apollo and his oracle

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS: POETIC REPRESENTATIONS, POLITICS, AND IDEOLOGY* Lucia Athanassaki University of Crete éllå ka‹ §n Delfo›w ı profÆthw m°llvn kle¤ein tÚn ne∆n khrÊssei kayÉ ≤m°ran: P¤ndarow ı mousopoiÚw par¤tv prÚw tÚ de›pnon t“ ye“. (Vita Ambrosiana, 14–16)

i. INTRODUCTION Later tradition envisaged the Delphic priest inviting Pindar to dine with Apollo every day at the closing of the temple. The point of the anecdote, namely the poet’s exclusive privilege to enjoy the god’s company, admirably captures a distinctive feature of Pindar’s representations of human communication with Apollo. In sharp contrast to other depictions, which reveal a similar fascination with Apollo, especially characteristic of fifth-century literature and iconography, but point up the problematic aspects of communication with the god of prophecy, Pindar uses Apolline prophecy to paint a totally different picture.1 His epinician odes display a clear tendency either to bring out the harmony of human communication with Apollo or, at the very least, to dissociate Apolline discourse either completely or as much as possible from the intellectual challenge that ordinarily leads mortals to misguided action, failure, or transgression.2 In the paeans and other fragments Pindar makes occasional references to seers, but prophecy proper of Apolline or other origin is remarkably rare.3 The reason possibly lies in the paucity of the paeans and other non-epinician genres and the *

Warmest thanks to Ewen Bowie, David Fearn, Elizabeth Irwin, Richard Martin, and John Miller for reading and commenting on this version. 1 For Apollo’s violent and ambiguous sides see especially Detienne. For the god’s centrality in fifth-century literature see Wilamowitz 1896: 246–56 and Defradas 1972 (both scholars trace the beginnings of Apollo’s dominance to the seventh and sixth centuries); in iconography see Moret and for Athens in particular Shapiro. 2 Athanassaki 1990. For Pindar’s representation of Apollo see also Duchemin 105– 14 and passim; and Stéfos’ comprehensive study. 3 For references to seers and prophecies in the paeans see Rutherford 173–74.

406

L. ATHANASSAKI

fragmentary state in which they have come down to us. The lack of adequate comparative material is regrettable, but in the present state of the evidence comparison of the epinicians with the extant odes in other genres shows that harmonious human communication with Apollo is a distinctive epinician characteristic. Harmonious communication between gods and mortals through prophecy and the dissociation of divine discourse from human sufferings characterize not only Pindar’s representation of Apolline prophecy, but of all prophecy. The celebratory character of the epinician genre is a possible reason for the unusually smooth communication between mortals and immortals. Such an explanation, however, requires the total absence of sinister tales, which is certainly not the case. Stories of human transgression and divine punishment are not absent from Pindar’s mythical epinician narratives. Pindar does not refrain from telling the stories of offenders such as Tantalus, Ixion, and Coronis. Unlike tragic, Herodotean and even Homeric prophecies, however, Pindaric prophecy does not function as the catalyst in transitions from fortune to misfortune.4 Neither Tantalus, nor Ixion, nor Coronis are warned through prophecy as to the proper course of action. Pindaric gods punish the evildoers after committing a crime, but send them no warning.5 It is remarkable that in Pindar’s poetry it is not divine speech, but divine silence that bodes disaster.6 Apollo’s pattern of speech and silence in the story of Coronis and Asclepius in the Third Pythian is a characteristic example. Neither Apollo nor any other god warns Coronis against sleeping with another man before her marriage or of her imminent death after her transgression (8–40). When Apollo speaks it is to announce his decision to save his son Asclepius (40–46). In a comprehensive study of Pindaric mantic diction I have suggested that a major consideration underlying the dissociation of prophecy from semantic obscurity and human suffering is its fundamental role in the construction of the poet’s authoritative persona.7 I have argued that prophecy is abundant in Pindar’s mythological narratives, but predictably absent from the encomiastic hic et nunc, where Pindar restricts himself to prayers or wishes for the future success and prosperity of his patrons; that the projection of prophecy onto the remote past is a 4

The prophecy of Calchas in the Iliad, for instance, marks the beginning of Achilles’ hostility towards Agamemnon and his withdrawal (1.84–214). Hermes’ warning to Aegisthus in the Odyssey is the first signal of his eventual downfall; for Aegisthus see below section ii.3. 5 For Apollo’s interaction with his adversaries see Stéfos 86–98. 6 See Athanassaki 1990: 61–74. 7 Athanassaki 1990.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

407

strategy whereby the poet constructs mantic discourse as a mirror image of his poetry. Through the various mantic personages the poet avails himself of alternative authoritative masks, thereby enhancing his persona of the poetprophet. The paradigmatic function of the mythical narratives enables the poet to draw the parallel between past and present/future without jeopardizing his authority by venturing into the realm of foreknowledge where, as he repeatedly stresses, no mortal can have access. In what follows I examine the function of Apolline prophecy in Pindar’s epinicians as an encomiastic device that takes account of the contemporary sociopolitical context and as a vehicle for shaping elite ideology.8 I will survey both auspicious and inauspicious stories, focusing on the nature and the degree of Apollo’s involvement in the consulting process, on the identity of Apollo’s addressees, and on their relationship with the laudandus of each ode.9 Earlier or contemporary variant accounts will serve as comparative material in order to examine the political and ideological significance of Pindaric representations of Apollo and his oracle in a cultural context where communication with the oracular god of Delphi was depicted as increasingly problematic or adversarial. I will suggest that, whereas Aeschylus and Herodotus resort to Apolline prophecy to showcase the ramifications of ancestral guilt, Pindar uses it to illustrate ancestral excellence. Specifically, I will argue that Pindar’s representations of ancestral glory in Apollo’s company are innovative accounts that serve as instantiations of elite privilege and wisdom which have been passed on from generation to generation (ii.2); that in cases where Apolline hostility was too strong a tradition to obliterate, the poetic strategy is to distance Apollo and foreground all-powerful Moira (ii.1). I will discuss separately Pindar’s dissociation of Apollo from Orestes’ matricide in the Eleventh Pythian, for Apollo’s role in this case does not raise the issue of human and divine 8

For extensive discussions of Pindar’s ideology see in particular Donlan 77–11; Rose 141–84; Kurke 1991. 9 For a full account of Apollo in Pindar see the study of Stéfos. My own focus here will be on oracular Apollo, i.e. instances in which Apollo is represented as participant in verbal communicative acts and cases in which his role was already part of the tradition, but Pindar suppresses it or plays it down. In this sense the two Pindaric versions of Neoptolemus and Apollo constitute an anomalous case, because in neither version are the god and the hero represented in an act of verbal communication, nor do we know of any such earlier tradition. My reasons for including them is that (a) in the Sixth Paean Neoptolemus is represented as defying well-known ethico-religious precepts that need not be communicated to him in the form of an oracular statement and (b) the Seventh Nemean displays a pattern of suppression similar to that of the Second Olympian.

408

L. ATHANASSAKI

antagonism, but the question of Apolline justice. Taking into account the absence of any ancestral link between Orestes and the honorand in this instance and the fact that the ode was composed for performance at a festival in honor of Apollo Ismenios, I will argue that Pindar capitalizes on the double encomiastic program in order to reinstate Apollo as a god of peace, justice and eunomia. I will also suggest that in the ideological register of this ode the Oresteia constitutes a distorted elite model that serves as a foil for the definition and public promotion of a positive aristocratic civic lifestyle consistent with Apolline values (ii.3). ii.1 THE WORKINGS OF MOIRA Theron of Acragas, whose chariot victory in 476 the Second Olympian celebrates, claimed descent from Thersander, son of Polyneices. The commemoration of Theron’s ancestry may have been suggested to the poet by the Sicilian tyrant or his entourage, but it is equally possible that Theron’s claim to this ancient and noble lineage exercised an irresistible appeal to the poet for whom phya was of paramount importance. Yet Labdacid descent was not only associated with ancestral glory, but with divine wrath and punishment originating with Laius’ disobedience of Apollo’s oracle. Whether the thematic choice belonged to the poet or to the patron, Pindar repeatedly asserts Theron’s ancestral nobility and smooths away the successive mistaken choices of the Labdacids by attributing their misfortunes to Moira. Thus he sidesteps the fundamental issue of human responsibility that lies at the heart of tragic representations of the Theban cycle, but is already evident in the surviving account of Stesichorus. The commemoration of Theron’s glorious lineage begins immediately after the initial praise of the victor in the form of a much admired priamel and covers roughly the first half of the ode (7–48). The account falls into three parts: first, Pindar praises Theron’s immediate ancestors who settled happily in Acragas after much suffering (7–22); the story of the sufferings and rewards of Cadmus’ daughters (22–34), which immediately follows, serves as an exemplum of the change of fortunes and forms the link in the transition from Theron’s immediate ancestors to the remote ones, the Labdacids (35–48). Variations on the theme of the supreme power of Moira preface all three parts and link them together. The first reference to moira is made in connection with the course of life alloted to Theron’s ancestors (afi∆n . . . mÒrsimow,
10) that brought them wealth and grace after much suffering (7–11). After a brief prayer to Zeus to preserve the ancestral land for future generations, a gnomic reflection on the inability even of Time to undo whatever has been done either justly or unjustly follows and leads to the reiteration of the theme of moira. With good fortune (pÒtmƒ sÁn eÈda¤moni,
 18) forgetfulness may come, for pain dies whenever divine Moira

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

409

raises happiness high (˜tan yeoË Mo›ra p°mp˙ / énekåw ˆlbon ÍchlÒn,
21–22). Pindar proceeds to illustrate the power of Moira by the great suffering and subsequent happiness of Semele and Ino and concludes by yet another restatement of the changeability of human fortunes (31–35). This latest reformulation of the theme of alternation of pleasure and pain leads to a further reflection on the power of Moira, which is slightly modified this time so as to make explicit its relevance to Theron’s family. Through the modified repetition of the supreme power of Moira, who is said to bestow more often happiness than suffering in the case of Theron’s family, Pindar makes a leap in time and illustrates the workings of Fate in the lives of the honorand’s remote ancestors (35–47):10 oÏtv d¢ Mo›rÉ, ë te patr≈ion t«ndÉ ¶xei tÚn eÎfrona pÒtmon, yeÒrtƒ sÁn ˆlbƒ palintrãpelon êllƒ xrÒnƒ: §j oper ¶kteine Lòon mÒrimow uflÒw sunantÒmenow, §n d¢ Puy«ni xrhsy°n pala¤faton t°lessen.

fido›sa dÉ Ùje›É ÉErinÊw ¶pefn° ofl sÁn éllalofon¤& g°now érÆion: le¤fyh d¢ Y°rsandrow §rip°nti Polune¤kei, n°oiw §n é°yloiw §n mãxaiw te pol°mou tim≈menow, ÉAdrastidçn yãlow érvgÚn dÒmoiw: ˜yen sp°rmatow ¶xonta =¤zan pr°pei tÚn Afinhsidãmou §gkvm¤vn te mel°vn lurçn te tugxan°men. Thus Fate, who controls the kindly fortune of these men that is ancestral, sends them, together with their heaven-sent happiness, some suffering as well, reversible at another time, from the time when the fated son met and killed Laius and fulfilled the prophecy spoken in ancient times at Pytho. 10

All Pindaric citations of the epinician odes are taken from Snell–Maehler’s edition and of the paeans from Maehler’s edition.

410

L. ATHANASSAKI But a sharp-eyed Erinys saw it and killed his warlike offspring at each other’s hands; Thersander, however, survived the fallen Polyneices and was honored in youthful contests and in war battles, a succouring offspring to the house of Adrastus’ line. It is fitting that the son of Aenesidamus, who has his roots in that seed, should be praised by victory songs and lyres.

Pindar’s highly selective and cursory treatment certainly exemplifies the power of destiny, but falls short of showing the predominance of kindly fortune. Even in the story he chooses to tell, the only piece of good fortune is the survival of Thersander to whom Theron traced his origin.11 Thersander’s greatest claim to fame was his Labdacid origin and on this sensitive path the poet had to tread. In keeping with the persistent attribution of human fortunes and misfortunes to Moira in this ode, Oedipus is represented as the person whom fate appointed to fulfill an ancient prophecy spoken in Pytho. Neither the source nor the recipient of the prophecy is specified.12 The mention of Pytho evokes, of course, Apollo, but it also shows how much Pindar mediates his involvement, especially when compared with his active role in the auspicious stories. Remarkable is also the brevity of the account of the consequences of Oedipus’ crime on his progeny. The agent of retribution in their case is Erinyes.13 The diction is cursory and thus it remains unclear for which acts the Erinyes punished Oedipus’ sons. Pindar’s choice to focus on the consequences of human acts and not on the acts themselves and their causes is not, of course, accidental. Focus on the acts and their causes would bring to the surface the issue of human responsibility and thus weaken the foundation of the argument based on the unconquerable power of Moira. Explicit mention of the circumstances of 11

Segal 1986: 116–17: “When Pindar relates this myth in Olympian 2, he turns its better face outward and goes on at once to the survival of the royal line in the only descendant, Thersander, to whom Theron, the victor celebrated in this ode, traces his ancestry (43–47). But, as in Pythian 4, the bright side of seasonal aternation cannot be thought of without its death and darkness too.” 12 Pindar constructs the unpropitious Delphic oracle to Pelias in the Fourth Pythian (73–78) in a similar way. As Segal 1986: 45 observes, “Though this ‘chill prophecy’ is ‘spoken at the navel of the well-treed mother (earth) at Delphi’ (74), no voice or messenger is mentioned, in contrast to the Pythia at 59–63 and Pindar’s praise of the good messenger in 277–79. Nor is there a prayer for divine aid. Instead the prophecy (manteuma a rather neutral word) merely came (elthen).” 13 In Odyssey 11.271–80, the oldest identifiable version of the Oedipus legend, there is no mention of Oedipus’ progeny; the Erinyes acting on behalf of Epicaste bring upon Oedipus many sufferings. See Heubeck 93 ad 271–80 in Heubeck–Hoekstra.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

411

Apollo’s oracle would necessitate mention of Laius’ disobedience and would therefore detract from the heavy emphasis on Moira by bringing to the surface his own responsibility. In this hypothetical scenario, any attempt to play down Laius’ responsibility would inevitably transfer the problem to Apollo in particular and prophecy in general. Distancing Apollo and bringing into the picture all-powerful Moira, to whose will not only mortals but even Zeus succumbs, is a much more effective strategy. According to an ancient scholion Pindar mentioned the oracle given to Laius in a paean (fr. 68). The paean has not survived and the scholiast does not provide enough information to allow comparison between the epinician and the paeanic version. All we can infer from the scholion is that in the paean Laius was specified as the recipient of the prophecy, the content and, possibly, circumstances of which were not as brief and vague as in the Second Olympian. In light of the different encomiastic intentions of the two genres, it is reasonable to assume that in the paean Apollo’s role was more prominent than in the epinician. The differences in the portrayal of Apollo in the Sixth Paean and the Seventh Nemean, which will be discussed later, argue in favor of this hypothesis, but certainty is impossible. Nor do the very few fragments of the Labdacid epic cycle allow us either to assess how much Pindar’s treatment in the Second Olympian owes to the epic tradition. In contrast, Stesichorus’ account of the fate of the Labdacids that the Lille papyrus has brought to light, fragmentary as it may be, provides a reliable measure of comparison. Unlike the Pindaric account, in the surviving part of Jocasta’s speech Stesichorus lays equal emphasis on Moira and Apollo and, in addition, shows clearly the human effort to avert misfortune or, at the very least, the wish to push it as far into the future as possible.14 Specifically, Jocasta points out that the gods did not establish either permanent strife or permanent friendship among mortals, but in one day they can make mortals change their minds (204– 208). She then expresses the wish that Apollo may not fulfill all of Teiresias’ prophecies (mantosÊnaw d¢ teåw ênaj •kãergow ÉApÒllvn / mØ pãsaw t°lessai,
209–10).15
This wishful thought is followed by her wish to die, if the Fates have spun for her the destiny to see her sons die in mutual slaughter (afi d° me pa¤daw fid°syai ÍpÉ éllãlois dam°ntaw / mÒrsimÒn §stin, §pekl≈san d¢ Mo¤ra[i], / aÈt¤ka moi yanãtou t°low stugero[›o] g°n[oito,
 211–13).
 Having expressed her wish to die, Jocasta repeats once more how painful it would be to 14

Stesichorus is the earliest witness for Apollo’s role; see the discussion in Burnett 1988: 150. 15 Citations of the Lille papyrus are taken from Campbell’s edition.

412

L. ATHANASSAKI

see either her sons dying in the palace or the city captured. At this point she turns and addresses her sons. She advises that one of them stay and rule and that the other depart with all the flocks and gold of his father, respecting whichever lot the Fates allocated to each (218–24). Jocasta concludes with two important remarks: the solution she proposes might be their release from the evil fortune prophesied by the divine seer (toËto går ín dok°v lutÆrion Îmmi kakoË g°noito pÒtmo[u / mãntiow frada›si ye¤ou,
 225–26); such a release would be possible, if the son of Cronus is willing to preserve the family and the city of Cadmus by postponing for a long time the evil that is the fate of the family (émbãllvn kakÒtata polÁn xrÒnon [ì basile¤ai / p°prvtai gen°[y]lai, 230– 31). In Jocasta’s speech, Stesichorus puts in a nutshell the themes that will become the core of tragic representations, namely the inevitability of destiny, the catalytic role of Apolline prophecy, and the desperate human effort to prevent its fulfillment.16 Aeschylus’ Seven against Thebes was performed nine years after the composition of the Second Olympian. In view of Pindar’s ties with Athens and the Sicilian connections of the two poets, the possibility of Aeschylus’ knowledge of Pindar’s epinician for Theron cannot be excluded.17 Yet whether Aeschylus knew the Pindaric ode or not, it is remarkable how much closer his representation of Apollo’s involvement is to Stesichorus than to Pindar.18 Specifically, the chorus of the play reveals that Apollo had prophesied three times at Pytho (tr‹w efipÒntow,
 746)
 that Laius should die without offspring in order to save his city (742–57). A little later, the messenger reports to the chorus that Apollo took upon himself the disaster at the Seventh Gate, fulfilling thus his prophecy to Laius (tåw d' •bdÒmaw ı semnÚw . . . ênaj ÉApÒllvn e·let' Ofid¤pou g°nei kra¤nvn palaiåw La˝ou dusboul¤aw,
 800–802). Right before the confrontation, Eteocles tells the chorus that Apollo hates all the race of Laius (Fo¤bƒ stughy¢n pçn tÚ La˝ou g°now,
691). Erinyes are not absent either, but their role is clearly secondary to that of Apollo (886–87). Aeschylus’ treatment, poles apart from the Pindaric version, is emblematic of the catalytic role that Apollo and his oracle would continue to play on the Athenian tragic stage. If we were to imagine the same audience present at the performance of the Second Olympian in Acragas 16

Burnett 1988: 129 characterizes the Stesichorean song as “proto-tragical”; see 110–29 for a detailed discussion of the tragic elements of the poem. 17 For the acquaintance of the two poets see Finley 3. For the possibility of Aeschylus’ familiarity with some Pindaric odes see Winnington-Ingram 12–13 and Hubbard 1987: 12–13, and most recently Finglass 2007: 15–16. 18 For the gap separating Aeschylus from Pindar see Finley 244.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

