Davies, Malcolm. 2019. The Cypria. Hellenic Studies Series 83. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies. http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:hul.ebook:CHS_DaviesM.The_Cypria.2019.
1. The Origins of the Trojan War
From Zeus’ Plan to Eris’ Intervention
F1 Scholion on Iliad I 5
Σ Α Iliad I 5 (1.45 sq. van Thiel)
Διὸς δ’ ἐτελείετο βουλή· Διὸς βουλὴν οἱ μὲν τὴν εἱμαρμένην ἀπέδοσαν … ἄλλοι δὲ ἀπὸ ἱστορίας τινὸς εἶπον εἰρηκέναι τὸν Ὅμηρον· φασὶ γὰρ τὴν Γῆν βαρουμένην ὑπὸ ἀνθρώπων πολυπληθίας, μηδεμιᾶς ἀνθρώπων οὔσης εὐσεβείας, αἰτῆσαι τὸν Δία κουφισθῆναι τοῦ ἄχθους· τὸν δὲ Δία πρῶτον μὲν εὐθὺς πoιῆσαι τὸν Θηβαϊκὸν πόλεμον, δι’ οὗ πoλλoὺς πάνυ ἀπώλεσεν. ὕστερον δὲ πάλιν τὸν Ἰλιακόν, συμβoύλωι τῶι Μώμωι χρησάμενος, ἣν Διὸς βουλὴν Ὅμηρος φησιν – ἐπειδὴ οἷός τε ἦν κεραυνοῖς ἢ κατακλυσμοῖς πάντας διαφθείρειν, ὅπερ τοῦ Μώμου κωλύσαντος, ὑποθεμένου δὲ αὐτῶι γνώμας δύο, τὴν Θέτιδος θνητογαμίαν καὶ θυγατρὸς καλὴν γένναν, ἐξ ὧν ἀμφοτέρων πόλεμος Ἕλλησί τε καὶ βαρβάροις ἐγένετο, ἀφ’ οὗ συνέβη κουφισθῆναι τὴν Γῆν, πολλῶν ἀναιρεθέντων. ἡ δὲ ἱστορία παρὰ Στασίνωι τῶι τὰ Κύπρια πεποιηκότι εἰπόντι οὕτως·
ἦν ὅτε μυρία φῦλα κατὰ χθόνα † πλαζόμενα
⟨ ⟩ βαθυστέρνου πλάτος αἴης.
Ζεὺς δὲ ἰδὼν ἐλέησε καὶ ἐν πυκιναῖς πραπίδεσσι
† σύνθετο κουφίσαι παμβώτορα γαίης ἀνθρώπων †
5 ῥιπίσσας πολέμου μεγάλην ἔριν Ἰλιακοῖο
ὄφρα κενώσειεν † θανάτου βάρος· οἱ δ᾽ ἐνὶ Τροίηι
ἥρωες κτείνοντο· Διὸς δ᾽ ἐτελείετο βουλή·
⟨ ⟩ βαθυστέρνου πλάτος αἴης.
Ζεὺς δὲ ἰδὼν ἐλέησε καὶ ἐν πυκιναῖς πραπίδεσσι
† σύνθετο κουφίσαι παμβώτορα γαίης ἀνθρώπων †
5 ῥιπίσσας πολέμου μεγάλην ἔριν Ἰλιακοῖο
ὄφρα κενώσειεν † θανάτου βάρος· οἱ δ᾽ ἐνὶ Τροίηι
ἥρωες κτείνοντο· Διὸς δ᾽ ἐτελείετο βουλή·
καὶ τὰ μὲν παρὰ τοῖς νεωτέροις ἱστορούμενα περὶ τῆς τοῦ Διὸς βουλῆς ἐστι τάδε.
The plan of Zeus: some say this is fate… Others say that Homer is referring to a given story. For they say that the Earth was burdened by the numerous crowd of mankind, and there being no piety on the part of mankind, asked Zeus to be relieved of the burden. And Zeus first immediately brought about the Theban War, by which means he destroyed very many men, and then again the Trojan War. In this he took counsel with Momus—which Homer describes as the plan of Zeus—and by this means he would be able to annihilate all mankind. But Momus prevented this, and Thetis suggested to Zeus marriage with a mortal and the fathering of a fair daughter, from both of which causes war came about between Greeks and Trojans, as a result of which the Earth was relieved thanks to the killing of many men. This story is in Stasinus, author of the Cypria who said as follows:
Once upon a time, the countless tribes <of mortals, thronging about, kept constantly weighing down> the broad surface of the deep-bosomed earth. And Zeus, seeing this, took pity, and in his cunning mind he devised a plan to lighten the burden caused by mankind from the face of the all-nourishing earth, by fanning into flame the great strife that was the Trojan War, in order to alleviate the earth’s burden by means of the death of men. So it was that the heroes were killed in battle at Troy, and the will of Zeus was accomplished.
This is the story more recent poets tell concerning the plan of Zeus.
cf. Σ Eur. Or. 1641 (1.236 Schwartz) ἱστορεῖται ὅτι ἡ Γῆ βαρουμένη τῶι πλήθει τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἠξίωσε τὸν Δία ἐλαφρῦναι αὐτῆς τὸ βάρος· τὸν δὲ Δία εἰς χάριν αὐτῆς συγκρoτῆσαι τόν τε Θηβαϊκὸν πόλεμον καὶ τὸν Ἰλιακὸν, ἵνα τῶν πολλῶν ἀναιρεθέντων κουφισμὸς γένηται. cf. etiam Chrysippi fr. 117 von Arnim (S. V. F. II.338) ap. Plut. de stoic, repugn. 32 (1049B) (p. 39 Pohlenz): τὸν Εὐριπίδην μάρτυρα καὶ τοὺς ἄλλoυς πρoσάγεται τοὺς λέγοντας ὡς ὁ Τρωϊκὸς πόλεμος ὑπὸ τῶν θεῶν ἀναπλήσεως χάριν τοῦ πλήθους τοῦ τῶν ἀνθρώπων γένους γένοιτο.
et Chrysippi fr. 937 (S. V. F. II.269) ap. Plut. ibid. 34 (1050B) (p. 41 Pohlenz): πανταχοῦ γὰρ ταῦτα θρυλεῖται ὑπ’ αὐτῶν· καὶ τὸ “Διὸς δ’ ἐτελείετο βουλή” τὸν Ὅμηρον εἰρηκέναι φησὶν ὀρθῶς ἐπὶ τὴν εἱμαρμένην ἀναφέροντα καὶ τὴν τῶν ὅλων φύσιν, καθ’ ἣν πάντα διολεῖται.
fragmentum misere corruptum atque lacunosum: sigla codicum dedi secundum A. Ludwich, Textkr. Untersuch. über die mythol. Scholien zu Homers Ilias I (1900), qui etiam coniecturas virorum doctorum exscripsit (pp. 12 sqq.); quisquilias omisi
παρὰ Στασίνωι: nomen poetae varii codd. varie (παρὰ τασίνωι, π. τερασίνωι vel sim.) deformant; corr. Barnes
1 πλαζόμενα codd. omnes praeter Fq qui πλαζόμενα περ praebet, unde πλαζομένων περ | ἀνθρώπων (vel δυσσεβέων) coni. Ludwich (πλαζομέν᾽ ἀνδρῶν iam Barnes) 2 lacunam aliter supplent alii (ex. gr.| ἄχθει εὐρὺ βάρυνε Boissonade, | ἀνθρώπων ἐβάρυνε Ludwich): | πλαζομέν ’ αἵει (Ebert) valde arridet βαθυστέρνου: βαρυστέρνου codd. omnes nisi βαρυστόνου AJ: corr. Lascaris 3 δὲ om. J, δέ τε praebet Fq ἐλέησε: ἐλέησεν A ἠλέησε JYb, ἄλγησε Wb, ὤκτειρ ’ ἄρα Fq ἐν om. DcFrY πυκιναῖς: πυκναῖς JRA πυκίναισι Fq 4 sic RAV (paulum moramur si codd. alii γαίην, γαίαν, vel παμβότειραν exhibent): κουφίσαι ἀνθρώπων παμβώτορα σύνθετο γαῖαν coni. W. Ribbeck, alii 5 ῥιπίσας RaYb ῥιπίσαι codd. cett. (ῥιπίσαι τε As) corr. Wolf 6 κενώσειεν (R?)Yb: κενώσειε codd. cett. θανάτου: θανάτ Fq, θανάτωι coni. Lascaris, θανάτοις Wassenbergh, θάνατος tempt. Ludwich ἐνἱ τoῖς As δ ’: ἐνὶ Ra δὲ ἐν codd. cett. (δὲ ἐν τῆ J) 7 Διὸς … βουλή om. DcFrY
The Plan of Zeus
The longest (but not the most enlightening) treatment of this fragment is by Elton T. E. Barker, “Momus Advises Zeus: Changing Representations of Cypria fr. 1,” in Papers on Ancient Literatures: Greece, Rome, and the Near East (Quaderni del Dipartimento di Scienze dell’Antichità e del Vicino Oriente 4) (Padua 2008) 33–74. This piece’s preference for proceeding by free thought-association robs it of most (not all) value. It certainly has a lengthy bibliography which, however, omits the much more enlightening, though little-known study [1] of most of the issues raised by this fragment and its relation to the opening of the poem: A. Severyns, “Sur le début des Chants Cypriens,” Mededelingen der Koninklijke Nederlandse Akademie van Wetenschappen, afd. Letterkunde Nieuwe Reeks Deel 28.5 (1965): 1–15 (= 285–297), quoted below as Severyns 1965 with the lower numeration.
Context
I begin with two small points of detail concerning passages that presuppose our fragment. The Euripidean scholion [2] is obviously thinking of the lines from the Cypria. Observe in particular its use of βάρος, κουφίσαι, and the rare adjective Ἰλιακός (see my notes on verses 4, 5, and 6). The relevance of the passages of Plutarch to our fragment (noted by Pöhlenz in his edition ad locc.) is obvious, though usually overlooked (Rudolf Kassel drew it to my attention).
The textual presentation of the fragment is fraught with difficulties. The fragment itself is exceptionally corrupt and lacunose, and it is contained in a large number of manuscripts. These present several trivial variants, but not one of them goes at all far towards healing a corruption or filling a lacuna. I base my text on that presented in H. van Thiel, Aristarch, Aristophanes Byzantinos, Demetrios Ixion, Zenodot: Fragmente zur Ilias gesammelt, neu herausgegeben, und kommentiert (Berlin 2014) 1.45–46. The fullest assemblage of the manuscript evidence is A. Ludwich’s in his article “Textkritische Untersuchungen über die mythologischen Scholien zu Homer’s Ilias I,” Verzeichnis der auf der Königlichen Albertus-Universität zu Königsberg … haltenden Vorlesungen 1 (1900): 10–20 (this work was unknown to Allen when he edited the epic fragments for his OCT Homer volume [although the omission was largely made good in his “Homerica II: Additions to the Epic Cycle,” Classical Review 27 (1913): 189]) and not noticeably utilized by Bethe (1929). For most purposes Ludwich’s collation is too full: we do not need to know that one manuscript has οὖν ὅτε for ἦν ὅτε in line 1, nor do we require a list of the various deformations of Stasinus’ name (παρὰ τασίνωι, παρὰ ταράσινωι,…) in different manuscripts. Similarly, though Ludwich’s catalogue of the various attempts made by scholars to undo our fragment’s corruptions is invaluable, it need not be reproduced in its entirety in a present-day apparatus criticus. I select those readings and conjectures which seem most pertinent and refer the reader for fuller information to Ludwich’s article.
The contents of the fragment themselves provide enough difficulties in all conscience. But before we can turn to them there is a truly fearsome cluster of problems concerning its context which we must tackle. What was our fragment’s position within the poem as a whole? What is its relationship to the summary of events in the Cypria given by Proclus? What is its relationship to the ἱστορία which leads up to it in the A-scholion?
Position
One is so used to hearing these lines referred to as “the proem of the Cypria,” or even as “the opening verses” of the poem, that some positive mental effort is required before we can recall that its quoter does not helpfully place it ἐν ἀρχῆι τῶν Κυπρίων vel sim. but, on the contrary, fails to supply any evidence whatsoever of its position. Nor is there any other decisive external evidence. Proclus does specifically mention a Διὸς βουλή, but places it near the end of the Cypria (see page 185 below) and, by immediately defining its aim as ὅπως ἐπικουφίσηι τοὺς Τρῶας Ἀχιλλέα τῆς συμμαχίας τῆς Ἑλληνικῆς ἀποστῆσας (scil. ὁ Ζεύς), shows that it cannot be identified with the βουλή of our fragment. Proclus also begins his summary of our poem’s contents by informing us that Ζεὺς βούλευεται μετὰ τῆς Θέμιδος [3] περὶ τοῦ Τρωίκου πολέμου, but since our fragment makes no mention of Themis and it is not immediately obvious how her role as an advisor can be fitted with it, any immediate correlation of our fragment with that part of the summary would be premature and circular.
Are there are any independent reasons for assigning our fragment to the start or near the start of the epic? Only after answering this will it be right to endeavor to reconcile this fragment with the first event that Proclus assigns to the Cypria.
There are numerous conceivable reasons for placing our fragment near the start of the Cypria; not all of them are of equal weight:
(i) the first words of the first line are “once upon a time,” which leads us to expect a position near the start of the work;
(ii) the second half of line 7 is identical with the second half of line 5 of the first book of the Iliad which is part of that epic‘s proem;
(iii) the fragment would make a suitably grandiose opening for a poet minded to begin his work in such a manner;
(iv) the fragment is difficult to place elsewhere in the poem, since it takes the ultimate cause of the war as far back as is humanly (and divinely) possible.
I have placed these arguments in what seems to me the ascending order of plausibility. None of them possesses an overwhelming persuasiveness when taken in isolation; together, however, they make up a reasonably convincing case. But clearly these scholars go too far who assume we have the very first lines of the poem: [4] we have absolutely no means of determining whether the more normal invocation of the Muse(s) will have preceded our fragment or not.
Allowing, then, that it is likely that our fragment stood near its poem’s start, are we justified in trying to reconcile it (a) with the start of Proclus’ summary of the Cypria; (b) with the details in the ἱστορία which precedes it in Venetus A? I start with (a): Ζεὺς βούλευεται μετὰ τῆς Θέμιδος περὶ τοῦ Τρωίκου πολέμου.
In our fragment, Zeus, within the space of a very few lines indeed, sees Earth’s plight, takes pity on it, and decides to relieve it by the expedient of the Trojan War. There is clearly no room for Themis’ intervention there. But Zeus could perfectly well proceed to confer with Themis concerning the plan he had already formed: Earth’s burden will be alleviated by war, but how shall that war be brought about? For this we need the advice of Themis, or so, at least, most scholars [5] have assumed, and this hypothesis is so economic a means of connecting our two testimonia here that I cannot but follow them. Most scholars have also concluded [6] that the advice she gave related to the begetting of Helen upon Nemesis as related in F8A. Now Kullmann, who is unnecessarily timid about accepting the correction Θέμιδος (for Θέτιδος) [7] in Proclus’ text, does well to remind us of the unlikeliness of the idea that F8 will have occurred as an immediate sequel to the present (1960:183–f8184). In F8A 2, ποτε effectively rules this out (see further ad loc.). Kullmann himself would prefer to connect her with the organizing of the Judgment of Paris; [8] but this hangs so closely together with the birth of Helen that Themis can well have given advice on both. And our recognition that F8A itself cannot have featured as the direct sequel to Themis’ advice does not exclude the possibility that some such sequel did follow. Lesky, for instance (RE 19.1 [1937] s.v. “Peleus” [298.34–52]), presumes that Themis advised Zeus “wie er durch die Entfachung des troischen Krieges der Erde Erleichterung schaffen und wie er für das Zustandekommen dieses Kriegs mit Nemesis Helena zeugen soll.”
The main obstacle to this satisfying solution lies in the version of events given by Σ AD shortly before its quotation of our fragment. In this, Momus seems to take the place of Themis as reconstituted above:
ὑποθεμένου δὲ αὐτῶι … τὴν Θέτιδος θνητογαμίαν καὶ θυγατρὸς καλὴν γένναν, ἐξ ὧν ἀμφοτέρων πόλεμος Ελλησί τε καὶ βαρβάροις ἐγένετο, ἀφ’ οὗ συνέβη κουφισθῆναι τὴν Γῆν, πολλῶν ἀναιρεθέντων.
One might conceivably interpret this advice as complementary to, or a doublet of, Themis’ role, and place both Momus and that goddess within the Cypria, [9] or suppose that Themis’ advice concerned a different problem, were not Momus’ advice so inextricably linked to what goes before in the A-scholion. According to this, the earth, being weighed down by the mass of mankind (amongst whom there was no εὐσέβεια), begged Zeus to lighten her load. He responds first by causing the Theban war; but later, when planning to destroy the whole human race by thunderbolts or flood, he is diverted by Momus’ advice to the more genial course quoted above. I find it hard not to agree with scholars like Bethe (1929:228), Kullmann (1955:180), and Severyns (“Sur le début,” 8–10) that this narrative is profoundly incompatible with what we find in our fragment. There the earth is unpersonified and does not have to appeal to Zeus, for he sees her plight and spontaneously pities it. There no impiety on the part of the human race exacerbates her burden. There Zeus decides at once to cause the assault on Troy; and we have no room for the Theban war as a preliminary measure, no room for the abortive plans of cataclysm, and no room for the seasonable advice of Momus (attributed to the Cypria by e.g. R. Scodel, “The Achaean Wall,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 86 [1982]: 41). Nor can it be alleged that any of these events originally occurred before, after, or between the surviving lines. ἦν ὅτε seals the opening, by line 7 the Trojan War has been decided upon, and there is simply no room for the additional events. [10] Momus’ status as brother of Nemesis and Eris, personifications which certainly loomed large in our poem, is not (pace Jouan 1966:46) suggestive enough to outweigh these crucial considerations.
The tradition related by the A-scholion is not, then, that of our fragment. And this should not unduly surprise us. For we already had independent grounds for treating with caution the subscriptions to many of the ἱστορίαι of the AD scholia. Ed. Schwartz (De Scholiis Homericis ad historiam fabularem pertinentibus [Jahrbuch für Klassische Philologie Suppl. 12 (1881) 405–463]) revealed considerable discrepancies between the preceding narratives and the authorship notes of many—though by no means all—which conclude with the phrase ἡ ἱστορία παρὰ. Schwartz says nothing about our own example, which is in any case a little different because it continues on an ampler scale than most subscriptions to conclude with a direct quotation: ἡ δὲ ἱστορία παρὰ Στασίνωι … εἰπόντι οὕτως ἦν ὅτε κτλ. Van der Valk (1963:303–312) restates and develops Schwartz’s findings and deduces (p. 303) that “his main thesis is correct”; he comments on our own passage that the source here [11] “is not misleading us this time, for he refers to [i.e. quotes from] the Cypria and thus enables us to verify his statements. He only wished to observe that the Cypria also related the event” (p. 312). See too Severyns “Sur le début,” 10–11 (“plus souvent qu’on ne le croit, il arrive que le texte d’un fragment cité a l’appui ne corresponde pas au ‘chapeau’ qui lui sert d’annonce”). The actual source of the fuller tradition is not our business and is anyway unknowable, but Pearson’s guess [12] (The Fragments of Sophocles 2.77) that it coincides with the subject matter of Sophocles’ satyr-play Momus (cf. Radt, TrGF 4.351–352) is an obvious possibility.
To sum up: our fragment very probably belongs near the beginning of the Cypria, and can easily be connected to the first sentence of the Proclan summary of that poem if we suppose that Zeus followed his decision to cause the Trojan War by consulting Themis as to how. Our fragment does not, however, totally correspond to the fuller tradition preserved in the narrative of the scholion. Nor is it cited as if it did so correspond: there are some similarities but also obvious differences between the two accounts, and our fragment is merely quoted to show that the Cypria too contained a reference to Zeus’ plan.
F1, then, exemplifies several literary patterns. In the first place, it is the most extreme instance of attempts to identify an “ultimate cause” of the Trojan War. Other such attempts trace its origin back to the hatching of Helen out of her egg (see pages 77–79 below), the Judgment of Paris (see pages 73–75), or the anger of Aphrodite against Tyndareus and his daughters. For other examples and discussion see Davies and Finglass on Stesichorus fr. 85, which employs the last-mentioned motif. Our passage, however, represents a causation stretching the furthest back in time and is also the most “cosmic.” This brings us to the next point.
