμενος οὐκ ἀνανεύων, οἷα χρὴ βασιλῆ. Many things granting to many men, without rejecting any petition, as it becomes a king.

 74 Hubbard 1985: 159. 75 On the negative connotations of κέρδος, see Hubbard 1985: 93 and Kurke’s 1991 index s.v.

180  Pindaric Eschatology and Inherent Excellence in Theocritus’s Idyll 17 The note on royal propriety regarding the king’s munificence recalls similar admonitions in Pindar’s odes (cf. Pyth. 1.90; 3.70–71). As we saw above, wealth like prowess is god-sent. It is man’s duty to make good use of it to secure the benevolence of the gods and good fame for generations to come. On the basis of these and similar passages, it appears that this happens in two ways: (i) the good report of common people that rulers can secure through benefactions; and (ii) the fame which poets can confer upon their patrons. The poetic immortality which Pindar can bestow on his patrons with his poetry is meant as a solace for the inevitable reality of death that awaits all mortal beings. In Olympian 2, this general tenet of Pindar’s ethical framework is connected with the specific demands of Theron’s propaganda. Following Pindar, Theocritus gives an account of Ptolemy’s benefactions, praising Ptolemy’s liberality towards poets who praise the monarch (111–116). As we saw, Theocritus views this also as a kind of benefaction (116). The following comment (116–120) about the transient character of all worldly possessions in contrast with everlasting kleos comes quite close to Pindaric passages such as Isthmian 1.67–69. Ptolemy’s portrait is completed with a note on his piety towards gods and his commitment to supporting various cults, among them the cult of his parents (108; 120–127).76

Conclusion It appears, then, that Theocritus is trying to create for Ptolemy the image of the optimus rex. In this he has rich Greek and Egyptian traditions on which he can rely. It has been argued above that one of his sources was the representation of Theron in Olympian 2. The connection between the two poems is suggested first by the similarity in the articulation of the opening parts of both poems and second by the similarity in the development of motifs about the liberality of the king and his fate after death. Despite the similarities in worldview the two poets share, one cannot disregard the obvious difference in tone. Pindar advises his laudandus. He addresses both Hieron and Theron as their equal imparting words of wisdom regarding the rule of their countries. On the other hand, Theocritus does not provide counsel to the king. This is a difference that we noted above with regard to Callimachus’s epinician elegies for Sosibius and Berenice. Both Callimachus and Theocritus avoid the admonitory tone of Pindar—and other archaic poets— and adopt instead a “documentary” approach. Their praise documents, reports

 76 On the other hand, his bestowal of riches on the shrines of gods reminds one of Bacchylides’s representation of Hieron’s liberality towards the oracle of Delphi (3.10–21).

Conclusion  181

what Ptolemy is already doing. Similarly, there is no sign of the indefinite first person to express the poet’s point of view. In this sense, one has to reconstruct the status of Hellenistic praise poets with regard to their patrons differently from that of Pindar or Bacchylides. They do not speak from a position of parity but from one of apparent inferiority.

Chapter 5 The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24 Introduction: the Myth in Pre-Hellenistic Poetry Theocritus’s Idyll 24, entitled Hērakliskos in our manuscripts,1 narrates a scene from Heracles’s life: his killing of the two snakes sent by Hera to devour the newborn baby. Heracles is a popular figure in Hellenistic poetry (cf. e.g. Theocritus 13, [25], Callimachus Aetia I fr. 22–25d Harder = 26–27 Massimilla, and the Victoria Berenices). His popularity could be attributed to the hero’s importance in Ptolemaic propaganda as ancestor of the royal house of Macedon.2 As far as we can tell, this mythological episode had been treated in poetry before Theocritus only by Pindar who, along with some contemporary depictions on Attic red-figure vases and Pherecydes,3 is also our earliest source.4 Pindar recounts this miraculous exploit twice: in Nemean 1 (476 BCE?), addressed to Hieron’s general, Chromius, and in a fragment (fr. 52u Sn.-M. [= POxy. 2442 fr. 32 col. i]), which probably derives from a προσόδιον.5 Still, one lacks more information concerning this myth’s wider presence, if there was any, in classical literature.6 Despite our fragmented perception of the literary (and cultural) history of the myth, it is to be  1 In the Antinoë Papyrus the poem bears the inscription Ἡρακλίσκος Δωρίδι. On the titles of Theocritus’s idylls see Gow 1952: vol. 1, lxix–lxx. 2 See also the so-called Adulis Inscription of Ptolemy III (OGIS 54.4–5 [= Kosmas Ind., Topogr. Chr. 2.58-9]); cf. Tondriau 1950: 397–398. One should also take into account the artistic representations of reigning Ptolemies as Heracles, especially on coins; see Tondriau 1950: 404–405 and Palagia 1986: 142–144. On the bronze statuettes representing Ptolemy II Philadelphus as Herakliskos killing the snakes, see Laubscher 1997 and below. 3 Frr. 13b–c + 69a–b Fowler. Pherecydes’s account differs considerably from that of Pindar: frr. 69 a–b Fowler suggest that it was Amphitryon, not Hera, who sent the snakes so as to check whether Heracles was really his son or Zeus’s. 4 The earliest representations come from Athens and generally date from the early fifth century; on the whole see Woodford LIMC IV.1: 831. For the possibility that these representations reflect the popularity of Pindar’s first Nemean ode, see Moret 1998: 90 and below. This episode was also the theme of a lost painting by Zeuxis (Pliny, Nat. 35.63). 5 In the most recent editions of Snell-Maehler and Race the fragment is placed among the Paeans. This classification has been brought into question by D’Alessio 1997: 37 and Rutherford 2001: 401–406, who have proposed instead that the fragment derives from a prosodion. For prosodia, see Färber 1936: 30–31 and R.L. Fowler 1987: 93. 6 Farnell 1932: 247 ad 33–59. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-006

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expected that any educated reader, let alone an erudite Hellenistic poet, would connect Theocritus’s idyll with Pindar’s versions.7 Furthermore, if Pindar was the first poet ever to deal with this episode, as, for instance, Farnell (1930: 161) assumes, Hellenistic poets would have assigned to Pindar’s versions a canonical status and could have hardly ignored them in their reworking of the same myth.8 Yet we have only slight evidence that would suggest that Pindar was the first to treat this episode: (i) the short-lived interest that Athenian vase painters showed in this episode in the first half of the fifth century roughly at the same time as Pindar’s versions were written and (ii) Pindar’s not very helpful testimony. All that Pindar says is that the myth is an “old story” (35, ἀρχαῖος λόγος). λόγος, a common enough word in Pindar, is usually understood here to mean a “fabula mythologica et poetica” which has been preserved in the collective memory of the community.9 On the other hand, ἀρχαῖος emphasizes the antiquity of the story. Difficulties arise when one considers this not as a statement of fact but rather as an attempt on Pindar’s part to envelop his myth, not represented in lyric poetry before, with the authority that only tradition can bestow.10

 7 However, and this needs to be stressed, this connection reflects only a part of the possible intertextual associations that ancient readers would make while reading Theocritus’s poem. Luz 2012 and Foster 2016: 151–187 discuss the intertextual connection between Nemean 1 and Idyll 24. 8 Effe 1980: 162.  Rumpel 1883: s.v. 3. In other passages, Pindar employs logos to distinguish between poetic and prose discourses: in Nemean 6 (30), Pindar draws a distinction between poems and λόγοι which here refer to tales or stories found in prose chronicles (cf. LSJ9 s.v. λόγιος Α. Ι.; Rumpel 1883, Slater 1969 s.v., and Σ ad Ol. 7.100a–1 and ad Nem. 6.50) and possibly not treated in poetry before—although this is never explicitly spelled out in our sources. The same distinction appears again in Pythian 1.92–94; cf Σ ad Pyth. 1.181b. See also Fritz 1967: vol. 2, 343 and Loscalzo 2003: 78 with n. 167. 10 Foster 2016: 161. In Ol. 7.55 Pindar refers to the myth of the creation of Rhodos as παλαιαί ῥήσιες ἀνθρώπων. Σ ad Ol. 7.101 notes that the story is not found before Pindar. Verdenius 1987 ad loc. argues that this is an attempt on Pindar’s part to disguise his invention of the story; cf. Lehnus (1981) ad loc.; differently Farnell 1932 ad loc. On the other hand, Tlepolemos’s colonization of the island is narrated in Il. 2.657–670. It is unclear if this could suggest by analogy that Pindar came up with the myth of Nemean 1 as well. In the Iliad, Heracles is the son of Zeus (14.323; 19.95–133), although he is once called κρατερὸς πάϊς Ἀμφιτρύωνος (5.392; cf. Od. 11.270). Il. 19.95–133 tells of his birth but does not include the story of the two snakes. Generally, most of Pindar’s myths about Heracles can also be found in the Iliad: M.L. West 2011a: 30–32.

184  The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24

The Two Pindaric Versions Pindar deals with Heracles’s first miraculous exploit in at least two poems: Nemean 1 and fr. 52u Sn.-M. The examination of the exact relationship between the two poems is beset with numerous problems which to a certain degree arise from the fragmentary status of the latter. Although textual correspondences indicate that there is a connection between the two versions (on which see below), one is unable to ascertain the priority of one poem over the other and so establish the direction of the allusions. Furthermore, our ignorance of the genre and consequently of the intended audience of fr. 52u Sn.-M. deprives us of crucial points for the appreciation of the form that the myth assumes in this literary version.11 As fr. 52u Sn.-M. stands now, the narrative sets in quite quickly.12 One cannot determine the number of lines that have gone missing from the beginning of the poem. Line 4 (Ἀλκαΐδα) refers to Heracles (cf. Olympian 6.68, Ἡρακλέης, σεμνὸν θάλος Ἀλκαϊδᾶν with Σ d Ol. 6.115). Fr. 291 Sn.-M. [= Probus ad Verg. Ecl. 7.61] could also belong here: Pindarus initio Alcidem nominatum postea Herculem dicit ab Hera …, quod eius imperiis opinionem famamque virtutis sit consecutus. Pindar reports that although he was originally called Alcides Heracles was later named after Hera … because under her control he acquired his good reputation and fame of prowess.

Fr. 52u Sn.-M. is the only case in which Pindar uses this patronymic for Heracles in the context of a myth dealing exclusively with him. If this version included Heracles’s ascension to Olympus, Probus’s note would fit the context nicely.13 The (etymological) association of Heracles’s name with Hera is usually situated at a different time in the narrative, after the killing of his children.14 Diodorus Siculus (4.10.1) discusses the change of Heracles’s name in the context of the myth of the two snakes but stresses the Argive origin of this appellation. It could be that Pindar’s poem reflects a similar version. If so, the poem could have been performed at Argos at the festival in honor of Hera.15  11 D’Alessio 1997: 36. 12 Some scholars maintain that fr. 52s Sn.-M. (Pae. 18) is the beginning of our poem; cf. Rutherford 2001: 402. This has been rejected by D’Alessio 1997: 41–43 on paleographical grounds. 13 For the mention of Hera at this point, cf. Nem. 1.69–75, Isthm. 4.73–78, and Theoc. 24.169 (βοώπιδα), on which see below. 14 Apollod. 2.73.3; Et. Gud. s.v. Ἡρακλῆς. 15 For a similar suggestion, see D’Alessio 2004: 114–115; for the cult of Hera at Argos see Farnell 1896–1909: vol. 2, 186–188.

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Dionysus of Halicarnassus (Ant. Rom. 1.21) talks about choruses of young women praising the goddess with hymns in her honor, and there is a similar reference in Euripides’s Electra (171–180).16 Fr. 52u Sn.-M. could have been performed by a chorus of Argive maidens. Although both of Heracles’s parents were of Argive descent (cf. Pind. Pyth. 9.81–83), he was inserted in Argive mythology at a later date. He is more at home at Tiryns, and this has led Barbara Kowalzig (2007: 172–173) to suggest a connection of fr. 52u Sn.-M. with the Tirynthian cult of Heracles. On the other hand, Schachter (1986: s.v. HERAKLES [Thebes]) connects the episode as depicted in Nemean 1 with Thebes and the Herakleia festival. In Thebes, Heracles took the place of a young champion at the head of a group of warriors. This explains the emphasis on his representation as an infant or an adolescent on Theban coins17 and the presence of Theban chieftains in Nemean 1.51 and 63 (see below). Since fr. 52v Sn.-M. deals with Hera, the order of the poems on the papyrus could indicate that frr. 52u and 52v Sn.-M. were ordered after their titles—an ode for Heracles (fr. 52u Sn.-M.) was followed by an ode for Hera (fr. 52v Sn.-M.)—or rather both songs were dedicated to Hera.18 Her title in this poem’s refrain (βασίλεια) reflects one of her cult epithets in Argos, Lebadea and Pisidia (IG 7.3097; 9.1)19 and could suggest Argos as the place of performance for fr. 52u Sn.-M.20 The association of the Ptolemaic dynasty with both Argos and Heracles could then contextualize the importance of Pindar’s version for Hellenistic poets. Line 6 (μορ]μορ̣̣ύξιας) introduces us directly to the “nursery room” and helps to set up a homely atmosphere for the description of the heroic exploit. In this respect, this version seems to have diverged from that offered in Nemean 1 and to come closer to that of Theocritus, which is richer in realistic details, such as the bathing of the babies, Alcmene’s putting them to sleep, and the rocking of the shield. On the whole, it would seem that the poet does not devote much space to the killing per se (cf. also Nemean 1.43–47), which in this version must have taken up no more than three lines (10–13). Still, it is impossible to know whether this scene is supposed to lead to the succinct description of Heracles’s future career and deification as in the other two poems.21  16 Denniston 1939 and Cropp 2013 ad loc. 17 Woodford 1983: 123–125. 18 D’Alessio 2004: 114. 19 Farnell 1896–1909: vol. 2, 188 with n. a and Schachter s.v. HERA (Lebadeia); see, however, Phoronis fr. 4 Bernabé; Nem. 1.39; and the h.Jun. (12).2. Cf. Allen, Halliday, and Sikes 1936 and Càssola 1975 ad loc. 20 See the discussion of D’Alessio 2004: 115–121. Kowalzig 2007: 173–177 argues in favor of Tiryns. 21 Bona 1988: 285.

186  The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24 Moving to Nemean 1, one notes that Pindar again avoids a detailed depiction of the actual fight and presents the whole affair in four rapidly changing pictures:22 i) ὁ δ’ ὀρθὸν μὲν ἄντεινεν κάρα (43); ii) πειρᾶτο δὲ πρῶτον μάχας (43); iii) δισσαῖσι δοιοὺς αὐχένων | μάρψαις ἀφύκτοις χερσὶν ἑαῖς ὄφιας (43–44); iv) ἀγχομένοις δὲ χρόνος | ψυχὰς ἀπέπνευσεν μελέων ἀφάτων (46–47). The narration of the central scene extends into just five lines (40–45). The rapidity of the two narratives apart, the two Pindaric versions seem to have some linguistic details in common.23 For example, ὁ δ’ ἀντίον ἀνὰ κάρα τ’ ἄειρ[ε at fr. 52u.10 looks quite close to Nemean. 1.44 (ὁ δ’ ὀρθὸν μὲν ἄντεινεν κάρα). The rest of the similarities are more general. Fr. 25u.11–12 ( +5] χειρὶ μελέων ἄπο ποικίλον | σπά]ρ̣γανον ἔρριψεν ἑάν τ’ ἔφανεν φυ̣άν) provides the description of the battle and so corresponds to Nemean 1.43–44, while fr. 25u.13 (+4] ὀμμ]άτων ἄπο σέλας ἐδίνασεν) gives the reason for Alcmene’s awakening and intervention, an element missing from Nemean 1, but present in Theocritus 24.18–19. In fr. 52u Sn.-M. Pindar avoids a detailed description of the killing altogether and instead alludes to it with the phrase ἑάν τ’ ἔφανεν φυ̣άν (“he revealed his true nature”) as if this were enough to alert the audience to the outcome of the confrontation. The phrase is analogous to Nemean 1.43 (πειρᾶτο δὲ πρῶτον μάχας), but there is a difference in its function within the overall structure of the poem. In fr. 52u Sn.-M., this phrase could indicate that the mythological narrative serves to reveal Heracles’s true parentage. The mythological pattern underlying this narrative structure is well-known and quite popular in Greek myth. In the Victoria Berenices Heracles points out to Molorcus that by killing the lion he will demonstrate that he is truly Zeus’s son (fr. 54e. 10 Harder). On the other hand, in Nemean 1 the narrator does not reveal the telos of his myth but lets the audience come to it through the structure of his ode. To be more specific, in Nemean 1 lines 33–34 enable the transition between the first part of the ode, which deals with Hieron’s policy in Sicily (1–18) and with the praise of the victor Chromius (19–32), to the second part, which narrates Heracles’s heroic exploit(s). At the same time, the narrator specifies the ideological goal that he hopes to achieve with his story: “But when I move among the heights of triumph, Heracles comes to mind” (tr. Nisetich). Heracles is the pinnacle of excellence and as such functions as the ap-

 22 Foster 2016: 153. On the rapidity of Pindar’s narrative see Cusset 1999: 358 and Otto 2009: 138–139. Rapidity (γοργότης; cf. Eust. Proem. ad Pind. 8) or brevity (συντομία; cf. Σ ad Pyth. 4.400, 442) was considered a hallmark of Pindar’s (narrative) style by ancient scholars; see esp. Negri 1997: 99–100. 23 Bona 1988: 285.

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propriate foil to the laudandus. There is no need for us to get into the vexed question of the reasons that led Pindar to choose this specific exploit and not some other, a problem which, after all, does not affect the intertextual connection with Idyll 24. Nonetheless, the adverb πρῶτον (“for the first time”) at line 43 prefigures24 for baby Heracles a series of other battles (61–69) in which the adult Heracles will repeatedly demonstrate his ἀρετή until he finally reaches Olympus (70– 73). The episode with the snakes, although it assumes prominence of place as the ode’s central myth, is nonetheless embedded in a summary of Heracles’s heroic career which serves to depict a heroic life permeated by the aristocratic idea of virtue.25 In this respect, the aim of the narrative section in fr.52u Sn.-M. is similar to that of Nemean 1—that is, to illustrate Heracles’s divine parentage and through that the aristocratic notion of hereditary excellence and ἀρετή.26 In Nemean 1, and presumably also in fr. 52u Sn.-M., this is made clear by the frame of the myth.27 It remains unclear, however, within what (cultic or performative) context this is attempted in the case of fr. 52u Sn.-M. On the other hand, in Theocritus’s poem the myth is told “for its own sake,” without any explicitly stated goal that could have been indicated, for example, in a frame, as happens in Idylls 11 and 13.28 As a matter of fact, the possible connection of the myth with Ptolemaic discourse29 can only be inferred on the basis of allusions provided by other poems in the corpus concerning the role of Heracles in Ptolemaic discourse, as for instance in Theocritus 17.26–27: ἄμφω γὰρ πρόγονός σφιν ὁ καρτερὸς Ἡρακλείδας, ἀμφότεροι δ’ ἀριθμεῦνται ἐς ἔσχατον Ἡρακλῆα. The mighty son of Heracles is the ancestor of both, and both trace their family line back in the end to Heracles

 24 At this point, the narrator’s voice assumes a prophetic tone, which connects it with the explicitly prophetic voice of Teiresias and so reinforces the parallelism between the role of the poet and the seer (on which see below). 25 Galinsky 1952: 35–36; Effe 1980: 149; Carey 1981: 129. 26 Privitera 1972: 43–48, P.W. Rose 1974: 175, and Nieta Hérnandez 1993: 90. For the idea of Heracles’s career in Nemean 1 and its applicability to Chromius see Farnell 1932: 160 and esp. P.W. Rose 1974: 155–156. 27 Privitera 1972: 43. 28 Cusset 1999: 376. 29 Hunter 1996: 12; Stephens 2018b: 67. Foster 2016: 165 finds such hints in lines 103–133: Heracles’s training is typical of a Macedonian elite.

188  The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24 To this evidence one should also add two bronze statuettes from Hellenistic times representing Ptolemy II as the infant Heracles strangling the snakes.30 Both statuettes are dated approximately to the third or second centuries BCE, although their original supposedly dates from the period of Philadelphus’s co-regency (285–283 BCE). According to Laubscher (1997: 158), these miniatures are probably modeled after monumental statues which supported Philadelphus’s claims as the rightful successor of Ptolemy Soter against his half-brother Ptolemy Keraunos. If one is allowed to use this piece of Ptolemaic discourse to elucidate some aspects of the mythological imagery in Idyll 24, the Pindaric notion of φυά (“inherent excellence”) could helpfully support Ptolemaic imagery. This explanation accounts for the connection between Theocritus’s poem and both Pindaric accounts.31 Scholars interested in the Egyptian background of Theocritus’s poem interpret the choice of this myth as a reflection of pharaonic ideology. In this reading the poem is believed to have been performed on the occasion of Ptolemy II’s proclamation as coregent (285 or 284 BCE) or generally quite early in his reign. For Koenen (1977: 82), the myth alludes to a piece of pharaonic tradition: the new king is considered the reincarnation of the previous king and the true son of the highest god (i.e. Zeus). Building upon this interpretation, Stephens (2003: 132– 142) points out that the enthronement of the new king is a crucial moment for the the safety and stability of his realm.32 Accordingly, the episode of Heracles’s throttling Hera’s snakes reflects the incessant battle between the forces of light and order against darkness and chaos, exemplified in the mythological combat of Horus and Seth. The myth of Theocritus 24, then, suggests the new king’s victory over the powers of anarchy and chaos symbolized here by the snakes of Hera. Similar mythemes articulate other court poems such as Hymn 4 of Callimachus and his Victoria Berenices. It is quite likely therefore that all these poems agree in representing a hellenicized version of pharaonic ideology about the king and his public role. Nemean 1 throws into relief the idea of Heracles’s virtuous endurance and heroic consistency throughout his mortal life. As such Nemean 1 suggests Heracles as the role model for any decent aristocrat with political aspirations such as

 30 Laubscher 1997: 155–158. 31 Hunter 1996: 26–27. For φυά in Pindar’s epinician odes see Marg 1938: 87–99. 32 Cf. Sowa 1984: 24 on the importance of the “Succession Myth” (ibid 23). For the important role that such myths play in Ptolemaic propaganda, see also Barbantani 2010: 244–245.

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Chromius.33 On the other hand, fr. 52u Sn.-M. focuses directly on the idea of Heracles’s divine origin, something further highlighted by the prominent absence of his mortal father, Amphitryon. Line 9 describes the ominous movement of the two snakes towards Heracles, who is explicitly said to be “the child of Zeus the king of heaven” (ἐπὶ βρέφος οὐρανίου Διός). The unequivocal declaration of the hero’s parentage in this context is at odds with the amount of genealogical information one receives at the analogous point in the narrative of the other two versions. At Nemean 1.42, Pindar speaks generally of both infants without specifying their parentage. Line 35 (ἐπεὶ σπλάγχνων ὕπο ματέρος αὐτίκα θαητὰν ἐς αἴγλαν παῖς Διός … μόλεν) had already specified Heracles’s parentage so that there was no need for Pindar to repeat it. On the other hand, although he uses the same word as fr. 52u.9 Sn.-M. (βρέφος), Theocritus avoids naming Zeus (24.16). Still, Theocritus alludes to Zeus’s fatherhood at line 21 through Zeus’s interest in the well-being of the two babies.34 Fr. 52u Sn.-M. and Theocritus agree in presenting Heracles alone as the target of the two snakes, while Nemean 1 brings Iphicles into the picture as well by the use of the plural τέκνοισιν. In fr. 52u Sn.-M., the genitive Διός at line 9 is balanced by the genitive Ἀμφιτρύωνος at line 16.35 In a sense, although the fragmentariness of the poem may be misleading, Amphitryon seems to be absent from the scene altogether, and to appear obliquely only as the master of the house which shelters the child of Zeus—as we are going to see shortly, this was an element that Theocritus chose to preserve in his version as well. Another indirect reference to Amphitryon is found in the presentation of the chorus of ἀμφίπολοι (“handmaids”) at fr. 52u.19 Sn.-M. Pindar specifies that the women came from Kephallene (19) probably as spoils of war from Amphitryon’s expedition against Pterelaos, a detail altogether absent from Nemean 1.48–49 but present in Idyll 24 (5, ἀπεσκύλευσε).36 Theocritus does not offer anything of this

 33 Leutsch 1859: 55; Privitera 1972: 32; Carey 1981: 129; Braswell 1998: 30–31. According to the ancient scholia (ad 49c), Aristarchus believed that the primary function of the myth was to stress the idea of inborn excellence as opposed to learning by teaching (ἀεὶ ὁ Πίνδαρος ἐπαινεῖ τοὺς φύσει μᾶλλον τῶν ἐκ διδαχῆς περιγινομένων). For possible echoes of such concerns in Theocritus 24, see below. 34 Horstmann 1976: 62. 35 For similar structural games cf. Isthm. 6.30 (Ἀλκμήνας τέκος) ~ 35 (Ἡρακλέης) ~ 38 (Ἀμφιτρυωνιάδαν) with Bury 1892 ad Isthm. 5.38: “observe that names of Heracles are placed three times in emphatic position at the end of the clauses.” Hubbard (1983: 56) offers an interesting discussion of Ampitryon’s role seen from the angle of the oikeion / allotrion contrast. 36 Cf. also the fragmentary scholium in the intercolumnar space between frr. 52u–v Sn.-M. on POxy. 2442 (ἡ Κεφαλλή(νη) πρότερ[ον τοῦ Ἀμφιτρύω(νος) Δουλίχιο(ν) ἐκαλεῖτο· ἦν δ’ ὑπὸ τὸν

190  The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24 sort, but he still alludes to this expedition in the first line of his poem through the mention of the shield in which Alcmene put her babies to sleep (24.4–5). In comparison with Nemean 1.51–4, then, where Amphitryon retains something of his heroic grandeur, these are the only indications of heroism that fr. 52u Sn.-M. and Idyll 24 allow their Amphitryon, who is relegated to a secondary position, if he is not absent entirely from the scene. Still, it is this element of heroism which adds another dimension to these lines: Amphitryon’s absence during this expedition gave Zeus the opportunity to visit Alcmene in his guise (cf. Apollodorus 2.61). In this regard, the allusion to the expedition against the Taphians in fr. 52u Sn.-M. squares nicely with the overall idea of Zeus’s parentage of the precocious child. Amphitryon’s absence repeats his absence during the night Heracles was conceived and so allows the divine infant to prove his true descent. In Idyll 24, however, the allusion to the Taphians contributes to the comic character of the introductory scene: together with line 21 it suggests to the alert reader the version avoided.37 It is only at the end of the poem with Heracles’s ascension to Olympus that Heracles’s divine descent is truly revealed.38 In fr. 52u Sn.-M., the absence of Amphitryon, although not at all certain, could have something to do with the internal audience that Pindar chose for his mythological feat. In both Pindaric versions, the narrative seems to be occupied more with the aftermath of the exploit than with the exploit itself. Pindar is primarily interested in the description of the way in which an internal audience reacts to the miraculous event. In both versions, this audience consists of three parties: Heracles’s immediate family (Alcmene and Amphitryon), the maids of Alcmene (absent in Theocritus’s version), and a third party, which may assume different forms. In Nemean 1 this is “the leaders of the Thebans” (51, Καδμείων ἀγοί), while in Idyll 24 it is the household servants (53). Fr. 52u Sn.-M., at least as far as we can tell on our present evidence, omits this third group altogether. Attic vases adhere in principle to this schema. With the exception of Athena, who may

 Πτερέλαον· ἀ(πὸ) δ(ὲ) Κεφάλ(ου) τὴν προσηγορίαν ἔσχ[εν]: text according to Rutherford’s 2001 edition). 37 F. Griffiths 1979: 96, Stephens 2003: 128. Gutzwiller (1981: 14) points out that, by leaving out the information about Zeus’s parentage of Heracles, Theocritus undercuts the glory of the hero, a standard motif in Greek hymns. For the poem’s generic identity, see below. 38 Cf. F. Griffiths 1979: 54. On the whole, all three literary versions agree with the pictorial representation on most Attic vases. With the notable exception of the hydria in the Metropolitan Museum in New York (ARV2 1110.41), on which Amphitryon is depicted approaching with drawn sword the κλίνη where the babies lie, in all other cases Amphitryon is placed at the farthest right or left edge of the scene as a witness behind Athena.

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be an addition of the painters,39 on the Louvre stamnos (ARV2 208.160) and the Leipzig cup (ARV2 559.151) the scene includes a female figure at the farthest left edge of the scene, so as to balance Amphitryon who stands at the opposite side. If the painters had Pindar’s versions in mind, this woman could be one of Alcmene’s maids. The presence of an internal audience is a textual maneuver that enables the Pindaric narrator to explore the emotional reactions that Heracles’s victory over the snakes causes to the onlookers. One could compare Apollo’s amazement at Cyrene’s wrestle with the lion (Pythian 9), Artemis and Athena’s bewilderment at young Achilles’s prowess (Nemean 3), or the amazement that Jason causes to those who set eyes on him (Pythian 4). All these episodes parallel scenes in which Pindar represents the amazement that the victor causes to the audience and even himself. Nemean 1.46–54 offer the clearest example of the way in which Pindar treats the emotional response of all these groups. The reaction of both parents stands out against, and at least in the case of Alcmene contrasts with, the background provided by the behavior of their respective supporting choruses, the maids (48– 49, ἐκ δ’ ἄρ’ ἄτλατον δέος | πλᾶξε γυναῖκας, “insufferable fear | struck the women”) and soldiers. At the same time, the reaction or even the self-sacrifice of Alcmene (50) is juxtaposed with the awe of Amphitryon, who remains passive and does not get involved in the action (55–56, ἔστα δὲ θάμβει δυσφόρωι | τερπνῶι τε μιχθείς, “he stood overcome by amazement both painful | and delightful).” Amphitryon is alert to the divine implications of the scene he is witnessing.40 His stupefaction is rhetorically and contextually cogent as it indicates the divine origins of Heracles. It further implies that by analogy the moment of victory is the only moment when the victor comes the closest to the immortal condition. Pindar’s insistence on the aftermath of Heracles’s exploit parallels his interest in the significance that the victory has for the athlete’s life and his community rather than in the description of the victory itself. Pindar avoids dwelling on the details of the killing of the dragons in the same way he avoids details of the laudandus’s victory. Instead he offers a complicated emotional portrait of the reactions of the audience, which, to a certain degree, parallels the way in which Chromius’s fellow citizens should have accepted his victory. At the same time, the diversity of feelings about the incident suggests that the event is complicated and eludes the clear understanding of the bystanders. As lines 58–59 indicate, it is only through Teiresias’s prophecy, addressed to all the male citizens of Thebes (61), that people become able to comprehend the true nature of the miraculous  39 More 1998: 89; Woodford LIMC IV.1 p. 831. 40 For these implications of θάμβος, see Kampakoglou 2018: 119–121.

192  The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24 event. The fact that men assume narrative primacy over women as the audience of Teiresias reflects genre demands and the context of performance of the ode (cf. 19–21). Furthermore, Pindar’s position qua epinician poet is analogous or homologous to that of Teiresias: Teiresias reveals the true nature of Heracles’s first exploit by contextualizing it in a description of his heroic career (61–75).41 In a similar manner Pindar reveals and interprets the importance of Chromius’s victory by placing it within the context of Hieron’s colonial propaganda (6–18) and the epinician discourse of the comparison with the paradigm of human ἀρετή, Heracles.42 Both Pindar and Teiresias function within a sex-segregated and predominantly male context of performance. In this way, Pindar manages to endow his epinician discourse with a semantic depth, which seems to be absent from fr. 52u Sn.-M. and Idyll 24—although one should mention again that in the case of fr. 52u Sn.-M. this is due to our ignorance of the respective generic context. In its present condition fr. 52u Sn.-M. does not specify whether Amphitryon or any other man was mentioned. The only persons whose presence we can make out from the fragmentary lines are Alcmene and her maids. On the whole, the emotional reaction of the women is similar to that in Nemean 1: Alcmene is said to leap from her bed in fear (15) in order to rescue her son while the maids flee in terror (17). The representation of Alcmene’s reaction on red-figure Attic vases differs from both Pindaric versions. On the Perugia crater (ARV2 516), the Leipzig cup (ARV2 559.151) and the New York hydria (ARV2 1110. 41) Alcmene is usually identified with a frightened woman who tries to flee. She assumes the role that Pindar assigns to her maids. This discrepancy in the depiction of Alcmene could speak against the hypothesis of Pindaric influence. Still, Amphitryon’s reaction on the New York hydria is probably modeled on Nemean 1 (52–53, ἐν χερὶ δ’ Ἀμφιτρύων κολεοῦ γυμνὸν τινάσσων | ἵκετο, “Amphitryon arrived brandishing in his hand his unsheathed sword.”). On the other hand, the Louvre stamnos (ARV2 208.160) represents Alcmene taking frightened Iphicles in her arms. This detail appears again in Idyll 24 (60–61), and it is likely that Theocritus knew similar representations. After all, Theocritus’s representation of Amphitryon charging into the nursery with his sword drawn picks up a detail found both οn the  41 Hubbard 1985: 51, 56; Otto 2009: 144–145; Foster 2016: 162–164. 42 The idea of an analogy between Teiresias and Pindar can be found already in Bury 1890: 6; cf. also Fraccaroli 1894: 527–528, Privitera 1972: 50, and Petrucione 1986: 43–44. The analogy between prophetic and epinician discourse is found again in the roughly contemporary Isthmian 6 (480 BCE). Heracles’s prophecy (51–54; note ἅτε μάντις ἀνήρ at line 51) stands for Pindar and his song; cf. Slater 1984: 255 and Nieto Hernández 1993: 93–94. Hubbard 1985: 56 locates a similar analogy in Nem. 1.72 (αἰνήσειν νόμον): just as Pindar praised his host, Chromius, Heracles praises his father / host, Zeus. For the possibility of a similar mention in fr.52u Sn.-M., see below.

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New York hydria and in Nemean 1.52–53 and so could strengthen the impression of his acquaintance with similar artistic representations. Unfortunately, one is unable to ascertain the way in which this scene was contextualized within the structure of fr. 52u Sn.-M. Still, in both poems Pindar oscillates between the two poles represented by male and female interior audiences. If that should be the case, the narrative prominence or exclusivity of women in fr. 52u Sn.-M. could be related with the cultic context of performance of the original poem, especially if the poem was performed by a chorus of maidens at the Argive Heraia as suggested above. The same interpretation holds true for Theocritus’s version, which, on the whole, could be said to stay clear of Pindar’s heroic elements and give the emphasis instead to his mother Alcmene (see below), but for different reasons.

The Theocritean Version Theocritus’s version bears the hallmarks of the Hellenistic penchant for realistic depictions. This is a tendency one finds fully developed in some of his other Idylls (e.g. 2, 14, 15) which come closer to the tradition of the mime, a genre popular with Hellenistic audiences. Two characteristic alterations that Theocritus introduces towards this direction are first the introductory scene, in which Alcmene puts her babies to bed, and secondly the scene of the couple jumping from their bed half-asleep. Both scenes, and especially the second, as scholars have pointed out, come closer in tone to comedy than archaic lyric.43 Theocritus appears to elaborate on those points in the mythological narrative that Pindar leaves blank or blurred in one or both of his versions.44 So, in view of the details one can make out in fr. 52u Sn.-M., Theocritus constructs his version mainly from the homely details he finds in that poem. Seen from this angle, the embedding of a lullaby, a subliterary genre not well-represented in Greek “high” literature,45 tallies with

 43 Effe 1980: 162; Gutzwiller 1981: 16–18; Stephens 2018b: 67. 44 Otto 2009: 157, 170. 45 On Greek lullabies see Wærn 1960 and Lambin 1992: 16–17. The only known specimens of this subliterary genre are inscribed in other genres; cf. Wærn 1960: 2. In Simonides’s Danaë (fr. 271 Poltera), the lullaby is inscribed in a lyric poem of unknown genre; cf. Hutchinson 2001: 306–307 and Poltera 2008: 498. Another example is Euripides Hypisipyle fr. 752f.11–13 Kannicht; cf. also Aristophanes Frogs 1305–1307 with Stanford 1958 ad loc. For some other examples see Wærn 1960: 4–5. If Simonides fr. 271.21 Poltera is modeled on Alcman PMGF 89 perhaps this too came from a lullaby; see, however, Calame 1983 ad fr. 159. Foster 2016: 171 discusses the significance of Alcmene’s lullaby for Theocritus’s take on the myth.

194  The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24 the general interest which Theocritus, and Hellenistic poets in general, show for the resurrection of marginal lyric genres—cf. e.g. the magical incantation of Simaitha in Idyll 2, the reaper’s song in Idyll 10, the hymn to Adonis in Idyll 15, and the epithalamion in Idyll 18.46 In Idyll 24, the commotion caused in the household by the miraculous event has been brought down to the level of popular mime: all participants and especially Amphitryon are deprived of their heroic credentials.47 In both versions, Pindar avoids dialogues and banal details about household proceedings, elements, on the whole, foreign to his poetic vocation and genre. It is at this point that Theocritus sees the potential to develop a genuinely Hellenistic scene.48 But even in the case of scenes which appear in Pindar’s poems, like the strangling of the snakes and Teiresias’s prophecy, Theocritus’s version bespeaks the Hellenistic interest in marginal details, realism and thoroughness. Generally speaking, Theocritus seems indifferent to the symbolic (and quasi-religious) meaning that these scenes acquire within the ideological world represented in Pindar’s odes. For instance, he is not interested in the way in which Heracles’s ἆθλος reveals his true pedigree or foretells a glorious and heroic future, nor in the way in which these can work within the context of, or furnish support for, aristocratic ideology. Theocritus gives us an unpretentious mythological narrative, which acquires an extra layer of meaning only if we read it in the context of Ptolemaic propaganda. Where Pindar sees higher powers at work, Theocritus sees a first-class opportunity for a realistic scene of combat: Theocritus focuses on the description of the killing, while Pindar focuses on its interpretation. Theocritus’s tendency with regard to this episode agrees with his representation of the boxing match between Polydeuces and Amycus in the first part of Idyll 22. The detailed emphasis on the representation of such combats relates to the Ptolemaic appropriation of pharaonic imagery: the king or his literary foils should be seen as being victorious over forces of unlawfulness or chaos. In this respect, even the prophecy of Teiresias, a motif that Theocritus retains in his poem, loses much of the symbolic meaning it acquires in Pindar’s ode.49 Theocritus’s Teiresias, especially in the second half of his speech (88–100), does not resemble the authorita-

 46 For the inscription of subliterary genres in Theocritus’s idylls see esp. Dover 1971: lxii and L.E. Rossi 1971: 85. 47 Galinsky 1952: 116–117; Horstmann 1976: 70–71; Bona 1988: 287. 48 Gutzwiller 1981: 10; Foster 2016: 165–187. 49 Horstmann 1976: 68.

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tive figure that Pindar suggests, but rather a Hellenistic magician, similar to Simaitha and the Assyrian wizard at Theocritus 2.162.50 This difference in ideological purport is also suggested by the catalogue of Heracles’s educators that Theocritus gives in his version. The following section concentrates on the function that this element serves within the idyll and tries to establish its connection with Pindar’s poetry.

The Catalogue of Heracles’s Educators The catalogue of Heracles’s educators seems to be Theocritus’s innovation. It emphasizes the differences in the cultural and political ambiences which fostered the creation of the two versions: catalogues become extremely popular with Hellenistic authors, if one may judge from their frequent appearance in their poems.51 The catalogue assumes the form of a recherché résumé of material culled from mythological or epic sources and represents Heracles as the ideal hero competent both in letters and in physical exercise. The inclusion of the catalogue of Heracles’s trainers should be associated first with the hymnic form that Idyll 24 explicitly assumes towards its end as the eulogy (aretalogia) of the god praised (i.e. Heracles) and second with the Pindaric juxtaposition of inherent prowess with learning through teaching that permeates this part of Theocritus’s poem. A marginal scholion on the Antinoë papyrus suggests that Idyll 24 was meant for performance or perhaps recitation in some contest, quite likely under Ptolemaic aegis: ἐγὼ ὁ φθαρτὸς ποιητ(ὴς) κελεύω τῶ‹ι› Ἡρακλεῖ ̣ ̣ θ̣εῶ ̣ ι̣ ἐναλλασσόμενος κ(αὶ) ἐκ διαδοχ(ῆς) νικήσας 5 δικαίως ποιησ( ) κ(αὶ) τὸν ποιητ(ὴν) π̣ά̣ντ(ας) νικῆσ(αι). 3 θ̣ε̣ῶ̣ι̣ Henry ap. Bernsdorff: θ̣ ̣ ω̣ ̣ Π: θ̣ω̣ς̣ ̣ editores principes ∥ 5 ποίησ(ον) Bernsdorff vel ποιῆσ(αι) Henry sug. ap. Bernsdorff

 50 Horstmann 1976: 59n187; Foster 2016: 183. Koenen 1977: 85 exaggerates the importance of lines 99–100 when he argues that the poem serves as an aition for the swine sacrifice probably offered to Zeus at the Basileia of 285/4 BCE. 51 e.g. Hermesianax fr. 7 Powell, Phanocles fr. 1 Powell, Euphorion SH 413–5, SH 970, The Fame of Halicarnassus (01/12/02 Merkelbach-Stauber), etc. For catalogues in Hellenistic poetry, see Asquith 2005 and Hunter 2005a.

196  The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24 I the mortal poet urge Heracles, taking turns with the god and having won in succession, to enable the poet justly to defeat everyone else

If the scholiast has not misunderstood the missing lines, Theocritus draws a comparison between the victorious outcome of Heracles’s battle and his longed-for victory in the contest in which the poem was (supposedly) performed or recited.52 Heracles’s victory does not function as a foil to the victory of a laudandus but to the wished-for victory of the poet. Pindar does not envisage the performance of his poetry within an agonistic context. Nonetheless, whenever he wants to establish his superior poetic art, he compares himself with other poets like Archilochus in Olympian 9 or represents himself in Olympian 2 allegorically as the proud Theban eagle while other poets are crows. Apparently, Theocritus represents the performance of Idyll 24 in a competitive context similar to that described in Idyll 17 (112–116). The selection of the myth with the specific connotations that the mytheme of the precocious child carried in Ptolemaic Alexandria is seen as a way to secure the benevolent attention of Ptolemy and his court. In this way, Theocritus follows the Pindaric precept in Nemean 1.33–34. Through the intertextual evocation of Pindar’s song, Nemean 1 offers the general framework that allows us to appreciate Theocritus’s role and performance. Furthermore, the juxtaposition of Theocritus as poet and Heracles as mythological victor has far-reaching consequences regarding the representation of Hellenistic poets in comparison with Pindaric self-representation. In Nemean 1 Pindar represents himself as a guest that brings his ode as a gift for Chromius; his role is analogous to that of Teiresias. By representing himself as analogous to Heracles, Theocritus skillfully inserts himself into, and reasserts his role within, the Ptolemaic perception of the cosmos. Both Heracles and his descendant, Ptolemy II, are champions of cosmic order. Theocritus considers his victory similar to that of Heracles. In this regard, his victory has a similar symbolic dimension that helps Ptolemy uphold the nomos of Zeus, on the Greek side,

 52 For a detailed commentary and tentative restoration of this scholion see Bernsdorff 2011. As the marginal note makes clear, θνητό̣ς at line 171 refers to the poet not to Heracles as F. Griffiths 1979: 95 assumes. Theoc. 17.112–116 suggests the recital or performance of poems at contests held in honor of the Ptolemies. Some scholars connect these two passages in order to prove that Idyll 24 was performed; cf. F. Griffiths 1979: 92. Although there is nothing inherently impossible about this, there is nothing in the text to suggest it either; cf. Stephens 2003: 124–125.

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and maat “order,” on the Egyptian side. This representation of the poet’s function and role picks up and evolves Pindar’s similar self-representation in Pythian 1. In that poem, Pindar maintains a constant juxtaposition of mortal and cosmic scenes. Hieron is Zeus’s analogue on earth and his recent athletic victory repeats Zeus’s victory over the powers of chaos personified by Typhon. Hieron’s athletic victory has not only an athletic but also, and perhaps more importantly, a political and societal aspect: it projects Hieron as the champion of cultured life which entails athletic competitions and music. Pindar considers a similar profile for himself as Hieron’s laudator: his music parallels that of Apollo and the Muses, his inspiring goddesses, and brings distress to the enemies of Zeus (i.e. Typhon) and to their earthly, historical equivalent, the Phoenicians and Tyrrhenians defeated by Hieron. It appears, therefore, that despite the difference in the use of Heracles in Idyll 24 the character of the self-representation that Theocritus constructs for himself is thoroughly Pindaric. Heracles functions as a textual foil to Pindar in Isthmian 6,53 and perhaps on this poem’s model, in Callimachus’s Victoria Berenices. Callimachus’s poem is too fragmentary to allow any certainty. However, in light of Theocritus’s idyll, it would be attractive to speculate about the similar significance that the juxtaposition of the poet with Heracles could have for that elegy. The note on the Antinoë papyrus is too lapidary to allow any insight into the original context of performance of Theocritus 24. Further, it is possible that this is nothing more than a contextualizing device similar to those employed at the beginning of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus and Hymn on the Bath of Pallas: Theocritus might want his readers to imagine that this poem is recited at a court competition. However this interpretation does not negate the previous considerations regarding the symbolic significance of comparing Theocritus’s victory to that of Heracles. On the other hand, the agonistic context suggested by the end of the poem imitates the formulaic and generic closure of Homeric hymns which were meant for performance at competitions.54 Next I print the last two lines following Bernsdorff 2011: χαῖρε, δυωδε]κ̣άμ̣οχθε· θε[̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣] θνητός ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣] ̣[ ̣] ἀ̣οιδὸν αμ̣[ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣]τ̣υ †νικωσ†. 171 χαῖρε Pohlenz GGA 93 (1931) 374 | δυωδε]κ̣άμ̣οχθε Fränkel ap. Pohlenz | θε[ὸν δ’ ὡς ἤινεσα] Pohlenz : θε[ὸν δ᾿ αἴτημί τυ] Hutchinson e.g. ap. Bernsdorff 172 δὸς χαίρειν τ]ὸ̣[ν]  53 Heracles’s visit to Telamon in the midst of the celebrations there parallels Pindar’s arrival in Aegina for the celebration of Lampon’s son’s victory (21, τάνδ’ ἐπιστείχοντα νᾶσον ῥαινέμεν εὐλογίαις; 57, Φυλακίδαι γὰρ ἦλθον, ὦ Μοῖσαι, ταμίας … κώμων …); cf. also Thummer 1969 ad 1. 54 Pohlenz 1931: 373–374; Gutzwiller 1981: 12; Bernsdorff 2011.

198  The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24 Pohlenz : νικάσας, τ]ὸ̣[ν] Hutchinson e.g. ap. Bernsdorff | αμ̣ coniecerit Hutchinson, confirmavit Henry ap. Bernsdorff: α̣ν̣ο̣ Hunt et Johnson | ἀμ̣[οιβᾶι δός με] τὺ Hutchinson e.g. ap. Bernsdorff : ἀν’ ο[ὐρανὸν ὥστε] τ̣ύ, Pohlenz | νικὼσ Π : accentu scripto; νεικὼσ ante corr.: νίκαις Pohlenz : νικῆν (inf.) Hutchinson e.g. ap. Bernsdorff

These lines closely imitate the ending of the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite (VI) which seems to have been performed in some sort of competitive context (19–20): χαῖρ’ ἑλικοβλέφαρε γλυκυμείλιχε, δὸς δ’ ἐν ἀγῶνι νίκην τῶιδε φέρεσθαι, ἐμὴν δ’ ἔντυνον ἀοιδήν. Farewell to you, quickglancing, sweetly winning ! Grant that I carry the victory in this contest, harness my song.

Theocritus recreates through his text the performative context of his subtext and at the same time places his idyll in the generic tradition of Homeric hymns. This association is also suggested by the topic of his poem. We know that Hellenistic culture shows a remarkable interest in the realistic representation of children, a tendency well documented both in sculpture and literature.55 The moderate amount of Hellenistic poetry that has survived preserves a considerable number of divine pueri and puellae: Zeus, Apollo and Artemis in Callimachus’s Hymns, Ptolemy in Theocritus 17, Hermes in Eratosthenes’s poem of the same name (frr. 1–16 Powell) etc. For several of the above poems a court interpretation has been tentatively put forward: young Zeus or Apollo have often been seen as a representation of Ptolemy II, while the scene of his birth, as described in Idyll 17, has rightly been brought into connection on the Greek side of royal propaganda with the birth of Apollo in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo.56 These myths appear in texts that assume the form of a hymn, as is the case with Callimachus’s poems, or of an encomium, as in Theocritus’s Idyll 17.57 The analogy strengthens the view that Idyll 24 functions as a hexameter hymn. Despite its popularity, the theme of divine or precocious babies is not an invention of Hellenistic hymnology. Rather, it has a long-standing tradition going as far back as the Homeric hymns (Apollo, Hermes) and Pindar (Iamus, Aristaeus, Achilles, Jason).58 Seen from this point of  55 Cf. B. Fowler’s 1989 index s.v. “children” and Ambühl 2005. 56 Perrotta 1925: 41–48. For the possible association of these poems with pharaonic ideology, see Stephens 2003. 57 F. Griffiths 1979: 53. Ancient grammarians consider both genres praise forms: hymns are addressed only to gods and encomia only to humans; cf. Hermogenes Aphth. progym. 8 ed. Rabe 21.5: διενήνοχε δὲ ὕμνου […] τῶι τὸν μὲν ὕμνον εἶναι θεῶν, τὸ δὲ ἐγκώμιον θνητῶν […]); see also Färber 1936: 56–57 and 42–44. 58 See Newman 1985: 184–185 and below.

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view, the catalogue of Heracles’s instructors could be taken as part of the aretalogy of the god or, as Pohlenz (1931: 373) suggested, the τροφή of the laudandus, parts traditional in the genres of hymn and encomium respectively.59 On the other hand, I would also argue that Theocritus chooses to dwell on Heracles in view of his important role in Pindar’s epinician discourse as the personification of mortal excellence and its limits.60 Both as the son of Zeus and the warrior or athlete par excellence, Heracles allows Theocritus to raise issues of inherent excellence and training, both of which recur repeatedly in Pindar’s odes.61 If this idyll was performed at the Basileia or Genethlia of 285/4 BCE for Philadelphus’s enthronement, the catalogue could also allude to the various events held at those games.62 Theocritus, then, represents Heracles as the exemplary athlete who is able to win in most events thanks to his rigorous training. Still, Heracles remains the model that athletes can imitate but not surpass. That would require the divine strength of the hero although this is never explicitly mentioned. However, it is illustrated through his privileged ascension to the sky (24.79–80, τοῖος ἀνὴρ ὅδε μέλλει ἐς οὐρανὸν ἄστρα φέροντα | ἀμβαίνειν τεὸς υἱός). This is a prerogative guaranteed to a chosen few and helps to distinguish Heracles, in all his Theocritean humanity, from ordinary athletes.63 The verb Theocritus uses (ἀμβαίνειν) is associated in archaic poetry with unsuccessful, if not hubristic, attempts to ascend Olympus without the consent of the gods.64 Pindar’s and Theocritus’s passages convey the idea of mortal limitations and by contrast of human potential for achievement.65 To travel across the great divide separating gods and humans, one needs divine assistance and this is given only to Heracles and, it is implied, to Ptolemy.66 In the context of Ptolemaic propaganda in which Heracles is the forefather of the dynasty, the harmonious combination of φυά and διδαχή which Theocritus suggests for Heracles helps put up the image of an ideal monarch to which Ptol-

 59 For τροφή as topos of rhetorical eulogies, see Pernot 1993: vol. 1, 161–163. 60 e.g. Olympian 3.40–45 and Nemean 3.22–25; see also the very helpful overview of Pike 1984. 61 Stern 1974: 359–360. 62 Koenen 1977: 85. 63 Vermeule 1979: 126–127. 64 Od. 11.316–317 (for Otos and Ephialtes), Pind. Pyth. 10.26; cf. Rumpel’s 1883 s.v. interpretation. 65 Angeli Bernardini 1995a ad Pyth. 10.26. 66 Within Pythian 10, Bellerophontes’s unsuccessful (perpendicular) translation to heaven (cf. Isthm. 7.44–47), implicitly suggested, is juxtaposed with the successful translation of Perseus (Heracles’s ancestor) to the land of the Hyperboreans (see also Heracles in Olympian 3), another paradisiacal land, out of common reach; cf. Hubbard 1985: 20.

200  The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24 emy II Philadelphus supposedly conforms or is expected to conform in the future.67 There is, however, a difference in the respective treatment of the image of Heracles by Pindar and Theocritus: for Pindar, Heracles is the product solely of inherent divine excellence, whereas for Theocritus he is the product of the combination of divine origins and training, if not of training alone in view of the suppression of Zeus’s fatherhood at the beginning of the poem. Pindar never gives any information about Heracles’s trainers as he does for other heroes (e.g. Jason in Pythian 4 and Achilles in Nemean 3). Before I turn to the representation of heroes’ training in Pindar’s epinician odes, I will shortly examine the function of διδαχή in the catalogue of Heracles’s educators and the prominence accorded to Alcmene throughout this section of Theocritus’s poem. The catalogue extends to thirty lines (103–133) and provides entries with the names of Heracles’s teachers and trainers in several disciplines: Heracles masters reading and writing, the use of bows and arrows, the playing of the lyre, boxing and wrestling, chariot-racing, hoplite fighting, and horseback riding. Theocritus’s Heracles appears to be the model of a young prince skilled in the arts of both war and music. Still, as is to be expected in view of his mythological profile, the greater part of the catalogue is taken up by Heracles’s military training. In the end Heracles emerges as the ideal warrior and as such as a possible point of comparison for the king.68 In Nemean 1, Pindar calls Heracles the pinnacle of prowess (34, ἐν κορυφαῖς ἀρετᾶν μεγάλαις) and substantiates this by the myth he narrates: Heracles’s unparalleled excellence is proved first by the description of his exploit and then by the list of battles that Teiresias describes in his prophecy (61–69). In a way, both parts complement each other, suggesting respectively the beginning and end of Heracles’s marvellous career. Theocritus’s representation of Heracles follows Pindar closely in this respect but lacks the subtlety of Pindar’s art. Theocritus’s depiction of Heracles as the most valorous of heroes is carried out more on the basis of the catalogue than on that of the myth and the prophecy. The catalogue demonstrates that Heracles receives the best of education in all disciplines from the best trainers, most of whom are famous heroes in their own right. Furthermore, in view of his superhuman strength and demanding heroic training, the  67 One is in the dark about the exact dates of Theocritus’s sojourn in Alexandria and the date of Idyll 24. The explicitly Ptolemaic idylls (14, 15 and 17) can be approximately dated to the second half of 270s BCE; cf. Gow 1952: xxv–xxvi, Dover 1971: xxi–xxii. Weber 1993: 96 and Hunter 2003: 1–8 date the poem to this period; contra Gow 1952: xxix. An early date would agree with the hypothesis of Koenen (1977: 80) that Idyll 24 was meant for performance at the Basileia of 284 BCE at Ptolemy’s enthronement as coregent. Cf. also Stephens 2003: 125–126 who is also in favor of an early date. 68 Hunter 1996: 17n67; Stephens 2018b: 67.

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part on his insatiable hunger (37–40), its comic associations aside, is not out of place (cf. also Milon in Idyll 4). His excellence, however, is predicated more on training than on pedigree, by contrast with both Pindaric versions. The emphasis on Heracles’s διδαχή is certainly alien to Pindar’s Heracles. Theocritus does not name Heracles as the son of Zeus or comment on the importance of the episode for establishing the identity of his true father. Instead he emphasizes the relationship between mother and son.69 Twice, at the beginning and end of the catalogue, Theocritus stresses Alcmene’s part in the upbringing of Heracles (103–104 ~ 134–136). Alcmene’s primacy is emphasized through her role as Heracles’s protector (103, ὑπὸ ματρί) or as the grammatical subject of the verb (134). Amphitryon, on the other hand, is conspicuously absent. At line 104, he just gives his name to the illegitimate child of his wife (Ἀργείου κεκλημένος Ἀμφιτρύωνος), while at 135 Amphitryon appears indirectly in proximity to the baby’s cradle (ἀγχόθι πατρός). But again the lion’s hide is more important for the young baby than his father (136). Alcmene’s importance is also spelled out in Teiresias’s prophecy.70 Teiresias addresses his prophecy solely to the queen. The king and the male Theban citizens of Pindar’s Nemean 1 are absent. Further, in an obvious deviation from Pindar’s model, it is the queen who summons the seer and not her consort (24.65–67 ~ Nemean 1.60–61), whose indifference is thrown into relief at every stage of the narrative, with the possible exception of lines 62–63 when Amphitryon puts Heracles back to sleep. Most details in Teiresias’s prophecy are found in the relevant passage in Nemean 1. In contrast to Pindar, though, Theocritus gives twelve as the number for Heracles’s tasks (82; cf. 171? δυωδεκάμοχθε), canonical by his time, and mentions Heracles’s end at Trachis, elements absent from Pindar’s version. Furthermore, Theocritus’s Teiresias reveals to Alcmene that the snakes were sent by the gods in order to devour the baby (84–85). Interesting also is the divergence from Pindar in lines 76–78: πολλαὶ Ἀχαιιάδων μαλακὸν περὶ γούνατι νῆμα χειρὶ κατατρίψουσιν ἀκρέσπερον ἀείδοισαι Ἀλκμήναν ὀνομαστί, σέβας δ’ ἔσῃ Ἀργείαισι Many Achaean women will roll the soft thread with their hands around their knees late in the evening, singing of Alcmene by name; you will be revered among the women of Argos.

 69 F. Griffiths 1979: 54. 70 Foster 2016: 171–177.

202  The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24 Heracles’s heroic exploits and deification will reflect on his mother who will become a suitable subject matter for the songs of Greek women. Quite likely the emphasis accorded to Alcmene is an act of deference towards Queen Berenice I, especially if one accepts the supposition that Heracles’s figure alludes to Ptolemy II.71 However, the analogy is superficial and ought not to be pressed. One may argue that by means of the suggested analogy between Alcmene and Berenice Theocritus hints at the role that Berenice I probably played in making her son the heir of Soter instead of Soter’s sons by his previous wives. Theocritus composed a poem for this queen entitled Berenice (Athenaeus 7.284A). The prominent position that Ptolemaic queens enjoyed in the court of Alexandria is evident from other court poems (e.g. Idyll 15), especially Idyll 17, where Berenice I is explicitly compared to mothers of other famous Greek heroes (53–56). However, the most important difference from Pindar concerns Theocritus’s focus on Heracles’s training. In Nemean 1, there is no concession on the poet’s part to the importance of training for boosting Heracles’s inherent potential for excellence. This is a possibility raised in Nemean 3, which is addressed to Aristokleides of Aegina. The ode’s myth deals with the exploits of six-year-old Achilles during his tutelage under Chiron. It combines the motif of the precocious hero child and of training the hero that we find fully developed in Idyll 24. This could suggest it as a possible subtext for Theocritus’s innovation in his poem. In the following part, I will argue in favor of an intertextual connection between Idyll 24 and Nemean 3.

Achilles’s Training in Nemean 3: Innate Excellence vs. τέχνη The mythological part of Nemean 3 assumes the form of a catalogue enumerating the exploits of famous Aeginetan heroes, such as Peleus, Telamon and Achilles (33–63). The catalogue centers around the idea of excellence inherent in the clan of the Aeacids, as can be also seen by the gnomic digression emphatically placed at the center of the myth (40–42):72

 71 F. Griffiths 1979: 94; Stephens 2003: 137. Pindar often designates Heracles solely as the “child of Alcmene” (Isthm. 3.73, 6.30; fr. 172 Sn.-M.). Cf. also Simonides fr. 18 Poltera (epinician for Philon of Corcyra; Poltera 2008: ad 18.2) and Bacch. fr. 4.41, 5.71. Note also Simonides fr.17 W2 (< Hes. Theogony 526=950). Still, none of these poets assigns to Alcmene the prominent position she holds in Idyll 24. 72 Pfeijffer 1999: 207–210.

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συγγενεῖ δέ τις εὐδοξίᾳ μέγα βρίθει. ὃς δὲ διδάκτ’ ἔχει, ψεφεννὸς ἀνὴρ ἄλλοτ’ ἄλλα πνέων οὔ ποτ’ ἀτρεκεῖ κατέβα ποδί, μυριᾶν δ’ ἀρετᾶν ἀτελεῖ νόῳ γεύεται A man with innate glory prevails. But he who knows things through learning is a man in darkness; not having consistent aspirations, he never arrives at his goal with an unswerving foot, but tastes countless forms of excellence with an incomplete mind.

The man of mere learning is obscure, his gait unsteady, and his taste of ἀρετή incomplete. The gnome strengthens the family bond connecting the Aeacids, but it is remarkable that Pindar later on in the same catalogue emphasizes the role of Chiron as educator of heroes and of Achilles specifically.73 Achilles’s part is the most extensive and developed in terms of narrative technique. It begins with a catalogue of Achilles’s exploits as a young boy under the guardianship of Chiron (43–52), goes on with a list of other heroes or divine children who were also trained by Chiron (53–58) and concludes in the pattern of ring composition with Achilles’s exploits as an adult man under the walls of Troy (59–63). The structure of this part shows several affinities with the general way in which both Pindar and Theocritus depict Heracles’s upbringing in their poems. Like Heracles, Achilles is also a prodigious child: at the age of six he kills lions and boars and carries their dead bodies by himself to his master’s cave. Interestingly, Heracles is mentioned in Nemean 3.19–21 as a foil to the entire clan of the Aeacids and the laudandus.74 Achilles’s exploits, like those of infant Heracles, are also admired by an internal audience, which is made up by Athena and Artemis (50). Finally, in both cases Pindar refers his audience to his sources about the myths of these miraculous children. Pindar calls the myth of Heracles in Nemean 1 an ἀρχαῖος λόγος (34), although he is the first to treat it. In Nemean 3, with regard to the story of Achilles’s attainments in hunting Pindar declares: λεγόμενον δὲ τοῦτο προτέρων | ἔπος ἔχω (52–53), although again this story is not found before and is probably his own invention.75 Pindar envelops both stories of incredible infantine or adolescent exploits with the authority of tradition. The most interesting part, however, concerns the representation of Achilles’s heroic career in relation to the description of Heracles’s career in Nemean 1 and Idyll 24. The miniature narrative of lines 60–63 concentrates on the apogee of  73 Cf. also Pyth. 4.102–3,115–116 (Jason); Nem. 4.60–61; Isthm. 8.41–44 (Peleus). 74 See Pfeijffer 1999: 224–228 and Burnett 2005: 142–143. 75 Pfeijffer 1999: 212; see, however, Instone 1996 ad loc.

204  The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24 Achilles’s career, the killing of Memnon, the son of a goddess like himself. From this point of view, the first part of the catalogue (43–52) not only prefigures but also functions as the necessary condition for the fulfillment of Achilles’s heroic mission in the third part.76 Similarly, in Nemean 1 the episode with the snakes is the first revelation of Heracles’s heroic nature, which leads to the events prefigured in the prophecy; these culminate in his assistance to the gods in their war against the giants. Finally, both heroes are descendants of Zeus (Nemean 1.35 ~ fr. 52u.9 Sn.-M. ~ Nemean 3.65), and as such their brilliant career is contextualized within the broader frame of the praise of Zeus’s rule (Nemean 1.75 σεμνὸν αἰνήσειν νόμον ~ Nemean 3.65–66 Ζεῦ, τεὸν γὰρ αἷμα, σέο δ’ ἀγών, τὸν ὕμνος ἔβαλεν | ὀπὶ νέων ἐπιχώριον χάρμα κελαδέων).77 Along similar lines, in Idyll 24 the prophecy complements the main episode of the poem leading the reader to Heracles’s completion of the twelve labors according to his destiny (80–83). This will enable him to become immortal and spend his days in the midst of the other gods on Olympus. There is no independent evidence that can suggest the connection of Idyll 24 with Nemean 3, but the theme of the self-sufficient prodigious child and Chiron’s training of Achilles are quite relevant of themselves. Theocritus follows on the whole the Pindaric image of Heracles but twists it in such a way as to make room for his training; here Nemean 3 could be one of his models. Pindar does not provide many examples of heroic children, and those he gives (Iamus Olympian 6, Asclepius Pythian 3, Aristaeus Pythian 9) lack the similarities with Heracles just pointed out in Achilles’s case.78 Apart from this, however, both Nemean 3 and Idyll 24 develop the theme of training in relation to the idea of inherent excellence  76 Pfeijffer 1999: 211–213. 77 A similar detail was included in fr. 52u Sn.-M. as well. A fragmentary marginal note on POxy. 2442 gives ἀν(τὶ τοῦ) ὑμνη[. Some form of ὑμνέω is to be supplied. Pindar probably used a poetic synonym which the scholiast explained. It could refer to the deified Heracles’s praising the rule of Zeus, as in Nemean 1. At Nemean 1.75, the manuscripts give two variants δόμον and γάμον. νόμον has been restored on the basis of Σ Nem. 1.112a, b; cf. Carey 1981 ad loc. “[…] looking back, [Heracles] sees the essential connection between the labour and the glory, and can praise the νόμος which ordains it.” 78 This is not entirely accurate. Ol. 6.43–44 (ἦλθεν δ’ ὑπὸ σπλάγχνων ὑπ’ ὠδίνεσσ’ ἐραταῖς Ἴαμος | ἐς φάος αὐτίκα) is nearly identical with Nem. 1.35–36 (ἐπεὶ σπλάγχνων ὕπο ματέρος αὐτίκα θαητὰν ἐς αἴγλαν παῖς Διός | ὠδῖνα φεύγων …); cf. Mezger 1880, Christ 1896 and Bury 1890: ad 35. Both myths describe the birth of divine and precocious babies. It is probable, therefore, that the description of the birth of Iamus in Olympian 6 is meant to recall that of Heracles in Nemean 1 composed almost a decade before it. After all, both laudandi were connected in some way with Hieron. Both these scenes, of course, go back to the description of Apollo’s birth in h.Apol. (119, ἐκ δ’ ἔθορε πρὸ φόως δέ, θεαὶ δ’ ὀλόλυξαν ἅπασαι), which is Pindar’s subtext.

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in a similar way. Nemean 3 focuses on Chiron’s role as trainer in order to emphasize that training enhances Achilles’s inborn prowess.79 This is a piece of epinician discourse which regularly appears in Pindar’s odes. Pindar does not stress the benefits of innate excellence on its own, but combines them with training, effort and toil.80 This is suggested in the representation of heroes such as Jason in Pythian 4 or Achilles in Nemean 3, but there is no instance in the Pindaric corpus of Heracles ever being represented as undergoing training. This is a Theocritean innovation. For Pindar Heracles is the embodiment of the concept of inborn prowess. Theocritus, I suggest, combines two distinct Pindaric images, those of baby Heracles and child Achilles. The Homeric hymns do not provide anything similar and so Pindar’s Achilles remains an attractive candidate. Still, Theocritus is silent on the notion of inborn qualities in Idyll 24. In view of the Ptolemaic context suggested above and the “analogies” between Ptolemy II and Heracles, Theocritus’s silence on Heracles’s divine father could not only avoid exaggeration or explicit flattery but also be part of his encomiastic technique. Heracles’s and Ptolemy’s divine ancestry is alluded to but never explicitly spelled out. As Frederick Griffiths (1979: 56) points out, Theocritus is interested in creating elaborate scenes which are full of implications but never explicit in their encomiastic agenda.81

The End of Idyll 24 The publication of the Antinoë Papyrus has shown that the poem goes on after line 140, as scholars had already suspected.82 The catalogue is followed by a description of Heracles’s everyday portions of food. The poet exaggerates the amount of food consumed by the young boy, adding a characteristically comic coloring to his version; this element is absent from Pindar’s account. Heracles’s voracity is a standard topic in Sicilian and Middle comedy, mythological burlesque and mime; it is probable that Theocritus alludes at this point to that literary tradition. The tone in these lines is not incongruous with the rest of the poem. Theocritus has been consistent in his effort to lower the myth from the solemn heights of Pindaric lyric to the everyday routine of Hellenistic realism. One should not forget that a similar comic element in the representation of Heracles appears in the explicitly political Idyll 17. In lines 27–33, Heracles takes part in a

 79 Instone 1996: ad 43–63; Pfeijffer 1999 228–229; and especially Burnett 2005: 147–149. 80 Marrou 1965: 79; Hubbard 1985: 107–116. 81 Cf. also Stephens 2003: 128. 82 See Bernsdorff 2011.

206  The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24 banquet alongside his descendants, Alexander and Ptolemy I. By the end of the scene Heracles is so drunk that Alexander and Ptolemy need to help him to his bedchamber. This scene too alludes to two topoi well-represented in comedy: Heracles’s insatiable thirst for wine and sex, although the poet is very careful in the way he incorporates these comic elements in his court poem.83 The end of the idyll is preserved on the papyrus but in such fragmentary a condition that does not allow a thorough understanding of this part of the poem. Still, it suggests that Teiresias’s prophecy takes up the central part of the idyll. Lines 141–155 are extremely fragmentary, and they are followed by a lacuna of approximately twelve lines. However, the last five lines of the poem seem to be more accessible, partly because of their better state of preservation and partly because of the marginal scholium that we have already talked about. Line 168 preserves the ending of the name of mountain Olympus. It is, then, likely that the last part of the poem describes Heracles’s apotheosis as a verification of Teiresias’s prophecy (79–83). Furthermore, the traces in lines 168–170 imply that the poet talks about an incestuous marriage: either that of Heracles to his half-sister Hebe or that of Zeus to his full sister Hera:84 ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣] ̣α̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ω̣ν μ ̣ [ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ Ὄλ]υμπον ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣] ̣δ̣ε̣ βο̣ώ̣πιδα ̣ [ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣]ς ̣ ̣ ̣ κασιγνή]τ̣αν ὁμο̣πάτ[ριον ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ]λᾶι. 168 Hunt et Johnson ∥ 169 βο̣ώ̣πιδα Henry ap. Bernsdorff: ἐρ̣ιώ ̣ π ̣ ιδα Hunt et Johnson ∥ 170 Pohlenz; de αὐτοκασιγνήταν cogites si ante κασιγνη] non tres sed quattuor litteras deesse scias

Henry (ap. Bernsdorff 2011) reports that the traces in line 169 suggest βοώπιδα rather than ἐριώπιδα, as Hunt and Johnson (1930: 80 ad 169) had deciphered them. Hunt and Johnson considered ἐριώπιδα an epithet of Hebe and consequently posited her presence in these lines. Since Hebe usually appears whenever there is mention of Heracles’s deification (Od. 11.603; Hes. Theog. 950; Pind. Nem. 1.71; Eur. Heracl. 91; Theoc. 17.33–34), this interpretation would strengthen the analogy with Pindar’s account in Nemean 1. However, ἐριῶπις is attested only in Hesychius (s.v.) and never in poetry.85 Apart from this, Hebe is usually praised for her limbs and not her eyes: accordingly, she is either καλλίσφυρος (Od. 11.603;

 83 For irony and its limits in Hellenistic court poetry see Hamm 2009. 84 Cf. also Bernsdorff 2011. 85 See, however, Maximus περὶ καταρχῶν 11.545. Homer uses Eriōpis as the name of Oileus’s mother (Il. 13.697=15.336).

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Hes. Cat. fr. 25.28 M.-W.) or ἀγλαόγυιος (Pind. Nem. 7.4). It is more likely that at this point in the narrative Theocritus mentions Hera, whose typical adjective βοῶπις is (e.g. Iliad 1.551, βοῶπις πότνια Ἥρη).86 There seems to be a further argument in favor of Hera’s rather than Hebe’s presence in the end of the idyll. At line 170, one could supplement αὐτοκασιγνήταν and so get the iunctura αὐτοκασιγνήταν ὁμοπάτριον, even though in the missing part of the line there is enough room for ten, not eleven letters.87 However this may be, the underlying concept is clear: this collocation is found again in an epic fragment which has been tentatively assigned either to the Hesiodic Peirithou Katabasis (fr. 280.18 M.W.) or, with more probability, to the Minyas (fr. 7.18 Bernabé).88 The line derives from a passage in which Theseus explains to Meleager why Peirithous and he have descended to Hades. Theseus informs his interlocutor that intermarriage is the custom between the gods (14–16): [ἀθανά]των τε νό̣μο̣ις ἵνα ἑδνώσει̣ε̣ν̣ ἄ̣κ̣[ο]ιτιν· [καὶ γὰρ] ἐκείνους φασὶ κασιγνήτας μεγ̣[ακ]υ̣δ̣εῖς [μνησ]τ̣εύειν, γαμέειν τε φίλων ἀπ̣ά̣ν̣[ευθε τοκήων] According to the customs of the immortal gods in order to offer gifts for her as his wife. For they say that they seek in marriage their much-renowned sisters and that they marry them far away from their parents.

Peirithous’s claim to the hand of Persephone is supported by the fact that as her half-brother (Iliad 2.741; 14.317) he stands closer to her than her uncle Hades (18, [αὐτοκ]ασιγνήτην ὁμοπάτριον ~ 21, κασίγνητος καὶ ὄπατρος). Following divine custom, Peirithous wishes to marry his half-sister without the consent of their parents.89 If then βοῶπις at line 169 refers indeed to Hera and not to Hebe, the  86 It can be used for lesser female deities (Hom. Il. 3.144; 7.10; 18.40; Theog. 335; Pind. Pyth. 3.91; Bacch. 11.99) or even mortal women (Clytemnestra fr. 23a.9 M.-W.). However, the mention of Olympus renders it more likely than not that it refers to Hera here. The form is a hapax. The only form for the accusative singular attested in poetry and prose, but never in Homer, is βοῶπιν (Hes. Cat. fr. 23a.9 M.-W.; Pi. Pyth. 3.91; Bacch. 11.99, 16.110; Lyc. 1292). 87 For similar expressions see Bernabé’s apparatus ad Minyas fr. 7.18 and Richradson (1974) ad h.Cer. 85: (e.g. Il. 12.371, κασίγνητος καὶ ὄπατρος); (Il. 24.47, κασίγνητον ὁμογάστριον); (h.Cer. 85, αὐτοκασίγνητος καὶ ὁμόσπορος); cf. also [Aesch.] PV 559; Eur. Phoen. 136–137. 88 Schwartz 1960: 27–28; Tsagalis 2017: 331–352. 89 I have not been able to find any other mention of this divine custom in Greek literature. The use of νόμος is certainly post-Homeric (cf. LJS9 s.v. I). Lines 15–16 seem, however, to depend on the description of the first erotic encounter between Zeus and Hera in Il. 14.295–296 (οἷον ὅτε πρῶτόν περ ἐμισγέσθην φιλότητι | εἰς εὐνὴν φοιτῶντε φίλους λήθοντε τοκῆας); cf. also the Homeric scholiast at Il. 14.296, Pfeiffer ad fr. 48 and Massimilla ad fr. 56.

208  The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24 collocation (αὐτό-) κασιγνήτα ὁμοπάτριος alludes to the incestuous marriage of Zeus to Hera. In Idyll 17, the marriage of Zeus to Hera is explicitly used as a model for the marriage of Ptolemy II to Arsinoe II (128–134). As Prioux (2011: 217) remarks, “Allusions to the hieros gamos of Zeus and Hera allow justification of royal incest, but they also allow the suggestion that the royal couple rises above humanity precisely because of behaviour ordinarily prohibited that nonetheless imitates divinity.” It seems quite possible, then, that the same theme was selected again in Idyll 24 in accordance with its court significance to allude to the marital union of the two royal siblings (cf. e.g. Theocritus 15.64; Posidippus AB 114).90 This would square nicely with the possible context of performance of Idyll 24, the more so if the poem was intended for a Ptolemaic audience. It is unclear whether Theocritus also mentioned the incestuous marriage of Heracles to his half-sister Hebe (cf. Theocritus 17.33–34), as Pindar does in Nemean 1. In Theocritus’s version, Teiresias does not elaborate on the identity of Heracles’s bride but vaguely predicts that he is going to be called groom to the gods (84, γαμβρὸς δ’ ἀθανάτων κεκλήσεται).91 The name of the bride is not revealed, but it could have been at the end of the poem. It seems then that Theocritus replaces the description of Heracles’s marriage to Hebe in Nemean 1 with the marriage of Zeus to Hera. This, of course, brings about a change in the way in which the theme of divine marriage is employed in the discourse of both poems. In the context of Nemean 1, the final scene of Heracles’s marital bliss harks back to the idea of rest suggested at the beginning of the ode by the scene of Alpheus’s lying in the arms of the nymph Arethusa.92 In Pindar’s epinicians love imagery indicates the victor’s determination to win kleos, while his representation as a (young) groom enhances his praise by stressing his desirability. At the same time, the delights of victory are compared to those of sexual intercourse and marital bliss. Both ensure the “immortalization” of the victor: the former through the kleos won and the latter through procreation. In the case of Nemean 1, however, there seems to be more to the use of this imagery. Heracles’s marriage to Hebe grants him eternal youth and immortality, analogous to that offered by Pindar to his laudandus. Pindar’s ode will render Chromius immortal and represent  90 Otto 2009: 162 with n. 552. To the texts mentioned above one should add also Sotades fr. 16 Powell, especially if one is to follow Pretagostini’s attractive hypothesis that it comes from the same poem as fr. 1 Powell; see Hamm 2009: 78–81. 91 Cf. Eur. Phaethon TrGF5.2 fr. 781.240–244 Kannicht (ὦ μάκαρ, ὦ βασιλεὺς μείζων ἔτ’ ὄλβον, | ὃς θεὰν κηδεύσεις | καὶ μόνος ἀθανάτων | γαμβρὸς δι’ ἀπείρονα γαῖαν | θνατὸς ὑμνήσηι) with Diggle’s 1970: 154–160 comments ad loc. 92 Bury 1890: 7; Carey 1981 ad 1.