413

and of the Seven in Athens, there is little doubt that this audience would be struck by the contrasting roles of Apollo. The performances of the Oresteia in Athens and of the Eleventh Pythian in Thebes, which will be discussed in the last section, would also be another good occasion for such a hypothetical audience to marvel at the safe distance of Pindar’s Apollo. To return to the Second Olympian, Stesichorus’ account shows that the interplay of destiny, prophecy, and personal responsibility was already part of the lyric tradition, and a part which Pindar chose not to follow. After the briefest possible account of the misfortunes of the Labdacids over three generations, the poet introduces the theme of the change of fortunes in the person of Polyneices’ son Thersander whom he describes as honored both in youthful contests and in war. Immediately after the mention of Thersander’s good fortune, Pindar mentions the ancestral link between the fortunate hero and Theron and swiftly brings the genealogical account to an end by resuming his praise of the honorand. Pindar employs the same strategy in his epinician version of the fortunes of Neoptolemus in the Seventh Nemean. In this ode too he attributes the death of Neoptolemus in Delphi to Moira and dissociates Apollo from the incident.19 Conversely, in the Sixth Paean it is Apollo himself who kills Neoptolemus in order to avenge the death of Priam who, although a suppliant, fell into the hands of the young hero. The epinician and the paeanic versions of the story of Neoptolemus display other important differences as well and already in antiquity scholars considered the Seventh Nemean a kind of palinode aiming at appeasing the Aeginetans who were offended by Pindar’s unfavorable treatment of Neoptolemus in the paean. In the heyday of New Criticism this interpretation was discredited, but Ian Rutherford has recently adduced a new piece of evidence that reopens the question.20 The problem of the relation of the two odes bears to some extent on the issue of the different representation of Apollo and I will address it in the course of my discussion. The Seventh Nemean celebrates the victory in the pentathlon of the Aeginetan Sogenes. The ode opens with an invocation of Eileithyia and continues in the typical epinician manner, namely with praise of the victor and his homeland (7–10) and with gnomic reflections on great deeds as a source of poetic inspiration and on the power of poetry to preserve their memory (11–16). 19

On Pindar’s reticence about Apollo see also Segal 1967: 450. The apology hypothesis was challenged by Bundy 4 and was followed by a number of scholars. In favor of the apology hypothesis see Lloyd-Jones 1973: 127–28 with a survey of scholarly opinion before and after Bundy and more recently D’Alessio and Rutherford 298–338. Against the apology hypothesis see the more recent discussions in Burnett 1998 and Burnett 2005: 179–202; Currie 296–343. 20

414

L. ATHANASSAKI

By means of an enigmatic comment on wise men’s knowledge of the uncertainty of the future and their immunity to greed, which leads to the observation that death is inevitable for rich and poor alike (17–20), the first mythical narrative is introduced. The fortunes of two Aeacids are the subject of the ode’s two mythical narratives: the account of Neoptolemus’ Delphic visit and death is preceded by a corrective account of Ajax’s true valor. Interestingly, both narratives are introduced by and connected with variant formulations of the inevitability of death. The account of Ajax first. There are clearly two strands in Pindar’s account. The narrative begins with an explanation for Odysseus’ fame and retrogresses to highlight the reasons that led to Ajax’s suicide. According to Pindar, Odysseus’ fame has been greater than he deserved thanks to the sweet verses of Homer (20–21). The corrective account continues with the concession that there is some majesty in Homer’s lies and winged resourcefulness and ends with the more general observation that poetry deceives by misleading tales (22– 23).21 The comment on poetry’s power to deceive leads to the statement that most people are blind (24), which Pindar instantiates by the example of Ajax. Pindar’s argument runs as follows: if Ajax’s contemporaries could have seen the truth, Ajax would not have committed suicide in anger over their wrong judgement over the arms.22 The praise of Ajax’s valor concludes with the assertion that he was second only to Achilles among the warriors that went to Troy to bring back Helen to Menelaus (27–30). Reflections on the inevitability of death and on the honor that god can bestow on the dead frame the account of Ajax and lead to the story of Neoptolemus. After a statement that has caused much perplexity (32–33), Pindar introduces the story of Neoptolemus by the mention of the hero’s tomb in Delphi (34–35) and ends it in ring form with a more elaborate variant formulation (44– 47).23 According to the epinician version, Neoptolemus sacked Troy, missed Scyros on his way back, and settled in Ephyra. There he ruled for a short time and then set out to visit Apollo, taking to him the finest spoils from Troy (38– 21

See however Köhnken 55–60, who suggested that the reference is not to poetry, but to Odysseus’ cleverness and lies. 22 Köhnken 58: “Mit Vers 24 (gãr) beginnt der eigentliche mythische Bericht, der zugleich ein konkreter Beleg für die Lügen des Odysseus und ihre Folgen ist: das griechische Heervolk ließ sich durch Odysseus verführen, ihn über Aias zu stellen und mit den Waffen Achills zu ehren.” 23 The main problem of ll. 32–33 is the subject of boayÒvn: scholars have argued in favor of Apollo, or the epinician speaker, or Neoptolemus. For a review of the various proposed renderings see Most.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

415

41). In Delphi, in a quarrel over sacrificial meats, a man stabbed him with a knife. This incident, however, which gave the Delphians much grief according to this version, was not accidental, but the fulfillment of fate (43–47): bãrunyen d¢ perisså Delfo¤ jenag°tai. éllå tÚ mÒrsimon ép°dvken: §xr∞n d° tinÉ ¶ndon êlsei palaitãtƒ Afiakidçn kreÒntvn tÚ loipÚn ¶mmenai yeoË parÉ eÈteix°a dÒmon, ≤ro¤aiw d¢ pompa›w yemiskÒpon ofike›n §Ònta poluyÊtoiw.
 His Delphian hosts were exceedingly grieved. But he had paid the debt to fate; for it was ordained that one of the royal Aeacids should remain for the rest of time within the most ancient grove, beside the god’s well-built temple, to dwell there as a rightful overseer of processions, rich in sacrifices, in honor of heroes. It is now time to compare the epinician with the paean version.24 The struggle for the recovery of Helen is the common theme of the two mythical narratives, but in the Sixth Paean Pindar’s focus is on the protagonists of the sack of Troy, Achilles and Neoptolemus, and on the city’s defender, Apollo.25 The power of moira is another theme that the two odes share, but the perspective is clearly different. In the paean the poet dwells on the fate of Troy, not of the Aeacids. The first indication of the power of fate comes at 78 ff., where Pindar says that Apollo postponed the capture of Troy by killing Achilles (ÉIl¤ou d¢ y∞ken êfar/ Ùcit°ran ëlvsin,
81–82). After a brief mention of the conflict of Apollo with Hera and Athena over the fate of Troy, Pindar reiterates Apollo’s protection of the city: Achilles would have sacked Troy, if Apollo had not been on guard (efi mØ fÊlassen ÉApÒ[l]l[v]n,
91). Immediately after the twice-stated effort of Apollo to preserve the city, Pindar introduces the theme of the supreme power of Moira by means of a description of Zeus that is strongly reminiscent of the Iliadic scene (16.433–38) where he weighs the fate of Sarpedon (92–98): n°fessi dÉ §n xrus°oiw ÉOlÊmpoi24

For a detailed comparison of the paean and the epinician see in particular Tugenhadt who argued in favor of the apology hypothesis and Köhnken
who rejected it. 25 For Apollo as defender of Troy see Tugenhadt 390 and Burnett 1998: 512–13.

416

L. ATHANASSAKI o ka‹ korufa[›si]n ·zvn mÒrsimÉ éna[l]Êen ZeÁw ı ye«n skopÚw oÈ tÒlma: per‹ dÉ ÍcikÒmƒ [ÑE]l°n& xr∞n êra P°rgamon eÈrÁ[n] éist«sai s°law afiyom°nou purÒw: But Zeus, the watcher of gods, sitting in golden clouds on the peaks of Olympus, did not dare undo what was fated. On account of high-haired Helen it was ordained that the blaze of burning fire should destroy broad Pergamum.

It is remarkable that Pindar uses identical diction (mÒrsima/mÒrsimon—xr∞n/ §xr∞n)
 to describe the fate of Pergamum in the paean and the fate of Neoptolemus in the Seventh Nemean. In the paean version, however, fate does not appear to play a role in the fortunes of Neoptolemus, unless something was said in the missing part of the second strophe (62–78). Such possibility seems unlikely, however, in view of the narrative’s unmistakable emphasis on Neoptolemus’ acts and their consequences. Immediately after the disclosure of the destiny of Troy, the paean’s narrative shifts to Neoptolemus and his fortunes (98–120): 
 
 §pe‹ dÉ êlkimon n°kun [§]n tã[fƒ] polustÒnƒ y°nto Phle¤dan, èlÚw §p‹ kËma bãntew [∑]lyon êggelo[i] Ùp¤sv SkurÒyen Ne[o]ptÒlemo[n eÈrub¤an êgontew, ˘w di°persen ÉIl¤ou pÒl[in: éllÉ oÎte mat°rÉ ¶peita kednãn ¶Ûden oÎte patrv¤aiw §n éroÊ[raiw ·ppouw MurmidÒnvn, xalkokoru[st]ån ˜milon §ge[¤r]vn. sxedÚn d[¢ To]mãrou Moloss¤da ga›an §j¤ketÉ oÈdÉ [é]n°mouw ¶[l]a[y]en oÈd¢ tÚn [e]Èrufar°tran •kabÒlon:

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

417

ὤ[mo]se [går y]eÒw, g°[ron]yÉ ˜[ti] Pr¤amon p[r]Úw •rke›on ≥nare bvmÚn §[pen]yorÒnta, mÆ nin eÎfronÉ §w o‰[k]on mÆtÉ §p‹ g∞raw flj°men b¤ou: émfipÒloiw d¢ k]uriçn per‹ timçn dhri]azÒmenon ktãnen tem°]neÛ f¤lƒ gçw parÉ ÙmfalÚn eÈrÊn. And after they had placed the brave corpse of Peleus’ son in the muchlamented grave, messengers crossed the wave of the sea and came back bringing mighty Neoptolemus from Scyros, who sacked the city of Ilium. But afterwards he saw neither his dear mother again, nor the horses of the Myrmidons in his ancestral fields, arousing the bronze-helmeted host to battle. Near Tomaros he reached the Molossian land and did not escape the winds, nor the Far-shooter with the broad quiver; for the god had sworn, that because he had killed the old Priam as he leapt towards the altar of Zeus Herkeios, he would not come back to his kindly home, nor would he reach old age in life; as he was quarreling with the attendants over the appointed honors, Apollo slew him in his own sanctuary by the broad navel of the earth. The quarrel over due honors and the death of Neoptolemus in Apollo’s sanctuary are the themes common to the paean and the epinician. Beyond these similarities, however, the two narratives display totally different perspective and motivation.26 The paean celebrates Apollo’s crucial role in the protection of Troy. As a defender of the city, Apollo succeeds in deferring the capture of the city, but like Zeus he must eventually yield to the supremacy of Moira. As is evident from his decision to punish Neoptolemus, Apollo’s care for the doomed city does not cease with its capture. In the paean the reason for the punishment of Neoptolemus is unequivocal. The god punishes the young hero for killing a

26

For differences due to genre and occasion see Lloyd-Jones 1973: 132; Rutherford 322; Burnett 1998: 507–509.

418

L. ATHANASSAKI

suppliant.27 The fact that it is Apollo himself who slays Neoptolemus for his impious act is in keeping with the emphasis on the god’s role as a guardian of Troy in the second triad. The ancient scholiasts attributed to Aristarchus and his pupil Aristodemus the view that the Aeginetans were offended by Pindar’s treatment of the death of Neoptolemus in the paean and that the more favorable version of the Seventh Nemean constituted Pindar’s apology.28 The view attributed to Aristarchus is general enough (xãrin toË Neoptol°mou, 70) and does not specify the reason of the offense. The more detailed explanation attributed to Aristodemus (150a), however, namely that the Aeginetans criticized Pindar for saying that Neoptolemus went to Delphi with sacrilegious intentions, is not an accurate account of Pindar’s treatment in the Sixth Paean. In the paean it is clear that Apollo was determined to punish Neoptolemus for the impious act of killing the suppliant Priam before his visit to Delphi, but there is nothing to suggest that the quarrel in which Neoptolemus got involved came as a result of his attempt to rob the temple. I agree with Ian Rutherford that if Pindar’s treatment offended the Aeginetans, the reason must have been the sacrilege of killing a suppliant and the continuing antagonism between Apollo and Neoptolemus.29 Whether the Aeginetans really took offense at Pindar’s treatment or the apology hypothesis originated with Aristarchus is a question than can find no conclusive answer. A major obstacle is the uncertainty concerning the chronological relation of the two odes. Beyond this insoluble problem, however, scholarly opinion is divided concerning the interpretation of the concluding epode of the Seventh Nemean (103–105), which some scholars have considered apologetic and therefore referring to the paean, while others have interpreted it as an assertion of Neoptolemus’ proper praise in this ode with no reference to the paean.30 Whether the Seventh Nemean was meant as an apology or not, however, it remains true that it downplays the antagonism between Apollo and Neoptolemus, which means that Pindar considered this version more suitable for an Aeginetan audience. Moreover, Rutherford’s discovery of a marginal subtitle that designates the last triad of the Sixth Paean as a prosodion for the Aeginetans in 27

Tugenhadt 390: “Die für den Vergleich mit dem Epinikion allein wichtige zweite Epode bleibt in das Gesamtmotiv ‘Apollon als Schützer von Ilion’ eingebettet und wird zugleich modifiziert zu ‘Apollon als Rächer der Gottlosigkeit’.” 28 For a challenge to the reliability of the ancient scholia in this case see Smith. 29 Rutherford 323. For a similar argument see Lloyd-Jones 1973: 127–37. 30 For ll. 103–105 as an assertion of a proper encomium see the recent discussions in Burnett 2005: 199–201 with a review of previous scholarship and Currie 330–43; contra D’Alessio 132–39.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

419

honor of Aeacus has revived Farnell’s apology theory and has opened the way to other interpretations as well. Farnell advanced the view that the third triad of the paean, which is dedicated to the praise of Aegina, is “an apologetic postscript, added by Pindar himself, and welded to the fabric of the paean, to soothe the feelings of the Aeginetans.”31 Rutherford has reevaluated the merits of Farnell’s hypothesis in light of his discovery and, in addition, has put forward an alternative scenario to explain the double transmission of the triad as part of the paean and as an independent ode. According to this alternative scenario the paean was originally composed for performance by two choruses: a Delphic chorus would dance the first two triads at the altar and an Aeginetan chorus would perform the third triad in procession towards the altar. After the original performance, the third triad could have been performed separately as a prosodion in Aegina.32 Rutherford credits Farnell’s postscript hypothesis with the “advantage of economy,” but leaves the matter open. If the last triad of the paean was a postscript, as Farnell suggested, the apology hypothesis gains ground. Whatever the actual situation may have been, it is undeniable that the epinician version, silent on Neoptolemus’ sacrilege, emphasizes instead his piety and the grief of the Delphians on account of his death. The question can thus be reversed. Instead of asking how much offense a tale could cause, we can ask how favorable a reception it could find. In light of the vested interest which the Aeginetans had in their Aeacid past, as is manifest in the literature and monuments of the period, there is no question that the epinician version would be far more suitable for an Aeginetan performance. In the first half of the fifth century poetry and monumental structures work in tandem to forge and commemorate the close ties of the island with the glorious offspring of Aeacus. By 480 a new set of pediments was carved for the temple of Aphaea and replaced the earlier pediments that represented an abduction and an Amazonomachy. The first sack of Troy was depicted in the new east pediment, the second sack in the west.33 Since the Aeacids had a leading role in both expeditions, the pedimental sculptures clearly indicate the wish of the Aeginetans to monopolize these heroes. In view of the hostility between Athens and Aegina and of the Athenian counter-effort to appropriate Telamon and Ajax,

31

Farnell 1932: 408. Rutherford 337–38. For an interpretation taking as its starting point Rutherford’s alternative scenario see Kurke 2005. 33 Ohly 47–66; Burnett 2005: 29–44. 32

420

L. ATHANASSAKI

Robin Osborne has suggested that the motivation behind the expensive new sculptural program launched by the Aeginetans must have been political.34 The poetry that the Aeginetans commissioned shows a similar tendency. Two of the fourteen extant epinicians of Bacchylides celebrate Aeginetan victors. Of these ode 12 is too fragmentary. The mythical narrative of ode 13, however, commemorates Ajax’s aristeia in defending the Achaean ships at the time of Achilles’ withdrawal and traces the origin of the two foremost warriors to Aeacus. One fourth of Pindar’s epinicians are composed for Aeginetans and all commemorate their Aeacid ancestry.35 With the exception of the Eighth Pythian, all contain mythical narratives that explore, with varying degree of elaboration, different glorious achievements of the four generations of Aeacids.36 Comparison of the exclusive thematic focus of Pindar and Bacchylides on the Aeacids with the variety of mythological narratives that they choose, for instance in the Hieron odes, shows that their choice must have been affected by the wishes of their patrons. Whether the Aeginetans expressed their wish openly, or the poets sensed it and played along, is impossible to know.37 The exclusive poetic focus on the Aeacids, however, is remarkable and evokes the visual representations of the Aphaea temple and other monuments.38 The individual and communal care that was devoted to the lavish public display of the Aeginetans’ Aeacid ancestry through monumental structures and choral performances indicates that a sacrilegious Aeacid would not be a congenial topic for an Aeginetan celebration. Pindar’s strategy in the Seventh Nemean points in the same direction. If the Sixth Paean predated the Seventh Nemean, the epinician version need not be an apology, but a meditation on the variety of poetic versions on a Panhellenic scale.39 Interestingly, Pindar does not sing of Achilles and Neoptolemus in the Seventh Nemean, but of Ajax and

34

Osborne 1998: 124–27. On the importance of genealogies and myth-manipulation for inter-state rivalries see the recent contribution of David Fearn taking Bacchylides c. 9 as a test-case (Fearn 2003). 35 For Pindar’s odes for Aeginetans see Hornblower 2007. 36 Olympian 8; Nemeans 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8; Isthmians 5, 6, 8. 37 Cf. Burnett 2005: 212 who suggests that Pindar’s “Law of Aiakid Praise,” as she calls it, was self-imposed. 38 Pindar’s Nemea 8.7–12 evokes the entrance relief to the shrine of Aeacus, which is described by Pausanias 2.29.7; see Farnell 1961: 304 ad 9–12. 39 For the Panhellenic character of the mythical narrative of the Sixth Paean see Kowalzig’s interesting discussion.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

421

Neoptolemus, both controversial figures for different reasons.40 Pindar’s repeatedly expressed view of Ajax is consistent: as a warrior Ajax was second only to Achilles. In the Fourth Isthmian (37–39), composed for the Theban Melissos, Pindar praises Homer’s divine verses for doing justice to Ajax’s valor. The Seventh Nemean, however, shows the flipside of the coin. We have seen that the poet’s clever use of the Homeric example implies that Ajax was overshadowed by Odysseus in posterity as he was in his lifetime, because following the views of Ajax’s contemporaries Homer exaggerated Odysseus’ true merit. The poetic error that Pindar attributes to Homer is therefore a matter of perspective and emphasis. Pindar’s criticism of Homer could thus be a meditation on his own different perspective in the paean and a signal for his shift of perspective in the epinician version; as we have seen, in the Seventh Nemean the poet explores the issue of the destiny of the protagonists of the Trojan war from the viewpoint of the Aeacids. The choice of the Homeric example is all the more successful, because Homer was the Panhellenic poet par excellence and the impact of his poetry on the ever-changing audiences was beyond control.41 Of course, Pindar does not make the point explicitly, but it is an inference that his audience could easily draw. The example of Homer’s ‘erroneous’ emphasis and perspective sets a precedent for similar poetic choices and puts the impact of competing poetic accounts on their audiences in a far broader perspective. Celebration of the honorands’ Aeacid ancestry and emphasis on the importance of inherited excellence are characteristics that all Pindaric Aeginetan epinician odes share.42 Sogenes is no exception. In the opening triad Sogenes’ home is described as the song‐loving city of the spear-clashing Aeacids who show great concern for his agonistic spirit (pÒlin går filÒmolpon ofike› doriktÊpvn / Afiakidçn: mãla dÉ §y°lonti sÊmpeiron égvn¤& yumÚn émf°pein,
 9–10). In the concluding triad the poet prays to Heracles to help Sogenes live happily in the well-built sacred street of his ancestors, showing tender concern for his father (eÈtux«w na¤ein patr‹ Svg°nhw étalÚn émf°pvn yumÚn

40

60.