As early as the mid-nineteenth century, R. Köhler (“Zu den Kyprien,” Rheinisches Museum 13 [1858]: 316–317) compared the motif of the gods’ destruction of mankind by catastrophe with the flood narratives in Genesis and the Māhābhārāta. More recently, scholars have observed the similarity between the plan of Zeus in the Cypria and Sumerian and other Near Eastern passages in literature: see e.g. M. Marcovich, “Bedeutung des Motive des Volksglaubens,” Studies in Greek Poetry 1990:5–13. R. Scodel (“The Achaean Wall and the Myth of Destruction,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 86 [1982]: 40–50) compares such Eastern prototypes, especially the Babylonian epic of Atrahasis (cf. W. G. Lambert and A. R. Millard, Atrahasis: The Babylonian Story of the Flood [Oxford 1969] 66–67 and 72–73) where the noise of mankind disturbs the gods and prompts them to reduce humanity by plague and famine. For more recent analysis of this comparative material see W. Burkert, Die orientalisierende Epoche in der gr. Religion und Literatur (Sitzungsberichte der Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften phil.-hist. Klasse 1 [1984] 95–99 = The Orientalising Revolution: Near Eastern Influence on Greek Culture in the Early Archaic Age, 100–106) and West, The East Face of Helicon (Oxford 1997) 480–482 and Indo European Poetry and Myth (Oxford 2007) 23. Cf. K. Mayer 1996.
On Genesis’s, the Māhābhārāta’s, and other ancient flood narratives see G. A. Caduff, Antike Sintflutsagen (Hypomnemata 82 [1986]), and more specifically Claus Westermann’s commentary on the former (Genesis: An Introduction [Minneapolis 1984] 384–458). A further parallel for the Cypria’s general design, one from Greek literature this time, has been generally available since 1907. It occurs within the Hesiodic Κατάλογος γυναικῶν: after the list of Helen’s suitors the tempo accelerates rapidly: Menelaus marries Helen, Helen produces Hermione, and we are abruptly transported to Olympus, where we are privileged with an insight into the deliberations of Zeus (fr. 204.95–101 MW).
As West observes, “Zeus is planning a world catastrophe, for he wishes the ἡμίθεοι, the children of the gods, whose birth and descendants form the subject of the Hesiodic Catalogues, to be able to live as formerly, undefiled by contact with mortals like us. The catastrophe by means of which this will be achieved can be nothing but the Trojan War. Helen is newly married to Menelaus, and every chieftain in Greece (except Achilles, who was still a child) has sworn to make war on anyone who seduces her. All is ready—Zeus only needs a seducer” (“Hesiodea,” Classical Quarterly 11 [1961]: 133). On the sadly lacunose verses that follow see West (pp. 133–134): the poet seems to have connected the Trojan War with the origin of seafaring, and Apollo seems to be credited with the fulfillment of his father’s will [13] —which, however, he does not fully comprehend. See further West’s The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women (1985) 119–121. The resemblance to the Cypria’s Διὸς βουλή is obvious. [14] In the Catalogue, of course, the general plan has a different application, to wit the total annihilation of the generation of heroes. In the Cypria, by contrast, Zeus’ purpose is merely the relief of the earth.
It is indeed possible to exaggerate the correspondences between the two passages, and this, I think, is what K. Stiewe has done in “Die Entstehungszeit der hesiodeischen Frauenkataloge II,” Philologus 107 (1963): 1–29. He argues (p. 5) that the similarities extend to positioning, for he claims that in both poems the plan is given prominence by its location near the start of a book. But the diple and the stichometric in front of Hesiod fragment 204.94 more plausibly refer not to the start of a second book but to the line’s position as two hundredth within a given book: see West 1985:34 and n14. In addition to the above-mentioned similarities, Hesiod fr. 204.95–96 MW (πάντες δὲ θεοὶ δίχα θυμὸν ἔθεντο | ἐξ ἔριδος) is claimed as an echo of the role played by Eris in the Cypria preparatory to the Judgment of Paris. But even if this interpretation could be proved correct as against Wilamowitz’s exegesis—whereby ἐξ ἔριδος is appositional to and explanatory of the immediately preceding phrase [15] —we would have no means of proving that the detail derives from that specific poem the Cypria rather than from the general tradition which underlies it.
Nor should we accept Stiewe’s claim that the brevity and allusiveness of the Catalogue’s reference to Zeus’ general plan presupposes the Cypria’s fuller treatment as model. This is merely one instance among many of the Catalogue’s “abbreviated-reference style” [16] which has become more familiar with the discovery of more fragments. And if we think the very use of such a style posits an extensive background knowledge on the audience’s part, then once again the assumption that this knowledge is owed to the Cypria and not to the general underlying tradition constitutes circularity of argument. Stiewe’s remaining point seems to prove the opposite of what he imagines: in the Hesiodic fragment, he claims, Zeus forms his plans alone, without consulting the other gods, in a manner reminiscent of his behavior in the Iliad and the Odyssey: “Das konnte bedeuten, dass der Dichter ein bereits gegebenes Motif aufgreift.” But does not the Cypria’s Zeus take note of the Earth’s plight in coming to his decision? And does he not very probably (see pp. 26–27) consult with Themis as to how it may be brought about? Hesiod fr. 204 cannot be directly dependent upon the Cypria: we should not overemphasize the points of contact between the two. The likeliest explanation of the undeniable analogies noted above would be to suppose that the two poems independently drew upon ancient Near Eastern material for their central motif. [17] For a (to me unconvincing) suggestion that the Cypria’s “Trojan War is…analogous to the [Hesiodic] first winter: a precedent which is then eternally repeated” see Mayer 1996.
Content
Many scholars who are (consciously or not) warriors in the great cause of Geistes-geschichte have drawn far-reaching conclusions from the Cypria’s use of this Near Eastern motif. For instance, M. Untersteiner in La Filologia del Mito2 (Florence 1972) 171 sees the so-called proem as an expression of the new age which sought to explain and give sense to everything (cf. Stinton 1965:8 = 22n26: “the encyclopaedic spirit of the age”). Only a little differently K. Schefold 1978:274 = 1990:307: “an idea that presupposes a philosophical pessimism unthinkable before Solon’s time.”
1. ἦν ὅτε : “once upon a time…” As Welcker remarks (2.85), “so alt ist der Anfang im Erzählen: es war einmal.” [18] But that is no reason to deduce, as Welcker and others have done (see page 17n4 above) that we have here the very first words of the epic: see, for instance, Moschion TrGF 1.97 F 6.3, where the phrase ἦν γάρ ποτ’ αἰῶν κεῖνος does not stand at the beginning of the λόγος. Kranz (1961:7 = 1967:30) observed that an invocation to the Muse(s) could easily have preceded our phrase in the manner of the Odyssey’s proem: cf. Odyssey i.10–11 τῶν ἁμόθεν γε, θεά,… εἴπε καὶ ἡμῖν. | ἔνθ’ ἄλλοι μὲν πάντες ὅσoι φύγον αἰπὺν ὄλεθρον κτλ. The contrast with Homer is still immense. For examples of similar phrases (ἦν χρόνος, etc.) at the head of an hexameter (sometimes, perhaps, under the influence of our line) and in prose see O. Kern, Fragmenta Orphica (Berlin 1922) 303–304 and T. Karadagli, Fabel und Ainos: Studien zur gr. Fabel (Beiträge zur klassischen Philologie 135 [1981]) 168 and n3, 184n1; cf. Norden, Agnostos Theos: Untersuchungen zur Formengeschichte religiöser Rede (Leipzig 1913) 370–371. To their instances add Palatine Anthology 16.270.1–2 ἦν χρόνος, ἡνίκα γαῖα βροτοὺς, διὰ σεῖο, Γαληνέ, | δέχνυτο μὲν θνητούς, ἔτρεφε δ’ ἀθανάτους and Lucian 24 (Icaromenippus) 24 (1.304 Macleod), where the phrase ἦν γάρ ποτε χρόνος is placed in Zeus’ mouth; [19] also Euphorion SH 415 i 13 ἦν ὅτε. φῦλα…ἀνδρῶν / ἀνθρώπων: the phrase is inadequately exemplified in LSJ s.v. φῦλον (the φῦλον/-α θεῶν are particularly common: see West on Hesiod Theogony 202). As Pfeiffer has pointed out (“Vom Schlaf des Erde und Tiere,” Hermes 87 [1959]: 3), this use of φῦλον (more frequently φῦλα) consistently requires the gen. or an adj. equivalent to a gen. (e.g. γυναικεῖον φ: Pfeiffer regards this alternative as a late Attic development, but cf. Alcman fr. 106 PMGF φῦλα βροτήσια, Iliad XIX.30 ἄγρια φῦλα, μυίας with ΣΤ ad loc. [4.579 Erbse]: ἀντὶ τοῦ μυιῶν, and my remarks in “Alcman fr. 106 P,” Rheinisches Museum 133 [1990]: 405–406). For μυρία φῦλα cf. Iliad XVII.220. χθόνᾰ πλαζόμεν ’: an interesting example of correptio Attica. On the phenomenon as a whole see G. M. Kirkwood, “The Authorship of the Strasbourg Epodes,” Transactions of the American Philological Association 92 (1961): 272–273, R. Führer, “Muta cum Liquida bei Stesichoros,” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 28 (1978): 180–181, W. S. Allen, Accent and Rhythm (Cambridge 1973) 211–219, Parlato 2007a:26–27. Homer’s instances are restricted to proper names or the ubiquitous formula ἔπεα πτεροέντα προσηύδα (cf. Kirkwood 272n20). The closest parallels to our specimen are Odyssey xi.583 προσε̆πλαζε (metrically necessary, and from the suspect passage describing Tantalus’ punishment in the Nekyia) and the Strasbourg epode (Hipponax fr. 115.4 W): κύμ[ατῐ] πλα[ζόμ]ενος. κατὰ χθόνα: the phrase is unHomeric, though found in Homeric Hymn to Hermes 68 and 410 (genitive).
1–2. Numerous attempts have been made to fill out the remainder of verse line 1 and the start of verse line 2. They are handily listed in Ludwich, “Textkritische Untersuchungen,” 12 (he overlooks Wilamowitz’s πλαζόμεv’ [ἀνδρῶν | ἐκπάγλως ὕβριζε] (Analecta Euripidea 224n1 in the wake of Barnes and Welcker). Add now [ἀνδρῶν| δυσσεβέων ἐβάρυνε] (Diels 1921:8). φῦλον/-α ἀνθρώπων would be better paralleled than φῦλον/-α ἀνδρῶν as Peppmüller (Neue Jahrbüche für Philologie und Pädagogik 133 [1885]: 832) observed. See esp. Homeric Hymn to Demeter 352, on Demeter’s plan φθῖσαι φῦλ’ ἀμενηνὰ χαμαιγενεών. Richardson ad loc. says φῦλ. ἀνθρ. “occurs in Homer only in the Odyssey and is common in the Hymns and Hesiod.” The details given by Friis Johansen and Whittle on Aeschylus Supplices 543–544 show that the first part of Richardson’s statement needs modification. But Ebert’s αἰει is easily the most attractive suggestion: (a) paleographically, with a saute du même au même in the sequence ENA(AIEI)AN ; (b) rhetorically, since fables (see n18 above and 3n below) often use the word ἀεί at their start to establish the situation: e.g. Babrius 31.2 and 6, 39.1, 63.4; or 25.1, 92.3, 112.2 and 174.1 in Hausrath’s Aesop’s fables; and descriptions of the emotion of pity often motivate it by reference to the plight of the victim always having to endure something: see esp. the start of Stesichorus’ Iliupersis, where Athena takes pity on Epeius because he is always carrying water: see Davies and Finglass on Stesichorus fr. 100.18).
Boissonade’s βάρυνε has found much favor, partly because it offers an explanation of the corruption of βαθυστέρνου (ἐβάρ[υνε βαθ]υστέρνου Peppmüller as cited), largely because it seems to be implied by βαρουμένην in Σ’s paraphrase. But the corruption is easy anyway (see next note) and we must not automatically assume that this part of the Σ directly reflects the Cypria’s narrative (see page 19 above).
2. βαθυστέρνου … αἴης: see Ludwich, “Textkritische Untersuchungen,” 6–7 for the four early editions of Homer and his scholia (he calls them l, a, v and w) which print this correction. The first is the edition of the Σχόλια παλαιὰ τῶν πάνυ δοκίμων εἰς τὴν Ὁμήρου Ἰλιάδα (Rome 1517) produced by J. Lascaris (on whom see B. Kös, Un ambassadeur de 1’hellénisme: Janus Lascaris (Stockholm 1945), J. Whittaker, “Parisinus Graecus 1962 and the Writings of Albinus,” Phoenix 28 (1974): 320–357 and “Parisinus Graecus 1962 and Janus Lascarus,” Phoenix 31 (1977) 239–244). For examples of the corruption of βαθ- to βαρ- see Friis Johansen and Whittle on Aeschylus Supplices 2. The conjecture is confirmed by Pindar Nemean IX 24–25 ὁ δ Ἀμφιαρεῖ σχίσσεv κεραυνῶι παμβίαι | Zεὺς τὰν βαθύστερνον χθόνα. See too Ηymn Orph. 26.6 Quandt and the first line of Simias’ Πτέρυγες (Palatine Anthology 15.24.1 = Powell, Collectanea Alexandrina, fr. 24 (p. 116) = Gow, Bucolici Graeci, p. 172 = Fränkel, de Simia Rhod. (diss. Göttingen (1915) fr. 200). Compare Hesiod Theogony 117 (Γαῖ’ εὐρύστερνος) and West ad loc. The epithet is also used of πόντος at Hymn Orph. 17. 3 and 74.3 Quandt. πλάτος: as Wackernagel (1916:182) says, neuter forms like this and βάρος at verse line 6 look like fifth-century developments (though Homer has εὖρος, πάχoς, τάχος: cf. Parlato 2007a:11). The underlying picture of the broad, wide earth is, however, early and popular, and may, indeed, be Indo-European in origin: see Schulze, Quaestiones Epicae p. 488, Schmitt 1967:183n1084, West, Indo-European Poetry and Myth (Oxford 2007) 174–178. αἴης: for this word in epic see M. W. Haslam, “Homeric Words: Two Doublets Examined,” Glotta 54 (1976): 207–111, who concludes that it is a Homeric invention modeled upon πατρίδα γαῖαν. Its position in the hexameters of Homer and Hesiod (Haslam 209n18) is confined, as here, to the final foot. The form seems not to be used of personifications (H. Lloyd-Jones and J. Rea, “Callimachus Fragments 260–261,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 72 [1968]: 136 = Lloyd-Jones, Academic Papers [II] 144), which confirms that we do not here have a picture of Mother Earth personally appealing to Zeus (see page 19 above).
3. Zεὺς δὲ ἰδὼν ἐλέησε: cf. Iliad XV.12 τὸν δὲ ἰδὼν ἐλέησε πατῆρ ἀνδρῶν τε θεῶν τε, XVI.431 τοὺς δὲ ἰδὼν ἐλέησε Κρόνου πάις ἀγκυλομήτεω. Compare, minus the pity, the corresponding motif in Genesis 6.5 “And God saw (that the wickedness of man was great in the earth).” For Zeus as all-seeing deity cf. R. Petazzoni, The All-Knowing God (trans. H. J. Rose [London 1956]), J. Griffin, “The Divine Audience and the Religion of the Iliad,” Classical Quarterly 28 (1978): 1 = 1980:179. On the emotion of pity in early Greek literature in general, and the significance of the verb in this passage in particular see W. Burkert, Zum altgriechischen Mitleidsbegriff (diss. Erlangen 1955) esp. 79–80. On the significance of Zeus’ pity for mortals as expressed in the two Iliadic passages just referred to see Griffin just cited, 2 and 5 = 1980:181–182. The present phrase is suggestive of fable: cf. Aristophanes’ speech in Plato Symp. 191B (ἐλεήσας δὲ ὁ Ζεύς) and note the use of verbs of seeing to initiate an anecdote or popular narrative (see Finglass on Sophocles Ajax 1142–1143). ἐν πυκιναῖς πραπίδεσσι: there is no exact epic parallel. Cf. Iliad XVIII.380 ἰδυίηισι πραπίδεσσι (of Hephaestus). The short form of the dat. pl. suggests “lateness”: cf. Janko, Homer, Hesiod and the Hymns (Cambridge 1982) 54–57 and F4.5n. Contra Parlato 2007a:27–29.
4: For the numerous attempts that have been made to heal this line see Ludwich, “Textkritische Untersuchungen,” 12, to whose examples add σύνθετο κουφίσαι ἀνθρώπων παμβώτορα γαῖαν (Allen p. 118) and σύνθετο κουφίσσαι παμβώτορα γαῖαν ἀνθρώπων (Bethe 1929:155). Best is perhaps σύνθετο κουφίσσαι, παμβώτορα γῆν ἀνθρώπων (Peppmüller as cited 1–2n and Schwyzer, Griechische Grammaτικ 1.264). The form γῆν is often converted to γαῖαν in epic manuscripts: see, for instance, West on Hesiod Theogony 762); or, even better as regards rhythm, κουφίσαι ἀνθρώπων παμβώτορα σύνθετο γαῖαν (W. Ribbeck, “Zu den Fragmenten der Griechischen Epiker,” Rheinisches Museum 33 [1878]: 459, conjectured independently by Ludwich, “Zu den Kypria des Stasinos,” Rheinisches Museum 43 [1888]: 473 (he returned it to Ribbeck in the article cited on page 16 above) and again by West in “Haplography,” Classical Review 15 (1965): 140.
4. κουφίσαι: “lighten of a load,” the sense given in LSJ s.v. II.2, which takes no cognizance of our passage. The earliest example it supplies is Euripides Helen 39–40 ὡς ὄχλου βροτῶν | πλήθους τε κουφίσειε μητέρα χθόνα, obviously an echo of the present line. The intransitive sense (LSJ s.v. I) in Hesiod Works and Days 463 (κουφίζουσαν ἄρουραν), Euripides Helen 1555 (metaphorical: see Kannicht ad loc.), etc. The verb is not in Homer, who has, however, κοῦφα used adverbially (Iliad XIII.158; cf. [Hesiod] Scutum 323) and κουφότερον employed in the same way (Odyssey viii.201). See further Marks 2002:9n26. παμβώτορα: this and the fem. form at Sophocles Philoctetes 391 (παμβῶτι Γᾶ) are the only attestations of this synonym for πάμβοτος, itself not frequent: Aeschylus Supplices 558, cf. fr. 95 Radt quoted in LSJ s.v. Renehan (Greek Lexicographical Notes [Hypomnemata 45 (1975)]) 66 cites a second example of παμβώτις in Hesych. s.v. π. Τύχη (= TrGF 2 F 252). Compare other such epithets for the earth as παμμήτωρ, πανδώτειρα, etc. σύνθετο: the verb does not recur governing an infinitive before the fifth century.
5: “in his hasty proem, the poet compresses things”: West 2013:67, observing that the phrasing overlooks Themis’ subsequent role (see page 35 below). In fact, even the Odyssey’s proem has been though to misrepresent the narrative that actually follows: see S. West’s commentary on the passage. ῥιπίσσας … ἔριν: a very striking metaphor (cf. LSJ s.v. ῥιπίζω: “blow up or fan the flame”), for which the only near parallel would seem to be Aristophanes Frogs 360 στάσιν ἐχθράν … ἀνεγείρει καὶ ῥιπίζει. ῥιπίσσας for ῥιπίσσε is F. A. Wolf’s correction (Homeri Odyssea, cum Batrachomyomachia, Hymnis ceterisque poematis Homero vulgo tributis [Halle 1787]). Diels (1921:8) conjectured ῥίπισέ τε, which would make the sequence of paratactic verbs in this fragment (Ζεὺς δὲ … καὶ … οἱ δ’ … Διὸς δ’) even more unrelieved and monotonous. ‘ Ιλιακοῖο: words ending in -ικος, as Wackernagel again observed (as in line 2n, 1916:18), do occur in Homer, though rarely (cf. Risch, Wortbildung d. homerische Sprache2 163–164). But an adj. with -ιακος ending such as the present does not appear until the fifth century, with Πλουσιακός (Herodotus II 15.4) and Σουνιακός (Herodotus IV 99.16) and in Thucydides Δηλιακός (III 104.5), Διακός (VII 27.1), Διονυσιακός (VIII 93.1), Καρχηδονιακός (VII 50.2), Ὀλυμπιακός (V 9.1). See further West, “A fragment of Prometheus Lyomenos?,” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 113 (1996): 21 and n3. This category of adjs. seems to be modeled on patronymic endings such as -ιαδης and -ιδης (and also on endings such as -ιάς and -ίς) as a variant of the -ικος ending, one that conveniently allows the formation of adjs. derived from nouns ending in -ιος | -ιον (cf. Homeric Ἀσκλήπιος | -ιάδης, Μενοίτιoς | -ιάδης and poetic titles like Ἰλιάς [from Ἴλιον], Θηβαΐς Ἀλκμαιωνίς, etc.). The absence of digamma need not therefore surprise. ’Ιλιακός itself is a rare word, though not so rare as LSJ and its Supplement suppose. Add to their instances the present one, the one cited by Gow–Page on Antiphilus Palatine Anthology 9.192.2 = GP 1004, and the three examples in “Longinus” (9.7, 9.12, 9.13). Schmitt (1990:18–19) speculates that the present instance may represent corruption of an original *Ἰλιικός, which would supply an even more unHomeric adj.