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him to generations to come at his athletic peak as a winner at the Nemean Games.93 Chromius’s position is analogous both to that of Alpheus reaching the δέμνιον (“bed”) of his lover and to that of Heracles arriving in the chamber of Hebe.94 This analogy along with other echoes pointed out by scholars makes possible the parallelism between Chromius and Heracles, between the frame and the myth.95 In Theocritus’s poem, Heracles’s marriage alludes to the royal marriage and his deification in the final part prefigures Ptolemy’s immortality in the context of the dynastic cult. However, the divine marriage is no longer a metaphor for eternal youth (Nemean 1) but rather offers a paradigm that sanctions the incestuous marriage of Ptolemy II to Arsinoe II and, on Pindar’s model, represents it as a means of attaining immortality. The treatment of Heracles’s marriage in Idyll 24 tallies with Theocritus’s similar employment of mythological marriages for the representation of the marriage of the royal couple. In all these cases the marriage of a mortal man (Adonis, Menelaus) to a divine consort (Aphrodite, Helen) functions as the means whereby he can achieve immortality. In the final part of this chapter, I will argue that this piece of Ptolemaic imagery is based on the similar representation of the marriages of Cadmus and Peleus in Pindar’s epinician odes. Pindar provides Theocritus with examples of heroic marriages which in the context of his epinician discourse function as a metaphor for the transition from mortality to divinity and at the same time demarcate the dividing lines between the two categories.

Divine Marriages in Pindar and Theocritus In Idyll 18, Menelaus, like Heracles at Theocritus 24.84, is described as groom to the gods (18, μῶνος ἐν ἡμιθέοις Κρονίδαν Δία πενθερὸν ἑξεῖς, “you alone among the demigods will have Cronus’s son, Zeus, as your father-in-law”; 49, χαίροις, ὦ νύμφα· χαίροις, εὐπένθερε γαμβρέ, “may you be happy, bride; may you be happy,

 93 Σ ad Pi. Nem. 1.49b . 94 Mezger 1880: 110–112, although he goes too far in his biographical reading; Fraccaroli 1894: 519; Christ 1896: 236. Slater (1984: 250–259) makes the interesting suggestion that the reception of Heracles at the symposium of the gods on Olympus reflects the reception of the chorus in Chromius’s home for the celebration of his victory (19–24); cf. Athanassaki 2009: 186. One should also take into account Nem. 9.44–45, also composed for Chromius some years after Nemean 1, which reflects the sentiment of Nem. 1.69–72. 95 Mezger 1880: 98–112 passim, Bury 1890: 4–7 (and esp. his notes on lines 51, 58 and 59), Fraccaroli 1894: 527–528, and Carey 1981: 129.

210  The Mytho-Poetics of Praise: Prodigious Heracles in Pindar and Theocritus 24 groom with the good father-in-law”). In both cases, marriage is employed as a metaphor to suggest that the groom has moved to a higher ontological category: as groom to the gods Heracles becomes immortal and Menelaus a demigod. In this sense, both Heracles and Menelaus exemplify through their marriages the highest honor a mortal man can reach. This pattern of images bears similarities to the way in which Pindar represents the marriages of Cadmus to Harmonia and of Peleus to Thetis in his epinician odes. I suggest that Pindar was Theocritus’s model for the development of marriage imagery as a metaphor for the deification of Ptolemaic kings. Like Heracles (cf. Isthmian 4.78, χρυσέων οἴκων ἄναξ καὶ γαμβρὸς Ἥρας, “lord of the golden house and Hera’s son-in-law”), Peleus is sonin-law to the gods: ἅτις οὐ Πηλέος ἀίει κλέος ἥρωος, εὐδαίμονος γαμβροῦ θεῶν “[sc. a city] that does not hear of the fame of hero Peleus, the blissful son-in-law to the gods” (Isthmian 6.25); he is also εὐδαίμων because his marriage to Thetis opened up the way to the world of gods for him. Both Peleus and Cadmus are repeatedly employed in Pindaric poetry along with Heracles as personifications of the highest level of happiness that any mortal can attain.96 The description of the divine banquet in Theocritus 17.16–32, in which all members of the Macedonian and Ptolemaic royal houses are represented as feasting along with their progenitor, Heracles, and the rest of the Olympians shows similarities to the Pindaric passages that represent the two heroes feasting in the company of the gods on the occasion of their wedding (cf. Pythian 3.92–95; Nemean 4.66–68; Isthmian 4.73–78). Apart from this, what unites all these men (Menelaus, Heracles, Peleus, Cadmus) is the privileged afterlife that they gain as consorts to divine women or goddesses (Helen, Hebe, Thetis, Harmonia). Heracles joins the rest of the gods on Olympus and acquires everlasting youth (Hebe); Cadmus and Peleus are accepted on the Isles of the Blessed (Ol. 2.75–87). Similarly, according to an old tradition, found in the Odyssey but not in Pindar,97 Menelaus was not meant to die but go on living in the Elysian Fields, some sort of paradise meant for the special few. In most, if not in all, of these cases the consorts are instrumental to the deification of their husbands. This similarity explains their relevance as models for Theocritus in light of the importance of female royal figures in Ptolemaic public discourse. For instance, Arsinoë II was considered, and represented publicly, not only as a benefactor to her subjects but also as a benefactor and protector of her

 96 Nisetich 1989: 59–61 and 64–65 with note 20; Currie 2005: 398. 97 Odyssey 4.569, οὕνεκ’ ἔχεις Ἑλένην καί σφιν γαμβρὸς Διός ἐσσι. Σ ad Od. 4.569 informs us that this line was not found in all ancient editions; cf. S. West 1988 ad loc. Cf. also Euripides Helen 1676–1678.

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husband’s sovereignty:98 in the so-called Mendes stela that describes her death and apotheosis Arsinoe is called “sweet in love,” a title which, as Koenen believes, is rendered in Greek by φιλάδελφος. Koenen (1983: 161–163) has further demonstrated that in Ptolemaic public discourse (incestuous)99 eros between the royal couple, their ancestors, and descendants guarantees the existence and prosperity of the kingdom. Thus, the emphasis on the representation of divine and royal marriages and their frequent appearance in Ptolemaic poetry100 suggests that marriage and eros were a standard topic in Ptolemaic propaganda and Pindar was the model Ptolemaic poets employed to handle it using Greek poetic idiom.

 98 Koenen 1983: 159–160 with n. 51. 99 Note the case of Ptolemy III and Berenice II, who were represented as full siblings (cf. Call. Victoria Berenice fr. 54.2 Harder = 143.2 Massimilla) although they were related only through their grandmother Berenice I; Koenen 1983: 160 and 164–165; 1993: 62–63. 100 Call. fr. 392 Pf. (Ἀρσινόης ὦ ξεῖνε γάμον καταβάλλομ’ ἀείδειν) is believed to derive from an epithalamium in elegiacs that Callimachus composed to celebrate Arsinoë’s marriage. There is also a lacunose elegiac fragment (SH 961) preserving the name of an Arsinoë and which could be describing the same marriage.

Chapter 6 Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus Introduction A strong Hesiodic influence colors Callimachus’s first Hymn.1 Prioritizing Hesiodic discourse as the poem’s background, Callimachus positions the first Hymn as proem to his book of Hymns. In Hesiod’s Theogony (48) the Muses’ song is articulated in ring-composition praising Zeus at the beginning and end because he is the strongest of all the gods.2 Beginning with Zeus, however, is not a Hesiodic peculiarity.3 Pindar acknowledges this practice in the opening lines of Nemean 2 (1–3): ὅθεν περ καὶ Ὁμηρίδαι | ῥαπτῶν ἐπέων τὰ πόλλ᾽ ἀοιδοί | ἄρχονται, Διὸς ἐκ προοιμίου […], “Just as the Homeridae, the singers of verses stitched together, frequently start their song with Zeus as their prelude.” These lines have attracted considerable attention since they provide evidence about the etymology of the word “rhapsode” and the bards performing, and preserving, Homer’s epics.4 If προοίμιον here is used in the sense “hymn” in which Thucydides (3.104.5) also uses it to describe the Homeric Ηymn to Apollo,5 then Pindar suggests that epic performances often started with a hymn addressed to Zeus. The opening of the Works and Days (1–10) could provide such an example.6 However, the Homeric corpus does not contain a substantial example of such an autonomous hymn.7 On the other hand, Farnell (1932: 252) interprets the line differently: Pindar does not refer to a rhapsodic hymn; rather, he acknowledges the practice of simply addressing Zeus by name at the beginning of a performance. Be that as it may, Fennell (1899: 20 ad loc.) notes that Nemean 2 also concludes with a reference to Zeus  1 Hunter and Fuhrer 2002: 167–169; Fantuzzi 2011: 456. 2 The line is bracketed in most modern editions. It is difficult to reconcile the praise of Zeus with a song that starts with Ouranos and Gaia. Still, the poet makes clear that the song is intended for the delectation of Zeus (Theog. 36–42; 51–52). 3 Fantuzzi 2011: 449. 4 Cf. Σ Pind. Nem. 1a–f. See Nagy 1990: 21–25. 5 See, for instance, Christ 1896: 244 ad loc. For the performance of such proems-hymns, see Ford 1992: 23–31. 6 Instone 1996: 146 on Nem. 2.3. 7 Christ (1896: 244 on Nem. 2.1) notes this and points out the exception offered by the Homeric Ηymn to Zeus (XXIII) that numbers only four lines; see the notes by Allen, Halliday, and Sikes 1936: 416–417, Càssola 1975: 389–391, 579, and Zanetto 1996: 306–307. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-007

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(24); thus Pindar’s poem may look back to the practice of the Muses in Hesiod’s Theogony, starting and concluding a song with the praise of Zeus. Callimachus could select the addressee bearing in mind both Hesiodic and Pindaric practice. A hexameter hymn to Zeus could, after all, be designated as a proem to Zeus.8 Seen in such terms, the corpus of Callimachus’s hymns would coincide to some extent with the structure of the Muses’ song in Hesiod. The possibility that Callimachus reflects this practice or, at least, means his first hymn to have a special significance in the group of hymns is supported by its engagement with the Hesiodic Works and Days and Aratus’s Phenomena (1–18), both of which also begin with preludes that praise Zeus.9 On the other hand, there is no major Homeric hymn to Zeus that could account for Callimachus’s choice. One way around this difficulty would be to consider the role that Zeus plays in Ptolemaic court poetry as the divine analogue of the earthly monarch. The influence of Pindar’s Pythian 1 has been formative in this regard and can be traced in Callimachus’s first Hymn as well. Pindaric influence though goes further than just Pythian 1 and includes Pindar’s hymns, the first of which is a major intertext of this and other Callimachean hymns (particularly the Hymn to Delos).10 Scholars have raised the possibility that Callimachus’s hymns were meant to be read as a collection, gaining meaning not only by being read as individual pieces but also through their interaction with the other poems in the book.11 The analogy of Callimachus’s collection with the Hesiodic Theogony suggests that the hymns could be seen in terms of a theogonic poem in six installments starting with the Hymn to Zeus and including stories about his progeny and about at least one other major deity (Demeter).12 This is not to deny that political considerations could have occasioned the selection of the specific gods. One major theme that runs through the poems is the analogy between divine and mortal

 8 Haslam 1993: 115. 9 Kidd 1997: 162–163; Martin 1998: vol. 2, 137–141 ad loc. Theocritus 17 also begins with the praise of Zeus. Callimachus’s first Hymn and Theocritus’s Encomium of Ptolemy Philadelphus are seen to interact by general concensus (see Chapter 4), even though the question of priority has not been settled to everyone’s satisfaction. 10 For the influence of Pindar’s First Hymn on Hellenistic poetry, see Mingarelli 2003; D’Alessio 2005a: 133–134; Giuseppetti 2013: 90–94, 130–146. 11 Haslam 1993: 115–116; Cuypers 2004: 95; Ukleja 2005: 279–280; D’Alessio 2007: vol. 1, 32–33; Fantuzzi 2011: 450–451; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012: 133; Giuseppetti 2013: 76–83; Petrovic 2016. More skeptical, without excluding the possibility, Stephens 2015b: 49; 2018b: 103. 12 Callimachus suggests a new divine family in which Leto and her children (Apollo and Artemis) replace Hera and her son Ares; this restructuring of the Olympian family might reflect the family of Ptolemy I: see Stephens 2015b: 51, 2018b: 106; Petrovic 2016.

214  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus kingship. In addition, Callimachus repeatedly throws into relief the thriving of human cities under the benevolent gaze of the praised gods and the mortal suffering undergone when the gods of whom Callimachus sings take on a punitive aspect. One might reasonably suspect that such an analogy serves to praise the rule of the Ptolemies. If that is indeed so, the first hymn with its praise of Zeus is likely to have a significant role both in terms of political commentary and poetic agenda. The hymn is traditional in its subject matter: it comprises the birth of the god (10–31), his rearing and adolescence (31–57), and coming to power (80–90). Since the god is Zeus himself, the poem necessarily assumes the form of a small-scale Theogony,13 which looks forward to the hymns that follow. This is particularly noticeable in lines 58–63, which discuss the division of the three realms among Cronus’s sons. The refutation of the version associated with Homer and Pindar14 allows Callimachus to set up a scheme of analogies between mortal professions and their divine patrons (66–90). The list concludes, as is to be expected, with the praise of Zeus’s superiority and that of his mortal analogues, kings. Still, Callimachus designates the purview of four of Zeus’s children (Hephaestus, Ares, Artemis, and Apollo). Thus he offers his own version of Hesiod’s discourse designating each god’s τιμή in Zeus’s scheme of things. Apart from Artemis and Apollo, who have individual hymns addressed to them, Hephaestus and Ares play a prominent role in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos. One might also suggest that the strong civic aspect of lines 80–90 could very well look ahead to the similar focus in the Hymns on the Bath of Pallas and to Demeter. There is also an unmistakable sense that the universe is still being formed. Time and again in the hymns Callimachus reports the change of names of various locations, reflecting an even older temporal stratum that antedates the birth of the gods. In the Hymn to Zeus this is carried to the extreme through the conflation of mythological variants. An important aspect of Callimachus’s poetic technique in the hymns is to put traditional devices and themes to novel use. The persona loquens starts his discourse in a state of a cognitive aporia: where was Zeus born: in Arcadia or Crete? How can there be two versions? And which is the correct one? Typically, hymns open with a question that intimates the wealth of material that the poet has at his disposal.15 From this, the poet needs to find a niche and present

 13 Kirichenko (2012: 181–184) argues that the order of the Hesiodic allusions in the Hymn to Zeus suggests that Callimachus combines and compresses both the Theogony and the Works and Days through his poem. 14 See the Introduction pp. 12–13. 15 Ukleja 2005: 26–37.

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it as a self-contained unit. Callimachus puts this technique to a scholarly use. He does not assume the voice of the archaic hymnic poet, but that of a Hellenistic scholar faced with an abundance of (often contradictory) material. How is the scholar to reach a conclusion? Without taking a firm stance, Callimachus proceeds in a way that typifies Hellenistic poetic thought. Callimachus does conclude that Zeus was not born on Crete, but he was transported there later. Without invalidating either of them, Callimachus makes the two versions work in tandem with each other, placing them in a time anterior to the fixity of the current cosmos. The existence of two “Thenas,” one in Crete and one in Arcadia, is the hinge upon which Callimachus works his combination.16 But this is only one aspect of his discourse. Even in Crete Callimachus adopts a high-handed attitude towards geography. The two areas associated with Cretan Zeus, Ida and Dicte, are mentioned as if they refer to the same or at least to closely neighboring locations.17 Divine perception does not share mortal weaknesses. So distances and distinctions do not operate in the exact same way as they do for mortals. After all, gods could be present anywhere they like. What point is there for them to insist on emphasizing distances they can transverse in seconds? The rise of Zeus means that the world gradually acquires fixity. Cosmic fixity thus mirrors divine fixity, signaling the end of the theogonic process. From here the poem moves seamlessly to the praise of Zeus as protector of kings and as one who provides a model for the proper organization and ruling of a mortal state.18 Ultimately, Callimachus’s poem suggests that every mortal realm reflects and mirrors Olympus; a well-arranged kingdom brings life on earth closer to the divine model offered by theogonic poetry. Aspects of the same narrative will be repeated in other hymns. Surprisingly for a hymn dedicated to the father of the gods, Callimachus’s Hymn 1 does not praise Zeus as the vanquisher of the Titans or Gaia’s monstrous offspring (the Giants and Typhon). Such a topic would chime well with Ptolemaic considerations: the mortal king imitates Zeus’s victories through his very reign and the defeat of Egypt’s foes. As we shall see, Callimachus does include such a reference in his hymn but relegates it to a perfunctory allusion in the hymn’s opening lines. What is important for Callimachus is Zeus’s birth. This is seen as a turning point in the world’s history, and its significance is hailed in quasi-Egyptian terms: with the creation, that is, of water bodies sustaining life in the dry Arcadian landscape.19 The birth of Zeus heralds the beginning of a new era, and  16 Hopkinson 1988: 126 on 42–54; Stephens 2015b: 47. 17 Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 2, 8. 18 For Callimachus’s gods as protectors of human communities, see Petrovic 2007: 151–153. 19 Stephens 2003: 91–102.

216  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus this realization affects Callimachus’s take on Ptolemaic history and his own poetic practice. Nothing can, or will, be the same again after the birth of Zeus; and similarly the Ptolemaic king has made a change in the world of mortals. If, as it has been argued, the hymn celebrates Ptolemy Philadelphus’s birthday or co-regency,20 Callimachus sees the accession of Ptolemy II as marking a new era that brings prosperity and stability similar to that brought by Zeus. Nonetheless, Callimachus avoids mentioning Ptolemy by name. The identity of the king that Callimachus references becomes less significant than the mythological imagery through which the king is praised.21 Callimachus composes having possible future “reperformances” in mind.22 His hymns operate as transcendent signifiers praising aspects of the royal role that may be true for several members of the Ptolemaic dynasty. Identities are fused in light of the archetypal structures that Callimachus’s hymns promulgate. Bearing this interpretation in mind, Callimachus’s hymn could be easily performed in honor of subsequent kings. It is clear that the major intertext for Callimachus’s hymns are the Homeric hymns and hexameter poetry in general. Pindaric influence, nonetheless, can be found in several of them and in a way that complements the major Homeric or Hesiodic intertexts. The Hymn to Zeus is no exception. The ambiguity regarding Zeus’s birthplace has been seen to reflect a similar ambiguity with regard to the birthplace of Dionysus in a fragment of a Homeric hymn dedicated to this god.23 Though the Homeric bard was not composing with book patterns in mind, for Hellenistic poets, the Hymn to Dionysus was first in the collection of Homeric hymns, and is likely to have served a proemial function; it is on account of this that Callimachus seems to point to the ambiguity of Zeus’s place of birth in his first hymn.24 If Dionysus was the first god to be praised in the corpus of Homeric hymns, the question arises as to why Callimachus decided to open his corpus with a hymn to Zeus. The Hymns to Artemis and Delos foreground the lack of equivalent Homeric hymns calling attention to Callimachus’s innovative streak. The opening question about the most appropriate recipient of libations could have a similar metapoetic significance, signaling Callimachus’s novelty of including a substantive Hymn to Zeus within a collection.25

 20 Clauss 1986; Cuypers 2004: 113; Stephens 2015b: 51. 21 Fantuzzi 2011: 444 with n. 25. 22 Petrovic (2016: 167) has intriguingly raised the possibility of reperformance with regard to Callimachus’s hymns. 23 Stephens 2003: 82–85; 2018b: 103. 24 Hunter and Fuhrer 2002: 173; M.L. West 2011b; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012: 133. 25 Fantuzzi 2011: 449.

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The question about Callimachus’s priorities becomes more pressing if we consider the importance of Dionysus in Ptolemaic religion.26 As has already been suggested, the reasons were probably religious and political. Poetry about the gods begins with the praise of the king of the gods, and Zeus also functioned as the divine model for the Ptolemaic king. Theocritus’s Encomium of Ptolemy Philadelphus brings this home strongly. The Ptolemaic associations of the first hymn make it abundantly clear that the selection of Zeus as the laudandus of this hymn and the position of the hymn in the group of Callimachus’s hymns was a calculated move. The Hesiodic parallel is strong and the various allusions to, even quotations from, the Hesiodic corpus suggest that the lack of a major Homeric hymn to Zeus made Callimachus look elsewhere for inspiration. Along with Hesiod, Pindar appears to be another source. The fragmentary state of Pindar’s poetry about the gods compromises the proper appreciation of his role as a subtext to Hellenistic hymn poetry. The connections we are able to establish between Callimachus’s hymns and Pindar’s victory songs lend strength to the hypothesis that Pindar’s hymns, paeans, and dithyrambs would offer additional points of contact between Pindar and Hellenistic poets. This is particularly true of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus, which alludes to two fields of Pindar’s poetry, his victory songs and his hymns. Our evidence about Pindar’s book of hymns is rather scant. Most fragments derive from quotations by later authors. On this evidence, we can securely reconstruct the titles of only three hymns: to Ammon Zeus (fr. 36 Sn.-M.), Persephone (fr. 37 Sn.–M.), and Apollo Ptoïos (frr. 51a–d Sn.-M.). We are better informed about the first hymn of the book, the content of which can be reconstructed with a higher degree of precision (frr. 29–35 Sn.-M.). Until the publication of Giambattista D’Alessio’s reconstruction of the poem in two important papers (2005; 2009), scholarly consensus followed the reading of Bruno Snell (1975). According to Snell, the first hymn in Pindar’s book of hymns was addressed to Zeus. This would offer a remarkably pertinent parallel to Callimachus’s practice in his book of hymns;27 from this reconstruction, it appears that Callimachus modeled his book of hymns on that of Pindar, and consequently he also dedicates his first hymn to Zeus.28 D’Alessio, however, has cogently suggested that the first Pindaric  26 Fraser 1972: vol. 1, 201–207. 27 D’Alessio (2009: 142) points out the parallel furnished by Alcaeus, whose Alexandrian edition also opens with a hymn to Zeus (fr. 307 Liberman; cf. Porro 1996: 12–13, Liberman 2002: 130–132 with notes). On the other hand, the collection of elegies attributed to Theognis opens with two short hymns to Apollo (1–4, 5–10; cf. Groningen 1966: 9–13). This would parallel opening Pindar’s collection of hymns with a poem dedicated to Apollo. 28 Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004: 371.

218  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus hymn is actually addressed to Apollo, rather than to Zeus.29 This reading removes the similarity in opening a book of hymns with a poem addressed to the same god. Nonetheless, this is not a reason to deny the relevance of Pindar’s first Hymn for our appreciation of Callimachus’s technique in his Hymn to Zeus.30 Indeed most of the fragments suggest that Zeus plays a prominent role in this poem. For a Hellenistic poet, who wants to compose a proemial hymn to Zeus, Pindar offers a pertinent model. In addition to this, Pindar contextualizes the praise of Zeus’s rule in a choral performance of the Muses probably led by Apollo.31 The importance of the latter god for Callimachus is established by the second and fourth hymns as well as the Aetia prologue. Callimachus thus assumes a role parallel to that of Apollo and delivers the praise of Zeus himself. The analogy between praise poet and Apollo is supported by another Pindaric poem that influences Callimachus’s hymn: Pythian 1. Pindar’s first hymn is significant for helping us to understand aspects of Callimachus’s technique in the Hymn to Zeus as well as in the Hymn to Delos. Beside Pindar’s Paeans 5 and 7b, Pindar’s first hymn offers the only other account of the creation of Delos. The surviving fragments of Pindar’s Hymn 1 thus suggest that this hymn provides Callimachus with the idea to start his book of hymns with a hymn to Zeus; it also influences the descriptive context of performance that Callimachus creates and his self-representation therein. In order to facilitate the discussion, the following section provides a survey of the fragments of Pindar’s first hymn, calling attention to the parallels and various points of interest for the reader of Callimachus’s poem.

Pindar’s First Hymn in its Connection to Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus As is clear from the strong Theban coloring of the poem’s opening lines, Pindar’s first hymn is likely to have been commissioned by Thebans. The treatise entitled Demosthenis Encomium (19) that is falsely attributed to Lucian preserves the opening of Pindar’s hymn (fr. 29 Sn.-M.) on account of its particular rhetorical articulation:

 29 D’Alessio 2005a: 127–133; 2009: 139–140. Doubts about the addressee of Pindar’s first hymn had been voiced before D’Alessio’s publications; see Hardie 2000: 35–36 with older bibliography. 30 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012: 134n171. 31 In addition, it seems that Pindar also mentions the creation of Delos and birth of Apollo in a metapoetic frame (Hardie 2000), material that Callimachus uses in his fourth hymn; D’Alessio 2005a: 133–134.

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Ἰσμηνὸν ἢ χρυσαλάκατον Μελίαν ἢ Κάδμον ἢ Σπαρτῶν ἱερὸν γένος ἀνδρῶν ἢ τὰν κυανάμπυκα Θήβαν ἢ τὸ πάντολμον σθένος Ἡρακλέος ἢ τὰν Διωνύσου πολυγαθέα τιμὰν ἢ γάμον λευκωλένου Ἁρμονίας ὑμνήσομεν;

(5)

Shall we sing in praise of Ismenus or Melia with the golden distaff or of Cadmus or the holy race of Spartoi or of Thebe with the dark headband or of the all-daring strength of Heracles or of the honor of Dionysus delighting many or of the marriage of Harmonia of the white arms?

Pindar feigns helplessness in the face of the abundance of the available mythological material for Thebes. The technique is used at the opening of a song once again in Nemean 10. As the ancient scholiast notes there, this is a typical Pindaric mannerism: in order to add prestige to a city, Pindar would combine several of the myths relevant to it.32 Ultimately, the aporia that the Pindaric signer expresses draws on the feigned helplessness of the Homeric aoidos and reworks a standard motif of hymn poetry—that is, that the praised god is εὔυμνος, “celebrated in many songs.”33 Pindar attributes this motif to the city which has commissioned the hymn. With the exception of Heracles and Dionysus, the rest of these lines do not suggest any especial proximity to Zeus.34 On the contrary, the mention of Ismenus and Melia is more pertinent to Apollo, the more so as Apollo fathered Tenerus and Ismenus by the Theban nymph.35 Among the various possibilities for the hymn’s subject matter that Pindar entertains are the river Ismenus, the nymph Melia, the founding mythology of Thebes (comprising Cadmus, the Spartoi, and Thebes herself), and the two prominent Theban demigods, Heracles and Dionysus. In the usual pattern of priamels, these alternatives are turned down in favor of the wedding of Harmonia and Cadmus with which the list culminates. The authors who preserve the above lines offer two further aspects that suggest points of contact with Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus. Pseudo-Lucian focuses

 32 Σ ad Nem. 1a. 33 εὔυμνος: Hymn hom. Apoll. (3) 19–20, 207; Call. Hymn 2.31. Cf. N.J. Richardson 2010: 86 on 19–24. 34 For Zeus’s two sons as benefactors of humans, see Hardie 2000: 20. 35 Cf. Pind. Pae. 9.41–43 (= fr. 52k.41–43 Sn.–M.); Paus. 9.10.5, 9.26.1. See also Hardie 2000: 20.

220  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus on Pindar’s perplexity (aporia).36 As we have already seen, Callimachus opens his hymn with a similar mannerism which, however, is closer to the Homeric Ηymn to Dionysus rather than fr. 29 Sn.-M.37 The Homeric bard catalogues the various locales associated with the birth of Dionysus, before he actually picks the one he prefers as the most likely. Still, by such means the bard communicates the popularity of the cult of Dionysus.38 Pindar, in turn, lends the wedding of Harmonia and Cadmus a particular piquancy by setting it against a rich mythological tradition. His aporia has nothing to do with the fashioning of a persona loquens interested in discerning the truth as is the case in Callimachus. Plutarch (De glor. Ath. 347f–348a) offers a biographical reading of fr. 29 Sn.-M., contextualizing it in the alleged dispute of Pindar with the Boetian poet Corinna. It is claimed that Corinna accused the young Pindar of preferring rare words, rhythms, and an erudite style to the detriment of myths which ought to be the proper business of poetry; Pindar supposedly responded with his first hymn. Ancient tradition considers Corinna to be a contemporary of Pindar, but several modern scholars would date her much later in the Hellenistic period.39 One suspects that such a metapoetic feud, if indeed anterior to Plutarch and available in Callimachus’s times, would be of interest to Callimachus.40 Furthermore, Callimachus’s style and perfunctory mythological allusions are quite close to Pindaric poetry as Plutarch’s Corinna describes it. In Plutarch’s reading of the proem of the hymn, Pindar exhibits his ability to include in just seven lines not one, but four myths. Callimachus follows suit. True, Callimachus does not mention various myths about Zeus41 but mentions different accounts of the same myth. Pindar’s poetic skill is matched by Callimachus’s erudition. The polemical tone that Callimachus adopts in the context of a royal banquet could be said to recall that which Plutarch attributes to the creation of Pindar’s hymn. Callimachus turns first against Cretan traditions that assume that Zeus died (8–9) and later against older poets, whom he does not name, when he discusses the division of Cronus’s kingdom among his three sons (60–65). Even if Plutarch’s reading does not accurately reflect the reception of Pindar’s hymn in the time of Callimachus, one can  36 ὥσπερ οὖν ὁ Πίνδαρος ἐπὶ πολλὰ τῷ νῷ τραπόμενος οὕτως πως ἠπόρηκεν, “as if Pindar, having turned his attention to many subjects, ended up being at a loss.” 37 The similarity consists in the use of the accusative σε following φᾶσιν and the infinitive γενέσθαι: Call. Hymn 1.7–8 (Ζεῦ, σὲ μὲν Ἰδαίοισιν ἐν οὔρεσί φασι γενέσθαι, | Ζεῦ, σὲ δ’ ἐν Ἀρκαδίῃ· πότεροι, πάτερ, ἐψεύσαντο;) ~ Hymn hom. Bacch. (1) 1–7. 38 The motif is traditional as can be seen in Hymn hom. Apollo (3) 20–24. 39 See Carey’s entry in the OCD4. 40 Cf. e.g. Aetia fr. 1 Harder; Iamb 4 (fr. 194 Pf.); Iamb 13 (fr. 203 Pf.). 41 Note, however, the allusion to Zeus’s defeat of the Giants at line 3.

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establish the similar state of aporia regarding the plethora of material and the shared engagement therewith as an assertion of poetic superiority. In other words, the persona that Callimachus constructs for himself in the first lines of his hymn effectively recreates elements that he found in Pindar’s poetry generally and in the first hymn particularly. Pindar prioritizes the myth of Cadmus and Harmonia’s wedding over other parts of Theban mythology. This is a favorite myth with Pindar. Throughout the corpus of epinician odes, Pindar refers to this myth to suggest that Cadmus has reached the highest degree of mortal bliss by marrying a goddess, daughter of Ares.42 The presence of all the gods at the wedding was the crowning moment of Cadmus’s glory. Along with the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, this is the only other wedding to bring together gods and mortals. In Nemean 1, Heracles marries Hebe, the goddess personifying eternal youth. But Heracles is already deified and resident on Olympus. Cadmus and Peleus never become gods; preferential treatment is meted out to them as divine favorites in that they are believed to reside on the Isles of the Blessed. Nonetheless, Pindar is cognizant of a darker side of such myths. Following Achilles’s discourse to Priam in Iliad 24, Pindar does not ignore the ills that befell Cadmus, beloved by the gods though he was.43 Chariclo in Callimachus’s Hymn on the Bath of Athena learns the same bitter lesson: divine favor comes at a cost (85–86). Cadmus saw his line suffer: Semele, Ino, Agaue, and his grandsons, Pentheus and Actaeon, all die cruel deaths. Eventually he too dies in exile away from his home. But, as Pindar reminds us in Olympian 2, this is the lot of mortals. The combination of divine favor and mortal susceptibility to ills renders Cadmus the ideal mythological model for Pindar’s victors. At the pinnacle of his fame, the mortal athlete can be said to resemble Cadmus enjoying the company of gods and goddesses. But what is the importance of the episode in the hymn and how does it connect to Callimachus’s poem? Aelius Aristides (Or. 46 p. 296 Jebb), who preserves fr. 32 Sn.-M., emphasizes aspects of the myth of Cadmus known from their use in victory songs: [καὶ τῆς μεταβολῆς τὸν Κάδμον φησὶν ἀκοῦσαι τοῦ Ἀπόλλωνος] μουσικὰν ὀρθάν ἐπιδεικνυμένου (“and they say that Cadmus heard Apollo’s playing as he was demonstrating true music”). Cadmus may have suffered during his life, but he was also lucky to hear Apollo himself perform “true music” (μουσικὰν ὀρθάν). According to Aristides’s interpretation, Apollo’s “true music” is opposed to music that is sweet, voluptuous, or with melodies suddenly changing (cf. Plutarch De Pythiae  42 See discussion above in Chapter 5 pp. 209–211. 43 Il. 24.534–542 with Griffin 1980: 85–87. On the fate of Cadmus’s descendants, see Pind. Ol. 2.23–30.

222  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus oraculis 397B). At the same time, Aristides goes on, Apollo’s divine music functions as a model for that of Pindar. Accordingly, by describing the attributes of Apollo’s music, Pindar self-referentially praises his own during the performance of the hymn. On this basis, Alex Hardie (2000: 32–35) adds that Apollo’s music has a revelatory quality that fits well with the Theban cosmogony Pindar includes in his hymn. Apollo reveals to Cadmus the “secrets” of the cosmos: access to such knowledge is a further indication of Cadmus’s special position among mortal men. Fr. 32 Sn.-M. is important in that it helps us understand the role Apollo plays in the lost hymn. As the chorus-leader of the divine maidens,44 Apollo regales the guests at Cadmus and Harmonia’s wedding with his songs. There is nothing surprising about the deity fulfilling this role; in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo (187– 206), for example, Apollo leads the divine dance that entertains the Olympic audience. According to another tradition, Apollo is known to have uttered an oracle about Achilles’s invincibility at the wedding of Peleus and Thetis.45 If Iliad 24.62– 63 alludes to this episode, the oracle was part of Apollo’s wedding song: the praise of Achilles adds to the praise of the parents.46 Pindar also presents Apollo leading the chorus of the Muses at the wedding of Peleus and Thetis: the wedding song praises Peleus’s moral rectitude and his reward by Zeus.47 Interestingly, the wedding song is prefaced again by proemial praise of Zeus (25, Διὸς ἀρχόμεναι). These parallels help to contextualize Apollo’s role in the lost hymn. Also, the parallel scene from Nemean 5 associates the praise of the groom with that of Zeus: ultimately, Cadmus and Peleus are allowed to marry goddesses because they obey Zeus’s ordinances. And so, their achievements serve to praise Zeus’s rule. Despite these similarities, it is difficult to determine the actual content of Apollo’s song. One may speculate that this includes praise of Cadmus and Harmonia. However, the surviving fragments suggest that the song is theogonic in character, celebrating Zeus’s wedding to an unspecified goddess and probably concluding with the birth of the Muses. To be more specific, fr. 30 Sn.-M. references the union of Zeus and Themis and the birth of the Horae; the birth of Athena is the subject of fr. 34 Sn.-M. Frr. 33b–d Sn.-M. narrate the birth of Apollo and the creation of Delos. Snell views these fragments as part of the song enumerating  44 For Apollo as divine χορηγός, see Calame 1977: vol. 1, 104–107; Lonsdale 1993: 51–75. 45 Aeschylus TrGF3 fr. 350 Radt; Plato Resp. 383b. 46 So Scodel 1977; against this interpretation Burgess 2004. One may compare Heracles’s prayer for the unborn Ajax in Pindar’s Isthmian 6 (42–56). For praise in wedding-song, see Swift 2010: 245–246. The formula ἔχων φόρμιγγα at Il. 24.63 parallels Apollo’s performance with that of mortal bards such as Demodocus (Od. 8.537) and Phemius (Od. 22.332). See also Od. 23.133. 47 Pind. Nem. 5.22–39.

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Zeus’s wife and children.48 Papyrological considerations, however, have cast doubt on this reconstruction. On the basis of the distance in P. Oxy. 2442 of frr. 33b–d Sn.-M. from fr. 33a Sn.-M., which deals with Heracles’s attack on Kos, D’Alessio (2005a: 127; 2009: 139) has suggested that the birth of Apollo and the creation of Delos were part of the frame, not of the embedded song.49 There is considerable uncertainty about the rest of the surviving fragments. For instance, fr. 35 Sn.-M. describes the release of the Titans from their prison. No doubt this relates to the establishment of Zeus’s rule, but there is no telling if this belongs to the frame or the Muses’ song. Also, one cannot tell how extensive the section on Zeus’s progeny is. The episode of Athena’s birth does not seem to need more than one line. In theory, Pindar could dispose with the majority of the Olympian gods quite quickly. Fr. 31 Sn.-M., again from Aelius Aristides (Or. 45, p. 106 Jebb), specifies the conditions under which the Muses were created:50 during Zeus’s wedding feast, Zeus asked the gods whether they needed any more gods to celebrate his creation of the cosmos with their poetry and music. Apparently, the inability of the other gods to praise Zeus leads to the creation of the Muses, who under the leadership of Apollo offer the model for the Theban chorus performing Pindar’s hymn. Aspects of Pindar’s discourse thus start to emerge. First, Apollo’s song praises Cadmus through a juxtaposition of Cadmus’s wedding with that of Zeus.51 Fr. 31 Sn.-M. indicates that Zeus is praised not as a military victor but rather in his capacity as creator of the world. Potentially, Apollo praises Cadmus’s role as king and founder of Thebes: the use of an analogy between a mortal king and Zeus is also found in Pythian 1, Callimachus’s hymns, and Theocritus 17. In addition, if scholars are right, Apollo’s song at Cadmus and Harmonia’s wedding ends in a self-reflective manner, providing the aition for the musical and poetic activity of the god—the birth, that is, of the Muses. The circumstances under which the Muses are created by Zeus suggest that the birth of poetic activity is inextricably associated with the role of poets as purveyors of praise. Pindar’s imitation of a divine choreia, as Hardie (2000) has argued, offers a revelation of the structures of the cosmos, conferring upon Pindar’s poetry a revelatory quality. Pindar’s poetry thus becomes the bridge that allows access to the mythical world of Cadmus.

 48 Cf. Hesiod’s Theog. 886–929. 49 D’Alessio (2005b) hypothesizes that the embedded song of the Muses could have circulated independently, thus causing the erroneous classification of the entire poem as a Hymn to Zeus. 50 See also Hardie 2000: 32–35, who detects an echo of this myth in Philo of Alexandria. 51 Snell 1975: 89–91.

224  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus As we have seen, Callimachus conveys a similar message in his first Hymn, and it is quite possible that the idea occurred to him under Pindaric influence. A second aspect of Pindar’s discourse concerns the juxtaposition of the birth of Apollo with that of the Muses. It could well be that this effected the transition from the frame to the embedded song.52 The birth of Apollo is relevant inasmuch as Apollo is the leader of the chorus of Muses. In addition, as Hardie (2000: 26–30) notes, the use of ὀρθός in the description of the creation of Delos (fr. 33d.5 Sn.-M.) associates the birth of Apollo with the creation of true music, the kind of music also practiced by Pindar. In this regard, the birth of Apollo brings music to the world, and this act is completed by the creation of the Muses. The wedding of Cadmus and Harmonia functions as a narrative textual expedient through which Pindar offers his hymn to Zeus embedded in what is quite probably a song about Apollo. Apollo is praised as performer, and his role in the hymn is a trademark of the Pindaric conception of this god in other odes as well, particularly Pythian 1. Father and son are brought together, with the poet focusing on the similarities between their respective roles: Apollo’s narrative recasts Zeus’s theogonic activity in a poetic medium. Such comparisons are traditional and permeate literary representations of Apollo. The Homeric Hymn to Apollo, for instance, juxtaposes Zeus’s defeat of Typhon with Apollo’s victory over Python. In so doing, the epic bard praises Apollo’s role in upholding the rule and order of Zeus. Apollonius, we will see in a later chapter, presents Apollo in a similar light juxtaposing Zeus’s defeat of his opponents with Apollo killing Tityos among the depictions on Jason’s cloak. Pindar’s uniqueness consists of representing and praising Apollo as the praise poet of Zeus’s rule. Apollo takes an active interest in supporting Zeus by killing opponents that resemble Zeus’s foes, thus reenacting Zeus’s archetypal victory. Still, Apollo is also the one who celebrates and commemorates the victories of his father. A variation of this is offered in Pythian 1 where Apollo’s choreia not only celebrates the rule of his father but comes to stand for it in that the choral performance annoys Zeus’s enemies. From this point of view, one can also evaluate the pertinence of Apollo’s song. Apollo’s hymn may appear irrelevant to its immediate context, but this is far from true. Pindar imitates Hesiod here. In the opening section of the Theogony, Hesiod presents the Muses singing a hymn to their father, which then extends to his offspring and the honors they receive under Zeus’s rule, and concludes with the race of heroes. Pindar’s Apollo offers a lyric variation of the Muses’ hymn. In particular, the theme of Zeus’s marriages to goddesses is typical

 52 D’Alessio 2009: 139.

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of the ideological structures through which Hesiod operates in that poem.53 Apollo starts first with Zeus’s union with Themis and proceeds to the births of the major Olympic gods. Through the expedient of the embedded hymn, Pindar merges the performance of his poem with that of Apollo. Along the interpretative lines established by William Mullen (1982: 58–59, 65), the members of Pindar’s chorus imitate and reenact54 the divine chorus celebrating the wedding of the Theban hero. The mythological context of performance would thus be relevant to the Theban chorus. Pindar himself parallels Apollo, a juxtaposition found also in Pythian 1. Through the celebration of Apollo the Thebans celebrate Zeus himself, indicating the close connection between father and son. With regard to the wedding episode itself, we ought to consider the opening of the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women.55 The Hesiodic poet frames his genealogies by referring to a time when gods and mortals would share feasts and councils, as Pindar refers to an era in which human interaction with deities was normal. This belongs to the past. Pindar suggests, however, that the celebration of the hymn becomes the conduit through which mortals can meet immortals again. In this regard, the Thebans who commissioned the hymn imitate the bliss of their forefather. Cadmus was deemed worthy of marrying a goddess and partaking in the gods’ banquet. Other mortals like Tantalus (Olympian 1) and Ixion (Pythian 2) were not as prudent as he was.56 The inhabitants of Thebes share Cadmus’s good fortune by witnessing the same banquet, even if just for a moment, through the performance of Pindar’s hymn.57 The first point of contact between Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus and Pindar’s hymn concerns the importance of the embedded theogony in Pindar’s hymn. Despite the lacunose state in which it has been preserved, this part of Pindar’s discourse has points of contact with similar content in Callimachus’s first Hymn and can provide a pertinent parallel for the arrangement of Callimachus’s hymns in a collection. To be sure, Callimachus does not follow either Hesiodic or Pindaric theogonies closely. Still, the division of the cosmic realm among Cronus’s sons is

 53 For Zeus’s marriages and their significance, see Solmsen 1949: 34–45. 54 For this function of mortal choruses, see particularly Kurke 2012. 55 Fr. 1.6–7 M.–W. ξυναὶ γὰρ τότε δαῖτες ἔσαν, ξυνοὶ δὲ θόωκοι | ἀθανάτοις τε θεοῖσι καταθνητοῖς τ’ ἀνθρώποις. 56 For Tantalus and Ixion as negative examples, see Most 1985: 76–86. 57 My analysis is indebted here to Kurke’s 2012: 224–226 “technology of presencing” and “intersubjective fusion of choreuts and audience,” which refer to the idea that the gods are felt as being present through the effect that choral singing and dance has on the audience and the subsequent inclusion of dancers and audiences in the divine festivity.

226  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus followed by a short list of Zeus’s children with a clear demarcation of their authority and purview; Zeus himself is praised as protector of kings. A prominent position is given to Apollo, and by extension to his protégés, the poets, since they uphold the rule of Zeus and earthly kings by conferring praise upon them. The special relationship between Apollo and his father as well as the political role of poets in confirming authority are two motifs that bring Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus quite close to that of Pindar. Callimachus also shares Pindar’s perspective: praise of Zeus is possible and predicated on the existence of proper poetry; a hymn to Zeus is inevitably linked to a hymn to Apollo. Without a doubt, such a mannerism is not inevitable, but it is conditioned in the case of both Pindar and Callimachus by their decision to focus on Zeus’s political aspect as a civic god, protector of states and communities, rather than on his militaristic aspect as vanquisher of hubristic monsters. The theogony in Pindar’s first hymn could also explain aspects of the arrangement of Callimachus’s hymns in book format. Apart from the Hymn to Zeus, Pindar’s hymn contains material that is also relevant to the central hymn in Callimachus’s group, the Hymn to Delos. The combination of praise of Apollo with that of Zeus in the first Pindaric hymn reflects the close association of the two gods. Callimachus preserves traces of this in his Hymn to Zeus. Still, Callimachus also reflects the closeness of Apollo and Zeus by positioning his Hymn to Apollo right after that dedicated to Apollo’s father. A special role in this arrangement of the first four of Callimachus’s hymns is played by the motif of the god’s birth. Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus shares with Pindar’s first Hymn a common interest in the birth of gods. Callimachus focuses on that of Zeus, while Pindar on that of Apollo and the creation of Delos. In both cases, the birth of the god marks a turning point in the history of the world: the birth of Zeus ushers in a new era of divine stability and safety; that of Apollo, and of the Muses, symbolically concludes the cosmogonic process in that it makes possible the appreciation of Zeus’s role. Despite the parallels of both Pindar and the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, Callimachus excludes the birth of Apollo from his Hymn to Apollo, treating this episode in his Hymn to Delos. The association of Apollo’s birth with the creation of Delos harks back to Pindar’s text. Apollo’s birth is placed at a central position in the collection framed by two pairs of hymns on both sides (Hymns to Apollo and Artemis, and Hymns on the Bath of Pallas and to Demeter, respectively), with that to Zeus functioning as a proem. From this vantage point, consideration of Pindar’s hymn underlines the prominent position and importance of Apollo for Callimachus’s hymns. In addition to Apollo and Delos, one can also mention the presence of Athena in Pindar’s theogony as a possible comparandum for Callimachus’s hymn, since it also describes her birth at line 135 (cf. fr. 34 Sn.–M.). Perhaps the

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prevalence of Theban mythology (myths of Teiresias and Actaeon) in Callimachus’s fifth Hymn reflects the Theban cosmogony and its setting at Cadmus’s wedding in Pindar’s poem. A further point of contact between the hymns of Pindar and Callimachus is the descriptive context of performance both poets envision. There is no indication in the surviving fragments about how Pindar represents himself in the text of the hymn (if he did at all). The embedded hymn to Zeus is performed at a wedding banquet by Apollo and the Muses. Callimachus’s Hymn is also placed in a banquet.58 The exact nature of the banquet is left vague, but one could posit a royal banquet along the lines of those described in the Epistle of Aristaeus.59 Such a narrative context would offer a convincing parallel for the scholarly question posed at the beginning of the hymn.60 In addition, the Icus fragment of the Aetia (fr. 178 Harder) also suggests that banquets are the appropriate place for the discussion of poetic material.61 But the discussion in Callimachus’s first hymn is not carried out for its own sake. It has a manifest rhetorical function–that is, the praise of Zeus’s rule and through that of his earthly equivalent, the Ptolemaic monarch. Pindar’s discourse operates on the basis of a double analogy: one existing between Zeus and Cadmus, as rulers and grooms, founders of worlds which they arrange according to their wisdom; the other, between Apollo and Pindar as praise poets. Callimachus replicates both analogies. Both in his description of Apollo’s role in this hymn and in the second one, Callimachus views himself in a Pindaric fashion as the mortal equivalent of Apollo but also suggests an analogy between Zeus and Ptolemy. Consequently, Ptolemy is raised to a position similar to that of Cadmus. In the opening lines of Theocritus 17, the deified Ptolemy I enjoys the company of the gods along with his forefathers, Heracles and Alexander the Great. D’Alessio’s (2005a; 2009) appreciation of Heracles’s role in Pindar’s first hymn offers a final point of interest of this hymn for a Ptolemaic audience. Pindar’s hymn opens by mentioning Zeus’s Theban sons: Heracles and Dionysus. The Ptolemaic relevance of both these figures would call attention to their association with both Apollo and Zeus as we can also see in Theocritus’s Encomium of Ptolemy Philadelphus.

 58 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012: 2. 59 Hunter 2011; Wright 2015. 60 Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 2, 1; Cahen 1930: 8–9. Cuypers (2002: 106–107) associates this fictional context with the intertextual relationship Callimachus establishes between his hymn and the Platonic Symposium. 61 Aetia fr. 178 Harder = 89 Massimlla: cf. Dettori 2004.

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Pindaric and Callimachean Metapoetics Pindaric influence can also be detected in a series of statements that Callimachus makes in the Hymn to Zeus and which recall characteristics of Pindar’s discourse.62 One such example, which we have already mentioned in the Introduction, concerns Callimachus’s revision of the myth about the division of the universe among the three sons of Cronus (57–67): δηναιοὶ δ’ οὐ πάμπαν ἀληθέες ἦσαν ἀοιδοί· φάντο πάλον Κρονίδῃσι διάτριχα δώματα νεῖμαι· τίς δέ κ’ ἐπ’ Οὐλύμπῳ τε καὶ Ἄϊδι κλῆρον ἐρύσσαι, ὃς μάλα μὴ νενίηλος; ἐπ’ ἰσαίῃ γὰρ ἔοικε πήλασθαι· τὰ δὲ τόσσον ὅσον διὰ πλεῖστον ἔχουσι. ψευδοίμην, ἀίοντος ἅ κεν πεπίθοιεν ἀκουήν. οὔ σε θεῶν ἑσσῆνα πάλοι θέσαν, ἔργα δὲ χειρῶν, σή τε βίη τό τε κάρτος, ὃ καὶ πέλας εἵσαο δίφρου.

(60)

(65)

Old poets were not entirely truthful; they claimed that the three sons of Cronus divided his palaces by lot; who would draw lots for Olympus and Hades but he who is very foolish? For one draws lots for things of equal value; these differ from each other the most. May I tell lies that could convince those listening. It was not lots who made you king of the gods, but the deeds of your hands, your strength and power, which you keep by your throne.

Unlike Hesiod, Callimachus does not narrate Zeus’s struggles against the older generation of gods (Titans) or the various monsters that challenged his supremacy (Giants, Typhon). Callimachus often avoids material that he expects to be well-known to his audience.63 However, the evidence of other poems, for instance of the Victoria Berenices (fr. 54h Harder), suggests that Callimachus could always say so if that was his intention. Even though one cannot exclude metapoetic concerns in Callimachus’s authorial choice, arguments from silence are not entirely convincing. The omission of these important episodes in Zeus’s mythology is  62 See also Fuhrer 1988; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 120–122. 63 Kirichenko 2012: 195 argues that Callimachus expunges from the Hesiodic account all those elements that would give the wrong impresion of divinity and that he does so under the influence of the Platonic distinction (Resp. 382b–c) between good and bad lies (194–200). This reading is based on Kirichenko’s interpretation of the ambiguous line 65, which I do not follow (see also below). Even so, the aesthetic principles that Kirichenko attributes to Callimachus in his revisionist approach towards the Hesiodic myth tally with my comparison of Callimachus’s and Pindar’s aesthetics.

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likely to have been occasioned by political considerations.64 To be more specific, Callimachus avoids Hesiodic material not only because of metapoetic concerns but also in order to throw into relief his version of the divine succession. In Hesiod, Zeus is the indisputable heir to Cronus’s throne inasmuch as he defeats all other contenders. None of his brothers dare challenge Zeus (Theog. 881–885). His throne is thus based on his military victories. Callimachus provides no such information. Instead, he offers ambiguous and generic remarks about Zeus’s precocious childhood: Zeus grew into maturity quickly and, in spite of his young age, carried out all his plans successfully (57). Also, the juxtaposition of youth and success influences the way in which Zeus’s older brothers, Hades and Poseidon, view him. They willingly yield up Cronus’s throne to him. What Zeus’s plans entail, we are never told, but one might suspect that this involves the clash with the Titans. Ancient tradition wavers in the order of Cronus’s sons: in some accounts Zeus is the oldest (Il. 13.355; 15.166; Od. 13.142) and in others, the youngest (Hesiod Theog. 457; 478–479). Some traditions found a way around this difficulty by explaining that as the liberator of his siblings Zeus became in effect the oldest son—Cronus’s regurgitating Poseidon and Hades counts as a second birth. Callimachus takes advantage of this ambiguity in order to pattern divine history in a way which reflects favorably on contemporary political realities. It has been suggested, that is, that Callimachus quite likely alludes here to the troubles that followed the succession of Ptolemy I Soter.65 Ptolemy II Philadelphus, although the youngest of his brothers, became first co-regent and then succeeded his father. The deviation from Hesiod’s narrative serves political purposes that shape the form of Callimachus’s narrative. Callimachus goes a step further. He backs up the account he disseminates with his own poetic and scholarly authority. Harking back to earlier accounts, Callimachus chides older poets for their lies. He is believed, not implausibly, to attack Homer (Il. 15.187–193) and possibly even Pindar (Olympian 7.54–57). These accounts claim that the three sons of Cronus divided the universe among themselves by drawing lots. Callimachus is vehement in his denunciation of the simplemindedness of such accounts. One should be νενίηλος to believe in such lies. The word is a hapax (cf. LSJ9 s.v.). Hesychius (ν 299) glosses it as “blind,” “struck

 64 Cahen 1930: 29–30 notes on vv. 55–67 and 57. 65 Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 2, 10–11; McLennan 1977: 95; Clauss 1986; Cuypers 2004: 113; D’Alessio 2007: vol.1, 72–73n18; Petrovic 2007: 121. Contra Meillier 1979: 64–67, 76–78 who considers Ptolemy I Soter as the addressee of the poem. Fantuzzi 2011: 444–445 considers both Ptolemy I Soter and Ptolemy II Philadelphus as the possible laudandi.

230  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus dumb” or “foolish,”66 while Wilamowitz (1924, vol. 2, 13) considers it a term used by children. Both interpretations capture something of the immediate context. Callimachus castigates the foolishness of the mainstream version on the grounds that it lacks verisimilitude. “Who,” asks Callimachus, “could consider Hades equal to Olympus? No one!” So, it is unlikely that the three gods did as older poets suggest. Anyone who fails to see the logic in this could be described as being blind (Hesychius’s interpretation) or dumb. Since blindness was by this time a standard aspect of Homer’s identity,67 this could be a slight to Homer himself, who gives such an account in the Iliad. On the other hand, if Wilamowitz is right to consider νενίηλος as a token of “children’s talk” (Kindersprache), then Callimachus’s comment could be brought in line with his description of Zeus’s growing up. Zeus shows himself wiser in his thoughts than one would expect of a child. Adult poets fail miserably, by comparison, having thoughts appropriate to children. Accepting the stories of old would mean demonstrating a remarkable lack of acumen which would tempt one to question Zeus’s supremacy. Callimachus’s objection to the mainstream account of Zeus’s succession is motivated by concerns about truthfulness (60; 65) and verisimilitude (63–64). Zeus won the kingship of gods by his sheer strength and wisdom. Criticism of older versions on account of truthfulness and/or verisimilitude is a characteristically Pindaric attitude. In view of the connection between Pindar and Callimachus argued for in the previous section, it is worthwhile to compare and contrast the attitude each poet adopts with regard to mythological versions they revise or reject. As I argue, Callimachus’s pronouncement has a clear Pindaric ring to it, bringing the Hymn to Zeus in line with Pindar’s program in Olympian 1. The proemial position of both poems, in Callimachus’s collection of hymns and Pindar’s Hellenistic edition respectively, supports this connection and emphasizes the special significance that Callimachus bestows upon his first Hymn.68 In Olympian 1 Pindar turns against older accounts about Pelops: Pelops could not have been dissected by Tantalus nor served to the gods. Instead, claims Pindar, Pelops was abducted by Poseidon. This is why Pelops disappeared. The earlier account is envious slander (47), like the lies awaiting the victorious athlete.69 The revision of the myth mirrors a staple theme of epinician ideology (the hero is  66 νενίηλος· τυφλός. ἀπόπληκτος. ἀνόητος. See also Cahen 1930, McLennan 1977, Stephens 2015a ad loc. 67 Graziosi 2002: 125–163. 68 The implications of placing Olympian 1 at the start of the Hellenistic edition of Pindar are discussed by Phillips 2016: 122–142. 69 ἔννεπε κρυφᾷ τις αὐτίκα φθονερῶν γειτόνων. One notes in particular the secrecy in which the neighbors express their envy; cf. Pyth. 1.84; Nem. 8.26.

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exposed to slanderous remarks) and leads to the mention of another motif of epinician discourse, divine support of the victor. Pelops was abducted by Poseidon (25–26), and on account of Poseidon’s support he successfully defeated Oenomaus in the race for the hand of Hippodameia. Pindar’s changes are motivated by religious scruples concerning the representation of gods in traditional mythology. Nonetheless, Pindar effects a change in the profile of Pelops that brings the hero closer to being an appropriate paragon for the victor. Poseidon is attracted by the beauty of Pelops; this trait is seen as a sign of his prowess and is treated as a precondition for Pelops’s success. Ultimately, Pelops emerges as a victorious and successful youth, not the helpless victim of either Tantalus’s cruelty or of his neighbors’ slander. In a sense Pindar, as is expected of a praise poet, protects the credentials of the hero by altering the myth, and it is in this respect, I would suggest, that he offers a suitable parallel to or model for Callimachus. Drawing lots does not do justice to Zeus’s credentials as a victor, and it is Callimachus’s duty, like that of Pindar before him, to correct this by suggesting an image of Zeus that is suitable to Callimachus’s laudandus, Ptolemy II. In both poems, then, the characterization of Pelops and Zeus respectively is revisited in an effort to make them more appropriate to the praise discourse of the poem in question and, as we shall see shortly, its occasion. Pelops’s chariot race hints at Hieron’s prospects of securing such a prestigious victory at Olympia. The emphasis on Zeus’s precocity rather than on his military successes foregrounds an aspect of the father of the gods, which is closer to Ptolemy’s profile.70 Callimachus’s lapidary style alludes to Zeus’s victories over numerous foes without going into too many details. What causes the poet’s reaction concerns a detail of the old account—the division by drawing lots. Callimachus is quite specific that the older bards were not entirely truthful (60, δηναιοὶ δ’ οὐ πάμπαν ἀληθέες ἦσαν ἀοιδοί).71 Still, he does not come up with a new version tout court. Instead, he selects part of the wealthy tradition and so underscores his claims to truthfulness, diffracting putative criticism of his lying to please Ptolemy. In addition to the general attitude Callimachus adopts, there is a further point of contact with Pindar that concerns technique, strengthening the relevance of the Pindaric ode for understanding Callimachus’s discourse. Pindar does not turn down all

 70 Stephens 2018b: 75–76 underlines Ptolemy II’s association with peace and prosperity in Ptolemaic poetry. 71 Note the use of πάμπαν, which implies that Callimachus recognizes a modicum of truth in the version he rejects—that is, that Zeus stills becomes the ruler of the universe even though the manner in which he does is different.

232  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus aspects of the older account. He artfully acknowledges some degree of truthfulness in it by considering Pelops’s ivory shoulder as a congenital mark of excellence and beauty (25–27), rather than just an implant meant to make up for the part that Demeter ate. Preserving part of the negated account adds to the effectiveness of the new one.72 Pindar retains the detail of Pelops’s ivory shoulder for two reasons: first, he intimates the beauty, and so the prowess of the young hero; second, as the mark was present at birth it reflects the importance of innate excellence.73 Both elements, as we have seen, are traditional in Pindar’s praise program and so render Pelops an appropriate paragon for Hieron. In addition, the ivory shoulder was exhibited in Olympia, where Hieron competed.74 Consequently, Pindar may well have thought that this was a part of the traditional story he just could not give up. Pindar’s rhetorical pose sets the model for that of Callimachus. A further point of contact is that neither Pindar nor Callimachus name the exponents of the version they reject. Callimachus speaks generally of ἀοιδοί, which can include both epic and lyric poets. Along similar lines, Pindar declares that he will speak against older men without even limiting his target to those within the community of fellow poets: “son of Tantalus, I shall speak of you in terms contradictory to older men” (36, υἱὲ Ταντάλου, σὲ δ’ ἀντία προτέρων φθέγξομαι). By widening the pool of his opponents, Pindar sets himself against a widely circulating tradition: in this he emphasizes his didactic stance, appealing to the community outside the circle of poets. Although the reasons for Pindar’s chagrin are somewhat different from those of Callimachus, they emanate from the same ideological basis—that is, concern for truth and verisimilitude. It is usually assumed that religious scruples prevent Pindar from accepting the older account (52–53):75 ἐμοὶ δ’ ἄπορα γαστρίμαργον μακάρων τιν’ εἰπεῖν· ἀφίσταμαι· ἀκέρδεια λέλογχεν θαμινὰ κακαγόρους.

(52)

It is beyond me to accuse any of the blessed ones of gluttony; I keep my distance. Slanderers have rarely been rewarded.

 72 See, in particular, Sigelman 2016: 178–181. 73 Gerber 1982: 58; Degani and Burzacchini 2005: 336–337; Catenacci 2013: 366 ad loc. 74 Paus. 5.13.6; Pliny Nat. Hist. 28.34. 75 Gerber 1982: 87–91; Catenacci 2013: 373–374.

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However, a closer reading of the text suggests that Pindar’s scruples are contextualized within a wider generic discourse, and concern Pindar’s role as praise poet. As Pindar claims, ἀκέρδεια (literally, “want of gain” or “loss” [LSJ9 s.v.]), is the usual reward for slanderous individuals (κακογόρους). Accepting the traditional story that Demeter ate Pelops’s shoulder would bring Pindar in line with Tantalus’s impiety, calling the punishment of the gods upon him.76 Similarly, in Olympian 9 when he describes Heracles’s defeat of Poseidon, Apollo, and Hades at Pylos, Pindar exclaims (35–38):77 ἀπό μοι λόγον τοῦτον, στόμα, ῥῖψον· ἐπεὶ τό γε λοιδορῆσαι θεούς ἐχθρὰ σοφία

(35)

Cast aside, mouth, this story; for speaking ill of the gods is hateful poetry.

Censorship of previous or competitive accounts is again cast in terms of religious piety, although Pindar does not negate the veracity of the myth of Heracles attacking Poseidon, Apollo, and Hades at Pylos.78 Piety in this context does not refer to personal religion or devotion. Rather, I use the term in the manner established by Mircea Eliade (1965). For the religious individual, argues Eliade, myths contain stories about the gods from time immemorial. These stories are reenacted, and imitated, during religious festivals, thus allowing mortals to come into contact with the gods again.79 Inasmuch as Pindar’s victors imitate or resemble the heroes of mythological times (e.g. Pelops or Heracles), one is allowed to talk of sacredness or piety in his poetry too. Against this background, speaking ill of the gods would go against a central aspect of praise poetry and would compromise the standing of the mythological material used. This aspect of Pindar’s poetic agenda appeals to Callimachus. Time and again Callimachus expresses his metapoetic statements in terms of divine approval or disapproval either by the Muses or Apollo himself. The implication seems to be that in composing his poetry Callimachus imitates Apollo himself—a

 76 Sigelman 2016: 180. 77 For this parallel, see Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 2, 10n3. 78 Angeli Bernardini 1983: 133–137. 79 Eliade 1965: 63–100.

234  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus trope, we have seen, Callimachus inherits from Pindar. To go a step further: identifying his detractors with the Telchines in the Aetia prologue, Callimachus invests scholarly or poetic feuds with unmistakable religious connotations. In the story of Acontius and Cydippe, the Telchines are destroyed on account of their insults to the gods (fr. 75.64–69 Harder). From this point of view, the conclusion seems unavoidable that conducting oneself in a poetically inappropriate way can lead to divine hatred. Both Pindar and Callimachus agree in this regard. Ultimately considering the religious undertones in the metapoetic discourse both poets use leads to issues of how they both view their role as poets and their relationship to their respective communities. Pindar defines his role as that of communicating truths. Such truths, as Hilary Mackie (2003: 67–75) explains, are not to be seen as abstract ethical or epistemological concepts. “[The epinician poet] defines ‘truth’ in terms of what is ‘fitting’,” argues Mackie (2003: 74), adding that “what is ‘fitting’ is determined with reference not to ethical appropriateness in any abstract, objective, or permanent sense, but to the more immediate needs of the epinician performance—by whatever the present occasion demands” (75).80 If scholars are right in seeing a Ptolemaic relevance in Hymn 1, Callimachus, in the manner of Pindar before him, also selects the account which best suits the occasion. The criteria either poet uses may be different but the approach and the result are similar. While Pindar is motivated by pious considerations, or at least this is what he wants his audience to believe, Callimachus approaches the older version with the judiciousness appropriate to a scholar. In the same way as he approaches the two accounts of Zeus’s birthplace, so he also discusses the accounts of Zeus’s succession. Callimachus’s treatment of such ambiguities offers a full gamut of scholarly approaches to such debates: combination of both or preference for one of the two. Both Pindar and Callimachus subscribe to the concept of the poet as a practitioner “who exercises superior judgement regarding the existing mortal traditions.”81 The ivory shoulder that myth attributed to Pelops is the rhetorical hinge upon which Pindar builds his own poetic manifesto. Lines 28–35 in Olympian 1 provide a succinct description of Pindar’s outlook on the role of poets. At the very outset, Pindar juxtaposes the rumors of men (28–28b, βροτῶν φάτις) with true speech (28b, ὑπὲρ τὸν ἀλαθῆ λόγον). The genitive βροτῶν implies the limited, flawed perception of mortals as opposed to that of gods and Pindar. Pindar’s account ultimately manifests divine knowledge and so claims a higher authority than that of  80 Similarly Walsh 1984: 40–49 talks about “function suitability” and καιρός “right occasion.” 81 Mackie 2003: 70.

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the average slanderer.82 Nonetheless, lies succeed in deceiving people on account of their artfulness. Accounts such as the one concerning Pelops (29, μῦθοι) are artfully wrought with varied lies (29, δεδαιδαλμένοι ψεύδεσι ποικίλοις). The participle δεδαιδαλμένοι harks back to the activity of Daedalus, the Cretan artist.83 Daedalus concealed the truth through his creations and misled others: he created the wooden cow that hid Pasiphaë and the Labyrinth for the Minotaur. The artfulness of poetic accounts covers up their falsehoods. Pindar summarizes this as χάρις, a divine power of bewitching that produces pleasure (30). To make matters worse, χάρις bestows τιμή (“honor”) upon false accounts and renders “plausible” (πιστόν) what is “impossible to believe” (ἄπιστον). It is time that helps one to discern between lies and truth (Olympian 10.53–55). Callimachus and Pindar agree that all poets have the same armory of divine inspiration at their disposal. χάρις is available to the truthful and not-so-truthful poet. It is the use they make of χάρις that sets the former apart from the latter. The account about Pelops that Pindar denigrates is charged with lies and a lack of plausibility. Similarly, Callimachus accuses Homer of lies and a lack of verisimilitude. If, as is usually assumed, Pindar is one of the δηναῖοι ἀοιδοί, the fact that Callimachus uses a Pindaric mannerism against Pindar creates added irony.84 These considerations may cast some fresh light on the ambiguous line 65 (ψευδοίμην, ἀίοντος ἅ κεν πεπίθοιεν ἀκουήν). Some scholars suggest that Callimachus undermines the truth value of his version of Zeus’s myth by admitting that he too “would lie about those things that could convince those listening.”85 This utterance is seen as reflecting a far wider agenda that also permeates the hymn as a whole and particularly the ambiguities of the poetic voice at line 8.86 The sweeping generalization that all Cretans are liars is usually attributed to either Epimenides of Crete or the Cretan Zeus himself.87 In either case, the Cretan affiliation of the speaking person undercuts the truth value of the statement and consequently the rationale behind Callimachus’s scholarly choices. Kirichenko (2012) sees line 65 as a Platonic reflex indicating Callimachus’s belief in the falsehood of all mythological narratives. This is certainly possible, but not the only plausible interpretation of the line. Callimachus’s statement does not necessarily  82 For this aspect of Pindar’s persona in Hellenistic receptions of Pindaric poetry, see Phillips 2016: 92–101. For the poet’s authoritative knowledge of the past as opposed to his audience, see Mackie 2003: 69–71. 83 Gerber 1982: 63 ad loc. 84 The technique is paralleld in the Victoria Sosibii; see the discussion in Chapter 1. 85 Ukleja 2005: 32–34; Kirichenko 2012: 185. 86 Lüddecke 1998. 87 Ukleja 2005: 30 with further references.

236  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus imply that the mythological details he maintains are false even if they could be. Raising the possibility of lying does not equate with an explitic declaration that one is lying.88 This attitude was canonized in Greek poetry by the Muses themselves at the opening of the Hesiodic Theogony.89 Callimachus’s point seems akin to that Pindar makes. Pindar declares that χάρις is common to both truthful and lying poets. Is there a criterion to distinguish between the two? He does not name one, but demonstrates through his own poetry what the audience should look for. Along similar lines, Callimachus posits that lies are open to all poets alike. Plausibility, as suggested through his own hymn, separates outright lies from truth. Both poets are ambiguous in that they do not completely sever their ties with the version(s) they criticize: they retain elements from the rejected version(s) incorporating them into their own poems. Both Pindar and Callimachus may seem to undermine their position by failing to insist on robust distinctions between truthful and false poetry. But in so doing, they also reflect Hesiod’s influence on their aesthetics. As George Walsh (1984: 33) explains in his discussion of Hesiod’s Theogony, Hesiod does not insist on the different effects that true and false songs have: “All song brings forgetfulness and memory, but true song brings its listeners forgetfulness of cares while it preserves their memory of the things it celebrates (Theog. 53–55; 98–105). […] If false song produces a different and less happy effect, there must be another sort of forgetfulness that obscures the things song professes to describe but leaves undisturbed in memory the listener’s cares.” Consequently, Walsh (1984: 36) continues, “the psychology of the audience becomes a reliable index of the singer’s truthfulness.” Callimachus calibrates this technique through his targeting not the psychology, but the intellect of his audience. Engaging in a similar game to Hesiod, Callimachus invites his readers to make up their minds on the basis of how each account makes them feel. In the manner of Pindar, Callimachus gives voice to the frustration he feels on account of his place in the tradition. Coming late means having to deal with a plurality of accounts. Both poets suggest that truth is relevant to the exigencies of the respective occasion. At the same time, they both take it upon themselves to instruct their audiences on how to interpret myths in poetry.

 88 Cuypers 2004: 103, detects here the influence of the epistemology of the Academic sceptics. However, Callimachus does not speak of his uncertainty about the truth but rather about lack of reasonableness. 89 Fantuzzi 2011: 445–446, who also suggests that Callimachus updates in a rationalist manner Hesiod’s manifesto.

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Kirichenko (2012: 200) suggests that Callimachus bowdlerizes the Hesiodic stories of the Titanomachy and Gigantomachy because he wants to produce a poem closer to an “urban aesthetic ideal.” This interpretation, however, ignores the relevance of such stories for the Egyptian side of Ptolemaic kingship, where the pharaoh is expected to defeat chaos. Callimachus is not only aware of this reality, but he incorporates it in his poetic vision of Ptolemaic kingship in other poems by representing the Celtic invaders of the Hymn to Delos as Titans. In addition, as we will shortly see, there is a passing reference to this cycle of myths at line three of the Hymn to Zeus. More important than these objections, one cannot help but wonder what the rhetorical payoff of Callimachus’s contradiction would be in Kirichenko’s reading of these lines: regardless of how Zeus became king, through force or lot, the indisputable truth is that he became one. Casting doubt on the very means by which Zeus attained kingship problematizes the effectiveness of the analogy between Olympian and Ptolemaic monarch that underlines the hymn. Like Zeus, Ptolemy II succeeded his father. Regardless of what history says about the process, court poetry has a different tale to tell: instead of strife, Callimachus suggests unanimity that strengthens the claim and position of Ptolemy II Philadelphus. Olympian 1 is an important parallel in that it helps us to view Callimachus’s role as a hymnist from the appropriate perspective. Pindar sets up a meticulous analogy between praising Hieron’s victory and the myth of Pelops. This motivates his discourse on poetic praxis. Callimachus operates in the framework of a similar juxtaposition that concerns the Ptolemaic king. If Hieron’s victory is the validation of Pindar’s general attitude towards the divine, Ptolemy II (the putative addressee of the hymn) supports the truthfulness of Callimachus’s account manifested through his personal story. The juxtaposition of Olympic gods such as Zeus and Apollo with Ptolemy II Philadelphus both in this hymn and in the Hymn to Delos, potentially even in the Hymn to Apollo, suggests a repetitive or cyclical model of history which tallies with the ideological foundations of Pindar’s mythological narrative: laudandi reenact mythological archetypes,90 and this leads to such poetic corrections as the ones in Olympian 1 and the Hymn to Zeus. In addition, both poets are eager to assert their poetic autonomy in the face of Homeric influence. Such assertions point to the manner in which these poets conceptualize their proper role. Pindar, whilst he upholds Homer as one of the greatest poets, unabashedly undermines aspects of the poetic edifice for his own ends. He

 90 See again Eliade 1965.

238  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus challenges Homer’s treatment of Ajax in Nemean 7 (23–24),91 only to celebrate it in Isthmian 3/4 (55). Unlike Homer, Pindar sees himself as reporting the truth. His odes are the mirror of life. This role is in line with epinician agenda: truth comes to the surface through competition and victory; accordingly, it is the role of the epinician poet to take down and disseminate truths especially if he wants the kleos of both the victor and himself to be long-lived. As Pindar points out in Olympian 10 (53–55), and other odes, time is the greatest witness, and only truth can survive the passage of time. This proclamation is, however, undermined by the fact that truth is not absolute but reflects the occasion and needs of each respective laudandus. Pindaric truth becomes the dominant version thanks to the prestige of the poet. It is because of Pindar’s status that generations to come will recognize the version of Pelops’s myth in Olympian 1 as the canonical one. Callimachus’s hostility towards the Homeric account reflects a similar agonistic attitude. Callimachus demonstrates a comparable concern for truthfulness that derives not only from his scholarly activities but also from the fact that he intends to praise Ptolemy. Setting the record straight with regard to Zeus reflects on Callimachus’s position both as a scholar and a poet. Ultimately, both Pindar and Callimachus react to the famous pronouncements of the Muses in the proem of the Hesiodic Theogony (27–28). The Hesiodic patina of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus lends strength to the connection between these texts. I would also add that Callimachus reacts to Hesiod through a Pindaric lens. The Hesiodic Muses proclaim that they can tell lies that look like truths.92 Pindar elaborates on Hesiod by fleshing out the implications of this statement. In so doing, he offers the rhetorical framework for Callimachus. Callimachus’s role in relation to Zeus/Ptolemy II is analogous and similar to that of Pindar towards Pelops/Hieron or even Sosigenes/Ajax in Nemean 7. This analogy suggests that Callimachus views himself as a praise poet and that he is beholden to the principles of Pindaric discourse in discharging his χρέος (“duty”) towards his patron. At the same time, the importance of Olympian 1 in this passage indicates once again the significance of Pindar’s Sicilian odes for Hellenistic praise poetry. This importance is also implied by the analogy between Zeus and Ptolemy II that Callimachus patterns on that between Hieron and Zeus in Pythian 1.

 91 The language used in Nemean 7 to describe Homer’s treatment of Odysseus bears similarities to the discourse used in Olympian 1. The imputation of blindness to the Greeks who refused Achilles’s armor to Ajax (Nem. 7.23–24) places Homer, and his audiences, in a similar position, recalling the epic bard’s quintessential trait. 92 See the discussion in Walsh 1984: 22–36.