41

For the significance of Pindar’s choice of these two heroes see also Köhnken 42–

For a similar view see Köhnken 55: “Die Dichtung Homers ist bezaubernd schön (21 èduepÆw)
und ihr Einfluß reicht sehr weit (22 potanÒw).”
Pindar was certainly not the first to enter into dialogue with Homer. According to a papyrus commentary (193 P.) Stesichorus blamed Homer and Hesiod in his palinodes. 42 For the importance of the Aeacids for Aeginetan self-definition see Burnett 2005: 13–28, 238–250 and passim.

422

L. ATHANASSAKI

progÒnvn §uktÆmona zay°an êguian,
 90–92).43 The use of identical diction (émf°pein yumÚn)
 to describe a son’s feelings for his father is an unmistakable echo of the feelings of the Aeacids for Sogenes and an effective strategy to bring close together immediate family and remote ancestors. The attempt to bridge the gap between Sogenes’ family and the Aeacids is also obvious in the transition from the story of Neoptolemus to the praise of Sogenes and his father Thearion. The transition is effected by the mention of the splendid achievements of Zeus’ and Aegina’s offspring (50–52), the significance of phya (54–55), and the role of Moira as the dispenser of happiness which is followed by the assertion that she has given Thearion a fair share of prosperity (56–59). Clearly, in the case of Sogenes and the Aeacids Pindar handles the sensitive issue of ancestral misfortune and its eventual reversal in exactly the same way as he did with Theron and the Labdacids. In each instance the honorands enjoy happiness and prosperity that is ancestral, whereas a pair of ancestors exemplify the exception by suffering the blows that the all-powerful Moira occasionally deals. In both cases Apollo is conspicuously distant from the events that lead to disaster. Comparative evidence sheds light on the advantages of foregrounding Moira and distancing Apollo. The Stesichorean fragment is an early witness to the belief that wise behavior can postpone misfortune, a view that Herodotus voices much later through the Pythia’s response to Croesus (1.91). Unlike Moira, prophecy occasionally leaves room for personal choice. Precisely for this reason oracles function not only as catalysts, but as touchstones for the ethos of the recipients. The Lille text is too fragmentary to allow glimpses into the Stesichorean representation of the ethos of Polyneices and Eteocles. We have seen, however, that the Aeschylean Laius does not heed Apollo’s repeated warning and his failure to comply with the divine command causes the god’s relentless wrath. Similarly, Aegisthus does not heed the warning of Hermes in the Odyssey and pays for his defiance with his life. In the Iliad Agamemnon, who finally obeys the Apolline command, shows his irascible and despotic temper in his confrontation with Calchas (1.105–20). The Herodotean Croesus does not recognize the ambiguity of Apollo’s prophecy and the Pythia exposes his lack of good judgement (1.91). The case of Neoptolemus in the Sixth Paean is somewhat different, for in his case Apollo’s antagonism is not due to his attitude to a specific oracle, but to his defiance of established and well-known religious ethics

43

Segal 1967: 473 also noted the parallelism between these two passages, but interpreted its effect differently.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

423

that prescribe respect for suppliants. Neoptolemus’ decision to overlook this principle constitutes in effect defiance of divine command in a broader sense. Defiance of divine precepts or lack of wisdom are faults that would definitely detract from the ancestral excellence that Pindar’s epinicians celebrate and would cast a shadow on the merits of descendants as well.44 Pindar’s portrayal of Diagoras’ ancestor Tlepolemus, which will be discussed in the following section, shows an unmistakable effort to affirm ancestral wisdom and to attribute murder to an unfortunate momentary lapse. The problem with the claim to inherited qualities is the danger of inheriting negative qualities as well as guilt, an issue that found its most magnificent expression on the Athenian stage. In this respect, Polyneices’ reminder of Apollo’s hatred of Laius and its fatal consequences for his race in the Seven sheds light upon the advantages of attributing misfortunes to moira. Unlike prophecy, moira precludes choice and offers therefore the easiest way out of notorious cruces. ii.2 APOLLINE PAS DE DEUX If in the Seventh Nemean Pindar frees Neoptolemus from sacrilege by attributing his death to moira and downplays the antagonism between Apollo and the Aeacids, in the Eighth Olympian he eliminates it. In this instance, the poet casts Apollo, the epic and paeanic defender of Troy, in the role of the prophet of the doomed city’s fall. Apollo’s addressee is Aeacus, the progenitor of the Aeacids (31–52): tÚn pa›w ı LatoËw eÈrum°dvn te Poseidãn, ÉIl¤ƒ m°llontew §p‹ st°fanon teËjai, kal°santo sunergÒn te¤xeow, ∑n ˜ti nin peprvm°non Ùrnum°nvn pol°mvn ptolipÒryoiw §n mãxaiw lãbron émpneËsai kapnÒn. glauko‹ d¢ drãkontew, §pe‹ kt¤syh n°on, pÊrgon §sallÒmenoi tre›w, ofl dÊo m¢n kãpeton, aÔyi dÉ étuzÒmenoi cuxåw bãlon, eÂw dÉ énÒrouse boãsaiw. ¶nnepe dÉ ént¤on ırma¤nvn t°raw eÈyÁw ÉApÒllvn: “P°rgamow émf‹ tea›w, ¥rvw, xerÚw §rgas¤aiw èl¤sketai: 44

For the importance of phya for Pindaric ideology see in particular Rose 160–63.

424

L. ATHANASSAKI Õw §mo‹ fãsma l°gei Kron¤da pemfy¢n barugdoÊpou DiÒw: oÈk êter pa¤dvn s°yen, éllÉ ëma pr≈toiw êrjetai ka‹ tertãtoiw.” Õw ∑ra yeÚw sãfa e‡paiw Jãnyon ≥peigen ka‹ ÉAmazÒnaw eȤppouw ka‹ §w ÖIstron §laÊnvn. ÉOrsotr¤aina dÉ §pÉ ÉIsym“ pont¤& ërma yoÚn tãnuen, épop°mpvn AfiakÒn deËr’ énÉ ·ppoiw xrus°aiw ka‹ Kor¤nyou deirãdÉ §pocÒmenow daitiklutãn. 
 
 
 
 
 whom [sc. Aeacus] the son of Leto and wide-ruling Poseidon, who were about to crown Ilium with battlements, invited to help them build the wall, because it was her destiny at the outbreak of wars in city-destroying battles to breathe out ravening smoke. When the wall was newly built, however, three grey-eyed snakes leapt into the tower; the two fell down and, in a state of terror, lost at once their lives, but one jumped in with a shout. Apollo pondered over the adverse omen and immediately said: “Pergamum will be captured, hero, at the place of your handiwork—so tells me the vision sent by loud-thundering Zeus, son of Cronus—not without your children; but it will begin with the first and also with the fourth.” So the god spoke, clearly, and sped his horses to Xanthus, to the Amazons of the fine horses, and Ister. The Wielder of the Trident, on the other hand, steered his swift chariot to the Isthmus on the sea bringing back to this place Aeacus on golden horses on his way to look upon the ridge of Corinth famous for its festivals.


 The ode was composed for the Olympic victory of the Aeginetan boy Alcimedon, probably in 460. A substantial part is dedicated to the praise of the boy’s trainer Melesias (54–66). Some scholars have seen a parallelism between Apollo and Aeacus on the mythical level and the trainer Melesias and Alcimedon in the hic et nunc. Kevin Crotty, for instance, suggested: “In 60, too, the use of promaye›n
 seems intended to present athletic training as a form of prophecy inasmuch as it provides some foreknowledge of the outcome, enabling athletes to

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

425

be confident of their skills and strength.”45 Yet Pindar’s emphasis is not on Melesias’ predictions but rather on his knowledge and expertise which he imparts to his trainees. Melesias is first and foremost a good teacher because he knows his job (59–60). His trainees show good judgement too, because they recognize the importance of learning in advance (60–61). Melesias is by far the most qualified to tell what deeds and ways will help the contestants win in the games (62–64). What precisely are the deeds (¶rga)
 and the ways (trÒpon)
 that Melesias advised is left unclear, but the reference is presumably to the whole athletic preparation before the games. Like musical education, athletic training did not contradict the belief in phya, but brought out native ability.46 The celebrated example of Chiron shows that for all their claims to the importance of phya, aristocrats did not deny the value of education.47 The important point of comparison between Apollo and Melesias is therefore not prediction per se, but knowledge which the god and human trainer impart to their associates ahead of time. If we are to see a close parallelism between Apollo and Melesias, it follows that Aeacus stands for Alcimedon. Such a neat parallel, however, does not do justice to the rich texture of this ode, for the point of the mythical exemplum is not simply the value of prediction or communication of knowledge, but the divine favor Aeacus enjoyed. In his prophecy to Aeacus, puzzling though it may be, Apollo mentions four generations. The diction is obscure, as is the relation between the portent and the god’s elucidation, and various solutions have been offered. One way out of the difficulty is the solution proposed by Crotty: all that the portent tells Apollo is that Troy will be taken at the place where Aeacus had worked (42–44); the reference to the four generations of Aeacids (45–46) is the god’s own addition.48 If we dissociate the Aeacids from the snakes, the agents of the fall of Troy will be Aeacus in the first generation, who is unintentionally responsible for the weak spot, and Neoptolemus for the second sack in the fourth.49 Whatever interpretation we give to Apollo’s prophecy, however, it is clear that there is no hostility towards the Aeacids on the god’s part. Apollo prophesies in a matter-offact manner the central role of Aeacus and his offspring in the fall of Troy. The 45

Crotty 25; see also Burnett 2005: 217–19 and Nicholson 136–45. For the potential tension between learning and phya see Nicholson 139–45. 47 The paradigm of Chiron as teacher of heroes in Nemean 3.40–53 offers a good example of the role of education in bringing out native ability; on this point see Robbins 1986a: 320–21. 48 Crotty 26 with note 42. 49 For this interpretation see Robbins 1986a with a discussion of ancient and modern views on the significance of the portent; similarly Athanassaki 1990: 44–49. 46

426

L. ATHANASSAKI

glorious deeds of the ancestor find a parallel in the achievements of the descendants. Pindar mentions at least three generations of Blepsiads: Alcimedon and Timosthenes (15–20), whom the ancient scholia identify as Alcimedon’s brother, but Christopher Carey has argued in favor of the grandfather who is later mentioned (70–73).50 In the last epode Alcimedon’s dead father Iphion is said to hear the news of his son’s victory from Angelia and pass on the good news to Callimachus, another dead relative (81–84). Pindar links together living and dead members of the family by the observation that death does not hide the glory of kinsmen (79–80). Noting the parallelism between Aeacid and Blepsiad achievements over the generations, Thomas Hubbard has pointed out that the “theme of inter-generational reflection of glory with descendants’ deeds seen by ancestors and foreshadowed by the virtues and deeds of these ancestors, was very much on Pindar’s mind when writing Ol. 8.”51 The parallelism between the Aeacids and the Blepsiads is reinforced by the theme of prophecy in the mythical exemplum and the encomium. The ode opens with the mention of oracular consultation at Olympia before the contests, when seers examine burnt offerings in order to test Zeus’ plan as to the outcome of the contests (·na mãntiew . . . / §mpÊroiw parapeir«ntai DiÚw érgikeraÊnou,
 2–3). The testing of Zeus’ will before the games parallels Apollo’s prophecy to Aeacus, which has as its starting point the omen Zeus sends (fãsma l°gei Kron¤da / pemfy¢n barugdoÊpou DiÒw, 44–45).52 An ancient scholion reports that Didymus considered the collaboration of Aeacus Pindar’s innovation (parÉ oÈden‹ d¢ presbut°rƒ Pindãrou ≤ flstor¤a,
 41a). According to Didymus Pindar introduced Aeacus as a collaborator in order to show that Troy was conquerable through the part that Aeacus built (·na diå toÊtou toË m°rouw ÍpÚ AfiakoË ofikodomhy°ntow èl≈simow g°nhtai ≤ ÖIliow,
 41a). The two divergent accounts in the Iliad corroborate Didymus’

50

The ancient scholia identify Timosthenes as Alcimedon’s brother (16), Iphion as the father, and Callimachus as an uncle or alternatively as mere relatives. For the identification of Timosthenes as Alcimedon’s grandfather see Carey 1989. Kurke 1991: 293–98 raised objections to Carey’s identification and suggested that Alcimedon must have had the same name as his grandfather. Burnett 2005: 208 adopts Carey’s identification and suggests that it was Timosthenes who commissioned the ode. 51 Hubbard 1987: 21. Race 134 also remarks on the close parallelism between the Aeacids and the Blepsiads. 52 Crotty 26.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

427

view.53 In Book 7 Poseidon complains to Zeus about the new Achaean wall and voices the fear that the wall he and Apollo once built will be forgotten (451–53). In Book 21 Poseidon reminds Apollo of their service to Laomedon, when he built the wall and Apollo tended Laomedon’s herds (441–49). The divergence has been variously explained, but for our purposes it is more significant that neither version acknowledges the participation of Aeacus.54 In the second Iliadic passage, Poseidon claims that he built a wide and very strong wall so as to make the city unconquerable (eÈrÊ te ka‹ mãla kalÒn, ·nÉ êrrhktow pÒliw e‡h,
 21.447). In Book 6, however, Andromache mentions a weak spot in the wall, where both city and wall can be overrun (émbatÒw §sti pÒliw ka‹ §p¤dromon ¶pleto te›xow,
434). Andromache does not give reasons for the vulnerability of that part of the wall, but, as Farnell suggested, the Iliad may reflect here a tradition according to which the cause of the weak spot was the work of a mortal.55 Interesting too is Andromache’s point that some of the Achaeans thrice tried this spot either out of their own initiative or because somebody skilled in prophecy told them (6.435–39). The identity of the prophet is unclear, but Apollo is excluded, for as the defender of Troy in the Iliad, he could not have been the one to reveal to the Achaeans the weak spot. The two different Iliadic traditions clearly underlie Pindar’s version, but the addition of Aeacus to the building team and, more important, Apollo’s prophecy to him give the mythological narrative of the Eighth Olympian a totally different new turn.56 Viewed as an exemplum of divine favor to Aeacus, Apollo’s prophecy has a double function. Insofar as the Blepsiads are concerned, the prophecy foreshadows their achievements and points up their inherited excellence. Inasmuch as the Aeacids are concerned, the god’s prediction, framed by the divine invitation to Aeacus to collaborate and by his departure in the company of Poseidon, is an effective poetic strategy to obliterate the antagonism between Apollo and the Aeacids. The contrast between the representation of the role of Apollo and moira in this ode and in the Second Olympian and Seventh Nemean could not have been sharper. Pindar mentions in passing the design of destiny (∑n . . . peprvm°non), but the centerpiece of the mythical narrative is unquestionably the divine favor to Aeacus and Apollo’s spontaneous prophecy. The balance is cleverly reversed. Apollo’s diction is carefully chosen so as not to leave out Neoptolemus and his crucial role in the fourth generation. 53

See also Hubbard 1987: 17–22 who argues in favor of Pindaric innovation. For the divergence see Kirk 288–89 and Richardson 89–90. 55 Farnell 1930: 45. 56 For Apollo’s prophecy as Pindar’s innovation see Hubbard 1987: 21. 54

428

L. ATHANASSAKI

In comparison to the representation of Apollo’s relationship with the Aeacids in the Sixth Paean, the Eighth Olympian is a tour de force. An intriguing question is whether the Eighth Olympian was composed for performance at Olympia or Aegina. The opening invocation of the personified Olympia, which is followed by an invocation of the grove of Pisa and a prayer to accept the komos, defines Olympia as the celebratory setting. In the second strophe, however, the reference to Aegina through the deictic expression tãnd' èlierk°a x≈ran (25) signals a shift of the locus of performance from Olympia to Aegina. With regard to the locus of performance there is no scholarly consensus, but I find more persuasive Franco Ferrari’s solution, who suggested an original performance at Olympia after the victory that anticipates a future performance in Aegina.57 In this scenario, the political significance of Pindar’s innovative treatment of Apollo’s prophecy to Aeacus would be much more pointed, since the targeted audience of the first performance would be in all likelihood the Panhellenic audience of the games. Reperformance on Aegina, on the other hand, would evoke the performance at Olympia and would be a reminder of the Panhellenic display of Apollo’s favor to the Aeacids.58 We may now turn to the Sixth Olympian. Pindar is our earliest source for the myth of Iamus, the progenitor of the honorand’s family on his maternal side. Wilamowitz posited an Elean epic as Pindar’s source, but the ancient scholia provide no hint of any preexisting version.59 Whether and to what extent Pindar followed a local epic is, therefore, impossible to ascertain, but Apollo’s benevolence and munificence to the great ancestor of the
honorand is typical of Pindar’s representation of the god’s attitude to a favored few. Wilamowitz was of

57

Ferrari 146–47; similarly Athanassaki 2004: 337 and n. 42 (I came to the same view independently of Ferrari). In favor of performance at Olympia: see Gildersleeve 192; Farnell 1961: 59. Scholars who favor performance on Aegina explain the initial localization at Olympia differently. Wilamowitz 1922: 403, for intance, postulated an Aeginetan Olympieion. Burnett 2005: 208 n. 4 thought that the invocation to Olympia is equivalent to the wish to please a distant audience as in N. 4.46. Thummer 1.32. n. 11, criticizing Wilamowitz’s view, suggested poetic fiction whereby poet and audience are vicariously transported to Olympia. 58 I discuss in detail the broader political significance of Pindar’s choices in Olympian 8 vis-à-vis a Panhellenic audience in a forthcoming paper; see Athanassaki forthcoming. 59 Wilamowitz 1886: 174.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

429

two minds as to whether Apollo was already part of local traditions, but thought that the scene between Apollo and Iamus had Pindar’s own touch.60 The ode was composed for the Olympic victory in the mule chariot, probably in 468, of Hagesias, a close associate of Hieron, whose family participated in the foundation of Syracuse and whose maternal side held a hereditary priesthood at Olympia. Pindar praises Hagesias for his athletic achievement and his political prominence, but not surprisingly his emphasis is on Hagesias’ Iamid ancestry. The extensive mythical narrative covers almost half of the ode and focuses on two scenes: the events surrounding the birth of Iamus (28–57) and Apollo’s prompt response to his son’s invocation and request for honor, when he reached adolescence (57–70). In both scenes Apollo’s care for his son is manifest. Evadne, daughter of the nymph Pitane and Poseidon, was raised by king Aepytus; in due time she lies with Apollo, becomes pregnant with his child, and tries, unsuccessfuly, to hide her pregnancy. Aepytus discovers her secret, but suppresses his anger and goes to Delphi to inquire of the god. To Evadne, who meanwhile gives birth to the baby secretly, Apollo sends Eleithyia and the Fates; through divine design too two serpents feed the newborn with honey. The presence of the divinities and the nurturing snakes foreshadow Iamus’ extraordinary future, which is confirmed by Apollo’s response to Aepytus. Upon his return from Delphi Aepytus tries to find the still hidden newborn and declares publicly Iamus’ Apolline parentage (Fo¤bou går aÈtÚn fç gegãkein patrÒw,
 49–50), his future extraordinary mantic authority among mortals (per‹ ynat«n dÉ ¶ssesyai mãntin §pixyon¤oiw ¶joxon,
50–51), and the fact that his race will never end (oÈd° potÉ §kle¤cein geneãn,
51). The narrative leaves open the outcome of Aepytus’ search. All we learn is that Evadne chooses the name Iamus for the baby
 because violets (‡a)
 cover his tender body in the thicket where he is hidden (53–57). The qualification of the name as immortal (ˆnumÉ éyãnaton,
 57)
 at the conclusion of the first scene reinforces Apollo’s prophecy with respect to the continuity of the genos. With the assertion of the immortality of Iamus’ name, the scene shifts rapidly to the time when Iamus, now an adolescent, goes at night to Alpheus and invokes his grandfather Poseidon and his father Apollo requesting honors that will enable him to serve his people. Of the two gods it is Apollo who reaches out to him promptly and speaks clearly (éntefy°gjato dÉ értiepÆw patr¤a ˆssa, 60

Wilamowitz 1886: 175. Defradas 1974: 39 interpreted Apollo’s prominence as an attempt to attribute to the god of Delphi patronage of Zeus’ oracle at Olympia. For Apollo’s prominence vis-à-vis Zeus see also Garner 48.