6. κε̆νώσειεν: Homer has only the form κεινός (cf. Wackernagel 1916:182; Odyssey xxii.249 [καὶ δὴ οἱ Μέντωρ μὲν ἔβη κενὰ εὔγματα εἰπών] not a counterexample: cf. Wackernagel 1916:182n1 [κενέ’ Bentley, κείν’ Hermann]). The feature is removed by reinterpretation as κεν ὦσειεν by K. E. Hatzistephanou, Πρακτικά του Β΄ διεθνοῦς Κυπρολογικοῦ συνεδρίου τόμος Α (ed. T. Papadopoulos) (Nicosia 1985) 490–491, but at the cost of supplying far less satisfactory sense. θανάτου: κενόω can govern a genitive, but only when the meaning is “empty x of y,” which would be impossible here. If we retain θανάτου we must translate “so that the load [weight] of death might empty the world” (so e.g. Evelyn-White’s Loeb text of Hesiod and the Homeric Hymns p. 497, Huxley, Greek Epic Poetry [London 1969] 129). This may not be quite impossible (for Θάνατος as a βαρὺς δαίμων see Iliad XXI.548, Kaibel epigr. 257.3, epigr. add. 497A.8–9) but the sense provided by the emendations listed is infinitely preferable: θανάτωι Lascaris as cited in 2n, or plural θανάτοις Wassenbergh, Homeri Iliadis liber I et II (1783) comparing Euripides Orestes 1641–1642 θανάτους τ᾽ ἔθηκαν (scil. θεοί), ὡς ἀπαντλοῖεν χθονὸς | ὕβρισμα θνητῶν ἀφθόνου πληρώμαχος. ἐνῐ Τροίηι: on the variation between disyllabic and trisyllabic Τροίη in epic see Davies and Finglass on Stesichorus fr. 100.15–16. Observe (with Schulze, Quaestiones Epicae 406) that Homer does not employ ἐνὶ Τροΐηι at the end of the verse as here.
6–7. οἱ δ ’ ἐνὶ Τροίηι | ἥρωες κτείνοντο: the first phrase means “at” or “before” Troy, as in Iliad II.161–162 ἧς (scil. Ἑλένης) εἵνεκα πολλοὶ Ἀχαιῶν | ἐν Τροίηι ἀπόλοντο. Cf. W. S. Barrett, Greek Lyric, Tragedy, and Textual Criticism: Collected Papers, ed. M. L. West (Oxford 2007) 331–332. For the usual signification of ἥρως in epic see West’s commentary on Hesiod Works and Days, pp. 370–371. As he says, “in several places the most suitable meaning is ‘warrior,’ ” and this would seem true of the present passage: compare the common Iliadic phrase ἥρωας Ἀχαιούς with πολλοὶ ‘Αχαιῶν | ἐν Τροίηι ἀπόλοντο cited above. It then becomes hard to decide whether the definite article in οἱ … ἥρωες here is a “late” feature or means “the famous ἥρωες.”
7. |ἥρωες κτείνοντο: cf. Odyssey xi.521| Κήτειοι κτείνοντο. Διὸς δ ’ ἐτελείετο βουλή: apart from Iliad I.5 and Odyssey xi.276, which display the identical phrase, cf. [Hesiod] Theogony 1002 μεγάλου δὲ Διὸς νόoς ἐξεχελεῖτο |, Homeric Hymn to Hermes 10 ἀλλ’ ὅτε δὴ μεγάλοιο Διὸς νόος ἐξετελεῖτο, J. A. Notopoulos, “Studies in Early Greek Oral Poetry,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 68 (1964): 33–34, Friis Johansen and Whittle on Aeschylus Supplices 59. “The phrase must mark the end of the proem and the transition to systematic narrative”: West 2013:68.
Of course no one nowadays automatically supposes that one occurrence of a formula is necessarily meant to remind us of another: no one has endeavored to argue, for instance, that Odyssey xi 276 is inspired by or the inspirer of the Iliad’s or the Cypria’s example. But for reasons given above, it is more than likely that the two passages each occurred near the start of their respective poems, and so the possibility of direct imitation becomes a very real issue. External evidence on the relative dating of the two poems is very pertinent of course; but it will be more revealing to forget about this and try to decide the issue on its own merits.
There are only two possibilities, as detailed in the following two sections.
The Priority of the Cypria’s Phrase [20]
This has been most strongly argued by Kullmann, “Ein vorhomerisches Motiv im Iliasproöomium,” Philologus 99 (1955): 167–192 and “Zur Διὸς βουλή des Ilias Proömium,” Philologus 100 (1956): 132–133 = Homerische Motive: 11–35 and 36–37. [21] The thesis fits in, clearly enough, with his whole attitude to the question of the dating of the two poems. Now if the Iliad has borrowed the phrase from the Cypria, it can have changed the phrase’s signification beyond all recognition or it can have retained the original connection with Zeus’ plan to lighten the earth’s burden. Against this second possibility stands one immediate and obvious obstacle: there is no explicit reference, in the whole length and breadth of the Iliad, to any such plan. This obstacle is not totally unsurmountable: Kullmann has to assume an analogy with the significance of the Judgment of Paris in the Iliad as interpreted by Karl Reinhardt (in the important article mentioned page 71 below in connection with that episode in the Cypria): [22] for whatever reason, the motif, though presupposed by the whole poem, is never directly mentioned, but merely alluded to in passing, more or less obliquely. Kullmann puts forward eleven passages in which he detects an Iliadic allusion to the Cypria’s Διὸς βουλή (II 3–4, 37–40; XI 52–55; XII 13–16, 20–27; XIII 222–227; XIV 83–89; [23] XVII 647; XIX 86–89, 270–274; XX 21). I am not the only scholar to find none of these convincing. [24] In brief: there is no reason whatsoever why the first three should not refer to Zeus’ pledge to Thetis to help Achilles [25] (note especially the terms proposed by Thetis at Iliad I 503–510). The two passages from Book XII (esp. 13–14 and 20–21) are merely irrelevant, as are the two from Book XIX.
All the other passages but one are immediately explicable in terms of “the rhetoric of the situation.” A remark like Achilles’ in Iliad XXI 273, asking Zeus why no god will pity him, needs no complex explanation in terms of a veiled divine master plan. Most soldiers fighting a war must feel at one time or another that its only purpose is to satisfy some malignant god’s thirst for blood.
We are left with XX 21, which, far from supporting Kullmann’s thesis, undermines it. The sympathetic tone of Zeus’ μέλουσι μοι ὀλλύμενοί περ is at odds with any preconceived plan to wipe men off the face of the earth regardless. This theme of the irreconcilability of the Cypria’s Διὸς βουλή might be taken further. It is not merely that “a reference so obscure would be intolerable in a poem where the main motives are superbly clear” (C. M. Bowra, Tradition and Design in the Iliad [Oxford 1930] 13) and Severyns (“Sur le début,” 11n37): “quelque bonne volonté qu’on y mette, on ne trouve jamais cette notion, pourtant peu banale, clairement et complètement exprimée dans les passages homériques allégués. J’ai peine à croire que, par onze fois, Homère aurait été incapable de se faire comprendre à demi-mot.” It is also that the arbitrary folktale character of the Cypria’s device is quite at odds with the complex presentation of a grim reality that is the Iliad’s contribution to literature.
Since Kullmann has failed to produce any convincing Iliadic allusion to the plan to ease the earth’s load, we must reject his hypothesis. That the external evidence would normally lead us to date the Cypria after the Iliad is a welcome confirmation of the correctness of this approach.
The Priority of the Iliad ’s Phrase [26]
In this case we must decide what significance the Διὸς βουλή possessed for the poet and the audience of the Iliad. [27] In spite of Kullmann’s eloquent advocacy, I see no grounds for the insistence that βουλή here must signify “einen Konkreten festumgrentzten Plan” and cannot refer to “einem unbestimmten Ratschluss des Zeus.” [28] Hesiod is fond of adding that a given event occurs “by the will of Zeus” (see West on Hesiod Works and Days 99) in order to stress its importance. Such a device is especially appropriate to the commencement of an epic narrative (cf. Richardson on Homeric Hymn to Demeter 9), [29] where a degree of impressive dignity is in order. In the Iliad the phrase’s sonorous dignity brings the list of the effects of Achilles’ anger to a solemn close. [30] Besides, by definition, all events that occur in the world take place κατὰ βουλήν Διός (as Wilamowitz paraphrases our words); cf. Dodds, The Greeks and the Irrational, p. 3. I am again at odds with Kullmann when I find the closest parallel for this impressive and striking commencement in the final words of a play by a poet justly called Ὁμηρικώτατος: Sophocles Trachiniae 1278 κοὐδὲν τούτων ὅτι μὴ Ζεύς. See too Aeschylus Agamemnon 1485–1488 ἰὼ ἰή, διαὶ Διὸς | παναιτίου πανεργέτα· | τί γὰρ βροτοῖς ἄνευ Διὸς τελεῖται; | τί τῶνδ’ οὐ θεόκραντόν ἐστιν; [31]
It remains to define more precisely the relationship between the Iliadic and the Cypria’s use of this key phrase. The Cypria must intend some significant point by its reminiscence of the Iliad’s proem. [32] Bowra (Tradition and Design in the Iliad, 13) talked in terms of a deliberate misinterpretation of the relevant words. The notion of some sort of conscious development of an original kernel is advanced by Schadewaldt, Iliasstudien (Leipzig 1938) 134n3, and also Von Homers Welt und Werk (Stuttgart 1944) 453 (n1 to p. 176). The best summing-up of the position known to me is Griffin’s (1977:48 = 2001:384):
The Cyclic poet felt the need to spell out fully the effective Homeric hint, and so the story was told of Zeus planning to reduce the over-population of the world by means of the Trojan War. The idea is of a distressing thinness and flatness, dissolving the Iliad’s imposing opaqueness to an all too perspicuous “rationality”; the whole story is thus made predetermined, and a sort of unity is imposed upon it, of a rather superficial sort.
Though approaching the issue from a different angle, J. Marks reaches a very similar conclusion, finding the Cypria’s use of the “all-embracing” phrase to be “transparent” and the Iliad’s use “enigmatic” (2002:3 and 20).
The whole idea hardly caught the imagination of later writers: for a full list (with discussion) of Euripidean references to this divine master plan see Jouan 1966:41–45. But as Severyns observes (“Sur le début,” 12): “En dehors d’Euripide, je ne vois aucun grand auteur grec qui aurait repris amplifié ou repoussé la légende racontée dans les Chants Cypriens. C’est comme si l’épisode avait eu peu d’écho—sauf chez quelques professionels, érudits ou mythographes.”
Proclus Chrestomathia: Ζεὺς βουλεύεται μετὰ τῆς Θέμιδος [33] περὶ τοῦ Τρωϊκοῦ πολέμου.
Zeus confers with Themis concerning the Trojan War.
On this phrase see in particular the pellucid discussion by Severyns, “Sur le début,” 5–7. The context of Zeus’ deliberations and their most likely contents have already received some preliminary thought in connection with F1 of the Cypria. There we saw (page 20 above) that there need be no contradiction between the direct citation and Proclus. Before returning to that topic, there is another question to ask and answer: in what ways was Themis considered an appropriate deity to advise Zeus on the outbreak of the Trojan War? Scholars have produced widely differing solutions to this problem, and the differences reflect their disagreement over the original function of Themis as concept and deity. Even if we possessed the ipsissima verba of the poem rather than Proclus’ resumé there would be no guarantee of unanimity on this episode’s significance. Here I have space only to outline some of the more plausible interpretations. [34] R. Hirzel, Themis, Dike und Verwandtes (Leipzig 1907) 2–3, and V. Ehrenberg, Die Rechtsidee im frühen Griechentum (Leipzig 1921) 37–38 saw the passage in the light of their respective convictions that the basic meaning of themis is “counsel” or “advice.” They specifically rejected the relevance of any moral criterion for our passage. In contrast, Kurt Latte (RE s.v. Θέμις [5A 2 (1934)]: 1627 = Kleine Schriften 141) suggested the goddess’s name was significant and symbolic: “Es war θ., der herkömmliche und zu erwartende Lauf des Geschehens, dass der Troische Krieg entbrannte.” And he supposed the whole idea to be equivalent to what is expressed in the phrase Διὸς δ᾽ ἐτελείετο βουλή.
H. Vos, ΘΕΜΙΣ (Assen 1956) 53–55 believed that Latte had foisted an impossible meaning upon the word and preferred (thus returning to the views of earlier scholars) to detect a much more overtly ethical significance in Themis’ role: this goddess gives advice to Zeus because the Trojan War is a just and righteous war. [35] Of course it was already this in the Iliad (cf. Lloyd-Jones, The Justice of Zeus [Berkeley 1971] 5–8; Griffin 1980:5–6, etc.) but the more open and specific stress might be thought characteristic of later epic. For a negative presentation of the idea Vos, ΘΕΜΙΣ, 55 compares the admittedly late testimony of Antonius Liberalis 19, where Themis and the Moirae prevent Zeus from doing what is οὐ … ὅσιον.
Vos would see in our poem the first instance of Θέμις as representing Zeus’ good advisor, a picture which, again controverting Latte (“Der Rechtsgedanke im archaïschen Griechentum,” Antike und Abendland 1.2 [1946]: 67 = Kleine Schriften 239), Vos finds to be by no means immemorably ancient but rather an invention of the late sixth century, perhaps of the Cypria itself. Here the situation is certainly more complex than he allows, since we must take into account the Iliadic picture of Zeus as protector of the themites (see Ehrenberg, Rechtsidee, 36, Lloyd-Jones, J ustice of Zeus, 7, etc.).
It is true that Themis is only explicitly attested in her role as Zeus’ good advisor at a relatively late stage: cf. Homeric Hymn XXIII 1–3 Ζῆνα θεῶν τὸν ἄριστον ἀείσομαι ἠδὲ μέγιστον, | εὐρύοπα, κρείοντα, τελεσφόρον, ὅς τε Θέμιστι | ἐγκλιδὸν ἑζομένηι πυκινοὺς ὀάρους ὀαρίζει with Sikes and Allen ad loc.; Plutarch Alexander 52 τὴν Δίκην ἔχει πάρεδρον ὁ Ζεὺς καὶ τὴν Θέμιν ἵνα πᾶν τὸ πραχθὲν ὑπὸ τοῦ κρατοῦντος θεμιτὸν ἦι καὶ δίκαιον; cf. West on Hesiod Works and Days 259.
For the regular association of Zeus with Themis see, for instance, Hirzel, Themis, Dike und Verwandtes, 2–9 (esp. 5–6); Ehrenberg, Rechtsidee, index s.v. “Zeus”; L. Weniger in Roscher s.v. “Themis” (5.575); Jane Harrison, Themis: A Study of the Social Origins of Greek Religion (Cambridge 1912) 518–519. On this reading, the highly significant name of Nemesis within the same poem (page 82 below) becomes more than a merely formal parallel: if Themis gives advice concerning an expedition launched for the sake of Nemesis’ daughter, a righteous war descends upon Troy and the entire sense of the poem is affected by the symbolism. Compare the remarks of B. C. Dietrich, Death, Fate, and the Gods (London 1965) 168.
A word of warning on the possible origins of Themis’ role as thus reconstructed: Themis does feature as an early wife of Zeus (Hesiod Theogony 901; Pindar fr. 30 Sn.; cf. Pausanias IX 25.4), but though this may have inspired the general tradition of their consultation, it is hardly likely to be pertinent to the Cypria (where Hera is Zeus’ wife and important as such for the plot: see page 41n48 below). Still less need we resort to Themis’ links with Gaea (on which see Dietrich, Death, Fate, 169–170) [36] or her occasional equivalence to that deity (Aeschylus Eumenides 2–4; Prometheus Bound 209–210; Harrison, Themis, 385–387) and her status as earth goddess in her own right (cf. Robert, Heldensage 1074n2). [37] A far more likely explanation of the story’s origin lies very near to hand. We shall shortly have cause to examine the mythical tradition wherein Themis resolved the rivalry between Zeus and his brother Poseidon for the hand of Thetis by enunciating the sombre prophecy that the son of Thetis would be mightier than his father (see page 36 below). Lesky (RE s.v. “Peleus” [1938] 298), having supplied good reasons for supposing that this version is (a) alien to that used by the Cypria (F2: see page 38 below) and (b) earlier than it, proceeds to suggest that the poet of the Cypria has transferred this motif from the story of Thetis to the start of his epic, just as Thetis’ metamorphoses are transferred to Nemesis’ flight from Zeus (see page 81 below).
Themis’ deliberations with Zeus seem to have been represented on two artifacts, one now lost and one still extant. The former is the famous Sybarite himation mentioned by [Aristotle] De mirabilibus auscultationibus 96.838A: on this “masterpiece of Greek tapestry,” its date and all connected problems see especially P. Jacobsthal, “A Sybarite Himation,” Journal of Hellenic Studies 58 (1938): 205–216 (cf. D. S. Robertson’s note with the same title, in Journal of Hellenic Studies 59 [1939]: 136). The latter relevant object is the pelike dating from the start of the second half of the fourth century and now in St. Petersburg (St. 1793: ARV 1476.2: LIMC s.v. “Themis” G 17, with bibliography, esp. Raab 1972:114n31). Both supply the central figures of Zeus and Themis with abundant company: each seems to have added Athena and Aphrodite; but while the vase can boast Peitho, Hermes, and Selene, it is Hera and Apollo that are the garment’s particular contributions. Because of these supernumerary figures Latte (RE 5 A2 [1934]: 1626 = 141) suggested that in the Cypria Themis’ advice was given in the context of a more general assembly of the gods such as she graces in Iliad XX 4–6. The argument against this is not that Proclus’ phrasing is hardly indicative of so general a gathering; nor even that F1 of the Cypria allows no such advice (so Kullmann 1955:182 = Homerische Motive, 25–26). [38] It is rather that the accumulation of numerous relevant (and less relevant) figures around a central pair is a common decorative device on Greek vases and other artifacts (see Davies, Aethiopis, 32). I see no reason to deny that these artifacts both derived from the Cypria. I see every conceivable reason for doubting whether they effectively add any new information as to the context of the deliberations between Themis and Zeus in the Cypria.
So much for why Themis should advise Zeus. What did she advise him? We saw (page 18 above) that this part of Proclus’ summary could be reconciled with F1 of the Cypria if we suppose that Themis guided Zeus’ original decision to cause the Trojan War by giving specific advice on the means of causing it. This advice would most naturally involve the Judgment of Paris, and we just so happen to possess some independent evidence to connect Themis with the latter event. At least the most natural interpretation of Plato Republic 379E (θεῶν ἔριν τε καὶ κρίσιν διὰ Θέμιτός τε καὶ Διός) detects in it a reference to the Judgment of Paris, and so it has been taken by H. L. Ahrens, Die Gӧttin Themis (Programme d. Lyceum Hannover [1862/4]) 16 and 22, and Ehrenberg, Rechtsidee, 37n4, among others. [39]
This hypothesis might be thought to receive some confirmation from a second vase featuring Themis (St. Petersburg St. 1807: ARV 1185.7 = B16 in Raab’s 1972 catalogue; LIMC s.v. “Themis” G 18 with bibliography, esp. Raab 1972:115n32). This vase shows her and Eris together in the upper world while the Judgment of Paris is arbitrated upon earth. Its relevance for Themis’ role in the Cypria is particularly stressed by Ehrenberg, Rechtsidee, 37 and Severyns, “Sur le début,” 5 and denied by Hirzel, Themis, Dike und Verwandtes, 3n2. This work can be dated to some time toward the end of the fifth century. As with the vase discussed below (page 50), we may take this artifact to be in some sense dependent upon the Cypria. And, again as with that vase, it would be a mistake to exaggerate this dependence. Not only must we take into account the usual shorthand technique of the artist whereby two or even three scenes can be simultaneously combined: in the present case the aim may be to convey the information that the Judgment was ultimately caused by Themis and Eris.
We must also allow for the phenomenon only just discussed (page 35 above) whereby more and more subsidiary figures may be successively introduced as foils to the central encounter. It seems especially true of the Judgment of Paris (see Raab 1972:37) that from about the end of the fifth century, vase painters of this scene like to complicate the picture by adding extra figures.
The same is true in all likelihood of another vase of similar subject and date showing Eris (this time without Themis) looking down upon the scene from Olympus (see page 57 below).