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Cosmic Battles and Political Praise As was mentioned in the previous section, Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus omits such major mythological episodes from Zeus’s biography as the defeat of the Titans, the Giants, and Typhon, despite the fact that these struggles comprise mythological structures congruent with royal ideology: the king triumphant over agents of chaos restores order and protects the cosmos. Instead, Callimachus’s interest falls on Zeus’s role as a peaceful ruler and role model for earthly rulers, providing happiness and security to mortal communities. Nonetheless, a perfunctory reference to the victorious or military aspect of Zeus can be discerned at line three of Callimachus’s hymn: Πηλαγόνων ἐλατῆρα, δισκάσπολον Οὐρανίδῃσι. The line is fraught with textual difficulties that obfuscate the mythological allusion.93 There is uncertainty regarding the spelling of the first word. Whereas the manuscripts preserve πηλογόνων dictionaries suggest πηλαγόνων instead.94 Strabo (7a.1.38) adds to the confusion by reporting the form as πελαγόνες.95 Variants with omicron instead of alpha seem to have arisen in light of the etymology of the epithet: “made of clay” (πηλός).96 The referent is, however, unclear. While Strabo identifies the Pēlagones with the Titans, other sources associate them with the Giants, who were born of Gaia, and could perhaps be described in such terms.97 The localization of the Pelagones and Pelagonia in Macedon has incited further speculation regarding the true meaning of the epithet.98 For instance, it has been assumed that Callimachus refers in this line to the defeat of the Macedonian army by the king of Egypt and that in so doing he identifies these enemies of Egypt with Zeus’s foes, either the Titans or the Giants. Apollo’s description of

 93 Cahen 1930: 12–13; McLennan 1977 ad loc.; D’Alessio 2007: vol. 1, 64–65n2; Stephens 2015a ad loc. 94 Hesychius π 2175 (Πηλαγόνες· γέροντες, παλαιοί, γηγενεῖς); Suda 1504; EM s.v. 95 Strabo identifies the Pelagones with the inhabitants of Paionia (7a.1.39 οἱ γὰρ Παίονες Πελαγόνες ἐκαλοῦντο). The derivation of the ethnicon from the eponymous hero Pēlagōn implies that the interchangability of eta and epsilon in the spelling was tolerable: Herodianus (de prosodia catholica vol. 3,1 p. 24), for instance, refers to the country as Pēlagonia instead of Pelagonia (Πηλαγών ὁ οἰκήτωρ τῆς Πηλαγονίας). 96 So, the ancient scholia to Callimachus’s hymn: τῶν γιγάντων· παρὰ τὸ ἐκ πηλοῦ γενέσθαι, τουτέστι τῆς γῆς. 97 Titans: Strabo 7a.1.40 καὶ οἱ Τιτᾶνες ἐκλήθησαν Πηλαγόνες. Giants: Scholiast ad loc.; Suda 1504; EM p. 669 line 51. Hesychius’s explanation as either “old” or “earthborn” seems to acknowledge both interpretations. 98 Strabo 7a.1.38–39; Herodianus de prosodia catholica vol. 3,2 p. 568; Stephanus of Byzantium s.v. Πηλαγονία.

240  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus the Gauls as late-born Titans in the Hymn to Delos would set a close parallel. However, since no such victory can be credited to Ptolemy II Philadelphus, it is unclear what historical circumstances Callimachus would have in mind.99 One may therefore assume with more confidence that this reference reflects an aspect of Zeus’s mythology without any particular contemporaneous allusion. A second interpretation has been put forward by Köhnken (1984) who construes Πηλαγόνων as a kenning for mortals (“those born of clay”).100 In this reading Zeus would be described as the leader of mortals. The solution to this problem depends on the meaning of ἐλατῆρα. Does it mean pursuer or leader? I will return to this question below after I examine the mythological reference in the rest of the line. The second half of the line presents Zeus delivering justice to the sons of Ouranos. Οὐρανίδῃσι has been interpreted as either a reference to the Titans (cf. Hesiod Theog. 486, 502) as the sons of Ouranos, or, more generally, and perhaps more plausibly, to the gods, as descendants of Ouranos.101 In the first case, Zeus passes judgment on the defeated older gods; in the second, Zeus is the arbiter among all gods, and so supreme ruler of the cosmos. Depending on how one construes the first half of this line, Callimachus calls attention to Zeus’s double defeat of the Giants (Πηλαγόνες) and the Titans (Οὐρανίδαι), or he describes Zeus as the leader of both mortals (Πηλαγόνες) and immortals (Οὐρανίδαι). In both cases, line three elaborates upon the predicate “eternal ruler” (αἰὲν ἄνακτα) Callimachus attributes to Zeus at line two. On the whole, it seems more likely that, as in Theocritus’s Encomium of Ptolemy Philadelphus (22), Callimachus refers to all the gods as Οὐρανίδαι. The description of Zeus’s attributes is indebted to Pindaric poetry. Οὐρανίδαι is the appellation of the Olympian gods at Pythian 4.194: Jason prays to both Zeus and the descendants of Ouranos. The context leaves no doubt that Pindar changes the epic appellation Οὐρανιῶνες and uses Οὐρανίδης in a wider sense than Hesiod, for whom it refers solely to the Titans.102 This does not exclude the possibility that Callimachus alters the meaning again, but another change seems unlikely. After all, it makes more sense for Callimachus to present Zeus as ruler of the gods after his defeat of the Giants or Titans, a sequence also corroborated  99 McLennan 1977 ad loc. thinks of Ptolemy I Soter’s battles against Demetrius Poliorketes. 100 Ar. Av. 685 refers to men as “creatures made of clay.” The tradition seems to go back as far as Aesop (Sententiae 27 Perry). 101 Pietsch 1999: 181–182. Cf. Pind. Pyth. 4.194; fr. 70b.7 Sn.-M.; Eur. El. 483; Phoe. 823; Pindar allows for the Hesiodic meaning at Pyth. 3.4 (Cheiron), in a passage that could recall Hesiod. Theocritus (17.22) uses Οὐρανίδης to describe the divine company that Heracles, Alexander, and Ptolemy I enjoy on Olympus. Cf. also Cahen 1930: 13; McLennah 1977 ad loc. 102 Giannini 1995 ad loc.

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by the Hesiodic accounts. This reading of Callimachus’s line presupposes a negative meaning for ἐλατήρ, which Callimachus also borrows from Pindar.103 From Homer to Alcaeus to Aeschylus, ἐλατήρ has only one meaning: it describes the driver of horses.104 As a rule the noun is complemented by a modifying genitive: ἵππων “of horses” (in Homer and Aeschylus) or πώλων “of foals” (in Alcaeus) to describe the “chariot driver”; βοῶν “of oxen” is used instead in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes to describe a cowherd.105 Pindar (Olympian 4.1) uses the noun figuratively to describe Zeus, and he is the only extant earlier author to refer it to a god with this word.106 The application of the noun to Zeus and the context in which this happens offers further arguments in support of Pindaric influence on Callimachus.107 Olympian 4 celebrates the Olympic victory of Psaumis, a native of Camarina in Sicily. The provenance of the laudandus allows Pindar to associate the ode with Zeus’s defeat of Typhon, who was supposedly buried under Etna (cf. also Pythian 1). The fact that the Olympic Games are dedicated to Zeus facilitate this daring inclusion although this episode has nothing to do with the myths about the founding of the games. Nonetheless, Pindar sets up a mirroring relationship between the two victors and blurs the boundaries between the celebration of Psaumis’s and Zeus’s victories: Ἐλατὴρ ὑπέρτατε βροντᾶς ἀκαμαντόποδος Ζεῦ· τεαὶ γὰρ Ὧραι ὑπὸ ποικιλοφόρμιγγος ἀοιδᾶς ἑλισσόμεναί μ’ ἔπεμψαν ὑψηλοτάτων μάρτυρ’ ἀέθλων· ξείνων δ’ εὖ πρασσόντων ἔσαναν αὐτίκ’ ἀγγελίαν ποτὶ γλυκεῖαν ἐσλοί· ἀλλὰ Κρόνου παῖ, ὃς Αἴτναν ἔχεις ἶπον ἀνεμόεσσαν ἑκατογκεφάλα Τυφῶνος ὀβρίμου, Οὐλυμπιονίκαν δέξαι Χαρίτων θ’ ἕκατι τόνδε κῶμον

(1)

(5)

(7)

 103 Cusset 2011: 466 proposes the meaning “he who drives out, expels” quoting the adjective ἐλατήριος (Aesch. Choe. 968) as support. 104 Il. 4.145; 11.702; 23.369; Alcaeus fr. 42.14 Liberman; Aeschylus Pers. 32. 105 Hymn. Hom. Hermes 14, 265, 377. On the basis of this use, McLennan 1977: 28 posits the meaning “driver away of.” The meaning, however, is ambiguous see N.J. Richardson 2010: 155 and Vergados 2013: 233–234 ad loc. 106 Lomiento 2013 ad loc. 107 Cahen 1930: 13.

242  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus Charioteer of the thunder with the untiring feet, supreme Zeus; your Seasons, dancing to the accompaniment of the lyre’s various tones, sent me to bear witness to the most lofty games. When guest friends are successful, noble men immediately show their joy over the sweet news. But son of Cronus, you who hold windswept Etna as a weight upon mighty Typhon with the one-hundred heads, receive this celebration of an Olympic victory for the sake of the Graces.

According to linguistic usage, as we have already seen, ἐλατήρ is followed by a genitive that specifies the kind of animal the human subject is described as leading. In Olympian 4, Zeus is the driver of βροντά (“thunder”) metaphorically envisioned here as a horse; where the coinage ἀκαμαντόπους (“with untiring feet”)— unique to Pindar—is used elsewhere by the poet, it speaks of the victor’s horses or his chariot (Ol. 3.4; 5.3).108 Thunder is supposed then to be yoked to the chariot led by Zeus—note also that βροντά is exclusively associated with Zeus in Pindaric poetry. This interpretation is confirmed by an unplaced Pindaric fragment (fr. 144 Sn.-M.), in which the poet addresses Zeus as “son of Rhea, driver of thunder” (ἐλασίβροντα παῖ Ῥέας).109 The image of Zeus driving a chariot is certainly not new and alludes to Zeus’s chariot in the Iliad.110 Pindar is the first to represent thunder in this role and to employ it in an epinician context. “Supreme driver of the thunder with untiring feet” could be a description of a successful athlete, with “thunder” being the name of the victorious steed. However, this image is very quickly transformed into a military one since lines 6–7 suggest that Pindar describes here a detail from Zeus’s defeat of Typhon.111 The parallel with Psaumis’s

 108 Cook (1925: vol. 2.1, 830–831) suggests that thunder is the sound that Zeus’s chariot makes. This is quite plausible, but Pindar’s Greek can leave no doubt, as the ancient scholiast also confirms, that βροντά is seen here either as a horse or a chariot. 109 Hesychius ε 1872 (ἐλασίβροντα· ἐλαυνόμενα ὡς αἱ βρονταί· ἐπεὶ δοκεῖ ὄχημα τοῦ Διὸς ἡ βροντὴ εἶναι); cf. Photius 556; Suda 745; EM p. 325, 45. 110 Il. 8.41–46; 438–441. See also Cook 1925: vol. 2.1, 803n7 for further references in later literature. 111 The Hesiodic Theogony preserves a description of Zeus’s battle with Typhon (853–868). Zeus’s weapons include thunder, lightning, and thunderbolt (855), but there is no mention of Zeus’s chariot. Fr. 146 Sn.-M., if it belongs with fr. 144 Sn.-M., could support the interpretation that Zeus was driving a chariot.

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victory112 and the genre of the ode suggest that Zeus’s defeat of Typhon is described as an athletic contest in which Zeus is victorious over his opponent.113 The connection with Callimachus is clear but the meaning debated. If we follow Pindaric use, the genitive Πηλαγόνων serves a syntactical function similar to the genitive βροντᾶς in the Pindaric intertext. Consequently, Callimachus imagines Zeus driving a chariot to which he has tied the clay-born Giants or Titans. The belittling treatment of Zeus’s foes would parallel the detail in the same Pindaric song of Typhon being captured as a mouse under the trap that is Etna.114 In light of these considerations, and especially of the Pindaric parallel, the Homeric and Pindaric uses of ἐλατήρ governing an objective genitive make it more probable than not that Callimachus refers here to the defeat of Gaia’s progeny rather than to Zeus as leader of mortals as Köhnken suggested. Although the Homeric Hymn to Hermes might imply that Zeus would be herder (driver) of men, the Pindaric coloring of the context is strongly in favor of the alternative. In addition to the proem of Olympian 4 already discussed, Callimachus also refers to one of Pindar’s prosodia (fr. 89a Sn.-M.).115 The connection is established not only through the employment of the cognate term (ἐλάτειρα) but also through the use of the same opening gambit. Unfortunately, almost nothing survives of the poem, so our appreciation of this intertext is limited. The generic identity of the lost poem as well as the first two lines of the lost song are provided by the scholiast to Aristophanes’s Knights 1264: “τί κάλλιον ἀρχομένοισι”: τοῦτο ἀρχὴ προσοδίου Πινδάρου. ἔχει δὲ οὕτως “τί κάλλιον ἀρχομένοισιν ἢ καταπαυομένοισιν, ἢ βαθύζωνόν τε Λατὼ καὶ θοᾶν ἵππων ἐλάτειραν ἀεῖσαι.” “What is better when one starts”: this is the opening line of a processional song by Pindar It goes like this: “What is better when one starts or stops singing than to praise deep-girded Leto and the charioteer of quick horses.”

 112 The parallel between Zeus and Psaumis is not complete since Psaumis won in a chariot-race with mules, not horses. For the possibility that Psaumis had also won a chariot-race with horses, see Lomiento 2013: 99–100. 113 Pindar uses the same theme in Pythian 1. For Zeus as a victorious athlete, see also Aeschylus Ag. 165–175 with Fraenkel 1950 notes ad loc. 114 Ol. 4.5–7 with the discussion in Kampakoglou 2013a: 123–125. Callimachus could echo this image in his Victoria Berenices. 115 Cahen 1930: 11; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 118; Hardie 2016: 131.

244  Pindaric Theogonies and the Poetics of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus Aristophanes’s rendition of the Pindaric lines provides a link between Callimachus and this Pindaric fragment. Aristophanes varies the Pindaric original by turning the feminine ἐλάτειρα into the masculine ἐλατῆρας (1265–1266, τί κάλλιον ἀρχομένοισιν ἢ καταπαυομένοισιν | ἢ θοᾶν ἵππων ἐλατῆρας ἀείδειν). Iotacism and the monophthongization of the diphthong ei in Hellenistic times facilitates the connection between Callimachus and the Pindaric text, with Callimachus’s ἐλατῆρα producing the same sequence of sounds as Pindar’s ἐλάτειρα.116 In addition to this, the rhetorical articulation of the opening of the two texts is almost identical. Callimachus does not preserve the hymnic detail that it is best to sing of Leto and of Artemis both at the beginning and the end as Theocritus does at the opening of his Encomium of Ptolemy Philadelphus. That being said, the rhetorical question including the interrogative pronoun and the infinitive of the verb “to sing” provides the necessary lexical underpinning. Callimachus’s Πηλαγόνων ἐλατῆρα telescopes both Pindaric uses. Although the relevance of Olympian 4 is clear, it is open to debate what effect Callimachus wants to achieve by alluding to Pindar’s prosodion. First of all, there is a discrepancy in performative modes. Callimachus’s hymn is supposed to be enunciated at a symposium (descriptive context). The prosodion, on the other hand, is a processional song.117 Indeed the allusion to Pindar’s fr. 89a Sn.-M. could imply an entirely different contextual frame with a bearing on the connection of Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus with his Hymn to Apollo. To be more specific, prosodia were typically sung by a chorus during a procession that led to or from an altar or a temple.118 Applying this description to Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus, one could argue that the libations mentioned at line one do not take place in a symposium but will happen at an altar or temple of Zeus that is intentionally left unspecified.119 Nonetheless, Callimachus could interiorize the processional modality of his intertext and reproduce it through the geographical articulation of his mythological references. The mythological itinerary from Arcadia, to Crete, and then to Alexandria that Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus offers could be said to resemble a procession leading to the capital of the Ptolemaic empire. In this manner, Alexandria in its entirety falls under Zeus’s protection as his shrine.  116 Similarly, as Lord 1990: 59 explains, Callimachus’s paretymological implications at Hymn 2.103 (ἱὴ ἱὴ παιῆον, ἵει βέλος, εὐθύ σε μήτηρ) suggest that ē, i, and ei produced a similar sound at the time so that ἱή can be connected with both ἵει (“shoot”) and ἵον (“arrow”). 117 Testimonies collected in Färber 1936: II, 29–30. 118 Mathiesen 1999: 81–83; Rutherford s.v. “prosodion” in the Brill’s New Pauly. 119 As is typical in Callimachus’s hymns, the ritual never actually takes place. Instead the poem itself should be viewed as the libation due to Zeus.

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Viewing Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus in light of prosodia could also account for the use of the first plural ἀείσομεν (4), which thus represents the members of the chorus. Thomas Mathiesen (1999: 81–83) underlines the close association of prosodia with hymns and paeans, their small size and rudimentary narrative. Callimachus’s first hymn fits this description nicely. The size of the poem is disproportionate to the status of the god praised. The narrative section lags far behind those of the other hymns in the collection. Instead, as is typical in prosodia, Callimachus focuses on supplication. Finally, in the context of Callimachus’s collection of hymns, the first hymn “leads” to the Hymn to Apollo, which experiments with aspects of Apollo’s paean (cf. Lightfoot 2018). The second Delphic paean (attributed to Limenius: pp. 149–159 Powel) offers a similar arrangement attaching the prosodion to the paean in honor of Apollo. Fr. 89a Sn.-M. addresses Leto and Artemis. On the basis of Pausanias’s testimony (2.30.3), older commentators thought that this was performed during a procession to the temple of Aphaia in Aegina.120 Pollux (Onomasticon 1.38) associates prosodia particularly with the cult of Artemis and Apollo. This testimony suggests that Pindar probably did mention Apollo as well.121 At any rate, the allusion to fr. 89a Sn.-M. activates on a textual level the link between Callimachus’s first hymn and Apollo and Artemis, and thus eases the transition to the second poem in the collection. Consideration of the Pindaric intertext at the very opening of Callimachus’s book of hymns reflects Callimachus’s repositioning of the traditional Olympian family. In this reading, the intertextual connection secures the place of Leto, Artemis, and Apollo (if he was mentioned in Pindar’s fragment) at the side of Zeus at the most prominent place in the collection of hymns: in the first lines of the first hymn. Echoing Pindar, Callimachus asks about the most suitable subject for his poem. The erudite reader, recalling Pindar, is tempted to answer Leto, Artemis and Apollo. Callimachus cheats the expectations that the allusion gives rise to: he selects Zeus, but positions the gods of the Pindaric poem in the three hymns that follow.122

 120 Christ 1896: 397 on fr. 89; Fennell 1899: 234 on fr. 66. The poem mentioned by Pausanias is distinguished from these fragments in the edition of Snell and Maehler (fr. 89b). 121 So Hardie 2016: 132 on the basis of the echoes of Theognis 1–2. 122 Hardie 2016: 133–134 makes a similar argument using a series of tentative linguistic echoes.

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Conclusion Callimachus’s development of his description of Zeus as ἄναξ of the world is heavily indebted to Pindar: first ἐλατήρ recalls the use of the same substantive for Zeus in Olympian 4 and through that confirms the meaning it bears in Callimachus’s line; second, Οὐρανίδῃσι is a Pindaric version of an epic patronymic that refers specifically to the gods. These two elements complement the Pindaricizing incipit modeled after the Prosodion to Artemis and the general relevance of Pindar’s first hymn for the understanding of the role Callimachus’s hymn has in his collection of hymns. On the analogy with the Prosodion to Artemis, Callimachus wishes to be taken as a singer, an aoidos. ἀείδειν is typical of epic diction. The allusion to Pindar, however, is suggestive of the notion that, at the opening of his first Hymn, Callimachus lays claim to the image of the lyric poet, implying that he is an imitator of Pindar. From the preceding discussion, it becomes clear that the opening of the Hymn to Zeus communicates a strong Pindaric coloring. This choice can perhaps be best explained if we accept that for Callimachus and his court audience Pindar represents a fitting praise poet. This interpretation is strongly supported by the particulars of the circumstances that Callimachus adumbrates in the Hymn to Zeus. The rhetorical efficacy of the first hymn consists in the analogy between Ptolemy and Zeus. The circumstances of Ptolemy’s succession to the throne recall to the poet’s mind those surrounding the rise of Zeus to power. In the Hymns to Apollo and Delos Callimachus offers a variant analogy between a deity and the Ptolemaic king: in these poems, however, it is with Apollo. Theocritus’s Encomium of Ptolemy Philadelphus allows for both options. Both Callimachus and Theocritus react to the same cultural and political ambience. The idea, however, of paralleling earthly rulers to Zeus has a characteristically Pindaric touch. Callimachus draws on Hesiod’s poetry to describe the hierarchy of Ptolemaic society as mirroring that of the divine world. Kings derive from Zeus, while poets from the Muses (Theog. 94–96). Callimachus’s variation of the Hesiodic scheme points to an awareness of, and engagement with, Pindar’s works. As we have seen, in Olympian 4 Pindar suggests an analogy between Zeus as victor over Typhon and Psaumis. The juxtaposition is remarkable and is occasioned by the Sicilian provenance of the victor. Pythian 1 is older by at least one decade and offers a more complete version of this device. Pindar and his chorus reflect the divine choreia of Apollo and the Muses. The mortal choreia is identified with the divine one, suggesting the analogy between Hieron and Zeus: Zeus defeats Typhon, Hieron, the Phoenicians and the Etruscans. Both foes are associated with noise, opposing the harmony of Apollo’s lyre. Apollo appears as an apologist for Zeus’s rule in Pindar’s first Hymn as well. Both intertexts imply that

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Callimachus imitates Pindar in assuming a similar role in the performative world of the Hymn to Zeus. Callimachus returns to this analogy again, but even more clearly than in this hymn, in the Hymn to Delos. The earlier date of the Hymn to Zeus123 prevents Callimachus from embracing more fully the Pindaric image since Ptolemy had achieved no actual military victory yet. Accordingly, in the early reworking of the image he finds in Pythian 1 and Pindar’s first Hymn, Callimachus emphasizes not military prowess, but rather the creation of a thriving realm that embodies the rule of Zeus; Callimachus, meanwhile, imitates Apollo by performing in a banquet hosted by Philadelphus or leading a procession organized by the king. One suspects that the allusion to the practice of offering libations to Zeus Soter at the opening of the hymn, is suggestive of honoring Ptolemy I as Soter. An interesting pattern of analogies is thus created with Zeus acting as the model for both Ptolemy I Soter and Ptolemy II Philadelphus. By imitating Zeus, as the allusions to Pindaric poetry suggest, Ptolemy II Philadelphus conducts himself not only as Zeus but also as his father, who also imitates Zeus qua king and through the appellation “Savior” (σωτήρ). The similarity between father and son is a staple theme of Ptolemaic propaganda, and Callimachus could assume knowledge of it in order to offer a more intricate version of it in this manner. Although Pindar lays the emphasis on the role of music as representative of political and cosmic harmony, Callimachus’s poetry deals with creation, as a process rather than as a completed act. One can see then why Pythian 1 has such an appeal to Callimachus and Ptolemy. Pythian 1 celebrates the foundation of a city, Aetna. But Alexandria too is a new city. Callimachus paints a version of Alexandria as a model city that comes close to the Hesiodic ideal. The Pindaric analogy between divine addressee and human laudandus stems from Hesiod. The importance of ktistic themes the Hymn to Zeus introduces is elaborated further in the following Hymn to Apollo, in which Pindaric elements also appear strongly.

 123 For the dating of Callimachus’s hymns, see Stephens 2015a: 16–22.

Chapter 7 Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo Introduction In addition to being an autonomous poem that can be appreciated on its own merits, Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus has a second function as the proem to the collection of hymns. Describing the rule of Zeus, Callimachus delineates the remits of powers and the honors meted out to the other gods (75–79). Thus he invests the first hymn in the collection with a proemial function that approximates the cosmogonic and theogonic discourse of Hesiod’s Theogony. The issue of creation and beginnings appears in subsequent hymns but never with the wideranging implications it has in the Hymn to Zeus.1 Consequently, the hymns that follow the Hymn to Zeus are seen against the background set by the first poem in the collection. In the Hymn to Zeus, Callimachus stresses the hierarchy of gods and matches it with the superiority of kings over bards. The second hymn in the collection focuses on Apollo who, as the appropriate divine model for both, brings kings and poets together. Several elements, themes, and motifs in the first Hymn are developed or repeated in the following poems, strengthening the impression that several modern readers of Callimachus’s hymns share that these poems were composed with an eye to forming a closely-knit collection. One such theme that permeates the hymns is the manifestation or epiphany of a god.2 This theme can adopt various forms. For instance, one way in which a god can manifest themselves is through their birth which is thus seen as their first epiphany (cf. Hymn to Zeus, Hymn to Delos). The narrative frame of the second hymn is different from that of the first one. The epiphany of Apollo is anticipated in the context of, if not actually provoked by, the ritual celebration described.3 In this regard, Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo presents strong similarities to the other two so-called mimetic hymns in

 1 The founding of Cyrene is intertwined with the beginnings of Apollo’s cult in the Hymn to Apollo. The Hymn to Delos presents the birth of Apollo against a fluid cosmogonic background that suggests an early stage in the creation of the universe. 2 Petrovic 2007: 142–144. 3 Hunter and Fuhrer 2002: 152. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-008

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the collection, the Hymn on the Bath of Athena and the Hymn to Demeter.4 All three hymns are supposed to be uttered during a ritual procession or choral performance in honor of the god who is about to manifest themselves. The expectation triggers ritual orders about who should be present at this sacred moment.5 The enemies of Apollo (Hymn 2.2, 10) and the men of Argos (Hymn 5.51–52) should stay away. In the sixth Hymn, the sacred basket of Demeter ought not to be viewed from the roof but from the same level, and the women should not spit while fasting (3–6). Whilst in the last two hymns the god is present through an artifact sacred to her (i.e. Athena’s statue and Demeter’s basket), there is no such sacred object paraded in the Hymn to Apollo. In this poem, the divine presence is felt through the preternatural movements of the laurel (1) and the temple (2, μέλαθρον). Furthermore, Apollo’s presence causes seismic activity: Phoebus is believed to kick the doors of the temple (4). Ocular signs of epiphany (4) are complemented by olfactory ones, the sweet aroma wafted from the Delian phoenix (4–5), and acoustic ones, the sudden singing of the swans (5). The appearance of the god is then greeted by a chorus of young men. The ensuing duality of a persona loquens and chorus is characteristic of all three mimetic hymns: a chorus of youths in the second Hymn, a chorus of Argive maidens in the fifth Hymn, and one of initiates in the sixth Hymn. The importance of choral performance associates these hymns with the tradition of choral lyric, and this connection is felt nowhere more strongly in Callimachus’s poetry than in the Hymn to Apollo.6 Assuming that the poet hides behind the person speaking, he addresses the chorus of youths that accompanies the hymn. It is unclear whether the hymn was meant for an actual performance, however we understand the term (e.g. recital or choral performance). The epic meter would probably point towards recitation, but the Homeric Hymn to Apollo embeds a bardic performer interacting with a performing chorus.7 Even if this were nothing more than textual fantasy, it

 4 For the term see Depew 1993; Petrovic 2007: 124–126; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012: 115– 116. For the similarities and differences among Hymns 2, 5, and 6, see Cahen 1930: 45; Erbse 1975: 276–287; Lightfoot 2018: §§ 29–34. 5 For the metapoetic significance of exclusion, particularly in this hymn, see Bassi 1989. Petrovic 2012 sees in this regard the influence of contemporaneous purity regulations and oracular responses on Callimachus’s Hymn 2. 6 Bing 1993: 182. 7 Acosta-Hughes and Cusset 2012: 132. For the details of the performance in the Homeric hymn, see Peponi 2004; 2009.

250  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo is telling that Callimachus emphasizes the choral aspects of his textualized performance.8 In order to achieve this aim, Callimachus alludes to a series of Pindaric odes, particularly the Cyrenean odes (Pythian 4, 5, and 9) on which he draws not only for information about the founding of Cyrene, but also about the praise of the god and the king (Pythian 5) as well as the importance of gazing and the juxtaposition of temporal levels (Pythian 9).9 Finally, Pythian 1 offers important parallels about the effect of divine music and the importance of Doric tradition.10 The allusions to these Pindaric odes is not a plain exhibition of erudition. The Pindaric background of Callimachus’s second Hymn is meant to strengthen the implications of choral performance because it is by means of the textualized choral performance that the anticipated epiphany of the god happens. Following structures he found in Pythian 9, and to a lesser degree in Pythian 5, Callimachus juxtaposes choral performances of distinct temporal levels: the chorus of youths recalls that of the Theran founders of Cyrene, which in turn is juxtaposed with the chorus celebrating Apollo’s victory over the Delphic dragon. The system of analogies does not concern solely the performing choruses but also their audiences. The choral performance that theoretically encompasses Callimachus’s hymn is meant to recreate the performance of the founding fathers for Apollo and his bride Cyrene. Accordingly Callimachus’s audience or readers share the platform with Apollo and Cyrene, joining the divine patrons of their country. In this sense, Callimachus translates into textual terms what Leslie Kurke (2012) has called the “technology of presencing:” Apollo’s epiphany happens through the textualized choreia; appreciating this spectacle the reader is drawn into the textual universe of Callimachus’s Carneia in the manner of an audience watching an actual choral performance.11 Viewing Callimachus’s hymn from this angle, one can appreciate better the importance of the Pindaric model. Pindar is a point of reference for the religious undertones of the metapoetic utterances, the performance of the hymn, and the speaking person. If the chorus of the Cyrenean youths greets the epiphanic arrival  8 For the importance of the chorus in this hymn, see Calame 1993; Cheshire 2005. 9 The importance of Pythian 9 for the treatment of time in Callimachus’s second hymn is also recognized by Lord 1990: 66–67. 10 For the Pindaric coloring of the second Hymn, see Kofler 1996: 233. Lord 1990: 87–91 discusses connections with Pythian 1. 11 Barring the obvious difference in meter, the mechanics involved in Callimachus’s textualization of performance is not that different from those of archaic lyric discourse. Lyric deixis, in particular, operates in a similar fashion for any audience watching an ode reperformed in a context different from that it was originally destined for; see Rutherford 2001: 128–129; Phillips 2016: passim.

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of Apollo, as the following discussion suggests, the famous epilogue of the hymn coincides exactly with the epiphanic moment. The conclusion of the poem marks the arrival of the god, who also protects the poet against his detractors. The polemics or self-promotion that this part of the poem conveys reflect aspects of Pindaric discourse but also looks back to the opening of the hymn in an impeccable ring composition.12 The Aetia prologue offers a pertinent parallel for Apollo appearing at a crucial moment to protect the poet. In both cases, in true Pindaric fashion, Callimachus combines metapoetic utterances with piety. Finally, the parallels with Pythian 5 suggest that Callimachus participates in the supposed choral performance leading the chorus of youths. Assuming this role, Callimachus varies the ties of hospitality that Pindar consistently establishes between himself and his laudandus, Arcesilaus of Cyrene. From performance, to myth and colonial history, from self-representation to the praise of the Ptolemies, Callimachus suggests several points of contact with Pindaric poetry, communicating once again that Pindar is the best example for praise discourse Hellenistic poets have at their disposal.

Awaiting the Arrival of the God: Music and its Cosmic Effects The Hymn opens with a series of signs that bespeak the imminent arrival of Apollo. These provide the cue to prepare for the performance in honor of the god.13 Indications provided later in the poem suggest that the hymn is supposed to be performed at the Cyrenean festival of Carneia.14 At line eight, the persona loquens addresses the chorus of youths in the second person plural, advising them to prepare for their performance (8, οἱ δὲ νέοι μολπήν τε καὶ ἐς χορὸν ἐντύνασθε, “you, youths, prepare for singing and dancing”). Similar instructions appear throughout the poem. In lines 12–13 the imperatival infinitive refers to the youths (παῖδας) who should celebrate the arrival of Phoebus with the lyre and dances. At line 16, the poet mentions that he can hear the youths playing the lyre.

 12 Bassi 1989: 222. For the Pindaric reminiscenes in the epilogue, see Köhnken 1981; Lord 1990: 100–117; Fuhrer 1992: 258–261. 13 Cheshire 2008: 355–359 shows that references to Apollo’s beautiful foot and singing swans allude to Apollo’s paeanic choruses and so prepare for the chorus of young men. 14 The supposed location of the festival is never explicitly revealed (cf. Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 2, 77; Erbse 1975: 292n30). However, the strong Cyrenean coloring and the connection with Pindar’s Pythian 5 suggest that Callimachus probably has the Cyrenean Carneia in mind. Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 2, 79; Cahen 1930: 45–46; Fraser 1972: vol. 1, 653; Calame 1993; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 123.

252  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo In addition to these, there are several second-person-plural imperatives that address more generally those present. In the opening section the κατοχῆες (“bolts”) are asked to open the gates of the temple. The ritual imperatives “be silent” (17) and “shout hiē hiē” (25) are uttered without specifying the addressee. The admonition to be silent must be directed to the god’s devotees present at the festivities.15 On the other hand, the paeanic interjection can be addressed either to the members of the chorus or generally to the chorus members and the audience of the performance. It is also unclear what the role of the poet is supposed to be in these proceedings.16 He seems to be speaking while the chorus is preparing for the performance, but we never hear the actual performance of the youths.17 Line eight describes a typical choreia that comprises dancing (χορόν) and singing (μολπήν). At line 16 the injunction “to be silent” is coupled with Apollo’s song, which must refer to the paean. The two mythological examples that follow and uphold this ritual order suggest in all probability that the embedded performance is meant to be a paean.18 However, the song of the youths is not formally demarcated at any point. In fact, there is no clear indication that the poet leaves the stage for the youths to speak. Consequently, if we assume that the youths do start to dance and sing at some point after the imperative of line eight, the voice of the poet and that of the chorus is combined. D’Alessio (2007: vol. 1, 81n5) argues that Callimachus functions as the ἐξάρχων or χορηγός (“chorus-leader”) of the dancers who perform under his guidance. Potentially the embedded paean starts at line 32.19 However this is not certain. Alternatively, one can suppose that the χορηγός and the members of the chorus share first person utterances from the very first line of the

 15 Erbse 1975: 288–289. On εὐφημία as a paeanic marker, see Lightfoot 2018: § 6. 16 Callimachus has generally been seen as the master of ceremonies or a priest who issues directions to the chorus of youths; cf. Erbse 1975: 288; Koster 1983: 18; Bing 1993: 184; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 125; Petrovic 2012: 302. For Callimachus as the chorus-leader in all mimetic hymns, see Petrovic 2007: 135 with n. 61. Bundy 1972: 87 views Callimachus as the chorodidaskalos. Fantuzzi (2011: 437) posits the fragmentation of the authorial voice (i.e. Callimachus qua director of the ritual, eulogist, and defender of poetics) as a mechanism preparing for the epiphany of Apollo in the hymn’s epilogue. 17 Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 2, 82; Erbse 1975: 291; Bing 1993: 186–187; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 128. 18 Rutherford 2001: 130; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012: 107–108, 116; Lightfoot 2018. In this Callimachus’s hymn imitates Pindar’s Pythian 5, which also exhibits strong paeanic associations: see Krummen 2014: 164; Currie 2005: 227–228; Lightfoot 2018: §§ 15–17, 23–25. 19 Bing 1993: 187. This is also the point (specifically lines 28–30) at which Cahen (1930: 56) places the end of the chorus’s singing and the beginning of Callimachus’s monodic encomium in honor of Apollo (32–96).

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hymn.20 The directions that the voice issues to the youths would create difficulties to this reading. However, these need not be taken at face value, but as part of setting the scene. Similar statements or directions are issued by the chorus itself in archaic lyric.21 Callimachus could be imitating lyric conventions. A close parallel is offered by the proem of Isthmian 8 for the Aeginetan victor Kleandros (1–5). The ode opens with instructions that an unspecified person issues to the youths who make up the chorus performing the ode. The person speaking distinguishes himself from the members of the chorus by addressing them in the vocative as “youths” (1) and issuing directions in the third person imperative. Even so, there is no reason to assume that the speaking person dissociates himself from the κῶμος in which he quite likely also participates. At the opening of Nemean 9, the poet envisions an imaginary κῶμος, which in procession leads from Sicyon to Aetna. The first person plural (1) leaves no doubt as to the inclusive nature of such statements. In both cases, the poet refers to something that is actually taking place as he speaks. Pindar need not ask the members of the chorus to “raise the κῶμος” (Isthmian 8.3) since this has already started. In Olympian 1, the poet orders someone “to take the Dorian lyre off the peg” (17). Surely, music must have accompanied the dancing and singing before line 17, as soon as the song started. Callimachus takes to the extreme conventions he found in lyric poetry. While Pindar issues a command that could be seen as marking the beginning of the performance, Callimachus describes rehearsals. If Callimachus’s hymn was not

 20 Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 2, 79; Erbse 1975: 288n23; Kofler 1996: 245. Meillier 1979: 88–90 and Bing 1993: 188 consider the hymn to be the speaker’s perception of the choral song. Along similar lines, Cahen 1930: 48 attributes the whole poem to the poet himself, who acts as the ἐξάρχων of the chorus. Cahen (1930: 49–50) posits that Callimachus imitates Pindar, who often speaks through his chorus, but reverses Pindaric practice by identifying the chorus with the voice of the poet. Finally, Lightfoot 2018: § 8 suggests that a single member of the chorus sings the song while the rest of them dance. Regarding the performance of Callimachus’s hymns, see Petrovic 2007: 134–137, 177–181. 21 Calame 1993: 48; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 126, 128–129; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012: 116; Lightfoot 2018: § 10. D’Alessio (2007: vol. 1, 81n3) compares the signs of the arrival of Apollo with the description of the chorus in Pindar’s second Partheneion. This analogy is telling because Pindar’s ode also includes a detailed self-referential discourse that presents the chorus of maidens as still not ready to receive the god. If Callimachus is following Pindar, this would strengthen the proposed identification of the poetic voice with that of the chorus. The metapoetic use of water in the epilogue is another loan from this ode (cf. Poliakoff 1980; D’Alessio 2007: vol. 1, 95n36), rendering it an important intertext for Callimachus’s choral poetics. On this basis, F. Cairns (1972: 192) argues in favor of the choral nature of this hymn in addition to the fifth and sixth hymns. See also Bundy 1972: 86–88, who does not rule out the possibility.

254  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo meant for performance, but to be recited, such directions would betray their bookish conception. But one does not need to disregard the importance that these preparations had for the poem’s textualized performance (“descriptive context”).22 It is through such a discourse that Callimachus aligns his poem to archaic lyric conventions, and in so doing recreates the effect that lyric had on Hellenistic poets as read, not performed, poetry.23 Several aspects of Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo find parallels in Pindar’s Pythian 5,24 which celebrates the chariot victory of King Arcesilaus of Cyrene at the Pythian Games of 462 BCE.25 Praise of the Cyrenean king Arcesilaus, praise of Apollo in his various aspects, and praise of Battus as the founder of Cyrene are three of the major similarities between the two poems. These offer the framework within which we can also appreciate the choreia of both poems. Still, there is an obvious difference in emphasis and details because of the distinct genres of Pythian 5 and Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo. Pindar associates the celebration of Arcesilaus’s victory with the Carneia festival in honor of Apollo.26 In so doing, Pindar calls the audience’s attention to the various points of reference in the sacred geography of Cyrene’s agora. In this manner the audience mentally progresses through the colonial history of Cyrene and juxtaposes Arcesilaus with his predecessors. Callimachus opts for a similar technique, which however juxtaposes cyclical choruses instead of a linear progression through space and time. The importance of Apollo’s altar in Callimachus’s hymn makes it more than likely that the youths are supposed to dance around Apollo’s altar. In addition to this, a further similarity concerns the make up of the respective choruses. The members of the chorus are citizens of Cyrene and so subjects of  22 The distinction between “descriptive” and “performative” context was introduced by Yatromanolakis 2004: 65. Descriptive context refers to the performance setting as described by the text itself; on the other hand, the performative context refers to the actual historical circumstances of a song’s performance. The descriptive context could very well be fictional; if it matched the performative context for the original performance, it certainly did not for reperformances in different locations. See also Agócs 2012. 23 Bing 1993: 190; Calame 1993: 48; Depew 1993: 66; Kofler 1996: 245; Hunter and Fuhrer 2002: 156; Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004: 363–364. 24 For the connection, see Cahen 1930: 72–73; D’Alessio 2007: vol. 1, 88n26; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 130–133. 25 For discussions of Pythian 5, see Burton 1962: 135–149; Lefkowitz 1985: 33–63; Krummen 2014: 117–178; Currie 2005: 226–257. 26 It is generally assumed that Pythian 5 was meant for performance at the Carneia of Cyrene; Schroeder 1922: 50; Farnell 1932: 168; Giannini 1995: 160; Currie 2005: 226; Krummen 2014: 135– 137. See, however, Ferrari 2012: 170–172.

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King Arcesilaus in Pythian 5 and of Ptolemy III Euergetes in Callimachus’s hymn.27 Arcesilaus’s royal status motivates the association of his victory with the founding of Cyrene. Although there is a reference to the Egyptian king, the connection with the Battiad dynasty is motivated differently in Callimachus through the consideration of the various aspects of Apollo’s godhood. Second, in both poems the chorus is made up by young men. Callimachus addresses the chorus as Cyrenean youths. Pindar describes the performance of Pythian 5 as “this κῶμος of men” (22) and further identifies Pythian 5 as a “song of young men” at line 103. One expects that the celebration of Arcesilaus’s victory would entail his peers: in Isthmian 8 the victor is a youth, and so the chorus comprises youths from Aegina.28 Age considerations do not apply to Callimachus’s hymn since the laudandus is not a mortal king, but the god. Apollo, however, is typically associated with unmarried youths.29 In this light, the selection of youths in Callimachus’s hymn invests the experience the members of the chorus go through with connotations of a rite of passage, a prominent function of the Cyrenean Carneia.30 This interpretation is supported by the fact that Apollo is also represented as undergoing an initiatory process. Apollo first goes through the phase of homoerotic relations typical of youths in rites of passages (Admetus),31 and then transitions to adulthood, which is perceived as the phase of heterosexual relationships (Cyrene), a phase that pertains to the role of the ideal citizen.32 Callimachus artfully juxtaposes the divine couple Apollo and Cyrene, with the mixed chorus of the Theran colonizers and Libyan women.33 Their cooperation in the celebration of the first Carneia imitates and reenacts on a mortal level the theogamia of Apollo with Cyrene. Both as a mortal woman and as the patron nymph of the land, Cyrene symbolizes the land that needs to be tamed by the Greek colonizers. Apollo’s oracle, according to the myth, played a key role in the colonization of  27 On the identity of the Ptolemy referred to in this Hymn, see the discussion below pp. 271–272. 28 Cf. Giannini 1995: 537–538 on 103. Giannini notes that the youths of the chorus may form the entourage of the king as in Sparta. 29 For instance, the chorus in Bacchylides 17 (43, 93, 128) and the chorus of Argonauts in Apollonius’s epic (A. R. 1.536–541) are described as ἠΐθεοι (“unmarried youths”). See Zimmermann 1992: 83, Pavlou 2012 for Bacchylides; and Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 153 ad loc. and Hunter 1993: 85 for Apollonius. For Theseus as mythological analogue for the Cyrenaean chorus, see Cheshire 2008: 359n20, who points out the similarities between Hymn 2.12 and Hymn 4.302. 30 Nicolai 1992: 162–173. On the Carneia see Krummen 2014: 130–137. 31 Gennep 2004: 171–172. 32 Along similar lines Calame 1993: 42 detects a transition from a precivilized state to city-civilization effected through Apollo’s passing from a transient homoerotic relationship to a stable heterosexual one associated with city structures and the foundation of his temple. 33 Cheshire 2008: 367.

256  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo Cyrene. Thus the Theran colonizers perform a role analogous to that of Apollo.34 In male-centered colonial discourse, Greek colonizers tame the foreign land which is personified as the indigenous female.35 The chorus of the youths accompanying Callimachus’s hymn imitate the original chorus of their forefathers.36 The analogy implies that they too should soon make the transition to adulthood by marrying.37 In lines 9–15, Callimachus associates the celebration of the god’s epiphany with songs and dances with the marital prospects of the youths, their hoped-for longevity, and the survival of the walls of Cyrene. In all three concerns Callimachus unequivocally represents the Cyrenean performance in civic terms.38 In celebrating the god, the Cyrenean youths are installed in their role as members of the adult community. The issue of their marriage connects to the future survival of the community by the production of future citizens; their old age will allow them to make use of their experience and wisdom in the running of the community; finally, the survival of the walls implies their role in the defense of the city.39 Callimachus celebrates Apollo as builder and layer of foundations so that in at least one of the three aspects the youths imitate the god. At line seventeen the person speaking invites those present to maintain ritual silence. This silence is the ritual translation of the transcendent effect of Apollo’s song: “Listening to Apollo’s song, keep quiet; | for even the sea does so, when bards celebrate | either the lyre or the bows, the accoutrements of Lycorean Phoebus.” The silence of the audience parallels that of the sea. The performance of the first ever paean in Apollonius’s Argonautica has a similar effect on the surrounding nature.40 In discussing that passage, we noted the allusion to the “Hymn to the Lyre” in the first part of Pindar’s Pythian 1. There the peaceful effect of Apollo’s music is exemplified through the reaction of Zeus’s symbols of power  34 In light of similar considerations, Nicolai (1992: 168–172) puts forward the intriguing hypothesis that the blonde Libyans were actually abducted in the manner of Cyrene abducted by Apollo. 35 For sexual metaphors in Greek colonial discourse, see Dougherty 1993: 61–80. 36 Nicolai 1992: 157; Calame 1993: 46–48; 50. 37 Cheshire 2008: 367. 38 For the civic character of Carneia and Apollo, see Krummen 2014: 123–124. 39 Ancient evidence suggests that at Sparta the Carneia was organized by young men, called Karneatai, while the adult warriors, representing their clans, watched the performance; Nicolai 1992: 163–165; Krummen 2014: 130. The young men were symbolically received into the community possibly imitating the reception of the Antenorids by the Theran founders of Cyrene in Pythian 5: Krummen 2014: 151. 40 An analogy between Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo and Apollonius is also argued by A.D. Morrison (2007b: 130) on the basis of the ambiguous combination of a choral paean with a monodic song.

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(the eagle and the thunderbolt) and, in contrast, that of Zeus’s archenemy, Typhon. The harmonious sounds of Apollo’s lyre grate on Typhon’s ears, but the giant, captured beneath Etna, is unable to react effectively. A similar case for an allusion to Pythian 1 can be made in this part of Callimachus’s hymn, but with significant alterations.41 However, it is not Apollo, who performs in Callimachus’s Hymn, but his mortal counterparts, the poets. But even so Callimachus imitates an analogy he finds in Pythian 1. Pindar, that is, constructs a parallel between himself as laudator of Hieron and Apollo as laudator of Zeus. Lines 26–27 of the Hymn to Apollo present a similar analogy between an unnamed king (possibly Ptolemy III) and Apollo, the addressee of the hymn. Callimachus proclaims that “may whoever fights against the blessed gods fight against my king; | may whoever fights against my king fight against Apollo.” Callimachus does not refer generally to the lyre of Apollo, as Pindar does in Pythian 1, but designates specifically a genre that is appropriate to the cult of Apollo. There is little reason to doubt that the circumlocution Ἀπόλλωνος ἀοιδή, “song of Apollo” (17), refers to the paean.42 It is the performance of the paean that commands silence—and one expects this to be observed during the “performance” of Callimachus’s song as well. Callimachus specifies further the content of this poem (19): it is a celebration, a bestowal of kleos, to be precise (κλείουσιν), upon Apollo’s ἔντεα, “accoutrements.” The poem thus honors Apollo in his double capacity as poet (κίθαρις) and archer (τόξα).43 In both these roles, the poet is meant to serve as the role model for the youths participating in the celebration of the god. The silence that the paean commands extends from human communities to nature. One would expect Callimachus to mention those foes who react violently to the sound of the paean as Pindar also does. The role of Typhon, as the enemy of Apollo’s music, is taken up in the Hymn to Apollo by the two most unexpected characters: the two mothers, Thetis and Niobe. Lines 97–104 of Callimachus’s Hymn narrate Apollo’s defeat of Python, the dragon haunting Delphi. The victory is associated with the origins of the paeanic interjection hiē paian. Apollo shoots and kills the dragon from afar making use of his arrows. The manner of his victory is succinctly codified in the paeanic interjection and is repeated immediately by the choral performance of the first ever paean. According to a well-known pattern of thought in Greek poetry, every fresh

 41 Bundy 1972: 73n82; Lord 1990: 88–91. 42 F. Williams 1978: 28 on 17–24. 43 The Hymn to Artemis similarly dedicates considerable space to describing the manner in which Apollo’s sister also acquired her own ἔντεα.

258  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo performance of the paean reenacts that first performance and calls to mind afresh Apollo’s victory over Python.44 Callimachus places the paeanic refrain in a marked position at line 25 after the mention of Thetis and Niobe. This calculated placement juxtaposes Apollo’s defeat of the Pythian snake with that over these two mothers. This interpretation is further supported by the moral that Callimachus draws from the mention of Thetis and Niobe: “it behooves one not to contend with gods.” The gnomic appeal of the line recalls similar statements in archaic poetry.45 The performance of lyric poetry is the time when the community comes together and reaffirms its ties by jointly participating in the festival of the god. At this time, the poet and its chorus become the mouthpiece of societal traditions and lore. In this light, the placement of the paeanic cry at line 25 suggests that, as Apollo’s enemies, Thetis and Niobe assume, formally at least, the role of the defeated Python. From this angle, Callimachus retains the framework he found in Pythian 1 suggesting an intertextual analogy between Typhon, on the one hand, and Niobe and Thetis, on the other. In the manner of their intertextual counterpart, both Thetis and Niobe are powerless to react to the sound of the paean. Their harmlessness parallels that of Typhon and indicates the indisputable supremacy of Apollo. The fact that in this context Callimachus adds that Apollo is powerful because he sits to Zeus’s right suggests that the punishment meted out to both Thetis and Niobe does not contravene Zeus’s rule or will and is thus to be accepted as something right. Callimachus combines Pindaric and Homeric material. Iliad 24 describes the encounter between Priam, the old King of Troy, who visits Achilles in order to retrieve the body of his dead son Hector, and Achilles, the murderer of Hector. In his effort to mollify Achilles, Priam directs Achilles to consider the similarities between Achilles’s father, old Peleus, and Priam himself. The comparison strikes home with Achilles. Peleus will never receive Achilles alive. Achilles, who knows this already, is moved by the realization of the similarities between the two men. With the two grieving fathers Callimachus juxtaposes two grieving mothers. Priam lost a host of sons killed by Achilles; Peleus lost only one son, Achilles. Similarly, Thetis lost only Achilles, while Niobe twelve children in all, six sons and six daughters (Iliad 24.603–610). The mention of Niobe is also a pointed allusion to Achilles’s discourse to Priam in Iliad 24. Achilles consoles Priam and tries to convince him to stop his mourning and eat. In this context he mentions Niobe, who put a stop to her grieving in order to partake of food and drink.46 In  44 Burnett 1985: 5–14; Nagy 1990: 339–381; Kurke 2012. 45 Parallels in F. Williams 1978: 35 on 25. 46 See Brügger’s 2017: 222–225 note on 559–620.

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Callimachus Niobe stops in order to hear the paean, being reminded of her mistake in insulting Apollo’s mother, Leto.47 The mention of Thetis and Niobe reflects the punishment of Achilles and Niobe’s children at Apollo’s hands.48 The reason for Callimachus’s replacement of chthonic agents of chaos, such as Typhon with grieving mothers is occasioned by the status of the members of the chorus. Callimachus juxtaposes the devotion of the chorus honoring Apollo with their performance with that of those showing disrespect to Apollo. The morale of the myth is that those who do not imitate the example of the Cyrenean youths, by participating in choral performances in honor of Apollo, but emulate Achilles or Niobe’s children would meet with a similar end.49 One may go a step further: the focus on the bond between mothers and sons is seen from the perspective of their devotion towards Apollo. With Niobe and Thetis, Callimachus contrasts the nymph Cyrene, who like a mother to the Cyrenean youths commends them to the good will of the god. Effectively through their choreia the Cyrenean youths select a life path that, unlike those of Achilles and the Niobids, will benefit their community. In so doing they reaffirm the ties of the community in the same way in which Apollo himself weaves his altar. Their action symbolically reenacts the weaving of the community guaranteeing its future survival. In ritual terms, the wailing sounds that these two women produce contrast strongly with the paeanic euphoria caused by Apollo’s imminent epiphany. Along with the command to keep impure men at bay, Callimachus distances lyric genres that are not appropriate to Apollo. In metapoetic terms Callimachus prioritizes the performance of paeans over dirges.50 Seen from this perspective, Thetis and Niobe are cast as inappropriate to the god, and form part of what Bassi (1989) has termed the poetics of exclusions. The parallels between lines 17–31 of the Hymn to Apollo and Pythian 1 extend to minor details that concern the divine choreia in Pindar and the performance of Apollo’s paean in Callimachus. As has been noted, the first triad of Pythian 1 of-

 47 For Callimachus’s (metapoetic) animosity towards Niobe, see Bings 1988: 117. 48 F. Williams 1978: 31; Stephens 2015a: 85–86 on 17–31. 49 Cheshire 2008: 362. 50 αἴλινα, used as an adverb at line 20 (κινύρεται αἴλινα; cf. F. Williams 1978: 32 ad loc.), echoes the refrain αἲ λίνον in choral performances of dirges; Alexiou 1974: 10–14, 57. Thetis is usually supported in her wailing by her sisters, the Nereids. One choral performance (dirge) is thus contrasted with another (paean). In addition, lamentation is generally seen as the genre discourse appropriate to married women (Lonsdale 1993: 233; Stehle 1996: 109–110); so, their silencing signals the demotion of their genre and the prioritization of Apollo’s.

260  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo fers a detailed description of a choral performance on Olympus that sets the background for the performance of Pindar’s ode in honor of Hieron.51 The first lines offer a description of the performance rich in technical terms. Pindar’s description comprises three elements that offer the model for Callimachus’s generic, and so paradigmatic, performance of the paean: (1) choral performance; (2) bards; (3) effect of performance upon surrounding nature. In particular, βάσις describes the maneuvers of the dancers.52 Their movements listen, and respond, to the lyre and thus commence the celebrations (ἀγλαΐα). Choral performance is accompanied by singing: bards (ἀοιδοί) obey the signals of the lyre when it is struck. The combination of music, dancing, and singing puts to sleep the ever-flowing fire, the thunderbolt which Zeus uses as his spear. Callimachus reproduces all three elements. The singing of the poet is identified through the praise of Apollo’s bow and lyre. The chorus of the Cyrenean youths is referred to in lines 28–31, and the effect of the paean is reproduced through the ritual silence of Apollo’s devotees and the silencing of Thetis and Niobe. Additionally, the poet can hear the χέλυς at line 16 in the same way in which dancing listens to Apollo’s lyre in Pythian 1. On this basis one can see the first part of Callimachus’s hymn as a miniature hymn to Apollo, reproducing the transcendent and timeless effect of Apollonine music in the opening of Pythian 1. By referring to the preparations of the members of the chorus, Callimachus reproduces the effect that the advent of the god has on the members of the chorus and self-referentially describes the role of his chorus and of himself. After this technical section is over, the poet proceeds to the mythological material exactly as Pindar does in Pythian 1: the first triad contains a technical description of the performance through the mirror of Apollo and the Muses; this leads to the myth that concerns the praise of the laudandus. The difference between the generic traditions in which Pindar’s and Callimachus’s poems are inscribed causes obvious differences in the structures of each poem. Nonetheless, Callimachus too associates the description of the performance with the praise of the god and of the Ptolemaic king.

 51 K.A. Morgan (2015: 312) posits a paradigmatic Olympian celebration whose effects are echoed and replicated in the mortal world. For the quality of the Olympian performance see Fearn 2017: 174–184. 52 Burton 1962: 94; Cingano 1995 ad loc.

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Aspects of Apollo’s Godhood The rest of Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo is dedicated to the praise proper of the god. Apollo is associated with husbandry, religion, medicine, and city planning. Apollo continues Zeus’s work in Callimachus’s first Hymn but on the mortal level, setting the foundations for the development of human life.53 The collaboration of Apollo with Artemis in establishing the altar on Delos looks forward to the next two hymns in the collection: the rivalry between Artemis and Apollo is central to the third hymn;54 the Delian altar foreshadows the story of Apollo’s birth and the γέρανος dance instituted by Theseus on Delos (308–313). Apollo, however, does not build a city, but an altar.55 The selection becomes pertinent in light of the description of Apollo’s altar in Cyrene. A spin-off of the previous myth about the Delian cult of Apollo (55–64), lines 80–84 narrate the founding of Cyrene by Battus and the establishing of Apollo’s Cyrenean cult. After a brief interlude that celebrates the altar of Cyrenean Apollo, Callimachus includes episodes from the early history of Cyrene. This part is followed by the description of Apollo’s victory over the Pythian dragon, which also accounts for the paeanic cry hiē paiēōn (97– 104). Apollo’s Delphic cult completes the triptych of Delos, Cyrene, and Delphi as the sacred haunts of Apollo. Placing the Carneia on an equal footing with the Delian and Pythian festivals of Apollo endows the Dorian festival, which the Homeric bard ignores, with equal claims of antiquity.56 Unlike the relevant Homeric hymn, Callimachus does not pick a specific myth which he narrates in full. Instead, he adopts an encyclopedic approach, enumerating aspects of Apollo’s godhead and perfunctorily touching upon a series of myths. In this manner, Callimachus stays true to Pindaric poetics.57 The discussion of the opening lines of Pindar’s first Hymn is contextualized in a polemic between Pindar and Corinna regarding the proper use of myth. Judging from both the mythological part of Callimachus’s second Hymn and the metapoetic epilogue that follows, Callimachus is striving to produce a similar effect. This technique contextualizes the various allusions to Pindar in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo.

 53 For Callimachus’s gods as protectors of civic communities, see Petrovic 2007: 151–153. 54 Ukleja 2005: 53–75. 55 Nonetheless several colonization myths focus on the symbolism inherent in the erection of an altar: the altar symbolizes the founding of a new cult and the creation of a new city. Note, for intance, the connection between the founding of Athena’s altar and the birth of Rhodes in Olympian 7 and Artemis’s altar at Tiryns in Bacchylides 11; cf. Dougherty 1993: 125, 130. 56 Cahen 1930: 65; Calame 1993: 46, 50; Cheshire 2005: 347. 57 Cf. Pyth. 10.54 with Angeli Bernardini 1995a: 641 ad loc.

262  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo Praising Apollo, Callimachus catalogues the aspects that define the persona of the god. Apollo is associated with gold, youth, and medicine. Particularly the last aspect of Apollo’s role tallies with Callimachus’s interest in paeans, Paean Apollo being considered a healing god. Apollo is an archer, singer, healer, and seer. These attributes do not lead to extensive mythological digressions, but to short allusions. The first myth associated with a cult aspect of Apollo is mentioned in lines 47–54. These lines account for the cult appellation Nomios connecting it with Apollo’s servitude to the mortal Admetus. Two elements stand out: first, the homoerotic coloring of the myth typical of Hellenistic poets such as Rhianus and Phanocles;58 second, the benefits that Apollo bestows on Admetus’s herds. In both these regards, as Cheshire (2005: 333–334) notes, the story of Admetus prepares for the benefactions that Apollo will bestow upon the youths of the chorus and their community. In this respect, one may claim that Apollo’s interest in the Cyrenean youths replicates the god’s interest in Admetus and Cyrene herself. The cult of Nomios has a specific Cyrenean interest.59 In Pythian 9, the cult of Nomios does not concern Apollo but rather his son by Cyrene, Aristaeus. Pindar mentions that Hermes will deliver the baby to be reared by the Horae and Gaia. They will raise Aristaeus to be a source of joy and support to mortals. Replicating elements of Zeus and Apollo, Aristaeus will also be a “hunter and herder” (Ἀγρέα καὶ Νόμιον) (63–65).60 Accordingly, Aristaeus could be seen as an hypostasis of Apollo. Indeed Callimachus subsumes Aristaeus into one of Apollo’s aspects (Apollo Nomios).61 Projecting a Cyrenean attribute (i.e. Nomios) onto a Thessalian myth (Admetus), Callimachus blurs the boundaries and conflates the two localities. The liaison between Apollo and Admetus balances that between Apollo and Cyrene. The six lines (90–96) that Callimachus dedicates to Cyrene in her capacity as consort of Apollo parallel the seven lines (47–54) attributed to Admetus. The connection of Cyrene and Thessaly is effected in this case through the role of

 58 Callimachus draws for this version on some lost poem of Rhianus: F. Williams 1978: 49 ad loc. 59 F. Williams 1978: 48 ad loc. 60 Duchemin 1967: 78; Carey 1981: 84; Giannini 1995: 605–606; Instone 1996: 132 ad loc. 61 On the testimony of Servius this identification can be traced back to Hesiod’s Catalogue of Women (fr. 216 M.-W.). Along similar lines, Callimachus ignores Asclepius, another one of Apollo’s sons, focusing instead on Apollo’s attribute as Paieon. As F. Williams 1978: 48 on line 46 notes, “Once again Call. tacitly rejects the claim of such lesser deities.”

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Apollo as god of pasturing, which parallels Cyrene’s similar function.62 In Pythian 9, Apollo happens upon Cyrene as she is wrestling with a lion on Mount Pelion. Callimachus maintains Cyrene’s struggle with the lion but relocates it to Cyrene. However, Cyrene does not protect the sheep of her father, as in Pindar’s version, but those of the African king Eurypylus.63 In Pindar’s account of the Argonautic expedition, Triton assumes the form of Eurypylus and bestows upon Euphemus the clod that would eventually lead to the founding of Cyrene (Pythian 4.35–48). Callimachus may be trying to associate Cyrene with the Argonautic expedition. Instead of presenting Euphemus interacting with Eurypylus, he selects Cyrene.64 However this may be, killing a lion is a trope of royal prowess,65 and Callimachus alters the myth to support Hellenic claims on Libyan soil. The presence of a pre-Hellenic indigenous population in what later become Cyrene seems to be a staple theme of the myth acknowledged both in the Hymn to Apollo, Pythian 5, and Pythian 9. Cyrene’s defeat of the lion parallels Apollo’s Pythian victory and accounts for the military aspect of the Theran colonizers, called ζωστῆρες Ἐνυοῦς (“warriors wearing the girdle of the goddess of war”) at line 85.66 The catalogue of Apollo’s attributes as a structuring device for the presentation and the arrangement of mythological material and the Cyrenean relevance of the selected myths are two elements that Callimachus borrows from Pindar’s Pythian 5.67 In the midst of this rich mythological material Callimachus offers a compressed account of the route followed by the founders of Cyrene from Sparta to Thera and from there to Cyrene under the guidance of Apollo and the leadership of Battus. Battus institutes a royal line that comes down to the current king of Cyrene, intriguingly left unnamed in lines 26–27. The only thing Callimachus reveals about this king is that he is associated with Apollo. The link between Apollo and Battus that leads to the founding of the prosperous North African colony is replicated by  62 The combination of Cyrenaean and Thessalian material is also discussed by Cahen 1930: 78 who draws attention to the combination of Eurypylus and Hypsēis. 63 Cyrene’s connection to Eurypylus probably goes back to the local Cyrenean historian Acesandros (FGrHist 469 F 4 = BNJ 469 F 4). See F. Williams 1978: 79 on 91; Calame 1993: 41 with note 8. 64 Cyrene is associated with the Argonautic expedition also in the Hymn to Artemis. Callimachus implies that Cyrene participated in the funeral games in honor of Pelias in Iolcus (206–208). 65 Krummen 2014: 169–170. Krummen (169–170n6) also notes the parallel between Battus and Cyrene: both figures defeat lions and demonstrate their royal charisma, which grants them control over the land colonized. Apparently, Pindar tampers with the original version (Pausanias 10.15.7) representing Battus in a more heroic light; Farnell 1932: 176–177 on 57–62; Burton 1962: 145. 66 Nicolai 1992: 163–168 offers an exhaustive discussion of the term. 67 Cahen 1930: 61; F. Williams 1978: 45 on 42–46; D’Alessio 2007: vol. 1, 86n20; Stephens 2015a: 75.

264  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo the close association, perhaps even identification, between Apollo and Callimachus’s king. A prominent feature of the Hymn to Apollo is the juxtaposition of temporal frames and the poetics of reenactment. Battus reenacts the architectonic aspect of Apollo’s activity on Delos. The celebrations of the Cyrenean youths around the same altar that Battus established centuries ago recalls that of the first Theran colonizers witnessed by Apollo and his consort Cyrene. The current celebration coincides with the epiphanic advent of Apollo heralded at the opening of the hymn. Finally, the military standing of the first Cyreneans prefigures that the youths celebrating the Carneia under Callimachus’s tutelage will prove themselves to be valiant warriors like their ancestor, Cyrene as the slayer of the lion, and ultimately Apollo himself as the destroyer of Python.68 Guaranteeing the good will of the god promises a thriving future for the city of Cyrene as the myth of Admetus implies. The founding of Cyrene, the juxtaposition of frames, but more importantly the association of the current sovereign with Battus and through him with Apollo reflect salient features of Pindaric discourse such as the association of Arcesilaus with Battus and Apollo in Pythian 4 but especially in Pythian 5. Pythian 5 lays the emphasis on the royal standing of the victor and his connection with the founder of the line, Battus. It also includes a catalogue of Apollo’s attributes that Callimachus adapts in the Hymn to Apollo. Despite the similarities between the two poems, Pindar and Callimachus reflect the generic traditions in which they are working. Epinician ideology influences the mythological account Pindar offers in Pythian 5. The ode opens with a reference to πλοῦτος “wealth,” a common theme in odes celebrating potentates such Hieron and Theron (1–4). Ὁ πλοῦτος εὐρυσθενής, ὅταν τις ἀρετᾷ κεκραμένον καθαρᾷ βροτήσιος ἀνὴρ πότμου παραδόντος αὐτὸν ἀνάγῃ πολύφιλον ἑπέταν. Wealth has strength far and wide when it is mixed with pure excellence, and given by fate it serves as the dearest companion to a mortal man.

 68 The juxtaposition of the Cyrenean youths with Cyrene reflects the similar relationship between Telesicrates and Cyrene in Pythian 9. In both cases, the masculine aspects of Cyrene’s persona bring her close to the sexually ambiguous status of youths transitioning from adolescence to adulthood. Both of Apollo’s favorites, Admetus and Cyrene, exhibit elements that suggest that the Cyrenean chorus will please Apollo in the manner of the mythological parallels mentioned.

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The opening of Pythian 5 combines staples of epinician ideology—excellence, wealth, and divine benefaction. Excellence is manifested through Arcesilaus’s recent victory, which combines spending and the good will of Apollo, patron god of the Pythian Games. In all these aspects, Arcesilaus is on the highest step of good fame (5–9). This singling-out of the Cyrenean king brings to the poet’s mind the similar good fate enjoyed by his forefather, Battus. Royal propaganda aside, the links between Arcesilaus and Battus are particularly strong and susceptible to an epinician moulding.69 As the victor’s ancestor, Battus exemplifies the innate excellence that runs in the clan. Battus also prospered under the good will of Apollo both in overcoming his speech impediment and establishing Cyrene (55– 62). The connection between Cyrenean kings and Apollo withstands the test of time, manifesting itself in the founding of colonies and athletic victories. Pindar juxtaposes the founding of colonies and athletic victories in other odes as well, particularly in Pythian 9. The angle from which he approaches the connection in that song is totally different. The interest is in the marital side of Cyrene’s story and its influence on the victory of the nubile Telesicrates. The eroticism of the victor contextualizes the juxtaposition with Cyrene in a way that is not appropriate to Arcesilaus’s circumstances. In Pythian 5 Pindar selects a different point of contact that parallels Battus and Arcesilaus in terms of the πόνοι involved in their respective enterprises (54): πόνων δ’ οὔ τις ἀπόκλαρός ἐστιν οὔτ’ ἔσεται· ὁ Βάττου δ’ ἕπεται παλαιὸς ὄλβος ἔμπαν τὰ καὶ τὰ νέμων, πύργος ἄστεος ὄμμα τε φαεννότατον ξένοισι.

(55)

There never was nor will there ever be a mortal without his share of troubles; the old good fortune of Battus perseveres having a share of boons and ills, a rampart and most bright eye for strangers.

The gnome about πόνοι, referring here to troubles rather than athletic exertion, bridges the temporal gap between the two kings.70 Celebrating their mortality, Pindar emphasizes Apollo’s omnipotence. This declaration comes after the reference to the ἀγλαοὶ ἄεθλοι (“the glorious feats”) at Pytho and before the founding of Cyrene. The ὄλβος (“bliss”) of Battus reflects positively on that of Arcesilaus.  69 Dougherty 1993: 105–112. 70 Dougherty 1993: 110; Giannini 1995: 526–527 ad loc.

266  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo The lines immediately following these (57–62) register the role of Apollo in guiding the expedition to Cyrene and the help the oracle of Delphi provided Battus with regard to his stumbling. The role of the Delphic oracle is recalled in Pythian 4. Although in Pythian 4 Pindar is more interested in the interlocking of prophetic utterances through time, here he focuses on the healing aspect of Apollo—an aspect that pertains to his role as Paiēōn.71 The realization that Apollo plays a double role in the story of Battus, as ἀρχαγέτας (“leader”) and healer, leads to a short exposition on Apollo’s roles that prefaces the actual myth about the founding of Cyrene and registers the Dorian ancestry of the Cyreneans. Lines 63–69 offer a generic list of Apollo’s functions that motivates the transition from Apollo’s healing of Battus to Apollo’s leading the founding of Cyrene: ὃ καὶ βαρειᾶν νόσων ἀκέσματ’ ἄνδρεσσι καὶ γυναιξὶ νέμει, πόρεν τε κίθαριν, δίδωσί τε Μοῖσαν οἷς ἂν ἐθέλῃ, ἀπόλεμον ἀγαγών ἐς πραπίδας εὐνομίαν, μυχόν τ’ ἀμφέπει μαντήϊον

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He dispenses remedies of serious illnesses to men and women; he gave us also the lyre, and offers the Muse to whomever he wishes; having led good order to the mind far from war, he posseses the mantic hollow.

Callimachus has these lines in mind when he offers his own list of Apollo’s attributes (42–46): τέχνῃ δ’ ἀμφιλαφὴς οὔτις τόσον ὅσσον Ἀπόλλων· κεῖνος ὀϊστευτὴν ἔλαχ’ ἀνέρα, κεῖνος ἀοιδόν (Φοίβῳ γὰρ καὶ τόξον ἐπιτρέπεται καὶ ἀοιδή), κείνου δὲ θριαὶ καὶ μάντιες· ἐκ δέ νυ Φοίβου ἰητροὶ δεδάασιν ἀνάβλησιν θανάτοιο.

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 71 Callimachus does not dwell on Battus’s speech defect. Nonetheless, as the ancient scholia (Pfeiffer vol. 2, 52 ad loc.) point out, οὖλος Ἀριστοτέλης at line 76 is an allusion to the reasons why Battus visited the oracle at Delphi in the first place. Callimachus does not refute the traditional version: οὖλος may imply that Battus arrived in Cyrene having been cured by Apollo.

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No one is as rich in arts as Apollo; to him falls the archer, to him the singer (for bows and songs are entrusted to Phoebus) his are the prophetic pebbles and oracles; from Phoebus have doctors mastered how to postpone death.

Both lists focus on the same aspects: music, healing, and oracles. The arrangement of each in their respective context serves the sequence of thought in each poem. By referencing medicine last, Callimachus pits this aspect of Apollo against the myth of his servitude to Admetus, thus evoking the version about Asclepius he avoids.72 The benefactions to the cattle of Admetus register the beneficial influence of Apollo on agriculture. The construction of the Delian altar points to his importance for civic communities, thus completing Apollo’s relevance to human existence. From here it is but a small step to exemplify Apollo’s role by recalling a specific example—that is, the founding of Cyrene. A notable difference in these two lists concerns Pindar’s omission of Apollo’s bow. In Callimachus’s hymn the reference to the god’s bow looks forward to Apollo’s encounter with the Pythian dragon. In this respect, it is part of Apollo’s benefactions to mortals. Additionally, Apollo’s victory offers the first occasion for the performance of paean. Apollo’s bow then is not only a means of defeating monsters but also of enabling peaceful existence for the communities of men. Pindar may not reference this aspect of Apollo’s godhood, but he does offer to Callimachus the point about Apollo being the guarantor of civic order and peace. The association of “good order” (εὐνομία) with peace (ἀπόλεμος) leads to Apollo’s mantic role. The compound ἀπόλεμος presupposes the defeat of hostile powers in combat. Apollo’s guardianship of the Delphic oracle is thus cast as a divine role model for mortal communities and presupposes Apollo’s cleansing of the area by eliminating the Pythian dragon. Thus Apollo is the role model for Battus who scares the lions of Cyrene (Pythian 5.56–57) and Cyrene who similar to Apollo defeats the lion in Callimachus’s hymn. The political aspect of Apollo’s mantic role in Pythian 5 is further strengthened by the transition to the prehistory of the Carneia and the founding of Cyrene. The use of the pronominal adverb τῶι “in this manner” (69) implies that the Thessalian and Doric communities from which the Cyreneans draw their descent are examples of εὐνομία and that the Cyreneans are too through their adherence to Doric traditions.73 Ultimately, Apollo is praised by both poets as the god of tradition and civic peace.  72 Cahen 1930: 62–63; F. Williams 1978: 49–50 ad loc. 73 Dougherty 1993: 115.

268  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo The unity of thought that permeates the list in Pindar’s poem in regard to Apollo’s remits applies also to Callimachus’s hymn. Appreciation of it can help us understand why the royal standing of Arcesilaus is elaborated upon in Pythian 5 and why Callimachus includes the unnamed king in this part of the poem. Pindar refers to war apophatically through the circumlocution ἀπόλεμον … εὐνομίαν “the state of being governed well without war.” War is envisaged only as being antithetical to the state described as εὐνομία. By referencing war in negative terms, Pindar associates it with a series of evils that Apollo can set right. As we already said, the list in Pythian 5 is motivated by Apollo’s healing of Battus’s stumbling. War is thus classed in the same category as civic illnesses remedied through the agency of the healing god. On the positive side of the list, there are healing, music, and oracles. The analogy between human body and civic community permeates the list: Apollo heals humans and in a similar way their communities. His weapons are remedies (ἀκέσματα), but so are also music and oracles. Music in particular is associated with εὐνομία, recalling an association most prominently expressed in the opening section of Pythian 1.74 Oracles hold a parallel function to music in that they communicate the god’s designs to either individuals such as Battus or to whole communities. Callimachus subscribes to the same set of associations. In describing the manner in which Callimachus formats choreia in this poem, we pointed out that the Cyrenean youths reestablish the ties of their society through their communal undertaking—dancing in honor of the god. Their interlocking and dancing movements around the god’s altar parallel, and imitate, the weaving of the altar by the god himself. In as much as this weaving of the altar is seen as a preface to the founding of Cyrene, Callimachus suggests a route leading from dancing to erecting altars and from there to building cities. But the Cyrenean youths have a double role as dancers and warriors that Callimachus registers following a Pindaric detail.75 In transitioning from puberty to adulthood,

 74 Burton 1962: 92, 104. 75 Pindar refers to the Cyrenean founding fathers as δωροφόροι (86, “spear-bearers”) in connection with the reception of the Antenorids (80–95). The reception of the Antenorids (86, δέκονται) and the offerings made to them (86, οἰχνέοντες) by the Theran men suggest a prototypical Carneia that parallels and contextualizes the festival in which Pythian 5 was probably performed. Thus Pindar’s chorus would parallel Battus’s spear-bearing Therans, while the Antenorids would offer a mythological foil to Karrhotos; cf. Krummen 2014: 143–153. As I argue below, the analogy between the performance of Pythian 5 and the reception of the Antenorids parallels that between the embedded performance in Hymn 2 and the prototypical dance of the ζωστῆρες Ἐνυοῦς.