430

L. ATHANASSAKI

metãllas°n t° nin,
61–62). Apollo’s request to Iamus to follow his voice to the land which is shared by all is rendered in direct discourse (62–63). After the short Apolline quotation the narrative shifts again to third person and Pindar describes their arrival at the hill of Cronus where Apollo bestows on Iamus exceptional privileges (64–70):
 
 
 
 ·konto dÉ Íchlo›o p°tran él¤baton Kron¤ou ¶nya ofl ὤpase yhsaurÚn d¤dumon mantosÊnaw, tÒka m¢n fvnån ékoÊein ceud°vn êgnvton, eÔtÉ ín d¢ yrasumãxanow §ly≈n ÑHrakl°hw, semnÚn yãlow ÉAlkaÛdçn, patr¤ •ortãn te kt¤s˙ pleistÒmbroton teymÒn te m°giston é°ylvn, ZhnÚw §pÉ ékrotãtƒ bvm” tÒtÉ aÔ xrhstÆrion y°syai k°leusen.
 
 And they reached the steep rock of Cronus’ high hill, where he bestowed on him the twin treasure of prophecy, to hear at that time the voice that knows no falsehood, and then—when the bold in resource Heracles, the honored offspring of the Alcaids, should come and found for his father a festival crowded with people and the greatest institution of games—he ordered him to establish his oracle at the highest altar of Zeus. The remote time of the event is remarkable. Apollo designates Iamus as an official seer at Olympia before the foundation of the Olympic games. The antiquity of the event is consistent with the cosmogonic character of the myth of Iamus that places the episode at a time when the world was taking shape, as Charles Segal has shown.61 The mythical narrative concludes with the scene of Apollo’s splendid gifts to Iamus and is followed by the reminder that the much renowned Iamids draw their origin to him (§j o polÊkleiton kay’ ÜEllanaw g°now ÉIamidçn,
 72). Through a cluster of statements that point out their prosperity, their honorable deeds, their renown, and finally the danger of blame as a result of envy 61

Segal 1986: 94–105 where, in addition to the Sixth Olympian, Segal discussed the three Cyrenean odes and the Seventh Olympian.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

431

for great achievements Pindar resumes the praise of Hagesias and his maternal genos and home, Stymphalos, where the performance is taking place (73–91). The ode ends with the praise of Hieron, the anticipation of a future performance in Syracuse, and a prayer to Poseidon to secure a safe trip home for Hagesias and his friends and the flourishing of his own song (92–105). The locus of the first performance may have suggested the choice of mythical subject matter. Eva Stehle has suggested that the poet’s choice and treatment of subject aims at making relevant the victory celebration to a community that was not the honorand’s own, but consisted of maternal relatives to whom Hagesias paid a visit on his way back to Syracuse.62 To this attractive suggestion I will add that the hereditary seerhood of the honorand’s maternal ancestors was for the poet a congenial topic in and of itself and one that gave him the opportunity to depict the Apolline parentage of Iamus and thus foreground the honorand’s ancestral privilege and wisdom. The explicit association of Hagesias with Amphiaraus in the opening triad highlights the honorand’s martial prowess and wisdom (12–18). The story of Iamus adds that his wisdom is ancestral. As Simon Goldhill pointed out, Apollo’s two prophecies “predict Iamos’ descendant, Hagesias.”63 The similarities in the depiction of Apollo’s interaction with Aeacus and Iamus in the Eighth and Sixth Olympians respectively are noteworthy. Both episodes are projected into a very remote past when the worlds of mortals and immortals were not yet separated. Thus Apollo predicts the fall of Troy at the moment of its first fortification and the mantic priesthood of the Iamids before the institution of the Olympic games. It is also remarkable that whereas Poseidon is present in both stories, the scenes each feature only Apollo speaking to a mortal addressee of divine origin. The addressees are represented as the great ancestors of the honorands whose athletic achievements constitute a manifestation of excellence predicted in the very remote past. Finally, the clarity of the god’s speech receives special mention in both instances (sãfa e‡paiw, O. 8.46 / értiepÆw patr¤a ˆssa,
O. 6.61–62).
 Pindar offers a very similar picture in his representations of Apollo’s interaction with Tlepolemus in the Seventh Olympian and Battus the First in the Fourth and Fifth Pythians, respectively ancestors of the celebrated boxer Diagoras and of king Arcesilaus the Fourth. In the colonial narratives of Rhodes and Cyrene Apollo’s oracles interlock with much earlier prophecies which they are represented either as fulfilling or as complementing: Apollo’s oracle to Battus 62 63

Stehle 160. Goldhill 155; see also 149.

432

L. ATHANASSAKI

in the Fourth Pythian is said to fulfill Medea’s prophecy in the seventeenth generation, whereas the god’s response to Tlepolemus represents the final stage in the foundation of Rhodes which began with Helios’ prediction of the emergence of the island from the sea, when the gods apportioned the earth.64 The colonization of Rhodes is already attested in the Catalogue of Ships, whereas Herodotus provides variant accounts of the colonization of Cyrene. Comparison of the Homeric and Herodotean accounts with the epinician representations of Apollo’s role in both colonizations shows once again Pindar’s own touch. The colonization of Rhodes first. In broad outline the Pindaric and the Homeric accounts tell essentially the same story, namely Tlepolemus’ murder of his maternal uncle Licymnius, his flight from home, the successful colonization of Rhodes and Zeus’ favor towards the island, which is instantiated by the wealth he poured over the Rhodians. The epinician version differs from the epic account on several points, but the major departure from the epic tradition is Tlepolemus’ visit to Delphi to consult Apollo (27–37): ka‹ går ÉAlkmÆnaw kas¤gnhton nÒyon skãptƒ yen≈n sklhrçw §la¤aw ¶ktanen T¤runyi LikÊmnion §lyÒntÉ §k yalãmvn Mid°aw tçsd° pote xyonÚw ofikistØr xolvye¤w. afl d¢ fren«n taraxa¤ par°plagjan ka‹ sofÒn. manteÊsato dÉ §w yeÚn §ly≈n. t“ m¢n ı xrusokÒmaw eÈ≈deow §j édÊtou na«n plÒon e‰pe Lerna¤aw épÉ éktçw eÈyÁn §w émfiyãlasson nomÒn, ¶nya pot¢ br°xe ye«n basileÁw ı m°gaw xrus°aiw nifãdessi pÒlin, èn¤xÉ ÑAfa¤stou t°xnaisin xalkelãtƒ pel°kei pat°row ÉAyana¤a korufån katÉ êkran énoroÊsaisÉ élãlajen Ípermãkei boò.

64

For the effect of the retrogressive interlocking prophecies see Athanassaki 2003.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

433

Thus once in Tiryns the founder of this land, filled with anger, struck with a staff of hard olive and killed Likymnios, Alcmena’s bastard brother, when he came from the chambers of Midea. Disturbances of mind lead even a wise man astray. He went to the god to consult the oracle. From within his sweet-smelling sanctuary the Golden-haired spoke of a straightforward voyage from the shore of Lerna to a seagirt pasture land, where once the great king of gods drenched the city with a golden snowstorm, when by the skill of Hephaestus and with an axe forged of bronze Athena leapt up from the top of her father’s head with a tremendous shout. In addition to Apollo’ crucial role, the Pindaric version differs from the epic account on the following points: (a) whereas Pindar attributes Tlepolemus’ act to anger, the epic gives no motive; (b) Pindar does not mention fear as the reason for Tlepolemus’ departure; in contrast, fear of the other Heraclids provides the motivation in the Iliad (épe¤lhsan gãr ofl êlloi / ufl°ew uflvno¤ te b¤hw ÑHrakle¤hw,
 665/6); (c) in the Seventh Olympian Apollo predicts a straightforward voyage to Rhodes, whereas the Iliadic voyage includes wandering and suffering (aÈtår ˜ gÉ §w ÑRÒdon Âjen él≈menow, êlgea pãsxvn,
667).65 Whether Tlepolemus’ visit to Delphi is Pindar’s innovation,
as Wilamowitz and other scholars have suggested, or an already established post-Homeric tradition which the poet chose to follow is impossible to ascertain.66 The unmediated and smooth communication between Apollo and Tlepolemus in the Seventh Olympian, however, follows the pattern we have seen in the Eighth and Sixth Olympians and has therefore an unmistakable Pindaric ring. It is Apollo himself who responds to Tlepolemus and predicts a straightforward voyage to Rhodes (na«n plÒon . . . eÈyÁn). Unlike the epic version, there is no mention of wandering and suffering. Apollo’s prophecy of the colonization of Rhodes merges into the earlier prophecy of Helios to his sons, which in turn leads to the sun god’s still earlier prediction of the birth of Rhodes. The regressive narrative does not offer any further information concerning Tlepolemus’ colonial mission until its end, where the success of the enterprise becomes manifest through the mention of the periodic honors, which Tlepolemus receives as oecist after his death
(77– 80). Diagoras, one of the most celebrated athletes of his age, acquired with time a legendary status. According to the scholia, the Rhodians maintained that 65

For further differences between the two accounts see Young 83–84. For Apollo’s prophecy as Pindar’s innovation see e.g. Wilamowitz 1922: 366; Young 83; Defradas 1974; Dougherty 123–25. 66

434

L. ATHANASSAKI

he was a son of Hermes;
 there had been no other instance of father and sons winning Olympic victories ever since Heracles founded the Olympic games; his daughter Callipateira was the only woman who gained entrance to the Olympic games when she said that she was the daughter, sister, mother, and aunt of Olympic victors (inscr. a). Cicero reports a charming story: a Spartan seeing Diagoras borne on the shoulders of his two victorious sons exclaimed: morere Diagora, non enim in caelum ascensurus es (Tusc. Disp. 1.46.111). According to Pausanias, Diagoras’ father Damagetus was a king in Ialysos (4.24.2–3). To judge from Pindar’s impressive catalog of victories Diagoras must have been already famous by 464, but this was probably too early for the legendary fame that later sources reflect. Comparison of his later fame with Pindar’s praise, however, shows that unlike later tradition, which focuses on the merits of Diagoras and his progeny, Pindar’s strategy is to sing of Diagoras’ achievements in the light of his illustrious ancestry.67 The close association of Diagoras with the Heracleid Tlepolemus is evident in the statements that preface and conclude the mythical narrative and link it to the encomiastic hic et nunc. The second triad opens with the declaration of the poetic intention to set forth for Diagoras and Damagetus, beginning with Tlepolemus, “the history they share as members of Herakles’ mighty race,” in William Race’s translation (§yelÆsv to›sin . . . épÚ Tlapol°mou / junÚn . . . diory«sai lÒgon, / ÑHrakl°ow eÈrusyene› g°nna,
 20–23). The mention of the games in honor of Tlepolemus at the end of the long mythical narrative forms the link for the transition to the praise of Diagoras
(77–80). In the impressive list of Diagoras’ panhellenic and local victories
 that immediately follows, Pindar mentions first his two victories at the Tlepolemeia, thus linking closely the honorand and his remote ancestor (80–81). The list of Diagoras’ victories is followed by a prayer to Zeus Atabyrios to honor the celebratory performance and grant the victor the respect of his fellow-citizens and xenoi, which concludes with an assertion of Diagoras’ inherited excellence (90–92): §pe‹ Ïbriow §xyrån ıdÒn eÈyupore›, sãfa dae‹w ë te ofl pat°rvn Ùrya‹ fr°new §j égay«n ¶xreon. 


67

For the parallelism between Tlepolemus and Diagoras in terms of violence and risk, common to colonization and athletics, see Dougherty 126–28.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

435

for he travels straight along a road that is hostile to hybris, having clearly learned what right wits inherited from his noble forefathers revealed to him. But who are Diagoras’ wise ancestors that Pindar is thinking of at the conclusion of the ode? On his mother’s side Diagoras is an Amyntorid, but this is the only mention of his maternal ancestry (23–24). Of the Heraclids the poet has already named three: his father Damagetus, who is said to please Dike (èdÒnta D¤k&,
 18),
 a certain Kallianax
 (93), who may have been singled out for mention on account of his meaningful name, and his great ancestor Tlepolemus who atoned for murder by his consultation and obedience to Apollo’s oracle. It is possible, however, that at the conclusion of the ode the poet also enlists the glorious Heliadae. I have argued elsewhere that the Seventh Olympian shows a clear tendency to mask colonial disruption through the fusion of Doric and pre-Doric past
 on the narrative level.68 It is significant that the description of the honors, which Tlepolemus receives after his death, immediately follows the account of Helios’ progeny. If Pindar associates the Heliadae and Tlepolemus in linear catalog fashion, in the case of Diagoras he resorts to close parallelism through similar content and diction. Diagoras’ inherited wisdom clearly echoes the inherited wisdom of the Heliadae.69 The seven sons of Helios and Rhodes are said to have inherited the wisest counsels of all men (sof≈tata noÆmatÉ §p‹ prot°rvn éndr«n paradejam°nouw, 72).
 We have seen that Diagoras has clearly learned what inherited wisdom has revealed to him (sãfa dae‹w ë te ofl pat°rvn Ùrya‹ fr°new §j égay«n ¶xreon,
91–92).
Moreover, the choice of the verb ¶xreon
 (92), which the scholiasts take in its oracular sense, i.e. §xrhsm–doun, to denote the way Diagoras’ ancestors imparted their knowledge to their descendant, has a double effect: it echoes Helios’ prediction of the birth of Athena to his sons and his advice to honor their future debt to the goddess (tÒte . . . ÑUperion¤daw m°llon ¶nteilen fulãjasyai xr°ow pais‹n f¤loiw, 39–41) and, simultaneously, evokes Apollo’s oracular response to Tlepolemus to sail to Rhodes. In the Seventh Olympian ancestral wisdom is affirmed, despite the momentary more or less serious lapses which have, significantly, a divine paradigm, for even the gods forgot to allot Helios his share of land (58–61). 68

Athanassaki 2003: 108–13. Gildersleeve 191 ad 91 noting the parallelism obseves: “This is poetry for ‘hereditary good sense’.” 69

436

L. ATHANASSAKI

Similarly, due to a momentary lapse of memory the Rhodians forget to bring fire for their sacrifice to Athena, but Zeus mends swiftly the situation by pouring down upon them golden rain (45–50). Tlepolemus’ lapse is far more serious, but momentary and, for this reason, does not cancel out his wisdom. This is evident from the gnome that qualifies the description of his deed: “disturbances of mind lead even a wise man astray” (30–31). It is remarkable that even in a situation of clear personal responsibility, Pindar does not represent Apollo’s oracle as the agent of retribution, but of reparation. In this ode momentary lapse and reparation is a repeated pattern in the mythical narrative. Apollo’s benevolent attitude to Tlepolemus closely parallels Zeus’ and Athena’s benevolence to the Heliadae despite their forgetfulness, which in turn reflects Helios’ complacent attitude to the gods upon his return and realization of their omission. Zeus’ proposition to cast the lots again shows that the omission was not intentional. Likewise, the forgetfulness of the Heliadae was involuntary (45–47): §p‹ mån ba¤nei ti ka‹ lãyaw ét°kmarta n°fow, ka‹ par°lkei pragmãtvn Ùryån ıdÒn ¶jv fren«n.

Yet some cloud of forgetfulness comes over people, without warning, and draws the right path of action out of their minds. The similarity between the description of the state of mind of the Heliadae and that of Tlepolemus is quite remarkable and argues in favor of the view that several details of the Pindaric version suggest that the murder was involuntary.70 Yet Tlepolemus’ responsibility, underplayed though it is, may be the underlying reason for Pindar’s decision to associate Diagoras’ ancestral wisdom with the wisdom of the Heliadae.71 We can now turn to the Fourth and Fifth Pythians, where Apollo and his oracle play a major role.72 Pindar and the Herodotus are our earliest sources for

70

Defradas 1974: 39–43; Dougherty 124–25. Kurke 1991: 201 suggests that in the treatment of the myth in this ode “transforms all Rhodes’s ‘children’ into a single symbolic oikos (69–76).” 72 I will not discuss the variant version in the Ninth Pythian, because in this ode Pindar reverses the roles and casts Chiron in the role of the prophet and Apollo in the role 71

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

437

the colonization of Cyrene and they both attribute a major role to the Delphic oracle.73 Yet in terms of the nature of communication between the divine and the human archagete the epinician and the historical versions offer totally different pictures. According to Herodotus the unsuccessful attempts and delays are attributed to neglect and ignorance of the Apolline oracles and to the Pythia’s unwillingness to provide any further information beyond her repeated command for the colonization. In the Fourth and Fifth Pythians, on the other hand, ignorance does not come into play at all thanks to Apollo’s presence and strong support. Herodotus provides two variant versions of the consultation of the Delphic oracle. According to the Therans the Pythia commanded king Grinnus to send a colony to Libya and he tried to delegate the undertaking to Battus on account of his old age (4.150). Conversely the Cyreneans, in disagreement with the Therans with regard to the recipient of the oracle, maintained that the Pythia ordered Battus to colonize Libya on the occasion of his visit to Delphi to consult the god about his stammer
(4.155): 
 
 


BãttÉ, §p‹ fvnØn ∑lyew: ênaj d° se Fo›bow ÉApÒllvn §w LibÊhn p°mpei mhlotrÒfon ofikist∞ra,
 
 
 
 
 Battus, you have come for your voice; but the lord Phoebus Apollo sends you to Libya, nurse of flocks, to found a city.

Battus’ initial reaction is to point out to the Pythia his inability to undertake the mission and to convince her to give him another response, but in vain (oÈk‹ ¶peiye êlla ofl xrçn,
 4.155). When the Pythia repeated the same command, Battus left for Thera. Back on Thera things did not go well for either Battus or the Therans. When they inquired of the god, the Pythia reiterated the command to colonize Libya. This time, the Therans sent Battus off to Libya with some men, but when they arrived they could not decide what to do and so they returned to Thera. The Therans, however, did not let them put in, but ordered them to go back. Forced to go back, they settled in Plataea, an island off the coast of Libya (4.156). They stayed on the island for two years, but did not prosper, so once again they went to Delphi for consultation saying that, despite their settlement in

of the addressee. See Dougherty 136–56; Calame 2003: 67–79; Athanassaki 2003: 96– 101. 73 For a comparative discussion see Dougherty 104–107; Calame 2003: 35–113.