F2 Philodemus
Philodemus De pietate, in Hercul. voll. coll. alt. VIII 105 7 sqq. (vid. W. Luppe, “Zeus und Thetis in Philodem 1602 V,” Museum Helveticum 43 [1986]: 61–67):
ὁ τ]ὰ Κύπ[ρια γράψας | τῆι Ἥ]ραι χαρ[ιζομέ|νη]ν φεύγειν αὐ[τὴν | τὸ]ν γάμον Δ[ιός. τὸν | δ’ | ὀ]μόσαι χολω[θέ|ντ]α, διότι θνη[τῶι |〈αὐτὴν〉| συ-] νοικί͙σει κ[αὶ πα|ρ’ Ἡ]σιόδωι [fr. 210 MW] δὲ κε[ῖται | τ]ὸ παραπλήσ[ιον.
The author of the Cypria says that Hera rewarded [Thetis] for resisting union with Zeus, whereas he, in anger, swore an oath that she would be married off to a mortal. The story also occurs in Hesiod.
de supplementis consulendus Luppe
“The son of Thetis shall be mightier than his father”
Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 13.5: αὖθις δὲ γαμεῖ Θέτιν τὴν Νηρέως [scil. Πηλεὺς] περὶ ἧς τοῦ γάμου Ζεὺς καὶ Ποσειδῶν ἤρισαν, Θέμιδος δὲ θεσπιωιδούσης ἔσεσθαι τὸν ἐκ ταύτης γεννηθέντα κρείττονα τοῦ πατρὸς ἀπέσχοντο. ἔνιοι δέ φασι, Διὸς ὁρμῶντος ἐπὶ τὴν ταύτης συνουσίαν, εἰρηκέναι Προμηθέα τὸν ἐκ ταύτης αὐτῶι γεννηθέντα οὐρανοῦ δυναστεύσειν. τινὲς δὲ λέγουσι Θέτιν μὴ βουληθῆναι Διὶ συνελθεῖν ὡς ὑπὸ Ἥρας τραφεῖσαν, Διὰ δὲ ὀργισθέντα θνητῶι θέλειν αὐτὴν συνοικίσαι. Χείρωνος οὖν ὑποπθεμένου Πηλεῖ συλλαβεῖν καὶ κατασχεῖν αὐτὴν μεταμορφουμένην, ἐπιτηρήσας συναρπάζει, γινομένην δὲ ὁτὲ μὲν πῦρ ὁτὲ δὲ ὕδωρ ὁτὲ δὲ θηρίον οὐ πρότερον ἀνῆκε πρὶν ἢ τὴν ἀρχαίαν μορφὴν εἶδεν ἀπολαβοῦσαν (And in turn Peleus marries Thetis, daughter of Nereus, over union with whom Zeus and Poseidon were at odds. But when Themis proclaimed that the offspring born of Thetis would be mightier than his father they desisted. Some say that, when Zeus was eager for intercourse with her, Prometheus stated that the boy born from her would become ruler of the universe. But some say that Thetis refused intercourse with Zeus, since she had been brought up by Hera, and that Zeus in anger wanted her to marry a mortal. So Chiron suggested to Peleus that he seize hold of her and hold tight despite her resorts to metamorphosis, so he lay in wait for her and seized hold of her and she turned herself first into fire and then into water, and then into a wild beast, but he did not release her until he saw her in her original form).
Praise be to R. Wagner for suggesting as early as 1891 that in Apollodorus’ narrative the third version [40] of Thetis’ escape from a union with Zeus—that introduced by the phrase τινὲς δέ—derived from the Cypria (Wagner, Epitoma Vaticana ex Apollodori Bibliotheca [Leipzig 1891] 171–172). This guess was actually confirmed near the start of the twentieth century, when R. Reitzenstein published the relevant document from Herculaneum, “Die Hochzeit des Peleus und der Thetis,” Hermes 35 (1900): 73–105 with a useful analysis of the variant versions of this part of the saga. Any commentary on our fragment must of necessity concern itself with three main topics: (i) the relationship between the Cypria’s fragment and the more familiar tradition of Themis’ intervention and prophecy; (ii) the relationship between both these versions of the legend and the famous picture of the god-thronged wedding of Peleus and Thetis; (iii) the question of the relationship between all these aforementioned features and what is perhaps the best-known ingredient in the whole saga: the wrestling-bout between Peleus and Thetis on the lonely seashore.
Apart from Reitzenstein’s contribution there is a very useful collection of all the relevant passages from ancient literature and a bibliography of previous discussion by Albin Lesky in RE 19 (1938): s.v. “Peleus,” 284.39–67 and a limpid synthesis and explanation of this material by the same scholar in “Peleus und Thetis in frühen Epos,” Studi Italiani di Filologia Classica 27/28 (1956): 216–226 = Gesammelte Schriften 401–409. R. Stoneman, “Pindar and the Mythological Tradition,” Philologus 125 (1981): 44–62 has further bibliography (on p. 52) and attempts (unsuccessfully in my view) to overturn the orthodoxy established by Reitzenstein and Lesky.
(i) On the version whereby Themis intervenes to cut short the dispute of Poseidon and Zeus (thus signifying that it is not for the latter’s supremacy to be shattered by an offspring of Thetis), see, in addition to the scholars mentioned above, Kurt Latte in RE 5A 2 (1934): 1627 = Kleine Schriften 141–142. It is obvious that this account is quite incompatible [41] with the scheme of things enunciated in the Cypria: there (to confine ourselves for a moment merely to what F2 explicitly states), a passionate and ardent Zeus finds his advances thwarted by a Thetis eager to please Hera: his love converts to anger, and an oath solemnizes his determination to punish Thetis by marrying her to a mortal. In the version involving Themis’ prophecy (a version which Wilamowitz boldly identified with the Epic Cycle’s Titanomachy) there is no reason or room for anger and therefore no room or reason for punishment: [42] Zeus must be delighted and relieved at the news that Themis brings. (For the reason why and means by which “in Greek myth, the son stronger than Zeus is a threat that does not materialise,” see West on Hesiod Theogony 886–900; cf. Cook, Zeus 3.739.)
What we may call the Themis tradition is clearly of some antiquity: it is referred to by Pindar in Isthmian VIII 27–37, in a characteristically allusive and indirect lyric narrative that presupposes in its audience knowledge of a much fuller account. Besides, Pindar includes in his resumé of this account two details (Chiron’s role as helper [42] and the occurrence of the first, hostile, encounter between Peleus and Thetis … [44]) which Lesky has shown to be part of the oldest form of the Thetis myth (RE 289.42). The tradition is also posited at Prometheus Bound 907–918, where we find transferred to Prometheus’ mouth a series of hints on the rivalry of Poseidon and Zeus and its potential relevance for the overthrow of the latter, which we might well expect Themis originally to have revealed, in a clearer manner and with more kindly intent. Note especially the verbal correspondence between Prometheus Bound 922–927 and Isthmian VIII 32–37. [43]
See too Melanippides fr. 765 PMGF ἐντεῦθεν δὲ Μ. κυούσαν ἀπὸ Διὸς Θέτιν ἐκδοθῆναι Πηλεῖ διὰ τὰ ῥηθέντα ὑπὸ Προμηθέως ἤτοι Θεμίδος. This represents the third version mentioned in Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 13.5. [44] This Themis version would likewise seem to be the source for Apollodorus’ first account, perhaps sifted through the medium of Pherecydes’, as Reitzenstein (“Die Hochzeit,” 74) and Wilamowitz (Pindaros [Berlin 1922] 179) suggest: Pindar would be an unlikely immediate source, since he is not one of Apollodorus’ usual Hauptquellen, and the mythographer’s phrase Χείρωνος οὖν ὑποθεμένου, though obviously related in some way to Pindar’s mention of the centaur’s cave, looks as if it derives rather from an original literary account which both later writers reflect. The original presupposed by these is most likely to be an epic. [45]
Was this epic earlier or later than the Cypria? Most people will doubtless feel that classical scholars have more important tasks than the relative datings of an epic which has disappeared without any direct trace at all, and an epic whose fragments are numerous only by comparison. But the question is potentially an important one, and it will allow us to turn our attention to the second area of investigation.
(ii) The wedding of Peleus and Thetis in both poems: We happen to possess a specific testimony (F3) that this was described in the Cypria: we are told that the gods were present and that Chiron brought a spear as a gift for Peleus. This nicely fits what Proclus tells us in his summary. Now if we combine F2 and F3 of the Cypria (not forgetting the evidence of Proclus) we get a rather odd result: Zeus angrily swears that Thetis shall be punished for rejecting his advances by being made to marry a mortal. And yet when the wedding is celebrated, he and the rest of the gods turn up in full force for all the world as if he had nothing to be vexed and frustrated at, and they had something to be particularly happy about! This is, to put it mildly, a mite anomalous. How much more appropriate would be the attendance of Zeus and all the other deities in the Themis epic! There Zeus has every reason to celebrate his lucky escape from a fate suffered before him by both Cronus and Uranus, as have the other gods to celebrate the averting of their own overthrow. Both he and they would do well to rejoice over the defusing of Themis’ prophecy by the simple device of making Peleus the father of Thetis’ son.
There can be no certainty concerning poems which have so preponderantly vanished as the two now under discussion. But I strongly agree with Lesky, RE 19, 219–220 = 403–404 (as against e.g. Reitzenstein, “Die Hochzeit,” 77; Latte RΕ 1627 = Kleine Schriften 141; Bethe 1929:230; Stoneman, “Pindar,” 60–61) that the considerations just reviewed make it much likelier that the motif of the mortal marriage graced by the presence of Zeus and the gods belongs far more securely in, and is therefore probably original to, the Themis tradition. Tradition and (probably) poem are therefore likely to predate the Cypria. In one stroke we have answered two questions: Did the lost epic mention the wedding of Peleus and Thetis? Yes. Was this epic earlier than the Cypria or later? Earlier.
On the other hand, there are no adequate grounds for refusing the motif to the Cypria, or for rejecting the numerous testimonia which attribute it to that poem. We must again follow Lesky’s article (see 220 = 404), then, in supposing that the Cypria’s poet took over this preexisting feature despite the surface anomalies already noted, because at least it conveniently allowed for the dramatic intervention of Eris and provided a bridge looking towards the Judgment of Paris. In other words, the motif is put to a new use.
We have not yet milked our fragment quite dry of information. A further implication will lead us to our third area of concern. For if Zeus wishes to punish Thetis for rejecting him out of deference to Hera, will not Hera wish to mitigate the punishment as some sort of reward (harm mitigated being a frequent feature of folktale: see page 38n42 above)? The punishment of marriage to a mortal mitigated by that mortal’s identity as περὶ κῆρι φίλος ἀθανάτοισιν (Iliad XXIV 61; cf. Hesiod fr. 211.3 MW) just as Tiresias’ blindness was eased by the gift of second sight? So we must assume, unless some positive evidence to the contrary accrues. But in fact the available evidence only confirms our initial inference. Particularly important are the words which Hera addresses to Thetis in Apollonius of Rhodes IV 790–797:
ἀλλὰ σε γὰρ δὴ
ἐξέτι νηπυτίης αὐτὴ τρέφον ἠδ’ ἀγάπησα
ἔξοχον ἀλλάων, αἳ τ’ εἰν ἁλὶ ναιετάουσιν,
οὕνεκεν οὐκ ἔτλης εὐνῆι Διὸς ἱεμένοιο
λέξασθαι. κείνωι γὰρ ἀεὶ τάδε ἔργα μέμηλεν
ἠὲ σὺν ἀθανάταις ἠὲ θνητῆσιν ἰαύειν.795
ἀλλ’ ἐμὲ αἰδομένη καὶ ἐνὶ φρεσὶ δειμαίνουσα,
ἠλεύω· ὁ δ᾽ ἔπειτα πελώριον ὅρκον ὄμοσεν.
ἐξέτι νηπυτίης αὐτὴ τρέφον ἠδ’ ἀγάπησα
ἔξοχον ἀλλάων, αἳ τ’ εἰν ἁλὶ ναιετάουσιν,
οὕνεκεν οὐκ ἔτλης εὐνῆι Διὸς ἱεμένοιο
λέξασθαι. κείνωι γὰρ ἀεὶ τάδε ἔργα μέμηλεν
ἠὲ σὺν ἀθανάταις ἠὲ θνητῆσιν ἰαύειν.795
ἀλλ’ ἐμὲ αἰδομένη καὶ ἐνὶ φρεσὶ δειμαίνουσα,
ἠλεύω· ὁ δ᾽ ἔπειτα πελώριον ὅρκον ὄμοσεν.
Compare the picture of Achilles reared by Chiron at IV 812–813 and also IV 869–879 on Thetis’ attempts to make Achilles immortal (see page 198 below). “Apollonios hat die Kyprien selbst gelesen; dass er sie hier benutzt, scheint mir sicher” was Reitzenstein’s verdict (“Die Hochzeit,” 76), [46] and it is all but impossible not to join Lesky (see 216 = 401–402) in following him. Lines 800–804 represent Apollonius’ attempt at combining the Cypria’s account with the more familiar story of Themis’ intervention, but this contamination apart, we can now observe an impressively strong resemblance between Apollonius [47] and the Cypria and the version ascribed to τινες by Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 13.5. The whole sequence (Hera rears Thetis–Thetis rewards her by refusing Zeus’ advances–Hera responds in turn by masterminding the marriage to Peleus) would be highly characteristic of the principle of do ut des which B. K. Braswell, “Mythological Innovation in the Iliad,” Classical Quarterly 21 (1971): 16–26, esp. 23–24, has shown to underlie a large part of Homer’s poetry.
The phrase is used at Iliad XXIV 59 [48] when the same Olympian deity is talking about the same past event (lines 58–63, Hera is upbraiding Apollo):
Ἕκτωρ μὲν θνητός τε γυναῖκά τε θήσατο μαζόν·
αὐτὰρ Ἀχιλλεύς ἐστι θεᾶς γόνος ἣν ἐγὼ αὐτὴ
θρέψα τε καὶ ἀτίτηλα καὶ ἀνδρὶ πόρον παράκοιτιν,60
Πηλέϊ, ὃς περὶ κῆρι φίλος γένετ’ ἀθανάτοισι.
πάντες δ’ ἀντιάασθε, θεοί, γάμου· ἐν δὲ σὺ τοῖσι
δαίνυ’ ἔχων φόρμιγγα, κακῶν ἕταρ’, αἴεv ἄπιστε.
αὐτὰρ Ἀχιλλεύς ἐστι θεᾶς γόνος ἣν ἐγὼ αὐτὴ
θρέψα τε καὶ ἀτίτηλα καὶ ἀνδρὶ πόρον παράκοιτιν,60
Πηλέϊ, ὃς περὶ κῆρι φίλος γένετ’ ἀθανάτοισι.
πάντες δ’ ἀντιάασθε, θεοί, γάμου· ἐν δὲ σὺ τοῖσι
δαίνυ’ ἔχων φόρμιγγα, κακῶν ἕταρ’, αἴεv ἄπιστε.
Wagner, of course, cited these lines to support his guess about Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 13.5 (see page 37 above), and Wilamowitz (“Die Galliamben der Kallimachos,” Hermes 14 [1879]: 201) had already argued that this section presupposed as source some sort of song on the marriage of Peleus and Thetis. We now see that the stress on Hera’s role as Thetis’ kindly nurse and arranger of her wedding fits well with Cypria F2 (cf. Lesky, RE 292.28–33 for the scholars who accept the link). The occurrence of a cryptic allusion to the Judgment of Paris about thirty lines previously (28–31) is unlikely to be coincidence.
Naturally, the question of the chronological relationship between the Iliad and the Cypria is a complex one. In the present case it seems safest to say that there is no obvious reason why we should not suggest that Homer draws upon the tradition [49] which was finally enshrined in that version of the Cypria from which F2 and F3 are excerpted and on which Proclus’ summary draws. To argue (cf. Lesky RE 220 = 404, who is properly open-minded as to the various possibilities) that the above passage from the last book of the Iliad necessarily proves that the Cypria took the detail of Hera and Thetis’ relationship from an earlier poem is to replace one kind of undesirable dogmatism with another.
I asserted above that this line of enquiry would eventually lead us to (iii) the wrestling-match between Peleus and Thetis (cf. Lesky, RE 284–286 for the literary evidence), [50] and so it does. For the Cypria’s particular view of the relationship between Hera and Thetis does, according to Reitzenstein (“Die Hochzeit,” 78), “shatter every attempt to secure the famous Liebesringkampf for our poem.” [51] This is not to deny the extreme antiquity of the two concomitant features of that famous story, the metamorphoses and the marriage to a mortal man of a sea creature. Both are precisely the unreal and miraculous type of feature that the Iliad prefers to exclude from its narrative: see on Homeric aversion to metamorphosis and later poetry’s greater tolerance and even fondness for it. Griffin 1977:41 =369, who follows (n21) Lesky’s original suggestion (RE 288.66) that the Iliad has consciously suppressed the motif in the present case. It is certainly primitive and widespread: for its use to escape the unwelcome attentions of a lover see Thompson, Motif-Index2 642.3; Frazer, Apollodorus 2, appendix 10 (pp. 383–388); Lesky, RE 284–249, etc.
The Odyssey already recounts the shape-changing of Proteus (iv 414–419, etc.), [52] and the Cypria had a parallel scene describing the attempts to escape the clutches and worse of Zeus. [53] The idea of a short-lived union between mortal man and faery creature is also familiar: see Thompson again B 81.2 (mermaid marries man), F 302.2 (man marries faery and takes her to his home), C 31.1.2 (the Melusine story), and Frazer and Lesky as just cited. Compare the tale of Phocus (see my note on the Alcmaeonis F1 in Davies TE, 116). Again, Homer prefers to picture Thetis as a relatively normal mother and wife, who seems to be envisaged as still living with her husband on land (Iliad I 396–397; XVI 222–224, 573–574; XVIII 59–60, 89–93, 330–332, 440–441; XVIII 422), although when her son calls upon her she is regularly in the depths of the sea (Iliad I 357–359; XVIII 35–37; XXIV 83). [54] See especially Iliad XVIII 85 (Achilles addressing Thetis): ὅτε σε βροτοῦ ἀνέρος ἔμβαλον εὐνῆι [scil. θεοί]; 432–434 [55] ἐκ μὲν μ’ ἀλλάων ἁλιάων ἀνδρὶ δάμασσεν [scil. Ζεύς],| Αἰακίδηι Πηλῆϊ, καὶ ἔτλην ἀνέρος εὐνήν | πολλὰ μάλ’ οὐκ ἐθέλουσα: cf. Lesky, RE 287.49–288.7, and for a bibliography of other modern discussions Jouan 1966:90n1.
The Cypria, then, had none of the Iliad’s complex aesthetic objections to the story. The above considerations suggest the tale came into being at a period earlier than our poem, and must always have had as its sequel the fierce wrestling-match between mortal and sea-sprite. But this proposition at once illustrates with a clear and penetrating light why it is unlikely that this scene ever adorned the Cypria. In the alternative Themis tradition (see page 38 above) it is, of course, particularly appropriate: Thetis has no personal reason for rejecting the rival advances of Zeus and Poseidon, and even less cause to welcome the marriage to a mortal, which is solely intended to save the immortal skins of her erstwhile suitors. She may well feel indignant at the scheme, and Peleus likewise may well feel the need of Chiron’s aid, here as before (see page 47 below), and of a surprise night-attack upon the unsuspecting Nereid: ἐν διχομηνίσσιν δὲ ἑσπέραις ἐρατὸν | λύοι κεν χαλινὸν ὑφ’ ἥρωϊ παρθενίας (Isthmian VIII 44–45) without ceremony. Quite different is the situation that prevails in the Cypria, where the special relationship between Hera and her protegée Thetis seems to have been the dominating factor: if Thetis was reared by Zeus’ wife and evaded his advances to please her, Hera will have rewarded her by ensuring that the mortal husband with whom Zeus seeks to punish her is the best specimen available: what has Thetis to jib at? Here, presumably, the marriage celebrations will have preceded the first and happy union rather than ratifying a necessarily brutal fait accompli. [56]
A final consideration: after mentioning the Cypria’s version, Philodemus proceeds: κα[ί παρ’] ‘Η[σιόδωι δὲ κε[ῖται | τ]ὸ παραπλήσ[ιον (fr. 210 MW). Reitzenstein (“Die Hochzeit,” 78–81) published for the first time a papyrus fragment containing part of the “Hesiodic” poem thus referred to (fr. 211 MW). In it, Peleus, having sacked Iolcus, returns to Phthia and celebrates his marriage to Thetis: she is, in some sense, a δῶρον granted by Ὀλύμπιος εὐρυόπα Ζεύς (line 8) and the wedding was, as usual, closely connected with the gods (cf. Wilamowitz’s supplement to line 9: γάμον δ’ αὐτοὶ μ]άκαρες θεοὶ ἐξετέλεσσαν. Now the return to Phthia reminds us of the story told by Pherecydes FGrHist 3 F 1A: ἔπειτα Πηλεὺς ὤιχετο εἰς Φθίαν, Θέτιν ἐπὶ τῶν ἵππων τούτων ἄγων, καὶ οἰκεῖ ἐν Φαρσάλωι καὶ ἐν Θετιδείωι, ὃ καλεῖται ἀπὸ τῆς Θέτιδος ἡ πόλις. The mention of Iolcus recalls the legend of Acastus and his wife (cf. Hesiod fr. 209 MW). And the notion that Thetis was Zeus’ gift to Peleus brings to mind Pindar Nemean V 33–37, where she is precisely that as a reward for Peleus’ legendary self-control in the face of such temptation: εὐθὺς δ’ ἀπανάνατο νύμφαν, ξεινίου πατρὸς χόλον | δείσαις· ὁ δ’ εὖ φράσθη κατένευσέν τε οἱ ὀρσινεφὴς ἐξ οὐρανοῦ | Ζεὺς ἀθανάτων βασιλεύς, ὥστ’ ἐν τάχει | ποντίαν χρυσαλακάτων τινὰ Nηρεΐδων πράξειν ἄκοιτιν ||| γαμβρὸν Ποσειδάωνα πείσαις, ὃς Αἰγᾶθεν ποτὶ κλειτὰν θαμὰ νίσεται Ἰσθμὸν Δωρίαν, κτλ.