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these youths will act as soldiers, taking up an additional role. Callimachus intriguingly refers to the sides of the Delian altar, as τοίχους “walls”, suggesting an analogy between altars and cities. Apollo is credited with building the walls of Troy, a significant act in transforming the early Trojan community into an actual city.76 The chorus members imitate their warrior ancestors and above all Cyrene herself in warding off potential danger. In the opening section of the hymn, Callimachus associates honoring Apollo’s epiphany with a series of rewards that the god will bestow upon the youths: securing good marriages; reaching old age; and guaranteeing the stability of Cyrene’s walls on ancient foundations. Cyrenean εὐνομία is contingent on these benefactions. Following this, the ritual and cosmic εὐφημία that Callimachus proclaims in the opening lines translates Pindaric εὐνομία in purely musical terms, varying the association in Pythian 1. The ritual imperative εὐφημεῖτε at line 17 incorporates the name of Euphemus the ancestor of the Battiad royal line. Preserving ritual silence restates in performative terms the social order that Euphemus’s descendants guarantee. Pindar emphasizes the peaceful, harmonious aspects of Apollonian activity. Callimachus receives these, but through the imagery of his poem suggests that ἀπόλεμος … εὐνομία is predicated on the imitation of Apollonian music (also a Pindaric idea) that involves the chorus. The members of the chorus, however, are not just dancers but also citizens and warriors. Callimachus celebrates this aspect of Cyrenean Apollo, making it reverberate in his presentation of the Theran colonists and Cyrene. What is more, the celebration of Apollo as Παιήων shows the god as a defender of cosmic εὐνομία through the defeat of the Pythian dragon. The healing role of Apollo subsumes all others and reflects on the genre affiliations of Callimachus’s poem as paean. Ultimately, Pindar and Callimachus agree. The message is the same in both poems, but there is a palpable difference in perspective stemming from the different generic codes in which each poem is written.77 Pindar celebrates the athletic victory as a token of cultured, peaceful coexistance. In times of peace, athletic victories express prowess. The healing of Battus, the founding of Cyrene, and the victory of Arcesilaus are aspects of Apollo’s paeanic (healing) function. Callimachus restates this view of the god laying the emphasis instead on war and music: in both these areas Apollo’s role is differentiated from the anarchy of his brother Ares in the Hymn to Delos; war and music are means whereby Apollo heals problems and lays the foundations of peaceful communities. Cyrene is the product of this activity, and the Ptolemaic king will make sure to enforce the same  76 Scully 1990: 6–53. 77 For paeanic echoes in Pythian 5, see Currie 2005: 227; Krummen 2014: 164.

270  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo principles following Apollo’s example. This background explains the difference in the manner Pindar and Callimachus conceptualize the relationship between Apollo and Arcesilaus or the Ptolemaic king respectively. For Pindar, Apollo is the guardian of both Battus and Arcesilaus, the god who through his tutelage enables mortal kings to attain greatness. For Callimachus, Battus reenacts and imitates Apollo’s actions so much so that he prepares the ground for the Ptolemaic king to appear not only as an imitator of Apollo but also as his earthly surrogate in the context of the dynastic cult.

The King There is some evidence that at least some of the hymns included in Callimachus’s book of hymns had Ptolemaic associations.78 The clearest indication is provided by the Hymn to Delos, which parallels the birth of Ptolemy II Philadelphus on Kos to that of Apollo on Delos. Apollo’s oracle in the same hymn compares Apollo’s defeat of the invading Gauls that threatened the Delphic oracle with Ptolemy’s execution of the Gallic mercenaries in Egypt. The identity of the Ptolemy referenced is secure: Callimachus praises Ptolemy II Philadelphus, the son of Ptolemy I Soter. Apollo’s allusion to Philadelphus as “another god” (θεὸς ἄλλος) intimates the nascent cult of the reigning monarch. Theocritus’s Encomium of Ptolemy Philadelphus describes the birth of the same king on Kos. The scene is heavily indebted to the birth of Apollo as described in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. The analogy between reigning monarch and Apollo, which appears in both Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos and Theocritus’s Encomium of Philadelphus, reflects a theme of court ideology. The opening lines of Theocritus’s Encomium suggest that Philadelphus is compared at the same time with both Zeus and Apollo. Callimachus represents a similar situation. The Hymn to Zeus parallels the establishing of young Zeus’s rule to that of a Ptolemaic king, in all probability Philadelphus.79 Apollo, however, is not a king, and his selection as a royal figure must derive from different considerations. One reason for Apollo’s popularity, particularly in Ptolemaic Egypt, may derive from this god’s assimilation to the Egyptian royal god Horus: as son of another royal god (Osiris), associated with the sun, and last divine ruler, Horus com-

 78 Stephens 2015a: 14–16 and passim. 79 Petrovic 2007: 121. Analogy with Zeus in terms of kingship goes as far back as Pindar’s Pythian 1: Lefkowitz 1976: 109; Segal 1985: 228; K.A. Morgan 2015: 314–320.

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bines attributes that render Apollo an effective royal model. The Ptolemaic associations that Apollo has in Hellenistic literature do not mean that praise of the sovereign was a sine qua non condition for the composition of a hymn in Apollo’s honor. Hymns 3, 5, and 6 do not promulgate, at least not explicitly, the assimilation of any member of the dynasty with the god praised. The Hymn to Apollo would belong in the same category was it not for the explicit assimilation of an unnamed king (26–27) to Apollo: ὃς μάχεται μακάρεσσιν, ἐμῷ βασιλῆι μάχοιτο· ὅστις ἐμῷ βασιλῆι, καὶ Ἀπόλλωνι μάχοιτο. May he who fights against the blessed gods fight against my king; may he who fights against my king fight also against Apollo.

These two lines are the only explicit indication of a Ptolemaic subtext. Even if Callimachus had not told us so, the focus on Cyrene must be contextualized in the difficult relationship between the kingdoms of Egypt and Cyrene. Unlike the Hymn to Zeus and Hymn to Delos, in which Callimachus provides sufficient evidence to reveal the identity of the praised monarch, this is not possible in this hymn. At the outset, one should state that the possibility of Callimachus’s praising a Cyrenean monarch (e.g. Magas) is limited.80 There is no reason to dissociate this poem from the cultural milieu of Ptolemaic Alexandria. The assimilation of the monarch to Apollo is more easily understandable in light of other Ptolemaic, and particularly Callimachean, poems rather than for a Cyrenean monarch for whom such assimilations, if ever current, are unattested in Callimachus’s work. The identification of the Ptolemy referred to in lines 26–27 stumbles at the lack of any concrete evidence.81 In all likelihood, the Cyrenean coloring of this hymn reflects the circumstances that followed or even preceded the formal reunification of the two kingdoms through the marriage of Ptolemy III Euergetes to Berenice II. If the hymn looks ahead to the imminent wedding, the king mentioned could be Ptolemy II. However, there is no reason to deny the honor to his  80 So Cameron 1995: 407–409 following Meillier 1979: 97, and Stephens 2015a: 18–19. The importance of Apollo as patron god of Cyrene does not exclude his relevance for the Egyptian king, as the Hymn to Delos and Theocritus 17 also suggest. In addition, if the hymn reflects the annexation of Cyrene to the Ptolemaic empire, the double relevance of Apollo as patron god of Cyrene and royal Ptolemaic god makes Callimachus’s choice the more apposite. Regarding the lack of any reference to the royal wedding, see note 83 below. 81 F. Williams 1978: 36 ad loc. does not turn down the identification with Ptolemy III Euergetes suggested by the scholiast, but concludes that there is no sufficient evidence for or against any such identification.

272  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo son and successor.82 Actually, the reaffirmation of Euergetes’s Cyrenean royal standing after his marriage could not have been more successful than in the important local festival of the Carneia. By proclaiming their devotion to Apollo, the youths of Cyrene also declare their loyalty to the young king. And what better occasion for this than after his succession to the throne and marriage to Berenice II? In this manner, the Ptolemaic assimilation of the king to Apollo also operates in the Cyrenean cultural context, taking into consideration the traditions particular to this part of the Ptolemaic empire.83 Pindar’s Pythian 5 offers Callimachus a suitable model for his praise of Ptolemy.84 Even though Arcesilaus did not drive the chariot himself, Pindar praises his hereditary excellence, which is also manifested through Arcesilaus’s liberality, hospitability, and fair rule. Against this background Pindar can refer to Arcesilaus’s famous ancestor and founder of Cyrene, Battus. The prominence of Apollo as benefactor or supporter of both kings in the Pythian victory and founding of Cyrene is a factor facilitating the comparison. Battus then does double service in the praise discourse of Pythian 5: he is the ancestor of the victor and can thus account for the victor’s prowess; but he is also a mythological example (foil) to which the victor can be compared regarding the bliss (ὄλβος) he has attained. Using the same eulogistic discourse in the praise of Ptolemy would not work for obvious reasons: the Ptolemies could claim no such link to the Battiad dynasty. Callimachus avoids this awkwardness by not revealing the identity of the Ptolemy he means. Instead he alludes to “my king” (ἐμῶι βασιλεῖ) and later to “our kings” (68, ἡμετέροις βασιλεῦσιν).85 Through this ambiguity Callimachus inserts

 82 For the identification, see also Smotrytsch 1961; Fraser 1972: vol. 1, 653. The most recent dating of the hymn by Brumbaugh (2016: 64) between 259/8 and 240 BCE would allow for such an interpretation. For a similar late dating towards the end of Callimachus’s career, see Cahen 1930: 47; Fraser 1972: vol. 2, 53. 83 Cameron 1995: 407 objects that Callimachus makes no mention of Ptolemy III Euergetes’s wedding to Berenice II: still, the strongly erotic terms in which Callimachus depicts the original choreia of the Theran settlers and the Libyan women echoes the erotic discourse that is appropriate to the praise of the royal marriage. See also below pp. 284–286. This said, the anonymity of the king may very well be a device of Callimachus’s discourse meant to enable “reperformances” for future monarchs: cf. Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 2, 81; A.D. Morrison 2007b:127n134 quoting Selden 1998: 385; Brumbaugh 2016: 89. For a similar possibility with regard to the Hymn to Zeus, see the discussion in the previous chapter p. 216. 84 A.D. Morrison 2007b: 127–128. 85 Although he recognizes that the plural βασιλεῦσιν refers to the Battiad kings, F. Williams 1978: 65 ad loc. attributes the line to the speaking person, whom he identifies solely with the poet. Williams also turns down the suggestion that Callimachus might present Ptolemy as suc-

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Ptolemy into the host of Cyrenean kings, evading difficult questions of genealogy.86 Both poems describe the acts of Battus as the founder of Cyrene. Callimachus focuses on the altars and the καλὸν ἀνάκτορον where sacrifices are offered to Apollo. The selection of these references tallies with the juxtaposition of Apollo and Battus as builders of temples. On the other hand, Pindar lays the emphasis on the agora. In particular, Battus designates shrines for the gods (89, ἄλσεα) and builds a wide road for processions that crosses the agora in a straight line and can be traveled by horses (89–94). The agora is also the resting place of Battus (94–98). The juxtaposition of Arcesilaus with Battus is not motivated solely by considerations of generic tradition—that is, the praise of the victor’s ancestors. It also takes into account the space in which the celebrations in honor of Arcesilaus probably happened:87 in this respect, generic considerations mirror elements of the performative space (98–107). In particular, the epinician ode celebrating Arcesilaus’s victory (106–107) is performed by youths that honor Phoebus (104– 105). The agora is the location of Apollo’s temple and the resting place of Battus. As Krummen (2014) has shown, the geography of the performative space is reflected in the mythology of the song. Celebration of Arcesilaus is thus paralleled to that of Battus and of Apollo, preparing for a set of analogies further developed by Callimachus. The reason for this parallelism between Arcesilaus and Battus lies in the enhanced role that Battus enjoys as a hero buried at the center of Cyrene—a future Arcesilaus may also aspire to.88 According to Pindar, the old kings of Cyrene delight in the success of their descendant, which reflects positively on them as well (101–103). The celebration of “great virtues” through κῶμοι resembles libations offered in their honor (108–110). This enables the communication between Arcesilaus’s present with the past of his ancestors and strengthens the continuity of the royal line. In this respect, the performative model Pindar establishes is imitated by Callimachus who also invests performances with the dynamic of ensuring historical continuity and communication through time.89  cessor to Battus and his royal house. The ambiguity of the voice, however, renders any identification of Callimachus with the speaking voice precarious, to say the least. If the voice is meant to be shared by the poet as χορηγός and the chorus, there is nothing implausible in the poet suggesting a link between the Battiads and the Ptolemies. 86 Wilamowitz (1924: vol. 2, 80) associates the singular with Ptolemy II Philadelphus and the plural with both Ptolemy II and his son and successor Ptolemy III Euergetes. The reason for this would be that Cyrene had already been offered to Ptolemy III as crown prince. 87 For the agora as the possible place of performance, see Krummen 2014: 137. 88 Currie 2005: 229–248. 89 Krummen 2014: 135–136.

274  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo Battus’s tomb marks the end of the agora but also the boundaries between mortality and heroic status. In life Battus was μάκαρ among his subjects. The adjective implies a status above that of an ordinary mortal man.90 The temporal adverb ἔπειτα (95) suggests the death of Battus. Battus is ἥρως λαοσεβής, “a hero worshiped by his people.” This is an indication of the hero cult with which the founder of the city was honored. Reaching the tomb of Battus, Arcesilaus, figuratively through his victory but also in actuality through the movements of the chorus celebrating his victory, reaches the furthest edge any mortal can go—a principle that is exemplified in this context by the heroic status of Battus. Battus’s successors are buried as a group separately from the oἰκηστής.91 Their status is not clear, but Pindar refers to them as ἱεροί (96) (“sacred”). Pindar implies that through his victory at Delphi Arcesilaus has come very close to the status that these kings enjoy in their death. The victory song is the conduit that allows the communication between the two worlds: the epinician song offers as libation to the dead ancestors the mild dew of a great prowess so that the ancestors may rejoice therein; as for the victor, the song is the best recompense for his exertion. In time, he too shall share in their immortality and bliss. For the time being he needs to make due with what poetry can offer. Although Callimachus does not reproduce Pindar’s praise plan, he retains some salient features of it. Callimachus does not juxtapose Ptolemy with Battus because he lacks the genealogical grounds to do so. Instead, Callimachus capitalizes on the assimilation of the Egyptian monarch to Apollo and uses this as the foundation upon which he reworks the material he borrows from Pythian 5. Whilst Arcesilaus and Battus are associated on the basis of their common mortal suffering and toil, Callimachus offers a more complicated structure that entails the following relationships: first, Callimachus defines the relationship between Ptolemy and Apollo as one of analogy and equality (26–27); second, Callimachus offers a second such relationship between Battus and Apollo as builders and founders (65–79). Apollo guides Battus and hands him the rule over Cyrene and its people. Ptolemy is de facto the heir to Battus, a claim also supported by his marriage to a Cyrenean princess. The analogy between Battus and Ptolemy is maintained through the prism of either man’s respective relationship with Apollo. Callimachus’s connection may seem tenuous at best. Still, it reflects the basis of Pindar’s discourse. Arcesilaus and Battus are each associated with Apollo, and this aspect strengthens the dynastic link they share with each other. Apollo promised Battus a new homeland, and delivered his promise. Callimachus  90 Dougherty 1993: 112; Currie 2005: 229–231. 91 Currie 2005: 242–246.

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bases Ptolemaic claims on Cyrene on the same promise which includes also Ptolemy. The first trope that Callimachus uses in order to to introduce Ptolemy in Cyrenean mythology concerns the ambiguity of “our kings” at line 68. Scholars have called attention to the discrepancy between ἐμῶι βασιλεῖ (“my kind”) in lines 26– 27 and ἡμετέροις βασιλεῦσιν (“our kings”) at 68. There are two issues that warrant explication: that of the possessive pronoun, and that of the noun’s number. Some readers have thought that in 26–27 “my” is used instead of “our” because it is Callimachus talking, not the chorus. According to this reading, the performance proper starts at line 32 and stops just before the epilogue. When at line 68 we read “our,” this is an indication that the chorus members are talking. As we have seen, there is no clear demarcation of the choral performance. Neither the putative beginning at line 32 nor the end at line 104 are clearly marked out as such. It is more fruitful, by contrast, to assume that the choral performance starts with the first line and ends with the last.92 As the poem unfolds, the “I” oscillates between the poet who serves as the ἐξάρχων or κορυφαῖος and the chorus members who as a group entity represent the community itself. This reading brings Callimachus in line with archaic lyric tendencies. The difference in the number of the possessive should be approached in light of contextual exigencies. In lines 26–27, the poet as the ἐξάρχων is talking on behalf of the young dancers trying to establish a close personal relationship with the god and the king. Thus he offers a model for the Cyrenean youths to follow. At line 68, the chorus members, including the poet, are talking in their capacity as natives of Cyrene, as representatives of the community for which they are dancing. If Callimachus tries to establish a personal link to the king, they are trying to widen up the relationship to include all of Ptolemy’s subjects. By means of this alteration Callimachus effects a legitimization of Ptolemy’s sovereignty in the eyes of the Cyrenean populace and the presiding deity (Apollo). The above interpretation is supported by a similar discrepancy in Pindar’s Pythian 5. At lines 72 and 75, the person speaking uses singular pronouns (72, τὸ ἐμόν; 75 ἐμοὶ πατέρες) to refer to his descent from Sparta and its Theran ancestors. On the other hand, at line 70 the plural verb σεβίζομεν is used for the Carneia. Older scholars would associate the former with Pindar, who speaks in propria persona, and the latter with the chorus. This interpretation ignores fluctuations in the use of number common in choral discourse.93 Nonetheless,  92 This assumption does not mean that the hymn was actually performed as such, although this is a possibility I would not wish to exclude. Cf. Petrovic 2007: 134. 93 D’Alessio 1994.

276  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo most of these scholars would rightly point out that Pindar means to insert himself, even if only textually, in the chorus and through it identify himself with the Cyrenean audience celebrating the victories of Arcesilaus and the Carneia. In this manner, Pindar establishes a close connection with the community at large.94 Quite likely Callimachus wants to recreate a similar effect to that of Pindar. While Pindar turns to the tombs of Battus and his successors,95 Callimachus describes the “palace” (ἀνάκτορον) that Battus built. Despite this difference, Callimachus’s plural βασιλεῦσιν performs a similar role to Pindar’s lines 94–107. In Pythian 5, that is, Arcesilaus is surrounded by the memorials of his forefathers. This proximity suggests that Arcesilaus stands in a reciprocal relationship with them in respect of kleos. The Battiads rejoice in Arcesilaus’s victory, while Arcesilaus partakes in their heroic honors for the duration of Pindar’s performance. Along similar lines, the plural βασιλεῦσιν in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo situates Ptolemy in the group of the Battiad kings, basing this inclusion on the oracles Apollo gave not only to Battus, but through him to all Cyrenean kings (67– 68). Callimachus then proceeds to register several of Apollo’s cult adjectives that in a priamelic form set off his cult as Apollo Carneius. Callimachus engages in a creative reworking of the Pindaric text, rearranging the order of the material. Pindar uses the list of Apollo’s functions (63–69) as a preface to the role the oracle of Delphi had in guiding Battus to Cyrene. The mention of Apollo’s prophetic powers counterpoise his healing role; both are placed prior to and after the lists of the god’s other attributes. Against this background, Pindar unfolds the colonial prehistory of Cyrene, tracing the lineage of the original colonists to Sparta through Thera. Pindar follows the origins of the Cyrenean back to the Thessalian king Aegimius and Heracles.96 The Thessalian origins of the Cyreneans explain the strong Thessalian coloring in Callimachus’s hymn. Pindar’s ambiguous ἐμοὶ πατέρες (“my ancestors”) at 76 causes us to face the same ambiguity about the identity of the speaker as in Callimachus.97 Trying to distinguish between Pindar and the chorus is a moot point.98 Pindar wishes to

 94 Fraccaroli 1894: 427; Farnell 1932: 179. 95 Krummen 2014: 135–137. 96 Duchemin 1967: 165–167. 97 Kofler 1996: 238–239; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 132–133. 98 This part of Pythian 5 has generated considerable discussion, with both sides having been argued vigorously. Pindar: Farnell 1932: 178–179; Burton 1962: 146–147; Lefkowitz 1985: 45; Dougherty 1993: 113 with n. 25; chorus: Giannini 1995: 161, 532–533 ad loc.; Krummen 2014: 162– 163.

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identify himself with the members of the chorus and through them with the laudandus and his country.99 He can do this as a descendant of the Aegeids. Along similar lines, Callimachus uses the plural “our kings” to stress his connection with the chorus and their community. Callimachus’s claim is actually stronger than that of Pindar since Callimachus actually was a Cyrenean and a Battiad. Callimachus follows Pindar in offering a succinct description of Cyrene’s colonial past. So far we have established similarities with regard to the use of the plural “kings” and the poet’s connection with the chorus. Pindar refers to the Aegeids, but Callimachus refers to his connection with the Carneia as πατρῶιον οὕτω (71).100 He maps the expansion from Sparta to Thera and from there to Cyrene. Callimachus also adds an aside about the progeny of the Spartans. Following the lines on the colonial prehistory of Cyrene, Pindar discusses the establishing of the Carneia and the first sacrifices offered by the colonists in conjunction with the Antenorids. This section is also relevant for Callimachus’s hymn since Callimachus describes the founding of Apollo’s temple and the first Carneia. However, the similarities stop here. Callimachus does not mention either Aegimius or Heracles. Instead he references the Theban Oedipus. Through his grandson Oedipus has Spartan connections. It seems, nonetheless, bizarre that Callimachus would forego the opportunity to associate Cyrene with Heracles, the favorite Ptolemaic god. The mention of Oedipus in this context serves as a textual index that marks Callimachus’s dependence on Pindar. Oedipus is a Theban king and so a compatriot of Pindar. In addition, Pindar mentions Oedipus in a Cyrenean context in Pythian 4 (263). The second device that Callimachus uses to insert Ptolemy into Cyrenean genealogies concerns Cyrene. The marital imagery prominent in the second half of the hymn reflects Ptolemy III’s recent marriage to Berenice II. Clayman (2015: 22– 25) has recently argued that Cyrene is a textual avatar for Berenice. Allegorical interpretations are generally insecure, but one has to admit that there are several reasons why Cyrene is an appealing paragon for the Cyrenean queen. If Ptolemy III is identified with Apollo, then his consort must be Cyrene; in this case the parallel is strong because of Berenice’s Cyrenean provenance. Cyrene is an Amazonlike heroine. Several court poems agree in giving a similar representation of Euergetes’s consort. The fragmentary elegy fr. 388 Pf. references Berenice’s participation in her father’s wars and compares her with both Artemis and Athena. This

 99 Kofler 1996: 243. 100 F. Williams 1978: 67 ad loc.

278  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo may suggest that the relevant hymns are related to Berenice II, but, since Callimachus does not say anything explicit about it, one need not pursue the identification any further. More important for our current discussion is the evidence of the Victoria Berenices. The myth of that elegy narrates the killing of the Nemean lion by Heracles. Clayman (2015: 25) calls attention to the convincing parallel present in both poems—the trope “defeat of the lion”.101 It may very well be that Cyrene’s famous exploit motivated the unprecedented decision to juxtapose Berenice, a female victor, with Heracles in the first place. In the Victoria Berenices, Callimachus associates Berenice’s victory with her role as Ptolemy’s consort. The same association operates in the Hymn to Apollo. Cyrene’s victory over the lion relates to her relationship with Apollo. This liaison is reflected in the first Carneia celebrated under the gaze of Apollo and Cyrene: the male Greek warriors dance in the midst of the Libyan women.102 The Greek colonists parallel Apollo, while the Libyan maidens Cyrene. Since this reflects the marital prospects of the Cyrenean youths performing Callimachus’s hymn, one sees here another way in which Ptolemy is smoothly made to enter the Cyrenean universe. The dynastic marriage of Berenice and Ptolemy, a marriage that unites the two realms, is seen as a reenactment of the Greek colonization of Libya. As in other Ptolemaic poems, the royal eros that cements the union of the king and queen is a model onto Ptolemy’s subjects.103 The dancing youths imitate through their dancing their ancestors, the colonists dancing with the Libyan women, as well as Apollo and Cyrene (i.e. Ptolemy and Berenice). In transitioning to adulthood and preparing for their marriages, they follow the example of their sovereign. This point is missing from Pythian 5, but is borrowed from Pindar’s Pythian 9, which offers Callimachus a useful discourse that combines erotic, colonial, and praise discourses. The Cyrenean youths parallel in their marital prospects Telesicrates, the victor of that ode. This imagery also offers the appropriate discourse for the praise of the Ptolemaic queen.

 101 In the Hymn to Apollo (92) Callimachus describes the lion as σίνιν. Callimachus uses a cognate noun (σίνται) in the Victoria Berenices (fr. 54c.29 Harder) for the mice that parallel the lion on a smaller scale. 102 F. Williams 1978: 76 ad loc. Williams also draws a parallel between the reception of Cyrene by Libya in Pind. Pyth. 9.55–56 and the reception of the Theran colonizers by the Libyan women in Callimachus’s hymn. 103 Gutzwiller 1992: 364–369; L. Rossi 2000: 301–312.

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The First Carneia: Reliving the Past The colonial prehistory of Cyrene in Pythian 5 traces the origins of the first inhabitants of Cyrene in two opposite directions (69–85): one in Thessaly under the reign of Aegimius and during the time of Heracles’s career; the other in Troy in the aftermath of the Trojan war. The Carneia becomes the vehicle through which Pindar pictures the harmonious commingling of the two communities. The festival connects the celebration of Pythian 5 with the early history of the victor’s country and mainland Doric traditions. This function of the Carneia is maintained also in Callimachus’s hymn. Pindar and Callimachus agree in tracing the prehistory of the populations that colonize Cyrene. Pindar’s account is by far the most detailed. Colonial history in Pythian 5 is anchored in two different aspects of Pindar’s praise discourse in this ode. The first concerns Apollo and his role both in establishing Cyrene and helping Arcesilaus secure the Pythian victory. The second aspect relates to the textual representation of the performative context for Pythian 5. The chorus refers to the traditional aspect of the Carneia in connection with their performance of the ode (80).104 The Carneia that contextualize the performance of Pythian 5 recreate earlier Carneia celebrations that commemorate the link existing between Apollo and Battus.105 The description of the Carneia festival is fraught with terms that recall symposia. By describing the Carneia as a symposium, Pindar refers to the usual performative space for epinician song, which comprises a symposium organized by the victor or his family.106 The Carneia is an ἔρανος πολύθυτος (77, “a banquet with many sacrifices”). Pindar uses the image of the banquet to unify the city around the royal victory and transcend temporal barriers. Maintaining the god’s festival is part of the traditions that the Cyrenean people have inherited from their ancestors going all the way back to Thessaly. In its timeless, transcendent essence the Carneia allows Pindar to telescope the history of the Cyrenean people from Arcesilaus’s times back to Aegimius. In celebrating the Carneia, the Cyreneans are reenacting traditions present in the Hellenic world since time immemorial. At the same time, though, the Carneia is the locus of transcultural integration that reenacts the birth of the city. In Pythian 9 and Pythian 4 Pindar alludes to the

 104 Cf. Lefkowitz 1976: 52–53; Currie 2005: 246. 105 Currie 2005: 248. 106 See discussion in Chapter 1 pp. 22–25.

280  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo existence of the indigenous populations with whom the colonists mixed. In Pythian 9, these are the Libyan women, for whose hand Telesicrates’s ancestor (Alexidamus) competed in a race (105–125).107 In Pythian 4, the indigenous population of Libya is represented by the local king Eurypylus. Neither of these traditions is reflected in Pythian 5. Instead Pindar refers to a colonization earlier than that of the Therans—that of the Trojan refugees.108 Pindar situates the descendants of Antenor in Cyrene along with Helen prior to the arrival of the Theran colonizers.109 Battus and his men receive the Antenorids with sacrifices (θυσίαισιν).110 These sacrifices converge with the sacrifices typical at the Carneia from early times in Sparta and Thera. Subsequently, sacrifices are the medium through which the communication and integration of local populations and Greek colonists is effected. The reception of the Antenorids by Battus is identified with the institution of the Carneia, adding Cyrene as a further stop in the itinerary of the expansion of the god’s cult. In addition, the reference to men in connection with Battus’ expedition (86, ἄνδρες … δωροφόροι) intimates sexual tension: the colonists are represented as Greek males and the indigenous population by contrast as females. With hindsight, the association of the Antenorids with Helen brings home to the audience the presence of women among the Libyans. Furthermore, the Hellenic identity of Helen recalls a structure typical of Greek colonial thought: the colonization of the foreign land is seen as a return to an old home or reclaiming something that is already Greek. In Pythian 4, this is the Libyan clod donated by the Libyan king to Euphemus; in Pythian 5, it is Helen, claimed not by Menelaus and Agamemnon’s army, but by Battus and his comrades. The colonization of Cyrene resembles the Trojan expedition as an act of aggression and appropriation of a foreign land.111 The Greek soldiers bring their military prowess, while the sometime Trojans but  107 For this aspect of colonial discourse in Pindar and Callimachus, see Dougherty 1993: 61– 80, 136–156 and Nicolai 1992 respectively. 108 The fall of Troy motivated a series of tribal moves that resulted in the founding of new colonies. For such traditions, see Malkin 1998. 109 For the Antenorids and their cultic significance, see Burton 1962: 144; Duchemin 1967: 161; Krummen 2014: 139–153. The tradition about the arrival of Antenor is preserved in the Nostoi of the late Hellenistic historian Lysimachus (FGrHist 382 F 6). Homer (Od. 4.85–86) and Herodotus (2.119) preserve the tradition about Helen and Menelaus’s flight to Libya from Egypt. 110 The syntax of lines 85–86 is contested. Following the Teubner edition of Snell and Maehler the nominative ἄνδρες … δωροφόροι, which refers to Battus’s followers (87–88), must be the grammatical subject of the verb δέκονται. Consequently, the neuter τὸ ἐλάσιππον ἔθνος must be the accusative object and refer to the Antenorids, as Krummen 2014: 142–146 suggests. Cf. Giannini 1995: 534–535 ad loc. 111 Dougherty 1993: 116.

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now Libyans their skills in chariot-driving. Both sets of attributes survive in Arcesilaus and his people. Finally, Apollo, once the patron god of the Trojans, is here associated with both sides, reflecting the role that the Carneia banquet has in establishing intercultural communication. In this way, Arcesilaus and his royal forebears are represented against the mythological past of the combination of two peoples. On the model of Pindar, Callimachus associates the expansion of the Hellenic population with the traditional character of the Carneia. In both cases, there is a description of the building activities in which Battus engages and a passing allusion to Cyrene: the circumlocutions Κυράνας … πόλιν (Pythian 5.81) and ἄστυ Κυρήνης (Hymn 2.73) that Pindar and Callimachus use respectively recall the role of the homonymous nymph in the foundation myth of Cyrene. In both cases, the allusion is found in the context of the description of the colonists’ ancestry. Unlike Pindar though, this early mention in Callimachus’s hymn prepares for the role Callimachus accords to the nymph in his description of the first Carneia. With regard to the building activity of Battus, there are noticeable differences between the Pindaric and Callimachean versions. Pindar references the ship that brought the Theran colonists to Libya (87). The Trojan context of the previous lines recalls the ships that brought the Achaeans to Troy. At line 88, Pindar complements the expression “the men who Aristotle (i.e. Battus) brought with the swift ship” with a participial phrase the juxtaposes the linear progress of Battus’s fleet with that of the Achaean expedition against Troy (88, “opening a path through the deep sea”). The concept of opening paths recalls the act of sowing, a prototypical metaphor for coitus and foundation.112 Immediately after this image, Pindar emphasizes the building of the temples of the gods and of the main road. Callimachus varies this structure in accordance with the demands of his discourse. No details are given regarding the building of Cyrene itself. Instead Callimachus discharges this part of the story summarily explaining that Battus (Aristotle) conquered the land. The focus falls on the building of Apollo’s temple and culminates with the altars established. The altars recreate the act of the god himself on Delos offering a formal parallel between the two cult centers. In addition, the altar functions as the focal point, the epicenter for the dance of the members of the chorus. Callimachus opts for a circular model that tallies with the various ring compositions that structure the hymn as well as with the cyclical repetition of Callimachus’s historical outlook.113 As the members of Callimachus’s chorus

 112 Dougherty 1993: 63. 113 See also Mullen’s 1982: 116 on ring composition, dancing, and time in Pindar’s odes.

282  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo dance around Apollo’s altar, we are invited to imagine the similar swirling movement of the chorus of colonists and, going a step further into the past, of the Delphians celebrating the first paean ever. Callimachus, like Pindar, employs the Carneia as the vehicle through which he transcends temporal and cultural barriers reenacting the birth of Cyrene. Pindar intimates a parallel between the founding of Cyrene and the arrival of the Greeks on the Trojan coast. Callimachus offers a variant picture, based however on the same principle. The choreia of Callimachus’s youths recalls that of the colonists and the Libyan women. As in Pindar, the Carneia enables the poet to telescope the history of the Cyrenean people from Sparta to Cyrene and recreate the birth of the colony through the intermarriage of Greeks and Libyans. However, Callimachus associates the Carneia not with a mortal enterprise such as the Trojan Expedition, but with Apollo’s defeat of the Pythian dragon. Thus in Callimachus’s version the founding of Cyrene assumes cosmic connotations as the reenactment of victories over agents of destruction be they the lion praying on Eurypylus’s sheep or the Pythian θήρ. This conceptualization is certainly foreign to the poetic outlook of Pythian 5, but is close to that of Pythian 1, which also celebrates the founding of a new colony, Aetna. There is a further element that Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo and Pythian 1 have in common. In both cases, the poet stresses the continuity of Doric traditions that survive into the colony and connect it with the ancestors.114 Apollo’s altars acquire metapoetic connotations as they help structure Callimachus’s hymn. Callimachus describes their creation by Apollo as an act of “weaving” (ὑφαίνω).115 The verb has very strong metapoetic connotations. The composition of the altar parallels the composition of poetry acknowledging Apollo’s role as patron of poets. The juxtaposition of Delian and Cyrenean altars suggest a history of sorts arranged on the principle of contingency and similarity. This triggers off the colonial narrative about Cyrene which concludes with the altars erected by Battus, forming a ring composition. Narrative continuity is, however, halted for five lines. Lines 80–84 herald a change in the direction of the poem and invite a closer look at Cyrenean Apollo. One can approach the effect of these lines in light of Mullen’s interpretation of epodes in Pindar’s ode.116 According to Mullen, epodes mark that the members of the chorus pause (“epodic ar-

 114 See, in particular, Pyth. 1.61–66 with K.A. Morgan’s (2015: 334–340) discussion. 115 Cf. F. Williams 1978: 56–57 ad loc., who however rejects the metapoetic significance of the verb in this context. 116 Mullen 1982: 91–92, 131–136.

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rest”) before they reassume their cyclical movement towards the opposite direction.117 Inevitably this pause carries significance also in terms of content so much so that performative and textual considerations overlap. Thus epodes emphatically call attention to a theme central to the discourse of the song. Lines 80–84 function along similar lines: narratorial continuity is stopped; the chorus does not continue the narrative but fixes on the altars and, using them as a starting point, changes topic, referencing early instances of Cyrenean choreia. As in Pythian 5, these lines allude to episodes of Cyrene’s colonial past, but the rhythm and style is different from the linearity of the narrative up to line 79. The linearity of the colonists’ journey from Thera to Cyrene is replaced by the circularity of the Greek and Libyan dancers. The two modes complement each other. By calling attention to the altars the members of the chorus connect their dance with the Delian altar and lock their ancestors in an endless time loop that will in the future include further generations. A further indication about the function of these lines as a quasi-lyric epode is provided by the paeanic cry that looks forward to the section on Apollo’s early victory. Earlier the hiē-cry was associated with a description of the chorus itself, an additional index of the cry’s self-referential quality. Here it marks a climactic moment in the discourse, calling upon Apollo to regard their dance as he did in the past with the Theran colonists. Ultimately, as lines 97 and 103 suggest, the invocation of Apollo juxtaposes this performance with Apollo’s defeat of the Pythian snake: every performance may thus be deemed as a reenactment of Apollo’s victory. Pindar consistently refers to the existence of a cultural stratum anterior to the arrival of the Greek colonists. Eurypylus (Pythian 4), the descendants of Antenor and Helen (Pythian 5), and even Libya herself (Pythian 9) stand in the place of the indigenous population with which the Theran colonists intermingle to create Cyrene. Callimachus reflects the erotic undertones permeating colonial discourse in a twofold manner: first, by the reference to the early performances of the Carneia; and second, by including a divine audience that comprises Apollo and his consort Cyrene. In so doing, Callimachus is building upon aspects he found in Pythian 5, but also in Pythian 9. The description of Apollo’s Cyrenean altars gives place to Apollo and Cyrene’s enjoyment of the first choral performance at Cyrene. Apollo’s joy looks

 117 It is very difficult and unnecessary to establish a triadic structure in Callimachus’s poem. Lord 1990: 60 suggests that Callimachus adopts the structural significance of the injection ἱὴ ἱὴ παιῆον for the articulation of his narrative of the pythoktonia. For an attempt at dividing Hymn 2 in stanzas, see Hunter 1996: 156.

284  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo back to the admonitions of Callimachus to the members of the chorus. The implication is that Apollo will rejoice again viewing a similar performance. Callimachus sets up an analogy between past and current choreias. As in Pindar’s Pythian 5, the Carneia performance is the conduit by means of which the poet transcends time limitations and converges the youths performing with their ancestors in a timeless place that brings them closer to Apollo and Cyrene. As a result of this, the performing youths lose parts of their individuality, while aspects of their civic role are by contrast strengthened. These civic aspects are conceptualized through the description of the first Cyreneans: they combine military and orchestic prowess; they bear the girdle of the goddess of war (85, Ἐνυοῦς ζωστῆρες). The dancing skills of the Cyrenean colonists encode Apollonian choreia in the space of civic ideology. The ideal Cyrenean citizen combines skills in fighting and dancing. As Deborah Boedeker (1974: 43–63) points out, choreia is the locus of sexual attraction.118 This aspect is implicitly acknowledged in Callimachus’s hymn through the presence of women: line 86 suggests that the Theran men are dancing in the midst of Libyan women. For Callimachus though, the choreia and the Carneia is not simply an Apollonian festival that helps the Cyreneans maintain aspects of their identity as Dorians; in its Cyrenean variety the Carneia acquires an archetypal aspect as the reenactment of the founding of Cyrene itself.119 The localization of the colonists’ chorus in the presence of indigenous women intimates the intermarriages between the Greek colonists and the Libyan women. In both these aspects, as we have already seen, Callimachean choreia imitates Pindar’s Pythian 5. In addition to Pythian 5, an important parallel for this mention of Libyan women can be found in Pythian 9. Pythian 9 celebrates a Cyrenean athlete who won the armed footrace. The success of the victor is repeatedly associated with his marital prospects. Both the myth selected (Apollo’s rape of Cyrene) as well as the stories from the chronicles of the family, reflect the combination of athletics and eros dominant in the praise discourse of this ode. Lines 97–103 show the effect that the attractive Telesicrates has on the female viewers. Women’s appreciation of his prowess is cast in terms of his suitability as a prospective groom or son-in-law. In this aspect Pindar sees the working of heredity, bringing as an example one of Telesicrates’s ancestors, Alexidamus. There is some confusion regarding the details of the story.120 It is certain that the Libyan Antaeus organized  118 Kurke 2012: 226–227. 119 As Cheshire (2005: 343) explains, the foundation of Cyrene is Apollo’s reciprocation of the choral performance of the mythological Cyrenaean chorus. 120 Giannini 1995: 616–617 ad loc.

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an athletic competition in order to marry his daughter. Depending on the punctuation of line 106, Alexidamus competed either for the hand of Antaeus’s daughter, Irasa, against a host of Cyreneans and foreigners,121 or for an unnamed Libyan maiden at Irasa, the city of Antaeus.122 The historicity of Antaeus is dubious. The name is that of Heracles’s Libyan opponent, and it could be that the family tradition that Pindar records combines mythological and historical information.123 The possibility of a mythological background is also suggested by the detail Pindar adds that the idea to organize such an athletic competition occurred to Antaeus after hearing about the way in which Danaus married his own daughters. If Antaeus is to be identified with Heracles’s opponent, the version of Pythian 9 ought to be seen as a variant of the same mythological deep structure:124 that is, both myths narrate the defeat of an indigenous king by a Greek colonizer (Heracles and Alexidamus respectively). The myth of Heracles’s defeat of Antaeus in wrestling reflects the conceptualization of Greek colonization as an acculturative process. The marriage of Alexidamus to the Libyan maiden looks back to the sexual metaphors employed in founding stories. As Carol Dougherty (1993: 65) notes, “the Greek concept of marriage is an ambiguous amalgamation predicated upon the realization that this particular union of opposites (male and female) is both a civilized and a violent act.” In this light, Alexidamus’s desire is structurally analogous to Heracles’s violence. Furthermore, the juxtaposition of Antaeus and his daughter with Danaus and the Danaids reflects the association of this Argive king with Hellenic colonial expansion. The importance of this story for Callimachus consists in the employment of a Greek custom, athletic competition, as a metaphor for intermarriage between Greek colonists and Libyan women. This is a theme that Callimachus reflects in his depiction of the first Carneia. Furthermore, Pythian 9 offers Callimachus two important elements: the juxtaposition of mortal and divine couples; and the emphasis on the idea of an embedded audience. The couple of the unnamed Libyan maiden and Alexidamus reflects the central couple that is Apollo and Cyrene. Cyrene oscillates between the personified nymph of the land and the land itself, so much so that her rape by Apollo functions as a metaphor for the colonization of Northern Africa by the Greeks. Intriguingly, Pindar does not refer to violence or rape. The theogamia is

 121 Carey 1981: 99–100; Instone 1996: 139–140; ad loc. 122 Σ on 185a; Duchemin 1967: 83–84 ad loc. 123 Angeli Bernardini 1989: 58–63. The ancient scholia (185a–d) waver between identifying Antaeus with Heracles’s opponent or with a later namesake. 124 Magrath 1977.

286  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo nonetheless represented as a taming of a nymph that is aberrant in her ways.125 The story of Alexidamus reflects the combination of the same set of values exemplified in an archetypal fashion in the story of Cyrene: he stands for Greek/male while his consort for Libyan/female. Attributing the active role to the male characters, Pindar indicates the changes that Cyrene undergoes from an active agent into a passive one. Yet Cyrene is the role model for the prowess of the Cyrenean victor. It is during one of her exploits that Apollo is attracted to her: Cyrene fights and defeats a lion. Hermann Fränkel (1975: 445–446) noted with regard to this peculiar image that Pindar’s representation of Cyrene stresses her masculine traits. In a way Cyrene looks like a young man, and the relationship between Apollo and her looks more like a homoerotic one. Such a point of view would tally nicely with the homoerotic tincture of Pindar’s praise of young victors. Apollo’s amazement prefigures the appreciation of Telesicrates by the women of the audience. Again an act of Apollo assumes archetypal significance. Along similar lines Callimachus constructs the analogy between what happens on the mortal and immortal planes. The combination of the Theran dancers with the blonde Libyan women reflects the divine couple Apollo and Cyrene. The transition from the mortal to the immortal level has also a structural function in that it prepares for the conclusion of the poem. The hymn opens with the prospect of Apollo’s imminent arrival; it concludes with the god being present. Apollo’s presence at the past ceremony reflects his presence at the one currently performed. The description of Apollo’s victory over the Pythian dragon casts the choreia as an imitative reenactment of that event. The metapoetic epilogue carries the associations to a personal, metapoetic level.

Cyrene and Apollo The precise localization of the past chorus prepares for the mention of Apollo’s bride. In Pythian 9, geographical details appear only in connection with the marriage games in which Alexidamus participates. Callimachus reflects this tendency. The progressive specification of the setting places the focus on the erotic aspect of the choreia. The colonists and the Libyan women dance near the spring Cyre in the forest of Azilis. Callimachus combines two distinct traditions regard-

 125 Dougherty 1993: 143.

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ing the etymology of Cyrene: one concerns the nymph of the same name; the second the spring in the vicinity of the town which was named after it.126 The combination of both of them reflects the important role that springs play in Callimachus’s colonial mythology.127 Cyrene may be a stranger that is brought to Libya under the guidance of Apollo—exactly like the Greek colonists. Still, her links with the landscape are fixed, and this fixity is translated in the spring that shares the nymph’s name. In a way, the locale in which the choreia takes place is the abode of Cyrene the nymph. Apollo views this dance and points it out to his consort Cyrene. In Pythian 9, Apollo appreciates the exploit of Cyrene; here Apollo appreciates the mortal choreia jointly with Cyrene. As in Pythian 9, the two levels stand in apposition to each other, pinpointing various analogies between mortal and immortal agents. The first, and rather obvious, analogy concerns Apollo and the colonists (Greek/male/colonial forces as in Pythian 9) and Cyrene and the Libyan women (Libyan/female/indigenous forces). However, following a discourse inherent in Pythian 9, Callimachus problematizes this pattern of parallels through Cyrene’s ambiguous status. In her capacity as an active agent, Cyrene also parallels the Greek warriors. Prior to her wedding to Apollo in Pythian 9, Cyrene serves as the foil or model for the victorious Telesicrates. Along similar lines in Callimachus’s hymn, Cyrene stands in analogy to the Greek dancers. The Greek men are depicted in a light that throws into relief their prowess in war. Callimachus recalls Cyrene’s manly courage as the slayer of the lion that was pestering the local king Eurypylus. Cyrene partakes of both worlds, and this image is a peculiarly Pindaric one. Seen from this angle, the colonial function of the Dorians is mirrored not only in Apollo but also in Cyrene herself. Cyrene preserves male aspects even after her rape by Apollo. Callimachus acknowledges the previous tradition—note ἀρπακτύς at line 95128—but varies it nonetheless. The lion is a force indigenous to Cyrene, which the Thessalian nymph can subdue, rendering the locale inhabitable for the Greeks. This realignment of the parallels between mortal and immortal characters bestows on the choreia of the colonists an aspect that paves the way for the eventual description of Apollo’s victory. The scene imitates lines 105–125 in Pythian 9 in other aspects as well. The designation of the Cyrenean dancers as Dorian not only suggests a period prior

 126 F. Williams 1978: 77 ad loc. 127 Depew 2007. 128 F. Williams 1978: 79 ad loc.; Lord 1990: 43.

288  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo to the actual naming of their new homeland as Cyrene, it also brings into the picture their ancestors. The link between Telesicrates and Alexidamus is one of ancestry. “Fame” (105, δόξα) enables the juxtaposition of the two temporal levels. Similarly in Callimachus the Dorian colonists are linked to Thessaly, Cyrene’s homeland, and replicate the nymph’s fame. Another element both poems have in common is the reference to an indigenous Libyan king: Antaeus in Pythian 9; Eurypylus in Callimachus’s hymn. Alexidamus is victorious in a competition that involves heroes from all over the world. Cyrene demonstrates her prowess in assisting a local king. The sight of the first Cyrenean choreia is described as θειότερον, as “the most divine” sight Apollo has ever gazed upon (93).129 The same adjective is applied in the Hymn to Artemis to the statue (238, βρέτας) of Artemis in Ephesus. The commonality in the designation of the mortal choreia and Artemis’s statue underlines their common cultic function as epiphanic manifestations of the god celebrated in either hymn.130 Statues can operate as divine manifestation in the ritual framework—cf. the status of Athena in the fifth Hymn or even the chest with Demeter’s ἱερά in the sixth Hymn. Similarly the choreia in this hymn is a manifestation of Apollo’s divinity.131 Apollo’s presence as a viewer of the original choreia suggests that Callimachus hopes for this archetypal scene to be repeated now with the dance of the Cyrenean youths. The signs of the god’s imminent approach in the opening lines of the hymn support this reading. In other words, the choreia occasions, motivates even, the appearance of Apollo. Lines 65–96 describe the founding of Cyrene and at the same time lay the foundation of the special relationship that the Battiads have with Apollo. At the conclusion of the section, the poet remarks that it is on account of his consort Cyrene that Apollo has lavished so many boons upon the people of Cyrene. Recognizing the benefactions of the god towards themselves, the descendants of Battus have honored Apollo above any other god. Line 97 marks a change in the direction of the poem. Callimachus includes once again the paeanic cry hiē. In all three occurrences in the hymn, this cry performs a structural function that imitates the refrain of archaic songs. At line 25, the paean cry initiates a small section comprising lines 25–31, which center on the maxim of not competing against the gods. The gnome is traditional in its content and operates as a node facilitating transition between two parts of the poem. On the one hand, it summarizes the

 129 Cf. F. Williams 1978: 80 ad loc. noting the allusion to the Homeric Hymn to Apollo 151. 130 For this aspect of choreia, see Kurke 2012. 131 This aspect of Callimachus’s coneptualization of choreia is manifest also in fr. 227.1 Pf. “Apollo is present in the chorus” (Ἔνεστ’ Ἀπόλλων τῷ χορῷ).

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import of the myths just alluded to (i.e. Thetis; Niobe); on the other hand, it turns attention to the chorus and elaborates on the relationship between the chorus members and the god as well as his earthly avatar, the king. The conduct of the Cyrenean youths contrasts strongly with that of either Thetis and Niobe. The praise that the chorus bestows upon Apollo frightens the two women into silence, reminding them of their hubris. From this, Callimachus proceeds to the actual praise of the god, thus concluding the first section (1–31) which dwells on the advent of the god, the performance, and the societal role of the choreia. In its second occurrence the hiē cry halts the Cyrenean narrative calling attention to the central image of Apollo’s altar. The altar unifies the central section: it recalls the Delian altar built jointly by Artemis and Apollo; but it also prepares for the choreia of the Dorian colonists with the Libyan women. The collaboration of male and female agents is central to this section. Artemis and Apollo work together in lines 55–64. Their collaboration leads to the founding of the Delian altar. In the Cyrenean section the archetypal combination of Apollo and Artemis is reflected by the colonists and the indigenous women but more prominently by Apollo and Cyrene. The two levels demonstrate the building of Cyrene, conceptualized through the momentous erection of Apollo’s altar there. This part too comes to an end with the paeanic cry, which again signposts a new move in the poem. The final section comprises the story about the derivation of the cry itself and the metapoetic epilogue. Callimachus goes to some lengths to vary the ways in which he refers to the paeanic cry. First, the cry hiē hiē is the object of the imperative φθέγγεσθε. Some lines before this at 21, we find “whenever she (sc. Thetis) hears (ἀκούσῃ) hiē paiēon hiē paiēon.” At line 80, hiē hiē is combined with an address to the god in the vocative. Finally, at 97 hiē hiē is the object of a verb in the first person plural indicative (“we hear,” ἀκούομεν). Some lines later, Callimachus reports the exclamations of the Delphic onlookers celebrating the victory of the young Apollo: “hiē hiē paiēon, shoot (ἵει) your arrow.” This last mention intimates the etymology of both hiē and paiēon. Callimachus derives hiē from the verb to shoot (ἵημι), while paiēon reflects either παίω (“to hit”) or even παῖς (“child”) alluding to Apollo’s age at the time.132 In addition to the scholarly quality of these remarks, the repetitions suggest a juxtaposition that influences the representation of the choreia and the poet himself.

 132 F. Williams 1978: 85 ad loc. The chorus shouts “hiei, hiei, pai, ion” “shoot, shoot, child, your arrow.” The paretymological connection between the exclamation ἱή and the verb ἵημι reflects a similar connection in Pindar’s Paean 6 (fr. 25f.121–22 Sn.-M. = D6.121–22 Rutherford); cf. Lord 1990: 59.

290  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo The imperatives φθέγγεσθε (25) and ἵει (103) place the two respective addresses on parallel footing: the Cyrenean youths through their dancing reenact the archetypal act of Apollo (i.e. the defeat of the Delphian dragon). Callimachus does not elaborate on the actual dance of either the Cyrenean youths or of their ancestors the Dorian colonists. In view of the analogy with both Cyrene’s defeat of the lion and of Apollo’s killing of the snake, one may postulate a mimetic dance that reenacts such victories of divine figures over powers of chaos and destruction.133 Viewing the Cyrenean choreia in this manner facilitates the transition from one part of the poem to the next. The vocatival addresses at lines 80 and 103 indicate that the connection between the Cyrenean youths and Apollo is mediated through the story about the altars of Cyrene and the description of the first Carneia. From this point of view, this juxtaposition calls attention to the fact that Apollo’s defeat of the Pythian dragon prefaces the founding of the Delphic oracle, the same oracle which played a pivotal role in the expedition that led Battus to Cyrene. Callimachus varies through this the structure of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. The Homeric hymn demonstrates a bipartite structure, comprising a Delian and a Pythian section. Callimachus acknowledges this peculiarity of the Homeric intertext. In the framework that the two sections form (Delian: 55–64; Pythian: 97–104), Callimachus embeds the Cyrenean section that surpasses in extent both others. All three foundations of Apollo’s shrines are associated with killings. At Delos, Artemis kills the animals that offer the material out of which the altar is created. The Cyreneans sacrifice bulls to the god; however, Callimachus associates the early Carneia, before the founding of the actual city, with the killing of a lion by Cyrene. The sequence culminates with Apollo’s killing of the Pythian snake. A series of parallel frames is thus created: Apollo kills Python and is witnessed by a Delphian audience; Cyrene kills the lion and is witnessed by Apollo himself; the colonists and the Libyan women dance (imitating both Apollo and Cyrene) and are witnessed by Apollo and Cyrene; finally, the Cyrenean youths dance imitating all three previous frames and are witnessed by the Cyrenean audience (and us as readers) but also by Apollo who is present through the epiphany described. On this basis, the Cyrenean choreia not only reenacts the killing of Python; it also reenacts the founding of the cult of Apollo, and ultimately of Cyrene. A final lexical detail that merits comment concerns the combination of the interjection hiē and ἀκούω. This contrasts the two women of lines 20–24 with Cal-

 133 Duchemine (1955: 80–88) and Mullen (1982: 58–65) have emphasized the mimetic quality of choral performances with regard to Pindar’s odes.

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limachus and his audience at 97. Both balance around the center that is the imperative φθέγγεσθε. Apart from the ring composition that effectively prepares for the conclusion of the hymn, this intratextual reference casts Callimachus in the role of Apollo’s devotee as the Delphian audience. The personal tone that is struck by the first person plural prepares for the scholarly considerations that permeate the epilogue.

The Epilogue Along with the Aetia prologue, the epilogue of Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo is the best-known piece of Callimachean poetry. It is often quoted as offering a succinct description of Callimachus’s poetics. Although one should not discredit or devalue such readings of the epilogue, the content of the epilogue should be seen first and foremost in the context of the hymn, which can account for several of its peculiarities.134 The following discussion focuses exclusively on the links of the epilogue to the rest of the poem and how these links can help us best appreciate the content of lines 105–113. It also examines the message that the epilogue conveys in light of the Pindaric influence on this hymn.135 The last eight lines of the hymn offer a scene that has little in common with the founding stories of Apollo’s three cult centers. The personified Envy (105, Φθόνος) is suddenly introduced. Secretly, he sits near Apollo and whispers in his ear that he hates the poet who does not sing as much as the sea (πόντος) contains. Apollo kicks Envy and retorts that the Assyrian river also carries a lot of dirt. Apollo prefers the practice of Demeter’s bees which cull small drops of water from pure, inaccessible springs. Before we discuss the metapoetic content of this scene, let us try to contextualize it in the context of the poem. We saw above that the first section of the hymn has a rather technical, introductory function. In the first thirty-two lines, Callimachus lists the signs that betray the epiphanic advent of Apollo. Against this background, Callimachus situates himself and the chorus of Cyrenean youths, elaborating on the religious and symbolic import of the choreia he is leading. The following lines contain the praise proper of the god, combining a series of episodes from narratives about Apollo: the myth of Admetus; the Delian altar; the founding of Cyrene; the killing of the Pythian snake. As the Cyrenean youths perform,

 134 The connection of the epilogue with the main body of the hymn has not always been felt to be close: see, for instance, Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 2, 82; Bundy 1972: 42. 135 See also Bundy 1972; Poliakoff 1980; Köhnken 1981; Lord: 1990: 100–117; Fuhrer 1992: 258– 261.

292  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo the audience—and alongside it we as readers—are led through different temporal planes. The choreia recreates events of archetypal significance that repeat schematically the founding of Cyrene and reestablish Apollo’s cult. Despite the signs of Apollo’s imminent approach in the opening lines of the hymn, the actual epiphany is never described. Callimachus does not need to. The juxtaposition of the mythological episodes suggests by virtue of the analogies themselves that the choreia occasions the divine presence. The utterance of the ritual cry hiē paiēon at line 97 marks the presence of the god.136 The concentric cycles of mythological scenes lead to the principal exploit of Apollo, which is the defeat of Python. After this scene is concluded, Apollo is as good as present. It is along such lines that we can connect the epilogue to the rest of the poem. Apollo has manifested himself, and he can now claim center stage.137 One difficulty of this epiphanic presence is that Apollo does not appear to react to the choreia but rather to the god of Envy. However, this is not actually true. As has been pointed out, this scene elaborates on a motif that we often find at the end of hymns. It is common for the praise poet to point out his inability to do right by the god on account of the god’s being πολύυμνος: there are too many songs about the god for the mortal poet to be able to exhaust his topic.138 In essence, this excuse is a hymnic version of a recusatio addressed to both the god himself and the audience. The poet apologizes for his mortal inability.139 The parallel furnished by the Aetia prologue supports this reading. In the prologue, Apollo manifests himself to the poet when he first started composing. Here the epiphany of the god coincides with the performance of a hymn in the god’s honor. This is not simply a personal matter that concerns Callimachus solely. It is a public issue that concerns, and has a bearing on, the relationship of Apollo with Cyrene. The parallel with the Aetia prologue is important because it indicates the religious side of Callimachean poetic imagery. This is an aspect that

 136 Erbse 1975: 291. 137 Erbse 1975: 281–282 suggests that the epiphany of Apollo happens through Callimachus’s mythological narrative (286: “die Erzählung als Medium der Epiphanie”); similarly also Meillier 1979: 83–84. Bing 1993: 186 identifies the hymn as the actual sacrament, which thus enables Callimachus to draw his readers into the fictional world of his hymn. For a similar process in Callimachus’s fifth Hymn, see Erbse 1975: 282–286. See also Cheshire 2005: 346–347; Petrovic 2007: 127; Fantuzzi 2011: 437. 138 For Callimachus’s rendition of hymnic and lyric break-off formulae, see Bundy 1972; Köhnken 1981: 421; Lord 1990: 92–100; Ukleja 2005: 40–45; D’Alessio 2007: vol. 1, 95n36; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 135. 139 In the context of the textualized performance, however, the epilogue also refers to the chorus members themselves; see Cheshire 2008.

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Callimachus shares with Pindar. Whatever Pindar or Callimachus thought about religion in their private lives, their poetry associates metapoetic utterances with religious, symbolic structures. Accordingly, their metapoetic statements are invested with the authority of divine approval.140 Following the poetics advocated by either Callimachus or Pindar is a textual means to partake in the blissfulness that is the epiphany of Apollo. Specifically in the case of the Hymn to Apollo, the archetypal struggle between Apollo and an agent of disruption or chaos is carried over to the level of poetry. Callimachus has meticulously prepared for his move. Earlier in the poem he contrasted himself and the chorus with Niobe and Thetis, who are the adversaries of the god. Here Phthonos and Momos perform the function of the god’s opponents and are defeated by the god himself in the same way in which he defeated Python.141 In its function as a recusatio, the content of these lines is inevitably self-referential and metapoetic. The links to the Aetia prologue suggest that both passages are part of a uniform poetic outlook. However, this does not necessarily mean that Callimachus is attacking an actual poetic adversary who had voiced his critique of the hymn prior to the actual performance; nor that Callimachus is attacking someone who had slandered a previous composition of his. In either case, no evidence is available at hand. The association of these lines with Apollonius or other Hellenistic poets is quite likely the nefarious result of biographical readings, a tendency popular among scholarly circles at the time. The parallel with Pindar can help situate these lines better in the hymn as a unified whole.142 Pindar often calls attention to his role and skill. Sometimes he expresses the wish that he may sing a future victory of the laudandus. In other cases, as for instance in Olympian 2, he extols himself by comparing himself with other unnamed competitors. These lines contain several structural and thematic elements that can help us contextualize Callimachus’s discourse.143 Pindar applies the aristocratic apparatus he uses to celebrate his victors to himself.144 His superiority lies

 140 For the ritual underpinning of Callimachus’s programmatic statements both in the Aetia prologue and here, see Petrovic 2012: 297. 141 Erbse 1975: 293; Koster 1983: 18–19; Bassi 1989: 227; Calame 1993: 50. Elaborating on the connection of the epilogue with the rest of the hymn, Bassi (1989: 222) parallels the rejection of Blame and Envy with that that of the ἀλιτροί in the opening section. For the ritual background of such exclusions, see Petrovic 2012: 292–297; for the political relevance of these lines as a criticism of Seleukid attempts to appropriate Apollo as royal god, see Brumbaugh 2016: 87–91. 142 See Bundy 1972, particularly pages 39–45 for biographical fallacies. 143 Bundy 1972: 88–91 emphasizes the importance of Ol. 2.105–110 for a proper understanding of the hymn’s epilogue. 144 Catenacci 2013: 410 on 86–88.

294  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo in his inherent knowledge of many things (85, “skilled is the man who knows many things by nature,” σοφὸς ὁ πολλὰ εἰδὼς φυᾷ). The contrast with lesser poets suggests that the Pindaric poet is also able to exercise discrimination, making an appropriate selection from the available material to suit the circumstances— the καιρός as he says in Pythian 1 (81).145 By contrast, poets who possess their knowledge through learning (86, μαθόντες) resemble garrulous ravens: they are intemperate in the use of their material, with the result that their discourse is ineffective in comparison to that of Pindar (represented here as an eagle): […] λάβροι παγγλωσσίᾳ κόρακες ὣς ἄκραντα γαρυέτων Διὸς πρὸς ὄρνιχα θεῖον

(86)

let them sing ineffectively like ravens babbling intemperately in comparison to the bird of Zeus

The scholia illuminate this passage by positing polemical references to either Simonides or Bacchylides.146 There is no clear proof as to the validity of this reading.147 The significance of the lines for the understanding of the epilogue of Callimachus’s Hymn 2 lies in the numerous parallels they offer. To be more specific, in the lines immediately preceding the ones just quoted, Pindar breaks off the mythological catalogue of heroes resident on the Isles of the Blessed using a metapoetic statement.148 This Abbruchsformel parallels the metapoetic quality of Callimachus’s epilogue that also puts a stop to the mythological catalogue of Apollo’s attributes. In addition to this structural analogy between the two texts, the Apollonian quality of Pindar’s lines brings them quite close to Callimachus’s imagery. In particular, Pindar claims that he has many arrows that have a meaning for those understanding (85, συνετοῖσιν). As for the populace (85, ἐς δὲ τὸ πᾶν), they need an interpreter.149 There are several elements that Callimachus borrows for his poem. First of all, the reference to the poet’s swift arrows (83) evokes the arrows of Apollo and the divine provenance of Pindar’s poetry.150 We have already seen that Callimachus references Apollo’s double quality as an archer and poet (43–44). Also, the epilogue of Hymn 2 is preceded by a mythological  145 Lehnus 1981: 50–51 on 83–86. 146 Σ ad 154b–158d. 147 Willcock 1995: 162–163; Catenacci 2013: 410–411 ad loc. See, however, Ferrari 1998: 99n45. 148 Willcock 1995: 161; Catenacci 2013: 408 on 83–86. 149 The interpretation of ἐς δὲ τὸ πᾶν is contested (cf. Lehnus 1981: 51; Willcock 1995: 161–162). I follow here the interpretation of Ferrari 1998: 99n44 and Catenacci 2013: 408–409 ad loc. 150 Lehnus 1981: 50–51 on lines 83–86; Sigelman 2016: 46.

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scene in which Apollo defeats his enemy using his arrows (99–104). The association of Pindar with Apollo casts all other poets as enemies of the god, an indication further strenghtened by associating solely Pindar with Zeus through the circumlocution Διὸς ὄρνιχα (87). More importantly, Pindar effects a separation between men with understanding and those who do not. In addition to the distinction between good and bad poets, this pair has ethical and religious connotations as Willcock (1995: 161 ad loc.) and Catenacci (2013: 409 ad 85) have pointed out. Indeed such a distinction offers a pertinent model for the poetics of exclusion in Callimachus’s hymn. This metapoetic statement prepares for the closing of the poem. In this function, it offers the strongest parallel to Callimachus. Lines 89–100 that follow recapitulate the praise of Theron, adding the dangers that lurk if the poet exceeds the limit (95–97). Excess (κόρος) would give the opportunity to envious men to try and hide Theron’s good deeds. This would compromise the effectiveness of the Pindaric discourse. A further Apollonine echo lies at line 98: Theron’s good deeds are like the grains of sand in number. “Who could sing of them?” asks Pindar: no one but Apollo. The phrasing recalls Chiron’s description of Apollo’s infinite knowledge (Pythian 9.46–48).151 Callimachus’s apology seems quite close to the poetics of Pindar. Not only is his stance validated by the approval of Apollo, it is also Apollo himself who endorses it. Pindar’s lines reveal a pattern of thought that could easily be applied to the poetry of Callimachus. In an oral society, as was the one in which Pindar was composing, the poet can prove his worth or intimate his superiority by representing himself as a victor over possible rivals.152 This discourse sustains the analogy between the praise poet and the laudandus. It is also worth noting that these passages are not metapoetic asides exterior to the victory song. On the contrary, they are proclaimed by the members of the chorus and form part of the victory song. The worth of the poet reflects positively on the victor and his family and vice versa. Callimachus follows this technique. He includes a passage that self-referentially reflects his poetic skill. Unlike Pindar though, Callimachus does not posit one rival. He constructs the rivalry in absolute terms. Callimachus’s opponent is the god of Envy himself. The victor is not Callimachus, but Apollo. In light of this cosmic dimension of the utterance, one may paraphrase Callimachus along the

 151 An oracle from Delphi reported by Herodotus (1.47.3: “I know the number of the grains of the sand and the extent of the sea;” οἶδα δ’ ἐγὼ ψάμμου τ’ ἀριθμὸν καὶ μέτρα θαλάσσης) could suggest that the idea is formulaic. Cf. Mackie 2003: 83. 152 Ong 2012: 43–45; Spelman 2018: 239. For the hymn’s oral quality, see Bundy 1972: 87.

296  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo following lines: may whoever fights Callimachus fight Apollo. The parallel with the similar statement earlier in the poem is striking once put like this. Callimachus and Ptolemy are analogous to each other in terms of their relationship to Apollo, the patron of kings and poets.153 This too would be a Callimachean rendition of Pindar’s analogy of himself with the laudandus. In Olympian 2 discussed above, Pindar and Theron are συνετοί by nature and thus contrast the μαθόντες. Envy and Slander do not have a biographical or historical value. Rather they call attention to Callimachus’s innovative technique. Through them Callimachus emphasizes the Pindaric style of his homericizing hymn. The Pindaric provenance of the poetic symbols these lines contain support this reading. Perfunctory allusions, transitions from one myth to the other are typical of Pindar’s style. Pindar prides himself on the ability to adjust his discourse to the right moment, the καιρός. In Pythian 1, Pindar proclaims: “If you speak timely, bringing together the strands of many themes into a brief compass, less blame follows from men” (81– 82).154 πολλῶν πείρατα would be an apt description of Callimachus’s catalogue of myths in this poem. Indeed, Callimachus applies the Pindaric tenet in the structure of a Homeric hymn. The scene of the bees mirrors the pluralism of Callimachus’s songs and their divine origins.155 One may further see an echo of Pindar’s comparison of himself with a bee in Pythian 10 (53–54) “the best song of praise | flits from one subject to the other like a bee” (ἐγκωμίων γὰρ ἄωτος ὕμνων | ἐπ’ ἄλλοτ’ ἄλλον ὥτε μέλισσα θύνει λόγον). The connection between Callimachus and Pindar is obscured by the difference in style. While Pindar as a rule prefers the first person singular, Callimachus in these lines opts for the third-person objective style typical of archaic epic. The final line brings home that Callimachus does not take any personal interest in the previous lines; rather he delivers them objectively as if they were part of the traditional material at his disposal. For all intents and purposes, the epilogue is no different than the other mythological snapshots Callimachus includes in this poem. Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo is a poetic experiment in the combination of the Homeric format with the Pindaric mode and style. And this is reflected not only in the difference in the person selected but also in the content of Apollo’s discourse.

 153 For Callimachus’s special relation with Apollo, see Koster 1983: 18–20; Bassi 1989: 226–227; Cheshire 2005: 347. As Bassi points out, Apollo’s favor includes also his homeland of Cyrene. 154 Blame inevitably follows in one way or another. For the sentiment, see Theognis 795–798. 155 In addition to this, the bee symbolizes the civilizing aspect of Apollo, a theme central to the depiction of the god; cf. Calame 1993: 52.

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The Assyrian river could well be Homer or more specifically the Homeric Hymn to Apollo.156 If that is the case, Callimachus compares the mode he has followed in this hymn with the Homeric equivalent: instead of one single exhaustive narrative a selection of short episodes, which does better justice to Apollo’s πολύυμνος quality than the Homeric hymn’s narrative. In his accusation against the poet, Envy refers to the πόντος. Earlier at line 18, Callimachus references the reaction of the πόντος to the songs of praise that the bards address to Apollo. The connection is significant in that it demonstrates the ineffectiveness of Envy’s criticism. Callimachus has offered a praise of Apollo’s lyre and arrows. Envy misreads the poem in that he fails to comprehend the point about the πόντος as representative in its expansiveness of the physical world, rather than as a symbol of quantity. Jealousy blinds Envy in his reading. Pindar often points to the inability of people to understand his poetry. It is usually envy that occasions such failings. The message and the rhetoric is influenced by Pindar.

Conclusion Pindaric influence is central to the appreciation of Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo. The major intertexts are Pindar’s Cyrenean odes—Pythian 4, 5, and 9. Pythian 4 contributes the influence of the Delphic oracle on the expedition that brings Battus from Thera to Cyrene. The mention of Eurypylus probably also reflects the role that this king plays in the mythological narrative of Pythian 4. Pythian 5 is significant in the articulation of the mythological material that Callimachus combines. The catalogue of Apollo’s attributes, the colonial prehistory, the first moments of the nascent Cyrenean nation, these are all episodes that Callimachus borrows from Pythian 5. Following a technique he found fully-fledged in this Pindaric ode, Callimachus represents the founding of Cyrene as a continuation of the founding of Delos and Delphi. Pindar associates Cyrene with the Dorian colonization of the Peloponnese and the Trojan War.157 The mention of Helen parallels the inclusion

 156 Stephens 2015a: 73. The exact symbolism of the sea and the Assyrian river has generated considerable discussion. It is remarkable that Apollo replaces the sea with the Assyrian river not mentioned by Envy. Erbse (1975: 294–295) suggests that the sea symbolizes purity on account of its cathartic function. Thus Apollo recalibrates the contrast by replacing the sea with the Assyrian river, directing attention at the same time to its filthy water. As Köhnken (1981: 471) explains, Apollo points out the flaw in Envy’s exclusively quantitive argument, adding a qualitative dimension. Thus Callimachus’s poetry does not prioritize only attention to fine details but also purity instead of sheer size: cf. Bundy 1972: 48–49, 92–93; Cameron 1995: 406. 157 Dougherty 1993: 115–116.

298  Textualizing Cyrenean Choreia in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo of Cyrene, whose story complements that of Battus.158 The prominent role that Cyrene and the Libyan women have in Callimachus’s hymn quite likely reflects the prominence of Berenice II, hiding behind the mythological character of Cyrene. The erotic aspects that permeate Cyrenean colonial history as well as the juxtaposition of temporal planes and the importance given to embedded audiences points to the influence of Pythian 9. Apart from Pindar’s Cyrenean odes, Callimachus returns to Pythian 1 in order to depict the influence that Apollonian music has upon the universe. The biggest contribution of Pindaric poetry to the discourse of the hymn pertains to the image of choreia and the metapoetic discourse that is thoroughly Pindaric. Apollo’s role in colonial expansion goes hand in hand with his role as patron of poetry.

 158 The myths of Cyrene and Battus are structural doublets: cf. Doughtery 1993: 147–148.

Chapter 8 Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos Introduction The Hymn to Delos opens with a question addressed to the poet’s θυμός (1–2). Such addresses are common in lyric poetry particularly in Archilochus (fr. 128 W2), the elegies of Theognis (e.g. 213, 695), and Pindar.1 Its use in this context bestows a lyric touch on the opening of the hymn. In addition, the personal tone struck by such an opening may suggest that unlike the Hymn to Apollo the Hymn to Delos is not envisioned as being chorally performed, but rather as a monody.2 Nonetheless, it will be argued below that choreia and performative discourse play a prominent role in this hymn as well as in Callimachus’s mimetic hymns. One way in which Callimachus communicates Delos’s special position is through his representation of her as chorus leader (χορηγός) of major Mediterranean islands or the Cyclades as well as in drawing a sharp contrast between her friendly attitude towards Leto and that of other Greek locations. Eventually, Delos’s deportment throughout the mythological part of this hymn stands as an archetypal model for the θεωρίαι and choruses celebrating Apollo in historic times. An analogy between divine or mythological and historical choreia thus emerges. Callimachus’s hymn serves as the conduit that enables readers to sense the presence of divine choreia through the enjoyment of its mortal imitations. Although the discourse is similar to that in Hymn 2, there is no clear indication about the existence of a performing chorus. One assumes that the speaking voice addresses Delos in the manner of the Homeric bard or a lyric monodist. Still, nothing excludes the possibility of a plural speaking person in the tradition of choral lyric. Although there is no reason to assume that a chorus of any sort is involved in this hymn, such vocatival addresses to one’s soul are quite common in Pindar’s odes.3 In all examples in which the vocative θυμέ is used by poets before Pindar,

 1 Mineur 1984: 49–50; Gigante Lanzara 1990: 69; Stephens 2015a: 179 ad loc. For the motif, see Adrados 2010: 183n2. 2 Hardie 2016: 123–124 puts forward the suggestion that the various theoric journeys in the final section of the hymn imply that Callimachus is experimenting with processional songs. 3 Cahen 1930: 155 ad vv.1–10, 156 ad 1; Giangrande 1968: 58–59; Meillier 1995: 132; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 150; Hardie 2016: 99–101. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-009

300  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos the context is articulated differently. Pindar is the only poet to address to his θυμός questions such as the one in the opening of the Hymn to Delos. With the exception of the Encomium of Theoxenus, in which Pindar schools his θυμός with regard to the proper time for falling in love (fr. 123.1–2 Sn.-M.),4 in Olympian 2 and Nemean 3, Pindar uses the address to his θυμός in transitional passages that preface the change in the direction of the poem. In view of the additional reasons why Pindaric influence ought to be considered in the opening lines of the Hymn to Delos, the Pindaric credentials of this opening technique need to be examined further. ἔπεχε νῦν σκοπῷ τόξον, ἄγε θυμέ· τίνα βάλλομεν ἐκ μαλθακᾶς αὖτε φρενὸς εὐκλέας ὀϊστοὺς ἱέντες;

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Olympian 2.89–90 Come now, my heart, direct your bow to the mark; whom do we target shooting arrows that bring good fame from our gentle mind? θυμέ, τίνα πρὸς ἀλλοδαπάν ἄκραν ἐμὸν πλόον παραμείβεαι; Αἰακῷ σε φαμὶ γένει τε Μοῖσαν φέρειν Nemean 3.26–28 My heart, towards what foreign headland do you turn my voyage? I bid you to bring the Muse back to Aeacus and his race.

In both passages, Pindar gives the impression that he is working alongside his θυμός in selecting material relevant to the praise of his laudandus. The lines from Olympian 25 belong to an extensive metapoetic break-off section that prepares for the closure of the ode. The phrasing of the question is very close to the opening of Callimachus’s hymn strengthening the possibility that Callimachus imitates Pindar.6 In Nemean 3, the invocation of the poet’s heart effects a transition from Heracles’s successes to the myth proper of the ode, which concentrates on the

 4 The θυμός is appropriately addressed here because it is the seat of passion; Groningen 1960: 54 ad loc. 5 See the discussion in Chapter 7 p. 164. 6 D’Alessio 2007: vol. 1, 130n1; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 150.