438

L. ATHANASSAKI

Libya, their situation had not improved. Their claim prompted a rather ironic response from Apollo: afi tÁ §meË LibÊhn mhlotrÒfon o‰daw êmeinon, mØ §ly∆n §lyÒntow, êgan êgamai sof¤hn seu. 
 if you know sheep-feeding Libya better than me, not having been there, whereas I have, I admire your wisdom very much. Once more Battus and his men sailed back, but this time they crossed to the mainland and founded a city at Aziris (4.56). From the Herodotean account it is clear that ignorance is the main cause for the several delays in the colonization.74 Apollo’s second oracle to Battus and his team underlines precisely their lack of good judgment and sets them at long last on the right course of action. In terms of content, Herodotus’ first oracle to Battus is identical with the oracle Pindar reports in the Fourth Pythian, but unlike Herodotus Pindar does not mention any unsuccessful attempts or their cause nor Apollo’s second oracle. The Fourth Pythian focuses on the scene of Battus’ first consultation in Delphi and rapidly shifts to the honor Apollo has bestowed on Arcesilaus, thus drawing a close parallel between the first and the eighth Battiad king (59–67):
 
 Œ mãkar ufl¢ Polumnãstou, s¢ dÉ §n toÊtƒ lÒgƒ xrhsmÚw ὤryvsen mel¤ssaw Delf¤dow aÈtomãtƒ kelãdƒ: ë se xa¤rein §str‹w aÈdãsaisa peprvm°non basil°' êmfanen Kurãn&, dusyrÒou fvnçw énakrinÒmenon poinå t¤w ¶stai prÚw ye«n. ∑ mãla dØ metå ka‹ nËn, Àte foinikany°mou ∑row ékmò, pais‹ toÊtoiw ˆgdoon yãllei m°row ÉArkes¤law: t“ m¢n ÉApÒllvn ë te Puy∆ kËdow §j

74

See the detailed discussion in Calame 2003: 88–92 who pointed out that the knowledge that the Pythia imparts to the future colonists is from their point of view partial and must be supplemented by the knowledge of other men.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

439

ÉAmfiktuÒnvn75 ¶poren flppodrom¤aw. 
 Blessed son of Polymnestus, it was you whom the oracle, in accordance with this prophecy, exalted through the spontaneous utterance of the Delphic Bee; she thrice greeted you “rejoice,’’ manifesting you as the destined king for Cyrene, while you were asking what remedy would come from the gods for your ill-sounding voice. Truly indeed afterwards and even at this moment, as at the height of spring with its red flowers, at the eighth generation of these descendants Arcesilaus flourishes. To him Apollo and Pytho granted renown from the chariot-race of the Amphictyons.
 This is the third and most detailed description of the scene in Delphi which Pindar outlined at the opening of the ode (4–8) and reiterated as part of Medea’s prophecy (53–56).76 At the opening the poet asserts that the priestess proclaimed Battus the founder of Cyrene in the presence of Apollo (oÈk épodãmou ÉApÒllvnow tuxÒntow, 5). The ancient scholiast remarks that
 the mention of Apollo’s presence shows the reliability of the prophecy (diå toÊtvn §mfa¤nei t«n =hy°ntvn tÚ ésfal°w, ad 8). This is certainly a sound remark, but since Pindar constructs all prophecy as reliable, his emphasis on Apollo’s presence suggests that he wanted to include Battus in the same privileged group of heroes such as Aeacus, Iamus, and Tlepolemus. Medea’s prediction of the scene in Delphi corroborates this view, for her description of the interaction between Battus and Apollo is strongly reminiscent of Apollo’s response to Tlepolemus (tÚn m¢n poluxrÊsƒ potÉ §n d≈mati / Fo›bow émnãsei y°missin,
53–54). The privilege of Apollo’s presence in the consultation process becomes much more pronounced when compared with his distance from the chilling oracle to Pelias that was spoken in Pytho (71–78).77 The absence of Apollo in the case of Pelias is an unpropitious omen, whereas his presence in the case of Battus is a signal of favor and success. The Fifth Pythian offers additional evidence of Apollo’s presence and continuing support of Battus. In this ode the focus is not on Battus’ visit to Delphi, but on his arrival in Libya. Unlike the several unsuccessful attempts 75

Snell–Maehler treat the word as lower-case. I follow here Race who takes the word as a reference to the official overseers; see also Braswell ad 66–67. 76 See also Segal 1986: 136–37 on the significance of prophecy and above n. 12. 77 On the oracles to Pelias see Segal 1986: 45–46.

440

L. ATHANASSAKI

recorded by Herodotus, Pindar makes reference to a single voyage, which is not associated with any misunderstandings and delays, but is, instead, characterized by speed. In the brief narration of Battus’ voyage to Cyrene Pindar mentions the speed of the ships that carried his men and swiftly passes on to his impressive foundation program that earned him a founder-hero cult after his death (87–96). Earlier in the narrative Apollo’s active support of Battus’ civilizing program receives special emphasis (57–62): ke›nÒn ge ka‹ barÊkompoi l°ontew per‹ de¤mati fÊgon, gl«ssan §pe¤ sfin ép°neiken Íperpont¤an: ı dÉ érxag°taw ¶dvkÉ ÉApÒllvn y∞raw afin“ fÒbƒ, ˆfra mØ tam¤& Kurãnaw ételØw g°noito manteÊmasin. 
 
 
 
 even loud roaring lions fled in fear from that man, when he directed his overseas tongue at them; and Apollo, the founder of the colony, gave over the beasts to dreadful fear lest his oracles to the steward of Cyrene go unfulfilled.




Battus’ encounter with the lions alludes most probably to the story of how he was cured from his stammer, which is attested by Pausanias (10.15.7). According to Pausanias, who does not mention Apolline agency, Battus saw a lion in an uninhabited area of Cyrene and his fear made him shout clearly and loudly (tÚ de›ma tÚ §k t∞w y°aw bo∞sai saf¢w ka‹ m°ga ±nãgkasen).
Whether this is the underlying tradition in the Pindaric version or not, comparison of the two stories shows a remarkable reversal of the natural behavioral patterns in the Pindaric version, thanks to Apollo’s intervention. In the Fifth Pythian the emphasis is not on the fear that Battus experienced, but on the fear he inspired in the lions. Responsible for the unusual situation of lions fleeing from man is Apollo, who is actively involved in the fulfillment of his prophecy.78 Apollo’s presence and support of Battus both in Delphi and Cyrene closely parallels the god’s favor to Arcesilaus, which is repeatedly expressed in

78

For the colonial significance of this passage see Dougherty 105.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

441

both odes composed in his honor.79
 The fact that Apollo is archagete and the patron-god of the games, where Arcesilaus won his chariot victory, facilitates the close parallelism between ancestor and descendant. Another facilitating factor is the continuity of the Battiad royal line. Pindar does not restrict himself, however, to Arcesilaus’ Cyrenean royal lineage. Through the interlocking oracles of Medea and the Pythia in the Fourth Pythian he weaves tightly the threads that lead to his Minyan origin.80 In addition to his noble ancestry, Pindar time and again stresses Arcesilaus’ wisdom.81 His noble ancestry and wisdom are treated together in the first antistrophe of the Fifth Pythian, which concludes with reference to his Pythian victory, a clear sign of Apollo’s favor (12–23): sofo‹ d° toi kãllion f°ronti ka‹ tån yeÒsdoton dÊnamin. s¢ dÉ §rxÒmenon §n d¤k& polÁw ˆlbow émfin°metai: tÚ m°n, ˜ti basileÊw §ss¤: megalçn pol¤vn ¶xei suggenÆw ÙfyalmÚw afidoiÒtaton g°raw teò toËto meignÊmenon fren¤: mãkar d¢ ka‹ nËn, kleennçw ˜ti eÔxow ≥dh parå Puyiãdow ·ppoiw •l≈n d°dejai tÒnde k«mon én°rvn, ÉApoll≈nion êyurma: 
 
 
 Indeed wise men bear even their god-given power better. And as you walk in the path of justice great prosperity surrounds you; on the one hand, because you are a king; the inherited pride of great cities holds this most venerable honor—an honor combined with your intelligence; and you are blessed now too, for having won a triumph recently at the Pythian festival with your horses you have received this celebrating chorus of men, Apollo’s plaything.




79

For Apollo’s favor to Arcesilaus see in particular: Fourth Pythian 65–67; 259–62; 270; Fifth Pythian 20–23; 103–107. 80 For the effects of the retrogressive narrative see Segal 1986: 72–105; Calame 2003: 43–60; Athanassaki 2003: 101–105. 81 In addition to the passage cited, see also Pythian 4.259–62; Pythian 5.108–11.

442

L. ATHANASSAKI

Noble inheritance, wisdom, and Apolline favor are all combined in the person of the descendant of Battus. As Claude Calame observed, Arcesilaus “appears with traits of a second Apollo through the intermediary of his ancestor Battus, the founder of Cyrene.”82 To sum up: Pindar is our earliest source for Apollo’s harmonious interaction with Aeacus, Iamus, Tlepolemus, and Battus, the respective ancestors of the Aeginetan Alcimedon, the Syracusan Hagesias, the Rhodian Diagoras, and the Cyrenean Arcesilaus. All these representations are to a greater or lesser extent innovative. We have seen that in all cases through parallelism, verbal echoes, or explicit association the ancestral paradigms foreshadow and illustrate the wisdom and achievements of the descendants either individually or collectively. Communication with Apollo is the ultimate test and proof of ancestral wisdom. Hagesias, Diagoras, and Arcesilaus are all said to possess ancestral wisdom. Only in the case of Battus and Arcesilaus, however, have we, thanks to Herodotus, adequate comparative evidence that allows us to assess Pindar’s strategy in creating ancestral intellectual superiority. In his communication with the Pythia the Herodotean Battus does not show any particular wisdom or intelligence. The founder of Cyrene is represented as a rather common man who succeeds in his mission after a series of trials and errors. In Pindar’s hands the same information undergoes such a deep transformation that the picture is reversed. Battus’ communication with the Pythia and Apollo becomes a token of divine favor and wisdom which lives on in Arcesilaus. To be sure Pindar’s emphasis on wisdom as a prerogative of aristocratic identity is neither new nor unparalleled. The poetry of Theognis shows a similar stress on the intellectual and moral foundation of aristocratic superiority.83 For Walter Donlan the shift of focus from display of external possessions to the inner qualities of the spirit such as superior sensibility, wisdom, grace and moral superiority constitutes an effort on the part of aristocracy to construct a model which would be “immune to discredit—or imitation.”84 What is novel about Pindar is the use of Apolline prophecy as part of aristocratic image-making. The main advantage of Apolline prophecy, if properly constructed, is that it offers the most authoritative means of linking the present to the past. Moreover, fifthcentury depictions of the increasingly challenging communication with the god of Delphi were probably another reason for Pindar’s inclusion of Apolline 82

Calame 2003: 86. Donlan 77–95. 84 Donlan 77. 83

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

443

prophecy in his ideological arsenal.85 Exactly because communication with Apollo was thought to be fraught with difficulty, the ancestral privilege of the god’s company, clear guidance, and support was all the more exclusive. In an ideological system where intellectual and other qualities as well as honors and privileges pass on from generation to generation, such depictions constitute authoritative accounts of the survival of ancestral intellectual qualities and privileges.86 The most succinct formulation of the exclusive privilege of the god’s presence, however, belongs not to Pindar, but to Callimachus in his Hymn to Apollo (9–10): ÑVpÒllvn oÈ pant‹ fa¤netai, éllÉ ˜ tiw §sylÒw: ˜w min ‡d˙, m°gaw otow: ˘w oÈk ‡de, litÚw §ke›now. Apollo does not appear to everybody, but only to the noble; he who may see the god is great; he who has not seen the god is insignificant. The immediate reference of this statement is to the imminent epiphany of Apollo to the performance which is represented as being in progress, but it also anticipates Apollo’s appearance in the form of a raven to Battus and his guidance of the founder and his people to Libya (76–78), which occupies a great part of the hymn. Among recent critics Peter Rose’s assessment of Pindar’s creations of singular and utopic privileges for his patrons is, in my view, the most eloquent and pertinent:

85

Bacchylides does not show the same predilection for prophecy as Pindar, though in his account of Croesus (c. 3) he emphasizes Apollo’s favor for the Lydian king and attributes his rescue to the god’s favor (whereas Herodotus 1.86–87 reports the story, but gives more weight to the human factor). 86 Slater attributes to the choral poets and above all to Pindar a new definition of aristocracy, which is based on the knowledge of ta kala and the power to achieve them. According to Slater ta kala is a category with a wide spectrum and is, therefore, impossible to define, but it represents an “inborn code of values.” Aristocrats, Slater suggested, “simply know some things other people do not, and with an absolute confidence that others cannot have. That is what strikes me as revolutionary about Pindar; it is what is in one’s head that really counts, not boule or arete or ploutos” (Slater 1997: 48).

444

L. ATHANASSAKI The inner logic of Pythian 10 leads both to the fervent realization of aristocratic ideology in image, structure, argument, and to the transcendent negation of that ideology in its celebration and demonstration of the poet’s mastery of access to a realm of being free of pain and guilt, full of sensuous gratification, and quite beyond the limited reality of the Greek ruling class. Indeed, it is in the end a moot point whether the net effect of the poem is more a celebration of their power or his.87

The Tenth Pythian was Rose’s test-case, but I think his conclusions offer the best illustration of Pindar’s representation of the utopic relations between aristocrats and Apollo that I have named Apolline pas de deux. ii.3 THE THEBAN ORESTEIA I have left to last Pindar’s version of the story of Orestes in the Eleventh Pythian, for unlike all my other instances there is no ancestral link between the laudandus Thrasydaeus and Orestes. Gildersleeve’s assessment of the interpretative problems of the ode in 1885 has proven emblematic of subsequent scholarship: In most of the odes the meaning of the myth, its office as an incorporation of the thought can, at least, be divined. Here the uncertainty of the date and the unusual character of the story combine to baffle historical interpretation.88 The questionable suitability of a story of multiple murders to enhance the achievement of the victor is to this day an issue of scholarly debate.89 The other important question concerns the date of composition of the ode and its possible 87

Rose 182–83, whose neo-Marxist approach offers an analysis of the epinician form along the lines of a negative and positive hermeneutic. The negative hermeneutic explores the aspects of the text that reflect and reinforce aristocratic claims, whereas the positive hermeneutic examines those aspects that show the inadequacy of the status quo and the superiority of the poet and his poetry. 88 Gildersleeve 358. 89 For the Oresteia as a negative example see in particular Young 1968 with a review of previous scholarship; for the Oresteia as a positive example see in particular Robbins 1986; Egan has put forward the view that the pedagogue’s story of Orestes’ Pythian victories in Sophocles, Electra (680–783) was an established tradition known to Pindar as well; according to this reading the relevance of Orestes to Thrasydaeus is they are both Pythian victors. The question that this interpretation leaves unanswered is why Pindar did not choose to tell this story or even allude to it. For the mythical narrative as a blend of blame and praise see Calame 2000: 95–115.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

445

relationship to Aeschylus’ Oresteia.90 I will address both issues, but I will focus on an aspect that has been relatively unexplored in discussions of the relevance of the mythological exemplum, namely the double encomiastic motivation of the performance.91 I will argue that the Eleventh Pythian was composed to celebrate an athletic victory at a Theban festival in honor of Apollo. 92 In light of the double celebratory occasion, I will examine the relevance of the Pindaric version of the Oresteia for the celebration of the god, in whose honor the chorus also dance, and for the audience of the performance, which in this case was, in all likelihood, the whole city. 90

In favor of 474: Von der Mühl on the basis of internal criteria, namely the victories attributed to the honorand and his family; on the basis of political criteria see the arguments of Wilamowitz 1922: 259–63; Gentili 147–50; Robbins 1986 and very recently Finglass. In favor of 454 mainly on the basis of political criteria see Bowra 1936; in favor of Aeschylean influence on the basis of literary criteria see especially Düring 1943; further arguments are adduced by Herington 1984 and Hubbard 1990. 91 Angeli Bernardini and Sevieri, both thinking that the performance-context was the Daphnephoria, have both drawn attention to the double encomiastic program of the ode; see also next note. For Angeli Bernardini the relevance of the mythical exemplum for the praise of Apollo consists in the grandeur of Delphi as centre of xenia and link between Thebes and Sparta. This thesis has been developed and modified by Sevieri, who argued that Apollo in his function as a god of initiation is praised for guaranteeing civic order. I certainly agree with Sevieri’s conclusion; for the suggestion of Apollo as a god of civic values see also Neschke on the basis of the opposite arguments. Sevieri’s argumentation is based on (a) reading the Oresteia as a positive example, arguing that Pindar did not perceive Orestes so much as a matricide, but as a restorer of his paternal oikos and (b) on the premise that Pindar alludes to Apollo’s command. Since similar views and arguments have been put forward by other scholars as well, I will address them in the course of my discussion. It will suffice for the moment to say that I agree with Sevieri that scholarly interpretation of Pythian 11 is influenced one way or another by the Aeschylean Oresteia, but I will add that the same is true for the reconstruction of Apollo’s role in Stesichorus’ Oresteia; for, if the Aeschylean Oresteia had not survived, we would not be able to postulate in Stesichorus’ Oresteia Apollo’s instigation or sanction of matricide on the basis of the bow he gives Orestes to defend himself against the Erinyes. As is clear from Olympian 7, the fact that Apollo purifies Tlepolemus and designates him oecist of Rhodes does not mean that he sanctions, let alone instigates, the murder he has committed. 92 Angeli Bernandini following Boekch has suggested the enneateric Daphnephoria. Schachter 102 raised the possibility that the Daphnephoria “was only one part of an extended springtime festival in honor of Apollo.” Against the Daphnephoria as the performance context of the ode see now Finglass 27–32. Calame 2000: 100 leans towards an annual festival as the performance context of the ode.

446

L. ATHANASSAKI

The opening invocation of Semele, Ino, Alcmena, and Melia to gather at the Ismenion in order to sing of holy Themis, Pytho, and the right-judging navel of the earth indicates that the occasion of the performance of the Eleventh Pythian was a festival in honor of Apollo. The setting of the performance, the imaginary chorus of the local heroines, the Theban origin of the laudator, the laudandi and the actual performers give this ode a distinct Theban flavor. In this exclusively Theban context the voices of the actual and imaginary choruses merge in a way that makes it impossible to distinguish the narrative boundaries between the hymn to Delphi and the Oresteia (1–45): Kãdmou kÒrai, Sem°la m¢n ÉOlumpiãdvn éguiçti, ÉIn∆ d¢ Leukoy°a pontiçn ımoyãlame Nhrh¤dvn, ‡te sÁn ÑHrakl°ow éristogÒnƒ matr‹ pår Mel¤an xrus°vn §w êduton tripÒdvn yhsaurÒn, ˘n per¤allÉ §t¤mase Loj¤aw, ÉIsmÆnion dÉ ÙnÊmajen, élay°a mant¤vn y«kon, Œ pa›dew ÑArmon¤aw, ¶nya ka¤ nun §p¤nomon ≤rv¤dvn stratÚn ımager°a kale› sun¤men, ˆfra Y°min flerån Puy«nã te ka‹ Ùryod¤kan gçw ÙmfalÚn keladÆsetÉ êkr& sÁn •sp°r& •ptapÊloisi YÆbaiw xãrin ég«n¤ te K¤rraw, §n t“ Yrasuda›ow ¶mnasen •st¤an tr¤ton ¶pi st°fanon patr–an bal≈n, §n éfnea›w éroÊraisi Pulãda nik«n j°nou Lãkvnow ÉOr°sta. tÚn dØ foneuom°nou patrÚw ÉArsinÒa KlutaimÆstraw xeir«n Ïpo kraterçn §k dÒlou trofÚw ênele duspeny°ow, ıpÒte Dardan¤da kÒran Priãmou Kassãndran poli“ xalk“ sÁn ÉAgamemnon¤& cuxò pÒreuÉ ÉAx°rontow éktån parÉ eÎskion nhlØw gunã. pÒterÒn nin êrÉ ÉIfig°neiÉ §pÉ EÈr¤pƒ

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

447

sfaxye›sa t∞le pãtraw ¶knisen barupãlamon ˆrsai xÒlon; µ •t°rƒ l°xei damazom°nan ¶nnuxoi pãragon ko›tai; tÚ d¢ n°aiw élÒxoiw ¶xyiston émplãkion kalÊcai tÉ émãxanon éllotr¤aisi gl≈ssaiw: kakolÒgoi d¢ pol›tai. ‡sxei te går ˆlbow oÈ me¤ona fyÒnon: ı d¢ xamhlå pn°vn êfanton br°mei. yãnen m¢n aÈtÚw ¥rvw ÉAtre¤daw ·kvn xrÒnƒ kluta›w §n ÉAmÊklaiw, mãntin tÉ ˆlesse kÒran, §pe‹ émfÉ ÑEl°n& purvy°ntaw Tr≈vn ¶luse dÒmouw èbrÒtatow. ı dÉ êra g°ronta j°non Strof¤on §j¤keto, n°a kefalã, ParnassoË pÒda na¤ontÉ: éllå xron¤ƒ sÁn ÖArei p°fnen te mat°ra y∞k° te A‡gisyon §n fona›w. ∑rÉ, Œ f¤loi, katÉ émeus¤poron tr¤odon §dinãyhn, Ùryån k°leuyon fi∆n tÚ pr¤n: ≥ m° tiw ênemow ¶jv plÒou ¶balen, …w ˜tÉ êkaton §nnal¤an; Mo›sa, tÚ d¢ teÒn, efi misyo›o sun°yeu par°xein fvnån Ípãrguron, êllotÉ êll& {xrØ} tarass°men µ patr‹ Puyon¤kƒ tÒ g° nun µ Yrasudñƒ, t«n eÈfrosÊna te ka‹ dÒjÉ §pifl°gei.