Now if all these passages form part of a single epic version of the Peleus and Thetis myth, is this version compatible or incompatible with the other account considered above? Reitzenstein (84) and, after his earlier skepticism, Lesky (see 222 = 406) give a negative answer, and one can see why: the mentions of Iolcus and Phthia as interpreted above are clear signs that the story is being looked at from a different angle: Zeus’ need to persuade his brother Poseidon clearly distinguishes this version from that involving Themis’ prophecy, nor is the Liebesringkampf particularly easy to insert here. As for the Cypria, Zeus’ presentation of Thetis as a suitable prize for Peleus seems incompatible with the picture of a Zeus frustrated in love and angrily ready to punish Thetis, or with the stress upon Hera’s role as organizer of the marriage. Why, then, does Philodemus regard this vision as being similar (cf. τὸ παραπλήσιον) to the Cypria’s? In view of the numerous differences considered above, it is hard to avoid Lesky’s suggestion (see 223–224 = 407) that the similarity may be of a negative kind, with both poems having no place for the famous struggle on the strand.
Does the evidence of art in any way modify our impressions here? The wrestling-match between Peleus and his bride-to-be was popular as a subject in Greek art, especially vases: an up-to-date synthesis and analysis of the relevant artefacts is to be found in LIMC s.v. “Peleus” VII 1, pp. 255–263; cf. X. Krieger, “Der Kampf zwischen Peleus und Thetis in der griechischen Vasenmalerei (eine typologische Untersuchung)” (diss. Erlangen 1973). J. Boardman (“The Cleophrades Painter at Troy,” Antike Kunst 19 [1976]: 4) seems to argue that the evidence of vase painters points to the story’s appearance in the Cypria. [57] Discussing the Liebesringkampf and the tradition of the wedding, he says “at least the same painters show equal familiarity with both episodes, and we do not look for contradictory stories in the repertoire of such a close-knit group as that of the black-figure vase painters.” But suppose these painters were inspired by the Themis version … ? The same scholar is likelier to be right when he observes (“The Cleophrades Painter’s Cup in London,” J. Paul Getty Museum Journal 1 [1975] [= Ashmole Festschrift]: 9) “the version of the ‘courting’ of Peleus and Thetis which involves the fight is possibly not one known to [better: “used by”] the Cypria and Hesiod, where the marriage is ‘arranged.’ ”
The Wedding of Peleus and Thetis
Proclus Chrestomathia: (παραγενομένη δὲ Ἔρις) εὐωχουμένων τῶν θεῶν ἐν τοῖς Πηλέως γάμοις…
And Eris, turning up while the gods are feasting at the wedding of Peleus…
Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 13.5: γαμεῖ δ᾽ [scil. Θετίδα Πηλεύς] ἐν τῶι Πηλίωι, κἀκεῖ θεοὶ τὸν γάμον εὐωχούμενοι καθύμνησαν. καὶ δίδωσι Χείρων Πηλεῖ δόρυ μείλινον, Ποσειδῶν δὲ ἵππους Βαλίον καὶ Ξάνθον· ἀθάνατοι δὲ ἦσαν οὗτοι (And Peleus marries Thetis on Mount Pelion, and that is where the gods feasted and celebrated the match. Chiron gives Peleus an ashen spear, and Poseidon gives the horses Balius and Xanthus. These steeds were immortal).
Cf. Σ Iliad XVI 140 οἱ θεοὶ συναχθέντες εἰς τὸ Πήλιον ἐπ’ εὐωχίαι ἐκόμιζον Πηλεῖ δῶρα.
The wedding of Peleus and Thetis is regularly located on Mount Pelion: see R. Fowler, Early Greek Mythography, vol. 2: Commentary (Oxford 2013) 446n12. The gods’ participation is glancingly presupposed by Iliad XVIII 84–85 and Iliad XXIV 62–63 (the latter, with its striking picture of Apollo playing the lyre, [58] associated by several scholars [cf. Rzach 1922:2381.39–42] with the Cypria) but is alien to Homer. See the apposite remarks of Forsdyke, Greece before Homer: Ancient Chronology and Mythology (London 1956) 130: Homer’s gods “made themselves known to individual mortals alone and usually in disguise; they did not appear in public or at companies as the Cypria made them do at Peleus’ wedding and the Aethiopis at Achilles’ funeral. These unorthodox epiphanies seem to be related to a demand for marvels and mysteries in real life which was not recognised in the Iliad.” The tradition became very popular in later literature: see e.g. Pindar Pythian III 89–96, Nemean V 22–31, etc. For Euripidean allusions see Jouan 1966:68–85. For the evidence of art (e.g. the Franҫois Vase) see LIMC s.v. “Peleus” VII 1, p. 265.
F3 Scholion on the Iliad
Σ ZYQSA Iliad XVI 140 (3.458 van Thiel)
κατὰ γὰρ τὸν Πηλέως καὶ Θέτιδος γάμον [oἱ add. Y] θεοὶ συναχθέντες εἰς τὸ Πήλιον ἐπ’ εὐωχίαι ἐκόμιζον Πηλεῖ δῶρα, Χείρων δὲ μελίαν εὐθαλῆ τεμὼν εἰς δόρυ παρέσχεν. φασὶ δὲ Ἀθηνᾶν μὲν ξέσαι αὐτό, Ἥφαιστον δὲ κατασκευάσαι. τούτωι δὲ τῶι δόρατι καὶ Πηλεὺς ἐν ταῖς μάχαις ἠρίστευσε καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα Ἀχιλλεύς. ἡ ἱστορία παρὰ τῶι τὰ Κύπρια ποιήσαντι [πεποιήκοτι Q : ἱστορεῖ ὁ τἁ Kύπρια ποιήσας Y].
At the wedding of Peleus and Thetis the gods came together at Mount Pelion for a feast, and brought Peleus presents. Chiron brought him an ash branch of vigorous growth, which he had cut to form a spear. And they say that Athena polished it and Hephaestus fitted it with a point. It was with this spear that Peleus won preeminence in battle, and Achilles afterwards. The story occurs in the author of the Cypria.
Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 13.5: καὶ δίδωσι Χείρων Πηλεῖ δόρυ μείλινον, Ποσειδῶν δὲ ἵππους Βαλίον καὶ Ξάνθον· ἀθάνατοι δὲ ἦσαν οὗτοι…
Apollodorus is here both richer and poorer in details than the corresponding fragment of the Cypria. There is no difficulty in supposing that the Cypria also mentioned Balius and Xanthus, whose status as a gift from the gods is often mentioned in the Iliad (see Robert, Heldensage 69n5). For Xanthos as a horse’s name see Davies and Finglass on Stesichorus fr. 2a. Chiron is very regularly associated with Peleus from the earliest times: for instance, he comes to that hero’s aid when he is abandoned weaponless on Pelion (see the passages cited page 48 below), helps him win Thetis as bride (a very old feature, probably absent from the Cypria: see page 43 above), and helps rear his son Achilles (the last feature of the story, very popular in literature and art, was perhaps utilized in the Cypria: see Appendix I below).
As Bethe (1929:230) and Lesky (RE 292.4–7) observe, the words φασι δέ in our fragment look as if they are introducing a set of details taken from a different source to what goes before. The story as related by other authors confirms this: the picture of Chiron as bequeather of the spear ultimately wielded by Achilles is also to be found in Iliad XVI 142–144 = XIX 389–391 (ἀλλὰ μιν oἶος ἐπίστατο πῆλαι ‘Αχιλλεύς, | Πηλιάδα μελίην, τὴν πατρὶ φίλωι πόρε [59] Χείρων | Πηλίου ἐκ κορυφῆς, φόνον ἔμμεναι ἡρώεσσιν) and there is a general reference in Iliad XVIII 84 [60] to the τεύχεα which Πηλῆϊ θεοὶ δόσαν ἀγλαὰ δῶρα. Ilias Parva fr. 5 relates ὡς Πηλεὺς μὲν παρὰ Χείρωνος ἔμαθε τὴν χρῆσιν αὐτῆς [scil. τῆς μελίης], Ἀχιλλεὺς δὲ παρὰ Πηλεῶ, and Quintus of Smyrna I 592–593 has Achilles τιταίνων | λαοφόνον δόρυ μακρὸν ὑπαί Χείρονι πονηθέν. [61] Note, however, Lesky’s cautious suggestion (292.306–307) that the Iliadic passages may reflect a different, older version that does not link spear and wedding.
There is absolutely no reason (with e.g. Bloch, s.v. “Peleus” in Roscher 3.1838.40–42, rightly combatted by Rzach [1922:2381.29–36]) to dispute the derivation of Ἀθηνᾶν μὲν … κατασκευάσαι from our epic. But the idea that Athena polished and Hephaestus completed [62] the spear appears nowhere else [63] —not that their collaboration here is anything but instantly explicable. They work together as the two deities of the handicrafts in producing Pandora (Hesiod Theogony 507–606, Works and Days 60–82) and are often associated: see West on Hesiod Theogony 927, Collard on Euripides Supplices 1062. Their combination to provide a gift appropriate to a warrior hero is paralleled at Apollodorus Bibliotheca II 4.11, where the young Heracles receives a golden breastplate from Hephaestus and a robe from Athena. Note also the tradition preserved in Σ Apollonius of Rhodes 1.224 (p. 28 Wendel): Acastus abandons Peleus on Mount Pelion, ἐπιστὰς δὲ Ἑρμῆς ἤ, ὡς τινες, Χείρων ἔδωκεν αὐτῶι ἡφαιστότευκτον μάχαιραν: cf. Σ Aristophanes Clouds 1063 (schol. Ar. 1. III.1 p. 202 Holwerda), Lesky, RE 19 (1937): 281.20–24.
The statement that Hephaestus brought this μάχαιρα as a gift to the wedding (Tzetzes on Lycophron 178 [2.88 Scheer]) looks mightily like a late confusion of the Cypria’s version with this other tradition.
Eris and Her Apple
Proclus Chrestomathia: παραγενομένη δὲ Ἔρις εὐωχουμένων τῶν θεῶν ἐν τοῖς Πηλέως γάμοις.
And Eris, turning up while the gods are feasting at the wedding of Peleus…
As a sort of prelude to the question whether Eris’ apple ever featured in the Cypria, we must discuss the related problem of Eris’ appearance at the marriage of Peleus and Thetis. It is notorious that the apple is not specifically attested until Lucian and Hyginus (see page 52 below), whence scholars have inferred its nonappearance in the Cypria. Since the tradition of the failure to invite Eris, and her unwelcome arrival, likewise receives no guaranteed mention until Hyginus Fabula 92 (where she tosses the apple into the company of the unsuspecting guests), should we not similarly conclude that this preliminary detail too is of surprisingly late origin? Carl Robert (Heldensage 2.1073) certainly did. He assumed that this part of the story was a Hellenistic invention, and several scholars have been persuaded. On this interpretation [64] the Cypria’s Eris will have been invited to the marriage like any other god or goddess: only, because of her unfortunate role as a metaphor and personified abstraction, as soon as she walked in, quarrels broke out.
I suppose this is always possible. But A. Severyns (“Pomme de discorde,” 156–158) has shown that the words of Proclus’ summary here can easily be reconciled with the later and popular tradition of Eris’ initial omission from the guest-list. Grant παραγενoμένη the meaning it most naturally bears elsewhere in Proclus’ summary (“souvenir,” “turn up [unexpectedly]” [65] ), and the Cypria’s version will fit perfectly with the version familiar from later accounts. The omission of a deity from honors (especially sacrificial honors) and the dire consequences that inevitably follow form an ancient and widespread motif (see Davies and Finglass on Stesichorus fr. 85 and my article “ ‘Sins of the Fathers’: Omitted Sacrifices and Offended Deities in Greek Literature and the Folk-Tale,” Eikasmos 21 [2010]: 331–355). And it is somehow hard to believe that Eris was ever invited to the marriage-feast on a par with all the other deities. The rationale of the story [66] surely demands that Eris be omitted from the celebrations—as a most unwelcome guest—precisely in order that she may turn up nonetheless and create trouble. [67] The Iliadic hypothesis mentioned above (page 18n8) actually has Hermes, acting on Zeus’ instructions, physically bar the way to Eris’ entrance (P.Oxy. 3829, col. ii.17–18). Similarly Hyginus Fabula 92.1–2 has her not invited, not admitted, and throwing her apple from where she stands at the door.
How we think she created trouble will depend upon our views about the notorious apple. [68] Severyns, who denied that feature to the Cypria, guessed (“Pomme de discorde,” 157n29) that she came invisible and disseminated her poison secretly, marked by none. [69] Loki’s behavior in the Edda’s poem Lokasenna will remind us of an alternative way in which an uninvited god can turn up at a feast and cause enough ill-feeling and uproar without being invisible and purely metaphorical.
But is there any more specific evidence as to whether the Cypria’s Eris [70] brought an apple along? One potentially relevant artefact is the Pontic vase by the Paris Painter now in New York (Inv. 55.7: LIMC s.v. “Eris” C 13 Representations incertaines), which Erika Simon (in Hampe–Simon, Griechische Sagen in der frühen etruskischen Kunst [Mainz 1964] 35–40 with plates 12–15) has interpreted as the quarrel of the three goddesses at the wedding of Peleus and Thetis. The upper portion of this amphora exhibits two mantled females each reclining on a couch. A third female head protrudes behind the figure on the left. Long tables, covered (most unusually) with pieces of cloth but displaying no trace of food or drink upon them, stretch beside the aforementioned κλιναί.
In the background, three pairs of shoes hang from the wall; but a fourth female head, with wavy hair as if to indicate speedy motion, looms behind the body of the reclining figure on the right. The reverse side shows Hermes; a centaur (presumably Chiron) with a tree trunk over his left shoulder; and an old, white-bearded man who, like Hermes, carries a herald’s staff. The first and third of these figures recall the similar pair of figures on the famous depiction of the Judgment of Paris by the artist of the Munich amphora (ABV 278.31: LIMC s.v. “Paridis Iudicium” A 1), and Chiron’s frequent connection with Peleus in myth has been referred to above (page 38). The Munich vase also shows Paris’ herd of cattle, and a like herd decorates the bottom part of our New York amphora. A young man dressed as a herdsman tends them.
In view of its context, Simon would therefore interpret the scene of feminine feasting as Eris (of the frizzy-haired head) engendering strife between Athena and Hera (the two females reclining side by side on the left) and Aphrodite (the languidly reposing figure on the right who has a bird perched upon her outstretched left hand): “Der Maler hat deutlich gemacht, dass sie ihres Sieges beim Schönheitswettbewerb sicher ist” (p. 37). The two heralds and centaur on the other side are gesticulating as if to greet or summon the goddesses. Is this vase, then, the only visual depiction so far discovered of the νεῖκος περὶ κάλλους? And if so, is it valuable negative evidence as to Eris’ apple in the Cypria? For that goddess features only as a disembodied head, and there is no trace at all of any fruit. Simon argues (p. 40) that such Pontic vases follow the wording of their epic sources so closely that the apple’s absence from the Cypria is guaranteed. She leaves open (40n32) the question whether the goddesses will have reclined in that epic’s original description of the banquet—thereby departing from the Homeric custom of sitting to feast—or whether the vase painter has adjusted the scene to fit the practice of his own time. I myself doubt whether this interpretation of the vase is certain enough [71] to allow us to exclude the apple forthwith. Let us rather move onto the next item in Proclus’ summary.
Proclus Chrestomathia: Ἔρις … νεῖκος περὶ κάλλους ἐνίστησιν Ἀθηναῖ, Ἥραι καὶ Ἀφροδίτηι …
Eris instigates a quarrel about beauty between Athena, Hera, and Aphrodite.
Apollodorus Epitome 3.2: μήλον περὶ κάλλους Ἔρις ἐμβάλλει Ἥραι καὶ Ἀθηνᾶι καὶ Ἀφροδίτηι (Eris throws an apple [as prize] for beauty among Hera, and Athena, and Aphrodite).
Does the famous apple of Discord belong to the Cypria’s narrative, that is, does Apollodorus here as elsewhere present a fuller summary of that work’s contents? Or has he here (again as elsewhere) inserted into a narrative largely derived from that epic a detail that was only later invented? Since parallels could be found for either alternative, we must seek the help of external evidence, literary and artistic.
So far as we know, the apple in this story is … a late invention. It is so familiar a tale, that we can hardly realise that the classic poets of Greece did not know it at all, but this seems to be the truth.
Thus wrote B. O. Foster as the nineteenth century merged into the twentieth (“Notes on the Symbolism of the Apple in Classical Antiquity,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 10 [1899]: 44), and this was long the orthodox opinion. [72] The main reason for such a conclusion is that we look in vain for any mention of the golden apple until such late authors as Lucian and Hyginus. There are full lists of those late writers who allude to the apple of Discord in Severyns, “Pomme de discorde,” 158; A. R. Littlewood, “The Symbolism of the Apple in Greek and Roman Literature,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 72 (1968): 149–173 and M. K. Brazda, “Zur Bedeutung des Apfels in der antiken Kultur” (diss. Bonn 1977) 56n1. [73] The argumentum ex silentio is always to be treated with caution but here, when the contrast with the din made by early writers about the actual Judgment is so striking, it deserves considerable respect, especially in the case of Ovid Heroides XVI (Paris’ letter to Helen) [74] and several plays by Euripides (see Jouan 1966:104).
This looks like a case where the evidence of art should clarify the issues. So it does—to a certain extent. In other respects it succeeds (not for the first time) in complicating the picture. Art’s evidence is often inevitably more specific than literature’s. But it can be more inexplicit too, as in the present problem. Scholars have often detected the fruit in question, but we may be left in doubt as to whether the alleged apple is actually there at all, and if it is there whether it really is an apple, and if it really is an apple whether it may not possess a significance totally irrelevant to Eris and the Judgment of Paris.
A selection of relevant artefacts is listed in LIMC s.v. “Paridis Iudicium,” p. 73. There is an extremely helpful analysis of the evidence by Irmgard Raab (1972), who deals with “Der Apfel des Paris” on pp. 49–60. To start with, the famous Spartan ivory comb from the sanctuary of Artemis Orthia (LIMC s.v. “Paridis Iudicium” D 409) does not, despite numerous earlier assertions and even illustrations to the contrary, include the apple in its depiction of the Judgment of Paris. R. Hampe, in his article “Das Parisurteil auf dem Elfenbeinkamm aus Sparta” (Festschrift B. Schweitzer [Stuttgart 1954] 77–86; see especially plates I to IV), [75] showed decisively that the Paris figure on the left is not “holding out … a large spotted sphere” [76] which might represent the apple. The impressively early dating of the apple, and with it numerous far-reaching theories and deductions, [77] must vanish into empty air.
The earliest artistic evidence is often taken to consist of a group of Etruscan mirrors (LIMC s.v. “Paridis Iudicium” E 65–69: cf. Raab 1972:118n3), which show the Judgment and the apple and can be placed in the fourth century. [78] A like mirror, of a slightly earlier date, now in Lausanne (LIMC s.v. “Paridis Iudicium” D 24), while not directly depicting the Judgment, is meant to remind us of it, and shows Paris holding the apple.