Introduction  301

exploits of the descendants of Aeacus. Pindar may give the impression that praise of Heracles is inopportune, but this is an incorrect assumption. Heracles sets the limits against which both the victor and the Aeacids are praised; the comparison with the son of Zeus, intriguingly called a hero god (22), is honorific.7 From the above comments, it emerges that invoking one’s θυμός, at least in Pindar, effects a transition. At the same time, as both passages demonstrate, through this device Pindar conveys a sense of intimacy and personal interest in the praise of his laudandus and of his country. Bearing this background in mind, we can establish that the address to Callimachus’s θυμός in the first line of the hymn performs a double function. First, it suggests that singing of Delos, Apollo’s birth place, is a matter close to the poet’s heart. This is corroborated by lines 7–8: Apollo hates the bard who forgets Delos. Second, Callimachus innovates by placing the Pindaric device in the opening of the hymn, not at a transition within the poem. However, an intriguing possibility arises if Callimachus’s hymns are read continuously one after the other. In such a case, the address to the poet’s θυμός in the opening of the fourth Hymn retains the function it has in Pindar, effecting a transition from the Hymn to Artemis to the Hymn to Delos. The three middle hymns in the collection form a closely-knit unit as they focus on the children of Zeus by Leto. Also, the two hymns that frame the Hymn to Artemis (Hymn to Apollo and Hymn to Delos) depend on the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. Seen in this light, Callimachus’s rendition of this transitional technique is also part of his process of providing links between the hymns of the collection. There are two further aspects of this opening question which merit attention: first, the issue of the content of the song that Callimachus suggests as a topic close to his heart; and second, the implications of delay that the question conveys and its connection with the proem of Isthmian 1. It is typical for the poet of a hymn to praise the deity he or she addresses in terms of the god’s πολυυμνία or εὐυμνία. The motif is worked into the proem of this hymn in lines 3–4: Delos is part of the Cyclades, which are ἱερώταται (“most holy”) and εὔυμνοι (“beautifully sung”). Delos stands out from this group of islands because of her special connection with Apollo.8 The details of this connection are elaborated at line six. Following a technique typical in mythological discourse (cf. e.g. Pindar’s treatment of Cyrene in Pythian 9), Callimachus confuses Delos the island with Delos the personified nymph of the island.9 This ambiguity is never cleared up and recurs repeatedly in the hymn. Delos is the first to bathe, swaddle, and praise Apollo as a god.  7 Instone 1996: 158–159 on 22–6, 160 on 26–27. 8 Mineur 1984: 53–54 ad loc. 9 For the archaeology of this motif, see Giuseppetti 2013: 75–76.

302  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos Delos is not only Apollo’s nurse, she is also the god’s first devotee. The second half of line six (“and she was the first to praise him as a god”) alerts us to an important aspect of the god’s birth—that is, that the birth of a god is the god’s first epiphanic manifestation. Developing this line of reasoning, one may take a step further and discuss Delos’s reception of Leto in a relevant light. In offering Leto a place to bear her son Apollo, Delos’s conduct contrasts strongly with that of other islands and locations that flee the advent of the pregnant goddess. This reaction is motivated by their fear of Hera and her minions. But by doing so, these locales spurn the godhood of Apollo (cf. particularly the case of Thebes). Delos’s reception of the goddess can thus be approached against the background of theoxeny myths:10 she offers hospitality to Leto, enables the manifestation of the new god, and greets him as a god.11 In return, Delos is rewarded with a prominent role in the cult of Apollo (275–326) and her own hymn, which constitutes a recognition of her own divine standing. With these considerations in mind, one can revisit the first two lines of the hymn. Callimachus asks his θυμός when he will sing of Delos the κουροτρόφος (“nurse”) of Apollo. The phrasing is syntactically ambiguous. The accusative κουροτρόφον may be in apposition to Δῆλον or a predicate—“Delos, who is Apollo’s nurse” or “Delos as Apollo’s nurse.” The ambiguity has a bearing on the way in which one views Calimachus’s relationship with the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. That is, the birth of Apollo is part of the Delian section of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. There is no Homeric hymn dedicated solely to Apollo’s birthplace. The phrasing of line two suggests that Callimachus turns against the tradition, claiming the right of Delos to be sung and praised in her own right as Apollo’s nurse rather than as part of a hymn dedicated to Apollo. The reason for which Delos could be praised is her role as κουροτρόφος. Nonetheless, Callimachus betrays the expectations this question gives rise to. The hymn contains material that is rhetorically conducive to adding praise to Delos but strictly speaking irrelevant to Apollo’s birth (e.g. Delos’s original name and the story about it; the story of Niobe; the birth of Ptolemy; Theseus’s stop on Delos). By stressing the kourtotrophic role of Delos, Callimachus engages in a game with his readers: he succeeds in demonstrating that there are more stories about Delos than just her rearing of Apollo and so establishes the credentials of this small island as being worthy to have a hymn dedicated to it. In addition, Delos serves as the textual

 10 For Delos’s hospitality to Leto and the possible connection with Pythian 4, see Meillier 1995: 143. 11 For theoxeny myths, see Burnett 1970.

Introduction  303

locus which offers a hospitable ground to several stories, reenacting the island’s/nymph’s archetypal reception of Leto.12 In this regard, as Massimo Giuseppetti (2013: 228) suggests, Callimachus claims for his hymn the role of the canonical and definitive poem in praise of Delos. Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos embeds but also supersedes the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, Olen’s nomos, and Pindar’s songs.13 Consequently, Apollo’s honors to Delos do not concern solely her role in cult and rituals. They also concern her association with poetry, one of Apollo’s remits. In defending the independence of his poetic standing through the story of Delos, Callimachus imitates the approach of Pindar in his rendition of the same episode in Paean 7b:14 Pindar clearly articulates his independence from Homer. The Pindaric subtext is important in helping to achieve a finer appreciation of Callimachus’s art in this poem. An intriguing aspect of the question Callimachus poses to his θυμός concerns its timeliness. Callimachus does not ask whether his θυμός will sing of Delos’s rearing of Apollo or not. Instead he focuses on the time he shall do so. There is a problem in the text of line one. Τὴν ἱερήν, ὦ θυμέ, τίνα χρόνον †ηποτ† ἀείσεις ἢ πότ᾽ α e La δ: ἤ ποτ᾽ ΕΠζ εἴ ποτ᾽ Reiske: εἶπον Lloyd-Jones: ἠπύτ᾽ Mineur

There can be no doubt about the content of the question. Callimachus asks his θυμός when he will sing of Delos—the accusative τίνα χρόνον being secure. The following two words are debated. They seem to represent the disjunctive conjunction ἤ and probably the interrogative particle πότε (LSJ9 s.v. I), but the meaning thus produced is hardly satisfactory (“My heart, at what time or when will you sing of sacred [Delos]?”).15 Instead of “or when” one would expect something

 12 The metapoetic symbolism of Delos has become a staple of the secondary literature on this poem: Bing 1988: 94–96; Slings 2002. Hardie 2016: 86 traces the origin of this trope back to Pindar’s first hymn. Against such readings, Giuseppetti (2013: 32–35) makes a strong case that Callimachus’s representation of Delos reflects its position in the Nesiotic League and its importance for the Ptolemies. However, this does not exclude the metapoetic potential of Callimachus’s discourse. 13 See also Hardie 2016: 130 for Delos as a figurative mouseion, a trope that continues the architectural imagery of Delos as a temple in Pindar’s first hymn. 14 For the connection, see D’Alessio 2007: vol. 1, 135n12. This is also the central premise in Bing’s 1988 reading of the poem. For a different approach criticizing Bing’s interpretative premises, see Depew 1998. 15 I find renditions of τίνα χρόνον as “at what order?” (Giangrande) or “for how long?” (Ukleja) not particularly convincing or appropriate to the context; cf. Mineur 1984: 50–52.

304  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos along the lines of “if not now” or “if ever” (ἤ ποτε or ἦ ποτε)—the indefinite use of ποτε (LSJ9 s.v. II).16 In spite of the textual uncertainties, there is an unmistakable implication of tardiness on the part of the poet. A hymn to Delos has been a desideratum for some time now, and Callimachus draws attention to this fact. This implication can be approached from two vantage points, one intratextual and one intertextual. If we assume that the current arrangement of the hymns goes back to Callimachus, the Hymn to Delos is the fourth poem in the book. By the time one reaches this hymn, one has to go through the relatively short hymns to Zeus and Apollo and the more extensive one to Artemis. From this point of view, Callimachus communicates the anticipation that has been created by the lack of any mention of Delos in the previous two hymns.17 This anticipation has been felt more keenly on account of Callimachus’s decision to dissociate the episode of Apollo’s birth from the hymn to that god and associate it instead with that to Delos. From an intertextual point of view, the feeling of anticipation calls attention to the lack of a Homeric model for a hymn to Delos and Callimachus’s innovation. In this reading the question sounds almost like an implicit criticism addressed not only to previous poets but to Callimachus himself for following their lead: Delos deserves a poem to herself, and Callimachus is setting this wrong right. Ultimately the address to Callimachus’s θυμός like its Pindaric counterparts serves a metapoetic function that intends to underscore the poet’s superior art. In addition to the Pindaric flavor that an address to the poet’s θυμός carries, Pindaric influence also figures in Callimachus’s decision to address the issue of the timeliness of his poetic composition. An important Pindaric parallel for such an opening gambit is provided by the proem of Pindar’s Isthmian 1:18 Μᾶτερ ἐμά, τὸ τεόν, χρύσασπι Θήβα, πρᾶγμα καὶ ἀσχολίας ὑπέρτερον θήσομαι. μή μοι κραναὰ νεμεσάσαι Δᾶλος, ἐν ᾇ κέχυμαι. τί φίλτερον κεδνῶν τοκέων ἀγαθοῖς; εἶξον, ὦ Ἀπολλωνιάς· ἀμφοτερᾶν τοι χαρίτων σὺν θεοῖς ζεύξω τέλος,

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 16 Gigante Lanzara 1990: 69; Ukleja 2005: 81–86; Stephens 2015a: 179 ad loc. See, however, Mineur 1984: 51. 17 Hardie 2016: 101. 18 The issue of Pindar’s tardiness in delivering well-deserved praise is a typical opening device as can be deduced from Olympian 10: Bundy 1972: 60–61. The rhetorical effect of this technique was lost on ancient commentators who devised biographical readings. Callimachus, on the other hand, reactivates the trope incorporating it in his metapoetic discourse.

Introduction  305

καὶ τὸν ἀκερσεκόμαν Φοῖβον χορεύων ἐν Κέῳ̆ ἀμφιρύτᾳ σὺν ποντίοις ἀνδράσιν, καὶ τὰν ἁλιερκέα Ἰσθμοῦ δειράδ’· ἐπεὶ στεφάνους ἓξ ὤπασεν Κάδμου στρατῷ ἐξ ἀέθλων, καλλίνικον πατ’ρίδι κῦδος.

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My mother, Thebes of the golden shield, your interest higher than my lack of leisure I will place. Rocky Delos, on whose praise I have poured myself out, do not bear a grudge against me. What is dearer to good men than their noble parents? Give way, Apollo’s isle; with the gods’ help under the same yoke will I join the completion of both songs, dancing in honor both of Phoebus with the uncut hair on seagirt Keos in the company of sea men, and of Isthmus’s sea-dividing ridge. For six wreaths from its own games it bestowed upon the people of Cadmus, the renown of fair victories for my fatherland.

Isthmian 1 celebrates the chariot victory of the Theban Herodotus in the Isthmian Games. Pindar capitalizes on the opportunity the Theban provenance of the victor offers him to stress his Theban links with Herodotus. Typically, the praise poet tries to forge strong links between himself and the victorious athlete. In order to achieve this, Pindar represents himself as one of the victor’s friends or in other cases he stresses national links based on mythological genealogies. In Pythian 5 Pindar identifies himself with the members of the chorus stressing his identity as an Aegeid; similarly, in Pythian 1, he links himself to Hieron on account of their common Dorian descent.19 In odes for Aeginetan victors, Pindar lays the focus on the connections between Thebes and Aegina in that both nymphs were supposed to be daughters of the river-god Asopos. What sets the opening lines of Isthmian 1 apart from other relevant passages is the elaborate way in which the connection between poet and athlete is contextualized in the metanarrative of the ode. In a previous chapter, we discussed the way in which Pindar and Callimachus present a quasi-narrative of the composition of their ode.20 In Isthmian 1, Pindar priori-

 19 Lefkowitz (1976: 118 with n. 10) raises the possibility that Πινδ-όθεν ὀρ-νύμενοι (Pyth. 1.66) could be a folk etymology of the poet’s name. Accordingly, the poet would insert himself in the colonial story that took the Dorians to the Peloponnese and from there to Syracuse as he also does in Pythian 5 through the use of the patronymic Aegeides. 20 See Chapter 1 p. 26.

306  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos tizes this ode over another commission: a paean for Apollo intended to be performed on the island of Keos.21 The ancient scholiast (Σ ad 6d) identifies this song with a paean, probably the fourth in our standard modern editions (D4 Rutherford).22 Pindar’s Paean 4 was commissioned to be performed on Delos by a chorus of Kean men.23 Callimachus, as we have seen, alludes to this poem in the opening of his Victoria Berenices. Some points of contact with the Hymn to Delos suggest that Callimachus telescopes this poem through Isthmian 1. In addition, scholars also assume that the description of Delos in Hymn 4 imitates the description of Keos in Pindar’s paean.24 Pindar asks Delos to forgive him for delaying the paean. The links that he shares with the victor exercise a force upon him that he cannot forgo. Beside the historical allusion there is a rhetorical aspect: the juxtaposition of the two poems underlines the professional status of the poet by recalling the commission of the paean.25 Pindar may not have needed such a reminder as late in his career as 458 BCE, the probable date of this song, but the praise reflects positively on the victor. The audience is invited to compare and contrast generic discourses (paean in relation to victory song) and addressees (Apollo and victor). The brief mention of the paean suggests parallels that cast Herodotus as a mortal analogous figure for the victorious Apollo. As Boris Maslov (2015: 255) notes, “The mention of the Kean commission […] allows the poet to appropriate for the given epinician occasion the authority of a cult song.” How do these lines influence Callimachus’s hymn? There are two main reasons why this proem is significant for our appreciation of the fourth Callimachean hymn. First is the issue of belatedness in praising Delos. This feeling of lateness that Callimachus’s question conveys reflects the hymn’s order in the collection as well as its relationship with the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. Furthermore, the Pindaric text offers an additional contextualization. Addressing his θυμός, Callimachus refers to Pindar’s promise. There is a scholarly aspect to this relationship. The erudite reader knows that Pindar kept his promise: he delivered the paean, and this is Paean 4. Isthmian 1 suggests that Paean 4 postdates the song for Herodotus, but this is not necessarily true. The allusion to Paean 4 would be equally,

 21 Privitera 1982: 9; Instone 1996: 170, 173–174 on 1–12. 22 Rutherford 2001: 284. 23 Isthm. 1.7–8 suggest instead a choral performance on Keos, not Delos. Rutherford (2001: 292– 293) tentatively suggests a first performance on Keos and a second one on Delos. 24 Giuseppetti 2013: 214–215. For the content of Paean 4, see Rutherford 2001: 284–285. 25 Thummer 1969: vol. 2, 9 on 1–10, 10 on 1–3 (“Hindernismotiv”).

θεὸς ἄλλος: Delos and Ptolemaic Praise  307

if not more, effective, if the poem was performed before Isthmian 1:26 Pindar may be excusing himself for the delay in composing Isthmian 1 because his time was taken up by Paean 4. The prestige of the Delian commission reflects positively on the ode for the Theban victor. However this may be, Callimachus employs the textual ploy of the delay as developed in Isthmian 1 to direct his readers early on to the importance of the Pindaric paean for Callimachus’s hymn. A second possible reason for the relevance of Isthmian 1 for the discussion of Callimachus’s hymn is offered by the juxtaposition of Delos, as an Apollonian domain, with Thebes. In lines 88–98 Apollo attacks Thebes for her unwillingness to offer shelter to Leto. An irate Apollo alludes to his future hatred towards the Theban Niobe and her offspring. The antagonistic terms in which Callimachus views Apollo and Thebes is motivated by Pindar’s prioritization of Thebes qua mother of the poet over Delos and Apollo. The mother-child relationship is intrinsic to both passages offering a further point of contact between the two poems. A famous son of Thebes, Pindar placates the god by including part of the god’s praise in Isthmian 1, thus doubling his praise.

θεὸς ἄλλος: Delos and Ptolemaic Praise A central premise of Callimachus’s fourth hymn concerns the parallel that Apollo offers between himself and Ptolemy.27 Ptolemy as the earthly avatar or parallel of Zeus’s favorite son—this much is implied by line 58—is a pivotal theme of other court poems, especially Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo and Theocritus’s Encomium of Ptolemy Philadelphus. If Callimachus’s second hymn concerns Ptolemy III Euergetes, as we argued in the previous chapter, the fourth hymn refers to his predecessor, Ptolemy II Philadelphus.28 It would thus appear that comparison to Apollo was in the process of becoming a standard aspect of Ptolemaic imagery. In the second hymn, the analogy between Apollo and Ptolemy influences the representation of the choreia and its role as reenactment of mythological episodes fraught with archetypal significance. The influence of Pythians 1, 5, and 9 is pivotal in this respect. The Hymn to Delos exhibits a different device: the analogy  26 Rutherford’s (2001: 292–293) hypothesis of a double performance, one on Delos and one on Keos, would fit nicely with this interpretation. 27 Crucial to this aspect of the poem is Apollo’s prophecy, which according to Meillier (1995: 136–141), should be seen as a Pindaric reflex: Callimachus imitates Pindar’s combination of epic with lyric discourses in Pythian 4. 28 For the date of this hymn during Philadelphus’s reign, see Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 2, 62 (269– 265 BCE); Mineur 1984: 16–18 (274 BCE) Giuseppetti 2013: 34 (second half of 270s).

308  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos between Apollo and Ptolemy II Philadelphus is conveyed through the structural articulation of the poem itself. The juxtaposition of Apollo’s and Ptolemy’s victories over the Gauls in lines 171–187 mirrors the bipartite structure of the preceding lines. This duality comes to an end with Leto’s parturition, which occasions the delivery of Delos’s embedded hymn to Apollo (266–273). The choreia, if present, concerns the parallels between Delos and Apollo’s mortal worshippers, a group which also includes Callimachus qua composer of the hymn and his readers. The opening lines of the hymn establish the correlation between praising Delos and Apollo (5–6) and the reciprocity between the praise of Delos and Apollo’s favor (8–10). Similarly it is Apollo himself who establishes a connection with Ptolemy, in the manner that he as a god recognizes the divinity of another god (Ptolemy). In view of the connection between the Hymn to Delos and Isthmian 1 suggested above, one of the possible influences on formatting the analogy between Ptolemy and Apollo could have been suggested by the similar one between Apollo (Delos) and Herodotus (Thebes).29 On the other hand, if Giuseppetti’s (2013: 143–146) reconstruction of the Coan part in Pindar’s first hymn is correct, Callimachus varies the Pindaric juxtaposition of Apollo with Heracles. The fact that Heracles was the ancestor of the Ptolemies would make this a particularly appealing intertext. The selection of Apollo as a royal role model happened quite certainly independently of Pindar’s poetry under the influence of the royal cult of Horus and of his Hellenic interpretation. Nonetheless, the combination of the praise of Delos with the praise of a mortal man could offer a further similarity between Callimachus’s hymn and Isthmian 1, even though Callimachus reverses the relationship in terms of space and emphasis: in Isthmian 1, the Delian poem is embedded in the victory song; in the Hymn to Delos, the song about Ptolemy’s victory over the Gauls—an epinician, martial paean, or even an encomium—is embedded in a hymn for Delos and Apollo.30 The details of the comparison between Apollo and Ptolemy have been the object of several excellent discussions.31 The following pages will focus on the manner in which these two episodes interact with the imagery of the rest of the  29 The fact that Pindar’s ode celebrates a victory at the games sacred to Poseidon may account for the presence of Poseidon in Callimachus’s hymn. For Poseidon’s positive role, see Hardie 2016: 82. 30 The defeat of the Gauls is associated with the reception of a γέρας by Apollo and of “many prizes” (πολλὰ ἀέθλια) by Ptolemy as recompense for his toil (πολλὰ καμόντος). Toil is a condition for Ptolemy’s dinivization (Meiller 1995: 143–144), reflecting also Heracles’s career (Giuseppetti 2013: 145–146). Despite the epic coloring, the ideological implications (victory as sign of excellence bringing one as close as possible to the gods—in the case of Heracles making one a god as e.g. in Nemean 1) is Pindaric and points towards the influence of epinician poetry. 31 See, in particular, Bing 1988: 131–139; Giuseppetti 2013.

Transitional Passages: Procession as Performative Metaphor  309

poem and the role of Pindaric influence therein. Developing a motif that we have already seen in other court poems, particularly Callimachus’s Hymn to Zeus, the Victoria Berenices, and Apollonius’s Argonautica the Gallic opponents of Apollo and Ptolemy are described as later-day Titans. Any threat to the rule of Ptolemy and Apollo is thus seen as a repetition of the archetypal struggle that led to the establishment of Zeus’s rule. In addition to placing the impious Gauls on the side of the Titans, Apollo also associates them with Ares (173, Κελτόν … Ἄρηα, “Celtic Ares”). This choice is not fortuitous. Later when Delos becomes fixed in the Aegean, Callimachus points out that Delos is untouched by either Hades or Ares. Ares has been represented as Leto’s enemy throughout the poem, siding with his mother Hera. The birth of Apollo relegates Ares to a secondary position in his father’s affections.32 Ares then plays a double role as Leto’s persecutor and ally to the Gallic invaders; and this fact creates bridges between the hymn’s main myth and the inset historic episodes.33

Transitional Passages: Procession as Performative Metaphor The narrative proper starts at line 55 and ends with the birth of Apollo at line 274. Between the beginning of the narrative and the proem (1–10), Callimachus includes two episodes that contribute to the remarkable position Delos holds. In lines 11–27, Callimachus groups Delos among the major islands in the Mediterranean (Corsica, Euboea, Sardinia, and Cyprus). The depiction of these islands visiting the primeval couple Oceanus and Tethys blurs the distinction between island as a mass of land in the sea and the nymph that is resident on said island and gives her name to it. Are we to picture women paying a visit to their ancestors? Or are the actual islands supposed to move to the reaches of the world? The ambiguity prepares for the ambiguities in the depiction of Delos herself later in

 32 In the Iliad Zeus has only harsh words for this son of his (5.889–898). Whitman 1958: 234– 236 has also remarked that in the Iliad Ares is associated with the Trojan side as the god of inordinate fighting and defeat as opposed to Athena who stands for victory. Against this Homeric background, it is difficult to view Ares as the god of “old (poetic) order in which [he] is the favorite son: i.e. that order which favors heroic epic,” as Bing 1988: 122 suggests. Futhermore, heroic military aspects can be discerned in the defeat of the Gauls by Apollo and Ptolemy. 33 Ares’s otherness in Hellenistic poetry is also supported by his role in Apollonius’s Argonautica: Ares is constantly associated with non-Hellenic civilizations (e.g. Amazons, Colchians) strengthening his opposition to Apollo. In the case of the Colchians, the strong Titanic associations of their land offers an interesting parallel to Ares’s association with Typhon in Callimachus’s hymn.

310  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos the poem. One moment Delos is a perambulating island; the other a woman who lifts the baby Apollo in her hands. In addition, the grouping of Delos with these islands is oxymoronic. In terms of size Delos is not at all near the landmass of any of the islands mentioned. Nonetheless, the protection Apollo offers her makes up for her relative unimportance. ἐξάρχων (“leader”) at line 18 supports the image of a procession headed by Delos.34 In other passages Callimachus describes cyclic performances with Delos in the center. Processional or cyclic performances recur to underline the significance of Delos in the cosmos that is still in the process of formation.35 The ability of islands and lands to move at will either to avoid or to welcome Leto is an indication that the events Callimachus describes in this hymn take place at a relatively early phase in the history of the world. Callimachus describes the genesis of islands through the actions of Poseidon. The several images of landscapes, rivers, and islands moving as well as the noises produced by Apollo’s enemies, particularly Ares and the Gauls, give the impression of seismic activity that unsettles the still malleable cosmic material. The birth of Apollo puts an end to the peregrinations of Leto and Delos and concludes the cosmogonic process. Both in terms of the choreia (either processional or cyclic dances)36 that Callimachus uses to describe Delos attaining her position of importance in the Aegean as well as in that the opponents of Apollo produce noises that cause seismic activity, Callimachus is influenced by the discourse Pindar developed in Pythian 1 to describe the eruption of Etna. Lines 11–27 then account for the selection of Delos as a topic fit to be sung by Callimachus. But they also introduce motifs that are important in the narrative proper. Lines 28–54 form a second section that helps to set up the background against which the main episode, that is Apollo’s birth, is narrated. Callimachus addresses a question to Delos herself. Such questions to the divinity praised are typical of hexameter hymns. A pertinent parallel is provided by the Homeric Hymn to Apollo (19–21): Πῶς τάρ σ’ ὑμνήσω πάντως εὔυμνον ἐόντα; πάντῃ γάρ τοι, Φοῖβε, νομοὶ βεβλήαται ᾠδῆς, ἠμὲν ἀν’ ἤπειρον πορτιτρόφον ἠδ’ ἀνὰ νήσους.

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 34 Mineur 1984: 67; Gigante Lanzara 1990: 74–75; Stephens 2015a: 183. 35 The importance of choreia as a metaphor for the structuring of the world, particularly in the final section of Callimachus’s hymn, owes something to Plato’s cosmic choreia in the Timaeus, as suggested by Bing 1988: 125–128. 36 The distinction is not real as a procession can adopt a circular formation; see Calame 1977: vol. 1, 83–84.

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How shall I praise you who are by all means celebrated in many songs? For the pastures of your song, Phoebus, have been laid everywhere both on the calf-nourishing land and islands.

The Homeric parallel helps to illustrate the structure of Callimachus’s passage. The question the Homeric bard addresses to Phoebus performs a transitional role: it enables the narrator to proceed with the narrative and focus on the Delian part of the hymn. The Homeric poet specifies (20) that νομοὶ ᾠδῆς are thrown in all directions both on the mainland and on islands. Line twenty-one has a general tone that embraces the whole of creation (ἠμὲν ἀν’ ἤπειρον πορτιτρόφον ἠδ’ ἀνὰ νήσους). This description is not only an elaboration of Apollo’s quality as εὔυμνος (19); it also provides the foundations upon which the narrator selects one of these islands—Delos. This function offers a first point of contact with Callimachus’s hymn. Hymn 4.28–54 set out the reason for Delos’s difference from other islands. However, unlike the Homeric intertext Callimachus does not reference the whole of creation at this point. Instead he offers a meticulous geographical catalogue that encompasses the whole of the Greek world. The locations on mainland Greece are threatened by Ares, whilst the islands by Iris. The division between mainland and islands reflects line twenty-one of the Homeric hymn. In addition, the two catalogues offer a complete geography of Greece in mythological times. To be sure, Callimachus is exclusively Hellenocentric in his approach, but so is the Homeric poet. Despite the general tone of line twenty-one the lines following suggest beyond any doubt that the Homeric poet means solely Greek locations. On the other hand, Callimachus goes a step further by incorporating this device into his praise of Ptolemy. Ptolemy’s realm comprises the entirety of the world under the sun. The exaggeration matches the exaggeration in Leto’s Panhellenic perambulations as well as those of Delos. In the Homeric Hymn to Apollo the question to the deity comes after the proem and before the Delian section. In between there is a generic scene that describes the arrival of the god on Olympus. The scene has a timeless essence to itself as the narrator does not tie it to a specific occasion—for example after the birth of Apollo.37 The Homeric bard accounts for his decision not to ignore Apollo. How can a mortal poet ignore the god who inspires fear but who also entertains the gods whenever he reaches Olympus? Lines 11–27 of Callimachus’s hymn imitate, or at least perform a function analogous to, lines 2–13 of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. True, the prominence Delos enjoys over bigger islands is the result of her

 37 J. Clay 2006: 22–29.

312  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos rearing of Apollo, which has not been narrated in the poem yet. But this temporal “anacoluthon” is also true of Apollo’s glorious entry into Zeus’s court. The fearful reaction of the gods as well as the particular interest the narrator shows in Apollo’s arrows (6–9) presuppose Apollo’s defeat of the Pythian dragon. In addition, as in the Homeric hymn, the procession of the islands in Callimachus’s poem is timeless and repetitive in its conceptualization: the visit of the islands to their ancestors is not tied to a specific occasion, but is seen as a generic scene, possibly repeated through time. A final similarity between these two passages concerns the celebratory tone present in both of them. Apollo arrives on Olympus where he is received by his parents—note that Hera is absent and that Leto replaces her as Zeus’s consort. Along similar lines, Delos visits her own ancestors, Oceanus and Tethys. Scholars suggest that Apollo’s entry is a revelation of his divinity, bearing the textual hallmarks of an epiphany scene.38 Callimachus also suggests that Delos’s procession is a manifestation of her divine status. Indeed, her role as chorus-leader (18, ἐξάρχων) suggests that her divine status is best appreciated when she heads the divine chorus of islands. This aspect of her divinity appears later in the hymn when she leaps from Olympus. At this point, one should also note the parallel with Apollo’s representation in the Homeric hymn. Lines 186–206 offer a structural parallel to lines 2–13.39 After his birth on Delos, Apollo heads to Olympus where he leads the divine choreia entertaining the gods and particularly his parents.40 The presence of Zeus and Leto is a link between both scenes suggesting that lines 186–206 of the Homeric hymn offer another epiphanic manifestation of Apollo. The interaction between these two entrances exhibit Apollo in his main roles, as archer and dancer. Delos shares the second attribute with Apollo. In many respects, Callimachus fashions the Hymn to Delos on the model of the Homeric hymn, applying elements appropriate to Apollo to Delos herself. If the divine choreia is the prototype for the festivities on Delos described in lines 140–185 of the Homeric hymn,41 in Callimachus Delos’s performance is the exemplar for the various theoric processions to Delos and the choral performance around Apollo’s altar. Ultimately, choreia is the force signifying divine order.

 38 N.J. Richardson 2010: 82 explains that Apollo’s arrival combines elements from “visit” and “epiphany” scenes; cf. J. Clay 2006: 29. Callimachus may not say as much, but lines 8–10 certainly imply fear of Apollo if he forgets Delos. 39 J. Clay 2006: 54. 40 Lonsdale 1993: 51–70. 41 Lonsdale 1993: 65–68; N.J. Richardson 2010: 112 on 186–206.

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By evoking these Homeric parallels, Callimachus explains certain aspects of his own myth. The prominence of Leto on Olympus accounts for the central role she plays in Callimachus’s version as well. Hera is delegated in both poems to the role of the jealous goddess trying to unsettle Zeus’s universe. In addition, Zeus is peculiarly absent from both poems. He only makes a brief appearance in order to recognize his son, Apollo, in the two Olympic scenes, but does not appear elsewhere. As Jenny Clay (2006: 22) explains, Zeus’s role is to diffuse tension and restore order in the divine assembly. He performs a similar role in Callimachus’s poem, removing Hera’s anger and enabling the birth of his son. Pindar develops, as we will see below, this motif, in his account in Paean 12. Zeus’s providence brings the three accounts together reinforcing the importance of Zeus’s role as guarantor of cosmic order. The Homeric parallel shows that at line 28 of Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos we still have not reached the beginning of the narrative proper. We are in the phase of transition. The procession headed by Delos becomes a manifestation of the transitional role that these lines perform, joining the proem with the narrative proper. Lines 11–27 communicate the prominence of Delos and the end result of the narrative on the model of the Homeric hymn. The lines that follow lay a further foundation for the narrative. They describe the status quo anterior to Apollo’s birth and preempt any possible objections to details of the narrative that follows. Callimachus expresses emphatically that the birth of Apollo is a turning point that shapes the world as we know it. He also explains the uniqueness of Delos that allows her to defy the wishes of Hera. Furthermore, by insisting on the distinct origins of Delos from other islands, Callimachus in effect separates the mobility of Delos prior to Apollo’s birth from that of other locales during Leto’s peregrinations. This difference becomes a significant theme that helps to characterize Hera and her minions as agents of chaos. In addition to the parallel offered by the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, the structural articulation of Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos bears strong similarities to the structure of Pindar’s Pythian 4, as will be described in the following chapter. The importance of Pythian 4 for the myth of Delos and particularly the prophecy of Apollo has been argued by Claude Meillier (1995). To his valuable comments, one can add some structural points that throw some light on Callimachus’s narrative technique in this hymn. First of all, lines 1–27 could be seen as a self-contained hymn to Delos: Callimachus praises Delos on account of her special connection to Apollo and provides an instance of the special position she holds among islands as a result of Apollo’s favor. To this miniature hymn Callimachus adds a more detailed mythological narrative that elaborates upon the first lines and at the same time offers a background to them. There is an unmistakable similarity

314  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos to the first section of Pythian 4, which resembles, as we shall see, a self-contained miniature epinician. This is developed by the extensive epicizing narrative that describes the Argonautic expedition. The node that keeps both sections together is the question about the causes of the expedition. The scholia understood this to be addressed to the Muses. Callimachus’s hymn offers a similar technique: the questions in lines 28–29 functions as a second proem enabling the transition to the myth proper.42 The analogy to the Homeric Hymn to Apollo suggests that Pindar draws his device from epic, possibly hymnic, poetry. However, the ring composition that structures Callimachus’s hymn brings the Hellenistic poem closer to Pythian 4, in which a similar structure operates.43 The final section of the Hymn to Delos (275–326) returns to the hymnic discourse prominent in the opening line as does the third section of Pythian 4 (263–299). Finally, the final part of Pythian 4 establishes the connection between the mythological past and the laudandus’s present outside the mythological confines of Medea’s prophecy in the first section. A similar movement from mythological to historical times is detectable in the final section of Callimachus’s hymn, lending strength to the suggestion that Callimachus is imitating Pythian 4, the longest Pindaric ode, for his longest hymn.44

Weaving the Narrative: Tradition and Innovation The poet of the Homeric hymn to Apollo employs a spatial metaphor to communicate the great number of traditions relevant to Apollo. The verb βεβλήαται the Homeric poet uses tallies with Apollo’s role as a builder: the poet lays the foundation of the pastures of songs in Apollo’s honor.45 Accordingly, most locations  42 One also notes the parallel with the questions in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo 19, 207. 43 The resemblance to Pindaric epinicians was first noticed by Cahen (1930: 153) who does not mention Pythian 4 specifically: “L’éloge de Délos, terre pauvre, mais aimé du dieu, vv. 1–27, en sa perpétuelle festivité, vv. 275–326, est, en ces deux développements, qui idéalement se font suite à chaque extrémité du poème, le sujet de l’hymne. Sur quoi, comme dans l’epinikion pindarique, se greffe le ‘mythe’ [...].” 44 The Delian festival and the founding of the oracle at Delphi create a bridge between the mythological narrative of the Homeric hymn and cultic praxis. This provides a further point of contact between Pindar’s victory songs and hymnic poetry, strengthening the intertextual nexus between Homer, Pindar, and Callimachus. 45 For the architectural metaphor, see Allen, Halliday, and Sikes 1936: 204; N.J. Richardson 2010: 86 ad loc. The MSS waver in their reading of nomos as an oxytone (νομός, “pasture”) or paroxytone (νόμος, “custom”). In addition, the use of the third-person plural βεβλήαται is seen as incompatible with a singular subject, leading to the emendation of νόμος to νομοί.

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in Greece, as the Homeric bard goes on to demonstrate, can claim a connection to Apollo. Callimachus stays true to the essence of the question but varies the imagery, selecting instead an equally traditional motif—that of weaving (29, ἐνιπλέξω).46 But there is more to this. Callimachus in fact combines two distinct imageries as suggested by both περιτροχόωσιν (28) and ἐνιπλέξω (29). Twice already Callimachus has described Delos in relation to other islands: first in connection to the Cyclades (3) and second in connection to major islands. In both cases, performative discourse is employed: Delos outdoes all other islands, and this fact is associated with choral performances. After Apollo’s birth the choreia of the islands becomes fixed with the Cyclades forming a circle around Delos, who thus assumes the permanent role of their ἐξάρχων or χορηγός. The choral performances on Delos around the altar of Apollo reenact on a human scale the cosmic choreia of the islands. Callimachus repeatedly uses the image of circular dancing or circularity to convey the interrelation between events taking place in the world of gods and their ritual reenactment in the world of ordinary men. περιτροχόωσιν is another such instance:47 the songs told about Delos are like dancers performing their dance around their ἐξάρχων. In the previous scene, Delos is again the ἐξάρχων because she leads in procession a group of islands. In this scene, songs circle Delos as the Cyclades do and the θεωροί will also circle Apollo’s altar on her. Delos’s suitability as a subject of praise is conveyed through her leading role in Apollonine choreia. This metaphor provides an additional indication about the centrality of choric imagery to the representation of Delos. The interaction of περιτροχόωσιν with ἐνιπλέξω in the following line adds a further layer of meaning to the imagery. In both transitional scenes Callimachus stresses the mobility of the island, which is reflected by the mobility of the songs about her. ἐνιπλέξω by contrast conveys the idea of fixing permanently, of immobilizing both songs about Delos and Delos herself as reflected in any of these songs.48 The interaction of lines 28 and 29 with each other communicates a sense of urgency. ἀοιδαί are moving fast, and Callimachus needs to memorialize them by including them in his poetic garment. Weaving as a poetic metaphor is of Indoeuropean provenance.49 Its first attestation in the Hellenic world is with Helen’s cloak in Iliad 3. By weaving the episodes of the war Helen commits them

 46 Mineur 1984: 77; Stephens 2015a: 185 ad loc.; Hardie 2016: 114n285 views here an epinician echo, although this is not necessary. 47 For this aspect of περιτροχόω, see Stephens 2015a: 185 ad loc. Contra Mineur 1984: 76 ad loc. 48 Gigante Lanzara 1990: 78 ad loc. associates the weaving function with the ability of song to “immobilize” the attention of the audience. 49 M.L. West 2007: 36–38.

316  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos to poetic memory (125–128).50 Callimachus has a similar goal in mind. The world Callimachus’s events take place in is a universe that is not yet stable. It is in constant flux and movement. Any hope of salvaging memories of it rests in weaving them into his song and immobilizing them. Developing this metaphor in light of the narrative proper, the immobilization of the ἀοιδαί Callimachus weaves into his poetry prefigures and mirrors the actual immobilization of Delos after Apollo’s birth. In this regard, Callimachus parallels Apollo: through his birth Apollo concludes the cosmogonic process, fixing islands and locales; Callimachus replicates the acts of his patron god: he assigns fixed places to songs through weaving. Let us not forget that in Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo weaving is associated with Apollo’s building activity and concerns the creation of the Delian altar. The cosmic implications of Callimachus’s poetry or, said differently, the analogies uniting his actions to those of Apollo are Pindaric (e.g. Pythian 1; Hymn 1) as we have already seen discussing similar passages in Callimachus’s other hymns. The weaving metaphor has implications about the material that Callimachus references next. Weaving attaches Delos permanently, in a fixed connection with other material included in Callimachus’s poem. The story of Delos’s first name and her genesis was told by Pindar alone, and it is certain that Callimachus alludes to Pindar’s poems.51 The weaving metaphor that Callimachus chooses signals the connection to Pindar. The ἀοιδαί that surround Delos are not necessarily, or exclusively, just songs in the sense of relevant traditions orally transmitted. In the bookish climate of Ptolemaic Alexandria such traditions are transmitted also, if not primarily, through other textual ἀοιδαί —that is, poems and prose accounts. Pindar’s poetry is a case in point. Accordingly, Callimachus’s question to Delos

 50 Krieter-Spiro 2015: 58 on 126. 51 The connection with Pindar and Bacchylides is suggested by the ancient comment on line 28 (R. Pfeiffer 1949–1951: vol. 2, 67): “the songs of Pindar and Bacchylides” (αἱ Πινδάρου καὶ Βακχυλίδου); Cahen 1930: 152; Giuseppetti 2013: 86–97. According to Depew 1998, constant allusions to Pindaric intertexts are an indispensable part of the hymn’s discourse if the reader wishes to overcome the discontinuities inherent in it. The story of Delos is narrated in Pindar’s first hymn, Paeans 5 and 7b. Elements of the myth are also present in Paean 12; see Meillier 1995: 132; D’Alessio 2007: vol. 1, 135n11–12; Stephens 2015a: 159–162; Hardie 2016: 63–64. The presentation of Delos is indebted to that of Ithaca in the Odyssey but also of Keos in Pindar’s Paean 4: Giuseppetti 2013: 207–216. Bing (1988: 107–109n35) and Ukleja (2005: 130–131n506) detect similarities between Callimachus’s version of the myth and the creation of Rhodes in Pindar’s Olympian 7. Meillier 1994: 144–145 argues that Pindaric influence is also to be seen in the praise of Ptolemy included in Apollo’s prophecy. For the influence of Pindar’s Pythan 1, see below pp. 341–345.

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acquires further implications that prioritize Pindar’s account or accounts.52 As far as we can tell, Pindar dealt with the story of Delos twice: first, in the first hymn (probably to Apollo); and second, in Paean 7b. The absence of a relevant section in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo makes almost certain that Callimachus alludes to Pindar. The plural ἀοιδαί could reflect the several Pindaric treatments of the material. Lines 28–54 describe the story of Delos and a typical day in her life before the arrival of Apollo. In its outlines the myth presents several analogies with the myth of another sea nymph, Thetis.53 Thetis caused the feud between Poseidon and Zeus. The impasse was resolved by giving her instead to the mortal Peleus. In Iliad 24, Hera shows respect towards Thetis by offering her a golden cup and addressing words of kindess to her.54 Although the two myths differ in significant points, one establishes the following similarities: first, Delos, like Thetis, spurns the power of two major male gods, Zeus and Poseidon, thus exhibiting her autonomy; second, by refusing Zeus’s advances Delos wins the support of Hera, which grants her a certain degree of independence. Although Delos remains unmarried, she adopts the son of Leto. In Hesiod, Delos and Leto are sisters (Theogony 404– 410). Callimachus, however, does not reference this part of the traditional story. The story begins in primeval times when gods were still in the process of forming the world. Poseidon creates islands by cutting off the peaks of mountains. The mention of the Telchines indicates the great antiquity of the myth.55 The story also serves to underline the differences that set Delos apart from other islands. Delos is not “oppressed by necessity” (35). The phrasing looks forward to Peneius’s discourse to the distressed Leto at line 122 (“Necessity is a great god”). At this early point in the hymn, Callimachus establishes Delos’s ability to ignore divine, male-centered authority. Delos is free from the oppression of Zeus; similarly she frees herself from that of Poseidon. The juxtaposition motivates the story of Delos’s creation, contrasting it with that of other islands. Delos’s mobility as an island is typical of her previous mobility as a maiden, which allowed her to

 52 Callimachus shares with Pindar an interest in the pre-Apolline existence of Delos and the change of her name rather than in the birth of Apollo; cf. Depew 1998: 163, 165. 53 The parallel is noted and discussed in detail by Giuseppetti 2013: 104–107. 54 Il. 24.101–102. Hera brought up Thetis and gave her to Peleus in matrimony (24.59–63). For the Iliadic account, see Schein 2016: 108–111; Brügger 2017: 44 on 59–63. 55 One could mention here their similar role in Pindar’s Olympian 7, which could lend strength to the connection between Callimachus and this epinician Bing 1988 suggests.

318  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos flee Zeus.56 Nonetheless, a problem is created with regard to the mobility Callimachus attributes to major islands in the previous lines and to other islands that avoid Leto for fear of Hera’s retaliation. Keeping in mind the distinction that Callimachus introduces in these lines suggests that the mobility exhibited by other locations, at least during the peregrinations of Leto is highly unusual. The movement of the major islands is accepted on the grounds that the distinction between personified nymph and landmass is obfuscated. However, the movement of islands, rivers, and locations resembles the activity Callimachus associates with Poseidon. Hera’s hatred and Ares’s actions unsettle the stability of Zeus’s creation by threatening to revert to a prior phase.57 Intriguingly, it is at that very point that Delos gives up her freedom and becomes fixed, signaling the return of creation to a point of stability. Through the personal story of Delos, Callimachus tells the story of the creation of the world: Apollo through his birth re-establishes the order his father Zeus had first established.58 The story of Delos is thus intricately connected with the stabilization of Zeus’s rule. The imagery is similar to the discourse found in Pindar’s first hymn. However, unlike Pindar Callimachus does not attribute agency to Zeus, but to Delos herself. Zeus removes Hera’s anger, a faint echo of his interest in the proceedings in Paean 12. Callimachus is credited with a prose treatise on the change of names of cities, locations and islands (R. Pfeiffer 1949–1953: vol. 1, 339). Glimpses of the material he probably collected in that work appear repeatedly in the hymns. For instance, at line forty-nine Callimachus refers to the previous name of the island of Samos, Parthenie.59 Delos undergoes a similar transformation that alters not only her name but also her hypostasis. Before becoming an island, the story goes, Delos was a nymph. There is no indication as to her name, family, or residence. The implication seems to be that she resided alongside the other gods on Olympus. The only other detail that Callimachus adds is that at the time Leto had not slept with Zeus yet. This might be an allusion to Zeus’s unrequited love for the unnamed nymph, but nothing further is made of it. Fleeing Zeus’s amorous attentions, the unnamed nymph jumps into the sea, thus becoming an island. At this  56 For an allegorical interpretation of the myth of Delos’s origins, see Slings 2002: 287 “Delos as a small island of divine origin represents the small size of divine, truly inspired poetry; […].” 57 Bing 1988: 117; Giuseppetti 2013: 94. 58 For the father-son relationship, see Hardie 2016: 65–66. According to Hardie 2016: 62, the application of Zeus’s cult epithet “Kynthios” to Apollo in Pindar’s Paean 12 motivates the assimilation of Apollo to Zeus and offers a suitable parallel for the similarities between Ptolemy II Philadelphus and his father, Ptolemy I Soter. 59 Mineur 1984: 92; Gigante Lanzara 1990: 83; Stephens 2015a: 189 ad loc.

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time, the unnamed nymph acquires a new name congruent with her new status: as she falls from the sky, the nymph resembles a shooting star; accordingly she is named, “Star-like” (Asteriē).60 Even in her new abode, the nymph exhibits traits of her previous conduct—constantly fleeing the male pursuer or the gaze of male viewers such as the seafarers she encounters in various locations. It is not accidental, therefore, that Callimachus stresses the female gender of those interacting with Asteriē at this point: Samos is called Partheniē (“Virginal”) to underline her similarity to Asteriē, a similarity strengthened by the fact that both will eventually acquire different names (40, οὐδέπω ἔκλεο Δῆλος ~ 49, οὔπω γὰρ ἔην Σάμος). Additionally, Asteriē enjoys the hospitality (50, ἐξείνισσαν) of the nymphs of Mycalessos—that is, of women sharing her social and divine status. These mentions account for Asteriē’s willingness to offer hospitality herself to another nymph who is suffering male oppression, Leto.61 Asteriē is thus arrested in the age group of maidens, and accordingly her divine profile looks very similar to that of maiden goddesses such as Artemis (Hymn 3) and Athena (Hymn 5) providing a futher point of contact between Hymns 3, 4, and 5 in the collection. In addition, through her conduct, Delos escapes the fate of Demeter’s daughter, Persephone. The narrator in Hymn 6 avoids the myth of Persephone’s rape on the grounds that she does not want to cause distress to Demeter. The avoidance of the story in Hymn 6 parallels the avoidance of the similar plot (i.e. abduction of maiden by powerful god) in Hymn 4. Line 40 suggests that the anonymous nymph acquires the name Asteriē as she falls from the sky. Eventually she will exchange this name too for Delos. The passive verb ἔκλεο (“you were called”) is ambiguous with regard to the agent. In all probability, the nymph appears as a shooting star to the mortal viewers travelling across the Aegean sea, who name her accordingly. This would contrast with Pindar’s version in which Asteriē’s name is associated with the divine gaze instead.62 Even so, this assumption is rendered problematic by the consideration of lines 51–54. Despite being calling Asteriē, this name does not characterize the  60 Bing 1988: 100–101 calls attention to the difference between ἄστρον, “fixed star,” used by Pindar and ἀστήρ, “shooting star,” used by Callimachus. As a fixed point in the Aegean, Delos looks like a star to the gods in Pindar’s hymn, whereas Callimachus emphasizes Delos’s mobility even on the mortal plane; Ukleja 2005: 125. This could imply a secondary etymology from a- privative and στέρεος or στηρίζω, as Giuseppetti 2013: 96 suggests. A further divergence of Callimachus from the Pindaric version consists in the fact that prior to her stabilization Delos travels across the Aegean under the name of Ortygia; Ukleja 2005: 132–133. Callimachus is certainly acquainted with this account (e.g. Hymn 2.59) but makes no use of it in this poem. 61 This interpretation explains why Callimachus need not mention that Delos and Leto are sisters. 62 Ukleja 2005: 134–135.

320  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos island for the duration of its existence on earth prior to the birth of Apollo. On the contrary, lines 52–53 imply that Asteriē was nameless during her peregrinations, reverting to a condition of namelessness similar to that of her previous existence on Olympus. Line 53 suggests that men referred to the island as ἄδηλος (“unseen”) because she “sailed without being seen” (53, ἄδηλος ἐπέπλεες).63 With hindsight, the text problematizes the association of the name Asteriē solely with mortal gaze. The nymph may look like a shooting star if seen from the vantage point of a mortal observer on the surface of the sea. However, against the background of the sea surface, the moving island would also look like a shooting star for a divine observer looking down from Olympus. Consequently, the temporal adverb τόφρα (39, “during that time”) implies that the time frame covered by the participle οὐρανόθεν φεύγουσα (38) concerns not only her jump from Olympus but also her movement on the sea surface. The quality of being ἀστέρι ἴση (38, “like a shooting star”) covers both audiences, and underlines her fleeting identity until she is stabilized. Callimachus, futher, suggests that moving like a shooting start equals being ἄδηλος. The birth of Apollo leads to another transformation. Asteriē/Adēlos succumbs to male authority—not that of a consort, but that of a son. In this she mirrors the role of Hera having to put up with the illegitimate offspring of her husband. Despite losing her freedom, Delos maintains her virginal status.64 At this time, she acquires her new, final name: Delos (“the seen one”). The epiphany of Apollo through his birth occasions the epiphany of Delos. A hymn typically glorifies a god narrating his or her first epiphany. Callimachus stays true to this generic expectation. The fixing of Delos in the Aegean sea is a kind of epiphany that coincides with that of Apollo. Both epiphanies symbolically calm the unpheaval caused by Hera, and reestablish order in an agitated universe. Zeus’s plan is completed: Apollo is born, and the unnamed nymph is subjected to his authority at last. Delos’s jump from Olympus into the sea articulates Callimachus’s account of her early story. Such movements are known to Homer. Very often Zeus threatens to throw gods opposing him from Olympus down into the sea (Il. 14.256–257; 15.22–23). In some cases like that of Hephaestus (Il. 1.590–594) and Atē (Il. 19.130– 131), Zeus makes good on his threat.65 This was probably Pindar’s version of the

 63 As Mineur (1984: 94 on 53) points out, this refers to the irregularity of her appearances rather than to her inconspicuousness. 64 This is not the Hesiodic version in which Asteriē marries Perses and gives birth to Hecate (Theogony 409–411). 65 For the motif, see Lang 1983.

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story as well: in Paean 7b (fr. 52h Sn.-M. = C2 Rutherford) it was Zeus who hurled the nymph into the sea for refusing his advances (42–52):66 .]υνας· τί πείσομα[ι ἦ̣ Διὸς οὐκ ἐθέλο[ισα Κοίου θυγάτηρ π[ ἄπιστά μ[ο]ι δέδο[ι]κ̣α̣ κ̣α̣μ̣[ δέ μιν ἐν πέλ̣[α]γ̣[ο]ς̣ ῥιφθεῖσαν εὐαγέα πέτραν φανῆναι[· καλέ̣οντί μιν Ὀρτυγίαν ναῦται πάλαι. πεφόρητο δ’ ἐπ’ Αἰγαῖον θαμά· τᾶς ὁ κράτιστος ἐράσσατο μιχθείς τοξοφόρον τελέσαι γόνον

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What will I suffer? Said the daughter of Coeus having no desire of Zeus Things beyond belief to me I fear… Having been thrown into the sea, she appeared as a conspicuous rock. Since ancient times sailors call her Ortygia. Often she is borne across the Aegean; the most powerful one desired to lie with her and bring forward a bow-bearing son

Callimachus revises this motif, giving the initiative to the nymph instead. In this manner, Callimachus strengthens the independent profile he has fashioned for the nymph but also takes cognizance of apotheosis motifs, which were significant in Ptolemaic poetry.67 Delos proceeds to such a desperate act in her attempt to flee her pursuer and continues her flight until she falls under the protection of Apollo.68 The jump is a significant moment because it brings about a permanent cleft between Delos and the divine community. In addition, one ought to note that unlike the Pindaric version Callimachus prioritizes the mortal gaze, pushing the gods to the background. In Callimachus, the name Asteriē reflects the speed of the nymph’s jump— a point of contact with shooting starts—but also her speed and lack of visibility

 66 The Pindaric narrator expresses his disbelief in part of the story. The lacunosity of the surviving text does not allow us to glean which part of the story this concerns. See Rutherford 2001: 250–251. 67 Kampakoglou 2013b. 68 Although a man, Apollo does not pose a threat to Delos like Zeus. One could view Delos as a surrogate of Apollo’s sister; Ukleja 2005: 285–301; Giuseppetti 2013: 80.

322  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos (ἄδηλος). The contrast adēlos / dēlos that defines the nymph’s nature is applicable to mortal mariners: Delos becomes δῆλος when she gets fixed; it is not the gods who name her, but mortals (52).69 For the gods she is always δῆλος similar to a star even before the birth of Apollo, although this is never explicitly spelled out. On the contrary, Pindar emphasizes throughout the controlling role of the gods’ gaze even on the mortal plane: Asteriē is like a star only for the gods, not for mortals. Indeed if τᾶς at line fifty in Pindar’s paean is a dialectical variant of the temporal adverb τέως,70 then Asteriē’s constant travels in both Callimachus and Pindar are motivated by Zeus’s lust. These stop when Zeus falls in love with Asteriē’s sister, Leto. Pindar’s Paean 7b provides a further point of contact with Callimachus’s version. As we have already seen, the unnamed nymph goes through a double transformation: after she jumps off Olympus, she is ἀστερίη / ἄδηλος; when Apollo is born, she becomes δῆλος. The motif of double metamorphosis is borrowed from Pindar’s Paean. Lines 47–48, that is, imply a double transformation: first Asteriē transforms herself into a quail to escape Zeus, and then into an island.71 Despite these similarities, Callimachus complicates the process of Asteriē’s metamorphosis. Asteriē, as argued, highlights the differences in divine and mortal focalizations. However, it is questionable whether or not either group of viewers uses Asteriē as the name to describe her. Instead, we hear of Delos being defined in negative terms as οὐκέτ’ ἄδηλος (53). The fixing of the island unifies the point of view of mortals with that of gods and so brings the cosmogonic process implied to a completion. Callimachus associates the nymph’s growing distance from the divine realm with her attaining a new, superior status as an island, goddess nurse to Apollo. If the end-goal of apotheosis is a change in one’s ontological status and the gaining of proximity to the gods, Callimachus reverses the ideological underpinning of this structure, indicating that immortality is not locked to a specific locality (i.e. Olympus), but can happen on earth as well provided the individual in question enjoys divine benefaction. Ultimately, this revision of the traditional narrative pattern reflects positively not only on Delos, but also on Ptolemy, a god on earth. The theme of jumping into the sea as an indication of change of ontological status and acquiring of immortality appears in other poems as well.72 The Hymn to Artemis presents a similar account: the nymph Britomartis flees Minos; eventually she jumps into the sea and is trapped in the net (δίκτυ) of some fishers. Henceforward she is venerated as an aspect of Artemis, assuming the new name Dictynna (190–

 69 Ukleja 2005: 133–138. 70 Rutherford 2001: 251. 71 Rutherford 2001: 252 with n. 35. 72 Giuseppetti 2013: 104.

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200). Jumping into the sea is a common motif in stories of apotheosis: Ino, Melicertes, Hylas become divine by crossing a water barrier.73 Like Britomartis, Delos flees Zeus successfully, preserves her virginity, and acquires a new name. In terms of acquiring a new ontological status, Delos remains in the class of minor goddesses. She does, however, become an important island. In this respect, the jump of Delos reverses the mechanics of apotheosis. Apotheosis is represented as either a jump into the water or becoming a star:74 Delos jumps into the sea and in so doing resembles a star (38). Universal structures are turned upside down so as to suggest that the sea holds a position analogous to that of Olympus. Reaching the sea then means reaching a divine abode, a plane which hosts Delos, Apollo, and Ptolemy II Philadelphus. The end result of this process, however, is not maintained—or at least is not immediately clear. Callimachus artfully capitalizes on the ambiguity of motifs that are common in myths of erotic pursuit (jumping into the sea; transformation) and apotheosis stories (jumping into the sea, transformation into a star). Delos’s divinity is not immediately recognized. This happens only when she becomes fixed and permanently associated with Apollo. It is through her kourotrophic relationship with Apollo that her divinity is manifested and she becomes worthy of being praised with a hymn on par with other major Olympic gods. Along similar lines, the divinity of both Apollo and Ptolemy is recognized as a result of their victories over the Gauls. Delos’s personal story stands as an example for both younger gods. Delos’s jump from Olympus reflects her later involvement in choral performances, particularly as chorus-leader both of the islands processing to Oceanus and Tethys but also of the Cyclades dancing around her. Fashioning Asteriē as a shooting star, Callimachus develops motifs found in archaic lyric poetry. One could, for instance, associate this image of Asteriē with Alcman’s second Partheneion (PMGF 3 = 26 Calame): Ἀ[σ]τυμέλοισα δέ μ’ οὐδὲν ἀμείβεται ἀλλὰ τὸ]ν πυλεῶν’ ἔχοισα [ὥ] τις αἰγλά[ε]ντος ἀστὴρ ὠρανῶ διαιπετής Astymeloisa makes no answer to me but holding the wreath like a star falling from the shining sky

 73 Kampakoglou 2016b; Beaulieu 2016: 59–89. 74 Kampakoglou 2013b.

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324  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos Astymeloisa, usually identified as the leader of the chorus of maidens,75 is compared to an ἀστὴρ ὠρανῶ διαιπετής. As Calame (1983: 408) notes, the “splendor of Astymeloisa is here marked by the term ἀστήρ. […] As for διαιπετής, the term refers to the movement of Astymeloisa dancing.”76 If that is truly so, Asteriē’s fall would imitate a dance that she will continue performing when she reaches the sea. However, the exact movement Alcman envisions is far from clear. Traditionally, διιπετής, of which διαιπετής is a dialectical variant, describes vertical movements.77 The modifying genitive ὠρανῶ causes difficulties with this reading. On the other hand, one might connect διαι- with the preposition δια- instead and understand the adjective as describing a movement through the sky as Hutchinson (2001: 109 ad loc.) suggests. In the former reading, the adjective is to be derived from δια- and πίπτω, whereas in the latter from δια- and πέτομαι. Although the exact meaning of the epithet in Alcman is contested, Callimachus could be projecting what he understood the adjective to mean on his fashioning of Delos as part of the choreutic discourse which underlies his hymn. The association of the nymph with dancing emphasizes her erotic appeal, causing further frustration to the disappointed Zeus. At the same time, it explains her suitability to receive the god of divine choreia, Apollo, projecting this aspect of hers on the young god. After her stabilization, this performance will continue by mortal groups of dancers and her personified hypostasis, while she will be eternally locked by the Cyclades symbolically dancing around her. There is, nonetheless, a further aspect to Delos’s choreia. Delos’s strength of will and individuality, a staple of her Callimachean self, marks her out to be the chorus-leader (χορηγός). This concerns her association not only with the major islands mentioned in lines 19–21 and the Cyclades only, but also with those lands and islands that reject Leto and Apollo. Callimachus notes that Leto’s approach disturbs Thebes’s dancing (79–82). But this is an individualistic dance that lacks compassion and respect for the god of choreia. From a wider point of view, Callimachus’s hymn posits a cosmic choreia involving nymphs, Leto, Ares, and Delos. The choreography implies that the group of locales dances away from Leto who is moving aimlessly. Delos positions herself as the χορηγός by distancing herself from the reaction of the other personified nymphs towards Leto. In this regard, she not only affirms her leading role but reifies an aspect of modern conceptualization of the chorus-leader’s role: her distance and superiority over the

 75 Calame 1977: vol. 2, 91–92; Peponi 2007. 76 “Ici la splendeur d’Astyméloisa est marquée par le terme ἀστήρ. [...] Quant au terme διαιπετής, il se réfère au mouvement d’Astyméloisa marchant [...].” 77 LSJ9 s.v. “fallen from Zeus, i.e. from heaven.”

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maidens of the chorus. In most maiden songs, the chorus-leader is involved in a ritual act of some kind making an offering to the god honored:78 along similar lines Delos offers a resting place for Leto, leading a chorus of Delian nymphs, probably the daughters of the river Inōpos, that would greet the birth of Apollo. In this, as in many other aspects, Delos is the model for the mortal θεωρίαι described at the end of the hymn. An intriguing aspect of Delos is that she is continually defined in apophatic terms that obfuscate any attempt to define her identiy. Asteriē / Adēlos / Dēlos is an empty or floating signifier: the attempts to define the nymph hiding behind them, in Sausurrean terms the “signified,” are destined to fail until she becomes associated with Apollo. The signified that the various names (or “signifiers”) try to capture is slippery in a way that suggests that the floating island matches the shifty identity imposed upon the nymph by male subjects. First, Delos is defined in contrast to other islands: she is not like them in that she can move freely, whereas other islands lack such freedom. At that time, she was called Asteriē, but this is still not enough: Asteriē lives at a time that Leto has not yet slept with Zeus and is not yet known as Delos. Lines 39–40 make it clear that Asteriē of itself is not enough to capture the evancescent nature of the nymph in this phase. The floating of the island mirrors neatly the slippery signifier that is Asteriē, making this name synonymous to the adjective ἄδηλος. Language fails to represent reality accurately. ἀστέρι ἴση is ambiguous for both gods and mortals. This cognitive dissonance is made good through the fixing of the island, which now becomes perspicuous for both mortals and gods: “Delos” suggests a fixed union between signifier and signified, not possible before the birth of Apollo. The story of Delos is much more than a recherché exposition of material from Callimachus’s prose treatise and Pindar’s odes. It is the story of language as the medium that the poet uses to express himself. It is fitting that the problem of language is resolved with the birth of the patron god of poets. Callimachus’s attempt to report the early life of Delos fails. The nymph is nameless before her jump which thus becomes the moment in which she enters the world of mythology by assuming an empty name. Before this, she was nonexistent. We saw before that at line twenty-eight Callimachus matches the mobility of Delos with the mobility of the stories about her. It seems that the namelesseness of the nymph is a defining attribute of her persona and that the names themselves are condensed renditions of such accounts (ἀοιδαί). One account memorializes her as ἀστερίη; another as ἄδηλος; and another as δῆλος. The pri-

 78 Calame 1977: vol. 2, 87, 91–92; Hamilton 1989: 465; Peponi 2007: 355–356.

326  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos oritization of the final name agrees with the import of the hymn. What is important is that the unnamed nymph projects her floating maneuvers on all characters involved in the narrative to follow. Callimachus ignores the previous tradition that make Delos Leto’s sister named from the outset as Asteriē. Instead, he chooses to associate the name Asteriē with her at a later point, leaving her thus nameless. The fleeting nature of Delos is mirrored in the fleeting nature of the landscape and Leto herself. Thus Delos acquires cosmic dimensions: her fixity matches the final order of the cosmos. Apollo is thus seen as the ποιητής par excellence: composing poetry and the world at the same time. Each mortal poet imitating the divine bard reenacts the process of establishing the world afresh. The sequence of the three names ἀστερίη, ἄδηλος, δῆλος signals a gradual distancing of the nymph from the realm of the gods towards the world of the mortals. Yet, as we have already seen, eventually both ontological groups share the same perspective with regard to Delos: the island is Delos for both. Consequently as we move from one name to the other, the distance in the knowledge shared by men and gods grows smaller. Through this process Callimachus communicates the access he has to the divine storehouse of knowledge, filtered through the research he has done on the names and their changes. For the gods the nymph is like a star as she moves across the sea. Mortals get a fleeting glance of her starlike divinity as she falls from Olympus; but they do not know how she looks from high above: this is a divine prerogative. For mortals she is barely seen (ἄδηλος). Nonetheless both ontological categories agree in naming her δῆλος when Apollo is born. As the patron of poets Apollo allows access to the divine gaze through the medium of poetry. The Homeric epics preserve traces of the so-called language of gods. Leaving aside cases in which the epic bard does not disclose the mortal equivalent for a divine term (e.g. μῶλυ), in some cases Homer does present a pair of terms. The divine term shows knowledge of a past time mortals no longer have access to, bar through the Muse assisting the epic poet. Asteriē is a similar case in point. The story of Delos focalizes issues of language: fixing signifiers, combining different accounts and points of view. It does so through the namelessness of the nymph, the plurality of her names, and the difference in mortal and immortal perspectives.

Pindaric Delos Several of the aspects that characterize Callimachus’s account of Delos derive from Pindar. The Pindaric poems provide guidance to Callimachus in terms of content but also of his metapoetic agenda. Pindar returns to the myth either in detail or perfunctorily in several of his poems, especially in the Paeans. The close

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association of Apollo with this literary genre explains to a certain degree this predilection. However, the extensive treatment of the myth of Delos in Pindar’s first hymn (frr. 33c–d Sn.-M.) suggests that this connection is not exclusive. Following D’Alessio’s reconstruction of the original poem, it is clear nowadays that the mythological content of the hymn concerns the birth of Zeus’s children. This was part of the song Apollo delivered at the wedding of Cadmus and Harmonia. The section on Delos, then, is here associated with the birth of Apollo. Unlike the Homeric hymn, Pindar is the first, as far as we can tell, to associate the story of Delos with the birth of Apollo. In this respect, Pindar both in the first hymn and in Paean 7b is the major intertext for the combination that Callimachus offers in his hymn. A closer examination of the surviving Pindaric fragments reveals also a similarity in the difficulty of capturing Delos’s elusive identity. χαῖρ’, ὦ θεοδμάτα, λιπαροπλοκάμου παίδεσσι Λατοῦς ἱμεροέστατον ἔρνος, πόντου θύγατερ, χθονὸς εὐρείας ἀκίνητον τέρας, ἅν τε βροτοί Δᾶλον κικλῄσκοισιν, μάκαρες δ’ ἐν Ὀλύμπῳ τηλέφαντον κυανέας χθονὸς ἄστρον.

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Hail to you, heaven-created island, most desirable offshoot to the children of Leto with the shining tresses, daughter of the sea, immovable marvel of the broad earth, whom mortals call Delos, but the blessed gods on Olympus far-shining star of the dark earth.

Fr. 33c gives the impression that the section on Apollo’s birth assumes the form of an embedded hymn to Delos and that the birth of Apollo forms part of the hymn to the island. This would offer a neat parallel for the way in which Callimachus articulates his own hymn. However, the birth of Athena referenced in fr. 34 suggests that the hymn to Delos is only part of a more varied song rather than the exclusive focus of the divine choreia. Nonetheless, the similarities between the divine hymn and Callimachus’s version are beyond doubt. Fr. 33b–d form a unit. Fr. 33b announces the birth of Apollo in the course of time (ἐν χρόνῳ δ’ ἔγεντ’ Ἀπόλλων). The attribution of this line to the hymn is debated. However, assuming that it derives from the hymn, fr. 33b gives a succinct transition to the birth of Apollo that is then developed in full in fr. 33c. This interpretation suggests that the praise of Delos coincides with that of Apollo. So far the technique that Pindar employs seems to prefigure in full that of Callimachus in the fourth hymn.

328  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos The χαῖρε formula is a generic index that marks the transition to the embedded hymn to Delos.79 The articulation of the first three lines exhibits a difficulty in defining the true identity of Delos. In a typical hymn, the χαῖρε formula is followed by an address to the god praised and by a list of the god’s attributes (the aretalogia). The aretalogia is then followed by a myth that celebrates the first, archetypal manifestation of the god’s divinity. In the case of Delos, as we have already seen in discussing Callimachus’s hymn, this coincides with becoming fixed in the Aegean after having received Leto and her son on her soil. From this point of view, fr. 33c offers the list of Delos’s attributes. We saw above that, in presenting the various name-phases through which Delos transitions, Callimachus distances the reader from the world of the divine. The final name “Delos” fixes the identity of the nymph-island permanently in a way that transcends ontologocial barriers: gods and mortals are agreed in the way in which they call the island. A similar list can be found in Pindar’s fragments and offers the model for that of Callimachus. The address to Delos is elusive and ambiguous: Delos is the “offshoot (ἔρνος) most desirable to the children of Leto.” By bringing Leto into the picture, Pindar defines the island in the context of Leto’s peregrinations and the birth of Artemis and Apollo. Pindar does not allow, at least not in this version, for the earliest phase in which Delos is a personified nymph. From the very beginning, Delos is conceptualized in her island form. But even so, Pindar wavers allowing for the anthropomorphized form: θεοδμάτα, θύγατερ, and χθονός … τέρας interact in an ambiguous manner, oscillating between Delos as a nymph and an island. This ambiguity in the depiction of Delos matches the ambiguity between personified nymphs and river-gods we also find in Callimachus’s hymn. Etymologically θεόδμητος can describe anything created by gods (e.g. a city Il. 8.519). However, Pindar employs the adjective also in a metaphorical way to describe anything god-given or instigated by divine action (e.g. debt Ol. 3.7; freedom Pyth. 1.61; excellence Isthm. 6.11). Accordingly, θεοδμάτα is a succinct description of the story of Delos’s transformation, a part of the story upon which Pindar does not elaborate. Delos is not divinely created. She could not be: as Callimachus points out, Delos differs from all other islands in that she was not created through Poseidon’s action. Describing her then as divinely-created would be wrong. Pindar implies, in all probability, that Delos became an island at the instigation of Zeus’s actions.

 79 Callimachus’s address to Delos is modeled after this one; Depew 1998: 164; Giuseppetti 2013: 92.

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Lines fr. 33c.3–4 situate Delos in a cosmic context, against the background provided by the chiasmus πόντου θύγατερ and χθονός … τέρας. In Callimachus Delos is the absent signifier, the entity that one cannot talk about in positive terms, only in negative ones. Accordingly, Callimachus stresses what Delos is not. Pindar opts for a different technique that, nonetheless, conveys the tensions that are created by Delos’s indefinable nature. Pindar presents Delos in terms of opposites: Delos is associated with both sea and land. Both Pindar and Callimachus deviate from the Hesiodic account, according to which Delos was the daughter of the Titan Koios and sister of Leto.80 The description of Delos as “daughter of the sea” may indicate her change of status: from now on Delos is counted among sea-nymphs or indicate her transformation by jumping into the sea. Several details in Pindar’s description may allude to the myth of transformation. The association of Delos with land is more ambiguous and returns to the polar opposites that Delos combines in her own existence. From the antithesis sea versus land, Pindar transitions to one embedded within the section that concerns land. Delos is an “object of marvel,” a τέρας. What exactly is that causes amazement is ambiguous and depends on the interaction of τέρας with the genitive “of broad earth” and the adjective ἀκίνητον (“immobile”).81 Depending on how one groups these words, a different gaze, one mortal and one immortal, emerges that underlines the impossibility of definining Delos accurately. The syntactical function of the genitive χθονὸς εὐρείας is best explained by the similar combination κυανέας χθονὸς ἄστρον at line 6 (“star of dark earth”). In both cases, the genitive explains the kind of star or marvel Delos is. In this reading, Delos is a marvel of broad earth or in that she is broad earth—in both cases “broad earth” should be taken generally as describing land. But why would Delos’s island-form cause marvel to humans? Only gods knew her prior to her transformation. Consequently, the materiality of Delos as island causes the marvel of the divine spectators looking upon Delos from above. Along similar lines, her immobility constrasts strongly with the nimbleness she demonstrated in the past. Seen from the mortal plane, though, the marvel that is Delos does not consist in her materiality as an island, but rather in the very attribute of immobility. Humans viewers are  80 Pindar calls Delos “daughter of Koios (Pae. 7b.44), but it is not clear that he means that Delos is also Leto’s sister. Callimachus drops the link altogether to throw into relief Delos’s independence of mind; Bing 1988: 107. 81 As Ukleja 2005: 138–139 points out, Pindar is more interested in Delos’s immobility. This could reflect local lore about Delos not being afflicted by earthquakes. Callimachus could retain this detail through the exclusion of Ares from the island. Since Ares’s epiphany is manifested in seismic activity, his exile from Delos conveys that Delos is impregnable to his seismic onslaughts.

330  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos surprised by the fact that Delos is not the floating island they knew. Pindar confuses temporal sequence. Instead of providing a neat succession of phases through which Delos goes, he presents one static scene that includes references to parts of the story not mentioned explicitly. The validity of this interpretation is borne out by two considerations: first, by the following lines which insist on the different appellations used by gods and mortals respectively; second, by the presence of fr. 33d. We do not know how many lines have been lost between fr. 33c and fr. 33d. But it seems certain that the disgression introduced by γάρ in fr. 33d explains the immobility that Delos has recentely acquired. Fr. 33c concludes with the two distinct appellations that reflect two different points of view. Pindar gives the impression that the gap between gods and mortals with regard to Delos is never bridged, but this is not so. Despite the difference in the terms used, both name-givers agree in that Delos demonstrates ἀκινησία (“immobility”), which thus becomes a defining attribute of the island after Apollo’s birth. For the gods, Delos is a “star of dark land shining from afar,” an explanation of “Asteriē” without an accompanying aition. For mortals, she is Delos. Pindar’s account presents Asteriē as being synonymous to δῆλος, not to ἄδηλος as in Callimachus. Thus Pindar stays closer than Callimachus to the Homeric structures of divine language, providing a divine (Asteriē) and mortal (Dēlos) appellation. Pindar posits a common anterior phase which he describes as ἄδηλος, whilst Callimachus posits a common posterior phase which he describes as δῆλος.82 Both Pindar and Callimachus agree that Delos puts to the test the limits of linguistic description and defies neat categorizations. Ultimately, Delos stands for poetry itself, which is fixed by Apollo, the archetypal poet. The floating tradition is fixed permanently by offering attributes to this tradition. The process of name giving does not exclude plurality as the case of the double name demonstrates since it allows knowledge of the one true quality: the signified represented by Delos’s fixity. Pindar stresses eternal seperation (Asteriē ~ Delos), something which agrees with his ne plus ultra thesis in most of his victory songs. Callimachus, by contrast, emphasizes unity allowing for the blurring of categories between traditional and new gods (Ptolemy). The embedded hymn to Delos concludes with fr. 33d Sn.-M. The surviving lines describe in the staccato style typical of Pindaric narrative the floating of Delos, the arrival of Leto, and the miraculous fixing of the island at the time of Apollo’s birth. Some structural points show similarities to Callimachus’s hymn,  82 Since Asteriē has different implications for gods and mortals, it cannot be considered common to both.

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strenghthening the interpretation that frr. 33c–d are among Callimachus’s intertexts. Taken together frr. 33b*–d Sn.-M. suggest that the section on Apollo’s birth is demarcated by means of a ring composition. The praise of Delos is associated closely with the story of Leto. Fr. 33c Sn.-M. narrates in an allusive style the first phases of Delos’s story that are then explicated in more detail in fr. 33d. The interaction of fr. 33c Sn.-M. with fr. 33d Sn.-M. prefigures that between lines 28–54 and the main mythological narrative in Callimachus’s hymn. In both cases, the narrator gives a brief account of the story in basic outlines only to flesh it out later. The device is used often by Pindar, with Pythian 4 offering a fine example of it. As a further parallel between the two versions one may mention that neither Pindar nor Callimachus references the Asteriē part of the story in the elaborate reworking that follows the perfunctory allusion. Both poets explore the possibilities that naming Delos allows them to experiment with the limits of language as a medium of artistic creativity. The importance of frr. 33b*–d for Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos corroborates our previous assertion regarding the prominence of Pindaric intertexts in the opening lines of the hymn. The lack of a proper hymn to Delos in the corpus of Homeric hymns allows Callimachus to experiment creatively by combining the Delian part of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo with Pindar’s lyric poems. In this regard, Callimachus distances himself from Homer, and, as we saw above, states his independence by rectifying the mistake that is the absence of a hymn to Delos. But even this attitude derives from Pindar’s own treatment of the Delian material in Paean 7b.11–20. Traces from the first ten lines suggest that the poet addresses Apollo and his mother Leto. Line eleven effects a transition to a metapoetic statement, the connection of which to what comes before or immediately after is far from clear. Κελαδ⸤ήσαθ’ ὕμ⸥νους, Ὁμήρου [δὲ μὴ τρι]π̣τὸν κατ’ ἀμαξιτόν ἰόντες, ἀ̣[ ~ 5 ἀλ]λοτρίαις ἀν’ ἵπποις, ἐπεὶ αυ[ π]τανὸν ἅρμα Μοισα[ ]μεν. ἐ]πεύχο[μαι] δ’ Οὐρανοῦ τ’ εὐπέπˈλῳ θυγατρὶ Μναμ[ο]σύ[ν]ᾳ κόραισί τ’ εὐμαχανίαν διδόμεν. τ]υφλα̣[ὶ γὰ]ρ ἀνδρῶν φρένες, ὅ]στις ἄνευθ’ Ἑλικωνιάδων βαθεῖαν ε..[..].ων ἐρευνᾷ σοφίας ὁδόν. Sing hymns not moving in Homer’s worn-out path but … on others’ horses for … the winged chariot

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332  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos Muse … I pray to the beautifully-veiled daughter of Ouranos and the daughters of Mnemosyne to grant me skill in devising means. For the minds of those men are blind, whosoever without the Muses of Helicon explores the rich path of poetry.