Daughters of Cadmus, you, Semele, dwelling among the Olympian goddesses and you, Ino Leucothea, sharing the chambers of Nereus’ sea daughters, go with the mother of Heracles, who gave birth to the noblest child, and join Melia at the treasury of the golden tripods, the sanctuary which Loxias particularly honored and named it Ismenion, the true seat of seers; O daughters of Harmonia, there he now summons the native host of heroines to gather together, so that you sing holy Themis, Pytho, and the

448

L. ATHANASSAKI right-judging center of the earth at nightfall in honor of seven-gated Thebes and the contest of Cirrha, where Thrasydaeus caused his ancestral hearth to be remembered, when he cast upon it a third crown, by his victory in the rich fields of Pylades, the host of Laconian Orestes. Whom indeed, at the slaughter of his father, his nurse Arsinoe took away from the powerful hands of Clytemnestra and from her grievous treachery, when by means of gray bronze she let Cassandra, the daughter of Dardanian Priam, go along with the soul of Agamemnon to the shadowy shore of Acheron, the pitiless woman. Was it then Iphigeneia, slaughtered at Euripus far from home, who incited her to rouse her heavy-handed anger? Or did nightly love-making lead her astray as she was overcome by another man’s bed? This fault is most hateful in young wives and impossible to cover up because of others’ tongues; and fellow citizens are slanderous; moreover, because prosperity brings with it equal envy; whereas whoever has low aspirations murmurs unnoticed. The hero son of Atreus died himself, when he came at last to famous Amyclae, and ruined the prophetess, after he plundered all luxury from the homes of the Trojans, set on fire for the sake of Helen. The young boy, on the other hand, went to his aged guest-friend Strophius, who lived at the foot of Parnassus; but with the help of Ares in due course he killed his mother and laid Aegisthus in a stream of blood. It seems, my friends, that I roamed about at the path-shifting crossroad, being on the right track before; or did some wind throw me off my sailing course, like a small boat at sea? Muse, it is your duty, if you have agreed to hire your voice for silver, to set it in motion this way and that, either in honor now of the father Pythonicus or of Thrasydaeus,
whose joy and fame keep blazing.

In the introductory frame subject matter and narrative strategy work in tandem to foreground the Theban identity of the imaginary chorus and the setting of the performance as well as Apollo’s presence in the celebration. In the first strophe, the request to the Theban heroines to gather at the Ismenion is first made in the name of the speaker (1–7), but in the antistrophe it becomes clear that the speaker has just expressed Apollo’s request (7–10). The summons to the Ismenion first expressed in the speaker’s and then in Apollo’s name is complemented by a final clause (9–12) that reveals the purpose of the invitation, namely the celebration in song of Delphi in honor of Thebes and the Pythian games. The mention of the games is followed by a relative clause, in which Thrasydaeus’ victory receives brief mention, but the immediately following

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

449

prepositional locative phrase, which specifies the place of the victory, forms the basis for the introduction of the story of Orestes. Thus in the antistrophe the song of the imaginary Theban chorus merges imperceptibly with the actual song in progress in one long period. It is thus impossible to tell whether the story of Orestes is presented as the common subject of the imaginary and the actual singers or, if not, where the first song ends and the second begins. The admission to an unspecified group of friends of a digression and the subsequent reminder to the Muse to sing of the honorands, which frame the mythical narrative, signal the restoration of the epinician voice and can thus be markers only of the end of the song of the imaginary chorus. Such voice-merging is not an idiosyncracy of this ode, but an elsewhere attested choral device to tell the same story from a double perspective, thus reinforcing its authority.93 In this instance, the male performing chorus and the imaginary chorus of Theban heroines join voices to sing an authoritative version of the story of Orestes, in which Apollo plays no role. In the Pindaric version Orestes’ helper is not Apollo, but Ares. The qualification of the omphalos as Ùryod¤kaw
is part of a statement concerning the justice of Themis, Pytho and the navel of earth in general. An allusion to the right judgement of Apollo in the case of Orestes cannot be excluded, but, as Farnell observes, Pindar gives no clue as to the content of such a judgement: “there is no mention of Apollo, and he never lets us see what his own judgment was, and what Apollo’s judgment was, on the act of Orestes.”94 Apollo’s absence acquires greater significance from the identity of the god whom Pindar represents as Orestes’ helper in the murder of Clytemnestra and Aegisthus. In Pindar’s Oresteia it is the god of war and violence who is instrumental in the act of vengeance, not the god of prophecy and music. In addition to the questionable suitability of a story of matricide to enhance an athletic victory and the absence of an ancestral link between Thrasydaeus and Orestes that would account for the choice of topic, the absence of Apollo from it poses yet another question concerning its relevance. If Pindar had assigned the role of Orestes’ helper to Apollo and not to Ares, there would have been a basis for parallelism between Thrasydaeus and Orestes, since they would have both been under the aegis of Apollo for different reasons. But this is precisely the story that Pindar chose not to tell. David Young, who interpreted the Oresteia as a “brilliant and frightening foil” for the peaceful life of the 93

For Pindaric instances see Young 84 n. 2 and Athanassaki 1990: 128–34; for a similar device in Aeschylus see Athanassaki 1994. 94 Farnell 1932: 226 ad 9; see also Finglass 46 with n. 73.

450

L. ATHANASSAKI

honorand, has made the strongest case against any parallelism between Orestes and Thrasydaeus: “there is nothing in the myth which pertains to Thrasydaeus or to his kind.”95 According to Young the positive example for Thrasydaeus comes at the conclusion of the ode in the praise of the Tyndarids and Iolaus, who won renown mainly through athletic excellence, but also because of their devotion to their dear ones.96 I agree with Young that the Oresteia is a frightening foil, but I will argue in favor of a broader function of the mythological exemplum. I suggest that the combination of praise and blame does not simply aim at the assertion of the honorand’s peaceful lifestyle, but at the definition and promotion of a positive aristocratic model which is consistent with Apolline values. In my reading the attribution of all responsibility for violence to Ares serves as a contrasting paradigm to Apollo, who emerges as a god of justice, eunomia, and the joyous pursuits of peaceful life.97 The double celebratory program of the composition and performance of the Eleventh Pythian suggests that on this particular occasion Apollo was also an honorand of equal, if not greater importance. On account of its double occasion, therefore, the Eleventh Pythian invites comparison with epinicians that have a double encomiastic program, namely the celebration of an athletic victory on the occasion of a religious festival.98 Three of these odes will serve as comparative material, the Third and Fourteenth Olympians and the Fifth Pythian.99 The Third Olympian in honor of Theron’s victory was probably composed for celebration at the Theoxenia of the Tyndarids.100 Athletics and xenia are the themes that pervade the encomiastic and the mythological parts of the ode and link them together.101 Thus the hospitable reception of Heracles by 95

Young 17. Young 22; for the Dioscuri as a positive example see among others Newman 60– 63; Calame 2000: 108–10. 97 For the use of Apolline values as a civic paradigm by Aristophanes in the Knights see the stimulating discussion of Sfyroeras in this volume. 98 For the dynamics of genre and occasion see Nagy 1994. For the fluidity of genres composed for performance in cultic contexts see Calame in this volume. 99 Krummen 33–97 has argued that the performance context of the Fourth Isthmian was the Theban Heraclea. 100 See Krummen 223–36 with a review of previous scholarship. 101 For the importance of the theme of xenia in the mythical exemplum and the encomium see Shelmerdine 79, who, following Fraenkel, does not think that the context of the performance is the Theoxenia, but suggests instead that “By dedicating his song to the Tyndaridae, and by linking Theron’s victory so closely with them, Pindar makes in effect the present victory feast itself a theoxenia, a feast at which the gods are present and being honored.” 96

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

451

the Hyperboreans reflects the xenia of Theron and the Acragantines to the Dioscuri.102 The olive tree which the Hyperboreans give to Heracles finds a contemporary parallel in the olive crown that Theron wins: this he does thanks to the favor of the Tyndarids, who are represented as Heracles’ successors in supervising the Olympic games after his apotheosis (34–41). Pindar is the only ancient authority to attribute such a status to the Dioscuri and, in all likelihood, his claim is due to the double occasion of the celebration.103 Human and divine honorands are equally glorified. Theron, who receives the olive crown from the Dioscuri at Olympia, reciprocates their xenia at Acragas.104 The olive crown, originally a gift of the Hyperboreans to their guest Heracles, links together not only Theron with the Dioscuri, but the Dioscuri with Heracles, for appointing them overseers of the games in his stead, Heracles passes on to them jurisdiction over the olive crown. The Fourteenth Olympian, known also as the Hymn to the Graces, displays a similar pattern. The brief ode, composed in honor of Asopichus’ victory in the foot-race, was composed for performance in the sanctuary of the Graces and Johannes Kakridis has plausibly suggested that the celebratory context was a festival in honor of the deities of Orchomenos.105 Of the two strophes of the ode, the first is exclusively dedicated to the aretalogy of the Graces, who are represented as indispensable stewards of choral performances and feasts on Olympus, on this particular occasion thus overshadowing the Muses. The second strophe consists of a description of the performance in progress, a request to the deities for its success, and a brief praise of the victor. The hymnic form of this ode points to a double celebratory purpose, but the predominance of the hymnic element does not detract from the glorification of the victory it celebrates. The choral celebration of the victor in the presence of the Graces in the hic et nunc is the human analogue of eternal choral celebrations on Olympus in honor of Zeus.106 Apollo and Arcesilaus are the divine and human honorands of the Fifth Pythian, composed for performance probably at the Cyrenean Carneia.107 Apollo’s aretalogy in this ode is representative of Pindaric encomia of the god in 102

Krummen 255–57 suggested that the Hyperborean symposia constitute the ideal paradigm for human symposia. 103 Farnell 1961: 29 ad 36. 104 Shelmerdine 79. 105 Kakridis 144–46. 106 Athanassaki 2003a. 107 For the Carneia as the occasion of performance see the reservations of Burton 135–37. For a strong argument in favor of the Carneia see especially Krummen 108–16.

452

L. ATHANASSAKI

his festivals and will be discussed in more detail later on. It will suffice for the moment to draw attention to an important difference between the Fifth and the Eleventh Pythian, which is due to the social status of the honorands. The Fifth Pythian was composed to celebrate the victory of a king, the glory of his dynasty, and the foundation of the city.108 The Eleventh Pythian was composed to celebrate the victories of a family that belonged to the Theban elite. In the case of Arcesilaus, as in the case of Theron, Pindar’s emphasis is clearly on the divine favor to the honorands, for in the case of absolute rulers there was no need to reintegrate them into the community.109 The belief in the divine origin of royal power, which Pindar extends to tyrants as well, gave the poet the freedom to focus on the gods’ many favors to the monarch, which was by extension beneficial to the whole community. In contrast, the epinician challenge to reintegrate aristocrats who were not rulers into their peer group necessitated resort to different strategies in the representation of divine favor. We have seen that in the Fourteenth Olympian the Graces are asked to grant success to the choral performance in honor of Asopichus. The singers request the favor of the deities, in whose honor they dance, as a group and they hope to please them in turn as a group. The identity of the honorands affects inevitably the configuration of human and divine relations. I will argue that in the Eleventh Pythian the Theban chorus worship and hope to please Apollo in a spirit similar to that of the chorus in the Fourteenth Olympian. Before turning to the dynamics of the relationship between Apollo and the Theban chorus in the Eleventh Pythian, however, I will discuss Pindar’s representation of Apollo in relation with the literary tradition. Unlike the stories of Oedipus and Neoptolemus, the story of Orestes raises not the issue of human and divine antagonism, but the issue of Apolline justice, as is evident from Aeschylus’ magisterial treatment in the Eumenides. If Pindar composed the Eleventh Pythian under the influence of the Aeschylean masterpiece, the reasons for his dissociation of Apollo from Orestes’ matricide would be clear. In the Eumenides Apollo does not have the power to protect Orestes from the Erinyes 108

57.

109

For the political motivation of the heroic elevation of Arcesilaus see Currie 256–

In the long run, however, the profile of absolute rulers had to have some affinities with the aristocratic profile so as to appeal to a Panhellenic audience. For the different strategies employed by Pindar in the praise of absolute rulers see Kurke 218–24. For Pindaric strategies of reintegrating the elite see the detailed discussions of Crotty 104–38 and Kurke 1991: 35–61, 163–224 and passim. Currie’s recent study of Pindar’s intimations to certain athletes of immortalization during their lifetime shows the other side of the coin, i.e. the epinician attempts to single out the honorand.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

453

and instructs him to go to Athens (79–84), where the god also goes and appears before a human court in order to defend Orestes, but primarily his own justice.110 Seriously challenged by the Erinyes, Apollo and Orestes win by the narrowest possible margin thanks to Athena.111 The fact that the Erinyes are not entirely defeated either, but are honored by the patron-goddess of Athens, is sufficient indication of the weakness of Apollo’s position.112 The challenge of Apolline power and justice on the Athenian stage has been succinctly formulated by Albin Lesky: Eben dadurch, daß der Gott von Delphi, der in älterer Fassung selbst binden und lösen konnte, keinen anderen Weg kennt als den nach Athen, daß er selbst, der Gott, vor den Menschen erscheint, weil mit dem Recht durch Athene Göttliches in ihre Hand gelegt wurde, erhält der Schluß der Trilogie jene Erhabenheit, die den Zankton der Gerichtsszene vergessen läßt und zu jener Apotheose attischer Rechtssprechung führt, die dem Athener Aischylos vor der Seele stand, als er das letzte der drei Dramen schrieb. Seinen Gehalt können wir Nachgeborene nie ganz ausschöpfen, aber ahnen können wir es noch, was der Weg von Delphi nach Athen der Zeit des Aischylos bedeuten mußte. Wohl sollen wir uns alle die Unstimmigkeiten vor Augen halten, die die Doppellösung in den Eumeniden brachte, aber doch nur, um zu verstehen, daß so erst jene Szene möglich wird, die den Gott von Delphi vor der ehrwürdigsten Gerichtsstätte der Athener erscheinen läßt. Für diese Auffassung hebt sich auch der alte Streit, ob Aischylos an Apollon Kritik üben wollte oder nicht. Das Recht liegt auf beiden Seiten: tadeln konnte Aischylos den Gott nicht wollen, von dem er selbst sagt, daß Zeus aus ihm spreche. Aber genügen 110

In ll. 198–200 the Erinyes accuse Apollo as solely, not partially, responsible for the matricide (oÈ meta¤tiow, . . ., éll' . . . pana¤tiow).
Orestes, on the other hand, admits to shared responsibility with Apollo at 465–67; see also 593–96 and 609–13. Apollo accepts responsibility in 579–80, but he adds in his defense that he always prophesies according to Zeus’ will; see 614–21. In 715–16 the Erinyes characterize Apollo’s oracles as unholy. 111 In Bierl’s characterisation of Apollo (87) the god is seen “as the pettifogging lawyer who represents only one party.” Sommerstein 184 on Apollo’s defense: “An audience most of whom, if over the age of 30, had personal experience of jury service will have recognized in Apollo’s speech most of the tricks of a pleader with a bad case.” For Athena as Orestes’ true healer and Apollo’s inability to play this role see Finley 277. 112 See 794–96 where Athena’s reassures the Erinyes that the split vote means that they are not defeated.

454

L. ATHANASSAKI konnte ihm der Gott auch nicht mehr, der mit Tierblut Mord sühnte, und so läßt er denn Apollon selbst den Weg über sich hinaus weisen, den auch sein eigenes Denken ging: vom starren Ritus zum heiligen Recht.113

If Pindar composed the Eleventh Pythian in the knowledge of Aeschylus’ Oresteia, his representation of Apollo must be considered the Theban response to the Athenian challenge. To Aeschylus’ litigant and negotiating god Pindar opposes a distant and serene Apollo who presides over the right-judging navel of the earth and the festivities in Thebes. Even if the Eleventh Pythian is pre-Aeschylean, however, Apollo’s absence is significant, because his involvement was already part of the literary and possibly the iconographic tradition.114 The Homeric account in the Odyssey, a Hesiodic fragment (23a M–W) and the few surviving fragments of Stesichorus’ Oresteia are our earlier extant sources which bear witnesses to divergent traditions.115 In the Odyssey Orestes’ avenging of his father is an honorable and predicted act, as is clear from Zeus’ reminder to the other gods (1.32–43), but there is no divine encouragement for it, nor any consequence. Of Stesichorus’ Oresteia very little survives, but enough to indicate Apollo’s intervention and his antagonism towards the Erinyes. A papyrus commentary of the 2nd century A.D. has preserved a tiny fragment of Apollo’s speech to Orestes, in which the god tells the hero that he will give him his bow in order to defend himself against the Erinyes (fr. 217). The commentator attributes to Stesichorean influence Euripides’ use of the same theme and Aeschylus’ use of the lock of hair in the recognition scene between Orestes and Electra. According to the ancient commentator the influence of Stesichorus on later poets was second only to that of Homer and Hesiod. Ada Neschke, in her survey of pre-Aeschylean versions of the story of Orestes, reaches the conclusion that the most important innovation of Stesichorus, which later exercised great influence on the tragedians, was Apollo’s dominant role. Neschke also lays emphasis on the significance of Ares’ substitution for Apollo in the Eleventh Pythian and detects an implicit criticism of the 113

Lesky 211; contra Defradas 1972: 181–88, who following Wilamowitz 1896 saw a strong Delphic influence on Aeschylus’ Oresteia. 114 Orestes’ flight from the Furies was the subject of the “Hero and the Snake” metope (570–550 B.C.) from Foce del Sele; see Prag 44 who also suggested tentatively that Apollo and the Furies may have been the subject on the Rum Jug painter’s protoattic crater (Prag 85). For a different identification of the figures on the crater see Davies. 115 For the pre-Pindar and pre-Aeschylean versions see Defradas 1972: 160–76; Neschke; Robbins 1986.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

455

Stesichorean version on Pindar’s part.116 Her view is plausible in light of the great influence of Stesichorus and of the difference in the representation of Apollo by the two poets, in so far, of course, as the fragmentary condition of Stesichorean poetry allows us to judge. We have seen that Stesichorus’ depiction of Apollo in the Lille fragment is much closer to Aeschylus than to Pindar. Did Pindar have only Stesichorus in mind or a growing body of poetry featuring Apollo as a major player? Wilamowitz, for instance, postulated a now-lost Delphic epic Oresteia, in which the god played a major role.117 Wilamowitz, however, took
 the reference to the right-judging omphalos as an allusion to Apollo’s sanction of the matricide. The obvious difficulty with Wilamowitz’s view is that Pindar would have been far more articulate, if he had wished to play up the god’s role, as is evident from his other representations of the god. If the Eleventh Pythian was a response to versions that foregrounded Apollo, it was undoubtedly a tacit revision. The invitation to Theban heroines to celebrate the god and not to the Muses and Graces, who ordinarily accompany the poet, points up the Theban provenance of the ode and may indicate Pindar’s departure from traditions of Stesichorean influence. In 474, if we accept the high date for the composition of the ode, Pindar was a renowned Panhellenic poet. It is no wonder that on the occasion of a celebration of Apollo in Thebes he decided to try his hand at a story that Homer, Stesichorus, and other poets had sung and which would prove fascinating for all the tragedians as well. Orestes was also the subject of one of Corinna’s poems (fr. 690), but the few preserved verses do not allow us to see how she handled the tale.118 In any event, we have seen that the Stesichorean version had already sown the seeds for the eventual challenge of Apolline justice on the Athenian stage. In celebrating the god, Pindar’s main concern was to reinstate Apolline justice, as the transference of responsibility to Ares indicates. Before turning to the religious and ideological considerations that underlie Pindar’s substitution of Apollo for Ares, I will explore the range of complexities that divine intervention presented in this particular case.