Let us not, then, despair at the failure of the Spartan comb to provide evidence of the apple’s antiquity. Even without it we possess proof positive that this feature was earlier than its first extant literary attestation by over half a millenium. Theories that the apple was a very late invention indeed, perhaps Alexandrian in date, [79] now seem a deal less likely. If the evidence of art could achieve no more it would have accomplished much. In fact its resources are not yet exhausted: Raab draws our attention to several vases whose relevance to the problem in hand had not been properly estimated. There were various reasons for this, some of them technical. For instance, an amphora in London (British Museum E 289: ARV2 653.6 = A IV 14 Raab LIMC D 37), a hydria in London (E 178: ARV2 503.20 A IV 16 Raab: LIMC s.v. “Paridis Iudicium” D 38) and another amphora in London (E 257: ARV2 604.50), all of them dating to the early classical age, had long been recognized as showing Hera standing with her two rivals before the adjudging Paris and holding an apple-like fruit: but it was assumed that this was a pomegranate, and as such merely one of her attributes. [80] Two further vases (a red-figure lekythos, A IV 15, and a red-figure skyphos, A IV 25) are now lost and known only through earlier descriptions. [81] The former was interpreted [82] as depicting Athena holding an oil flask in a manner connected with Sophocles’ Krisis (cf. TrGF 4 F 361 I Radt: Ἀθηνᾶν… ἐλαίωι χριομένην καὶ γυμναζομένην). Or again the apple held by Hera on a lekythos from Agrigentum (A II 45 Raab: black-figure and a little earlier than the first three vases I have mentioned) was not recognized as such.The relevant side of an alabastron (Berlin F2259: ARV2 727.20 = B 5 Raab) that shows Athena apparently holding a round shape appropriate for the fruit under discussion is not perfectly easy to read and had not been published before. Finally, an amphora from the third quarter of the sixth century (New York 98.8.11: ABV 308.65 = A II 22 Raab: LIMC s.v. “Paridis Iudicium” C 13) presents us with an odd shape between the heads of the two foremost goddesses in the usual procession. Despite the tonal contrast between this black silhouette and the regular white of the goddesses’ flesh, this may well represent an apple held up between thumb and forefinger. If so, we are to imagine Athena as holding the fruit.
Now this last instance pertinently reminds us of the difficulties involved in interpreting the evidence of these vases. Numerous incidental obstacles have rendered the student’s task anything but straightforward. Nevertheless, I find it significant that even those vases which indubitably equip one of the goddesses with an apple-like fruit were so persistently interpreted in ways that deviate from the immediately obvious and economic. It seems likely that scholars were under the grip of a powerful preconception: instead of asking whether the argumentum ex silentio apparently proferred by literary evidence was in any way modified by the evidence of art, they automatically assumed that these vases must be too early to portray the apple, and devised alternative explanations for the fruit’s presence. Raab convincingly argues against the idea that the apples are meant to be attributes of the goddesses Hera and Athena (1972:50–52). [83] The evidence in favor of this view is slender enough to exclude as positively perverse an interpretation of the vases based on any such supposition. She equally well disposes of the notion that the fruit can possess some other significance here that can rule out the Judgment of Paris. That the apple signified numerous things in antiquity is well known (apart from Raab’s own discussion on its meaning in Greek art [52–58] see Littlewood, “The Symbolism of the Apple” and Brazda’s monograph, both of which afford a useful prospectus of the literary evidence), but the context of its appearance on the artifacts absolutely forbids such interpretations here. For instance, the gift of an apple can signify affection or love (see Littlewood 153–155 and Brazda 35–41), but the mere thought that the apples which Hera or Athena hold could be explained in this way is preposterous: Paris was never their wooer or lover, and the very fact that on two vases he can be seen handing over the fruit to them simultaneously (and neatly) excludes the possibility that their presence could ever have been intended as mere adornment.
It is thus very hard to avoid the immediate and obvious deduction that these artifacts represent the Judgment of Paris: all of them respond better to this interpretation than to any other, provided that no preconceptions as to the apple’s date of origin cloud our perspective. We have, then, as Raab points out (1972:59), important proof that the apple was an instantly intelligible part of the story at least as early as the fifth century’s first half. If our ultimate vase does depict the apple in Athena’s hand we can push that limit back by a further half-century. This is not to say, of course, that these vases must have had a literary source, or that that source was the Cypria. But a presumption is created and it grows in strength as we consider the range of other explanations.
Raab cautiously allows for the possibility that the Cypria omitted to narrate the apple’s transference from Peleus’ wedding to the Judgment of Paris; the fruit’s presence on the relevant vases will then be the artist’s way of reminding the audience how the dispute now being arbitrated first arose, a characteristic telescoping of two originally diverse scenes (see page 36 above). But would the Cypria really have neglected to mention so important a detail? Once the motif was introduced it would surely have been carried through to its natural and logical conclusion. Raab also emphasizes the sudden popularity of the apple-motif in the first half of the fifth century. We cannot always explain why vase painters become attracted to a theme that has appeared in literature for some time before, and we must further remain alert to the very real possibility of the inspiration of one vase painter by another’s representation. But even if we did expect a very close nexus between a poem’s influence upon art and its first appearance, the date for the Cypria thus presupposed is by no means as problematic as Raab (followed by Brazda [p. 57]) seems to imply. Linguistic and other criteria strongly suggest that the poem of which we possess our handful of direct citations reached the final stage represented by those citations at a relatively late date (see page 7 above). No other work of literature has a comparable claim—on grounds of general contents alone—to have introduced the detail and inspired later artifacts.
The evidence of art can by no stretch of the imagination be said to prove the apple’s appearance in the Cypria. Even if Athena is holding an apple on the alabastron mentioned above, the statement just made would still be true. [84] But art does here provide a sober reminder of the perils with which the argument from silence abounds: centuries before the earliest literary reference of which we are aware, Etruscan mirrors and Greek vases reveal that the detail of the apple was a familiar element within the Judgment of Paris. [85]
We should note here that a labeled Eris may be seen peering down from heaven at the results of her handiwork on one particular vase painting of the Judgment of Paris, which is now in Karlsruhe (259 [B36]: ARV2 1215.1 = B 14 in Raab’s catalogue: LIMC s.v. “Eris” B 8). This should not be taken as telling us anything significant about the Cypria, for reasons already explained in connection with a similar vase depicting Eris and Themis together: see page 35 above). If a vase painter of this subject is looking for figures to fill out the space at his disposal, Eris is an obvious character to add, with or without the Cypria’s prompting.
From the Judgment of Paris to Helen’s Abduction
The Judgment of Paris
Proclus Chrestomathia: … Ἀθηναῖ, Ἡραι καὶ Ἀφροδίτηι, αἳ πρὸς Ἀλέξανδρον ἐν Ἴδηι … πρὸς τὴν κρίσιν ἄγονται.
Athena, Hera, and Aphrodite are led to Paris on Mount Ida to have their beauty judged.
Die älteste und bekannte Erzählung des Parisurteils ist die der Kyprien. Sie scheint sehr berühmt gewesen zu sein; denn mit Recht nimmt man an, dass die Schilderungen bei den Tragikern unter ihrem Einfluss stehen.
Robert, Heldensage 1071
The Judgment of Paris regularly transpires on Mount Ida, and Hermes is as regularly the deity entrusted with their conveyence (as befits the Odyssean messenger of the gods? The Iliadic picture of Iris in that role seems to have occurred later in the poem: see page 121 below). Art too, from the earliest times, gives him this task: LIMC s.v. “Paridis Iudicium” VII 1, pp. 177–185; cf. Pausanias’ description of the Chest of Cypselus (V 19.5) and Raab 1972:21–23. Why Paris was to be found on Ida in the Cypria we shall probably never know. But since Nichtwissen is ever preferable to a specious Scheinwissen we may at least examine the views that have been taken of the significance of Paris’ presence on the mountain within our epic. Welcker (2.90) could not conceive why Paris should have been on Ida at all unless he had been exposed there as an infant and had dwelt there ever since, ignorant of his parents’ identity. This conclusion contains far-reaching repercussions for the history of the whole legend: for if Welcker were right, the Cypria must also have contained an account of Paris’ recognition by his family after the Judgment, an event of which Proclus’ summary says as little as he does of the original exposure. But it must be stated at once that Welcker’s deduction is by no means inevitable: Carl Robert pointed out (Bild und Lied 234; cf. Heldensage 2.978n3) that the Iliad provides several examples of Trojan princes tending cattle upon Mount Ida as if such an occupation were a perfectly normal part of their existence: compare Aeneas’ plight near the end of this very poem (see page 180 below and further Kenney’s commentary on Ovid Heroides XVI [Cambridge 1996] 7n10 as well as I. Karamanov’s commentary cited page 73 below). [86]
F4 Athenaeus
Athenaeus XV 682D–E (3.509 sq. Kaibel)
ἀνθῶν δὲ στεφανωτικῶν μέμνηται ὁ μὲν τὰ Κύπρια ἔπη πεποικώς, Ἡγησίας ἢ Στασῖνος· Δημοδάμας δ᾽ [Hecker: γὰρ A] ὁ Ἁλικαρνασσεὺς ἢ Μιλήσιος ἐν τῶι περὶ Ἁλικαρνασσοῦ [FGrHist. 428 F 1] Κύπρια Ἁλικαρ-νασσέως [Hecker: κύπρια Ἁλ. δ᾽ A] αὐτὰ εἶναί φησι ποιήματα. λέγει δ᾽ οὖν ὅστις ἐστὶν ὁ ποιήσας αὐτὰ ἐν τῶι ά οὑτωσί·
εἵματα μὲν χροὶ ἕστο τά οἱ Χάριτές τε καὶ Ὧραι
ποίησαν καὶ ἔβαψαν ἐν ἄνθεσιν εἰαρινοῖσιν
οἷα φοροῦσ᾽ Ὧραι, ἔν τε κρόκωι ἔν θ᾽ ὑακίνθωι
ἔν τε ἴωι θαλέθοντι ῥόδου τ᾽ ἐνὶ ἄνθεϊ καλῶι,
ἡδέϊ νεκταρέωι, ἔν τ᾽ ἀμβροσίαις καλύκεσσιν5
ἄνθεσι ναρκίσσου καὶ λειρίου † δ᾽ οἷα Ἀφροδίτη †
ὥραις παντοίαις τεθυμένα εἵματα ἕστο.
ποίησαν καὶ ἔβαψαν ἐν ἄνθεσιν εἰαρινοῖσιν
οἷα φοροῦσ᾽ Ὧραι, ἔν τε κρόκωι ἔν θ᾽ ὑακίνθωι
ἔν τε ἴωι θαλέθοντι ῥόδου τ᾽ ἐνὶ ἄνθεϊ καλῶι,
ἡδέϊ νεκταρέωι, ἔν τ᾽ ἀμβροσίαις καλύκεσσιν5
ἄνθεσι ναρκίσσου καὶ λειρίου † δ᾽ οἷα Ἀφροδίτη †
ὥραις παντοίαις τεθυμένα εἵματα ἕστο.
The use of flowers for garlands is quoted by the author of the Cypria, Hegesinus or Stasinus. Demodamus of Halicarnassus or Miletus in his work on Halicarnassus says these poems are from Cyprus. At all events, whoever is the author of the Cypria says as follows in book I:
She [Aphrodite] set on her skin the garments which the Graces and the Seasons had made and dyed in the flowers of spring-time, garments such as the Seasons wear, dyed in crocus and hyacinth and in the blooming violet and in the fair flower of the rose, sweet and fragrant, and in ambrosial flowers of the narcissus and the lily. Such were the garments fragrant in all seasons that Aphrodite put on herself.
lacunam post Στασῖνος posuit Welcker, ubi 〈ἢ Κύπριος〉 suppl. Wilamowitz Κυπρία Ἁλικαρνασσέων: 〈οὐ〉 Κυπρίου, Ἁλ. δ’ Hemsterhuys, Κύπρια 〈μὲν ἐπιγράφεσθαι〉 Ἁλ. δ’ Sengebusch
1 ἱμάρια A: corr. Canter χροιᾶς τότε αἱ A: corr. Meineke 3 οἷα: ὅσσα Hecker φοροῦσ᾽: φορεῦσ᾽ Schneidewin 6 – 7 vexati: ante hos versus lacunam posuit Meineke ἄνθεσι susp. Kaibel, alii καὶ λειρίου Meineke: καλλιρρόου A et ante et post καὶ λειρίου nonnulla excidisse putat Köchly δ’ οἷα A: τοῖ᾽ Meineke olim δῖ ’ Ἀφροδίτη Casaubon ὥραις παντοίαις susp. Meineke, alii
Context
On Demodamas and his remarks on the authorship of the Cypria see Jacoby’s commentary ad loc. (3.253). The ultimate source of this particular portion of Athenaeus’ work is doubtless a note by Aristarchus contrasting Homer’s failure to mention garlands in his narrative (cf. Severyns 1928:136; my note on Alcmaeonis fr. 2 [TE 119]). This is the only fragment of the Cypria specifically assigned by its citer to a given book (the first). [87]
That this and the following fragment relate to Aphrodite’s self-adornment prior to the Judgment of Paris was first guessed by Heyne (on Vergil Aeneid 1: excursus 2 [1804]) and accepted by Welcker (2.511). It is obviously right (Salmasius, Plinianae Exercitationes [Paris 1629] 559b had already guessed the truth regarding F5).
Wilamowitz (Glaube der Hellenen 1.192) noted the scurvy treatment the Charites and Horae receive from Homer, who demotes them to the status of servants to the more important Olympian deities. In the Cypria too, they functioned, judging from these fragments, as προσπολοί, but something of their original concerns as deities of growth and vegetation (on which see page 64 below) gleams through the lines. On the Charites in general see K. Deichgräber, “Die Chariten als Göttinnen der glanzvollen Schönheit,” Charis und Chariten: Grazie und Grazien (Munich 1971) 20–36, 75–76= Ausgewählte Kleine Schriften (Zurich 1984) 207–225 (though he says nothing of our fragment).
Aphrodite, the Nymphs and the Graces all deck themselves in beautiful garments and garlands of flowers, and then proceed to Mount Ida to participate in the Judgment of Paris. Compare Homeric Hymn XXVII 13–15, where Artemis goes to Apollo’s house at Delphi Μουσῶv καὶ Χαρίτων καλὸν χορὸν ἀρτυνέουσα and after hanging up her bows and arrows ἡγεῖται χαρίεντα περὶ χροὶ κόσμον ἔχουσα,| ἐξάρχουσα χορούς· αἱ δ’ ἀμβροσίην ὄπ’ ἰεῖσαι | ὑμνεῦσιν Λητώ, κτλ. Also Hesiod Theogony 5–8, where the Muses bathe in the river before dancing. Nothing is said within the limits of our fragments about bathing, but note that several Euripidean passages seem to presuppose a tradition whereby all three of the goddesses bathed before approaching Paris: cf. Andromache 284–285 ταὶ δ’ ἐπεὶ ὑλόκομον νάπος ἤλυθον οὐρειᾶν πιδάκων νίφαν αἰγλᾶντα σώματα ῥoαῖς; Helen 676–678 λουτρῶν καὶ κρηνῶν, | ἵνα θεαί μορφὰν | ἐφαίδρυναν, ἔνθεν ἔμολεν κρίσις; Ιphigeneia in Αulis 182–184 ὅτ’ ἐπὶ κρηναίαισι δρόσοις |Ἤραι Παλλάδι τ’ ἔριν | μορφᾶς ἁ Κύπρις, 1294–1303 ἀμφὶ τὸ λευκὸν ὕδωρ, | ὅθι κρῆναι Νυμφᾶν κεῖνται, κτλ.
Scholars have long since noted the resemblances between these fragments of the Cypria and various other episodes in early epic where Aphrodite dresses and adorns herself with the aid of attendants. Compare in particular Odyssey viii 364–366, where Aphrodite retires to Paphos:
ἔνθα δὲ μιν Χάριτες λοῦσαν καὶ χρῖσαν ἐλαίωι
ἀμβρότωι, οἷα θεοὺς ἐπενηνοθεν αἰὲν ἐόντας,
ἀμφὶ δὲ εἵματα ἕσσαν ἐπήρατα, θαῦμα ἰδέσθαι.
ἀμβρότωι, οἷα θεοὺς ἐπενηνοθεν αἰὲν ἐόντας,
ἀμφὶ δὲ εἵματα ἕσσαν ἐπήρατα, θαῦμα ἰδέσθαι.
Consider also the same deity’s preparations to seduce Anchises in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite. Again she goes to Paphos (Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 61–62 = Odyssey viii 364–365) and then (Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 64–66):
ἑσσαμένη δ᾽ εὖ πάντα περὶ χροῖ εἵματα καλά
χρυσῶι κοσμηθεῖσα φιλομμειδὴς Ἀφροδίτη
σεύατ’ ἐπὶ Τροίης…
χρυσῶι κοσμηθεῖσα φιλομμειδὴς Ἀφροδίτη
σεύατ’ ἐπὶ Τροίης…
She finds Anchises, who is overcome by her beauty (86–89):
πέπλον μὲν γὰρ ἕεστο φαεινότερον πυρὸς αὐγῆς
εἶχε δ’ ἐπιγναμπτὰς ἕλικας κάλυκάς τε φαεινάς,
ὅρμοι δ’ ἀμφ’ ἁπαλῆι δειρῆι περικαλέες
καλοὶ χρύσεοι παμποίκιλοι· ὡς δὲ σελήνη
στήθεσιν ἀμφ’ ἁπαλοῖσιν ἐλάμπετο, θαῦμα ἰδέσθαι.
εἶχε δ’ ἐπιγναμπτὰς ἕλικας κάλυκάς τε φαεινάς,
ὅρμοι δ’ ἀμφ’ ἁπαλῆι δειρῆι περικαλέες
καλοὶ χρύσεοι παμποίκιλοι· ὡς δὲ σελήνη
στήθεσιν ἀμφ’ ἁπαλοῖσιν ἐλάμπετο, θαῦμα ἰδέσθαι.
The shorter Homeric hymn to this goddess has a similar scene after Aphro-dite has risen from the waves (Homeric Hymn VI 5–15):
τὴν δὲ χρυσάμπυκες Ὧραι
δέξαντ’ ἀσπασίως, περὶ δ’ ἄμβροτα εἵματα ἔσσαν,
κρατὶ δ᾽ ἐπ’ ἀθανάτωι στεφάνην εὔτυκτον ἔθηκαν
καλὴν χρυσείην, ἐν δὲ τρητοῖσι λοβοῖσιν
ἀνθεμ’ ὀρειχάλκου χρυσοῖό τε τιμήεντος,
10 δειρήι δ’ ἀμφ’ ἁπαλῆι καὶ στήθεσιν ἀργυρέοισιν
ὅρμοισι χρυσέοισιν ἐκόσμεον, οἷσί περ αὐταί
Ὧραι κοσμείσθην χρυσάμπυκες ὁππότ’ ἵοιεν
ἐς χόρον ἱμερόεντα θεῶν καὶ δώματα πατρός.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ πάντα περὶ χροῖ κόσμον ἔθηκαν
15 ἦγον ἐς ἀθνάτους· οἱ δ’ ἠσπάζοντο ἰδόντες … [88]
δέξαντ’ ἀσπασίως, περὶ δ’ ἄμβροτα εἵματα ἔσσαν,
κρατὶ δ᾽ ἐπ’ ἀθανάτωι στεφάνην εὔτυκτον ἔθηκαν
καλὴν χρυσείην, ἐν δὲ τρητοῖσι λοβοῖσιν
ἀνθεμ’ ὀρειχάλκου χρυσοῖό τε τιμήεντος,
10 δειρήι δ’ ἀμφ’ ἁπαλῆι καὶ στήθεσιν ἀργυρέοισιν
ὅρμοισι χρυσέοισιν ἐκόσμεον, οἷσί περ αὐταί
Ὧραι κοσμείσθην χρυσάμπυκες ὁππότ’ ἵοιεν
ἐς χόρον ἱμερόεντα θεῶν καὶ δώματα πατρός.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ πάντα περὶ χροῖ κόσμον ἔθηκαν
15 ἦγον ἐς ἀθνάτους· οἱ δ’ ἠσπάζοντο ἰδόντες … [88]
The same motifs can be applied to other goddesses. Thus, in Iliad XIV 170–187, when Hera wishes to seduce her husband,
ἀμβροσιῆι μὲν πρώτον ἀπὸ χροὸς ἱμερόεντος
λύματα πάντα κάθηρεν, ἀλείφατο δὲ λίπ’ ἑλαίωι
ἀμβροσίωι ἑδανῶι, τό ῥά οἱ τεθυωμένον ἦεν:
τοῦ καὶ κινυμένοιο Διὸς κατὰ χαλκοβατὲς δῶ
ἔμπης ἐς γαῖάν τε καὶ οὐρανὸν ἵκετ᾽ ἀϋτμή.
175 τῶι ῥ’ ἥ γε χρόα καλὸν ἀλειφαμένη ἰδὶ χαίτας
πλεξαμένη χερσί πλοκάμους ἔπλεζε φαεινούς
καλοὺς ἁμβροσίους, ἐκ κράατος ἀθανάτοιο.