Several of the details in the imagery that Pindar employs are well-known to readers of Callimachus from the Aetia prologue. There is a general agreement among scholars that Callimachus patterns his own terminology with motifs and lexical items he found in Pindar. In particular, the members of Pindar’s chorus (note the plural ἰόντες at line twelve) proclaim their determination to stay away from the well-trodden (τρι]π̣τὸν) thoroughway of Homer. The lacuna of line twelve has been supplemented variously providing a range of interpretations.83 The most common interpretation represented by D’Alessio (1995) and Rutherford (2001) underlines the independence of the chorus from the version of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo regarding the story of Delos. The members of the chorus proclaim that they will not proceed on someone else’s (presumably Homer’s) chariot. The chorus then prays to Mnemosyne and the Muses to provide them with εὐμαχανίαν (“[poetic] capability, resource”; cf. Slater 1969 s.v.) to sing their own version. As Maslov (2015: 94–99) explains, appeals to the Muses equal a statement of purpose: Pindar indicates that he will provide an account different from that current in oral epic tradition, referenced in this context as “Homer.” In its only other occurrence in Pindar, εὐμηχανίη refers to the Isthmian victory of Melissos and its revealing the wealth of material at Pindar’s disposal and the ease of celebrating the victor and his family.84 In the context of Paean 7b, the meaning is not immediately clear. The following lines (18–20) continue on antithetical terms: whoever searches the deep path of wisdom (i.e. poetic skill) needs the guidance of the Muses; otherwise he would resemble a man of blind mind. The reference to the blindness of mind could be seen as a slight to the blind bard from Chios of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo (172–173). The reuse of the image of path (σοφίας ὁδόν) suggests the continuity of the discourse. Pindar embeds his version in the tradition hallowed by the name of the Muses, even if this does not agree with his major intertext. True to the working of an oral society, Pindar constructs his image in terms of

 83 See Rutherford 2001: 247–249 for a discussion of the various options. 84 Isthm. 3/4.20: Privitera 1982: 172–173 on 2–3.

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rivalry with other poets.85 By attacking Homer, Pindar invites the admiration of his audience. However what does he call attention to? What is the quality that helps Pindar distance himself from Homer? And what is its significance for Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos? With approximately twenty lines missing from the middle section of the poem, it is difficult to draw certain conclusions regarding the particulars of Pindar’s attack on Homer. In lack of a better alternative, most readers associate the metapoetic statement with the narrative about Delos.86 The Delian part of the poem survives relatively intact with only three lines (54–57) missing from the end of the poem. The myth comprises parts of the myth as we know it from Callimachus, but not from other Pindaric versions. Pindar acknowledges the Hesiodic genealogy representing Delos as Koios’s daughter and Leto’s sister. Delos rejects Zeus’s attentions; she was hurled into the sea and transformed into an island. The name given to the floating island is Ortygia, a detail that Callimachus references in the Hymn to Apollo (59). Line fifty marks the transition to the story of Leto, whose attitude contrasts with that of her sister. The juxtaposition offers the model for Callimachus’s similar juxtaposition in lines 38–39. The story probably concludes with the birth of Apollo: a ring composition is thus achieved—the poet returns to Apollo, already mentioned at the opening of the poem. There are striking similarities between the versions Pindar offers in his first hymn and Paean 7b: both are structured in ring composition; both associate the praise of Delos with Leto and conclude with the birth of Apollo. There is, however, a difference in emphasis. The hymn focuses on the effect that Apollo’s birth has on Delos, juxtaposing it with that of Zeus’s actions. The creation of Delos is thus seen against the background of Zeus’s cosmogonic acts. The rooting of Delos is part of the process that stabilizes Zeus’s authority over the cosmos. The version of Paean 7b concerns the pair of Delos and Leto and their differences. Both sisters were loved by Zeus. Asteriē spurns her divine lover, while Leto succumbs to Zeus’s advances. And yet, it would seem, despite her independence of spirit Asteriē performs a role in Zeus’s grand plan as a place for Leto to give birth.87 Both these themes (cosmogonic discourse; juxtaposition of Delos with Leto) are prominent in Callimachus’s version. Pindar finds difficulty with believing one aspect of the story of Asteriē. It is unclear whether this concerns Asterie’s rejection of Zeus and Pindar’s going

 85 Ong 2012: 43–45. 86 Bing 1988: 105; Rutherford 2001: 250–252. 87 Rutherford 2001: 251.

334  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos along with this, or with Asterie’s jump and subsequent transformation into an island:88 ἄπιστά μ[ο]ι δέδο[ι]κ̣α̣ κ̣α̣μ̣[ δέ μιν ἐν πέλ̣[α]γ̣[ο]ς̣ ῥιφθεῖσαν εὐαγέα πέτραν φανῆναι[·

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Things beyond belief to me I fear… Having been thrown into the sea, she appeared as a conspicuous rock.

The point of the criticism is difficult to recover. The cause of fear is also not clear although it could be Asteriē’s fear of Zeus. The sequence of thought might suggest that Pindar cannot believe the transformation of the nymph into an island. Unlike the account in the first hymn, in this poem Asteriē is the name of the nymph prior to her transformation. The name that she acquires after that, Ortygia, is again attributed to seafarers. If Ortygia is indeed derived from ὄρτυξ (“quail”), the name could reflect the size of the island or even its mobility. The sequence Asteriē/ Ortygia/Dēlos is thus guaranteed for this version, which does not seem to be concerned at all with the nymph’s state of being ἄδηλος. The surviving last lines of this poem suggest that Delos was meant to be the mother of Apollo all along. The juxtaposition of the two sisters suggest that Leto replaces Asteriē as the intended mother of Apollo and Asteriē fulfills her role, always according to Zeus’s plan, by rearing the young god. This would then account for Callimachus’s focus on the nymph’s kourotrophic role in Hymn 4. Paean 7b prioritizes establishing the credentials of the Pindaric version against the previous Homeric tradition. This trope offers a plausible parallel for Callimachus’s similar charting of his own place in the traditions about Delos. Traces from the opening of the paean, such as the addresses to Apollo and Leto (1–3), the mention of paean (4) and wreaths (5) imply that the Delian triad was the focus of the praise discourse, while the myth related to Delos. This combination replicates the combination of praise of Leto and her son with a myth about Delos in the Delian part of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. This interpretation, if correct, provides another reason for Pindar’s need to safeguard his individuality, while embedding himself in the epic tradition. The resonance of Pindar’s metapoetic statement in Callimachus’s poetry strengthens the importance of this poem for Callimachus’s hymn.

 88 Rutherford 2001: 250–251 is in favor of the latter.

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The Μain Μythological Νarrative The mythological narrative that follows the story of Delos reintroduces an element already mentioned in passing in lines 50–54, treating it in more detail. The section focuses on the role of Hera and how her involvement influences the fate of Leto and subsequently of Delos herself. Neither of Pindar’s two versions registers the role of Hera. Callimachus probably patterns his Hera on the twofold role she plays in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. Hera, first, keeps the goddess of birth on Olympus delaying the birth of Apollo (97–101). Leto’s supporting goddesses need to send Iris to get Eilythyia to help Apollo’s mother. Callimachus pointedly reverses this scene by associating Iris with Hera instead. Hera also gives birth to Typhon, who was reared by the Pythian dragoness Apollo kills before establishing his oracle (305–355). The inset story of Typhon parallels that of Python, and Hera’s violent reaction to the birth of Athena is a doublet of her response to Leto’s pregnancy.89 Regarding Athena’s birth, the narrator specifies that Hera reacts out of anger because she feels that Zeus’s decision to bear Athena by himself has wounded her honor. Hephaestus is no match for Athena because of his crippleness. So, Hera gives birth to a son that could dethrone Zeus, Typhon.90 Callimachus reflects both themes. Leto is able to give birth only after Hera has pardoned Delos, and Zeus has removed Hera’s anger. There is no indication that Hera prevents the goddess of birth. Still, Hera’s attitude was blocking the birth of Apollo as if she were actually holding Eilythyia captive. Hera’s cosmic insubordination and the threat that her offspring posits to the reign of Zeus is referenced in the main part of the hymn before the birth of Apollo. Thus, Callimachus rearranges the order of Hera’s actions in the Homeric hymn. In addition, elaborating on the motifs of the Typhon story, Callimachus offers a unique account that reflects main themes of his hymn. Specifically, the birth of Apollo means that Ares, Hera’s son, is relegated to a lower position in his father’s affections.91 The language used echoes the dynastic wars between the gods. The clash between Zeus and Typhon is the last hurdle in Zeus’s path to world supremacy. The tradition is already known in Hesiod’s Theogony. Ares is never envisioned as a serious contender for Zeus’s throne, but Athena is. Behind Hera’s complaint about the birth of Athena in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo lies the prophecy that

 89 J. Clay 2006: 63–74; N.J. Richardson 2010: 96–97 ad loc.; 125–127. 90 J. Clay 2006: 68. 91 Hera’s anger at the demotion of Ares reflects the influence of succession myths; Bing 1988: 115. Hera’s sons generally hold an inferior position to those of Zeus’s by other women; J. Clay 2006: 68.

336  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos Metis’s son would grow stronger than Zeus.92 Zeus contains the danger by swallowing his wife (Theogony 886–900). Hera provides a similar threat through Typhon. Callimachus works a double replacement. Modifying material he found in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo he replaces Apollo for Athena and Ares for Typhon. The poet of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo employs the clash between Zeus and Typhon as an archetype for Apollo’s victory over the Pythian dragon. However, the birth of Apollo does not threaten the rule of Zeus. Apollo upholds the rule of Zeus, and this is an aspect of the god that Callimachus emphasizes. Since Apollo’s defeat of the Pythian dragon is not developed in the Hymn to Delos, Callimachus opts for another technique to convey the threat that Hera poses to the stability of the cosmos through the actions of her own son, Ares. Hera’s anger is not directed against Zeus, as in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, but against his son in a motif that is well-known from the mythology of Heracles.93 Yet the threat that Hera’s agents pose is all-inclusive and threatens Zeus as well. Leto’s perambulations in search of a place where she can give birth to her son articulate the main part of the hymn. The catalogue of locations that is thus created parallels a similar list found in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. Still, there is an important difference. The list of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo enumerates places that have some cultic affinity to Apollo.94 Callimachus reverses the semantic value of the list without, however, compromising its rhetorical efficacy. To be more specific, Callimachus does not list places that host Apollo’s cult centers; rather, he offers a catalogue of places that fail to offer hospitality to Leto. This negative list allows the god to demonstrate his power by punishing those who have insulted his mother. The story-pattern is also known from Euripides’s Bacchae and is appropriate in narratives in which a new god is trying to establish his divine credentials. A particular case in point is the threats that Apollo directs to Thebes. In addition to this function, the catalogue also celebrates the uniqueness of Delos, who alone amidst so many local nymphs and river-gods dares Hera’s displeasure and offers shelter to Leto. Hera’s threats are conveyed through the presence of two agents, Ares and Iris. This expedient allows Callimachus to articulate the myth in two sections: one regards Leto’s peregrinations on land; the other, on the islands. In this way, the poet situates Delos’s uniquess against the two poles reflected by land and sea as in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo and Pindar’s first hymn. Both sections present the same structure with the result that patterns of parallels emerge. Surprisingly,  92 J. Clay 2006: 70. 93 For Hera’s jealousy of Zeus’s sons, see J. Clay 2006: 42–43. 94 Allen, Halliday, and Sikes 1936: 205 on 30; 227 on 179–206.

The Μain Μythological Νarrative  337

Leto’s peregrinations start in the middle of the Peloponnese in Arcadia. No reason is offered for this choice. One may view this as a reference to the Hymn to Zeus: Zeus was born in Arcadia before being moved to Crete. Similarly, Leto starts her journey in Arcadia and ends it on another island, Delos. From Arcadia, Leto bypasses Argos, which is Hera’s domain, and moves north-east to Corinth. Her next stop is Boeotia—Athens is omitted again without any plausible reason. The first sequence halts at Thebes: here Apollo delivers his first speech from his mother’s womb prophesying his punishment of Niobe and her children. Apollo also references the founding of his oracle at Delphi, which includes the mention of Apollo’s future defeat of the Pythian dragon. Leto turns south again, heading to Achaea and from there back to Thessaly which represents the northernmost boundary of her movements in mainland Greece. The second sequence stops with Leto’s plea to the river-god Peneius. Despite the threats of Ares, Peneius offers help to Leto, but she declines. Callimachus then passes to the second section that includes the islands. From Thessaly Leto moves to the islands of the Ionian sea and from there she miraculously lands in the Aegean on Kos. Apollo’s prophecy is the device that concludes this third sequence. The second prophecy includes two elements: Apollo punishing the Gallic invaders and Ptolemy killing the Gallic mercenaries. Following Apollo’s directions, Leto directs her step to Delos who happened to be nearby. Delos, like Peneius in the first section, addresses a speech to Leto welcoming her on her soil. The section concludes with the birth of Apollo. Tab. 3: The symmetrical arrangement of Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos 70–214 Ares (Land)

Iris (Sea)

First Sequence (Arcadia to Boetia), –

Third Sequence (Corfu to Kos), –

Apollo’s first prophecy, –: (a) killing of the Delphic dragon; (b) punishment of Niobe and of her children

Apollo’s second prophecy, –: (a) repelling of Gallic invaders (b) Ptolemy’s victory over the Gallic mercenaries

Second Sequence (Achaea to Thessaly), – Fourth Sequence (Euboia to Cyclades), – Peneius offers help to Leto, –

Delos offers help to Leto, –.

The symmetry is meticulous. Two sets of direct discourses punctuate the sections describing the peregrinations of Leto and Delos. The fourth sequence (195–202) does not concern Leto but Delos’s movement from Euboia to the center of the Cyclades where she obviously intercepts Leto. Lines 195–202 cover Leto’s journey from Kos, the easternmost end of her peregrinations, back westwards towards

338  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos Greece—cf. the parallel movement back and forth between Thebes, Achaea, and Thessaly. In this way, Callimachus underlines the formal parallels between the perambulations of Delos and Leto, both of which come to an end with the birth of Apollo. The analogy could echo their juxtapositions qua sisters and objects of Zeus’s erotic attention in Pindar’s Paean 7b. There is also a formal analogy between the roles played by Peneius and Delos in their willingness to assist Leto. Although Leto could have taken Peneius up on his offer, she declines to do so out of consideration for him: giving birth on the banks of the river would mean his destruction by Ares. The interaction between Leto and Peneius presents several points of contact with the Hymn to Zeus.95 That Leto should seek help to give birth to her son by a river is hardly remarkable. As Peneius himself admits (123–124) this is quite common. Within the book of Callimachus’s hymns this scene presents analogies with Rhea’s request to Gaia for help: rivers are thus created and Rhea is able to wash her son. Leto’s efforts are thwarted by Hera through Ares reversing the imagery used in the Hymn to Zeus. The birth of Zeus leads to the creation of rivers that alter the Arcadian landscape by curing the original drought of the landscape. Ares threatens to reverse this by subduing Peneius’s stream. Consequently, the birth of Apollo would not lead to the creation of water bodies, a benefaction to the local populace, but cause drought. Peneius reflects that such an outcome would render him ἀτιμότατος (131) “most dishonorable” among rivers—the phrasing recalls Thetis’s request to Zeus in Iliad (1.516).96 Despite that, Peneius musters the courage to asisst the suppliant: Leto maintains the status quo by releasing the river from his formal obligation towards her. The parallels between the birth of Zeus as represented in the Hymn to Zeus and that of Apollo’s would-be birth by Peneius imitates the analogous parallel found in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. This concerns the defeat of Typhon and Python respectively. Cosmic implications permeate the scene of Leto’s discourse with Peneius. Susan Stephens (2003: 96–102) has cogently suggested that the creation of rivers in Callimachus’s first hymn translates into Greek terms the annual rising of the Nile: an event of crucial importance in establishing the cosmic aspect of Egyptian kingship. The king guarantees the stability of his realm annually by enabling the rising of the Nile, which was represented as a defeat of drought, associated in this hymn with Ares. Apollo could have done this in Thessaly, but he is defeated in his first attempt by Ares. Peneius’s phrasing of the threat Ares poses

 95 Ukleja 2005: 92–95. 96 Mineur 1984: 147 ad loc.

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creates connections to two important passages in the hymn. By means of these intratextual references, the episode of Peneius can be seen in a new light. According to Peneius, Ares threatens to eradicate the river from his bed (127, βυσσόθεν ἐξερύσειε). This would cause drought by the disappearance of the water (130, διψαλέην ἄμπωτιν). Even so, Peneius accepts the inevitable. The use of ἠρώησε (“pulled back”) at 133 is significant: as at Theocritus 13.74, this verb recalls strongly the Greek word for hero (ἥρως).97 By accepting the prospect of his demise, Peneius shows his heroic quality. This causes Ares’s reaction, who developing the heroic potential of the scene prepares for a fight with the river-god. Before we discuss in detail the gestures of Ares and their Pindaric relevance, let us consider his intention as Callimachus describes it in lines 134–135: Ares threatens to cut the peaks of the Pangaion and hurl them on Peneius, covering his stream. In the Hymn to Zeus, by contrast, Gaia reveals subterranean streams. Ares reverses the discourse typical at the birth of a beneficent god. Within the Hymn to Delos, Ares’s threat would repeat the creation of islands by Poseidon in lines 30– 35. Note especially the parallel between βυσσόν (34) and βυσσόθεν. Ares disturbs the creation by threatening to revert to a previous phase in the genesis of the world.98 Poseidon’s act does not threaten the rule of Zeus: islands are created in the sea; by constrast, Ares threatens to destroy a river, which provides life to people. Ares is thus seen as a chaotic agent associated with drought and earthquakes.99 Consequently, the episode reflects well-known basic tenets of Ptolemaic royal ideology. Trying to excuse himself to Leto, Peneius declares that he is acting under necessity, a great goddess. This comment recalls Callimachus’s comment about the creation of Delos at line 35: Delos is not pressed by necessity. Peneius finds himself in a different situation, pressed, like most islands, by Hera and her agent. He tries to behave like Delos and this suggests his heroic quality that is rightly appreciated by Leto. This correspondence lends strength to our previous comment about Ares’s perverting the actions of Poseidon. On the other hand, the analogy between Peneius and Delos adds a further correspondence between Ares’s threats and the birth of Apollo on Delos. Ares thwarts the benefactions of Apollo in Thessaly. These are fulfilled, however, on Delos. The birth of Apollo leads to

 97 Hunter 1999: 288 ad loc. 98 Hardie 2016: 82. 99 Ares threatens to treat Peneius no differently from the way Apollo treats Telphousa in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo (382–387). Still, the Homeric narrator attributes egotistical motives to Telphousa who antagonizes Apollo (275–276; 379–381); J. Clay 2006: 60. On the contrary, Peneius is motivated by his commiseration with an ailing pregnant woman.

340  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos the rising of the Delian river Inopos. It was believed that the river was subterraneously linked with the Nile.100 Without a doubt, then, the scene recasts in Greek terms the rise of the Nile in all its royal context. The birth of Apollo is thus seen not only as the first epiphany of the new god. It reinstates the order established by Apollo’s father in the first hymn. The rising of Inopos and the gilding of Delos are signs of the boons that divine benefactions can bring. Since Apollo himself establishes the parallel between his birth and that of Ptolemy on Kos, Callimachus also implies the beneficent aspect of Ptolemy’s rule for his subjects. The chaotic associations that permeate Ares are strengthened by references to Pindar’s representation of Typhon in Pythian 1.101 In addition to this, a further Pindaric element in the representation of Ares concerns the perversion of the choreia motif that is central to Pindar’s imagery in Pythian 1. The description of Ares’s reaction to Peneius’s offer of help to Leto contains elements that recall cosmic battles. ἐσμαράγησεν in line 136 is typically used of Zeus’s thunder and the resounding noise it creates: ὑψόθε δ᾽ ἐσμαράγησε καὶ ἀσπίδα τύψεν ἀκωκῆι.102 At Iliad 21.199 the verb conveys Zeus’s superiority over Oceanus in the hypothetical fight between the two that Achilles posits in his discourse to Scamander.103 The Iliadic use is relevant since the imminent clash between Ares and Peneius also acquires the symbolic aspect of the clash between fire (Ares) and water (Peneius). In addition to this passage, Callimachus also recalls the Hesiodic description of the Titanomachy in the Theogony:104 γῆ δὲ μέγ’ ἐσμαράγησεν, ἐπέστενε δ’ οὐρανὸς εὐρὺς σειόμενος, πεδόθεν δὲ τινάσσετο μακρὸς Ὄλυμπος ῥιπῇ ὕπ’ ἀθανάτων

(680)

The earth resounded greatly, while the broad sky groaned shaking, and tall Olympus quaked from its foundation under the onslaught of the immortal gods

The verb is here associated with the reaction of earth, not the sky. But one should also note the mention of Olympus that parallels that of Ossa at 137. In both cases the action of a god causes the shaking of a mountain. In a way, the struggle of  100 Stephens 2015a: 213 on 206–208. See also Stephens 2003: 117–118. 101 Giuseppetti 2013: 193–195. 102 Mineur 1984: 149; Gigante Lanzara 1990: 112–113 ad loc. 103 N.J. Richardson 1993: 69 ad loc. also points out the parallel with the Hesiodic Titanomachy (Theog. 679, 693). 104 Giuseppetti 2013: 194 suggests a connection between Callimachus’s depiction of Ares and that of Typhon in the Hesiodic Theogony 853–868.

The Μain Μythological Νarrative  341

Ares with Peneius replicates on a smaller scale that between the gods and the Titans. Ares once again perverts the actions of his father, threatening the status quo of the cosmos in a manner similar to that of the Titans. This interpretation is strengthened by two more elements. The preparation of Ares is depicted in performative terms: Ares imitates the warrior gesture of hitting his shield with his spear. The noise is supposed to inspire fear. Nonetheless it is also rhythmic and resembles the enoplios. Indeed, Thessaly is said to “dance in fear.” The use of ὠρχήσατο (139, “danced”) contrasts with the reaction of Ossa and the Crannonion field (137, “shook” ἔτρεμε). By shaking, the surrounding locales answer to the rhythm of Ares’s movements in the manner of a choral performance.105 The ambiguity between locations and their personified nymphs allows Callimachus to blur the image, allowing us to see the nymphs of Thessaly following Ares, who thus acts as their chorus-leader. Returning to a point we made in the previous chapter about the proem of Pythian 1, and taking into view the intertextual connection between Hymn 4 and Pythian 1, Ares’s spear and shield replace the lyre of Apollo and the Muses. But the function of Ares’s weapons is the same. The βάσις, “steps” (Pythian 1.2), of Thessaly obeys the sounds produced by the god of war. Armed dancing recurs throughout the hymns.106 In the first hymn the Couretes dance in full armor to cover Zeus’s cries. A similar dance is performed by the Theran men who colonize Cyrene and the Amazons of Ephesus celebrating the cult of Artemis. In all these cases, the dance defines the dancers in their double identity as warriors and devotees of the god. Ares’s mimetic dance underscores his status as a warrior but the implications are negative.107 The seismic activity caused by Ares’s dance parallels the eruption of Etna (140–47). The perversion of the positive model that is the armed choreia of other hymns as well as the inclusion of Etna point to the imagery of Pythian 1.108 We have already seen that the music of the divine choreia led by Apollo puts to sleep even Ares. By contrast, the divine choreia causes the violent reaction of Typhon trapped under Etna, which in turn causes volcanic activity. The imagery is retained in its outlines in Callimachus’s hymn. Ares here assumes the role of Apollo’s opponent, and is the one who performs a choreia that distorts that of  105 For dance as disruptive force, see Lonsdale 1993: 76–110. These dances concern, as a rule, Dionysus, not Ares. 106 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012: 112. For weapon dances, see Lawler 1964: 107–108, 123– 124; Lonsdale 1993: 137–168. 107 As Hardie (2016: 83) points out, Ares’s musical epiphany contrasts strongly with the harmony associated later in the hymn with Apollo’s birth/first epiphany. 108 Bing 1988: 123; Giuseppetti 2013: 193–194.

342  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos Apollo: instead of expressing the supremacy of his father, Ares’s choreia recalls the insubordination of powers opposing Zeus whether it is Oceanus in Achilles’s hypothetical theogony or the Titans in Hesiod’s account. The effect this choreia has on nature is similar to that Apollo produces in Pythian 1 through Typhon’s reaction. However, in Callimachus’s hymn the connection is based on affiliation rather than opposition as in Pythian 1: Ares, unlike Apollo, is on the side of chaos rather than on that of Zeus. Thus, Ares appropriates aspects of Typhon’s persona in Pindar’s Pythian 1. The genitive τυφομένοιο at line 141 is a pointed allusion to the version according to which Typhon is trapped underneath Etna.109 Callimachus varies the Pindaric scene by aligning his poem with a variant tradition that localized Hephaestus’s workplace in the same place. Pindar refers to the “springs of Hephaestus that the serpent (i.e. Typhon) brings forth” (Pythian 1.25).110 Callimachus talks of Hephaestus’s fire-tongs (144). The sound is not produced by Typhon changing sides, but by Briareus as he is working on his artifacts. Briareus is one of the onehundred-handed giants that assisted Zeus.111 In Iliad 1 he protects Zeus from the insurrection of the Olympian gods. Briareus’s presence in this context problematizes the actions of Ares since Briareus is a supporter of Zeus. Scholars point out that Callimachus identifies here Typhon with Briareus.112 This may well be so, but a certain irony emerges when the reader considers the Homeric and Hesiodic past of the name. The ensuing intertextual dissonance undermines the effect of Ares: Ares is not as threatening as he tries to appear. Thus, Ares’s bravado is weakened by considerations of the great powers that can defeat him. One can compare the analogous role of Hephaestus in the eruption of Etna in Pythian 1. The destructive force of the volcano that derives from Typhon is contained within the fire of Hephaestus, the divine craftsman, who through his work supports the rule of Zeus. Callimachus reverses fully the order of the things he finds in Pythian 1. Ares’s music creates disorder; Briareus, a power allied to Zeus, reacts to Ares’s threat. The pair Peneius and Delos is counterpoised by another one included in Apollo’s two prophecies, Thebes and Kos. The two places are not analogous in terms of the help they are willing to offer to Leto. Apollo threatens Thebes, while he praises Kos. Although all other islands flee Leto, Kos obviously does not. And yet, the narrator does not lavish any praise on it so as not to diminish the praise of Delos. The praise of Ptolemy II Philadelphus occasions the inclusion of his

 109 Mineur 1984: 152–153 ad loc. 110 Cingano 1995: 338 ad loc. 111 Slatkin 1991: 69–70. 112 Gigante Lanzara 1990: 116; Stephens 2015a: 203 ad loc.

The Μain Μythological Νarrative  343

birthplace. However, the hospitality that Kos offers Leto has to be passed over in silence so as not to disturb the major plot lines.113 The analogy between Thebes and Kos consists of the fact that in both places Apollo utters a prophecy. Apollo’s threat to Thebes contains specimens of prophetic discourse that have not been properly appreciated in secondary literature. In addition, the comparison of this first prophecy with the second prophecy Apollo delivers on Kos suggests continuities of content. Apollo addresses Thebes in harsh terms for her refusal to help his mother, Leto. Apollo declares his animosity towards Thebes and Cithaeron. As an example of the punishment he shall mete out to Thebans, Apollo mentions the killing of Niobe’s children—Niobe, who like Thebes insulted Apollo’s mother. In the Hymn to Apollo we saw that Niobe is included among Apollo’s enemies. We also suggested that the mention of Niobe’s reaction to the sound of Apollo’s paean parallels that of Typhon in Pindar’s Pythian 1. In the context of Apollo’s first prophetic utterance, Niobe’s myth is juxtaposed with that of Apollo’s killing of the Delphic snake (90–93). The killing of the snake is presented as the condition that needs to be fulfilled before the Delphic oracle can be instituted. Apollo accuses Thebes of “forcing him to utter an oracle against his wish” (89, μήπω μή μ’ ἀέκοντα βιάζεο μαντεύεσθαι). Thebes’s conduct violates the proper order of events and the divine plan that lies behind them. In so doing, Thebes demonstrates impertinence that brings her close to the Pythian dragon and Telphousa in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo and ultimately through them to Typhon. Thebes’s antagonistic attitude is conveyed once again in choric terms. Her choreia ignores the god of the divine choreia and tries to suppress it. Against the negative models of choreutic performances that is Thebes and Ares, Delos is the positive one indicating the appropriate way to honor Apollo and Zeus’s cosmic design. In the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, the defeat of Python parallels on a smaller scale the killing of Typhon by Zeus. By mentioning the two myths in such proximity to each other, Callimachus invests the myth of Niobe with an analogous cosmic aspect as he does in the second hymn.114 Both myths demonstrate Apollo’s role as a warrior god. Inevitably, Apollo’s fierceness is projected in the future time and fails to hinder the threat that Ares poses to Apollo’s mother. Nonetheless, the  113 In the Homeric Hymn to Apollo (42) Kos is included in the list of locations that cannot receive Apollo despite their ritual association with the god. Giuseppetti (2013: 143–146) suggests that the inclusion of Kos reflects its role in Pindar’s first hymn: apparently the divine song of the Muses includes also Heracles’s expedition against the Meropes. According to Giuseppetti, both islands represent instances of Olympic order. In this regard, Heracles offers an intertextual foil to Ptolemy II Philadelphus in Callimachus’s hymn. 114 For Niobe as symbolizing quantity over quality (Leto’s children), see Bing 1988: 117.

344  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos cosmic implications that permeate Ares’s conduct are answered by the threats present in Apollo’s propehecy. Kos is celebrated as the birthplace of Ptolemy II. Neither Apollo nor Leto have a word of kindness for the small island that apparently was willing to welcome Leto—it is a moot point to debate whether this is actually so or not. It is rather unlikely that Kos would have rejected Leto’s plea. This is the reason why its exclusion needs to come from Apollo himself. The historical details of Apollo’s prophecy have been adequately explained in the secondary literature. The discussion that follows raises those points in Apollo’s second prophecy that suggest connections with the first one and sustain the cosmic implications of the myths alluded to. Apollo merges the identity of the Gallic invaders with Ares, by terming them Celtic Ares. The cosmic implications are sustained by their description as “lateborn Titans” (174, ὀψίγονοι Τιτῆνες). Ares thwarts Apollo from benefiting Thessaly. He will repeat his acts in the future by directing an attack upon Apollo’s oracle at Delphi. The protection that Apollo offers to his cult center at Delphi continues the Delphic episode included in the first prophecy. Apollo founds the oracle by killing the Delphic dragon haunting the area. In the future, he will repeat this archetypal act by killing the Gauls. In both events the parallels with Zeus reinforce the cosmic implications. One also notes that the defeat of the Gauls communicates Apollo’s supremacy over Ares, by tuning in the same discourse that recalls the Titanomachy. Ares’s actions recall the Hesiodic description of Zeus’s battle against the Titans. In his first confrontation with Apollo’s allies (i.e. Peneius), Ares is successful because of Leto’s fear for the river god. Apollo will get the better of Ares in their second confrontation, defeating Ares’s agents—the Gauls. Although the details of the text in lines 177a–180 are far from certain,115 the mention of Hephaestus and of smoke burning recalls the description of the eruption of Etna in lines 141–147, thus completing the connection with Ares’s threat to Peneius. Apollo’s discourse suggests a positive use for fire as a weapon of divine retribution. Fire is the means whereby Ptolemy, another ally of Apollo, can bring destruction to those wishing to compromise the stability of the world. Apollo’s discourse concludes with the decription of Delos. Apollo insists on Delos’s freedom of movement that allows her to sail the Aegean sea. The appearance of the island, codified, as we have already seen, in her name, reverses Ares’s threat to hide the stream of Peneius. Ares intends to trap Peneius in a subterra-

 115 Mineur 1984: 172–175.

Conclusion: The Βirth of Apollo  345

nean prison that recalls that of Typhon in Pindar’s Pythian 1. This is the final instance on Ares’s part to pervert the actions of his father. The inability of Ares to align himself correctly with Zeus’s model, in the way that Apollo does, derives from Ares’s siding with his mother. We have already seen that Hera is associated with Typhon in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. Callimachus does not reference the genealogical link between Hera and Typhon.116 He acknowledges it though indirectly by merging it with the more widely known mother-son relationship between Hera and Ares. By projecting upon Ares Typhonian qualities, Callimachus retains the episode of the Homeric hymn and combines it with material that he draws from Pindar’s Pythian 1. In so doing, Callimachus has the opportunity to introduce the praise of Ptolemy II Philadephus as an avatar of Apollo. At the same time, through Peneios Callimachus alludes to aspects of Ptolemaic royal imagery. Before narrating the final act (Apollo’s birth), Callimachus makes sure to suggest that Hera agrees with what is going to happen. The humiliation that Leto had to go through is enough. Even Hera cannot stop Zeus’s plan, which involves the birth of a son stronger than Ares.117

Conclusion: The Βirth of Apollo The birth of Apollo is the culmination of the narrative. The episode is well-known from versions such those in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo and Pindar’s twelfth Paean (fr. 52m Sn.-M. = G1 Rutherford). An interesting detail that Pindar adds in his depiction of the scene is that Zeus was sitting on Cynthus, watching Leto give birth. As it has been pointed out, this detail might have given Callimachus the idea of placing Ares and Iris on top of mountains.118 As is typical in such scenes, the birth of Artemis and Apollo causes a brilliance similar to that of the sun while the goddesses present, Lachesis and Eilythyia, greet the advent of the two new gods with a ritual cry. Callimachus keeps to the general structure of such scenes varying slightly the traditional motifs. The brilliance that the presence of the divine baby causes is here restated as a gilding of the sacred sites of Delos. Nature and gods join in welcoming Apollo: swans sing while the Delian nymphs, perhaps the daughters of Inopos, perform a song pertinent to the goddess of birth.  116 For Hera as Typhon’s mother, see J. Clay 2006: 66–68. 117 Zeus is generally absent from the hymn. The mention of him here is a faint echo of the interest Zeus takes in the birth of his son in Pindar’s Paean 12 (fr. 52m Sn.-M.). For Zeus’s πρόνοια, see Rutherford 2001: 366–372; Giuseppetti 2013: 94–95; Hardie 2016: 55, who sees a further echo of this paean in Callimachus’s designation of Apollo as Cynthius in lines 9–10. 118 Hardie 2016: 63–64; 91.

346  Defining the Elusive: Tradition and Innovation in Callimachus’s Hymn to Delos Line 258 ἀντήχησε διαπρυσίην ὀλολυγήν recalls the commotion that Ares’s war dance causes in lines 137–140. In both cases the divine performance effects a transformation of the surrounding landscape: as a power of destruction Ares causes seismic activity, while Apollo showers the cosmos in his divine brilliance. Such images of divine choreia reflect the scene that Pindar established in Pythian 1. Conforming to this model, Callimachus also includes the reaction of the enemy god to the divine performance: Hera, like Typhon in Pythian 1 or Niobe and Thetis in the Hymn to Apollo, is won over. Callimachus notes that she did not begrudge the birth of Apollo since Zeus removed her anger—οὐδ’ Ἥρη νεμέσησεν looks back to οὐ νεμεσητόν at line 16. After the birth scene Callimachus returns to the declaration he made to his θυμός at the opening of the hymn. Having sung Delos as Apollo’s κουροτρόφος, Callimachus demonstrates the plurality of songs that surround Delos. The theme of circular dancing becomes important and dominates the ritual acts that Callimachus describes. The movements on the human/ritual level imitate similar movements on the divine one. Delos’s peregrinations as well as the geographic formation of the Cyclades acquire archetypal significance. As a result of this, each choral performance is invested with an inescapable symbolism: with each performance the dancers restructure the world in the way in which Apollo’s birth establishes the stability of his father’s realm. The first scene (275–299) describes the θεωρίαι sent annually to Delos. The centrality of Delos, nicely stated at line 280, is thrown into relief by the distance from which offerings arrive. The θεωρίαι of the Hyperboreans follow a route similar to that of Delos when she intercepts Leto: from Epirus (Dodona), the offerings of the Hyperboreans pass to Euboia and from there to Delos. The proximity of Delos to Euboia is stated twice before in the poem. The second scene (300–315) concerns performances. The Cyclades form a circle around Delos, who is thus fixed in their center. Callimachus imagines the islands immobilized in a constant dance around Delos, who acts as their chorus-leader. The scene can be seen only from above, and so Callimachus widens his perspective to adopt the divine gaze of the evening star. This is a recurrent motif in Callimachus’s depictions of choral performances. In the Hymn to Apollo, Apollo and Cyrene watch the Theran colonists and the Libyan women perform jointly in their honor. In the Hymn to Artemis, Callimachus depicts the nymphs dancing in circles around Artemis near the river Inopos (170–182). The beauty of the image is such that the sun god stops his chariot and the day lasts longer. Finally, a similar scene is given in the Hymn to Demeter: the evening star anticipates the arrival of the procession of Demeter’s devotees. Callimachus conveys the cosmic aspect of the Delian performances. In the first part of the hymn, it is the gods who regard Delos from above as a star. In

Conclusion: The Βirth of Apollo  347

the final section, Callimachus returns to the island’s divine appellation.119 The dancing of the islands around Delos is mirrored by the rhythmic movement of the maidens dancing to the sound of Olen’s ancient hymn. The dancers festoon Aphrodite’s statue with wreaths. The allusion to Theseus’s stop on Delos juxtaposes the Delian choreia with that of the youths led by Theseus. Theseus performs a role analogous to that of Delos leading the youths in a cyclic dance around the main altar of Delos. The theme of Apollo’s altar is further developed by a description of the ritual acts that are performed around it in historical times. Choreia is central to the imagery and structure of the Hymn to Apollo. The same theme also permeates the Hymn to Delos. Apollo thus emerges in an unmistakably Pindaric light as the divine bard, mouthpiece of the harmony and stability of his father’s rule. In this capacity, Apollo is the role model for the poet lavishly bestowing his praise upon the Egyptian sovereign. The analogies between the Pindaric image and Egyptian royal ideology allow Callimachus to refer to the Pindaric conceptualization of Apollo’s role and develop it in terms congruent with the Ptolemaic cultural and religious ambience. According to this outlook, an incessant choreia structures the cosmos. Cyclic dances bring mortals and gods into harmonious analogy, a harmony that extends also to the physical world. Thus the performances that Callimachus describes act as a kind of ritual drama restaging the primary epiphany of the god—that is, his birth—and reinstating the unity of creation. Callimachus’s debt to Pindar is great. Time and again Pindar directs his audiences to the symbolic significance of the choreia.120 Each performance engages the audience, encouraging them to travel through the rhythm of the dance to the realm of divine and heroic myth. In this way, the bridge separating gods from mortals can be bridged and the members of the audience partake in the brilliance that surrounds the victor.

 119 According to Ukleja (2005: 145–146), Callimachus’s return to Delos’s previous name contrasts with his previous derivation of Asteriē from ἀστῆρ prioritizing instead the Pindaric association of Asteriē with ἄστρον. This may be an indication that despite her independence and exile from Olympus, the nymph acquires her proper place in the divine world through her association with Apollo. Callimachus’s narrative ends on a positive note: Hera’s anger is removed by Zeus; but so is Zeus’s anger toward Delos allowing her to be honored in her capacity as Apollo’s nurse. Thus, Callimachus reinstates the dualiy of names as part of Delos’s double associations, mortal and immortal. 120 See, in particular, Mullen 1982: 131–133 and passim.



Part III: Myth and Poetry

Chapter 9 The Poetics of Experimentation: Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth Introduction Pythian 4 is the longest surviving victory song in our corpus of epinician odes. Its size suggests affinities to a tradition of extensive epico-lyric compositions associated nowadays mostly with the name of Stesichorus.1 The organic combination of epic subject matter (the Argonautic expedition) and size with lyric narrative mode bestows on Pythian 4 an innovative aspect, strengthening its appeal for Hellenistic poets.2 The discussion that follows focuses on the aspects of Pythian 4 that suggest affinities of approach or technique to Hellenistic poetics. Discussing the reception of Pythian 4 in Hellenistic poetry also involves taking into consideration Pindar’s treatment of the Argonautic myth and the influence of the Pindaric version on Hellenistic versions, particularly that of Apollonius in his epic Argonautica. Apart from its size and subject matter that recall epic tradition,3 Pythian 4 engages in a detailed manner with epic discourse. Pythian 4’s epic color and technique delineate the common ground between Pindar’s and Apollonius’s poems allowing us to better determine what is lyric and particularly Pindaric in the Hellenistic epic. Pythian 4 can be easily divided into three sections.4 The first part includes Medea’s prophecy to the Argonauts about the foundation of Cyrene (1–69). The central section of the ode (70–262) narrates the Argonautic expedition from the moment of Jason’s return from his exile until the stealing of the golden fleece; it concludes with the sojourn of the Argonauts on Lemnos. The third part (263–299)

 1 On the epic character of Pythian 4, see Duchemin 1967: 93; Sigelman 2016: 124–125. On the possible connections with Stesichorus’s poetry, see Fraccaroli 1894: 400; Burton 1962: 153; Beye 1982: 47; Segal 1986: 4–5; Braswell 1988: 160; Gentili 1995: lx; Sigelman 2016: 125n27. 2 One suspects that Stesichorus had a similar appeal for Hellenistic poets, but the dearth of evidence cannot substantiate this claim. For the Hellenistic reception of Stesichorus see Massimilla 1995 and Hunter 2015. 3 Duchemin (1967: 93) also adds the dactylo-trochaic meter of the song; cf. O’Higgins 1997: 115. Maslov 2015: 80n136 calls attention to the differences in the way the two poets treat dactyloepitrites. 4 Chamoux 1953: 189–191; Sigelman 2016: 112. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-010

352  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth returns to the connection of the Argonautic myth with Cyrene and includes a series of admonitions addressed to Arcesilaus regarding primarily his behavior towards Damophilus. The first two sections of Pythian 4 begin in typical epic fashion at an advanced point in the narrative (in medias res) before they move back in time to set the background.5 In both sections, the narrative transitions from the past to the moment at which Medea or Pindar start their narratives, essentially forming ring compositions. Such devices are typical in Homeric epic and help articulate not only whole epics (e.g. the Iliad),6 but particularly speeches. Similarly, in terms of style, the narratorial manner in which Medea treats the epiphany of Eurypylus is unmistakably epic. The epiphany is mentioned first in a perfunctory fashion (20– 25) and then dealt with in more detail (26–37). Despite the disruption to narrative sequence that this technique entails, it has impeccable epic credentials, and its application here is part of Pindar’s ongoing engagement with epic poetry in this ode.7 Other epic elements that bespeak Pindar’s experimentization with epic technique include the extensive use of direct speeches.8 Direct speech is not common in Pindar’s victory songs, and when it does appear (e.g. Teiresias’s prophecy in Nemean 1; Heracles’s toast in Isthmian 6), it never takes up the space it does in Pythian 4. The episodic style of the main mythological narrative imitates the paratactic (additive) style Aristotle found typical of most archaic epics and which is repeated in Apollonius’s Argonautica.9 Finally, Pindar’s dependence on the Muses for factual information as well as the explicit reference to Homer in the third section of the ode (277) adds to the epic patina of this song.10 The direct speeches included in Pythian 4 recall formulaic hospitality scenes.11 The parallels between hospitality and the proper use of language create  5 Christ 1896: 152 on 70ss; Gildersleeve 1908: 280. For the technique from the point of view of oral composition, see Ong 2012: 140–141. 6 Ruck/Matheson 1968: 26; Stanley 1983: 241–247. 7 Scodel 2004: 49 discussing Od. 20.66–78. For “lyric narrative” (i.e. ring composition) in Homer and Pindar, see Sigelman 2016: 23–43. 8 Pindar may approach this epic device through the tradition of Stesichorus: Segal 1986: 5n2. 9 Poetics 1451a16–30; 1459a17–1459b7. The epic character of the narrative part in Pythian 4 is rightly appreciated by Fraccaroli 1894: 400. For the additive style of oral literature, see Ong 2012: 37–38; Notopoulos 1949. Ong 2012: 141 discusses the episodic character of oral narratives. For the episodic structure in the Argonautica, see Händel 1954: 75–76. For Apollonius and Aristotle, see Hunter 1993: 190–195; 2008: 127–140; Rengakos 2004: 287–297; Hutchinson 2006. 10 Sigelman (2016: 124–125) further adds the leisure at which the myth unfolds, the style of the adventure, which recalls the Odyssey, the epicizing diction, and the meter. 11 Christ 1896: 156 on 97; Burton 1962: 155; Ferrari 2008: 120n38.

Introduction  353

an almost formulaic discourse that imitates Homer. One notes, in particular, the differences in the epiphany of Eurypylus to Euphemus and the appearances of Jason to Pelias and Aeëtes. The way in which these manifestations are treated by both Euphemus and Pelias is part of their characterization. The fact that both Euphemus and Pelias are descendants of Poseidon suggests a formal framework in which this juxtaposition operates.12 Repeating and varying the same structure or theme is typical of epic bards and seems to be an operating principle of Pindar’s narrative as well.13 Poseidon’s offspring is associated in Medea’s prophecy with proper hospitality and receiving it; the fact that Jason addresses Pelias as Poseidon’s son throws into relief his aberrant and inhospitable ways, indicating the maliciousness of his character. In addition to the previous interpretation, Pindar’s take on epic techniques has also relevance for the message he wishes to deliver to the victor, Arcesilaus. It is on the basis of this device that Pindar admonishes Arcesilaus, also a descendant of Poseidon through Euphemus, to demonstrate the same principles of hospitability and gentle discourse in his treatment of Damophilus.14 Epic refinement can be also seen in the way in which Pindar presents the prehistory of the expedition. In particular the animosity between Pelias and Jason is presented gradually through references in speeches as happens in the Iliad—and Apollonius.15 Finally, the issue of the nostos is significant in that it recalls the epic theme of nostos, prominent in the younger of the two Homeric epics, as well as in that it sets a model for the similar preoccupation of Jason and his crew in Apollonius’s epic.16 Even the transition from the main narrative to the final section is prepared for in epic fashion making use of what Adrian Kelly (2007a: 382–398) terms “decreasing doublets.” The epinician coloring in Pindar’s description of Jason’s ἆθλος in Colchis looks forward to the less important games on Lemnos. These, in turn, allow Pindar to return to the official reason for the composition of the ode,

 12 Potamiti 2015. 13 Scodel 2004: 48–49. 14 For the permutations of xenia in Pythian 4 and the epic background of the technique, see Ruck/Matheson 1968: 16–32. A similar technique can be appreciated in the Argonautica. The narrator juxtaposes the reception of the Argonauts by the Lemnian women with those by Amycus and the Colchians; he also contrasts the hospitality shown by the Phaeacians with the treatment of the Argonauts by Aeëtes. Odysseus’s apologoi demonstrate a similar device contrasting positive and negative variations of the hospitality theme; see Most 1989. 15 Fränkel 1968: 24–31; Green 2007: 202 on lines 5–17. 16 For the importance of nostos in Pythian 4, see Gildersleeve 1908: 281; Burton 1962: 167.

354  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth Arcesilaus’s chariot victory in the Pythian Games.17 Pindar’s juxtaposition of the Colchian “games” with the Lemnian ones causes an awkwardness that Apollonius artfully avoids. By situating the Lemnian episode at the beginning of the Argonauts’ journey, Apollonius does away with the inelegance of having Medea present while the Argonauts are sojourning with Hypsipyle and her women.18 But this way of dealing with myths is more typical of Hellenistic considerations than archaic poetry. When Pindar narrates the episode of the Lemnian Games, he does not occupy himself with the question of Medea’s presence or absence. As has been pointed out in discussions of Homeric narrative, the epic narrator “forgets” characters that are not important to him.19 A similar technique applies in Pindar’s narrative. Nonetheless, there are further layers of meaning that the juxtaposition of Medea with the Lemnian women produces in Pindar’s text. The immediate transition from Medea, the “murder of Pelias” (250, Πελίαο φόνον), to the Lemnian women looks ahead to a part of the story not covered by Pindar. It also influences the representation of the Lemnian women.20 Pindar does not reference the part of the myth, according to which the women of Lemnos had killed the male population of the island.21 The proximity between the reference to the murder of Pelias and the Lemnian sojourn of the Argonauts invests Pindar’s account with intertextual potential, rendering his lyric take on epic material successful. It will be seen that in this regard, as in many others, Pindar shows himself to be a kindred spirit to Hellenistic poets.

Double Proems and Generic Hybridization Despite its epic character, Pindar never loses sight of the lyric identity of his song. He successfully combines both traditions through the first two sections of the poem: the first section, articulated through Medea’s prophecy, is overtly lyric; the  17 Placing the Lemnian episode in the journey home is usually seen as Pindar’s innovation. For the possibility that this change antedates Pindar, see Sbardella 2008: 293n10. 18 Duchemin 1967: 146 ad 252. Myrsilus of Methymna (FGrHist 477 F1) attributes the horrible smell of the Lemnian women not to Aphrodite, but to Medea because of her terrible jealousy of Hypsipyle. See also Bulloch 2006: 49–50. 19 Rothe 1910: 152–153. During the nostos of Menelaus, Helen accompanied her husband. Nonetheless, in the episode with Proteus, Helen is put aside. There seems to be the faintest ever echo of a fascination of Proteus’s daughter with Menelaus. Helen is not necessary to this scene, and we can momentarily forget about her. 20 It is equally true that the mention of the Lemnian women colors the presentation of Medea, hinting at her “Euripidean” future; cf. O’Higgins 1997: 123–124. 21 Fraccaroli 1894: 407; Segal 1986: 84.

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second is epic in its arrangement of material and is associated with the praise poet himself. Both sections are prefaced by a proem that invests this Pindaric ode with a kind of generic hybridization.22 Pythian 4 celebrates the chariot victory of King Arcesilaus of Cyrene at Delphi. The information is provided in the expected elaborate fashion of the Pindaric narrator. Cyrene, the home of the country, is “fair in horses” (2, εὐίππου … Κυράνας), an indirect reminder of Arcesilaus’s prodigious team of horses. The ode is a “fair wind of songs” (3, οὖρον ὕμνων) owed to the children of Leto (Apollo and Artemis) and Pytho (3). This designation of the victory song along with the statement in the first line “today, Muse, you need to stand by a dear friend” implies that Pythian 4 is performed during a κῶμος (2) in Arcesilaus’s home. The reference to the locale of the games occasions the transition to the myth about the founding of Cyrene. Pindar juxtaposes Arcesilaus’s Pythian victory with the oracle that Battus, Arcesilaus’s ancestor, received at Delphi: this ordered him to institute a new city in Libya. The reference to the oracle Battus received at Delphi motivates the transition to another oracle delivered this time by Medea to Battus’s ancestor, the Argonaut Euphemus. Like the priestess at Delphi, Medea engages with the colonial history of the laudandus’s homeland. Through the connection between the Argonautic expedition and Arcesilaus, Pindar approaches the myth from a predominantly Cyrenean point of view. From the above summary of Pythian 4’s first section, it appears that this part of the ode resembles a miniature victory song.23 It starts with the celebration of Arcesilaus’s victory and the address to the Muses. There is a mention of the games in which the victory was won, followed by the mythological event that concerns Euphemus and the Libyan clod. This episode leads to the line of Arcesilaus’s ancestors and the foundation of Cyrene by them. Family and city partake in the glory Arcesilaus has won in Delphi. To this self-contained unit Pindar adds the extensive narrative that is his second section, drawing from it the message he addresses to Arcesilaus in section three. The narrative about the golden fleece is conjoined with the celebration of Arcesilaus. As the poet declares, he will deliver to the Muses both Arcesilaus and the golden fleece. The epic story thus sets the background for the myth narrated in section one. That Pindar adds the extensive narrative of the Argonautic expedition reflects the status of his laudandus but also the specific requirements of his commission. Unlike Euphemus the return of Jason offers a better example for convincing Arcesilaus to forgive Damophilus.  22 For genre-hybridization, see Sigelman 2016: 124–125 with n. 27. Maslov 2015: 246–317 examines genre hybridity more generally as an attribute of Pindar’s synthetic poetics. 23 Wilamowitz 1922: 384; Ruck/Matheson 1968: 27; Sigelman 2016: 112, 120.

356  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth The mythological section of Pythian 4 begins with a direct question (70–71). The addressee is not specified, but, as the ancient comments specify, it could well be the Muses.24 τίς γὰρ ἀρχὰ δέξατο ναυτιλίας, τίς δὲ κίνδυνος κρατεροῖς ἀδάμαντος δῆσεν ἅλοις; What beginning of seafaring welcomed them? What inevitable danger bound them with mighty nails?

As a secondary proem, Pindar’s appeal to the Muse for factual information counterpoises the address to the Muse in the opening lines to participate in the celebrations for Arcesilaus’s victory (1–3). There the Muse is invited to stand by Arcesilaus and sustain the epinician celebration in Arcesilaus’s honor. As the grammatical subject of the infinitive ἀγκομίσαι (9), the Muse is also expected to sing. The content of this song is ultimately identified with Medea’s ἔπος. Since the ἔπος is an oracular utterance, ἀνακομίζω (“bring to fulfillment”) also indicates that victory and its celebration reenact the founding of Cyrene by Battus. This spells out the analogy between Battus and Arcesilaus, providing Euphemus as a third point of comparison. The two invocations complement each other. At the opening of the poem, the Muse is associated with the celebrations for the victorious athlete; the second time she is invoked in terms of providing inspiration to the poet regarding the content of his song. Each address leads to different narrative styles: one lyric, the other epic.25 While Medea’s prophecy is invested with lyric tones, the narrative proper follows the epic additive style, adding one episode after the other in strict chronological order from the very beginning, the ἀρχά, up to the point at which the Argonauts reach Lemnos.26 Despite the structural imbalances and the perfunctory style of Pindar’s presentation, this part of Pythian 4 does not demonstrate the cavalier treatment of temporal levels witnessed in Medea’s prophecy. Techniques typical of lyric narratives, such as abrupt transitions between temporal levels bring together the timeframe of Euphemus, that of his descendant, Battus, and of the latter’s descendant, Arcesilaus.27 Moreover, Medea’s prophecy

 24 Duchemin 1967: 118; Giannini 1995: 448 ad loc. 25 For this difference in style and its implications, see Sigelman 2016: 125. 26 Schroeder 1922: 39. 27 Sigelman 2016: 117–118.

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accords well with the selectivity of Pindaric narrative in other victory songs. The possible metapoetic overtones of Medea’s prophetic pronouncement are strengthened by the fact that Medea’s prophecy is juxtaposed with the Muses and the Delphian priestess.28 The closest parallel for Pindar’s second proem is provided by Homer. Although lines 70–71 do not exhibit the structure typically associated with epic proems, they do recall the questions the epic narrator poses to the Muses immediately after his proem.29 In the Iliad there are very often questions with no addressee, for which modern scholars assume that the narrator addresses the Muses.30 This parallel strengthens the interpretation of the ancient scholiast.31 By virtue of having two proems, Pythian 4 recalls the double proems of the Iliad, in which the second address to the Muses is prefixed to the Catalogue of Ships. This appeal for divine help throws into relief the special nature of what is to follow and communicates the poet’s pride in his achievement.32 Pindar’s second proem performs a similar function: it is one of the rare cases in which Pindar delineates the beginning and the end of the narrative, intimating, at the same time, its epic character. Although the Iliad is Apollonius’s undeniable role model, linguistic evidence suggests that Apollonius is also imitating Pindar’s two proems in Pythian 4. The proem of the Argonautica is addressed to Apollo. The selection of this god is predicated on the role of his oracle in causing the expedition (5–7).33 Jason references three times a favorable oracle delivered to him by Apollo (1.301–302; 359–362; 411–414—cf. 1.209–210).34 The content is never revealed, but the prominence  28 For Medea as a parallel to the poet, see Segal 1986: 154–160 (Pythian 4); Albis 1996: 67–92 (Argonautica 3). 29 Note, in particular, Il. 1.8 (Τίς τ’ ἄρ σφωε θεῶν ἔριδι ξυνέηκε μάχεσθαι;); Sotiriou 1998: 96. For Pindar’s invocation of the Muse, see Mackie 2003: 48–54. Mackie (2003: 55) also notes that Pindar’s appeals to the Muse usually come in the middle of the song. 30 S. Richardson 1990: 178–182; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 296 with n. 100. 31 Σ 124a: ὁ λόγος ἐρωτηματικὸς πρὸς τὴν Μοῦσαν. Note also later in the same entry: εἶτα Ὁμηρικῷ ζήλῳ μετὰ τὴν ἐρώτησιν ἐπάγει τὸ αἴτιον. Sotiriou 1998: 96 compares the question at Isthm. 5.39, which is also addressed to the Muse: Σ 48a–b (πρὸς τὴν Μοῦσαν ὁ λόγος). The question heads a catalogue of Trojan warriors, who were defeated by the descendants of Aeacus. Similar questions appear in Homer (e.g. Il. 5.703–704): S. Richardson 1990: 179. 32 Ford 1992: 72–79. 33 Fränkel 1968: 35; Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 3–4; Beye 1982: 17–18; Paduano/Fussilo 1986: 85 ad loc.; Pietsch 1999: 53–71; Green 2007: 201–202. Hunter (2001: 93–94) points out that, by beginning with Apollo, Apollonius reflects the prominence of the god in Iliad 1 (8–9) and signals the alignment of his epic with the authoritative Greek epic. 34 Pietsch 1999: 54–55.

358  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth given to it parallels the prominence of Apollo in Pythian 4. Both as the patron of the Pythian Games and the source of the oracle that leads Battus to Cyrene, Apollo’s role in Pythian 4 reflects the exigencies of Pindar’s performative context. The significance of Apollo in Pindar’s version along with the same god’s prominence in Hellenistic aesthetics (e.g. Callimachus’s Aetia prologue) account for Apollonius’s decision to invoke Apollo at the beginning of his epic.35 Formally, as several scholars have noted, Apollonius structures the opening of the Argonautica in the fashion of a hexameter hymn addressed to Apollo.36 This is a daring move that instigates the reader to look for those narrative elements that sustain the relevance of the god to the epic.37 Furthermore, prayers to Apollo punctuate the receptions of the Argonauts at Cyzicus (1.966) and Mysia (1.1186).38 The Argonauts also pray to Apollo after Apollo’s epiphany on the island of Thynias (2.685–693) and their encounter with Lycus (2.927–928). Finally, Apollo interferes in the action one last time in book 4 when darkness envelops the Argonauts after the Talos episode as they are approaching mainland Greece (4.1701–1712). The darkness that surrounds the Argo allows the poet to mention Apollo one last time before the end of the epic. The epic opens and closes with either mentions of Apollo or appeals to his agency: at the start of the epic the appeal is made by Apollonius, at the end by Jason. In addition to the inevitable parallelism between Apollonius and Jason that is thus created,39 there is something symbolic in this last scene. Throughout the epic, the Argonauts are associated with brightness and light. Just before they finally arrive in Iolcus, the Argonauts have to navigate through a dense, blinding darkness explicitly said to recall primeval chaos (4.1697) or Hades (4.1699).40 In order for them to do so successfully, Apollo will shed his light upon them, sharing with Jason and his crew his divine brilliance.41

 35 Albis 1996: 121–132; Köhnken 2000: 57. 36 Beye 1982: 13–14; Goldhill 1991: 287; Clauss 1993: 15–16; DeForest 1994: 37–46; Albis 1996: 5–8; Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004: 95; A. D. Morrison 2007b: 287–88. Contra: Köhnken 2000: 56n5. 37 Hunter 1993: 83–85; Pietsch 1999: 69–70. 38 For the formal similarities between these two scenes, see Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 106n2. 39 See Hunter 1993: 84. 40 Hunter 2015: 307 ad loc. 41 See Lovatt 2018.

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In addition to this proem, there are two further proems in books 3 and 4. The pun between Erato’s name and the word for “love” (erōs) at the opening of book 3 signposts the erotic content of this book.42 Εἰ δ’ ἄγε νῦν Ἐρατώ, παρ’ ἔμ’ ἵστασο καί μοι ἔνισπε ἔνθεν ὅπως ἐς Ἰωλκὸν ἀνήγαγε κῶας Ἰήσων Μηδείης ὑπ’ ἔρωτι· σὺ γὰρ καὶ Κύπριδος αἶσαν ἔμμορες, ἀδμῆτας δὲ τεοῖς μελεδήμασι θέλγεις παρθενικάς· τῶ καί τοι ἐπήρατον οὔνομ’ ἀνῆπται. But come now, Erato, stand by my side and recount how Jason brought the fleece back to Iolcus from there through Medea’s love. For Cypris’s share is your lot, and with your cares you bewitch unwedded women. Thus you also got your lovely name.

Apollonius asks Erato to stand by his side (1) and tell him “how Jason brought the fleece back to Iolcus with the aid of Medea’s love” (2–3). Apollonius’s request is misleading in view of the actual content of book 3: the acquisition of the fleece and the return to Iolcus are not included in book 3, but in book 4. This incongruity between Apollonius’s address to the Muse and the actual content of the book invests these lines with a programmatic function. As Fränkel (1968: 326–327) notes, the proem of book 3 has a double role: the invocation of Erato introduces a new theme in the story—Medea’s love and its significance for the success of the expedition. At the same time, the reported question in lines 2–3 contextualizes Medea’s love against the theme of the whole epic (i.e. the acquisition of the fleece and the successful nostos).43 Book 2 ends with a cliffhanger. Ankaios suggests two possible ways in which the narrative can unfold from this point onwards (2.1277– 1280): μειλιχίη “gentleness,” which in effect is the way in which Jason will approach Aeëtes (cf. 3.385), or ἀλλοίη τις ἐπήβολος … ὁρμή (“some other kind of appropriate assault”) which obviously refers to war, as Peleus had previously intimated (2.1219–1225).44

 42 Vian 1961: 27 ad loc.; 1976–1981: vol. 2, 50n1; Green 2007: 252 ad loc. Campbell 1983: 2–5 discusses the merits of selecting Erato. Hunter 1989: 95 makes the important connection between erōs and poetic creation. 43 See also Campbell 1983: 2. 44 T.G. Rosenmeyer 1992: 181–182; Clauss 1997: 151 on 1.336–1340, 155 on 3.171–190; Holmberg 1998: 144. The introduction of Medea in book 3 suggests another possible route in dealing with Aeëtes, that of deceit. Mori 2007 offers an excellent discussion of rhetorical dexterity and particularly of deceitful “sweet sounding” words in the Argonautica.

360  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth “Κολχίδα μὲν δὴ γαῖαν ἱκάνομεν ἠδὲ ῥέεθρα Φάσιδος· ὥρη δ’ ἧμιν ἐνὶ σφίσι μητιάασθαι εἴτ’ οὖν μειλιχίῃ πειρησόμεθ’ Αἰήταο, εἴτε καὶ ἀλλοίη τις ἐπήβολος ἔσσεται ὁρμή.” We have reached the land of Colchis and the streams of Phasis. Now is the time to consider among ourselves whether we will make trial of Aeëtes with gentle words or some other kind of assault will be appropriate.

The proem of book 3 gives the answer to the question that the Argonauts cannot yet provide, by introducing for the first time a new player, Medea.45 The proem of book 4 signals a new turn in the narrative. Apollonius does not name a specific Muse,46 but throws into relief his “speechlessness” (4.3) regarding the reasons that impelled Medea to flee her parents. Αὐτὴ νῦν κάματόν γε θεὰ καὶ δήνεα κούρης Κολχίδος ἔννεπε Μοῦσα, Διὸς τέκος· ἦ γὰρ ἔμοιγε ἀμφασίῃ νόος ἔνδον ἑλίσσεται, ὁρμαίνοντι ἠὲ τόγ’ ἄτης πῆμα δυσιμέρου ἦ μιν ἐνίσπω φύζαν ἀεικελίην ᾗ κάλλιπεν ἔθνεα Κόλχων.

(5)

You now, goddess Muse, daughter of Zeus, tell of the troubles and plans of the Colchian maiden. For my mind inside me is troubled by speechlessness, when I consider whether to call the manner in which she abandoned the people of Colchis a calamity brought about by the baneful torment of love or a shameful flight.

Apollonius’s address introduces a parallel between the narrator’s ἀμφασίη and Jason’s typical ἀμηχανίη. Throughout the epic Jason is depicted lost in his thoughts considering the dangers of the expedition and the possible course of action he should take. The analogy between poet and Jason strengthens the similarity between Apollonius and Pindar. Pindar parallels his ability to bring about the reconciliation between Arcesilaus and Damophilus with Jason’s efficacy as a

 45 Paduano/Fussilo 1986: 387 ad loc.; Campbell 1994: 3. 46 Even so she is usually identified with Erato; see Hunter 1989: 95; 2015: 83. On the other hand, Acosta-Huges 2010: 43–47 construes this anonymity as a sign of authorial uncertainty regarding the poem’s generic discourse. Green 2008: 291 suggests instead Melpomene. Skepticism is also expressed by Hulse 2015: 22 ad loc.

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public speaker. At least in terms of the language he uses in both proems, Apollonius gives the impression that book 3 belongs to Jason while book 4 to Medea.47 By contrast, throughout books 1 and 2, the emphasis seems to be on the communal character of the endeavor.48 The opening of book 1 focuses on all of the Argonauts. Addressing Apollo, Apollonius talks about the glorious deeds of men of old (1) and immediately proceeds to procure a catalogue of the Argonauts (23– 228). Securing the fleece is a challenge that concerns solely Jason. Jason’s “toil” (κάματος) is described in the last section of book 3. The proem of book 4 suggests that the narrative will now turn to the κάματος of his accomplice—Medea.49 It is against this background that one can also appreciate the significance of αὐτή. The pronoun effects a change in the distribution of roles. Similarly, κάματος suggests that the distribution of roles with regard to the narrative mirrors a similar distribution of toil between Medea and Jason.50 The poet relinquishes the narration of this part of the story to the Muse, positing a relationship of collaboration that looks very similar to that between Jason and Medea.51 With Medea holding the status of a goddess and Jason relying upon Medea’s help for the success of his narrative, the analogy Apollonius constructs is apposite and conforms to epic tradition: the epic bard relies upon the Muse to complete his poem.52 The reason that the poet asks the Muse to narrate Medea’s κάματος concerns the details of the female psyche, which seem impervious to the narrator’s panoptic gaze.53 Up to this point, Apollonius has had access to Medea’s innermost

 47 Since the implications of the proem of book 3 are more wide-ranging that those of book 4, the former is also seen as dividing the Argonautica in two halves. See Hunter 1989: 95; Köhnken 2000: 59–60; Wray 2000: 245. 48 This is suggested both by the opening lines and the prominence of the catalogue of heroes, as Goldhill 1991: 287–288 points out. On the Argonauts as the collective hero in this epic, see Carspecken 1952: 110. 49 4.364 (σῶν ἕνεκεν καμάτων); 4.384 (στρευγόμενος καμάτοισι); see Beye 1982: 36–37 and Köhnken 2000: 60–61. κάματος refers also to the troubles of the Argo as she approaches the Phaeacians (4.993–994). In 4.1319–1320, the Sirens identify these κάματοι with the Argonauts’ Odyssean adventures. Note also 4.1321 (πλαζόμενοι κατὰ πόντον ὑπέρβια ἔργα κάμεσθε). The term serves as a unifying element that brings together the troubles of Jason (books 1–3), Medea (first half of book 4), and those of the Argo and the Argonauts (second half of book 4) under one theme (κάματος). 50 Natzel 1992: 203–204. 51 T.G. Rosenmeyer 1992: 184; Clauss 1997: 151–152. As Goldhill (1991: 295) notes, the poet’s κάματος parallels that of the toiling Argonauts. 52 Feeney 1991: 89–93; Goldhill 1991: 292–294; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 308–309. 53 Beye 1982: 17–18; Hunter 2015: 83.

362  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth thoughts and feelings. This aporia is a literary device that influences Apollonius’s characterization of Medea. The proem of book 3 comes when a dilemma is facing the Argonauts: should they use force or cunning? The answer is provided by the introduction of Medea: force channeled through Medea’s cunning. At the beginning of book 4, Apollonius, like the characters of his epic, is also faced with a dilemma. Did Medea flee because of fear or love? As in the previous case, the answer is somewhere in between.54 Thus, Apollonius’s appeal to the Muses for help is a nod to the collaboration of Jason and Medea and its metapoetic significance. This neat distinction of gender roles parallels and matches several aspects of Pindar’s articulation of Pythian 4. Specifically, Apollonius’s books 1–3 parallel Pindar’s epic narrative, while book 4, Medea’s prophecy. Books 1–3 form one selfcontained unit that leads from Thessaly to Colchis; the Lemnian episode also belongs here since it is relocated to the beginning of the expedition. In book 3 the focus on Medea gives the erroneous impression that she is going to be the center of narratorial interest. However, this expectation is never fulfilled since Medea is peripheral to the action. Book 4 does not concern Jason, but Medea’s flight from Colchis. Similarly, in Pythian 4, section one focuses on Medea, who is again situated in the second part of the voyage, while section two on Jason and his journey to Colchis. In addition, the formidable manifestation of Medea’s divine powers in the first section of Pythian 4 is more in tune with Medea in the fourth book of Apollonius’s Argonautica. This connection is further supported by the fact that Medea’s prophecy includes material Apollonius assigns to the fourth book of his epic. However, consideration of Apollonius’s division of the actual material over his books suggests that Apollonius engages in a more nuanced intertextual game with Pindar’s poem. To be specific, the phrasing of the appeal to Erato at the opening of book 3 is closer to the proem of Pythian 4 than that of the epic account. Apollonius’s παρά θ᾽ ἵστασο harks back to Pindar’s παρ᾽ ἀνδρὶ στᾶμεν.55 In both lines, the Muse is asked to stand by either the poet or the victor of the games.56  54 Paduano 1972: 201–208; Hunter 1987; 2015: 84 ad loc. Livrea (1973: 4–5 ad loc.) notes that the inclusion of the particle γέ shows a slight preference for the former alternative; cf. T.G. Rosenmeyer 1992: 183–184. The narrative sequence, however, focuses on the latter: see Fränkel 1968: 453–454. 55 Older scholars (Mooney 1912: 223; Gillies 1928: 1 ad loc.) saw this use as an allusion to the reading at Il. 10.291, where Zenodotus and Aristarchus read παρίσταο instead of παρίσασο as Apollonius probably also did; see also Rengakos 1993: 70–71. Campbell 1983: 6; 1994: 6–7 offers further parallels from Pindar (Ol. 3.4) and Empedocles (31 B 131.3 DK = fr. 3.3 Wright). 56 Braswell 1988: 60 on 1–2; Hunter 1989: 95–96 ad loc.; Campbell 1994: 6–7; Albis 1996: 90; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 299. The Muse supports the Pindaric poet as Athena supports heroes in the

Double Proems and Generic Hybridization  363

The focus is patently different between the two poems, erotic and colonial respectively. Nonetheless, in both cases the aspect of the myth each poet focuses on is seen against the background of the whole expedition. Some scholars would associate the mention of Erato and the pun with erōs with the proem of Stesichorus’s Rhadine (fr. 327 Finglass).57 The mention of Erato at the beginning of book 3 could serve as a metaliterary indicator signaling the inclusion of lyric subject matter (erotic theme) and tropes in epic discourse. On this basis, the lyric character of book 3 could be aligned with the more obviously lyric style Pindar uses for Medea’s prophecy. On the other hand, the opening of Apollonius’s book 4 is closer to Pindar’s question at the beginning of the narrative section. Apollonius’s ἀμφασίη translates into epic terms Pindar’s dependence on the Muses. As Livrea (1973: 3) notes, the proem of book 4 is distinct from the other two proems in Apollonius’s epic in that this proem focuses on the role of the poet and his connection to the Muse. Additionally, the lack of specificity in naming the addressee of the question parallels the similar ambiguity in Apollonius’s text. In both cases, a reference to the Muses precedes the proem helping the reader to establish the context. Both poets are interested in discovering the first cause (the ἀρχά) that set the action narrated in motion. Against the background that these connections offer, one can revisit Pindar’s question to the Muse and examine its influence on Apollonius’s conceptualization of the reasons that led to the Argonautic expedition. Pindar first asks the Muse to identify the cause of the sea journey. In the following line, he specifies further the conditions under which the Argonauts sailed. The imagery suggests that some danger holds Jason fast using strong nails (τίς δὲ κίνδυνος κρατεροῖς ἀδάμαντος | δῆσεν ἅλοις). ἀδάμαντος casts this danger as an unbreakable metal that neither Jason nor his comrades can easily wield or avoid. It is generally agreed that κίνδυνος refers to the oracle Pelias had received from Delphi. The imagery though suggests that Jason takes upon himself the perilous task under the compulsion of necessity.58 Indeed, the ancient scholiast renders these lines as “what strong and dangerous necessity incited them?” (Σ 124a, ποία ἰσχυρὰ καὶ κινδυνώδης ἀνάγκη παρώρμησε τοὺς Ἀργοναύτας;). Later in the narrative, Hera  Iliad: Mackie 2003: 66; Maslov 2015: 207. A different interpretation is offered by O’Higgins 1997: 112–113, who sees a parallel here between the Muse and Medea. The “relocation” described by the verb signals the introduction of both women into the familiar, civic environment of Cyrene from their original otherworldly homes. Ultimately, the Muse and Medea share in the experience of a young wife moving to her new home at the side of her husband. 57 Wilamowitz 1924: vol. 2, 205; Vian 1961: 27; Campbell 1983: 3, 5. 58 Braswell 1988: 163 on 71(a); Giannini 1995: 448 ad loc. Horace repeats the image at I.35.17; III.24.5.

364  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth inspires the Argonauts with desire (πόθος, 184) in order that they join the expedition. Braving the dangers involved will allow these heroes to gain immortal fame.59 For Jason, however, the expedition is an inevitable condition for him to get the throne. The ties of kinship compel him to accept Pelias’s challenge regardless of his heroic inclinations or lack thereof.60 The insistence on necessity as the reason for the Argonautic expedition in Pythian 4 accounts for Apollonius’s similar treatment of the prehistory of the myth. Apollonius imputes sinister motives to Pelias. Pelias’s intention is that Jason perish abroad (1.15–17). Still, the conditions under which Pelias is able to issue his command seem to suggest that the expedition is fated and necessary (1.440–441, ὑμῖν μὲν δὴ μοῖρα θεῶν χρειώ τε περῆσαι | ἐνθάδε κῶας ἄγοντας).61 χρειώ compels Jason to undertake the expedition. Gradually, it becomes clear that the expedition happens according to the plan of Hera and Zeus. In both accounts, however, it is necessity that compels Jason to action.

Colonial Discourse One of the central aspects in Pindar’s ideological approach to celebrating victories is that they are an expression of the victor’s true nature. A nature that comes to the surface only through the test of competing and winning. This innate prowess allows ties between the victor and his great ancestors: exploits of the past are brought to mind through recent victories. Along similar lines, Pythian 4 focuses on Arcesilaus’s excellence as a potent reminder of domineering heroic figures such as the Argonaut Euphemus and the first Cyrenean king, Battus. Their attributes live on through their descendant, the present king of Cyrene. This genealogical link runs parallel to the colonial genealogy that follows the creation of the Libyan kingdom. The innate excellence of the Battiad dynasty is analogous to the vegetal imagery that permeates Pythian 4:62 the victor’s φυά is conceptualized through the various cognate verbal forms derived from the same *phu- root and related word: (i) ῥίζαν … φυεύεσθαι (15), (ii) τιμαὶ φύτευθεν (69), (iii) ἄμμες αὖ κείνων φυτευθέντες σθένος ἀελίου χρυσέον λεύσσομεν (144), (iv) τόθι γὰρ γένος Εὐφάμου φυτευθέν (256)—note also σπέρμα (43, 255). Arcesilaus’s past is intricately woven with that of his country, offering a new rendition of the connection

 59 Schroeder 1922: 39 on 71. 60 Sigelman 2016: 131–132. 61 3.332–339; 389–392 with Hunter 1989 ad loc. 62 On vegetal imagery see Sigelman 2016: 121.