116

Neschke 294–95. Wilamowitz 1896: 24–26 and 246–56. Athenaeus 12.512f. mentions a now lost Oresteia by Xanthus. For the hypothesis of a growing body of literature see Defradas 1972: 173–81. 118 See also Finglass 32–34. The ancient view that Corinna was an older contemporary of Pindar has been challenged by a number of modern scholars who have argued in favor of a lower Hellenistic date. In favor of the fourth century see Schachter’s 2005 recent essay with references to previous scholarship. 117

456

L. ATHANASSAKI

In the present status of the evidence the definitely earlier Homeric account and the possibly later Aeschylean drama represent opposite ends of the spectrum concerning the implications of divine intervention. Aeschylus brought Apollo’s involvement to its natural and extreme consequences: a human court is invited to judge Orestes who obeyed the god’s dreadful command. The defendant in the Areopagus is nominally Orestes, but essentially it is Apollo who commanded the act. In the course of defending his command Apollo presents various arguments, but the split vote indicates that the god has been marginally successful in convincing the Athenian jury. If Pindar composed the Eleventh Pythian in 474, he may not have thought of the extreme scenario of bringing the god to court, but it is reasonable to assume that he must have pondered the implications of such a horrendous command for Apolline justice. The issue of divine responsibility in connection with Orestes’ vengeance is already raised by Zeus in the Odyssey. Commenting on the tendency of mortals to blame gods for their misfortunes (oÂon dÆ nu yeoÁw broto‹ afitiÒvntai, / §j ≤m°vn gãr fasi kãkÉ ¶mmenai,
1.32–33),
Zeus uses the example of Aegisthus to prove that human accusations are unjustified on the grounds it is their own reckless acts that cause excessive suffering. The gods sent Hermes to warn Aegisthus not to kill Agememnon, nor to woo Clytemnestra, for Orestes would exact vengeance. But despite Hermes’ good intentions, Aegisthus did not heed his warning and paid full price for his act (33–43). Hermes’ warning is the only divine intervention in the story of Orestes in the Odyssey and is made in order to avert disaster. What the Homeric and the Aeschylean versions have in common, despite their great differences, is the idea that mortals are judges of gods. From Homer ownward the Atreid saga acquired new and fascinating dimensions, as is evident from the Stesichorean fragments, but it is fair to assume that mortals as judges of divine plans and acts loomed in the background or the foreground of the various tales of the matricide. It is for this reason, I believe, that in the Eleventh Pythian Pindar kept Apollo far from human judgement. The transference of responsibility from Apollo to Ares gives the story a different turn, which is at once un-Homeric and un-Stesichorean. Pindar’s Orestes is neither a noble avenger, nor Apollo’s protegé.119 He is an agent of violence in exactly the same way that his mother and father were in a world where Ares rules sovereign. Although Ares is mentioned explicitly only once as a companion of Orestes, he looms large throughout the narrative. Agamemnon is said to have brought death to Cassandra, but is also characterized as the foremost 119

See however Robbins 1986: 2–5 who argued in favor of strong Homeric influence on Pindar; similarly Sevieri; contra Neschke 291–95.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

457

agent of the destruction of Troy (33–34). Pindar makes no explicit mention of Ares with regard to the destruction of Troy in this ode, but a parallel passage in the Fifth Pythian shows that he associates the sack of Troy chiefly with Ares (kapnvye›san pãtran §pe‹ ‡don §n ÖArei,
84–85).
Iphigeneia’s slaughter, which Pindar considers a possible motive for Clytemnestra’s revenge, is also an act necessitated by war. Pindar’s Oresteia is a tale of war and violence with no attempt to justify violence and its agents.120 As a story of the unmediated sovereignty of Ares, Pindar’s Oresteia is a foil for the values that Apollo stands for. The invitation to the Theban heroines to celebrate holy Themis, Pytho, and the right-judging omphalos is not to be understood, in my view, as a cryptic reference to Apollo’s horrendous command, but as a variation on his aretalogy as it is sung in a number of odes. Apollo’s aretalogy in the Fifth Pythian, composed like the Eleventh Pythian for another festival of the god, offers a representative example (63–69): ˘ ka‹ bareiçn nÒsvn ék°smatÉ êndressi ka‹ gunaij‹ n°mei, pÒren te k¤yarin, d¤dvs¤ te Mo›san oÂw ín §y°l˙, épÒlemon égag≈n §w prap¤daw eÈnom¤an, muxÒn tÉ émf°pei mantÆion:
 
 He also dispenses remedies for serious illnesses to men and women, he has provided the cithara and bestows the Muse on whomever he wants, he has put to people’s mind good governance without war, and he rules over the oracular recess.

120

Newman 1979: 60 “The Atreidae are presented as a family which brought ruin both upon itself and upon a last representative of the city of Priam. Few characters depicted in the myth are admirable. This is clearly true of Clytaemnestra and Agamemnon. But we cannot forget either that the last word of the whole story which begins with blood involves Orestes too in the web of bloody destruction.”

458

L. ATHANASSAKI

Apollo is praised as healer, god of music, guardian of the oracular shrine, and dispenser of eunomia in time of peace.121 In associating eunomia with peace Pindar follows Hesiod, who makes Eunomia, Dike, and Eirene daughters of Themis (Th. 901 ff.).122 The association of Apollo with eunomia in the Fifth Pythian and the association of Eunomia with Themis, Peace and Justice in the Thirteenth Olympian are clearly resonant of the aretalogy the Theban heroines are asked to sing. Similarly, in the First Paean, composed for performance in one of Apollo’s festivals in Thebes, Pindar also associates Apollo with the daughters of Themis, who are said to have come to Thebes to offer Apollo a banquet.123 The paean concludes with the singers’ wish that god may continue to crown the citizens with the flowers of eunomia (ênyesin eÈnom¤aw,
10). The Fifth Pythian and the First Paean, composed for performance in festivals in honor of Apollo, celebrate the god as dispenser of peace, eunomia, and justice and chime with not only the proem of the Eleventh Pythian, but also the epinician speaker’s statement in the concluding triad. When, after the praise of the athletic victories of Thrasydaeus and his father, the epinician singers blame tyranny and praise the middle condition as a guarantee of more enduring prosperity, they essentially praise peace and eunomia, which represent the Apolline ideal (52–53). The theme of praise and blame continues in the following antistrophe, but the text is too corrupt to permit certainty (55–56).124 If the heavily emended text, however, is close to what Pindar wrote, the positive model of high distinction is associated with peace and avoidance of hybris (52–58):

121

The hymnic quality has been noticed by a number of scholars. See, for instance, Krummen 1990: 139–40 and 145–46; Currie 227; Burton 145–46 drew attention to the aristocratic tenor of the civic model that these verses project. 122 For Pindar’s adoption of the Hesiodic genealogy see especially Olympian 3.6–10; also Olympian 9.15–16. 123 Rutherford 255: “The Horae seem to have a double significance: on the one hand characterized in a Hesiodic fashion [. . .] they are linked to the idea of political order [. . .] and they continue the theme of peace and stability. On the other hand, the presence of Eniautos, which is unprecedented, suggests that they should be seen as literal ‘seasons’ of the year.” 124 The alternative rendering, adopted by Turyn and others, gives a pessimistic sense: juna›si dÉ émfÉ éreta›w t°tamai: fyonero‹ dÉ émÊnontai / êt&: t¤w êkron •l∆n / ≤suxò te nemÒmenow afinån Ïbrin / ép°fugen;
The implication of the rhetorical question is that those who have reached the peak cannot avoid the insolence of the envious, even if themselves opt for hesychia; differently Newman 1982: 193 for whom the rhetorical question need not expect a negative answer.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

459

yeÒyen §ra¤man kal«n, dunatå maiÒmenow §n èlik¤&. t«n går énå pÒlin eÍr¤skvn tå m°sa makrot°rƒ {sÁn} ˆlbƒ teyalÒta, m°mfomÉ a‰san turann¤dvn: juna›si dÉ émfÉ éreta›w t°tamai: fyonero‹ dÉ émÊnontai. e‡ tiw êkron •l∆n ≤suxò te nemÒmenow afinån Ïbrin ép°fugen, m°lanow {dÉ} ín §sxatiån kall¤ona yanãtou glukutãt& geneò eÈ≈numon kteãnvn krat¤stan xãrin por≈n: May I desire noble achievements that come from the gods seeking what is attainable for my age; for finding the middle condition in a city flourishing with more enduring prosperity, I blame the destiny of tyrannies. I strive for excellence in which all may share; for the envious are warded off. But if somebody has reached the peak, lives in peace and has avoided dreadful arrogance, he would walk on a better last path before black death, having provided for his sweetest offspring the grace of a good name, the greatest of possessions. Avoidance of hybris as a presupposition of eunomia and association of eunomia with Apollo is as old as Homer. In the Odyssey one of the suitors chastizes Antinous for striking the disguised Odysseus and warns him that the gods in various guises visit the cities of men and watch their hybris and eunomia (ényr≈pvn Ïbrin te ka‹ eÈnom¤hn §for«ntew,
 17.487). Upon hearing the incident Penelope expresses the wish that Apollo may strike Antinous in turn (a‡yÉ oÏtvw aÈtÒn se bãloi klutÒtojow ÉApÒllvn,
17.494)..Tyrtaeus also foregrounds Apollo as a dispenser of justice and civic order in a poem handed down under the title Eunomia (4 W).125 The epinician singers do not mention Apollo explicitly in the concluding triad, but the values they praise are certainly consistent with the representation of Apolline justice and eunomia in this and other odes. The epinician speaker’s condemnation of tyranny and hybris and his declared preference for the middle condition, shared values, and hesychia is an ideologically loaded statement, which may also be a reference to contemporary 125

For the political significance of Tyrtaeus’ elegy see Van Wees. For its performance context see Stehle 51–54.

460

L. ATHANASSAKI

politics. The question of political reference bears of course on the date of composition. Maurice Bowra, who argued in favor of composition in 454, interpreted the statement as condemnation of Athenian interference in Theban politics after the Athenian victory at Oenophyta in 457.126 Scholars who date the ode to 474 have seen an allusion to the oligarchy that seized power and exercised tyrannical rule in Thebes at the time of the battle of Plataea.127 In contrast, David Young interpreted the statement as a poetical topos with no reference to contemporary tyrannies or oligarchies, but intended simply to praise the lifestyle of the victor.128 I agree with Young that at Pindar’s time denunciation of tyranny and advocacy of the middle course was a topos. Yet the fact that the statement was a topos does not mean that it could not have political or ideological force. In contrast, its wide use is a proof of its political effectiveness, which, as we will see, depends on the ideological standpoint of the speaker and the context of the utterance.129 The precise political reference of the statement may be elusive, but we are on safer ground with regard to its ideological agenda. Pointing out the similarity of the choral statement to Theognis’ advice to Cyrnus (219–20, 331, 335–36), Burton has suggested that they both derive from the same aristocratic code that advocates the middle course and hesychia as a bulwark against the dangers of political faction.130 The aristocratic tenor of the statement is evident from the examples that Pindar uses to instantiate this ideal, namely the athletic achievements of Thrasydaeus and his family in the hic et nunc, which find expression in the athletic excellence of the Dioscuri and Iolaus in the mythological exemplum. If in ideological terms the example of the Tyndarids and Iolaus is a model of hesychia and peaceful activities, the house of Agamemnon is clearly not.131 The blame of tyranny may very well be a reference to contemporary events, but it is also a comment on the behavioral patterns of the members of the house of Agamemnon, whose story the chorus have just narrated. 126

Bowra 1936: 132–40. Thuc. 3.62.3. Note the Thucydidean speaker’s emphasis on the
 lack of eunomia and moderation of this tyrannical regime:
 ˜per d° §sti nÒmoiw m¢n ka‹ t“ svfronestãtƒ §nanti≈taton, §ggutãtv turãnnou.
 For Pindar’s allusion to the tyrannical power of this group see in particular Gentili 147–50; also Robbins 1986: 5–6. Cf. Finglass 17–18. 128 Young 11–15. For a similar view see more recently Instone 91–93. 129 On this point see also Gentili 149. 130 Burton 73; see also Bowra 1936: 138. 131 See Young 19–20 who argued that the advantages of the life of Thrasydaeus are first illustrated by presenting the disadvantages of its opposite. 127

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

461

In social terms the house of Agamemnon represents an aristocracy which has gone berserk as a result of war, autocratic ambition, internal strife, illicit love, and vengeance. The chorus narrate the story of the doomed family in a matter-of-fact manner, but it is significant that from beginning to end they focus on the evils that have befallen them without any reference to any successful accomplishments. Even the sack of Troy, Agamemnon’s success as leader of the Achaeans, is mentioned in relation to its human cost: the death of Cassandra and the destruction of Trojan houses. It is precisely this model that the chorus reject in favor of an alternative peaceful lifestyle that adheres to the middle condition, privileges civic prosperity, and values achievements in which the community at large can share. The anatomy of negative elite behavior and its rejection is, according to this reading, a foil for a sharp definition and public pronouncement of a positive and well-paralleled aristocratic model. Leslie Kurke has suggested that the rejection of tyranny and the declaration of preference for the middle course “is a clear message to the victor’s fellow citizens about his attitude: the family has no designs on rule within the city, despite its conspicuous expenditure on horse racing and athletics in general.”132 I agree with Kurke that the statement aims at the reintegration of the honorand in his community by quelling suspicions of tyrannical ambition. To be sure this is not the only instance of an outright assertion of the honorand’s peaceful civic attitude, but if we interpret the Oresteia as an aberrant civic model, it is by far the most elaborate and emphatic political statement. It is so emphatic that, viewed as one family’s message to their peers, it sounds rather defensive than reassuring. Moreover, this is the only instance that the assertion of the peaceful civic attitude of the honorand is expressed in the first person.133 The identity of the speaker of first-person epinician statements has been a notorious crux. With regard to the identity of the persona loquens scholars have argued in favor of the poet, the chorus, a composite voice including the poet and the chorus or, alternatively, a generalized first person expressing thoughts applicable to everybody, but often specifically to the victor.134 This is certainly 132

Kurke 1991: 216. Assertions of the honorand’s love for hesychia and avoidance of hybris in the third person are common; see for instance Olympian 4.15–16 (Psaumis); Olympian 7.90– 92 (Diagoras); Pythian 4.284–85 (Damophilus); Isthmian 3.1–3 expressed as a gnomic statement, but qualifying the lifestyle of the Melissos and his family, the Cleonymids; the same assertion is made in the third person in Isthmian 4.7–9 for the Cleonymids in general. See also the discussion in Kurke 1991: 195–218. 134 See in particular the discussions in Slater 1969; Lefkowitz 1991:1–71; D’Alessio; Nagy 1994; Carey 1995; Stehle 15–17. 133

462

L. ATHANASSAKI

not a problem that can find a straightforward universal solution. In this particular case, Kurke’s interpretation rests on the assumption that the first-person statement expresses the attitude of the victor and his oikos. In contrast, Wilamowitz, who interpreted the first-person statement as autobiographical, suggested that Pindar seized the opportunity to vindicate himself against charges of tyrannical sympathies on account of his praise of Sicilian potentates.135 In light of the communal occasion of the performance and the Theban identity of poet, honorands, chorus, and audience I wish to explore the possibility of a composite voice expressing views that the chorus and the poet shared as members of the Theban aristocracy. We can only speculate about the identity of the members of the chorus and the audience of the performance. I presume that on this particular occasion the poet and the honorand led a chorus consisting of friends and relatives of the victor, who belonged to the elite. In light of the double celebratory occasion of the performance it is fair to assume a wide Theban audience and possibly worshippers from other Boeotian towns.136 The fact that the poet, the honorands, and presumably the performing chorus all belonged to the Theban aristocracy provided an ideal opportunity for public display of aristocratic solidarity through definition of the political code they shared. Eva Stehle defines community performance as follows: The notion of community performance as providing reflection and model means that community performers speak both for and to the audience and community at large: for the community as reflectors of its beliefs and to it as models for renewed affirmation of those beliefs.137 Did the chorus speak on behalf of the community at large in this particular instance? As with all political discourse we have to allow room for dissent, but in

135

Wilamowitz 1922: 263. The composition of the audience of the epinician performances was variable and depended on the nature of occasion. See, for instance, Krummen 266–67 and passim, who has argued that whereas Isthmian 4, Pythian 5, and Olympian 3 addressed large Theban, Cyrenaean, and Acragantine audiences, the targeted audience of Olympian 1 was Hieron’s court. For rather small sympotic performances in Aegina see Burnett 2005: 239–40 and passim. See also the interesting discussion in Carey 2007. Regardless of the first performance, however, we should bear in mind that in the long run, Pindar’s and any other great poet’s target was an ever-changing Panhellenic audience. 137 Stehle 28. 136

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

463

a moderate oligarchy it is fair to assume that they spoke on behalf of the majority. Definition and public affirmation of the aristocratic agenda through performance could be an end in and of itself, but internal or Panhellenic politics could also come into play.138 Aristocratic excess had been a target of Solon’s poetry and Pindar’s acquaintance with criticism of aristocracy in Athens and elsewhere need not be doubted.139 Solon’s description of the privileged of his own time is indicative of the kind of attack directed against aristocracy. According to Solon, Dike will prevail and exact punishment in due course (4.15– 16 W) and Eunomia has the power to restrain the unjust, stop excess, weaken hybris and madness, straighten out crooked judgements, soften deeds of pride and put an end to sedition and strife (4.32–39 W). 140 Clearly, the excesses that Solon imputes to the aristocrats of his time in Athens and the evils of the house of Agamemnon, which the epinician chorus narrate, display the same pathology. Another similarity between Solonian elegy and the Pindaric epinician is the advocacy of the middle course, but from a different viewpoint. Solon encourages the adoption of the middle course from an anti-aristocratic standpoint (4c W), whereas Pindar composes the Eleventh Pythian for performance by an elite group whose standpoint is clearly aristocratic.141 Useful for our purposes too is Solon’s faith that justice and eunomia will prevail and that the city will never perish, because Athena is its powerful guardian and protectress (4.1–4 W). The advocacy of the middle way by both Solon and Theognis shows that by Pindar’s time it had long been a negotiating position in aristocratic and antiaristocratic political agendas.142 Precisely the same negotiating position is dramatized on the Athenian stage.143 In the Eumenides the Erinyes advocate the middle course as a presupposition of justice and prosperity, which they define as the 138

Stehle 12–13 has drawn attention to the fact that especially in ritual contexts performance entailed enacting social status. 139 For Pindar’s knowledge of Solon’s poetry see Newman 1982. 140 As Donlan 72 pointed out, Solon’s list of aristocratic faults reflected the common man’s perception of aristocracy. For Solon’s dialogue with Hesiod in this elegy see the recent discussion in Irwin with a review of previous scholarly discussion. 141 For the different ideological perspective of the two poets see also Gentili 149. The difference in ideology is also evident from the absence of phthonos in Solon’s political poetry, noted by Newman 1982. Unlike Pindar, for Solon it was not envy that the aristocrats of his time should ward off, but their own transgressions. 142 For the appropriation of the same idiom by Solon and Theognis see Nagy 1983. 143 In his First Dithyramb Bacchylides echoes Solon (c. 15.50–63) in a song that, according to Maehler, was composed to be danced at the Panathenaea; see Maehler 2004: 157 and now Fearn 2007: 315–23.