ἀμφὶ δ’ ἂρ ἀμβρόσιον ἑανὸν ἕσαθ’, ὅν οἱ Ἀθήνη
ἔξυσ’ ἀσκήσασα, τίθει δ’ ἐνὶ δαίδαλα πολλά·
180 χρυσείηις δ᾽ ἐνετήιοι κατὰ στήθος περονᾶτο.
ζῶσατο δὲ ζωνῆι ἑκατὸν θυσάνοις ἀραρυίηι
ἐν δ’ ἄρα ἕρματα ἥκεν ἐϋστρήτοισι λοβοῖσι
τρίγληνα μορόεντα· χάρις δ’ ἐπελάμπετο πολλή.
κρηδέμνωι δ’ ἐφύπερθε καλύψατο δῖα θεάων
185 καλώι νηγατέωι· λευκὸν δ’ ἦν ἠέλιος ὥς·
ποοσί δ’ ὑπὸ λιπαροῖσιν ἐδήσατο καλὰ πέδιλα.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ πάντα περὶ χροῖ θήκατο κόσμον…
λύματα πάντα κάθηρεν, ἀλείφατο δὲ λίπ’ ἑλαίωι
ἀμβροσίωι ἑδανῶι, τό ῥά οἱ τεθυωμένον ἦεν:
τοῦ καὶ κινυμένοιο Διὸς κατὰ χαλκοβατὲς δῶ
ἔμπης ἐς γαῖάν τε καὶ οὐρανὸν ἵκετ᾽ ἀϋτμή.
175 τῶι ῥ’ ἥ γε χρόα καλὸν ἀλειφαμένη ἰδὶ χαίτας
πλεξαμένη χερσί πλοκάμους ἔπλεζε φαεινούς
καλοὺς ἁμβροσίους, ἐκ κράατος ἀθανάτοιο.
ἀμφὶ δ’ ἂρ ἀμβρόσιον ἑανὸν ἕσαθ’, ὅν οἱ Ἀθήνη
ἔξυσ’ ἀσκήσασα, τίθει δ’ ἐνὶ δαίδαλα πολλά·
180 χρυσείηις δ᾽ ἐνετήιοι κατὰ στήθος περονᾶτο.
ζῶσατο δὲ ζωνῆι ἑκατὸν θυσάνοις ἀραρυίηι
ἐν δ’ ἄρα ἕρματα ἥκεν ἐϋστρήτοισι λοβοῖσι
τρίγληνα μορόεντα· χάρις δ’ ἐπελάμπετο πολλή.
κρηδέμνωι δ’ ἐφύπερθε καλύψατο δῖα θεάων
185 καλώι νηγατέωι· λευκὸν δ’ ἦν ἠέλιος ὥς·
ποοσί δ’ ὑπὸ λιπαροῖσιν ἐδήσατο καλὰ πέδιλα.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ πάντα περὶ χροῖ θήκατο κόσμον…
So far, be it noted, Hera has managed without attendants, but she now calls on Aphrodite and requests the gift of φιλότης and ἵμερος and is given the κέστος ἱμάς containing those qualities. These lines have been taken as the Cypria’s inspiration by several scholars (cf. Jouan 1966:103n1). In much the same way, Hesiod Works and Days 72–76 describes how the gods adorned Pandora:
ζῶσε δὲ καὶ κόσμησε θεά γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη.
ἀμφὶ δὲ οἱ Χάριτες τε θεαὶ καὶ πότνια Πειθώ
ὅρμους χρυσείους ἔθεσαν χροΐ, ἀμφὲ δὲ τήν γε
Ὧραι καλλίκομοι στέφον ἄνθεσιν εἰαρινοῖσιν·
πάντα δὲ οἱ χροΐ κόσμον ἐφήρμοσε Παλλάς Ἀθήνη
ἀμφὶ δὲ οἱ Χάριτες τε θεαὶ καὶ πότνια Πειθώ
ὅρμους χρυσείους ἔθεσαν χροΐ, ἀμφὲ δὲ τήν γε
Ὧραι καλλίκομοι στέφον ἄνθεσιν εἰαρινοῖσιν·
πάντα δὲ οἱ χροΐ κόσμον ἐφήρμοσε Παλλάς Ἀθήνη
Whether it is possible to establish a specific set of relationships between these passages (as O. Lendle, Die “Pandorasage” bei Hesiod [Würzburg 1957] 34–36, 60, 115 assumes) is highly uncertain. The element of “typicality” must not be underrated. West on Works and Days 73–75 (p. 161) cites A. Henrichs, “Die Phoinikika des Lollianos Fragmente eines neuen griechischen Romans,” Papyrische Texte und Abhandlungen 14 (1972): 22 for oriental analogies in the self-adorning of goddesses of the East such as Astarte or Inanna. The basic dissimilarities between such Near Eastern seduction scenes and Homer’s more refined treatment are well brought out by J. Griffin (1980:200n63).
Content
Scholars have rarely supposed that our fragments emerge well from a comparison with these analogous episodes, in particular the Homeric. Griffin (1977:50–51) is especially harsh: “The list of flowers is too long; fewer names would have been more effective.” He detects in these lines “a conscious attempt to compose in a richly ornamental manner; compare the ‘decorated lyrical style’ which Kirk finds characteristic of the Διὸς ἀπάτη … Homer however avoids such weak repetitions in such a context … Even the lusher manner of the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite is very different … the passage as a whole moves quicker and by suggesting more and listing less is far more effective. What depresses particularly about the Cypria passage is that the poet has clearly set himself to excel his models and prided himself on the result.” The point about repetition is perhaps a little unfair to the Cypria’s poet. Compare the recurrence of ἀμβροσι—four times within eight lines at Iliad XIV 170–178 as cited and see 2n ad fin. below. Meineke, at any rate, found F4 “sehr schöne” (ap. E. Gerhard, “Griechische Vasenbilder,” Archäologische Zeitung 3 [1845]: 29) and “venustissimum” (Analecta Critica ad Athenaeum 4 [1866]: 331).
1 – 2. εἵματα μὲν χροΐ ἕστο: cf. Iliad XXIII 67, Odyssey xvii 203, xxiii 115, etc. οἱ Χάριτές τε καὶ Ὧραι , | ποίησαν: cf. Iliad V 337: Diomedes wounds Aphrodite ἀμβροσίου διὰ πέπλου ὅν οἱ Χάριτες κάμον αὐταί (Leaf ad loc. gives other examples of this construction with οἱ).
1. Χάριτές τε καὶ Ὧραι: cf. Ηomeric Ηymn to Αphrodite 194 ἐϋπλόκαμοι Χάριτες καὶ ἐΰφρονες Ὧραι. For the frequent connection of these two groups of divinities with each other and with Aphrodite see the Greek instances cited by West on Hesiod Theogony 901 and 907 and Works and Days 75. The coupling is common in Latin too: see e.g. Ovid Fasti V 217–219 (Horae … Charites) and, in particular, Apuleius Metamorphoses X 32, where a reenactment of the Judgment of Paris shows the Gratiae and Horae attending on Venus. A stamnos from the start of the fifth century now in Detroit (24 3K135: ARV2 291.28 = A III.32 Raab: LIMC s.v. “Horai” B 41) shows Aphrodite attended by the Horae at the Judgment. On the Charites in that context cf. J. Francis, “The Three Graces,” Greece and Rome 49 (2002): 192.
2. ἔβαψαν: there is no exact parallel for this usage (our passage is absent from LSJ s.v.). I take it that the poet envisages not merely the sort of dipping in which “the flowers … scented the robes of Aphrodite” (Stinton 1965:33= 42), but that the robes were “dyed in flowers of spring” (Evelyn-White, Loeb text of Hesiod and the Homeric Hymns p. 499): cf. Plato Republic 557c ἱμάτιον ποικίλον πᾶσιν ἄνθεσι πεποικιλμένον; Plutarch Quaestiones Conviviales 3.1 (Moralia 645D) on the odor of a flower ποικιλίαν … βαφαῖς ἀνοιγόμενα, so that Aphrodite rather resembled Flora in Botticelli’s Primavera (a painting deeply indebted to classical literature: see e.g. A. Warburg, The Renewal of Pagan Antiquity [Malibu 1999: original German text, 1893] 112–143, E. H. Gombrich, Symbolic Images [London 1972] 45–62). For Aphrodite’s connection with flowers and flowery garments cf. Hesychius s.v. θρόνα (2.331 Latte) ἄνθη καὶ τὰ ἐκ χρωμάτων ποικίλματα Κύπριοι; Σ Theocritus Idyll II 59 (p. 283 Wendel) Κύπριοι δὲ τὰ ἀνθινὰ ἱμάτια … Ὅμηρος δὲ [Iliad XXII 440–441] ἥ γ’ ἱστὸν ὕφαινε μυχῷ δόμου ὑψηλοῖο | δίπλακα πορφυρέην, ἐν δὲ θρόνα ποικίλ’ ἔπασσεν] τὰ ῥόδα παρὰ τὸ ἄνω θορεῖν ἐκ τῆς | γῆς; Sappho 1.1 LP: ποικιλόθρον’ … Ἄφροδίτα; Pindar Olympian 1.13.96 Μοίσαις … ἀγλαοθρόνοι, (Merkelbach, “ΑΓΛΑΟΘΡΟΝΟΣ,” Ζeitschrift für Ρapyrologie und Εpigraphik 11 (1973): 160 = Philologica [Leipzig 1997] 311–312 [his interpretation of Sappho as cited was anticipated by several scholars (see the bibliography in A. P. Burnett, Three Archaic Poets [1983] 250n53, adding Leaf on Iliad XXII 440–441 (2.375), Wilamowitz, Sitzungsberichte der Berliner Akademie (1910) 376n3, L. B. Lawler, “On Certain Homeric Epithets,” Philological Quarterly 27 [1948]: 80–83, R. Neuberger-Donath, “ ‘ΠΟΙΚΙΛΟΘΡΟΝ’ oder ‘ΠOΙΚΙΛΟΦΡOΝ,’ ” Wiener Studien 3 [1969]: 16n3); cf. E. Risch, “θρόνος, θρόνα und die Komposita vom Typus χρυσόθρονος,” Studii Classice 14 (1972): 17–25 = Kleine Schriften 354–362; D. Gerber, “Bacchylides 17.124–129,” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 49 (1982) 4n2]; R. Renehan, “Ποικιλόθρονος in Sappho: The First Word of Poem I,” in Studies Presented to Sterling Dow on His 80th Birthday [Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies Monograph 10 (1984) 256–258]). For the Horae’s connection with flowery garments cf. Hermippus fr. 5.1–2 KA καιροσπάθητον ἀνθέων ὕφασμα καινὸν Ὡρῶν | λεπτοὺς διαψαίρουσα πέπλους ἀνθέων γέμοντας; Hesychius s.v. ἀνθείαι (1.176 Latte) Ὧραι. The Horae are pictis incinctae vestibus at Ovid Fasti V 217. [89] In late authors and one or two early ones (cf. Gow on Theocritus Idyll XV 116, LSJ s.v. ἀνθοβαφής) ἄνθος/-εα can mean (or verge on) “color(s).” ἐν ἄνθεσιν εἰαρινοῖσι |: cf. Iliad II 89 ἐπ’ ἄνθεσιν εἰαρινοῖσιν |; Hesiod Theogony 279 καὶ ἄνθεσιν εἰαρινοῖσιν; Works and Days 76 ἄνθεσιν εἰαρινοῖσιν |; Homeric Hymn to Demeter 401–402 ὁππότε δ’ ἄνθεσι γαῖ’ εὐώδεσιν ἠαρινοῖσι | παντοδαποῖς θάλλει. See too Sappho fr. 2.10 (τέθαλεν) | ἠρίνοισιν ἄνθεσιν; Theognis 1276 (γῆ) | ἀνθεσιν εἰαρινοῖς θάλλει; Simonides 581.2 Ρ ἄνθεεσι τ’ εἰαρινοῖς; Rhianus Palatine Anthology 12.58.4 = ΗΕ 3207. “In Mediterranean countries flowers are associated with spring and not with summer” (Nisbet and Hubbard on Horace Odes I 4.10: see further E. Irwin, “The Crocus and the Rose,” in Greek Poetry and Philosophy (Woodbury Festschrift [Chicago] 1984 152–153). The Ὧραι are πολυάνθεμοι in Pindar Olympian 13.17 and Hymn Orph. 43.3 (cf. Bühler on Moschus Europa 164 [p. 201nn6–7]), εἰαριναί in the epigram of Rufinus Palatine Anthology 5.70 (= xxvi Page) 2. See too Chaeremon TrGF 1.71 F 13 κόμαισιν ὡρῶν σώματ’ εὐανθῆ ῥόδα | εἶχον, τιθήνημ’ ἔαρος ἐκπρεπέστατον. As West observes on Hesiod Works and Days 75, the Horae there and in the present passage “operate with the flowers that are their special concern,” being particularly identified with the seasons of life and growth: see West on Hesiod Theogony 901, Arnott on Alexis fr. 263.6 (“goddesses of seasonal fragrance”), Gow on Theocritus Idyll XV 103, G. Hanfmann, The Seasons Sarcophagus in Dumbarton Oaks (Cambridge, MA 1951) 1:77–84. Cf. Richardson on Homeric Hymn to Demeter 6 for this type of “natural sympathy.” The Horae and Charites are linked with Flora in Ovid Fasti V 215–220 and the Horae and Gratiae flatter Venus with the petals of spring at Apuleius Metamorphoses X 32 (see page 63 above). Charites and spring go together in other authors too: see Davies and Finglass on Stesichorus fr. 173.1, adding Horace Odes IV 7 and Himerius Oration 38.9–10. They “stehen immer in der Blüte der Jahre” (Deichgräber, “Die Chariten als Göttinnen,” 75 = 229). For Aphrodite’s connection with spring and flowers see Sappho ποικιλόθρον’ … Ἀφρ. (as cited), Lucretius I 10–23 and V 737–740 (with Bailey ad locc.), Horace Odes 1.4 (with Nisbet and Hubbard ad loc. [pp. 59–61]), Ovid Fasti IV 127–130, Apuleius. Metamorphoses X 29 and 31, etc. Cf. Alcaeus 296b 1–3: Κυπρογένη’… | … | … ὠς γὰρ οἴ [γ]οντ᾽ ἔαρος πύλ[αι. Aphrodite is associated with the significantly named female Chrysope on a calpis (ca. 410) by the Meidias Painter (Florence, Museo Archeologico Nazionale 81947: ARV2 1312.2). “The word ἄνθος is twice repeated [lines 4 and 6] without adding anything,” grumbles Griffin (1977:51). A kinder (and perhaps juster) way of expressing this is Stinton’s (1965:33n1 = 42n45): “the word ἄνθος occurs here four times (presumably) in a few lines, after the archaic manner of emphasising an idea” (see page 62 above and J. Th. Kakridis, Homeric Researches [Lund 1949] 121–123). Flowers feature prominently in some vase paintings of the Judgment (cf. Raab 1972:84–85).
3 . φοροῦσ᾽: as far as meaning goes it would be wise not to distinguish too clearly between the following renderings of the verb: “such as the seasons of the year bring”; “such as the Horae carry”; “such as the Horae wear.” The feeble play on words suits our author (see page 82 below). Manuscripts do confuse φέρειν and φορεῖν, though more usually the second is corrupted to the first (see Barrett on Euripides Hippolytus 316; J. Diggle, “Sophocles, ‘Ichneutae’ [fr. 314 Radt],” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 117 [1996]: 9), but we need not rationalize the play on words out of existence by adopting here φέρουσ’ (proposed almost simultaneously by Hecker, “Epistolae Criticae ad F. G. Schneidewin V,” Philologus 4 [1850]: 423 and Köchly [Coniectaneorum Epicorum Fasculus 1 (Zurich 1851) 8 = Opuscula Philologica 1.227], approved by West [2013:76], citing numerous other passages where nonpersonified ὥραι are the verb’s subject). Even less attractive are Wilamowitz’s φιλοῦσ’ or Meineke’s φέρουσ᾽ αὐταί (cf. Iliad V 337 as cited) in Analecta Critica ad Athenaeum 4 (1866): 331 “ut οἷα ad εἵματα spectet.” In form the verb (see G. P. Shipp, Studies in the Language of Homer2 [Cambridge 1972] 10) may be an atticism (contraction to “ου”: Ionic contracts to “ευ,” wherefore φορεῦσ’ was conjectured here by Schneidewin, “Zu den Bruchstücken der Homerische Dichter” Philologus 4 [1849]: 620). With the whole phrase compare Callimachus Hymn to Apollo 80–81, where Apollo’s βωμοί | ἄνθεα μὲν φορέουσιν ἐν εἴαρι τόσσα περ Ὧραι (hence ὅσσα for οἷα here coni. Hecker as cited above) ποικίλ’ ἀγνεῦσι. Note also Nicander Alexipharmaca 232–233 τοῖα περ ὥραι | εἰαριναὶ φορέουσιν. [90] At Himerius Oration 38.19 the Charites, juxtaposed with Aphrodite and the Horae, are ῥοδόφοροι.
3 – 6 : the same five flowers are listed in Moschus’ Europa 63–71 and (with the addition of ἀγαλλίδες) in Homeric Hymn to Demeter 6–9. Richardson on the latter passage suggests that “the list may be a traditional epic one, occurring also in an early epic version of the Rape of Europa.” Homeric Hymn to Demeter 426–428 has much the same list as the Cypria and Moschus, again with the addition of ἀγαλλίδες, but this time with the further replacement of ἴα by λείρια (cf. Cratinus fr. 105.2 KA λειρίοις, ῥόδοις, κρίνοισιν, … ἴοις). Four of the flowers mentioned here (narcissus, crocus, hyacinth, and rose) occur as constituents of a garland in Meleager Palatine Anthology 5.147 = Hellenistic Epigrams 4236–4241 and three of them in an extremely lacunose fragment of Pindar (Dith. IV = fr. 70d (c) 2–3 ]σ̣ι τε ῥόδ[ων] |[ ]ὑακινθ̣ ̣ ̣ν̣ κρόκω [ν τ(ε)). Note also Sappho fr. 94.12–13 LP πό[λλοις γὰρ στεφάν]οις ἴων |[καὶ βρ[όδων… ] κίων τ’ ὔμοι, where Page ad loc. (Sappho and Alcaeus p. 78) declares of the possible supplements κρο]κίων and σφα]κίων “neither has anything to recommend it, either intrinsically or in relation to the context.” Compare also the garden of the Nymphs in Longus 2.3 ἦρος ῥόδα καὶ κρίνα καὶ ὑακίνθος καὶ ἴα ἀμφότερα.
3 – 4 . ἔν τε κρόκωι … | … ῥόδου τ ’ ἐνί ἄνθει: on the association of the crocus and rose see Irwin, “The Crocus and the Rose,” 154–157.
3 . ἔν τε κρόκωι ἐν θ ᾽ ὑακίνθωι: cf. Iliad III 348 (from the Διός ἀπάτη) κρόκον ἠδ’ ὑάκινθον |; Homeric Hymn XIX 25 κρόκος ἠδ’ ὑάκινθος |; Ηomeric Ηymn to Demeter 6–7 καὶ κρόκον …|… ἠδ’ ὑάκινθον 426: κρόκον… ἠδ᾽ ὑάκινθον|. On the exact identity of the second flower (a vexed question) see Gow on Theocritus Idyll X 28. For the connotations of the crocus in early Greek literature see Braswell on Pindar Pythian 4.232(c); for those of the hyacinth Richardson on Homeric Hymn to Demeter 7 and Gentili’s Anacreon (Rome 1958) 183–186.
3 – 4 . ἐν θ ’ ὑακίνθωι | ἔν τε ἴωι: cf. Moschus Europa 65–66 ἡ δ’ ὑάκινθον, ἡ δ’ ἴον. ἐν θ ᾽ ὑακίνθωι| … ῥόδου τ ’ ἐνὶ ἄνθεϊ: the same two flowers are mentioned in the context of the Judgment of Paris by Euripides Iphigenia in Aulis 1297–1298 ῥοδόεντ’ |ἄνθεα ὑακίνθινά τε θεαῖς δρέπειν.
3 – 4 . ἔν τε κρόκωι … ἐν τε ἴωι: cf. Chaeremon TrGF 1.71 F 14.13–14 ἴων … | κρόκον θ’.
4 . ἐν τε ἴωι θαλέοντι ῥόδου τ ’ ἐvὶ ἄνθεϊ καλῶι: for other passages from Greek literature which mention violets and roses together see Davies and Finglass on Stesichorus fr. 88.3. Note especially Pindar fr. 75.17 ἴων φόβαι ῥόδα τε κόμαισι μείγνυται in a similarly vernal context (see page 64 above) and Longus 2.3. For the characteristics and connotations of the two flowers see Richardson on Homeric Hymn to Demeter 6 and Gentili, Anacreon. Roses are associated with Aphrodite and spring in Apuleius Metamorphoses X 9 (the Judgment of Paris: see page 63 above) with spring in Ovid Fasti V 194, Rhianus Palatine Anthology 12.58.4 = Hellenistic Epigrams 3207. For their relevance to Aphrodite see commentary on Stesichorus as cited.