Colonial Discourse  365

between victor and his city, typical in Pindar’s victory songs. Furthermore, by such means Pindar succeeds in subordinating the colonial discourse to his praise program and embeds it in his negotiation of the relationship between victor and his city. The technique and devices that Apollonius chose to introduce this part of the tradition in his narrative show signs of Pindaric influence.63 Euphemus is carefully introduced at 4.1466 as part of the search team that sets out to find Heracles.64 His story is taken up again at 4.1732. In Apollonius’s account it is Jason that explains to Euphemus his portentous dream, not Medea (1746–1754). This is the more striking because Jason was previously at a loss as to how to interpret the instructions of the Libyan heroines and had to resort to the collective acumen of his crew (1347–1362). One also notes the following stark difference between Pindar and Apollonius. Pindar presents Medea interpreting events that have happened without any textual indication of divine or supernatural prompting. On the other hand, Apollonius presents Euphemus having an oracular dream. It is also significant that the Lemnian women are not associated explicitly with the colonial history of Cyrene—at least not by Jason who interprets the dream, but by the narrator. In this Apollonius also agrees with Pindar: in Pythian 4 Medea avoids any reference to the Lemnian women referencing instead only Thera. The prophecy in Euphemus’s dream is conveyed in sexual, almost incestuous, terms. Euphemus dreams that he is breastfeeding the clod of earth handed to him by Triton—ἐπιμαστίδιος is used as a rule for infants (Euripides IT 231 of Orestes). This casts Euphemus in a sexually ambiguous role. Euphemus is both the father (male) of the children he will sire by Thera, but also acts as the mother (female) feeding the clod of earth. The clod then grows into a maiden (1736). Euphemus is overcome by sexual desire for the maiden. Euphemus bewails the incestuous relationship. But the girl explains to Euphemus that she is really the daughter of Triton and Libya, not his. To begin with, one notes the major difference between Pindar’s and Apollonius’s versions. Pindar suggests that the clod ought to have been deposited at Taenaron in the Peloponnese. There is no such implication in Apollonius’s version: the clod was meant to be thrown into the sea near Anaphe all along.65 Accordingly, no mistake is made in this regard as in Pythian 4.

 63 Stephens 2011 discusses the colonial background of the Argonautic myth and its relevance in Apollonius’s epic. 64 Hunter 2015: 278 ad loc. 65 Green 2007: 358.

366  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth The sexualized discourse we find in this section of the epic agrees in some respects with Medea’s discourse in Pythian 4. Both poets refer to the clod of Libyan earth as βῶλαξ δαιμονίη (4.1734 ~ Pyth. 4.37),66 a designation that is connected to the prophetic tone of the immediate context: Euphemus’s dream in Apollonius and Medea’s discourse in Pindar. Medea further describes the clod as “indestructible sperm of Libya” (Pyth. 4.42–43, ἄφθιτον... Λιβύας | ... σπέρμα). This image varies traditional discourse. Countries like Libya are usually represented as female entities in Greek colonial discourse. Here Libya is both feminine, according to the grammatical gender of her name, but also masculine in that the clod of its earth is a sperm that impregnates the Aegean sea. The sexual ambiguity of Libya is the model for that of Euphemus. In Pindar, Euphemus is the agent through whose carelessness the clod is united with the sea. Euphemus’s dream combines traditions repeatedly found in Greek colonial discourse. First, the relationship between mother and child is used to describe the bond between a land and its nation.67 The relationship is present in Euphemus’s dream in a twofold manner. Thera is the “nurse” of Euphemus’s descendants. But Euphemus is also the nurse of the land itself. Second, the feminine gender of the clod and its manifestation as a nubile girl violated by a male agent (usually a god) is also traditional in Greek colonial thought.68 In such stories, the nymph is transferred to the locale that shall be named after her. The abduction theme here is suppressed as the clod is the gift of guest friendship. Nonetheless, the clod/maiden is relocated to the geographical point which marks her fixity on the map as the island of Thera. Pindar places the emphasis on the fact that the clod is a gift of guest friendship, whereas Apollonius emphasizes the erotic aspect of the colonial story. One possible reason for the difference lies in Apollonius’s tendency to fashion side stories (or paranarratives) in such a way that they mirror aspects of the major plot: in this regard, the erotic relationship between the Argonaut (Euphemus) and the foreign maiden brought to Greece parallels and restates on a smaller scale the major story of the Argonautica: Jason also brings to Greece a foreign maiden. The fact that this dream is placed just before the end of the narrative invests Euphemus’s dream with a role as an emphatic miniature recapitulation of the plot. One could perhaps see this as a Hellenistic variation of a “decreasing doublet,” an oral epic technique mentioned previously.

 66 Hunter 2015: 313 ad loc. 67 Loraux 2000: 13–27. 68 Dougherty 1993: 61–80.

Gender Poetics in Pindar and Apollonius  367

Despite the obvious differences in the character with which they invest the episode, Apollonius agrees with Pindar in the mirroring relationship that he constructs between this minor story and the major one: in Pythian 4 the transaction of guest friendship between Eurypylus/Triton and Euphemus parallels that of Jason with Pelias and Aeëtes and ultimately that between Pindar, Damophilus and Arcesilaus. The fact that Euphemus bewails the consummation of his passion for the Libyan maiden reflects the negative elements in the wedding ceremony between Jason and Medea. Unlike Thera/Kalliste who will take good care of Euphemus’s descendants (a reference to the Lemnian episode), Medea will kill Jason’s sons, according to the Euripidean version of the myth. The line of Euphemus is continued, while that of Jason is lost forever.69 A final point of contact between Apollonius and Pindar lies in the important role that Apollo plays in both versions. Medea’s oracular utterance is intricately associated with Apollo and his Delphic oracle. Right after the section on Thera, Medea references Battus’s visit to Delphi. Along similar lines in Apollonius it is Apollo who directs events: Apollo is the god who gives oracles to both Pelias and Jason; and it is Apollo’s plan that Jason explains to Euphemus (4.1747–1748): ὁ δ’ ἔπειτα, θεοπροπίας Ἑκάτοιο | θυμῷ πεμπάζων, ἀνενείκατο φώνησέν τε·, “considering in his mind the oracles of far-shooting Apollo [Hekatoio], he raised his voice and said.” One may venture a hypothesis regarding the designation of Apollo as Ἑκατοῖο. In all three instances this epithet of Apollo is used in the Argonautica (1.958; 2.518), the context relates to foundation stories. In addition, in this use the epithet comes very close to Hecate, the name of the goddess that Medea serves. There could well be a pun which means to bring Jason and Medea closer together by associating the two gods in terms of sounds. The oracular utterance of Jason matches that of Medea in Pythian 4. Both characters have a special narratorial status in the epic. Whereas in Pythian 4 it is Medea who elaborates and completes the story providing the much needed connection with Lemnos, this role falls upon the primary narrator in the Argonautica—a further suggestion of the “collaboration” between Apollonius and Jason.

Gender Poetics in Pindar and Apollonius The first part of Pythian 4 is dominated by the imposing presence and speech of Medea. This is the only section of the poem in which Medea appears. Medea is

 69 Stephens 2003: 192–193.

368  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth almost absent in the extensive narrative that follows. Her only function in Pythian 4 concerns the oracular discourse she delivers. Once she has served her role, Medea cedes the stage to Jason. The events narrated in the first three stanzas of Pythian 4 are included in Apollonius’s book 4. In Apollonius’s epic Medea appears only in the second half. The fact that book 3 has its own proem signals the formal division between the two halves of Apollonius’s epic. The separation of the material in two halves and the association of Medea with only one of them brings both accounts close to each other. Apparently, Medea’s prophetic abilities make her the right person to deliver the oracle that accounts for the founding of Cyrene and the kingship of Arcesilaus’s family. Nonetheless, Medea’s oracular powers are not well established in surviving accounts of the Argonautic expedition. Medea is generally viewed as a powerful witch, a representation several poets such as Sophocles (TGrF4 fr. 534– 536 Radt), Euripides (Medea), Theocritus (2.16), and Apollonius subscribe to. Her priesthood and magic powers do not necessarily involve powers of foretelling the future. All things considered, Medea’s function in Pythian 4 concerns explicating events and unraveling their potentiality in shaping the time to come rather than viewing the future as such in an unalterable fixity. Medea situates events against a temporal background that defies the confines of here and now but includes a panoramic view of time more typical of gods such as the Muses.70 Medea’s epos includes two parts: the future of the Argonauts and their past. Her knowledge comes close to epic representation of seers and poets.71 Knowledge of the past is guaranteed through divine assistance and cannot be taken for granted.72 With regard to the future of the Argonauts, Medea describes events that fall outside their life span (e.g. Battus) but also one that is much closer to them— that is, Euphemus’s loss of the Libyan clod of earth (38–39, πεύθομαι δ᾽ αὐτὰν κατακλυσθεῖσαν ἐκ δούρατος | ἐναλίαν βᾶμεν σὺν ἅλμᾳ). Medea’s use of πεύθομαι is peculiar since Medea has already been travelling with Euphemus and ought to have first-hand knowledge of the incident. Medea does not have eyewitness experience of the event, but relies upon her powers of divine inspiration instead.73 Here we can draw a first parallel with Medea’s metapoetic gaze in Apollonius.  70 For divine perception of time, see Sigelman 2016: 1–7. For Medea as a Muse see Spentzou 2002. 71 The seer Calchas (Il. 1.70, ὃς ᾔδη τά τ’ ἐόντα τά τ’ ἐσσόμενα πρό τ’ ἐόντα) and the Hesiodic bard (Theog. 32, ἵνα κλείοιμι τά τ’ ἐσσόμενα πρό τ’ ἐόντα) share part of the same formula, which ultimately reflects the singing power of the Muses themselves (Theog. 38). 72 Mackie 2003: 78–86. See also A.D. Morrison 2007b 274–275. 73 Cf. Duchemin 1967: 114 ad loc. O’Higgins 1997: 115n37 points out the implications of “oracular knowledge” in the use of πεύθομαι.

Gender Poetics in Pindar and Apollonius  369

Like her Pindaric counterpart, Apollonius’s Medea effectively distances herself from the action in which she participates and acquires a panoptic view of the whole story.74 The contrafactual note that Medea includes in lines 43–49 suggests that Medea like the Muse is privy to accounts of the story with different outcomes. In Medea’s eyes each moment is fraught with various possibilities some of which materialize while others do not. In this her approach imitates divine gaze: although the outlines of the future are more or less set, what actually happens depends on mortal action. In this specific case, the link between the Dorian people and the foundation of Cyrene is indispensable; however, Euphemus’s negligence means that the story of Thera interferes creating complications that do not frustrate divine plans. Access to such knowledge sets Medea apart from the Argonauts, and her separation from them is formally represented by the fact that she has the first section to herself, while the Argonauts take the second section. Medea explains the significance of this event and in so doing offers a potent model for Pindar himself. Pindar, like Medea, approaches known facts but negotiates emphasis and focalization in such a way so that it suits his commission and the circumstances of his laudandus. Prophecies are scarce in Pindaric odes.75 With the exception of the very short prophecies of Apollo about the destruction of Troy by Aeacus’s descendants in Olympian 8 (42–46), prophecies are a convenient means whereby Pindaric characters complete the mythological part of odes, laying the emphasis on aspects of the story relevant to the praise of the victorious athlete. For instance, Chiron’s prophecy to Apollo in Pythian 9 describes the union of Apollo with Cyrene and its product, Aristaeus (50–65). Similarly, Teiresias in Nemean 1 situates the prodigious feat of infant Heracles against the background provided by a summary of Heracles’s heroic career. Within the Pindaric corpus, Medea’s role comes close to that of Chiron in Pythian 9 or Teiresias in Nemean 1.76 With the former she shares the shame adjective: ζαμενής, “inspired” (Slater 1969 s.v. a).77 In addition to this, Pythian 4 and 9 share a similar structure and colonial imagery. Chiron’s role is predicated, in all probability, on his traditional role as dispenser of wisdom. His discourse to Apollo reveals the colonial future of Cyrene. The fact that this is mo-

 74 One can compare Jason’s use of πεύθομαι (109) to refer to Pelias’s usurpation of the throne of Iolcus. 75 A list is provided by Maslov 2015: 193. 76 Cf. Mackie 2003: 81n10. 77 See also Maslov 2015: 195.

370  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth tivated by Cyrene’s victory over the lion brings him closer to Pindar’s role as epinician poet.78 Both Chiron and Pindar address a poetic utterance to the viewers, celebrating a victor and elaborating on the import of the achievement. Cyrene’s prowess contributes to the community of her father but also leads to the founding of a new one in Libya. In Nemean 1, Teiresias is a textual surrogate of the poet: he establishes the significance of Heracles’s achievement as a sign of his innate excellence and foretells future services to both humanity and the gods.79 From this point of view, Medea too performs a metapoetic role similar to that of Chiron and Teiresias. For all her powerful prophetic powers, Medea is peripheral to the action, her involvement in Pindar’s account of the myth being minimal. Like Pindar, Chiron, and Teiresias, Medea does not act. She offers a commentary on the events rather than help to shape them.80 By contrast in the relevant section of the Argonautica Medea takes part in the plot and furthers the action: she puts the Colchian dragon to sleep, enchants her brother, Apsyrtus, and destroys Talos. All this is passed over in silence by Pindar’s Abbruchsformel. A possible reason for Medea’s relative inactivity consists of the generic demands of epinician poetry. Women hardly feature in the odes, and, when they do, they are the objects of male actions rather than the subjects of the action described. Accordingly, Pindar’s perception of Medea is one-sided. Medea is a powerful oracle; she assists Jason in overcoming Aeëtes’s task, and kills Pelias. But these acts either fall outside the narrative proper or are grammatically subordinated to the actions of the male agent. Pindar refers to Jason’s winning Medea over through the agency of erotic magic, but the approach is superficial. Apollonius offers a more nuanced and detailed account of Medea, dwelling on her emotional responses and inner world. By this means, as Calvin Byre (2002: 79–80) argues, Apollonius often makes us sympathize more with Medea than with Jason, whose innermost thoughts remain as a rule inscrutable to the reader. All this, as is expected, is not to be found in Pindar. Apollonius makes use here of other genres: epic, tragedy, probably even erotic elegy. Pindar did not have such resources or even inclinations. Nonetheless, Apollonius agrees with Pindar in attributing a metapoetic function to Medea. This concerns Medea’s dream following her first encounter with Jason in her

 78 For the Pindaric poet as a prophet, see Mackie 2003: 78–87; Maslov 2015: 188–201; Sigelman 2016: 45–46 and passim. 79 Mackie 2003: 62–63. 80 Distance from the events unfolding is typical of the prophetic figures Pindar usually employs in his ode to unravel the significance of these events: Sigelman 2016: 45.

Gender Poetics in Pindar and Apollonius  371

father’s palace (3.616–632).81 Medea’s dream offers a unique feminine take on the narrative, reflecting her true role therein. Although Medea’s perception of the story entails considerable wishful thinking, it puts her true role and significance in the right perspective.82 In Medea’s dream Jason arrives in Colchis not on account of the golden fleece but in order to woo her. Furthermore, instead of Jason actually performing the difficult task that will help him acquire the fleece, it is Medea who yokes the firebreathing bulls.83 The dream concludes with Medea’s parents finding out the truth about her involvement with Jason and her flight from Colchis. Medea’s version prioritizes her role in the narrative and looks forward to her flight. Seen from a formalist point of view, Medea is the “helper,” through whose agency the “hero” (i.e. Jason) fulfills the difficult task set to him.84 Typically, in such story patterns the “helper” is also the “prize.” Medea conflates her two roles, relegating the acquisition of the fleece to a secondary position. She also flatters herself that she is the true object of Jason’s interest. The interplay between the fleece and Medea throws into relief the importance of separating semblance from truth in the Argonautica. Medea misconstrues Jason’s intentions. But this is only part of a wider picture, which also includes Jason misinterpreting divine support and intentions. Medea is right in one thing. As Apollonius’s narrative progresses and Hera’s plot becomes open to the scrutiny of the reader, it becomes obvious that the real goal of the expedition, at least in Apollonius’s version, is not so much the golden fleece, but Medea herself. This explains why so little space is devoted to the actual stealing of the fleece in Apollonius’s narrative.85 Unbeknownst to her Medea is in a way right after all. Nonetheless, Medea is not meant for Jason. She is the agent of Hera’s hatred and the means of wreaking havoc. Her future is to be with Achilles, presented as a baby in the first book. In this regard, Apollonius agrees with Pindar. Pindar never loses sight of the ominous, demonic powers of Medea. Her last mention in both Pythian 4 and the Argonautica represents her as a murderer.  81 Campbell 1983: 37–39. 82 Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 457 on 616–632; Cusset 2001: 215; Green 2007: 269 ad loc. 83 As Clauss (1997: 160) explains, Medea subconsciously identifies with the object of her desire. See also Kessels 1982: 158–161. Hunter 2015: 237 ad loc. 84 For the formalist terms used, see Propp 1968. Clauss 1997 offers an excellent discussion of Medea as the “maiden-helper.” See also Beye 1982: 42–43. The story, as conceptualized by Medea, follows a story pattern common in many myths; see, in particular, Gresseth 1974. 85 Here lies an important similarity between Pindar and Apollonius: both poets focus on Jason’s success and Medea’s important help. The stealing of the fleece is treated in both versions summarily.

372  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth The similarities between Apollonius and Pindar in terms of gender representation go deeper than just the evil potential of Medea. The close proximity of Medea as Pelias’s killer and the Lemnian women in Pythian 4 intimate the common ground that women share in the world of the Argonautic expedition. Like Medea, the women of Lemnos are to be feared: they have killed their husbands, and, if the Argonauts are not careful, a similar fate could await them.86 Pindar does not elaborate on this part of the myth. He is content to focus on the success of the Argonauts who overcome this danger and use the Lemnian women to their advantage, creating a new race that will populate Cyrene. On the other hand, Apollonius develops the idea he finds in Pindar, repeatedly stressing the ominous aspect of female characters. With the exception of Jason’s mother and Medea’s sister Chalciope, there is not a single female person in Apollonius’s epic that does not threaten the Argonauts.87 For both Pindar and Apollonius, women are dangerous opponents that need to be thwarted.88 The Lemnian women, for instance, are compared to flesh-eating Maenads (1.636) although they never live up to the savagery of their intextextual counterparts. Their lifestyle is influenced by Pindar’s description of Cyrene in Pythian 9. This connection projects upon them Cyrene’s challenging behavior, inviting the Argonauts to restore male authority on the model of Apollo in Pindar’s poem. Pindar conveys Cyrene’s uniqueness through the juxtaposition of typical maidenly employments (18–19: working at the loom and spending time with her girlfriends) with bucolic deeds of prowess, such as fighting off wild beasts preying on her father’s cattle (20–23). Along similar lines, Apollonius contrasts tending the cattle, bearing weapons, and working the land with spinning wool, a task typically associated with Athena (1.627–630). Ironically, it is through the agency of Athena’s cloak that Jason amazes the Lemnian women, and eventually leads them back to their “expected” role as wives and mothers. The theme of female danger in the Argonautica reverberates in a series of mirroring stories that reflect aspects of the main plot. For instance, Hylas is abducted by a nymph that belongs to the circle of Artemis (1.1223–1225). This inset story indicates that in Apollonius’s epic women can overpower men. This reversal of gender dynamics is represented by a nymph abducting a man (Hylas) rather than

 86 Holmberg 1998: 141–142; Cusset 2001: 212–213. 87 Nonetheless, both Chalciope and Alcimede conform to the role epic poetry traditionally assigns to mothers. They try to prevent their sons from leaving their hearth thus thwarting their ability to acquire heroic kleos. Wray 2000: 255–263 discusses the role of women in book 1. 88 Segal 1986: 168; Nyberg 1992: 117–122.

Gender Poetics in Pindar and Apollonius  373

the other way around. One also notes the analogy with Medea, who bears Artemis-like qualities89 and steals the fleece, while Jason looks like a small girl.90 To be sure, Artemis’s association with maidens is traditional in Greek epic. But such comparisons reference Artemis’s beauty, not her violence, which Apollonius borrows from Pindar.91 Provoked by an act of sexual aggression against her own mother, Artemis punishes Tityos (Pythian 4. 90–92). Although Apollo replaces Artemis in punishing Tityos in the ekphrasis of Jason’s cloak, Apollonius registers this aspect of Pindar’s Artemis through the goddess’s association with threatening women. The alarm that the Argonauts feel at Medea’s prophecy (57–59) is a sign of epiphanic manifestation. The Argonauts have just witnessed the divine nature of Medea, and their reaction is typical of mortals encountering divine powers. It is in this light that we should understand Medea’s attribute ζαμενής. Medea’s oracle is an expression of her divine nature, which becomes manifest in her discourse to the Argonauts. The only instance in which Apollonius reveals the divine nature of Medea, coming very close to Pindar’s depiction of her, is the killing of the giant Talos (4.1659–1688). And it is not fortuitous that this scene focuses on the power of her gaze (1670).92 The magical powers of Medea’s gaze are such that she is able to destroy Talos from a considerable distance causing the admiration of the narrator (4.1673–1675). The disbelief the narrator exhibits parallels the fascination of the gathered Argonauts. Pindar incorporates Medea’s divine powers in his representation of her as his textual surrogate. On the contrary, in the Argonautica the scene is part of a progressively ominous revelation of Medea’s demonic potential, alluding to the outcome of her liaison with Jason, as documented in Euripides’s play. Thus, Medea’s encounter with Talos alludes to events to come in a manner similar to Pindar’s juxtaposition of Medea’s killing of Pelias with the Lemnian women.

 89 Stanzel 1999: 271; Kampakoglou 2018: 131–132. 90 Stanzel 1999: 258–259. Pindar goes to great lengths to subordinate Medea to the heroic claims of Jason. Still, it would seem that other versions gave Medea a prominent role. This was apparently the case in both Eumelus’s Corinthiaca and on Cypselus’s chest. In both these versions Jason becomes the king through Medea; see Michelazzo 1975: 43–48; O’Higgins 1997: 120 with n. 52. See also Pietsch 1999: 105–106. 91 In Homer Artemis is generally associated with the unexpected death of (usually but not exclusively young) women: Il. 6.205, 428; 19.59; 24.606; Od. 11.324; 15.478; 20.61–62, 80. Artemis kills Orion at Od. 5.123. 92 Buxton 2002; Hunter 2015: 303 ad loc.

374  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth

The Mythological Narrative Pindar’s direct address to the Muse helps to articulate the structure of the ode more clearly, signaling the transition from the opening part of the poem, which deals primarily with the colonial aspect of the Argonautic expedition, to the actual narrative of the legendary voyage. The epic aspect of this part of the ode is sustained by a comparison with the opening section of Apollonius’s epic. To be sure, Apollonius shapes the opening line of the epic as a hymn to Apollo. Nonetheless right after the four introductory hexameters, the narrator passes immediately to the fateful oracle (5, φάτιν) Pelias had received. Jason references another oracle delivered to him by Apollo. Although the details of this message are never given, the oracle seems to have guaranteed Jason’s success in his endeavor. In this regard, the two oracles become the means through which Apollonius contrasts the stories of the two men and foreshadows the successful conclusion of the expedition. Pindar too starts his narrative proper with the θέσφατον presaging Peleias’s death (71). In both cases, the oracle is misleading: death comes not directly from Jason, as Pelias and the clueless reader suspect, but is channeled through another agent which shares an attribute with Jason.93 In Apollonius, this truth becomes apparent quite late in the narrative when Hera’s hateful plan is revealed in all its details. Jason is never cognizant of the true narrative plan; only Hera’s divine interlocutors are privy to it. Pindar’s approach to this material reflects the Cyrenean origin of the victor and the political message he conveys to Arcesilaus on behalf of Damophilus. Jason functions as a foil to the victor both in terms of his heroism as well as of his leadership and calm disposition. Inasmuch as Arcesilaus reenacts Jason’s heroism, the behavior Pindar advocates in the third section of the ode finds its aition in the details of the myth narrated. Consequently Pindar dwells only on those episodes that also support his role as praise poet and intermediary of Damophilus to King Arcesilaus.94

 93 The oracle and Pelias cast Jason in ambiguous terms as both a citizen and a stranger (78, ξεῖνος αἴτ᾽ ὦν ἀστός; cf. line 97). Jason negates the validity of this classification by proclaiming that he is the son of Aeson and so indigenous (118, Αἴσωνος παῖς ἐπιχώριος οὐ ξείναν…). However, at 118 Medea as a ξεῖνα offers guidance to Jason (118). This last use is peculiar. If nothing else, it is Jason and the rest of the Argonauts who are ξεῖνοι in Medea’s country. The narrator assumes the focalization of Jason, projecting Medea’s future status in Greece. The commonality between Jason and Medea refers back to the oracle. 94 Jason actually does double duty in Pythian 4 offering parallels for both Arcesilaus as leader and Pindar as speaker of efficacious discourse.

The Mythological Narrative  375

On the other hand, directing his audience to the beginning of the myth, Pindar examines in more detail the preliminaries of the expedition. He does this because he can incorporate themes and motifs usual in his praise discourse in the way he presents Jason and his comrades. A structural imbalance is thus created in the mythological narrative of Pythian 4: the poet is more interested in the first stages, where action is limited, and passes over the main events (in other words the epic material) in a perfunctory fashion.95 A similar narratorial imbalance characterizes Apollonius’s Argonautica. Like Pindar Apollonius shows a predilection for descriptions and speeches. Almost half of the first book is taken up by the preparations for the setting off of the Argo and the catalogue of the Argonauts.96 The narrator shows a special interest in the first public appearance of Jason in Iolcus and the reactions of the bystanders and his family. This scene can be fruitfully compared to Jason’s first appearance in Pythian 4 (78–94). The significance of Jason’s public appearance is such that Apollonius employs it again in Lemnos (book 1) and Colchis (book 3) to compare and contrast parts of his narrative. In all these appearances, Jason maintains attributes reminiscent of Pindar’s scene. Another example of peculiar narrative tempo appears in book 3. The narrator describes Jason’s successful completion of the tasks Aeëtes has set to Jason. After the completion of this ἆθλος and the celebrations of the Argonauts, the stealing of the golden fleece is quite short and anticlimactic.97 Similarly, Pindar dwells on the yoking of the fire-breathing bulls but passes over the acquisition of the fleece. Apollonius represents Jason’s departure from Iolcus in book 1 in terms reminiscent of, or at least analogous to, his escape from Iolcus as a baby. By forcing Jason to go on the expedition, Pelias takes advantage of his youthful inexperience. Often lacking the determination of his Pindaric counterpart, Jason looks more vulnerable and so unlikely to succeed. Consideration of psychological verisimilitude weighs upon the way in which Apollonius fashions his account. Pindar’s emphatic juxtaposition between the safety that heroes could enjoy at their mother’s side with the immortal fame that derives from facing death in the pursuit of heroic honor reworks the traditional heroic dilemma that epic heroes such as Pelops in Olympian 1.81–85 are faced with.98 The inclusion of mothers in this  95 Ruck/Matheson 1968: 28. 96 Wray 2000: 247–255. 97 For Apollonius’s tendency to use anticlimactic sequences in his narrative, see Fränkel 1960: 16. 98 Giannini 1995: 478 on 184–187. Although the details may change, the options facing epic heroes are normally the same: death with ensuing kleos or ignominious safety (Achilles, Il. 9; Hector, Il. 22); in the case of Odysseus in Od. 5 safety is associated with immortality by Calypso’s side. By choosing Penelope, Odysseus restates the heroic determination for heroic life with accompanying fame; see Finkelberg 1995: 10.

376  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth context is particularly interesting and could provide a first point of contact between Apollonius’s description of the embarking of the Argonauts and Jason’s escape from Iolcus as a baby. References to mothers are rare in Pindar. They often provide the connecting link to illustrious members of the family. In Pythian 8 (83–87) the inclusion of mothers illustrates the sadness that awaits the defeated athlete at home. Nonetheless, in Apollonius mothers are associated with the safety of the family hearth. Apollonius depicts the dilemma facing each young hero or athlete through the depiction of Jason’s farewell from his elderly parents (1.260–306). The reaction of Jason’s parents recalls the pathetic pleas of Priam and Hecuba to Hector in Iliad 22 to return to the safety of Troy.99 The sentiment is the same in both epics: the safety of home is emphatically contrasted with endangering one’s life in the pursuit of heroic fame.100 Unlike the Homeric parallel, though, Apollonius disturbs the symmetry of the Homeric intertext: instead of presenting the sorrowful reactions of both Jason’s father and mother, he focuses solely on Alcimede’s words, providing only a perfunctory third-person description of Aeson’s reaction (263–264). The limited role Pindar accords to Jason’s mother agrees well with his usual treatment of women in victory songs. An argument that supports the proposed connection between Apollonius and Pindar is to be found in the placement of the reference to mothers in both texts. In both poems mothers appear in very close proximity to the catalogue of the Argonauts that sets the background for the presentation of Jason. Pindar places the reference to the Argonauts’ mothers and Hera right after the short catalogue of divine offspring that decided to join the expedition (170–183). Along similar lines Apollonius introduces the emotional outburst of Alcimede into the narrative, but in a far more complicated fashion. The sequence of events in Pindar’s description of Jason’s return to Iolcus follows a logical pattern. First, Jason returns home. The gathered citizens try to guess the young stranger’s identity, offering a series of possible divine or heroic identities. Jason meets the male members of his family. The expedition is decided and a catalogue of the Argonauts is provided. Hera inspires young men to join the expedition in the pursuit of immortalizing fame. Apollonius consciously reverses the order of the Pindaric narrative in order to focus on the emotions permeating Jason’s departure. The narrative starts with an extensive catalogue of Argonauts that describes their gathering. Jason takes leave of his family. Apollonius compares Jason as he passes through the gathered citizens with Apollo, intimating his heroic bearing.  99 Hutchinson 2006: 124. 100 Scully 1990: 64–68; Wray 2000: 257–263.

The Mythological Narrative  377

Apollonius’s extensive muster of Argonauts is greeted with awe by the gathered citizen of Iolcus. The admiration of these ordinary men and women underlines the gap that separates common men from heroes,101 restating the dilemma that Pindar appends to the end of his catalogue. Apollonius then transitions to Jason’s close circle of acquaintances and friends, focusing on the reaction of Alcimede and Aeson. Their reaction, especially that of Aeson, is unbecoming for the parents of heroes. Aeson is bent down by old age, groaning in bed (263–264, σὺν δέ σφι πατὴρ ὀλοῷ ὑπὸ γήραι | ἐντυπὰς ἐν λεχέεσσι καλυψάμενος γοάασκεν). In his old age, Aeson is associated with the women of the house, whose reactions the narrator has just described (261–262). The heroic deportment of Jason’s father in Pythian 4.120–123 contrasts strongly with Apollonius’s scene: ὣς φάτο· τὸν μὲν ἐσελθόντ’ ἔγνον ὀφθαλμοὶ πατρός· ἐκ δ’ ἄρ’ αὐτοῦ πομφόλυξαν δάκρυα γηραλέων γλεφάρων, ἃν περὶ ψυχὰν ἐπεὶ γάθησεν, ἐξαίρετον γόνον ἰδὼν κάλλιστον ἀνδρῶν.

(120) (121)

so he spoke; his father’s eyes recognized [Jason] upon approaching; tears welled up from under his old eyelids for he was happy in his soul, seeing his splendid offspring, the best of men.

Aeson’s tears are motivated not by fear or old age, as in Apollonius, but rather by pride for his son, by the fact that Jason is an ἐξαίρετος γόνος (“splendid offspring”). The identification of Jason by his father, conveyed through ἔγνον, does not involve solely physical recognition, but also, if not primarily, the acknowledgement of the innate excellence that unites father and son. Aeson is immediately joined by his own brothers, the other senior male members of his family (125–126). The banquet that follows seals the admission of the young hero into the clan. The scene prepares for Jason’s claim to his ancestral throne.102 Obviously the recognition of Jason’s status in the family holds a crucial role in his representation by Pindar, a concern that does not characterize his depiction by Apollonius. Again one can attribute this difference to Pindar’s desire to acknowledge through his myth the tenets of epinician discourse: Jason resembles a victorious athlete. Jason’s proud proclamation of his ancestry to the people of Iolcus (102– 119) is mirrored by Aeson’s pride for his son. Naming one’s father was a typical  101 Kampakoglou 2018: 114–115. 102 Later when Jason addresses Pelias he lays special emphasis on their common descent from Aeolus.

378  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth part of the proclamation of the victorious athlete by the herald. Also, in describing the victor’s innate excellence, Pindar regularly enumerates the exploits of the victor’s father and uncles. However, Jason’s description of his escape in lines 113–115 complicates the intertextual relationship, suggesting another layer to Apollonius’s text. The wailing of women, presumably also of Jason’s mother, is relocated to the past, when Pelias usurped the throne of Iolcus. It was at that point that Jason’s family sent the baby to Chiron. Pindar introduces a purple fabric in this scene that foreshadows Jason’s first public appearance in Iolcus. As in Apollonius all this takes place in the secrecy of the house. The reaction of Jason’s family is occasioned by Pelias’s violent arrogance: Pelias is a ὑπερφίαλος ἡγεμών characterized by hubris (110–111). In describing the amazement of the Iolcians at the gathered Argonauts and the sorrow of Jason’s family, Apollonius includes several references to Pelias’s plan.103 The insecurity and fear of Jason’s escape as a baby is intertextually mirrored in Jason’s embarking as a young man on the Argonautic expedition in the Argonautica. The connection intimates Pelias’s determination to kill Jason and Jason’s helplessness. However, it also contrasts the heroic optimism of Pindar with the sorrowful pessimism of the Hellenistic epic. In the eyes of his family Jason is as helpless as the baby they helped escape in Pindar’s version. Unlike his Pindaric counterpart, Apollonius does not dwell on Jason’s formal training but includes a passing allusion to Chiron’s tutelage (1.33, 554). Apollonius’s narrative focuses on the expedition. The expedition serves as the process through which Jason develops his heroic credentials, thus coming closer to his Pindaric original. Through his interaction with the other Argonauts, the Colchians, and powerful women, Jason learns and develops his skills as a leader.104

From Iolcus to Lemnos Apollonius alters the Pindaric narrative sequence, by relocating the Lemnian episode from the journey home to the outbound phase of the expedition. The Lemnian sojourn was a traditional part of the story as is suggested by the Iliad, which acknowledges the union of Jason and Hypsipyle.105 The episode proved to be quite

 103 1.242 (Πελίαο νόον), 279 (Πελίαο κακὴν βασιλῆος ἐφετμήν). 104 Hunter 1988: 448–453; 1993: 15. See also Segal 1986: 52–71. 105 Euneos, the son of Jason by Hypsipyle, provides the Greek army with wine (Il. 7.468–471; 23.747); Vian 1976–1981: vol.1, XXVIn2, 19–20.

From Iolcus to Lemnos  379

popular and information about various lost versions survives.106 We know, for instance, that Simonides (fr. 267 Poltera = PMG 547) and Aeschylus dealt with it.107 In the surviving literature, Lemnos appears twice in the Pindaric corpus. In addition to the perfunctory mention of it in Pythian 4, Olympian 4 focuses on the games the Argonauts celebrated there possibly in honor of the old king Thoas. Intriguingly, the scholiast (Σ 31b; 32a) adds that the story was narrated also by Apollonius (book 1) and Callimachus in Iamb 8. Callimachus’s version does not survive except for the first line of the poem. But it seems to have focused on a race in which Erginus participated and established the aition for a custom in Aegina. Further particulars are not clear. The scholiast on Pythian 4.451 (fr. 267 Poltera = PMG 547) notes that Simonides describes the prize set: this was an ἐσθής (“piece of clothing”) without any further specification. This detail might be of relevant importance in understanding Apollonius’s treatment of fabrics.108 The Lemnian women are repeatedly associated with pieces of clothing or cloaks.109 Hypsipyle delivers to Jason as a parting gift the cloak that enveloped Dionysus and Ariadne during their love-making. Medea and Jason will use this same cloak to trap Apsyrtus in book 4. In the context of Polydeuces’s duel with Amycus, Apollonius informs us that a Lemnian woman had offered to the son of Zeus a dark-colored cloak as a gift. Jason dons a black cloak, a parting gift from Hypsipyle, before he performs the magical rites of Hecate. Prior to his meeting with Hypsipyle, Jason dresses himself in an elaborate cloak woven by Athena herself. There is a sense of pointed irony here. The Lemnian women are represented as purveyors of costly cloaks—there is nothing peculiar in this: Iliadic women (Helen and Andromache) prepare such fine pieces of raiment for their husbands. In this capacity, it would seem, Athena’s cloak is the proper means to bewitch these women. Accordingly, Apollonius places the emphasis on Jason’s cloak (1.725–773). Jason’s cloak comprises a series of mythological scenes (δαίδαλα) that through their juxtaposition create a sequence of images comparable to what one

 106 Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 19–28. 107 For Simonides’s Argonautic fragments (frr. 265–270 Poltera), see Poltera 2008: 491–495. Aeschylus wrote an Argonautic tetralogy (TGrF3 TRI B XII p. 118 Radt) comprising Argo, Hypsipyle, and probably Cabeiri and Lemnian Women. 108 See A.R. Rose 1985. Duchemin 1967: 146 on 253 connects the cloak offered by Hypsipyle at Pyth. 4.253 with Jason’s cloak in Apollonius. The implications of this connection are examined in more detail by Sbardella 2008. See also Schroeder 1922: 45 on 252/3. 109 Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 23 with n. 2.

380  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth may see on the surface of a vase.110 On the model of Homer’s description of Achilles’s shield, Apollonius includes an ekphrasis of Jason’s cloak.111 The idea of using a cloak as a narrative medium recalls another famous Homeric scene in Iliad 3: when Iris comes to invite Helen to attend the duel between her lover and her husband, she finds Helen weaving a cloak depicting episodes from the war that is still taking place at the time (3.121–128).112 An ancient scholiast remarks perceptively that Homer uses Helen and her fabric as a textual metaphor for his own composition (Σ 126–127): “the poet moulded a worthy model for his own poetry” (ἀξιόχρεων ἀρχέτυπον ἀνέπλασεν ὁ ποιητὴς τῆς ἰδίας ποιήσεως). Consideration of the various parallels that Apollonius has established between the scenes on Jason’s cloak and the major narrative of his epic suggests that Apollonius subscribes to the interpretation of the anonymous scholiast.113 On the Homeric model Apollonius creates his own poetic metaphor, going back to an ancient association of weaving and poetic composition.114 The arrangement of the scenes on Jason’s cloak has exercised scholarly ingenuity.115 The following remarks contextualize the discussion of the allusions to Pindar. The third scene features two gods, Ares and Aphrodite.116 Ares is disarming himself, while Aphrodite uses his shield as a mirror to behold her image (1.742–746). The divine couple recalls a similar pair of gods on Achilles’s shield: Ares and Athena as warrior gods are present among two armies fighting during the siege of an unnamed city (Iliad 18.518–519). The connection between Achilles’s shield and Jason’s cloak is facilitated by the fact that the same technical term

 110 For the meaning of δαίδαλα and its intertextual counterparts, see Kampakoglou 2018: 133. 111 For the ekphrasis as an epic device, see Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 25; Shapiro 1980: 264; Knight 1995: 24–25. 112 Shapiro 1980: 266–271. The connection is supported by the verbal echo (δίπλακα) at A.R. 1.722 ~ Il. 3.126. See also Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 83n2; Clauss 1993: 121; Hunter 1995: 53. The scholiast (Σ 126a) calls attention to a disagreement regarding the attribute of this cloak. Aristarchus and Zenodotus supported πορφυρέην instead of μαρμαρέην. Apollonius probably sides with both Homeric scholars. In addition, one notes the importance of red fabrics throughout Apollonius’s epic; Kampakoglou 2018: 126–134. 113 Hunter 1993: 57–59; DeForest 1994: 96; Knight 1995: 166. 114 Hunter 1993: 56. 115 Lawall 1966: 154–158; Fränkel 1968: 100–103; Shapiro 1980; Fusillo 1985: 300–307; Goldhill 1991: 308–311; Clauss 1993: 120–129; Hunter 1993: 52–59; Manakidou 1993: 102–142; Laizé 1997/ 1998; DeForest 1994: 144–146; Belloni 1995; Chiarini 1998/1999; Bulloch 2006; Green 2007: 216–219; Mason 2016. 116 Preliminary remarks on the importance of the Aphrodite and Ares scene can be found in Kampakoglou 2018: 132–133.

From Iolcus to Lemnos  381

is used to describe scenes on both artifacts—that is, δαίδαλα (Iliad 18.440).117 The replacement of Athena with Aphrodite is significant. Assuming that Athena’s role is to stand by epic heroes,118 this role is now taken by Aphrodite. However, it is Athena who provides the cloak.119 One notes the slow transition from the remit of Athena to that of Aphrodite.120 If Athena is still present on Lemnos, she is eventually replaced completely by Aphrodite in Colchis. In addition, the Lemnian women are suffering under the wrath (μῆνις) of Aphrodite (1.614–615). Aphrodite as goddess of love reduces the significance of weapons: in the Argonautica weapons are just for show, not to be used.121 Viewing Aphrodite checking herself in Ares’s shield means appreciating Apollonius’s ekphrasis in light of its interaction with its major Homeric subtext. The symbiosis of Ares and Aphrodite looks forward to their juxtaposition in Idas’s speech in book 3, where again the issue is the proper way to succeed in the aims of the expedition (558–563). As usual, Idas fails to understand the nature of the story in which he participates, but Apollonius makes sure we do. Apollonius telescopes his whole narrative through the ekphrasis of Jason’s cloak, and this is an aspect of the Lemnian episode we need to keep in mind in examining Pindaric presence therein. The use of δαίδαλα for the scenes on Jason’s cloak also recalls Athena’s role in producing the veil of Pandora in the Hesiodic version of her creation (Theogony 574–575).122 Athena plays an active role in procuring the garment that maximizes the bewitching power of a mortal agent, so much so that it stands to reason to classify this episode as an “allurement scene.” In their usual format, such scenes

 117 Hunter 1995: 53. 118 Müller 1966. In the Iliad Aphrodite interferes in the fray to save her son Aeneas and her protégé Paris. 119 If Apollonius imitates “allurement scenes,” as argued in Kampakoglou 2018: 133, Athena has a role in beautifying mortal characters. On the other hand, Athena seems to be supporting Jason in a series of artistic representations: cf. Schefold 1989: 31 fig. 14 (1), 32 fig. 15 (A). Mason (2016: 185) posits the influence of the Hesiodic Shield of Heracles: Athena supports young heroes in the formative stage of their career. 120 Aphrodite’s role in the earliest stages of the myth is guaranteed by several testimonies. In the Naupactia Aphrodite saves the Argonauts from Aeëtes’s ambush (fr. 6 West); see Huxley 1969: 71; Matthews 1977: 199; Hunter 1989: 15–16; Tsagalis 2017: 385. Cypselus’s chest apparently depicted Aphrodite and Jason standing on both sides of Medea who is seated on a throne. The caption reads: “Jason marries Medea; this Aphrodite commands” (Pausanias 5.18.4). The Olympian scene of book 3 brings the two goddesses together and formally signals the replacement of Athena by Aphrodite. 121 Fusillo 1985: 302–303. 122 Hunter 1995: 53n28.

382  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth concern women, but the gender reversal is typical of Apollonius’s technique.123 Pindar also presents Jason seducing Medea by means of an ἴυγξ. In Colchis, the magic of Eros and Hera has the same effect upon Medea. The Lemnian episode is the first large-scale manifestation of Aphrodite’s power, eventually leading to the extermination of the local male population. As a result of this, the Lemnian women recall aberrant female groups such as the Maenads or the Amazons.124 They pose a threat but also face a crisis of survival. As is pointed out during their assembly, they do not have the means to secure their future. The Argonauts provide help to make up for this lack. This happens, as the narrator informs us, as part of an agreement between Hephaestus, the local patron god, and his consort Aphrodite (1.850–852). The unions between local women and the Argonauts imitate the divine marriage of the two gods. It is ironic in this light that Athena’s cloak testifies to Aphrodite’s perfidious love life. If anything, Aphrodite resembles the Lemnian men who despised their wives and Jason who abandons Hypsipyle. The fact that these men took an interest in their Thracian slaves is not without significance either (1.611–614): Ares, Aphrodite’s lover, is usually associated with Thrace (e.g. Od. 8.361). One may read the scene in Apollonius in light of Demodocus’s song in Odyssey 8. In the Odyssey, lovemaking follows the mention of both gods (266–270), and one could potentially associate Apollonius’s scene with this episode. Could it be that this scene happens before the two lovers are caught by Hephaestus? However this may be, in the Lemnian episode the Argonauts step back in time into a matriarchal society, in which the rule of men (Thoas) has been replaced by that of women (Hypsipyle). Their sojourn looks forward to that in Colchis, a far-off primordial realm. In both cases, divine assistance is required to push forward. Despite their initial warlike appearance, the Lemnian women pose an erotic danger.125 Thus, Aphrodite’s prominence is characteristic of the kind of prowess Jason needs to exhibit in this scene. Pindaric presence can be detected in the episodic narrative that the cloak exhibits, the cloak and its symbolism in respect of Jason’s role and persona, and the chariot race of Pelops and Oenomaus depicted on the cloak. The cloak can help us understand aspects of Apollonius’s treatment of the inherited traditional material. Unlike the parallels that are offered by Helen’s cloak or Achilles’s shield, there is no obvious continuity among the scenes that are described.126 Apollonius

 123 For allurement scenes, see Forsyth 1979. 124 Cusset 2001: 215. 125 Clauss 1993: 132–137. 126 Fränkel 1968: 101–102; Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 177 ad loc.; Belloni 1995.

From Iolcus to Lemnos  383

promotes episodic narrative instead of organic continuity.127 This aspect of the arrangement of the scenes puts in perspective the various scenes included in the epic and underlines the similarity to Pindar’s narrative in Pythian 4.128 Seen from this vantage point, one can comprehend the ease with which Apollonius alters the traditional place of the Lemnian episode. By moving the Lemnian episode to the first book, Apollonius presents it as an obstacle that needs to be overcome if Jason wants to succeed. It is a probe for the challenge awaiting Jason in Colchis, but it also tests Jason’s strength of will.129 In Pythian 4, Medea explains how Euphemus’s story could have ended differently, had Euphemus been more careful with the clod entrusted to him. The Lemnian episode performs a similar role: it encapsulates the salient features of the story providing an alternative ending, which, if it materialized, would compromise Apollonius’s narrative. As is expected, scholars have picked up the various analogies between Hypsipyle and Medea.130 In both episodes Jason encounters an impressive female figure, whose consort he becomes. Both women offer Jason a garment of sorts associated with immortality and kingship. Hypsipyle, in fact, outright offers Jason the kingship, but he declines. Instead Jason carries away a token of royalty and immortality: Dionysus’s cloak, from which divine fragrance still wafts. Medea offers Jason the golden fleece, also a talisman of royalty and by virtue of its imperishable nature a token of immortality. Also, recalling the cloak of Dionysus that welcomed Dionysus and Ariadne’s lovemaking, the golden fleece will serve in book 4 as the bedcover for the wedding night of Jason and Medea (4.1141–1143). In a tradition associated with Simonides (PMG 576) the fleece is said to be red like the cloaks Jason wears and the one he receives from Hypsipyle. The interchangeability of the two colors is well documented in our sources. They both establish Jason’s royal claim on a more secure basis. Jason’s appearance on Lemnos has no formal parallels in Pindar. Nonetheless, his procession through Lemnos recalls his first public appearance in Iolcus.131 Awe and attraction bring both scenes close to each other. In Iolcus, Jason wears a Magnesian cloak and over this a leopard pelt (79–80). Here he dons a red cloak. The color is not without meaning. Red is a color of brightness and so interchangeable with white and gold. It further alludes to the brilliance that usually

 127 Salient comments in Belloni 1995, particularly 143–144. See also Beye 1982: 21–22. 128 For the episodic character of Apollonius’s narrative, see Goldhill 1991: 296. 129 Cusset 2001: 212–213. 130 Vian 1976–1981: vol. 1, 24; Bulloch 2006: 48–49. 131 Stephens 2018b: 124–126.

384  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth surrounds Apollo and the golden fleece Jason is seeking. Pindar associates a similarly colored fabric with Jason as a baby. When they helped him escape, Jason’s parents covered the baby in red swaddles (114, “they sent him away secretly covered in red swaddles,” κρύβδα πέμπον σπαργάνοις ἐν πορφυρέοις). This is a sign of Jason’s royal status.132 The cloak brings together several distinct mythological episodes. The first reference is to the period before Zeus established his rule: the Cyclops are forging Zeus’s weapon, the thunderbolt. In view of their close association with Zeus’s ascendancy in the Hesiodic Theogony,133 the context for this image is quite likely the battle of the Olympian gods against the Titans. The second scene fast-forwards to a time after Zeus’s supremacy has been consolidated. Human civilization is making its first steps, and the emphasis falls on the Boeotian city of Thebes.134 The point of interest is the fact that Thebes lacks fortification. As Scully (1990: 24–25) has shown, similar discourse in the Iliad indicates that the line separating civilized life from wild nature is not drawn yet. The two founding heroes, Amphion and Zethos, combine power and music to create Thebes: they exemplify the attributes of the ideal hero and leader;135 strength with harmonious rule, translating in this regard Zeus’s ideal into human terms. The third scene concerns Ares and Aphrodite. In its immediate context the pair exemplify love and war as forces that shape history.136 One such example is offered in the next scene. The fight of the Teleboans with Electryon’s sons is the background to the story of Heracles’s birth. There follows the episode of Pelops competing with Oenomaus. Athletic competition is part of cultured life as it progresses alongside war and love. Both aspects

 132 Braswell 1988: 204 on 114 (b); Giannini 1995: 461 ad loc. Laizé 1997/1998: 101, 108 views red as the color of the warrior class. Epic diction often couples πορφύρεος with either θάνατος, “death” (Il. 5.83; 16.334; 20.477) or αἷμα, “blood” (Il. 17.360–361). Particularly ominous for the association of πορφύρεος with baby Jason in Pythian 4 is Little Iliad fr. 29 West, which describes the death of Astyanax using the formula ἔλλαβε πορφύρεος θάνατος καὶ μοῖρα κραταιή. 133 Feeney 1991: 68; Mason 2016: 188. The Cyclopes provide Zeus with thunderbolt and lightning (Theog. 140–141), which he uses in his war against the Titans (Theog. 690–691, 699, 708). Zeus uses a thunderbolt to defeat Typhon in A. R. 2.1211–1215. Note Orpheus’s cosmogony 1.509– 511. See also Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 177 on 730–734; DeForest 1994: 143 with n.1; Bulloch 2006: 57. 134 Hunter 1995: 54. The selection of Thebes reflects its antiquity (“Ogygian Thebes,” at A.R. 3.1178). The fact that in 3.1176–1187 Thebes and Colchis “share” the teeth of Ares’s Theban dragon reflects the antiquity of the Greek city. For the connection, see Vian 1961: 140; Hunter 1989: 226–227 ad loc. In addition, Apollonius responds to the seven-gated city in Hesiod’s Shield of Heracles (270–272); see Hunter 1995: 55; Mason 2016: 188–189. 135 Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 178–179 ad loc.; DeForest 1994: 144–145. As Clauss 1993: 30–33 has shown, a similar preoccupation permeates the catalogue of Argonauts. 136 Hunter 1995: 54; Laize 1997/1998: 104–109.

From Iolcus to Lemnos  385

of these powers permeate the myth of the Teleboans and that of Pelops and are relevant for Jason’s contest of power with Aeëtes and his flight with Medea.137 The penultimate image concerns Apollo punishing Tityos. The language used for Tityos’s ancestry connects this scene with the first one: Tityos is brought into connection with Gaia, and as such he resembles the foes Zeus fought wielding his thunderbolts. The divine level of this myth creates a ring composition that frames the myths mentioned in between.138 In addition, one notes that Apollo surrogates Zeus.139 Like his father he punishes an offspring of the earth goddess. The story of Tityos acts as an admonition that concludes Apollonius’s mythological history. Love and war condition human and divine history. The story of Tityos brings into focus the theme of measure. After the stories of Heracles’s father and Pelops, it is important to emphasize the superiority of gods, who are beyond the reach of giants and, one may add, hubristic mortals. Along with human progress one senses that the divine family also progresses with Zeus now relying on his son.140 Apollo guarantees the order of Zeus’s rule strengthening the belief in an inherently just universe. This arrangement highlights the progress of civilization under the influence of Ares (νεῖκος) and Aphrodite (φιλότης), the two powers of Empedocles’s system. The cloak recapitulates the salient points of Orpheus’s cosmogony, and like Orpheus’s cosmogony it betrays Empedocles’s philosophy in that it also suggests a progressive consolidation of Zeus’s rule through the birth of his son under the influence of Hesiod and the Homeric hymns.141 Coming right after these myths, the reference to Phrixus and the ram offers the formal link between the myths and the prehistory of the narrative in which they appear. Against the background of the other myths, the injustice done to Phrixus will be made right by Jason. Two important parallels between the myths on the cloak and Jason should be mentioned at this point. First, Zeus’s thunderbolt appears again in the epic in connection with Jason’s expedition. It suggests

 137 Fusillo 1985: 303–304; DeForest 1994: 145–146. 138 Hunter 1995: 52n26. Apollonius combines two different versions regarding Tityos’s mother; see Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 181 ad loc. 139 Apollo replaces Zeus, and along similar lines, one may add, that Jason replaces Heracles. For the analogy between Apollo and Jason in these lines, see Clauss 1993: 126. 140 Clauss 2000. 141 For Empedoclean echoes in Apollonius’s epic, see Kyriakou 1994b; Hunter 1993: 163–165; DeForest 1994: 92–93. Pace Feeney 1991: 68, I do not find any clear evidence in the Argonautica that Zeus is “amoral” or “supramoral” nor that he is any different in his actions from his Homeric or Hesiodic counterparts. For Zeus as guarantor of order and justice, see Pietsch 1999: 46n68, 202–204.

386  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth therefore the approval and support of the god as in Pindar.142 Second, Apollo’s punishment of Tityos recalls the mentions of the impious Aloadae in Pindar’s Pythian 4. The emphasis falls here on his chthonian nature, a theme that, as we have seen, permeates the battle of Heracles against the Gēgeneis in Cyzicus, his defeat of the Hesperides’ serpent, Polydeuces’s defeat of Amycus, and Jason’s ἆθλος in Colchis.143 Pindar adds that the expedition happens because of Phrixus’s displeasure (Pyth. 4.159–160).144 The mention of Phrixus in this context recalls parts of the prehistory of the expedition, a phase which Apollonius unlike Pindar ignores. Nonetheless, the mention of Phrixus at the end of the ekphrasis is a reminder of his role in the Pindaric narrative. The relevance of Pindar in these lines is suggested by the analogy between the catalogue of mythological heroes and gods in Pythian 4 (86–92) and those depicted on the cloak. Pindar uses bystanders to offer foils to Jason as they lay their eyes upon the mysterious stranger. Along similar lines, the various myths depicted on Jason’s cloak suggest paragons to Jason. These are divine: Zeus, Apollo, Ares; or heroic: Amphion, Zethus, and Pelops. Jason is meant to combine attributes these characters demonstrate in their respective myths. Anatole Mori (2008: 102–113) associates the cloak with Jason’s role as the leader of the expedition.145 This interpretation is not only supported by the formal parallel of Agamemnon’s red cloak in Iliad 8146 but also by the mythological characters mentioned on it. Military prowess (Ares), justice (Apollo), strength (Amphion), diplomacy (Zethus), cunning (Pelops) make up aspects of the role to which Jason aspires. The technique is Pindaric both in its conception and execution, and the analogy with the similar list in Pythian 4 supports this interpretation. Against this background, Jason’s appearance on Lemnos recalls Jason’s arrival in Iolcus in Pythian 4. Unaware of the true identity of the young man they see

 142 At 1.510 (Orpheus’s cosmogony) the thunderbolt symbolizes Zeus’s ultimate supremacy. In the story of Phaëthon (4.597), the thunderbolt is Zeus’s means of punishing hubris (also relevant for Typhon in 2.1211–1215). Finally, at 4.520 Zeus’s thunderbolt thwarts the emigration of the Colchians, an indication of Zeus’s rule of the universe and planning; see also Bulloch 2006: 57–58, 60n22. 143 A.R. Rose 1984: 123–124; Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 181–182 ad loc.; Hunter 1993: 58; Knight 1995: 166; Clauss 2000: 16. 144 Duchemin 1955: 271; Giannini 1995: 471–472 ad loc. 145 So also Lawall 1966: 154 and Bulloch 2006: 58 “[Jason’s] cloak … reinforce[s] the wearer’s image as a man of power and prestige on a war-like mission, in which he will achieve success with divine sanction.” 146 Il. 8.221, on which see Kelly 2007b: 236–237, who also notes the threatening and distressing implications of the color.

From Iolcus to Lemnos  387

before them, the assembled Thessalians compare him with a series of divine and semi-divine beings, which, as in Apollonius, shed light on different aspects of Jason’s role as a hero (87–92): ‘Οὔ τί που οὗτος Ἀπόλλων, οὐδὲ μὰν χαλκάρματός ἐστι πόσις Ἀφροδίτας· ἐν δὲ Νάξῳ φαντὶ θανεῖν λιπαρᾷ Ἰφιμεδείας παῖδας, Ὦτον καὶ σέ, τολμάεις Ἐπιάλτα ἄναξ. καὶ μὰν Τιτυὸν βέλος Ἀρτέμιδος θήρευσε κραιπνόν, ἐξ νικάτου φαρέτρας ὀρνύμενον, ὄφρα τις τᾶν ἐν δυνατῷ φιλοτάτων ἐπιψαύειν ἔραται.’

(87)

(89) (90)

This man is surely not Apollo nor Aphrodite’s consort with the bronze armor; the story goes that the sons of Iphimedeia, Otos and you, lord Ephialtes, died on bright Naxos. Besides, Artemis’s arrow, impossible to resist, was called forth from her quiver to hunt down swift Tityos, schooling one to seek in love what is possible.

Jason’s brilliance and unshorn locks (79–82) suggest to the onlookers his similarities to Apollo; his two spears to Ares. The comparison of Jason to Apollo parallels a similar comparison between the hero and the god made by Apollonius in 1.306– 310.147 Unlike Apollonius, though, the Pindaric comparison conveys uncertainty through the inclusion of οὔ τί που at line 87.148 Furthermore, in Pythian 4 Apollo is just one of the five possible options the gathered Thessalians entertain with regard to Jason’s true identity. The mention of Ares is significant inasmuch as Ares offers a divine foil to Jason in both Lemnos (1.743) and Colchis (3.1357–1358) in the Argonautica. In 3.1282–1283, Apollonius compares Jason with both gods just before he engages in the ἄεθλος.149 Unlike Apollo, Pindar does not mention Ares explicitly. Instead, Ares is subordinated to his consort Aphrodite. Pindar acknowledges in this manner that Aphrodite will play a prominent role in the success of the endeavor by putting at Jason’s disposal the means to seduce Medea.150 The comparison of Jason to Ares also conveys his sexual appeal: if Jason is good enough to be compared to Aphrodite’s lover, he will enchant the virginal  147 Christ 1896: 154 on 87; Braswell 1988: 182–183 on 87–88; Stephens 2018b: 124. 148 Braswell 1988: 182 on 86(c). 149 For the connection, see Köhnken 2000: 65; A.D. Morrison 2007b: 279–280. 150 Giannini 1995: 485 on 213.

388  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth Medea. Pindar’s relegating of Ares to a secondary position attracts Apollonius’s attention: in his rendition of this scene, Aphrodite gets the better of Ares, using his shield as a mirror. The two Aloadae, Otos and Ephialtes, reflect two defining elements of Jason’s persona: Otos was divinely handsome, while Ephialtes a valiant warrior (Odyssey 11.308).151 The fact that the Aloadae were also hubristic giants adds an ominous aspect to Jason’s appearance: it intimates Jason’s potential, but it also implies that it should be curbed lest he become hubristic.152 Such intimations are entirely absent from Jason’s image in the Argonautica. The sense of alarm that Jason’s appearance causes to the viewers escalates with the ominous comparison of Jason to Tityos.153 A neat ring composition articulates these lines. Pindar starts with Apollo and concludes with the god’s sister Artemis. For Apollonius’s reader this recalls the comparison of Medea with Artemis in 3.876– 886. Despite these similarities, there is a significant incongruity with regard to the way in which Pindar and Apollonius employ the myth of the Aloadae in their versions: Pindar uses them as parallels for Jason, while Apollonius associates them instead with Jason’s foil, Idas.154 In the first quarrel between Idmon and Idas, prior to the embarkment of the Argo, Idas is represented as a replica of the Aloadae giants (482): Idas resembles them in his reckless boasting and bravado, but not in their ἠνορέη (“manhood”).155 σὺ δ’ ἀτάσθαλα πάμπαν ἔειπας. τοῖα φάτις καὶ τοὺς πρὶν ἐπιφλύειν μακάρεσσιν υἷας Ἀλωιάδας, οἷς οὐδ’ ὅσον ἰσοφαρίζεις ἠνορέην, ἔμπης δὲ θοοῖς ἐδάμησαν ὀιστοῖς ἄμφω Λητοΐδαο, καὶ ἴφθιμοί περ ἐόντες.

(480)

You spoke in a reckless manner altogether. The sons of Aloeus, whose manhood you cannot match, are said to have burst out in words against the immortal gods in the past like you. All the same, despite their strength both were tamed with the swift arrows of Leto’s son.

 151 Giannini 1995: 454 ad loc. 152 Segal 1986: 29. 153 Schroeder 1922: 40 ad loc. 154 Fränkel 1968: 75 on 462–494. For Idas as a foil to Jason, see Fränkel 1960. 155 Twice at 3.189 and 3.512 ἠνορέη signifies a course of action that the Argonauts reject in their dealings with Aeëtes. The reason for this is not their cowardice. The poet suggests that in this epic ἠνορέη is to be exhibited in specific contexts, which will further the success of the expedition: e.g. the task performed by Jason (3.1053).

From Iolcus to Lemnos  389

Several terms suggest that Idas is not a positive, sympathetic character.156 First, he insults Zeus (467–469): in this he recalls Capaneus.157 More likely though, the reader is supposed to recall here the fact that Idas was also killed by Zeus’s thunderbolt (like Capaneus).158 χαλίκρητον (“unmixed”) of the wine Idas drinks at line 473 is perhaps a criticism of Idas’s drinking. ἀτάσθαλα at 480 recalls the ἀτασθαλίη the poet of the Odyssey presents as the reason for the demise of Odysseus’s comrades (Odyssey 1.7). Apollonius’s treatment of Idas suggest that Idas is a literary device that underlines the positive aspects of Jason’s heroic status. For sure, Otus, Ephialtes, and Tityos are not positive models. But this is not the point of interest of the Thessalians. Jason is an ominous figure: he can be a god or a hubristic giant. Jason is wondrous (79); his limbs are admirable (80). His appearance is greeted with religious awe (86, ὀπιζομένων).159 θαητός is a favorite word with Pindar. In its other occurrences it is combined with causing a feeling of amazement mixed with fear or sexual attraction. Tyrtaeus’s use of the word puts Jason’s appearance into perspective (fr. 10.29 W2): the young soldier who lays down his life in the field of battle was an object of admiration by men and love by women while in life (ἀνδράσι μὲν θηητὸς ἰδεῖν, ἐρατὸς δὲ γυναιξὶ).160 As in Homer, beauty goes with valor, and prepares for willingness to gain kleos even if this means giving up one’s life. The connotations of this prepare for the impression that Jason will make on Medea later in Colchis.161 At any rate, Jason needs to be approached with circumspection. Encounters with gods are as dangerous as meetings with violent giants. The implications of hubris that the last two myths communicate reflect also the impiety of comparing a mortal man with a god. Jason should not be excessive. He is mortal; this is a lesson he needs to heed if he  156 Fränkel 1960; Vian 1978–1981: vol. 1, 111n2; Goldhill 1991: 314; Hunter 1988: 438–439; 1995: 19–20. 157 Fränkel 1960: 8n11. Cf. Aesch. Sept. 422–436 (with Lupaş/Petre 1981: 140–145 and Hutchinson 1985: 113 ad loc.); Eur. Phoe. 1172–1186. 158 Cf. Nem. 10.71; Theoc. 22.210–11. See also Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 143–145 ad loc. Fränkel 1960: 8–9 suggests connections between Idas and other blasphemous heroes such Caeneus and Parthenopaeus. 159 Duchemin 1967: 120–121 ad loc. 160 Tyrtaeus stays closer to the Iliadic representation of manly beauty, presenting beauty in the context of the warriors’ deaths; see Griffin 1980: 134–137 (“beauty brought low motif”) and Vernant 1979; 1980. 161 Although Apollonius does not emphasize Jason’s desire to win everlasting fame, at least not to the extent of the average Homeric warrior, there are some such references, as Clauss (1997: 149–150 with n.6) points out: 1.206, 351, 1292; 4.205. Jason undertakes the expedition at Pelias’s behest. One might argue that he could have declined to do so. That he does not implies that he is willing to embrace the dangers involved in it. See Pietsch 1999: 61.

390  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth wants to succeed. The Pindaric ne plus ultra maxim is filtered through the catalogue. Should he forget this, Jason risks the end of the Aloadae or Tityos. Nonetheless, the emphasis is not on hubris generally, but on hubris in the remit of Aphrodite.162 This is an old adage. Alcman’s first maiden song reminds us that selecting one’s mate is a crucial decision.163 Jason acknowledges these fears indirectly through his public discourse in which he calls attention to his propriety in speech. In twenty years, Jason has never uttered a shameful word to Chiron and his family (105, ἔπος ἐντράπελον). Interestingly, Jason places the emphasis on the female members in Chiron’s family: his wife Chariclō, his mother Philyra, and his two maiden daughters (103– 104). Particularly with regard to the last two, Jason’s conduct shows him to be self-controlled in matters of sexual propriety, undermining the ominous suggestions in the catalogue of the preceding lines. One notes here the parallel with Apollonius. When Jason goes out to meet Hypsipyle, he carries a spear (1.769– 773) as he also does in Pythian 4 (78–79). The spear belongs to Atalanta. Apollonius comments that Jason declined to let Atalanta participate in the expedition lest she compromise the harmony of the group of male heroes.164 Jason’s remarkable self-restraint places him above his comrades, whose abilities of restraint Jason underrates. Through Atalanta’s spear Apollonius combines Jason’s two aspects as a warrior and lover. Indeed it is Atalanta’s spear that confirms Jason’s status as a spearman, looking back to his Pindaric representation in Iolcus.165 Pindar calls Jason a “spearman” (12, αἰχματάο). In the Illad this attribute modifies first-class warriors such as Achilles (1.290), Diomedes (6. 97 = 278), Agamemnon (3.179), Hector (5.603), and Glaucus (16.493). Achilles’s address to Hector in 22.268–269 (νῦν σε μάλα χρὴ | αἰχμητήν τ’ ἔμεναι καὶ θαρσαλέον πολεμιστήν, “now is the time for you to be a spearman and courageous warrior”)  162 Segal 1986: 67–68; 131. Lawall 1966: 156 makes a similar point regarding the presence of Tityos on Jason’s cloak. 163 “Let no man fly to the sky | nor attempt to marry Aphrodite” (Alcman PMGF 1.16–17 ([μή τις ἀνθ]ρώπων ἐς ὠρανὸν ποτήσθω |[ μηδὲ πη]ρήτω γαμῆν τὰν Ἀφροδίταν). For a discussion of the text with references, see Tsantsanoglou 2012: 120–126. Jason’s expedition also entails Jason’s developing the ability to overcome threats or temptations of a sexual nature; see Lawall 1966: 150–151; Segal 1986: 52–68. 164 Fränkel 1968: 104 ad loc.; Vian 1976–1981: 86n1; Paduano/Fusillo 1986: 183–185 on 769– 773. 165 In Iolcus, however, Jason carries two spears: αἰχμαῖσιν διδύμαισιν ἀνὴρ ἔκπαγλος “a terrible | awe-inspiring man with two spears” (79). For double spears: cf. e.g. Paris (Il. 3.18), Agamemnon (Il. 11.43), Patroclus (Il. 16.139), Achilles (Il. 22.145). Pindar’s depiction of Jason comes very close to that of both Paris and Agamemnon: in addition to the spears, all three men also wear a leopard skin (Il. 3.17; 11.29). See Fennell 1893: 194; Schroeder 1922: 39 ad loc.; Burton 1962: 154.

From Iolcus to Lemnos  391

suggests that being an αἰχμητής presupposes a set of rules about conduct on the field of battle. Hector will prove that he is a “spearman and brave warrior” by facing his opponent and welcoming death. Being αἰχμητής is not empty praise; rather it raises Jason to the level of Homeric heroes, implying that he is ready to risk his life in the pursuit of kleos. The spear of Atalante confirms Pindar’s designation of Jason as αἰχμητής. Pindar also calls Jason ἔκπαγλος. This attribute offers further points of contact between Jason and Iliadic heroes. Achilles is typically addressed as “son of Peleus, most terrible of all men” (1.146, Πηλεΐδη πάντων ἐκπαγλότατ’ ἀνδρῶν). Pindar attributes the same epithet to other heroes such as Ajax (Isthm. 6.54) and Diomedes (fr. 169.13 Sn.-M.). The epic language Pindar uses casts Jason as a Homeric hero and suggests that his arrival causes reactions similar to those of Achilles’s presence.166 This image of heroic grandeur is problematized through the inclusion of another foil from the Trojan side this time.167 It has been noted that in his first public appearance in Pythian 4 Jason bears unmistakable traces of Paris. They both hold two spears, and they both wear pelts of leopard.168 In addition to suggesting their prowess as big game hunters, the pelt adds an aspect of eroticism to their person. One might argue that Pindar, or his source, uses formulaic language that could have described indiscriminately Paris and Jason or any other hero for that.169 Formulaic parallels (e.g. the application of the withdrawal motif to both Paris and Achilles in the Iliad)170 might imply a constrast between the young men. Even so, the fact that the same language would have been used for both personages could indicate that Pindar and possibly the tradition before him viewed Jason or, at least, one aspect of Jason’s character, in a similar light. Paris is an ambiguous parallel to use. Although Paris is a lesser hero by any reckoning, he retains some heroic aspects. As scholars have noted, he is credited with grand heroic achievements such as the siege of Sidon and the killing of Achilles.171 Without a doubt Paris was a convenient figure for Pindar or his predecessors to use for the simple reason that Paris, more than any other hero, makes  166 Braswell 1988: 174–175 on 79(b); Giannini 1995: 451 on 78–79. 167 Pindar’s technique in these lines is similar to that in lines 87–92. Instead of naming explicitly Homeric heroes, Pindar suggests them through intertextual echoes. 168 Gildersleeve 1908: 289 on 79. 169 One can compare Theseus’s appearance in Bacch. 18.46–59. The language bears similarities to both Jason in Pythian 4 and Paris (note line 50 ~ Il. 3.336); see Maehler 1997: 232–239. 170 Collins 1987. 171 Taplin 1992: 101–103; Fagan 2001: 121–133. Fagan makes the useful point that it is Aphrodite’s influence that keeps Paris from performing as is expected of him. After his return to the battlefield, Paris is never shown again in the confines of his house as in Il. 3.

392  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth use of his sexuality and beauty. In his defence against his brother Hector in Iliad 6 Paris attributes these gifts to the patronage of Aphrodite, another element that Jason and Paris have in common. The association of these two young men with divine women (Helen and Medea respectively) strengthens the parallel between Paris and Jason. The intertextual echoes of the Iliad in these lines manifest aspects of Pindar’s technique with regard to his characterization of Jason. First of all, we see that both Pindar and Apollonius rely on their audiences to read their Jasons in light of Homeric characters.172 Second, Pindar’s technique provides subtle, if not veiled, indications about his judgment of Jason in a manner that foreshadows the tendencies of Apollonius’s narrator. Viewing Jason as another Achilles or Paris casts an ambigious light on him. Martial prowess is certainly the intended aspect of the comparison. Nonetheless, Pindar also implies recklessness and excessive behavior. The juxtaposition with the Aloadae and Tityos later in Pythian 4 explicitly acknowledges those elements that the Pindaric narrator hints at. Without a doubt association with either Achilles or Paris foreshadows a destructive end for the Thessalian hero. In Paris’s case, in particular, involvement with a divine woman has lethal consequences both for him and his community. Jasper Griffin (1980: 85–88) reminds us that in Homeric epic excess is punishable. Jason, like most of his Homeric counterparts, possesses everything in excess. Similarly, the love of gods is not enough to secure happiness throughout one’s life. Pindar hushes this part of the story, but allows for a sense of ill-foreboding for Jason, which might also concern Arcesilaus’s royal prospects. Taking the comparison of Jason with Achilles a step further, one notices a dissonance that applies also to Apollonius’s description of Jason. Both Pindar and Apollonius use Homeric parallels to intimate the potential of Jason even if this is never proved. Instead we see Jason employ rhetorical dexterity (Pythian 4.136–138) and erotic persuasion (Pythian 4.218–220). Both poets also agree in that they perceive of a polyphonic Jason who combines elements that pertain to different heroic models. The resulting image suggests that Jason is not a positive character tout court. The manner of his presentation suggests that he is at best an ambiguous character. This ambiguity is appropriate in an ode addressed to a king. In the odes for Hieron, Pindar makes consistent use of negative examples that communicate thinly veiled warnings.173 Hieron may turn out to be a Croesus

 172 See Hunter 1988; Stanzel 1999: 263. 173 Olympian 1: Tantalus; Pythian 1: Phalaris; Pythian 2: Ixion; Pythian 3: Asclepius, Coronis.

From Iolcus to Lemnos  393

or a Phalaris (Pythian 1.94–95).174 Accordingly, Arcesilaus’s image oscillates between the entirely positive Euphemus and the heroically ambiguous Jason. Several moden readers are unsatisfied with Jason’s presence in the Argonautica, branding him an “anti-hero” or a “romantic hero.”175 Such notions imply a frustration with Jason’s inability to match the model of Achilles in the Iliad.176 The preceding discussion suggests that aspects of Apollonius’s Jason are present, at least in nuce, already in Pythian 4. Pindar’s focus on the erotic aspect of Jason’s heroism, perhaps even to the detriment of his prowess, sheds new light on Apollonius’s perception of his hero. Pindar sets up this grandiose image of Jason as a promising epic warrior, but this is an aspect that we never actually see in the course of Pythian 4. Jason appears on his own again in Colchis during his discussion with Medea and when he performs the task set to him by Aeëtes (Pythian 4.221–241). In the intervening narrative, the focus is on the communal character of the enterprise. Even during the battle with the Colchians,177 Jason is not accorded any prominence. As in Apollonius, Jason’s moment of glory comes during the task which he successfully completes with the assistance of Medea.178 Against the Pindaric background, Apollonius innovates by presenting the two fields of war and lovemaking as inseparable. In this manner, Iliadic discourse is channeled in Jason’s encounter with Medea, which alludes to the scene of Achilles and Hector’s duel.179 Hector envisages the possibility of sweet-talking Achilles in the manner of a youth talking to a maiden. Achilles rejects this. The implication of this reversal of gender roles reverberates in Apollonius’s text. Jason and Medea

 174 Fearn 2017: 219–222; Spelman 2018: 82. 175 Anti-hero: Lawall 1966; romantic hero: Beye 1969. For a helpful survey of the issue see Klein 1983 and Pietsch 1999: 99–104. Fundamental for the interpretation of Jason’s heroism is Hunter’s 1988 path-breaking discussion. 176 Beye 1982: 79. 177 Farnell 1932: 148 suggests that the battle between the Argonauts and the Colchians is a Pindaric invention “so as to give the heroes other than Jason something important to do.” While this may be so, Jason does not play a prominent role in the battle. One could compare Jason’s insignificant role in the skirmish with the Bebryces (2.122). On the other hand, Jason is prominent in the battle with the Doliones, in which he kills Cyzicus (1.1032–35). 178 Still, Matthews (1977: 201–202) argues that in the Naupactia Medea’s involvement was minimal: Jason yoked the fire-breathing bulls without her help and killed the dragon single-handedly. Indeed, Matthews goes so far as to claim that Medea is devoid of magic in this epic. Surveying Medea’s role in Eumelus’s Corinthiaca, Michelazzo (1975: 48) argues that the belittling attitude towards Jason appears for the first time in Eumelus, who influences Apollonius. For Medea’s role in the early versions of the myth, see Moreau 1994: 35–36. 179 Hunter 1989: 202–204 on 956–961 and 964–965.