464

L. ATHANASSAKI

middle way between despotism and anarchy (526–37). Athena expresses the same view in her instructions to the jurors right before the beginning of the voting (696–97). The appropriation of the same discourse by aristocrats and their opponents may account for Pindar’s decision to define more precisely the aristocratic civic model in terms of what it is and what it is not. If for Aeschylus the ideal civic model is the negation of the two political extremes, for Pindar, in a composition for a Theban audience, it is the rejection of despotism and its pathology. In his native city the poet, who had elsewhere praised kings and tyrants, opts for the rule of the few.144 The political situation in Thebes in 474 was different from 454, but whether the threat to the elite was internal or external, definition and promotion of aristocratic agenda was equally appropriate at both times.145 If the ode was composed in 474, evocation of the tyrannical rule a few years earlier on the part of the audience would be inescapable, even if the primary intent of the statement was to assuage their fear vis-à-vis the intentions of the honorand and his family. The same is true for 454. Athenian interference and control over Theban politics was yet another threat to the elite. In both instances aristocratic solidarity was crucial as a bulwark against internal and external usurpers of power. Pindar’s anatomy of the pathology of despotism mainly in the form of a mythological exemplum was a subtle way to promote a positive elite model in the specific historical circumstances and in the long run a guarantee for the relevance of the message for different occasions. The representation of Athena as the paragon of justice and eunomia by the Athenian poets sheds light upon Pindar’s dissociation of Apollo from partisan politics in his Oresteia. In Aeschylus’ Oresteia the patron-goddess of the Athenians, when confronted with the magnitude of Orestes’ deed, does not see simple solutions, but great complexities. She immediately states that the matter is far too great for a mortal, but it is not right for herself either to judge alone a murder that has caused sharp wrath (470–72), and proceeds to establish the legal process which will enable her to share responsibility.146 Whether we view Aeschylus’ Oresteia as a triumph of democratic ideology or as a complex negotiation of power between the Athenian demos and the aristocracy, Aeschylus, like

144

In Pythian 2.86–88 he distinguishes between the rule of the one, the few, and the many. For the significance of this distinction and Pindar’s attitude to tyrants see Nagy 1990: 274–313 and Hornblower 2004: 78–86. 145 For internal divisions in Thebes after the Persians wars see Thuc. 3.62.5 and Bowra 138–39. 146 For the idea of divine responsibility and obligations to mortals see Sommerstein 24.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

465

Solon, casts Athena in the role of supreme arbitrer of justice and eunomia.147 Like the Athenians, the Thebans also needed a god to oversee civic order and the distribution of justice. For Hesiod this god was Zeus.148 For the poet, who was later imagined as Apollo’s table-companion, the god of Delphi could also play this role in Thebes and the rest of the Doric world. Viewed as an epinician in honor of Thrasydaeus’ Pythian victory and an encomium of Ismenian and Delphic Apollo the Eleventh Pythian displays a subordination of individual praise to communal celebration. The athletic excellence and the civic virtues of Thrasydaeus and his family are praised through the enumeration of their victories and their association with the Dioscuri and Iolaus. Apollo is honored in the common song of the performing male chorus and the imaginary female chorus as a god of justice, peace, music, and athletics. Moreover, the male dancers cast themselves as a perfect example of the civic values that Apollo represents, becoming thus for the duration of the performance the embodiment of Apolline values. iii. CONCLUSIONS It is time to pull together the different strands of my argument. Pindar’s representations of Apollo and his oracle show the use of two different strategies: strong emphasis on the god’s prominent role in auspicious stories and suppression of his involvement in inauspicious tales. All accounts of Apollo’s prominence are to a greater or lesser extent Pindar’s innovations and illustrate ancestral privilege and wisdom. The suppression of Apollo’s role in stories of transgression serves a similar end: it downplays all those elements that would call into question ancestral excellence or Apolline justice. The objectives of the epinician versions of the story of the Labdacids in the Second Olympian and of Neoptolemus in the Seventh Nemean on the one hand and of Apollo’s absence from the Oresteia in the Eleventh Pythian on the 147

The literature on the politics of the Oresteia is vast. For an argument in favor of conflict and negotiation of power between mass and elite see Griffith with bibliography. Griffith’s analysis of the dynamics of power rests on a thorough study of (a) the relations between the members of the royal house of Argos with other Greek ruling families and with the Olympians, which—as he demonstrates—are informed by the aristocratic values of xenia and hetairia, and (b) the perception and reception of the acts of the “brilliant dynasts” by the less privileged characters of the trilogy such as the watchman, the choruses, and the Athenian judges. In favor of democratic ideology see Goldhill 2000 with a review of the main contemporary scholarly approaches. 148 For the significance of Zeus’ absence from Solon as opposed to Hesiod see Irwin 169–80 with bibliography.

466

L. ATHANASSAKI

other are different only in terms of perspective. Apollo’s dissociation from instigation or sanction of horrendous deeds is a tacit affirmation of his justice. The dissociation of Apolline prophecy from acts of transgression and the transference of agency to inescapable Moira is a subtle reconfiguration of ancestors’ ethos and pathos: ancestral faults and sins are kept in the background and suffering is attributed to the designs of Destiny. It is precisely on account of Apolline justice that the god’s distance from inauspicious tales gains significance. The god’s involvement would entail attribution of justice and would throw human responsibility into relief. Apollo’s absence and the operation of Moira in effect mitigates the gravity of human transgression and transfers matters to a higher realm, where human decision-making is unthinkable and even divine conformity to the mandates of Moira is ordinarily expected. We have seen that Pindar’s representations of the unusually harmonious ancestral interaction with Apollo in the Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth Olympians and in the Fourth and Fifth Pythians are all innovative accounts that showcase inherited excellence. Pindaric representations are thus polar opposites of fifthcentury depictions of Apolline prophecy as a catalyst in the chain of ancestral sin, inherited guilt, and punishment. In the epinicians Apolline prophecy serves as an authoritative illustration of inherited excellence with special emphasis on the most precious of gifts, wisdom. In all these instances Apollo emerges as a patron of the elite whom he favors and guides smoothly and unambiguously. Pindar’s stories of Apollo and his oracle, brilliant representations of aristocratic aspiration to exclusive club membership, are clearly unique. Comparison with contemporary or earlier depictions of Apolline prophecy sets in relief the uniqueness of Pindar’s representations.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

467

BIBLIOGRAPHY Angeli Bernardini, P. 1989. “Il proemio della Pitica XI di Pindaro e i culti Tebani.” In H. Beister and John Buckler, eds., Boiotika. Munich. 39–47. Athanassaki, L. 1990. Mantic Vision and Diction in Pindar’s Victory Odes. Diss. Brown University. _____. 1994. “Choral and Prophetic Discourse in the First Stasimon of the Agamemnon,” CJ 89: 149–62. _____. 2003a. “A Divine Audience for the Celebration of Asopichus’ Victory in Pindar’s Fourteenth Olympian Ode.” In G. W. Bakewell and J. Sickinger, eds., Gestures. Oxford. 3–15. _____. 2003.
“Tranformations of Colonial Disruption into Narrative Continuity in Pindar’s Epinician Odes,” HSCP 101: 93–128. _____. 2004. “Deixis, Performance, and Poetics in Pindar’s First Olympian Ode,” Arethusa 37: 317–41. _____. Forthcoming. “Giving Wings to the Aeginetan Sculptures: The Panhellenic Aspirations of Pindar’s Olympian Eight.” In D. Fearn, ed., Aegina: Contexts for Choral Poetry. Oxford. Bierl, A. 1994. “Apollo in Greek Tragedy: Orestes and the God of Initiation.” In J. Solomon, ed., Apollo. Origins and Influences. Tucson. 81–96. Bundy, E. 1986. [orig. 1962]. Studia Pindarica. Berkeley. Braswell, B. C. 1988. A Commentary on the Fourth Pythian Ode of Pindar. Berlin. Burton, R. W. B. 1962. Pindar’s Pythian Odes. Oxford. Bowra, C. M. 1936. “Pindar, Pythian XI,” CQ 30: 129–41. Burnett, A. P. 1988. “Jocasta in the West. The Lille Stesichorus,” CA 7: 107–54. _____. 1998. “Spontaneity, Savaging, and Praise in Pindar’s Sixth Paean,” AJP 119: 493–520. _____. 2005. Pindar’s Songs for Young Athletes of Aegina. Oxford. Calame, C. 2000. Poétique des mythes dans la Grèce antique. Paris. _____. 2003. (Engl. transl. D. W. Berman) Myth and History in Ancient Greece. The Symbolic Creation of a Colony. Princeton. Campbell, D. A. 1991. Greek Lyric III. Stesichorus, Ibycus, Simonides, and Others. Cambridge, Mass. Carey, C. 1989. “Prosopographica Pindarica,” CQ n.s. 39: 1–9. _____. 1995. “Pindar and the Victory Ode.” In L. Ayres, ed., The Passionate Intellect. New Brunswick. 85–103. _____. 2007. “Pindar, Place, and Performance.” In In S. Hornblower and C. Morgan, eds., Pindar’s Poetry, Patrons, and Festivals. Oxford. 199–210. Crotty, K. 1982. Song and Action. Baltimore.

468

L. ATHANASSAKI

Currie, B. 2005. Pindar and the Cult of Heroes. Oxford. D’Alessio, G. B. 1994. “First-Person Problems in Pindar,” BICS 39: 117–39. Davies, M. I. 1969. “Thoughts on the Oresteia Before Aeschylus,” BCH 93: 214–60. Defradas, J. 1972. Les thèmes de la propagande delphique. Paris. _____. 1974. “DIORYVSAI LOGON: La septième Olympique.” In J. Heller, ed., Serta Turyniana. Urbana. 34–50. Detienne, M. 1998. Apollon le couteau à la main. Paris. Donlan, W. 1999. The Aristocratic Ideal and Selected Papers. Wauconda, Il. Dougherty, C. 1993. The Poetics of Colonization. Oxford. Duchemin, J. 1955. Pindare poète et prophète. Paris. Düring, I. 1943. “Klytaimestra—nhlØw gunã,”
Eranos 41: 91–123. Egan, R. B. 1983. “On the Relevance of Orestes in Pindar’s Eleventh Pythian,” Phoenix 37: 189–200. Farnell, L. R. 1930. The Works of Pindar. Translation in Rhythmical Prose with Literary Comments. London. _____. 1961 [1932]. Pindar. A Commentary. Amsterdam. Fearn, D. 2003. “Mapping Phleious: Politics and Myth-Making in Bacchylides 9,” CQ n.s. 53: 347–67. _____. 2007. Bacchylides. Politics, Performance, Poetic Tradition. Oxford. Ferrari, F. 1998. Pindaro. Olimpiche. Milan. Finglass, P. J. 2007. Pindar Pythian Eleven. Edited with Introduction, Translation, and Commentary. Cambridge. Finley. J. H., Jr. 1966. Pindar and Aeschylus. Cambridge, MA. Garner, R. 1992. “Mules, Mysteries, and Song in Pindar’s Olympia 6,” CA 11: 45–67. Gentili, B. 1988. Poetry and Its Public in Ancient Greece. Baltimore. Gildersleeve, B. L. 1965 [1890]. Pindar: The Olympian and Pythian Odes. New York. Goldhill, S. 1991. The Poet’s Voice. Cambridge. _____. 2000. “Civic Ideology and the Problem of Difference: The Politics of Aeschylean Tragedy Once Again,” JHS 120: 34–56. Griffith, M. 1995. “Brilliant Dynasts: Power and Politics in the Oresteia,” CA 14: 62–129. Herington, J. 1984. “Pindar’s Eleventh Pythian Ode and Aeschylus’ Agamemnon.” In D. E. Gerber, ed., Greek Poetry and Philosophy. Chico. 137–46. Heubek A. and A. Hoekstra. 1989. A Commentary on Homer’s Odyssey. II: Books ix–xvi. Oxford.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

469

Hornblower, S. 2004. Thucydides and Pindar. Oxford. _____. 2007. “‘Dolphins in the Sea’ (Isthmian 9. 7): Pindar and the Aeginetans.” In S. Hornblower and C. Morgan, eds., Pindar’s Poetry, Patrons, and Festivals. Oxford. 287–308. Hubbard, T. K. 1987 “Two Notes on the Myth of Aeacus in Pindar,” GRBS 28: 5–22. _____. 1990. “Envy and the Invisible Roar: Pindar, Pythian 11.30,” GRBS 31: 343–51. Instone, S. J. 1996. “Did Pindar Err?” CQ n.s. 36: 86–94. Irwin, E. 2005. Solon and Early Greek Poetry. Cambridge. Kakridis, J. T. 1979. “Die 14. Olympische Ode. Ein Beitrag zum Problem der Religiosität Pindars,” Serta Philologica Aenipotana 3: 141–47. Kirk, G. S. 1990. The Iliad. A Commentary. II. Books 5–8. Cambridge. Köhnken, A. 1971. Die Funktion des Mythos bei Pindar. Berlin. Kowalzig, B. 2007. Singing for the Gods. Oxford. Krummen, E. 1990. Pyrsos Hymnon. Berlin. Kurke, L. 1991. The Traffic in Praise. Princeton. _____. 1991a. “Fathers and Sons. A Note on Pindaric Ambiguity,” AJP 109: 180–95. _____. 2005. “Choral Lyric as ‘Ritualization’: Poetic Sacrifice and Poetic Ego in Pindar’s Sixth Paean,” CA 24: 81–130. Lefkowitz, M. 1991. First Person Fictions. Oxford. Lesky, A. 1931. “Die Orestie des Aischylos,” Hermes 66: 190–214. Lloyd-Jones, H. 1973. “Modern Interpretation of Pindar: The Second Pythian and the Seventh Nemean Odes,” JHS 93: 109–37. Maehler, H. 2004. Bacchylides. A Selection. Cambridge. _____. 1989. Pindari carmina cum fragmentis. II. Leipzig. Moret, J.-M. 1982. “L’ ‘Apollinisation’ de l’imagerie légendaire à Athènes dans la seconde moitié du Ve siècle.” In Revue archéologique. Hommage à Henri Metzger. 109–36. Most, G. W. 1986. “Pindar, Nem. 7.31–36,” Hermes 114: 262–71. Nagy, G. 1983. “Poet and Tyrant: Theognidea 39–52, 1081–1082b,” CA 2: 82– 91. _____. 1990. Pindar’s Homer. Baltimore. _____. 1994. “Genre and Occasion,” Metis 9: 11–25. Neschke, A. 1986. “L’Orestie de Stésichore et la tradition littéraire du mythe des Atrides avant Eschyle,”AC 55: 283–301. Newman, F. S. 1979. “The Relevance of the Myth in Pindar’s Eleventh Pythian,” Hellenica 31: 44–64.

470

L. ATHANASSAKI

Newman, J. K. 1982. “Pindar, Solon and Jealousy: Political Vocabulary in the Eleventh Pythian,” ICS 7: 189–95. Nicholson, N. J. 2005. Aristocracy and Athletics in Archaic and Classical Greece. Cambridge. Ohly, D. 1974. (Engl. transl. H. Hughes-Brock) The Munich Glyptotek. Greek and Roman Sculpture. Munich. Osborne, R. 1998. Archaic and Classical Greek Art. Oxford. Prag, A. J. N. W. 1985. The Oresteia. Iconographic and Narrative Tradition. Warminster. Race, W. H. 1997. Pindar. Olympian Odes. Pythian Odes. Cambridge, Mass. Richardson, N. 1993. The Iliad. A Commentary. II. Books 21–24. Cambridge. Robbins, E. 1986. “Pindar’s Oresteia and the Tragedians.” In M. Cropp, E. Fantham, and S. E. Scully, eds., Greek Tragedy and its Legacy. Calgary. 1– 11. _____. 1986a. “The Broken Wall, the Burning Roof and Tower: Pindar, Ol. 8.31–46,” CQ ns. 36: 317–21. Rose, P. W. 1992. Sons of the Gods, Children of Earth. Ithaca, NY. Rutherford, I. 2001. Pindar’s Paeans. Oxford. Schachter, A. 2000. “The Daphnephoria of Thebes.” In P. Angeli Bernardini, ed., Presenza e funzione della città di Tebe nella cultura greca. Urbino. 99– 123. _____. 2005. “The Singing Contest of Kithairon and Helikon: Korinna, fr. 654 PMG Col. i and ii. 1–11: Content and Context,” In A. Kolde, A. Lukinovich, and A.-L. Rey, eds., korufa¤ƒ éndr¤.
 Mélanges offerts à André Hurst. Geneva. 275–83. Segal, C. 1967. “Pindar’s Seventh Nemean,” TAPA 98: 431–80. _____. 1986. Pindar’s Mythmaking: The Fourth Pythian Ode. Princeton. Sevieri, R. 1999. “Un eroe in cerca d’identità: Oreste nella Pitica XI di Pindaro per Trasideo di Tebe,” MD 43: 77–110. Shapiro, H. A. 1996. “Athena, Apollo, and the Religious Propaganda of the Athenian Empire.” In P. Hellström and B. Alroth, eds., Religion and Power in the Ancient Greek World. Uppsala. 101–13. Shelmerdine, S. C. 1987. “Pindaric Praise in the Third Olympian,” HSCP 91: 65–81. Slater, W. J. 1969. “Futures in Pindar,” CQ n.s. 19: 86–94. _____. 1997. “Aristo-Talk.” In D. Papenfuß and V. M. Strocka, eds., Gab es das Griechische Wunder? Mainz. 39–49. Smith, O. L. 1984. “Pindar’s Seventh Nemean Ode,” C&M 35: 5–17. Snell, B. and H. Maehler 1987. Pindari Carmina cum fragmentis. I. Leipzig.

APOLLO AND HIS ORACLE IN PINDAR’S EPINICIANS

471

Sommerstein, A. 1989. Aeschylus. Eumenides. Cambridge. Stehle, E. 1997. Performance and Gender in Ancient Greece. Princeton. Stéfos, A. 1975. Apollon dans Pindare. Athens. Thummer, E. 1968. Pindar. Die Isthmischen Gedichte, I. Heidelberg. Tugendhadt, E. 1960. “Zum Rechtfertigungsproblem in Pindars 7. Nemeischen Gedicht,” Hermes 88: 385–409. Turyn, A. 1948. Pindari carmina cum fragmentis. Krakow. Van Wees, H. 1999. “Tyrtaeus’ Eunomia. Nothing to do with the Great Rhetra.” In S. Hodkinson and A. Powell, eds., Sparta. New Perspectives. London. 1– 37. Von der Mühl, P. 1958. “Wurde die elfte Pythie Pindars 474 oder 454 gedichtet?” MH 15: 141–46. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff. U. von. 1886. Isyllos von Epidauros. Philologische Untersuchungen, 9. Berlin. _____. 1896. Aeschylos’ Orestie, II. Das Opfer am Grabe. Berlin. _____. 1922. Pindaros. Berlin. Winnington-Ingram, R. P. 1969. “Pindar’s Ninth Pythian Ode,” BICS 16: 9–15. Young, D. C. 1968. Three Odes of Pindar. Leiden.