394  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth are exactly that: a youth and a maiden talking.180 Nonetheless, theirs is also a relation of rivalry similar to that of Achilles and Hector. Medea will punish Jason’s excesses. Neither Apollonius nor Pindar explicitly references this. But the outcome of their relationship is prepared, if not alluded to, by Medea’s easy attitude to violence: this maiden is credited with the death of Pelias and assisting with that of her own brother.181 As Charles Segal (1986: 15–17) has pointed out,182 despite the connections with Achilles Pindar suggests, Jason is more in tune with Odysseus than Achilles: “Like Odysseus, Jason has the ambiguity of a hero who uses mētis rather than bia, craft rather than open force.183 […] Jason’s ability to make use of the wiles offered by Aphrodite and Medea is another aspect of his Odyssean heroism.” In a world of magic and legendary beasts careful consideration of the next move far outweighs the importance of inane rashness represented by Idas.184 Circe points out to Odysseus that there is nothing he can do against Scylla (Odyssey 12.80–85; 116–117). Old habits die hard, and Odysseus makes an Iliadic appearance that fails lamentably (Odyssey 12.222–259).185 James Clauss (1997: 155) objects that unlike Odysseus Jason lacks “cunning wisdom” (μῆτις). This is offered to him by Medea, which his task is to conquer: once he does, he wins the fleece (167). But this is certainly true of Pindar’s version as well. It is through the directions of Medea that Jason proves successful. And, as in Apollonius, Jason relies on the help of Aphrodite to win over Medea. The difference lies in the emphasis each poet is ready to lay upon the contribution of Medea. In addition, as Ingrid Holmberg (1998) has shown, Jason’s use of his good looks and rhetorical skill to win over others is itself a sign that he possesses μῆτις.  180 Hunter 1989: 204 on 964–966. 181 O’Higgins 1997: 103–105. 182 See also Nyberg 1992: 109, 114. 183 This does not mean, though, that the Argonautica subscribes to the same attitude as the Odyssey regarding feminine μῆτις. As Holmberg (1998: 148) notes, the Odyssey “controls” and “marginalizes” feminine cunning, whilst the Argonautica incorporates it and uses it so that Jason might achieve his goal. Moreau 1994: 122–124 catalogues all instances of μῆτις in the myth, suggesting that in order for Jason to survive in such a world he needs to manifest prowess in this field. 184 T.G. Rosenmeyer 1992: 185–186; Holmberg 1998: 139. This is the interpretative line followed in Jackson’s 1992 reading of Jason as a “human being in an epic scenario.” See also Beye 1982, who stresses Jason’s inexperience and youth. Accordingly, Jason’s notorious ἀμηχανίη allows us to group Jason with a series of other hesitant epic heroes examined in Holoka 1999. See also Holmberg 1998: 155. 185 Dimock 1989: 169; Heubeck 1989: 130–131 on Od. 12.226–235. See also T.G. Rosenmeyer 1992: 191.

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In dealing with the likes of monsters or demigods, Achilles’s approach is not viable, unless one is immortal like Heracles. Heracles’s divine powers allow him to follow courses of action not open to ordinary mortals like Jason and the majority of the crew.186 Still, as several scholars have noted, Apollonius’s depiction of Heracles is not monolithic and does not allow for simplified equivalences of Heracles with raw strength.187 For instance, Heracles demonstrates μῆτις when he deals with the Stymphalian Birds (2.1035–1089) and deception when he tries to gain Hippolyte’s girdle. Instead of facing the Amazons, Heracles ambushes and captures Melanippe demanding her sister Hippolyte’s girdle as ransom (2.966– 969). Both of these aspects of Heracles’s persona are attested in connection with locations that the Argonauts pass by as they approach Colchis. The proximity to the nightmarish world of Aeëtes allows Apollonius to emphasize aspects of Heracles’s heroism which offer parallels to attributes that Jason will be called upon to demonstrate in his dealing with Aeëtes and his daughter Medea. Heracles has recourse to various ways of expressing his heroic nature (violence, μῆτις, and δόλος) and in this he represents a heroic ethos which modern readers would readily associate with Odysseus. Aphrodite’s prominence in Pindar’s account suggests that his Jason is also a romantic hero. So, the analogy with Achilles that some readers would entertain as a sign of a proper heroic status for Apollonius’s Jason evaporates the more so because Pythian 4 suggests that Pindar is not interested in such a Jason.188 In order to achieve this, he needs to stress his erotic credentials and use persuasive speech.189 In the Argonautica, this truth is reminded time and again through the juxtaposition of Idas with Jason. Idas cannot even comprehend that Aphrodite is more significant to this epic story than Ares. In this light, he is the incongruous element, not Jason. Pythian 4.203–255 describe the last part of the Argonautic expedition, covering, or presupposing, material that in Apollonius covers two whole books. Of these fifty-two lines only ten (213–223) concern the meeting of Jason with Medea.  186 Lawall 1966: 166. 187 Levin 1971b: 26–27; Feeney 1986: 60; Goldhill 1991: 314; Hunter 1993: 32–33; Holmberg 1998: 138–139. 188 As Wilamowitz (1924: vol. 2, 244) admits, “Iason ist niemals ein großer Held gewesen.” See also Pietsch 1999: 106. Segal (1986: 64–66) suggests that Pindar feels some awkwardness with the prominent role Medea traditionally played in the myth. Accordingly, Pindar makes sure to stress Jason’s physical strength and to “mute” Jason’s “sexual triumph […] by enframing it between the martial encounter with Aeetes and his violence.” See also Köhnken 2000: 62. 189 For Jason’s μῆτις, see also O’Higgins 1997: 107–108. For Jason’s rhetorical skill, see Volonaki 2013.

396  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth As in Apollonius, the divine apparatus is present (probably an indispensable aspect of the epic myth) in the person of Aphrodite. Naturally, Eros cannot be expected to play any role in an archaic version. Instead of Eros’s secretive operations, Aphrodite’s contribution is crucial for Jason’s success at seducing Medea. Aphrodite teaches Jason erotic magic. The designation of Aphrodite as “mistress of sharpest arrows” (213) is intriguing in light of Apollonius’s insistence on Eros’s arrows in book 3. Apollonius develops Aphrodite’s attributes through the role of her son. The use of magic is not incompatible with Pindaric mythology. In Olympian 1 Poseidon offers a magic chariot to his favorite, Pelops; in Olympian 13 Athena bestows upon Bellerophon the magical rein that will help him subdue Pegasus. That heroes would be helped in their quest is typical of epic narratives and is exemplified by Athena’s support of Achilles in the Iliad and of Odysseus in the Odyssey. Although Pindar’s depiction of Jason’s interaction with Medea may be concise, some crucial points of his understanding of the myth can be retrieved. Jason removes Medea’s feeling of shame (αἰδῶς) towards her parents (218, ἀφέλοιτο αἰδῶ τοκήων); he instills in her desire (πόθος) for Greece (ποθεινὰ Ἑλλάς)—which is juxtaposed with the desire of the Argonauts for kleos.190 Some echoes of the version underlying Pindar’s narrative can be found in Apollonius. Particular emphasis is laid on Medea’s sense of modesty (αἰδῶς) and the importance of overcoming it. Throughout its use in book 3, αἰδῶς is the reason that stops Medea from helping Jason.191 Medea herself, when complaining to Jason, calls attention to her “shameless desire” which compelled her to distance herself from her father, the good fame of her household and of her parents (4.360–362). The importance of αἰδῶς is also viewed in the reaction of the nymphs to the golden fleece: overcome by desire, they wish to lay their hands on it; and yet, their modesty prevents them (4.1148). Finally, Medea shows to Jason the boundaries of the tasks her father set to him (220, πείρατα ἀέθλων δείκνυεν πατρωΐων). The selection of πεῖραρ in this context is interesting: it suggests that the completion of these ἄεθλα parallels the expedition itself since in both a heroic agent reaches ends (πείρατα) of some kind—of the task or the journey respectively.192 Furthermore, as David Wray (2000: 247–255) shows in the case of Apollonius, ἄεθλος has a metapoetic ring as

 190 Segal 1986: 53–54, who sees this as a sign of the collaboration between the “heroic” and the “erotic.” 191 Clauss 1997: 161–164. 192 This ambiguity is enabled by the word’s two meanings (LSJ9 s.v. A and A.3): “end, limit” and “mode or means of execution.”

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a description of the Argonautic plot: “Contests, struggles, occupy and constitute the dilatory space of plot linking and separating the poem’s beginning and end” (248). This association can also explain why Pindar does not dwell on the aftermath of Jason’s victory but concludes his narrative of the expedition abruptly so as to return to the praise of Arcesilaus. Apollonius reflects Pindar’s usage associating πεῖραρ repeatedly with the voyage itself (1.413; 2.310), the completion of the task (3.1189), and his own narrative.193 For instance, Phineus treats the completion of the task and of the journey home jointly in his prophecy (2.411–412, διίκεο πείρατ’ †ἀέθλων | ναυτιλίης). The metapoetic significance of Phineus’s usage of πεῖραρ emphasizes the importance of the Pindaric parallel. It is Phineus again who uses πείρατ’ ἀέθλων to reflect the importance of Medea in a passage that comes very close to Pindar’s text (2.423–424, ἀλλὰ φίλοι φράζεσθε θεᾶς δολόεσσαν ἀρωγήν | Κύπριδος, ἐν γὰρ τῇ κλυτὰ πείρατα κεῖται ἀέθλου·). Paralleling Phineus, the narrator registers the completion of his narrative journey in 4.1775–1776 referencing one last time the πείρατα of the Argonauts’ suffering: ἤδη γὰρ ἐπὶ κλυτὰ πείραθ’ ἱκάνω ὑμετέρων καμάτων, ἐπεὶ οὔ νύ τις ὔμμιν ἄεθλος αὖτις ἀπ’ Αἰγίνηθεν ἀνερχομένοισιν ἐτύχθη,

(1775)

I have already reached the renowned limits of your troubles, for you performed no great task again as you were returning from Aegina.

Apollonius varies the combination πείρατ’ ἀέθλων replacing ἄεθλος with κάματος, a term he significantly introduces in the proem of book 4. Nonetheless, ἄεθλος is retained at line 1775 to reflect the formula. In fact, the combination πείρατ’ ἀέθλων is Homeric and appears before in Odysseus’s address to Penelope at Odyssey 23.248 “wife, we have not come yet to the end of all of our trials” (ὦ γῦναι, οὐ γάρ πω πάντων ἐπὶ πείρατ᾽ ἀέθλων). The statement is ambiguous signaling Odysseus’s conviction that their troubles are not yet over and for us, as readers, that the concomitant narrative is not over. Applying this interpretation to Pindar’s text, we see that Medea is in charge of Pindar’s narrative: it is Medea who explains to Jason the contours and plot of the story. Thus she performs a role that is analogous to the one she performs in lines 13–56. The Homeric echo further suggests that for Pindar there is an analogy between the stories of Odysseus and Jason both in terms of their nostos and of the  193 Albis 1996: 43–66.

398  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth poetics of heroism they represent. As Margalit Finkelberg (1995: 4) has shown, this kind of heroism is defined through “struggle for survival” which often involves “humiliation.” This “struggle for survival” Finkelberg (1995: 5) defines as ἄεθλος. Consequently, Jason’s association with ἄεθλος acknowledges his inclusion in a specific genre of heroic tales. Jason belongs in the same group as Odysseus, Theseus, Bellerophon, and Perseus.194 Ultimately, as Finkelberg (1995: 10) notes, the question facing such heroes is not that of a heroic death, but of survival. Both Pindar and Apollonius stress the significance of Jason’s safe return home. They also suggests parallels between the nostos, the task, and the narrative juxtaposing the Argonauts with Jason and the narrator.195 Both Pindar and Apollonius cut their narratives short: Pindar omits those parts not relevant to his praise discourse, while Apollonius passes over the part of the story after Aegina.

Jason and Pelops: Parallel Lives On Jason’s cloak the story of Pelops and Hippodameia elaborates upon the themes the previous scenes suggest: competition and love are central to the myth. The selection of the myth is motivated by the inclusion of a similar scene on Heracles’s shield in the Hesiodic poem of the same name (305–313). The Hesiodic epic offers a generic description of a chariot race without specifying the occasion. The only detail we are given is that the prize set for the victor is a tripod (312). The selection of Pelops for Jason’s cloak reflects the influence of the Hesiodic Shield. The conflict of the Teleboans and the Taphians in lines 1.747–751 reflects the conditions under which Heracles was conceived (Shield 1–56). One also notes that among the generic scenes Hephaestus has wrought on Heracles’s shield, the poet specifies two myths: the fight between the Lapiths and the Centaurs (178–190) and the pursuit of Perseus by the Gorgons after his killing of Medusa (216–237). The selection of Perseus and the emphasis on the bond with his mother Danaë reflects Heracles, who is also a descendant of Perseus and, like Perseus, Zeus’s son by a mortal woman. Perseus is thus a glorious ancestor, whose glory Heracles reenacts. Along similar lines, the selection of Pelops for Jason’s cloak reflects the genealogical link between Pelops and Heracles. Alcaeus, Heracles’s ancestor on both Alcmene’s and Amphitryon’s sides married Pelops’s daughter Astydamia

 194 Finkelberg 1995: 5. See also Hunter 1988: 448–453; Laizé 1997/1998: 94–95. Hutchinson 2006: 111 discusses the distinction between “active” and “passive” heroism. 195 Wray 2000: 244–245; Hunter 2008: 133–135, 140.

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(Apollodorus 2.4.5–6). Apollonius varies the structures of the Hesiodic Shield replacing one ancestor (Perseus) for another (Pelops), but still reflecting the circumstances of Heracles’s double paternity. The relevance of these myths to Heracles reflects Heracles’s role as foil to and measure of Jason’s heroism under epinician influence as discussed in a previous chapter.196 In addition to this interpretation, the selection of Pelops as a parallel to Jason reflects the prominence of Pelops’s myth under the influence of Pindar’s Olympian 1. This reading is strengthened by the consideration that Jason is represented as an athlete elsewhere in the Argonautica. The formal analogies between the two heroes are thus put into perspective by the athletic or epinician context in which they are depicted, a context which Apollonius draws from Pindar. The idea and function of Pelops is Pindaric, but not the details of the story, which derive in all probability from tragic sources. According to Pindar’s account Pelops competes against Oenomaus, Hippodameia’s father. Neither Hippodameia nor Oenomaus’s charioteer play any further role. Hippodameia is the prize and is associated with the kingship of Elis.197 Pelops’s success is predicated on Poseidon’s favor that helps Pelops overcome Oenomaus.198 The rivalry between father and son over Hippodameia’s hand is expanded and redesigned in later versions. In Sophocles’s version, Pelops collaborates with Hippodameia. She seduces Myrtilus by making false promises to him.199 Myrtilus replaces one of the nails that attach the wheel to the chariot’s axle with one made of wax. Pelops wins Hippodameia, and Oenomaus loses his life. When Myrtilus tries to rape Hippodameia, Pelops throws him into the sea. The presence of Hippodameia on Pelops’s side on Jason’s cloak suggests that they are in cahoots, while the presence of Myrtilus alludes to Pelops’s scheme. Apollonius probably follows the Sophoclean version because it suggests a neat parallel to the story of Jason and Medea. Medea like Hippodameia will assist Jason. Both of them will be pursued by Aeëtes and his son Apsyrtus. Like Myrtilus Apsyrtus will be treacherously killed. Both stories concern the transition of a young man to adulthood and his laying claim to the hand of a maiden connected with kingship. A possible point that Pindar’s Pelops and Apollonius’s Jason have in common is the role eros plays in their respective stories. In Olympian 1 Pelops is assisted by his former lover, Poseidon, while Jason is supported by his future wife, Medea. The homoerotic love of Poseidon for Pelops is a mythological expression

 196 See Chapter 3 pp. 101–102, 113–117, 133, 142–144, 152–154 above. 197 Ol. 1.88–89. 198 See generally Howie 1984; 1991. 199 Oenomaus TrGF4 frr. 471–477 Radt; see Sommerstein/Talboy 2012: 80–81.

400  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth of the divine support that a mortal athlete needs in order to win. In Pythian 4, Pindar stays true to this principle, representing Jason relying on a god whose name is never disclosed (232). Apollonius follows a different technique that allows only a limited role to actual divine interventions. Instead, it is Medea who takes upon herself the role of divine helper. The eros that Aphrodite inspires in Medea recalls and reworks the epinician conceptualization of divine love as a factor that leads to success. There are two further aspects that bring Apollonius close to Pindar: first, the role of Ganymede; and second, the interconnection between victory and maiden. Poseidon’s liaison with Pelops reflects a Pindaric innovation that steers clear of what Pindaric sensitivity found as an inappropriate representation of the gods. Pindar does not shy away from revealing the model he used in reshaping the traditional myth. Poseidon is supposed to have followed the example of Zeus: Zeus kidnapped Ganymede, while Poseidon kidnaps Pelops (44).200 Ganymede appears in the early sections of book 3 playing knucklebones with Eros. He does not perform a role crucial to the plot. Still, it is possible that Apollonius wants us to juxtapose the story of Ganymede with that of Medea. In this parallel, eros is the link between the two characters.201 Zeus abducts Ganymede under the influence of eros;202 Medea gives in to Jason’s charms under the influence of the very same power personified by Eros. What is more, Apollonius, on the model of Pindar, sets up a reciprocal relationship with regard to eros: divine love helps the mortal agent (Jason or Pelops) reach his goal, which is also conceptualized in terms of eros. Specifically, Pelops gets Hippodameia, receiving support from Poseidon. Hippodameia is both the prize and his wife. Victory guarantees immortality through the securing of kleos and the creation of a new family line (Olympian 1.88–96). Pelops’s analogy with Ganymede is still operative. Ganymede attains immortality, a state that no mortal can achieve without divine approval.203 The metaphor reflects on the significance of Hieron’s victory, the divine support he enjoys, and the immortal fame he is going to win thanks to his victory and Pindar’s services. In the Argonautica, Medea has a similarly multifaceted role. As provider of help to Jason, Medea parallels Poseidon and enables Jason to realize his own

 200 J.T. Kakridis 1930; Gerber 1982: 79–80 on line 44. 201 As Hunter (1989: 108 note on lines 115–118) remarks, “Ganymede’s presence here is a reminder of Eros’s power which is so crucial in Book 3.” 202 Il. 20.232–235; Hymn Hom. Ven. 200–206; see Faulkner 2008: 262–263. 203 Ganymede shares divine company (Il. 20.235; Hymn Hom. Ven. 203) and is honored by all gods (Hymn Hom. Ven. 205). See also Gerber 1982: 79 on line 44.

Jason and Pelops: Parallel Lives  401

eros, which means acquiring the fleece.204 The fact that the fleece is intricately connected with Medea and Jason’s royal claims in Iolcus offers an additional echo of Pindar’s Olympian 1: Pelops does not distinguish between kingship and Hippodameia; acquiring one secures the other. As the object of Eros’s powers Medea resembles Ganymede and Hippodameia. Thus Medea is both an assistant and a prize—a dual role that maiden-helpers often fulfill. However, in the manner of Ganymede and Pelops, Medea is also guaranteed immortality. In 3.990–995 Jason promises Medea kleos. He had done so before to her father Aeëtes (3.391–392). Pindar sees the journey to Phasis as a metaphor for the spreading of the victor’s fame. 3.401–421 seem to echo this. Still, Jason reverses the direction since to Medea Greece is on the other side of the world. Also Jason associates kleos with immortality. He explicitly says so in line 1124: if Medea agrees to follow him to Greece, they will treat her as a god. A final element that concludes the connection between Pindar and Apollonius concerns the magical rites associated with Jason’s victory. Pindar acknowledges the assistance Medea offers Jason through reference to her “potions” (221). Medea eventually became notorious for her potions and is labeled by Apollonius πολυφάρμακος, “skilled in the knowledge of many drugs” (3.27; 4.1677). Even before Jason’s confrontation with the dragon guarding the fleece, Pindar refers to Medea’s τέχναις (“arts”) by means of which Jason bypasses the danger (249). Apollonius includes a detailed scene in which Jason undergoes a magic ritual that renders him impenetrable to the attacks of Aeëtes’s bulls, raising him to the status of an immortal. Resorting to magic in order to enhance one’s chances of athletic victory is a well-known practice in the Greek world. Scholars have assumed that Pindar reflects this reality by referring to such rites in Olympian 1 and 6.205 In both poems, a young man goes into the middle of a body of water under the cover of night to seek the assistance of a powerful god. Jason’s actions have a similar symbolic meaning and prompt the assistance of Hecate. During this ceremony Jason wears the dark-colored cloak given to him by Hypsipyle (3.1206). Hypsipyle is mentioned again in an equally dark context in book 4, which recalls the dark rites in book 3. Medea and Jason lure Apsyrtus to his death using the same cloak given to Jason by Hypsipyle. The killing assumes ritual tones by representing Apsyrtus as a sacrificial victim. Hypsipyle’s name carries with it connotations of darkness. At the same time, Hypsipyle is someone from Jason’s past. In Pindar, Poseidon is Pelops’s past lover. In both cases the past lover is juxtaposed with the future one, underlying the difficulties facing the  204 For Medea as maiden-helper, see Clauss 1997. 205 J.T. Kakridis 1928.

402  Generic Hybridization and the Argonautic Myth hero. Pelops had no say in relinquishing his relation with Poseidon. This was the fault of his ingrate of a father. Jason gave up on the kingship of Lemnos under the encouragement of Heracles. In both cases, giving up past lovers means going through a test of manhood that delivers royalty.

Conclusion The preceding discussion has shown that Apollonius’s Argonautica follows Pindar’s experimenation with hybrid forms in Pythian 4. Both poems register an interest in the combination of epic extensiveness with lyric narrative mode. Consequently, several aspects of Apollonius’s technique including the various proems, the representation of the sexes, the issue of heroism, colonial discourse, and divine agency find interesting parallels in Pindar’s version. Pindar’s decision to use the Argonautic myth as a metaphor not only for the praise of Arcesilaus’s victory but also for his own task, the reconciliation of Arcesilaus with the exiled Damophilus, projects Jason in a double light: as a leader under constant scrutiny and an efficacious speaker of words. Both elements are prominent in Apollonius’s version but also influence the metapoetic focus of Apollonius’s narrative. The Hellenistic epic is more interested in the manner it tells its story rather than the story itself. Pindar’s experimentation with this aspect of the myth frames Apollonius’s endeavor to define his modernity vis-à-vis Homer.

Afterword When Alexander the Great invaded Egypt, he made his way to Memphis. There was an obvious ritual significance to this decision. Since the third dynasty of the Old Kingdom, Egyptian kings had been crowned and buried there.1 Between his two stays in Memphis, Alexander visited the Oracle of Amun-Zeus at Siwah and the location where Alexandria was later to stand. According to Arrian (Anabasis 3.1.4), after his visit to Siwah Alexander offered sacrifices to Zeus βασίλειος.2 This act symbolized that Alexander claimed the throne of Egypt since it was only the pharaohs who were allowed to offer sacrifices to the gods.3 In addition, Alexander celebrated athletic and musical games in honor of the dead Apis bull, issuing, at the same time, instructions regarding the protection of the shrine of Apis.4 Alexander’s actions in Memphis typify the fruitful co-existence of Egyptian and Greek cultures in the nascent Ptolemaic world. A Greek institution, funeral games, is used to honor an Egyptian god. Such combinations will become more common under the Ptolemaic rule that followed.5 After the death of Alexander, his general, Ptolemy I, the son of Lagos, gained control of Egypt first as satrap and then as monarch. Ptolemy moved the capital along with the body of Alexander from Memphis to Alexandria (Diodorus 28.3.5).6 The change of the administrative and commercial center of the kingdom did not diminish the significance of Memphis as a religious center. The royal titulary reflects the connection of the reigning monarch with Ptah, the patron god of Memphis.7 Furthermore, the Ptolemies followed Alexander’s precedent offering their support to the sacred animals of their Egyptian subjects. In the middle of the 240s, Callimachus, the old Cyrenean poet, who had been active in the library of Alexandria for several decades and had composed several poems in honor of the royal family and their courtiers, composed the Victoria Berenices. This victory song in elegiac couplets praises the recent Nemean victory of

 1 J.G. Griffiths 1980: 107–113. For the religious significance of Memphis, see Frankfort 1978: 22–35. 2 Hölbl 2001: 11; S. Pfeiffer 2014: 105. 3 Hölbl 2001: 9–10. Wojciechowska/Nawotka 2014: 53–54. 4 Hölbl 2001: 77–78; Vasunia 2001: 266–267; S. Pfeiffer 2014: 95–96. 5 Mori 2008: 19–27. 6 Hölbl 2001: 25–26. 7 Hölbl 2001: 80–81. For the connection of the Ptolemaic king with the Apis bull in royal titulary, see Sales 2006: 194–196, 199–200, and 201 particularly for Ptolemy III’s nomen (“Ptolemy, living eternally, beloved of Ptah”). https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-011

404  Afterword Queen Berenice II, the young Cyrenean consort of Ptolemy III Euergetes, Ptolemy I’s grandson. The combination of elegiac meter with epinician discourse is typical of the innovative tendency of Hellenistic poets to experiment with genre traditions and combining them. The opening lines of this elegy juxtapose the victory of Berenice II with a description of the wailing of Colchian women for the dead Apis bull. The text is particularly lacunose and several details are thus missing, but the overall picture is quite clear. Scholars argue that Callimachus has in mind the funeral of the Apis bull in 247 BCE.8 Callimachus would have escorted the royal couple for the ceremonies that took place at the temple of Apis in Memphis. This temple along with the underground cemetery of Apis bulls formed part of an impressive architectural complex in Hellenistic times.9 This comprised a temple dedicated to Nectanebo, the last indigenous king believed to be the father of Alexander the Great.10 A paved avenue, called the dromos, led from the temple of Nectanebo to the temple of Apis.11 The dromos was also the path taken to lead the dead Apis to his last home. On both sides of this avenue stood statues of young Dionysus riding animals such as panthers, peacocks, lions, or Cerberi and sphinxes. In the temple of Apis the pilgrims could also admire a great limestone statue of the sacred bull, housed nowadays in the Louvre.12 Opposite this temple, stood the lychnaption, the meeting place of the priests charged with lighting the lamps of Sarapis. The juxtaposition of Dionysus with Osor-Apis reflects the Ptolemaic interpretation of the Egyptian cult, according to which Dionysus was deemed the Greek analogue of Egyptian Osiris.13 To the left of the dromos, near the façade of Nectanebos’s shrine, excavators have unearthed the remnants of what originally was a hemicyclic exedra bearing statues usually identified with Greek poets and philosophers.14 The exedra survives in a desperate condition. The two remaining statues were identified by older

 8 Acosta-Hughes/Stephens 2012: 11 with n. 6. 9 See Schmidt-Colinet 1996: 87–88; Bergmann 2007; McKenzie 2007: 119–120; Thompson 2012: 25–26. 10 Spalinger 1978; Schmidt-Colinet 1996: 88–89. 11 For the temple and the collection of Greek papyri discovered there, see Clarysse 2009: 582. 12 Guillemette/Rutschowscaya/Ziegler 1997: 200–201. 13 The site engages in a intercultural discussion with traditional Egyptian architecture. As Schmidt-Colinet 1991: 59–60 notes, traditional aspects of Egyptian temple design are replaced with Greek items that enable a double intercultural reading. 14 Schmidt-Colinet 1996: 88; Bergmann 2007; McKenzie 2007: 119–120; Thompson 2012: 25.

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scholars with Pindar and Plato on the basis of graffiti that have since then disappeared.15 However, as Marianne Bergmann (2007: 251–252) points out, these graffiti were later than the statues themselves and so cannot be used to securely identify the persons depicted on the exedra. Still, for the purposes of my discussion it is relevant that a Greek reader would inscribe Pindar’s name on a statue, reflecting the ongoing appeal of the Theban poet for Hellenistic and later readership, potentially even for the third-century Hellenic community in Memphis.16 Irrespective of the actual date of the graffiti, which cannot be established after all, the act of inscribing Pindar’s name on the body of the statue offers a secure case of the poet’s reception in Egypt that in many ways parallels and illustrates the theoretical assumptions of this book. As we have already seen, Pindar and several of his Hellenistic interlocutors (Callimachus and Posidippus among them in particular) acknowledge the interaction of poetry as a sung and written medium of conferring praise with monumental media such as ex voto offerings, statues, and steles. For the author of the graffito the statue represents a text in which they project their reminiscences of Pindar’s image. Indeed, as Lauer and Picard note, Pindar is represented in the process of singing. He sits, holding a lyre in his right hand, and turns his face towards heaven as if he were in an inspired state.17 Clearly, the statue reminded the “reader” of the image of the Theban poet they knew from other statues or even reading Pindar’s poetry. This case illustrates brilliantly that detecting the influence of a poet or an allusion is always in the eye of the beholder who proceeds to create a narrative to contextualize their findings. In the case of “Pindar’s” statue the “reader” has contextualized it in a double fashion. Since the theoretical foundations of this process reflect aspects of my discussion, I would like to take a closer look at what this contextualization involves. First, Plato’s, and probably Protagoras’s, names were inscribed on two other statues. Assuming that they derive from the same person who inscribed Pindar’s name, one establishes that the viewer is trying to include Pindar in some kind of statuary narrative. The content of this narrative is lost since the rest of the statues have not withstood the passage of time: three statues are entirely destroyed, while only parts of the other six remain. The identity of these statues has fascinated scholars who have offered various reconstructions. One such influential reading has been offered by Lauer and Picard. In this reading, Homer presides

 15 Bergmann 2007: 251–252. 16 This is the same community that cherished the work of Timotheus of Miletus providing us with our only copy of his Persians. See van Minnen 1997. 17 Lauer/Picard 1955: 60–61, 64–66.

406  Afterword over the group and divides the exedra in two parts, that of the poets (Pindar, Demetrius of Phaleron, Hesiod, and two unknown poets) and that of philosophers (Protagoras, Thales, Heracleitus, Plato, and an unknown philosopher). Lauer and Picard, further, observe that the two groups on the Memphis exedra could tell a single story. Specifically, Lauer and Picard refer to Aristoxenus of Tarentum’s comment that Plato borrowed elements from Protagoras to fashion his own philosophical doctrine (Diogenes Laertius 3.37).18 In this regard, Protagoras, Thales, and Heraclitus constitute forerunners of Plato. The fact that Plato envelops Egypt in his work with a cloak of reverent awe thanks to the country’s immemorial past renders his presence in the Egyptian religious center telling.19 The search for truth exemplified by the five Greek philosophers accords with the mystic lore attributed to Egyptian priests. Lauer and Picard suggest that the missing fifth statue represented Aristotle. If true, this exedra would offer a short history of Greek philosophy from Presocratic thinkers with connections to Egypt (especially Thales)20 to Aristotle. The presence of Demetrius of Phaleron in the other half of the exedra offers a link between the two groups. Demetrius could claim connections to Aristotelian philosophy as the student of Aristotle’s heir, Theophrastus. But he was also a poet of sorts having composed hymns in honor of Sarapis. From Homer, who was seen as the beginning of every literary and philosophical endeavor, the sculptor moves to the Presocratics and almost reaches the beginning of the Hellenistic era with Aristotle. Demetrius of Phaleron picks up this connection and introduces the viewer to the poetic section of the exedra. This would allude to the stochastic aspect of Hesiodic and Pindaric poetry. For all its ingenuity Lauer and Picard’s reconstruction has a fatal flaw. The presence of Demetrius of Phaleron is the basis of their reconstruction and dating. However, as Bergmann (2007: 256–267) points out, the evidence upon which Lauer and Picard based their identification of Demetrius is dubious. The statue identified with Demetrius leans upon a column the head of which Lauer and Picard identified with the head of Sarapis.21 Nonetheless, more recent discussions suggest that this is not necessarily the case. Consequently, one cannot accept the dating of the exedra during the reign of Ptolemy I nor the interpretation that the excedra acknowledges Demetrius’s role in the creation of the cult of Sarapis. Still, Lauer and Picard’s hypothesis retains its value as an exercise that in many ways parallels the reading of the anonymous inscriber of Pindar’s name.

 18 Lauer/Picard 1955: 126. 19 See, in particular, Stephens 2016. 20 Lauer/Picard 1955: 130–134. 21 Lauer/Picard 1955: 123.

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Despite the many details in Lauer and Picard’s reading that we cannot accept nowadays, two aspects of their reconstruction retain their significance and reflect salient aspects of Pindar’s reception in Hellenistic times as has been argued in this book.22 First, whatever the identity of the statues, the exedra is to be associated with the cult of Dionysus/Sarapis and be seen against the intercultural background provided by the organic combination of Greek and Egyptian traditions. Second, despite the dissociation of the exedra from the circle of Ptolemy I, it is accepted that the complex reflects Ptolemaic policy and could be associated with important moments in the reign of Soter’s heirs, potentially Ptolemy III Eurgetes, Ptolemy IV Philopater, or even Ptolemy V Epiphanes.23 The close association of both Dionysus and Sarapis with the Ptolemaic dynasty lends further support to this interpretation. Marianne Bergmann (2007: 258) notes, that “although it would be quite interesting to know exactly who made the dedication, the homogeneity of the upper layers of the Ptolemaic society should perhaps minimize possible differences in ideological implications.” It is impossible to know whether or not the inscriber of Pindar’s name belongs to this time frame. But assuming that he did, his acquaintance with the work of the authors he thought represented on the exedra would place him in the same social and cultural milieu, which would thus make him conscious of the “ideological implications” Bergmann speaks of. Pindar seems relevant on both counts. As we have seen, Pindar suggests connections between Egypt and mainland Greek at least twice, in the opening sections of Pythian 4 and Nemean 10. In both poems, the connections are presented through the colonizing discourse that the Argonautic expedition and the wanderings of Io offer. Furthermore, Pindar composed a hymn in honor of Amun-Zeus at Siwah.24 Pindar’s interest in the intercultural assimilation of Egyptian gods to Greek ones agrees well with the syncretistic spirit predominant in the Serapeion of Memphis. In addition, Pindar enjoyed a special appreciation in Macedonian eyes. He wrote an encomium for Alexander’s forefather, Alexander I. When Thebes was obliterated by Macedonian troops, only Pindar’s house was left standing at the behest of Alexander, a symbolic gesture of recognition of Pindar’s worth.25 Whether or not the anonymous inscriber knew of these facts is secondary. He obviously felt that Pindaric presence was not dissonant in the intercultural ambience of Ptolemaic Memphis.

 22 Bergmann 2007: 258–259. 23 Discussion of possible occasions in Bergmann 2007: 260. 24 Lauer/Picard 1955: 63. 25 Pindari genos p. 5, lines 15–16 Drachmann. See also Lauer/Picard 1955: 63–64.

408  Afterword The close examination of Pindar’s role and function in the exedra of Memphis allows us to delineate the parameters that ought to define the discussion of the reception of Pindar in Ptolemaic poetry. The reception of Pindar in Hellenistic Alexandria cannot be disjointed from any consideration of the Ptolemaic and Greco-Egyptian cultural contexts.26 Pindar was an important poet for the Ptolemies because he offered the unsurpassable model of praise discourse. Pindar’s surviving victory songs suggest that Pindar lies at the very beginning of a cultural process that shall acquire special importance in Hellenistic times. Unlike his contemporaries, Simonides and Bacchylides, Pindar effectively situates each victory praised in the structure of the cosmos. Zeus rules over both gods and men, and the dividing lines between the two ontological statuses are guarded by him with acute vigilance. No ordinary mortal can cross the great divine between divinity, or immortality, and mortality. Instead, the poet makes up for this deficiency by tuning in one of the modalities of epic discourse: he promises undying fame, which, in a way, is a pale imitation of the immortality that gods enjoy. The opening lines of Nemean 6 suggest that victory is the moment at which the divine potential in every human becomes manifest so much so that the poet is reminded of the common ancestry of gods and men. It is on such occasions that the poet assumes a didactic stance and reminds both his laundadus and his audience that this is the furthest that any mortal can venture; going beyond this point would incur divine displeasure and mete out severe punishment to the defiant mortal. The story of Bellerophon is utilized as a memento of the ne plus ultra advice (Isthmian 7.44–47). On the other hand, Pindar more often than not praises victory in light of one of Heracles’s achievements. Heracles, albeit half-divine as Zeus’s son, earned his divinity by competing against powers inimical towards Zeus’s rule. By clearing earth of such pestilence, Heracles attained immortality. The story of Heracles becomes an effective medium in Pindar’s hands to convey the limitations of mortal potential. Even so, sometimes Pindar teases the implications of the comparison between victor and foil: for instance, in Olympian 3, a victory song addressed to the tyrant of Acragas Theron, the juxtaposition of Heracles with Theron intimates the possibility of Theron’s receiving heroic honors in the near future. As Bruno Currie (2005) has shown, this was an actuality to which both Pindar and the local audience would have been attuned. Victors were often deemed to possess special charisma that rendered them effective in offering their protection to the local community. It is not uncommon, therefore, that they would be honored with posthumous hero cults.

 26 Schmidt-Colinet 1996: 89.

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Several of the Pindaric devices already mentioned are present in Hellenistic poems, especially those addressed to the Ptolemies or to members of their court. Heracles appears in two court poems that we know of: the Heracliscus (Theocritus 24) and the Victoria Berenices. The former praises, in all likelihood, Ptolemy II Philadelphus and the latter, Ptolemy II’s daughter-in-law, Berenice II. The fact that Heracles was also seen as the ancestor of the Ptolemies invests this Pindaric juxtaposition with further significance because it implies that Heracles’s descendants will follow in the footsteps of their forefather. The same idea is expressed in a more implicit fashion in Apollonius’s Argonautica. Jason, who does bear some resemblance to a Ptolemaic king,27 is said there to follow the path opened by Heracles to the very reaches of the world, the Garden of the Hesperides–that is, effectively to immortality. Furthermore, the emphasis on marital imagery and spousal felicity has an important Pindaric precedent in as much as marriage to a powerful woman is seen as the means whereby heroes such as Cadmus and Peleus achieve immortality. Such marriages are contrasted with the winning of victory, conceptualized as a bride won by the victor. Such devices show that Pindar becomes the conduit through which Ptolemaic poets find their voice of praise for their Ptolemaic laudandi. Early on during the Macedonian conquest of Egypt it became apparent that the Ptolemies needed to adapt to the reality of Egyptian kingship in order to gain the support of the indigenous clergy and solidify their reign. Archeological evidence such the Satrap and Mendes steles as well as the Canopus Decree demonstrate that the first three generations of Ptolemies performed the functions expected of the Egyptian king.28 In addition, the presence of bilingual scholars at their court, such as Manetho of Sebennytus, potentially even Hecaetaeus of Abdera, allowed them to get a better understanding of the ideological implications of their role according to Egyptian traditions.29 The Egyptian king was supposed to imitate Horus, the last divine king; he ought to defeat chaos (isfet) and restore order (maat). The poets of the court approached these traditions through the lens of Greek mythology. Theocritus compares his monarch, Ptolemy II, with Apollo, the Greek equivalent of Horus. Several episodes in Ptolemaic poems demonstrate the same basic theme of a hero defeating monstrous agents, be they the snakes sent by Hera to devour baby Heracles or the Nemean lion. In this intercultural

 27 Pietsch 1999: 129–130; Mori 2008: 19. 28 On the Satrap stele on which Ptolemy I Soter is identified with the Egyptian god Atum, see Spalinger 1978: 147; Grzybek 1990: 76–80. Mendes stele: Quaegebeur 1989. Canopus Decree (OGIS 56): S. Pfeiffer 2004. 29 Kampakoglou 2013b: 325–328 with references.

410  Afterword experiment, Pindaric poetry had an important role to play. The reason lies in the fact that Pindar was, as far as we can tell, the only poet to utilize in a systematic fashion similar imagery for the praise of tyrants such as Hieron of Syracuse. In Pythian 1, but also in Olympian 4, the victory of the laudandus acquires cosmic dimensions through the comparison with the archetypal fight of Zeus against Typhon. The religious and mythological outlook of Pindar was quite close to the demands of Ptolemaic poets to be ignored. More than one thousand years after the fall of the Ptolemaic kingdom, Eustathius, the twelfth-century Bishop of Thessaloniki, comments on the reasons why Pindar’s victory songs had a better fate than the rest of his poems.30 The reason lies, according to Eustathius, in the fact that Pindar’s victory songs were ἀνθρωπικώτεροι and ὀλιγόμυθοι–that is, they dealt more with men rather than gods and their mythological part was shorter than the mythological narratives in his religious poetry. There might be a kernel of truth in this reading, which could potentially also explain why these poems were quite popular with the Ptolemies and their courtiers. Certainly the loss of a great part of Pindar’s other poems casts a heavy shadow of doubt on any definitive pronouncement. There is, after all, some evidence, slight though it may be, that Hellenistic poets do allude to Pindaric poems outside the epinician canon. For instance, the Victoria Berenices (frr. 54.1 and 54b.23 Harder, respectively) alone returns two references, hallmarked by linguistic borrowings, to Paean 4 and a fragment of unknown genre (fr. 168b Sn.-M.). The fact that Pindar could employ short mythological references to situate the victor in a structure that explained the function of the world was a very convenient tool for the representation of monarchs who were supposed to defy ontological classifications. Reading Ptolemaic poetry, one feels an awkwardness regarding the status enjoyed by the Ptolemaic king and queen. They are obviously more than ordinary mortals, approximating the status of gods. In light of this ambiguity, one should not put toο much trust in generic tags such as hymn, encomium, or epinician. It behooves one instead to view all these genres under the umbrella of a praise continuum. In the manner of a color continuum, the praise continuum allows poets to move imperceptibly between genre traditions such as hymns or epinicians within the same poem, combining references to the Homeric hymns and to Pindar. The fact that this ambiguity was initiated by Pindar himself,

 30 Proem. ad Pind. 34. For an exhaustive discussion of Eustathius’s testimony, see Negri 1997. Negri 1997: 105–108 suggests that Eustathius is probably following an older source.

Afterword  411

who reflected the victor’s hopes for hero cult, strengthens the relevance of Pindaric discourse, the more so as dynastic cult was a factor that Hellenistic poets could not ignore. Hellenistic poets’ tendency to allude to Pindar has been documented in the secondary literature. What the preceding discussion proposes and tries to prove is that allusions to Pindar are context specific. Unlike Homer, sitting in the center of the exedra and commanding the attention of all other persons depicted on it, allusions to Pindar are not ubiquitous. Far from it, they appear in passages or texts that deal primarily with the Ptolemies and their praise. This is not to deny the importance of Pindar as a model for literary experimentation. Nonetheless even in those passages where poets seem to be interested primarily in their metaliterary agenda and its possible connections with Pindar, there is some sort of connection to the issue of praise–compare the Aetia prologue and the epilogue of Callimachus’s Hymn to Apollo. In addition, allusions to Pindaric poems do not occur independently of allusions to other authors. To give one well-known example, it would be misleading to emphasize the Pindaric presence in the Aetia prologue against other important allusions to Aristophanes, Plato etc. The interaction of Pindaric discourse with other material, as in the case of the exedra, allows one to establish the special appeal that Pindar had in the extensive cultural patrimony of archaic and classical eras. Benjamin Acosta-Hughes (2010) has shown that Hellenistic poets engage actively in reworking archaic lyric poetry. Pindar, as the paramount praise poet of the canon, holds a particular position in that he enables Ptolemaic poets to utilize mythological tradition to sing their new rulers, effectively creating a new mythological era. A final aspect of Hellenistic poets’ engagement with Pindaric poetry concerns their efforts to recreate the performative reality of Pindaric modes by applying a similar deictic discourse to their poems. Thus their texts give the impression of a choral performance in the manner of Pindar’s songs. This is especially the case with Callimachus’s epinician elegies and Hymns 2 and 4. Imitating this aspect of Pindar’s work allows Callimachus to situate himself in the same lyric tradition and also to claim for his own work the symbolism of choreia as a reflection of a well-ordered society, in which the poet as leader of the chorus parallels the political authority of the king and ultimately recreates on the mortal plane the divine system of kingship. The textualization of choral discourse concerns not only poetic experimentation but also the praise of the Ptolemaic king in a manner that acknowledges his proximity to Zeus and the Olympian court. As anthropologist Clifford Geertz (2000: 124) notes, “At the political center of any complexly organized society […] there is both a governing elite and a set of symbolic forms expressing the fact that it is in truth governing. […] [They] justify

412  Afterword their existence and order their actions in terms of a collection of stories, ceremonies, insignia, formalities, and appurtenances that they have either inherited or, in more revolutionary situations, invented. It is these—crowns, and coronations, limousines and conferences—that mark the center as center and give what goes on there its aura of being not merely important but in some odd fashion connected with the way the world is built.” The poems that we have examined in the preceding chapters perform a symbolic function similar to Geertz’s description. In the words of Geertz (2000: 63), they define the Ptolemaic sovereign and his family “as a determinate point in a fixed pattern, as the temporary occupant of a particular, quite untemporary, cultural locus.” Whether they mark the celebration of an athletic victory or significant moments in the life of the king (birth, accession to the throne etc.), we have seen that the poetry of Callimachus, Posidippus, Theocritus, and Apollonius emphasizes the special qualities of the Ptolemaic king or his consort raising them to the level of mythological heroes (e.g. Heracles, Cyrene) and intimating similarities with the Olympic pantheon (particularly Zeus and Apollo). The fact that in several of these poems the poet avoids unequivocal indications of the king’s identity is a further corroboration of Geertz’s model: what is significant is not so much the identity of the individual praised, but rather the fact that it belongs to a dynasty and so exhibits charismatic potential associated with the royal role it performs. Consequently, certain formulaic themes and motifs emerge: inherent excellence, charismatic potential, heroic profile. For the Ptolemies as successors to the pharaohs, it was only reasonable to associate these aspects of their public profile with indigenous traditions and religious tropes. In particular, the king as guarantor of order (maat) defeats chaos in all his royal actions and thus vouchsafes the preservation and thriving of his kingdom. For the poets who wished to express this group of ideas, praise poetry, and particularly Pindar, offered the necessary ideological appurtenances that also satisfied Hellenistic poets’ desire for creative innovation and aesthetic renewal. Pindaric discourse is thus seen as the best medium for capturing the transcendent symbolism of prowess.

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Index of Greek Words ἄγαλμα 97 ἀγασθείς 121 ἄγγελος 106 ἀγένειος 51 ἄγκειμαι/ἄγκειται 92, 94 ἀγκομίσαι 356 ἀδάμαντος 363 ἄδηλος 320, 322, 325, 326, 330, 334 ἄεθλος 117, 387, 396, 397, 398 ἆθλος 194, 353, 375, 386 αἰδῶς 396 αἰχμητής 390–1 ἀκέντητον 81 ἀκέρδεια 233 ἀκίνητον 329 ἀνάγκη 139 ἀναθέμεν 95 ἀμηχανίη 360, 394n184 ἀμφασίη 360, 363 ἀοιδοί 89, 90, 232, 235, 260 ἀποκαίνυμαι 153 ἄριστος/ἄριστοι 144, 161 ἀτάσθαλα 389 ἄφθιτον 117 βοῶπις 207 βροντά 242 γαῦλος 33 γηγενεῖς 116, 141n161 γυνή 35 δαίδαλα 379, 380, 381 δαπάνη 76–77 δεδαιδαλμένοι 235 δέχομαι 106 δῆλος 322, 326, 330 διαιπετής 324 διδαχή 199, 200, 201 ἕδνον 34, 35, 39, 42, 43 ἔκπαγλος 391 ἐλάτειρα 243, 244 https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-013

ἐλατήρ 240, 241–5, 246 ἐμπολάν 33 ἐνιπλέξω 315 ἐξάρχων 148, 149, 150, 252, 253n20, 275, 310, 312, 315 ἐπίκωμος 30n45 ἐπιμαστίδιος 365 ἐπινίκιον 10 ἐπίνικος 9–10 ἐριῶπις 206 ἐσθής 379 ἐσμαράγησεν 340 εὐεργέτης 50n109, 170, 171n44, 172n48, 175–76 εὐμηχανίη 332 εὐνομία 267, 268, 269 εὔυμνος 219, 311 ἐφύμνιον 51, 53, 54 ζαμενής 369, 373 ἠνορέη 388 ἠρώησε 339 θαητός 87n45, 389 θεοδμάτα 328 θυμός 164, 299–304, 306, 346 ἴυγξ 122, 381 ἴυξεν 122 καλλίνικος 53, 54 κάματος 361, 397 κίνδυνος 363 κορυφαῖος 275 κότινος 48 κουροτρόφος 302, 346 κῶμος/κῶμοι 23–4, 27, 30, 31, 33, 54, 253, 255, 273, 355 λόγος 183

442  Index of Greek Words μάρτυς 83–84, 175n56 μειλιχίη 359 μέλος 53, 54 μελπομένοις 147, 148 μῆτις 133n131, 394–5 μνῆμα 92, 93–94, 96 μουνοκέλης 80 νενίηλος 229–30 νύμφα 34, 35, 43, 44 ξεῖνος 63, 69, 374n93 ὁμόφωνον 63 ὀρθός 224 Οὐρανίδαι 240 παπταίνων 121, 129n117 παρθένος 35, 86 πεῖραρ 396–7 περιτροχόωσιν 315 πεύθομαι 368, 369n73–74 πηλαγόνων/πηλογόνων 239–40, 243, 244 πολύυμνος 292

πολυφάρμακος 401 πόνος/πόνοι 117, 265 προοίμιον 149, 150, 212 σπείσωμεν 22 συνοίμιον 149, 150 τέρας 329 τυφομένοιο 342 ὕμνος 42, 54, 149 ὑπερφίαλος 113, 378 φυά 35, 68, 90, 138, 141, 188, 199, 364 χαλίκρητον 389 χάρις/χάριν 31, 34, 42, 63–5, 154, 171, 174, 235–6 χαρίσιον 34, 63 χορηγός 222n44, 252, 272n85, 299, 315, 324 χορός 54 χρειώ 364 χρέος 41n77, 47, 238

Index of Passages Discussed Alcman (PMGF) 1.16–17 3.64–66

390n163 323

Apollonius of Rhodes Argonautica 1.263–64 1.440–41 1.480–84 2.17–18 2.144–54 2.161–62 2.411–12 2.423–24 2.752–54 2.783–85 2.1277–80 3.1–5 4.1–5 4.67–69 4.997 4.1775–77

377 364 388 139 142 149 397 397 151 153 360 359 360 124 108 397

Archilochus (W2) fr. 324

19

Aristophanes Clouds 1352–59

20

Fragments (K.–A.) 211.2

34

Callimachus Aetia fr. 54 Harder (= 143 Massimilla) 1 34 2 35 3 9 fr. 54h Harder (= 149 Massimilla) 70–1 Elegies fr. 227 Pf. 288n131 Victoria Sosibii (frr. 384 Pf.) 13–15 55 29–30 58 35–36 6 35–39 52 46 63 59 68 fr. 392 Pf. 211n100 Hymns 1.3 239 1.7–8 220n37 1.60–67 228 1.60 231 1.60–61 12 1.65 235 1.94–96 171 2.26–27 271 2.42–46 266–67 4.1 303 4.89 343 4.136 340 4.258 346 4.259 346

Aristotle Politics 1286b10–12

176n61

Eubulus (K.–A.) 1.3

34

Herodotus 1.47.3

295n151

Bacchylides Odes 3.4 3.58–62 5.43–45

82n26 173 62

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-014

Hesiod Catalogue of Women (M.-W.) fr. 1.6–7 225n55

444  Index of Passages Discussed Theogony 32 679–81

368n71 340

Hesychius ε 1872 ν 299 π 2175

242n109 230n66 239n94

Homer Iliad 1.70 22.268–69 Odyssey 4.569 23.248

368n71 390 210n97 397

Homeric Hymn to Apollo 19–21 310 119 204n78 Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite (VI) 19–20 198 [Lucian] Demosthenis Encomium 19 Minyas (Bernabé) fr. 7.14–16 207 Peirithou Katabasis (M.-W.) Fr. 280.14–16 207 Pindar Olympians 1.20–23 1.29 1.36 1.47 1.52–53 2.1–2 2.53–56 2.86–88 2.90–95 2.89–100 3.15 3.21–22 4.1–9 6.3–4

81 235 12, 232 230n69 232 163 170 294 171–2 174 93 55 241–2 57

220n36

6.43–44 6.76 7.1–10 8.1–2 8.16 9.1–4 9.7–10 9.35–38 9.88–91 10.2 10.73–77 11.7–8 Pythians 1.92–94 2.67–68 4.2–3 4.38–39 4.70–71 4.79 4.87–92 4.114 4.120–23 4.253 5.1–4 5.54–57 5.63–69 9.95–96 Nemeans 1.7 1.24–25 1.31–32 1.35–36 1.48–49 1.55–56 2.1–3 3.40–42 3.52–53 4.9–11 5.1–3 6.53–54 8.20–21 8.32–37 10.23 Isthmians 1.1–12 6.10–13 8.61–62

204n78 65 37–8 56 40 52 42 233 52 41 125 94 179 32 40 368 356 390n165 386–7 383 377 56 264 265 266 69 25 69 178 204n78 191 191 212 203 203 40 96–7 90 71 144–5 55–6 304–5 76 93

Index of Passages Discussed  445

Hymn 1 (Sn.-M.) fr. 29 fr. 32 fr. 33c Paean 4 (Sn.-M.) 52d.4 Paean 7b (Sn.-M.) 52h.10–20 52h.42–52 52h.45–47 Prosodia (Sn.-M.) fr. 89a fr. 144

331 321 334

Scholia on Pindar (Drachmann) Olympian Odes 1.58b 12 8.21c 40 Pythian Odes 4.124a 357n31, 363 Nemean Odes 1.56 7 4.129c 95 10.64a 6–7

243 242

Simonides (Poltera) fr. 273

11

Theocritus Idylls 14.63–64 17.1–12 17.3–4 17.26–27 17.106–7 17.115–16 18.18 18.49 24.76–78 24.168–70 24.171–72

179 160–1 167 187 178 173 209 209 201 206 197

Theognis I. 3–4

167

219 221 327 42

Plato Lysis 205C–D

10–1

Posidippus (AB) 71 72 74.13–14 77 78.13–14 83 85.3–4 87.3–4

79–81 87 92 76 91 82 84 85

Probus ad Verg. Ecl. 7.61 [= Pindar fr. 291 Sn.-M.] 184 Scholia on Aristophanes (Jones–Wilson) Knights 1264b 243 Scholia on Homer (Erbse) Iliad 3.126–27 380

Tyrtaeus (W2) fr. 10.29

389

Index of Subjects Acosta-Hughes, Benjamin 127, 411 Abbruchsformel 71, 292, 294, 370 – see also break-off formula Achilles 104, 144, 203–5, 390–91, 393 Admetus 255, 262, 267 Aeëtes 111–20, 122 Aelius Aristides 221–2 Aeson 377 Agócs, Peter 31 agonistic discourse 196–7 Ajax 145 Alcman 323–4, 390 Alcmene 190–2, 201–2 Alexander the Great 21, 58, 66, 403 Alexandria 25, 58–60, 244 allurement scenes 381 allusion 1–8 Aloadae 387–90 altar(s) 261, 268–69, 281–83, 289, 315, 347 amazement 122, 191–92, 377, 389 ambiguity: – addressee 216 – Cronus’s sons 229 – Delos, status of 301, 309–10, 328 – Dioscuri, status of 147–8 – Jason 392 – persona loquens 272–5 – prophecies 374n93 Amphitryon 189–92 Amycus 113, 118, 139–40, 141n161, 153 Angeli Bernardini, Paola 75, 127, 148 Apharetiadae 136, 138 Aphrodite: – Argonautic myth 122, 387, 390, 395 – Jason’s cloak 129, 380–2, Apis bull 27, 40, 403, 404 Apollo: – closeness to Zeus 226–7, 318, 335–6, 385 – Cyrenean founation myth 367 – Delos 323–4 – foil to Jason 387 https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110651867-015

– initiation 255 – myths 261–70 – paean 289 – parallels Ptolemy II 166–7, 270, 307–9 – parallels Ptolemy III 263–4, 269–72 – Pindar 222–5, 257, 295 – as poet 316, 347 – punishes his foes 258–9 – role in the Argonautic expedition 357–8 apotheosis 321–3 Arcesilaus: – parallels Jason 103, 106, 353, 392 – as victor 117, 254, 265, 268, 272–4, 276, 355 Archilochus 19, 28, 51–5, 299 Ares: – and Aphrodite 380, 382, 387 – as an ally of the Colchians 113, 117 – as chorus-leader 340–1 – as power of anarchy 269, 309, 335–6, 338–42, 344–6 Argonautica: – colonial discourse 365–7 – cloaks/fabrics 379–81, 383–6, 398–9 – distinct narrative lines 101 – epinician imagery 117–20, 123, 131, 143 – epinician poetry 101–3, 150–2 – episodic narrative 107, 352n9, 382 – genre hybridization 101–2 – Homeric epics 104–5, 114, 143, 153, 155, 353, 376, 380 – hospitality 353n14 – hymn structure 358, 374 – Jason and Medea 361, 394 – love imagery 129, 134–5, 284, 362–3, 395 – narrator 360–2, 367, 373, 397 – narrative 108, 362–3, 375–6, 382 – narrative misdirection 105, 113, 117, 118 – paranarratives 134–5, 153, 366–7, 372– 3 – Pindaric technique:

448  Index of Subjects –– Amycus episode 141–2, 145, 149, 154– 5 –– Heracles, treatment of 130, 135, 152 –– intertextuality 386, 392, 400 –– Medea 373 –– narrative 375 –– proems 357–8 – polyphonic narrative 104–7, 127, 130 – proems 357–64 – prophecies 130–1 – Ptolemaic Ideology 131, 150–1, 155 – women 371–3, 377, 382 Argonautic expedition as athletic metaphor 103–4 Argonauts: – catalogue of 109–11, – as chorus 147 – group dynamics 132–3, 144, 361, 373 – Jason 114, 124, Argo 128–9 aristeia 112 Aristotle 104, 352n9 arming scenes 112–14 Arsinoë II 210–1 Artemis 85–6, 129, 261, 289, 372–3, 388 Asteriē 319–20, 322–4, 330, 347n119 – see also Delos, Ortygia Athena 46, 70, 128, 335–6, 372, 380–1 athletes: – in epic poetry 100, 105 audience 3, 68–9, 70–1, 236, 250 Bacchylides – attributes partiality to the judges of the Olympic games 56 – benefactions 172–3, 179 – description of victories 62, 82n26, 88, – heroization 166n32 – narrative misdirection 117n68 – prophecies 70 Barchiesi, Alessandro 2 bards 89 Barthes, Roland 8 Bassi, Karen 259 Battus 263–5, 267, 272–4, 355 benefaction 49–50, 140, 150–1, 164, 170–80, 338–40

Berenice I 79, 85, 176, 202 Berenice II 35, 50, 67, 85–6, 277–8 Bergmann, Marianne 405, 406, 407 Boedeker, Deborah 284 break-off formula 71, 107, 292 – see also Abbruchsformel Briareus 342 brilliance 113, 124–5, 142, 145, 345, 383 – see also light Burton, R. W. B. 29 Byre, Calvin 370 Cadmus 168–70, 210, 221–3, 225 Calame, Claude 324 Callimachus: – collection of hymns 213–5, 226–7, 245, 248, 261, 301, 304, 319, 338 – impromptu composition 26–27, 57 – lies 235–8 – lyric discourse 249, 253–4, 258, 275, 299, 323 – metapoetics 228–38, 253n21, 291–7, 326, 330 – mimetic hymns 248–9 – narrative technique 48, 70–72 – piety 233–4, 251, 292–3 – politics 229, 238 – role 252, 275, 277 career 54–5, 187 Carneia 250–1, 255, 256n34, 256n39, 267, 268n75, 279–85 Carne-Ross, D.S. 29 catalogues: – Apollo’s aspects 262, 266–8 – Argonauts 109–111 – epinician poetry 23, 51–2, 78–9, 88–9, 91 – geographical 311, 336 – Heracles’s educators 195–202 – Poseidon’s cult centers 118 Catenacci, Carmine 295 chariot(s): – as metapoetic symbol 25–7, 93 Charites 63–66 Cheshire, Keyne 262 choreia: – Apollonian 150, 223, 312–13

Index of Subjects  449

– chaotic 340–3 – civic dimension 256–9, 267–9, 277, 284 – cosmic 310, 347, 411 – epiphanic quality 250, 286–9 – metapoetic metaphor 315 – ritual reenactment 290–2 chorus: – Argonauts 147–8 – Callimachus’s hymns 245, 249–55, 259–60, 268–9 – divine 222, 312, 315 – mortal 225, 282–3 – voice 245, 253, 299 Chromius 69, 159, 178, 182, 188–9, 192, 196, 208–9 chthonic powers 114, 116, 140, 385–6 Clauss, James 110, 394 Clay, Jenny 313 Clayman, Dee 277–8 colonial discourse 40, 108, 256, 276–87, 364–7 Conte, Gian Biago 2 context: – performative 20, 36–7, 254n22 – descriptive 30, 195–6, 227, 244 – genre 8 Corinna 220–1 Croesus 172–3 Crotty, Kevin 106 Currie, Bruno 101, 408 Cusset, Christophe 127 Cynisca 79, 85 Cyrene (nymph): – consort 255, 285–6 – Berenice II, similarities to 35, 277, – epinician poetry 43–4, 85–6, 264n68, 265, 370 – Lemnian women 372 – patron of Cyrene 259, 263 Cyrene (land) 59–60, 262, 271, 273 D’Alessio, Giambattista 40, 217, 223, 227, 252, 332 Damophilus 103, 106 dance 148–9, 225, 254, 283, 290, 324–5, 341

dati accessorri 75 dati indispensabili 75n8, 148 Delos: – altar 264 – ambiguous status 320, 325–6, 328–31 – apotheosis motifs 323 – Apollo 224, 301–2, 308 – chorus-leader 310, 312–13, 315, 324–5, 346–7 – independence 317–19 – Pindar 327–34 – subject of songs 306 – Theseus 261 – Zeus 333 Demetrius of Phaleron 406 demigods 163, 165 Dionysus 216–17, 219–20, 404, 407 Dioscuri 101, 105, 114, – in Pindar 136–7 – similarities to Heracles 136–7, 153 – heroic honors 150–1, 153–5 direct speech 89, 252, 337, 352, 356 Dougherty, Carol 285 dreams 365–6, 371 Duchemin, Jacqueline 137, 148 Ebert, Joachim 75 Eco, Uberto 8 ekphrasis 88, 379, 381 Eliade, Mircea 233 Empedocles 385 Ephialtes see Aloadae epigrams: – agonistic 32, 57 – performance of 91–2 – victory songs 74, 75, 92–3, 96 epinician poetry: – divine support 41, 47, 66–8, 120–1 – foils 111, 135, 153, 164, 199, 209, 272 – friendship between poet and victor 26, 31 – genre 9–11, 147 – gnomae 11, 56n131, 67–8, 71, 77, 202– 3, 265 – history 19–22, 52–3 – hymns 29, 67, 147–9, 306 – ideology 76–7, 205, 238, 265, 364

450  Index of Subjects – inherent excellence 56, 88–92, 138–9, 141, 148, 186–7, 199–200, 377–8 – khreos-motif 41, 47, 238 – love imagery 43, 86n43, 132, 208, 210, 399–400 – metanarrative 26, 28, 303–7 – mobility through time and space 96–8 – myth 44–5, 57, 77–8 – mythological prototypes 122–5, 138–9, 146–8 – Ptolemies 20–2, 49–51, 85–6, 151, 155 – religious offerings 31–2, 34, 64–6, 94–6 – societal function 106, 143 – symposium 23–4, 38, 151–2 – wedding imagery 34–44 – women’s role 43–4, 85–6, 370 – see also victory songs epiphany 320, 323, 329n81, 340 – discourse 118, 122, 373 – hymnic theme 248–51 – metapoetics 291–2 – ritual context 288, 312 embedding songs within songs: – epigram(s) 32, 57, 98n83 – epithalamium 222 – hymn 28–9, 327 – paean 147–8, 252–3 – subliterary genres 193–4 envy 68–9, 133, 143–6, 230–1, 295–7 episodic style 107, 352, 382 eschatology 163, 170, 172 Euhemerus 151, 175 Eumelus 119, 373n90, 393n178 Euphemus 107, 117, 263, 269, 355, 365–7 Euphorion 46 Farnell, R.L. 183, 212 Fennell, C.A.M. 212 Ferrari, Franco 36 Finkelberg, Margalit 397, 398 Fowler, Don 4 Fränkel, Hermann 151, 286, 359 Fuhrer, Therese 46 gain 178–79 Garner, Richard 7 Gauls 308, 309, 344

gaze: – control 319–20, 322 – defining status 133–4 – divine 131–2, 250, 329, 346–7 – leadership 121 – Medea 368–9, 373 Geertz, Clifford 411–2 Genette, Gerard 5 genre 8–11, 355, 410 giants 113, 116, 131, 239–41 Gildersleeve, Basil 164 Giuseppetti, Massimo 303, 308 gnome 39, 56, 67–8, 108–9, 169, 258, 288–9 gold 56, 145 golden fleece 117, 383 Griffin, Jasper 392 Griffiths, Frederick 205 Hadjimichael, Theodora 88 Hampe, Roland 172 Harder, Annette 48 Hardie, Alex 222, 223, 224 Hardwick, Lorna 1 Hebe 206 Hecataeus of Abdera 175, 177 Henry, W.B. 206 Hephaestus 342, 344 Hera: – Argonautic expedition 125–6, 131, 364, 371 – Heracles 184–5 – jealousy 313, 318, 335–6 – marriage 207–8 – Typhon 345 Heracles: – Argonautic expedition 115, 126–34, 152, 394–5, 398–9 – comic elements 200–1, 205–6 – epinician role 19, 101, 130, 135, 143, 153 – immortality 134–5, 199, 209, 408–9 – and Jason 112, 114–16, 152, 399 – and Molorcus 45 – Olympic games 48–50, 164 – parallels Theocritus 196–7 – and Polydeuces 142–4, 146, 153 – Ptolemies 151, 165, 182, 187–8, 308

Index of Subjects  451

– theoxenia 36–7, 115–16, 140 heroic/divine honors: – benefactors 175 – founders 273–4 – Heracles 39 – Ptolemaic queens 49–51, 66, 85 – Theron 163–4 – victorious athletes 101, 150–1, 154–5, 408–9 heroism: – competitiveness 132–3, 137 – danger 375–6 – irony 114n55, 124 – Jason 383, 390–1, 395, 397–8 – Peneius 339 – solitude 115 – violence 146 Hesiod: – five races, myth of 114 – influence on Callimachus 217 – Muses 236 – Pandora 381 – Shield of Heracles 398–9 – Theogony 212–13, 224, 229 – Titanomachy 340 Hieron I: – fame 89, 178–9 – maritime supremacy 32–3 – mythologization/fictionalization 78– 80, 82 – parallels Zeus 149, 162, 197, 238 – public image 159–60, 172–3, 178–9 Hinds, Stephen 8 historicizing fallacy 3 Holmberg, Ingrid 394 Homer: – blindness 230, 332 – criticism 12, 237–8, 331–3 – Demodocus’s song 382 – ekphrasis 380 – Memphis exedra 405–6 – Odysseus 394 – questions without addressee 357 homoeroticism 255, 262, 286 horizon of expectations 3, 51 hospitality scenes 36, 353 Hutchinson, Gregory 173, 324

Hylas 128–9, 133–4, 372–3 hymns 166, 196–9, 328 Hyperboreans 59, 164n19, 172–3, 346 iamb 52 Iamos 82–4 Ibycus 19, 137 Idas 112, 381, 388–9, 394, 395 imbalance (narratorial) 72, 375 immortalization 78–9, 131–4, 154, 166, 180 inhospitality 115–16, 139–40 initiation 107, 255 intertextuality 3, 5, 13–14 intention of the text 8 Irus 138–9 isfet 409–10 Isis 50, 176 Isles of the Blessed 168–70, 175, 210, 294 Jason: – and Arcesilaus 374–8 – arming 112 – compared to Heracles 114–7 – type of heroism 393, 397–8 – intertextual persona 386–95 – parallels narrator 360–1 – royal claims 111n41, 364, 383 – as victor 103–4, 107, 123–4 Kelly, Adrian 353 Kirichenko, Alexander 235, 237 kleos – dissemination 58–60, 135, 150–2 – dynasty 89–90, 276 – immortality 65–7, 78–9, 155, 410 – Medea’s 396, 401 – opposed to gain 77, 178–9 – poet’s 145 – textual metaphors 94–8 Knight, Virginia 118, 138 Koenen, Ludwig 188, 211 Köhnken, Adolf 240, 243 kōmos 23, 30, 31, 33 Kowalzig, Barbara 185 Krummen, Eveline 272

452  Index of Subjects Kurke, Leslie 250 Laubscher, Hans 188 Lauer, Jean-Philippe 405, 406, 407 Lemnian women 140, 353–4, 365, 372, 382 Leto 313, 319, 324–5, 328, 333, 336–8 Leucippides 136 libations 22–4, 29–31, 273–4 light 113, 124–5, 358 – see also brilliance Livrea, Enrico 363 Lycus 150–3 Mackie, Hillary 12–13, 234 maat 50, 196–7, 409–10 – see also isfet, order marriage(s): – divine 208–11, 224–5 – incestuous 35–6, 206–8, 210–11 Martindale, Charles 3 Maslov, Boris 83, 306, 332 Mathiesen, Thomas 245 Matheson, William 72 Medea: – and Jason 393, 396 – parallels the poet 356–7, 369 – prophecy 355, 357, 365, 368–73 – as helper 115–16, 121–2, 371, 400–1 Meillier, Claude 313 Memphis 403, 407 metaphor 4 Minyas 207 – see also Peirithou Katabasis modello esemplare 2 modello genere/codice 3 Molorcus 45 monument(s) 93, 95, 96 – see also statue(s) Mori, Anatole 386 mother(s) 372n87, 376 Mullen, William 148, 225, 282 Muses 107, 108–9, 223, 332, 356–57, 359–63 music 162, 222, 224, 260, 268, 341 mythological material 8, 11–14

Naupactia 110, 111n41, 381n120, 393n178 necessity 139, 317, 339, 363 Nile 29–30, 33, 58–60, 177, 338–40 Niobe 257–9, 307, 337, 343 Nomios 262 non-grammaticalité 3 – see also Riffaterre nostos 108, 118, 152, 353, 397–8 objectivity 3–4, 7–8 – see also allusion Odysseus 118–19, 138, 394, 397–8 Olympian powers 114, 140 – see also chthonic powers oracles 83, 116, 354–55, 374 order (cosmic): – Berenice II 41, 50, 101 – Jason 113–14 – metapoetics 293 – Polydeuces 140–1 – Ptolemy II 188, 237 – royal discourse 340, 412 – see also isfet, maat Orpheus 110, 147, 149, 385 Ortygia 319n60, 333, 334 – see also Asteriē, Delos Otos see Aloadae paean 147, 252, 257–8, 260, 269, 306 Paris 390, 391–2 Parsons, Peter 27, 46 Pasquali, Giorgio 2 Patroclus 114 patronage 159, 173–4, 179–81 Peirithou Katabasis 207 – see also Minyas Peleus 210 Pelias 115–16, 121, 364, 378 Pelops 116, 230–2, 375, 398–402 Pelusium 30–1 Peneius 338–40 Péron, Jacques 59 persona loquens 64, 87, 214, 220, 249, 251 Pfeiffer, Rudolf 30, 40, 42, 56, 71 Phaeacians 108

Index of Subjects  453

Phalaris 116 pharaonic ideology 49–50, 188, 215–6, 237, 338–9, 409–10 Pherenicus 62, 78, 80–2 Picard, Charles 405, 406, 407 Pindar: – avoidance of descriptions 61–2, 81, 86–8, 186, 190–2 – brevity of style 185–6 – colonial discourse 265, 279–81, 285, – cultural paradigm 1, 408–9 – Delos 326–34 – piety 231–33 – praise discourse 14–15, 19–21, 39, 180–1, 408–9, 410–1 – prophecies 369–70 – reception 14–15, 405, 407, 411 – self-representation 197 – truth 234–5, 237–8 Plato 10–11, 235, 406 Plutarch 220–1 Pohlenz, Max 199 Poseidon 33, 118–20, 139–40, 308n29, 353, 399, 400 Posidippus: – agonistic epigrams 75, 77 – description of victories 86–8 – epinician ideology 76–7, 88–91 – female victors 85–6 – monumentality 92–8 – mythologization 77–86 – performance 91–2 – Thessaly 79–80, 84 praise forms: – classification 198n57 – hybrid forms 67, 147–8, 410–1 – memorials 93–5, 405 – wedding songs 39, 222 priamel 145, 219, 276 Prioux, Évelyne 208 prophecy: – Apollo’s 337, 343 – Callimachus’s epinician elegies 46, 63–4, 70–1 – colonial discourse 106, 355 – epic narrative 130–1

– Pindaric praise discourse 83–4, 187n24, 192n42, 368–70 prosodion 244–45 proteleia 35 Ptolemy II Philadelphus: – divinity 322–3, 337, 340, 345 – Heracles 188, 199–200 – marriage to Arsinoë II 208–10 – rule 177–8, 180, 216, 231, 311 – succession 229 Ptolemaic ideology: – benefactions 175–80 – erotic language 37, 206–11, 272n83, 278 – guaranteeing order 339, 357–8 – Heracles 194, 199 – Zeus 247, 410 reception: – definition 1 – production of meaning 4–5 – role of the reader 3, 405 reconfiguration 1, 51–69 reading practices 5–6, 9–14, 40, 51, 183, 405 realism 193–4 red 383, 386 reperformance 20, 216, 272n83 Riffattere, Michael 3, 3–4n12 ring composition 110, 174, 251, 331, 333, 352, 384, 388 Rosenmeyer, Patricia 36 Ruck, Carl 72 Rutherford, Ian 332 Sarapis 404, 406, 407 Schachter, Albert 185 Schadewaldt, Wolfgang 42 scholia 5–6 Schmid, Michael J. 26 Scully, Stephen 384 Segal, Charles 61, 394 self-quotation 27, 57n134 Seth 41, 50, 188 sibling gods 35, 39, 92 Silk, Michael 4, 7 similes 118, 123–4

454  Index of Subjects Simonides: – Argonautic myth 119, 379 – humor 82 – longevity of poetry 98 – Plataea elegy 163n17, 166n31 – Thessalian victors 80 Snell, Bruno 217, 222 Sosibius 21n12, 22–34, 68–9 Spartoi 116 spectators 121–2, 124, 131–2, 190–1, 284, 286 stars 142, 319–20, 322–4, 326 statue(s) – as epinician offerings 64–5, 92 – Ptolemaic 188, 405 – textual 80, 87–8, 96–8 Stesichorus 351, 363 Stephens, Susan 33, 188, 338 subjectivity 4n12, 8 symposium 227, 279–80 technology of presencing 225n57, 250 – see also choreia, epiphanic quality Teiresias 66, 130–1, 191–2, 194–5, 201, 206, 370 Telamon 129, 133 Telchines 234, 317 Telesicrates 265, 280, 284, 286–8 Thebes 307, 324, 336–7, 342–3, 384 Theognis 167, 299 theōriai 299, 315, 325, 346 theoxenia 11, 36–7, 302, 336 Thera 365–6 Theron – benefactor 174–5, 177, 295 – heroic honors 163–4, 168–70, 408 – victor 36 Theseus 119, 207 Thessaly 80, 84, 262, 276, 279 Thetis 257–9, 317, 338 Titans – defeated by Zeus 239–40, 243, 384 – Gauls 344 – Titanic associations of Colchians 113

– Titanomachy 340–1 Titiēs 153 Tityos 373, 384–5, 388 tradition 51–5, 59–60, 203, 236, 282 training 200–1, 204–5 Trypanis, Constantine 58 Typhon – Ares 336, 340–42, 345 – associated with the opponents of the Argonauts 114, 141 – epinician poetry 41, 149, 162, 241–2, 410 Tyrtaeus 389 Vian, Francis 150 victory: – description 61–3, 86–8 – symbolic value 21, 49–50, 56, 61–3, 66–7 victory songs 19–22, 147–8 – see also epinician poetry Walsh, George 236 wealth 76–7, 170–4, 178–80, 264–5 weaving 315–16, 380 West, Martin L. 62 Whitman, Cedric 117 Wilamowitz-Mollendorff Ulrich von 230 Willcock, Malcolm 295 witness 83–4 Wray, David 396 wreath(s) 36, 46, 49, 93 Zeus: – Berenice’s Nemean victory 41 – defeats Typhon 141, 335 – role in the Argonautica 113–4, 123–4 – shrine at Pelusium 24, 30–1 – rule 229–30, 240–2, 313, 384–5 – starting songs with his praise 212–3, 222 – Ptolemies 161–2, 165, 167, 216–17, 229, 238, 247, 270 – will 129–30, 145, 333, 345