4 – 5 . ῥόδου τ ’ ἐνὶ ἄνθεϊ καλῶι | ἡδεῖ νεκταρέωι: Griffin (1977:50–51) finds the piling-up of epithets here “feeble because all three are absolutely general so that between them they add nothing to the name of the rose.” For phrases like “lovely flower of the rose” (or “flower of the lovely rose”) see Gow and Page on Meleager Palatine Anthology 5.136.5 = Hellenistic Epigrams 4226 (2.632: Greek examples) and Nisbet and Hubbard on Horace Odes II 3.14 (Latin). “ἡδύς is a metrically convenient and therefore common epithet for flowers” (Gow and Page, Hellenistic Epigrams 2.625, citing instances from the Anthology).
5 . νεκταρέωι: in Homer this adjective is used only of garments (Iliad III 385, XVIII 25). Here it is applied to a fragrant flower of spring, as at Pindar fr. 75.15 εὔοδμον ἐπάγοισιν ἔαρ φυτὰ νεκτάρεα.
5 – 6 . ἔν τ ’ ἀμβροσίαις καλύκεσσι , | ἄνθεσι: since καλυκές can also refer, as in Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite (whose context is so similar: see page 60 above) 87 and 163 as well as Iliad XVIII 401, to a woman’s adornment (“presumably decorative rosettes”: Edwards ad loc.: see further Faulkner on the first Homeric Hymn passage), the present rather odd apposition may be meant to avoid potential ambiguity (cf. Parlato 2007b:146–147, seeing an example of “synonymous apposition” and citing Chantraine, Grammaire Homerique 2.12 on the appositional construction). If this construction seems rather awkward, it perhaps suits our poet’s style. It is certainly preferable to A. Ludwich’s emendation of the last word to αἰθέσι (Coniectaneorum in Athenaeum vol. 1 [Königsberg 1901] 7–8: the sense thus provided [“shining, blazing”] is quite inappropriate); or to Citelli’s deletion (p. 747 of his 2001 text of Athenaeus) of the word as a gloss. Wackernagel (1916:183) observes that the Attic datives ἀμβροσίαις here and κεφαλαῖσιν, in F5.3 need not derive from the Cypria’s author. Cf. F5.2n.
6 . ναρκίσσου: associated with spring again in, for instance, Meleager Palatine Anthology 5.144.2 = Hellenistic Epigrams 4157, the flower is not mentioned by Homer or Hesiod: it appears in Homeric Hymn to Demeter 8 (see Richardson ad loc.). καὶ λειρίου: this brilliant correction of the manuscripts’ καλλιρρόου [91] (first put forward by Meineke ap. E. Gerhard, “Griechische Vasen,” Archäologische Zeitung 3 [1845]: 29, and at almost the same time [92] by Bothe, “Kritische Analecta zu Athenaeus,” Rheinisches Museum 5 [1846]: 302; approved by e.g. Köchly, Coniectaneorum Epicorum Fasculus 1, 8 = Opuscula Philologica 1.228) seems confirmed by the parallels thus established with Homeric Hymn to Demeter 426–428 κρόκον τ’ ἀγανὸν … ἠδ’ ὑάκινθον | καὶ ῥοδέας κάλυκας καὶ λείρια … | νάρκισσόν θ’ and our ἔν τε κρόκωι ἐν θ’ ὑακίνθωι ἐν … ῥόδου τ’ ἐνὶ ἄνθεϊ καλῶι | ἐν τ᾽ … | ἄνθεσι ναρκίσσου καὶ λειρίου. Note too Cratinus fr. 105.2 KA λειρίοις, ῥόδοις, κρίνοισιν, … ἴοις. On λειρία see Richardson’s note on Homeric Hymn to Demeter as cited (the word is not found in Homer, who has however λειριόεις at Iliad XIII 830 and III 152). Kaibel’s καλλίχροα … Ἀφροδίτη [93] is ingenious (cf. χρόα καλὸν ἀλειψαμένη [quoted page 61 above] of Hera’s preparation for the Διὸς ἀπάτη and note that most of the parallel passages listed and cited on pages 60–62 start and end with a mention of χρῶς: compare χροϊ in line 1), but the word is not otherwise attested. The adjective καλλιπνόου (conjectured here by Ludwich, as cited in 5–6n) is certainly applied to flowers at Hesychius s.v. and Porphyrius’ Introduction to Ptolemy’s Apotelesmata (Catalogus Codicum Astrologicorum Graecorum vol. 5 (Brussels 1910), part 3, p. 191, line 25, edd. Boer and Weinstock). But “you can always find something in Hesychius” (West on Hesiod Theogony 243) and Porphyrius’ third century AD is rather a late date for a parallel. The only relatively early instance of the adjective (Melanippides 806.1 PMGF) uses it with a different sense, of wind instruments. τοῖ ’… εἵματα ἕστο: this seems the likeliest correction, and neatly closes the ring that opened lines 1–3 εἵματα μὲν χροϊ ἕστο | … | οἷα. (The emendation is attributed to Meineke in Dindorf’s edition of Athenaeus [Leipzig 1827] 3.1520. Meineke later [e.g. ap. Gerhard, “Griechische Vasen,” Archäologische Zeitung 3 (1845): 29, Analecta Critica ad Athenaeum 4 (1866): 332] preferred to combine Canter’s οἷα with his own εἵματα ἕσται, under the misapprehension that our fragment describes the self-adornment of Helen.)
7 . ὥραις παντοίαις: cf. | ὥρηισιν πάσηισι at Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 102. The phrase has offended several scholars; e.g. Köchly (Coniectaneorum Epicorum Fasculus 1, 8 = Opuscula Philologica 1.228) described it as “per se mire dictum” and added that “anni tempora … non omnia dulcibus odoribus spirant.” This was one of the motives behind his elaborate hypothesis of lacunae (7–8 = 227–228): ναρκίσσου {θαλεροῦ} καὶ λειρίου, {οἷά τε γαῖα |ὥραις εἰαριναῖς φύει ἄνθεα·} τοῖ᾽ Ἀφροδίτη, κτλ. Likewise (though less drastically), Meineke (Analecta Critica ad Athenaeum 4 [1866]: 332) proposed ὀδμαῖς for ὥραις. But if we take the datives with ἕστο rather than τεθυωμένα as does, for instance, Huxley 1969:30, we have, what Griffin (1977:51) notes and deplores, “a pun … between the personified Horae and the impersonal seasons: the Horae made the garments, which Aphrodite wore ὥραις παντοίαις.” See further Faulkner on Hymn to Aphrodite 102, suggesting the phrase might conceivably mean “ ‘in every due season’, i.e every spring when there are spring flowers,” but preferring “ ‘in all seasons’, i.e. ‘all year round,’ ” and quoting Aristophanes Clouds 308–310 θεῶν| θυσίαι θαλίαι τε παντοδαπαῖσιν| ὥραις, where “the reference is to many gods and thus to many different seasons of worship.” For the relationship between Ὥραι and ὥραι see Gruppe, Gr. Myth. 2.1063n3, Wilamowitz, Glaube der Hellenen 1.191. εἵματα ἕστο|: for this phrase at the end of a line see Odyssey xvii 203, 338 and xxiv 158. With the τεθυωμένα εἵματα cf. ἔλαιον τεθυωμένον in Iliad XIV 172 (cited in full page 61 above) and the ἄμβροτα εἵματ᾽… τεθυωμένα conjectured by Barnes at Homeric Hymn to Apollo 184 (τεθυώδεα codd: εὐωδέα Pierson). Faulkner on Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 63 cites other examples of fragrant garments associated with deities.
F5 Athenaeus
Pergit Athenaeus.
οὗτος ὁ ποιητὴς καὶ τὴν τῶν στεφάνων χρῆσιν εἰδὼς φαίνεται δι’ ὧν λέγει·
ἣ δὲ σὺν ἀμφιπόλοισι φιλομμειδὴς Ἀφροδίτη
〈 〉
πλεξάμεναι στεφάνους εὐώδεας, ἄνθεα γαίης,
ἂν κεφαλαῖσιν ἔθεντο θεαὶ λιπαροκρήδεμνοι,
Νύμφαι καὶ Χάριτες, ἅμα δὲ χρυσῆ Ἀφροδίτη,
5καλὸν ἀείδουσαι κατ’ ὄρος πολυπιδάκου Ἴδης.
〈 〉
πλεξάμεναι στεφάνους εὐώδεας, ἄνθεα γαίης,
ἂν κεφαλαῖσιν ἔθεντο θεαὶ λιπαροκρήδεμνοι,
Νύμφαι καὶ Χάριτες, ἅμα δὲ χρυσῆ Ἀφροδίτη,
5καλὸν ἀείδουσαι κατ’ ὄρος πολυπιδάκου Ἴδης.
This poet clearly knows the use of garlands, concerning which he says:
Laughter-loving Aphrodite, together with her attendants <…> plaiting fragrant garlands out of flowers of the earth, they set them upon their heads, the goddesses with their bright head-bands, the Nymphs and Graces, and with them golden Aphrodite, with fair song down the mountain of Ida rich in springs …
lacunam post v. 1 posuit Kaibel (lacunam post v. 2 iam posuit Meineke, Athenaeum ibi πλεξάμενη tradidisse ratus): obloquitur Braswell, Glotta 60 (1982): 221 2 γαίης: ποίης Hecker 3 ἐν κεφαλήισιν Meineke
1 . ἡ δὲ σὺν ἀμφιπόλοισι: cf. Odyssey vi 109 ὧς ἥ γ’ ἀμφιπόλοισι, 217 δὴ ῥα τότ’ ἀμφιπόλοισι, 260 τόφρα συν ἀμφιπόλοισι (all at the start of a line and all referring to Nausicaa’s attendants). This line should be added to those cited by West on Hesiod Theogony 201 in favor of his contention that “when [Aphrodite] joins the gods she never goes unattended.” φιλομμειδὴς Ἀφροδίτη: the phrase ends a hexameter at Iliad III 424, IV 10, V 375, XIV 211, XX 40; Odyssey viii 362; Hesiod Theogony 989; Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 17, 49, 56, 65, 155. For other epic occurrences of the epithet, its significance, and connotations see A. Heubeck, “ἈΦΡΟΔΙΤΗ ΦΙΛΟΜΜΗΔΗΣ,” Beiträge zur Namenforschung 16 (1965): 204–206 = Kleine Schriften 265–267; D. D. Boedeker, Aphrodite’s Entry into Greek Epic (Mnemosyne Suppl. 31 [1974]) 23–25 and 32–34 (cf. 20).
On the question of the likelihood or not of a lacuna after this line (Meineke) or after the next (Kaibel) see the important remarks of B. K. Braswell, “A Grammatical Note on Cypria fr. 4 K,” Glotta 60 (1982): 221–225, observing that Meineke’s view (Analecta Critica ad Athenaeum 4 [1866]: 332) was based upon his erroneous belief that line 2 began with πλεξάμενη (on the possible source of this error see Braswell 223n18: he confirms [223n11] that -μεναι is the right reading, and a line beginning thus is precisely what Meineke supposed to be contained within the lacuna). Braswell himself prefers to find here an example of the rare constructio ad sensum whereby “a does something together with b” takes a plural verb (cf. Braswell 223–224 and 225n22). West (2013:77) approves and adds further instances of the construction.
2. πλεξάμεναι στεφάνους: compare Apuleius Metamorphoses X 32 (see page 63 above) Gratiae … Horae … iaculis floris serti … deam suam propitiantes; cf. Ovid Fasti V 219–220 accedunt Charites, nectuntque coronas | sertaque caelestes implicitura comas. At her wedding to Dionysus, Ariadne was garlanded and received the garlands παρ᾽ Ὡρῶν … καὶ Ἀφροδίτης according to Epimenides FGrHist 457 F 19 = Vorsokratiker 3 B 25. Boedeker (as above in 1n, 27–28) notes that the epithet εὐστέφανος is often used of Aphrodite and various nymphs. See further Faulkner on Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 6 and West on Hesiod Theogony 578. For garlands worn at the Judgment on vase paintings see Raab 1972:84, Blech, Studien zum Kranz bei den Griechen (Berlin 1982) 336, 453–454. στεφάνους εὐώδεας , ἄνθεα γαίης: for this sort of apposition cf. [Hesiod] Theogony 576: στεφάνους νεοδηλέας (-έος Rzach), ἄνθεα ποίης (O. Lendle, Die “Pandorasage” bei Hesiod [Würzburg 1957] 34–35 derives that line from ours). Compare the sweet-smelling clothing of F4.5. ἄνθεα γαίης: Hecker’s ἄνθεα ποίης (proposed in “Epistolae Criticae ad F. G. Schneidewin V,” Philologus 5 [1850]: 423: he compared the same phrase at line-end in Odyssey ix 449) is (as West on Hesiod Theogony 576 well observes) supported by the occurrence of the same phrase at Homeric Hymn XXX 15, Hesiod Theogony 576 (where Scheer proposed γαίης in light of the present fragment), Apollonius of Rhodes I 1143, III 898; Dionysius Periegetes 756; [Oppian] Cynegetica II 198; Quintus of Smyrna XIV 207. Note that at Nonnus Dionysiaca XIV 172 the manuscript has ἄνθεα γαίης corrected to ποίης. ἄνθεα γαίης occurs in Dionysius Periegetes 754 (two lines before ἄνθεσι ποίης). ἂν κεφαλαῖσιν ἔθεντο: cf. Hesiod Theogony 578 (on Pandora) ἀμφὶ δέ οἱ στεφάνην χρυσέην κεφαλῆφι ἔθηκε, Iliad X 261 ἀμφὶ δὲ οἱ κυνέην κεφαλῆφιν ἔθηκε. On the “Attic dative” see F4.5n. Meineke’s conjecture ἐν κεφαλῆισι (Analecta Critica ad Athenaeum 4 [1866]: 332) removes it.
3 – 4 . θεαὶ λιπαροκρήδεμνοι | Νύμφαι καὶ Χάριτες: for this sort of pattern (θεός or θέα in singular or plural, followed by epithet followed by name or names of the divinity or divinities) see West on Hesiod Works and Days 73, Wackernagel, “Über einige antike Anredformulen,” Kleine Schriften 2.988–989. Compare and contrast Iliad XXIV 615–616 (θεάων … | Νυμφάων); Hesiod fr. 123.1 MW (Νύμφαι θεαί), Works and Days 73 (Χάριτές τε θεαί).
4 . λιπαροκρήδεμνοι|: cf. Χάρις λιπαροκρήδεμνος | in Iliad XVIII 382, Ἑκάτη λιπαροκρήδεμνος| in Ηomeric Ηymn to Demeter 25 and 438, Ῥέη λιπαροκρήδεμνος | in Ηomeric Ηymn to Demeter 459 and see Richardson’s note on the second passage cited.
4 – 5 . Νύμφαι καὶ Χάριτες … | καλόν ἀείδουσαι: the Charites are often associated with music and/or the Muses: see West on Hesiod Theogony 64. For their association with Aphrodite see Faulkner on Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 61. On the identity of the Νύμφαι and in particular their similarity to the Charites and Horae see Wilamowitz, Glaube der Hellenen 1.185–193, esp. 191. Cf. perhaps Anacreon 357.2–3 Νύμφαι … | πορφυρῆ τ’ Ἀφροδίτη. On their connection with music see J. Larson, Greek Nymphs: Myth, Cult, Lore (Oxford 2001), general index s.v. “Muses … conflated with nymphs”; on their connection with mountains (such as Ida here) see West on Hesiod Theogony 130, Larson, general index s.v. “mountains.” χρυσῆ Ἀφροδίτη|: a common Homeric line-ending (Iliad XXII 470; Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 93 [nominative], Iliad V 427, Iliad III 64, Odyssey iv 14 (genitive), Iliad XIX 282, XXIV 699, Odyssey viii 337, 342, xvii 37, xix 154 (dative). For Hesiodic occurrences see W. D. Meier, “Die Epische Formel im pseudohesiodeischen Frauen-katalog” (diss. Zurich 1976) 32–33. Homeric and Hesiodic manuscripts consistently give the contracted form of the adjective in this and similar formulae but the uncontracted elsewhere: see West on Hesiod Theogony 822; Chantraine, Grammaire Homerique 1.65–66; Schwyzer, Griechische Grammatik 1.51n2. For an attempt to explain the word’s application to Aphrodite see D. Boedeker, Aphrodite’s Entry, 22–23.
5 . καλὸν ἀείδουσαι: cf. Iliad I 473 καλὸν ἀείδοντες παιήονα. πολυπιδάκου Ἴδης: the Iliad has πολυπυίδακα applied to Ἴδην thrice (VIII 47, XIV 283, XV 151: see too Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 68, Homeric Hymn XIX 30) and the genitival phrase πολυπίδακος Ἴδης ends the line at Iliad XIV 157 and 307, XX 59 and 218, and XXIII 117. For the epithet as applied to Mount Ida “because of the general number of rivers which flow from it” see Faulkner on Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 54, appending an account of its later application. Compare oὐρεῖαν πιδάκων at Andromache 283–284 in the context of the Judgment of Paris (see Jouan 1966:101n5). Σ XIV 157 (3.593 Erbse), Σ XX 59 (5.14 Erbse) and Σ XXIII 117 (5.387 Erbse) apprise us that this form of the genitive was preferred by Aristarchus to the v.l. πολυπιδάκου. We find this not only in the present passage, but at line-end in Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 54 and as a v.l. in Iliad XIV 157, Plato Laws 681E; cf. Strabo 602. For discussion of the radical o-stem genitive –δάκου as opposed to the athematic -δάκος which sometimes appears as variant see F. Sommer, Zur Geschichte der griechischen Nominalkomposita (Abhandlungen der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, phil.-hist. Klasse 27 [1948]) 69–70, suggesting influence by analogy from πολυπτύχου Ἴδης; Van der Valk (1964:187–188), who concludes from Plato’s instance (he does not mention the Cypria’s) that πολυπιδάκου is the original reading which Aristarchus altered in a misconceived attempt to avoid hiatus (he is cited on Iliad XIV 157 as finding the form τελέως ἀγροικόν); and R. Janko, Homer, Hesiod and the Hymns (Cambridge 1982) 170, who observes that “there are numerous examples of athematic adjectives that shifted to thematic declension, regardless of dialect” (cf. his remarks in “A Note on the Etymologies of διάκτορος and χρυσάορος,” Glotta 56 [1978]: 192–195). See further Faulkner on the Hymn to Aphrodite passage. For the idea that nymphs, Muses, etc., have dancing-places in the mountains see Hesiod Theogony 7 and West ad loc., Larson, Greek Nymphs, general index s.v. “dance.”
The Judgment of Paris
The bibliography on this topic is unsurprisingly vast. Two handy treatments of the subject as a whole are T. C. W. Stinton’s Euripides and the Judgment of Paris (1965) and Jouan 1966:95–109 (with bibliography on 95). Both studies are vitiated by their failure to take into account the important (though hard to come by: I am grateful to R. Kassel for procuring me a Xerox copy) contribution by G. Wentzel, “Die Entführung der Helene: Bemerkungen zu der ovidischen Epistel des Paris,” (1890) i–viii, which anticipates several of their conclusions. On Cratinus’ treatment of the event in his Dionysalexandros cf. Kassel and Austin PCG IV.141 On the evidence of art see Raab 1972 passim; LIMC s.v. “Paridis Iudicium” VII 1, pp. 176–188.
The question of whether Homer knew of the Judgment of Paris was already posed in antiquity apropos Iliad XXIV 27–30:
ἀλλ᾽ ἔχον ὥς σφιν πρῶτον ἀπήχθετο Ἴλιος ἱρὴ
καὶ Πρίαμος καὶ λαὸς ‘Αλεξάνδρου ἕνεκ’ ἄτης,
ὃς νείκεσσε θεάς, ὅτε οἱ μέσσαυλον ἵκοντο,
τὴν δ’ ἤινησ’ ἥ οἱ πόρε μαχλοσύνην ἀλεγεινήν.
καὶ Πρίαμος καὶ λαὸς ‘Αλεξάνδρου ἕνεκ’ ἄτης,
ὃς νείκεσσε θεάς, ὅτε οἱ μέσσαυλον ἵκοντο,
τὴν δ’ ἤινησ’ ἥ οἱ πόρε μαχλοσύνην ἀλεγεινήν.
Cf. K. Reinhardt, Das Parisurteil (Frankfurt 1938) = Tradition und Geist pp. 16–36 = Homer: German Scholarship in Translation (Oxford 1997) 170–191; Jouan 1966:98n2. Aristarchus’ attitude at first sight seemed irreproachable: τὴν περὶ τοῦ κάλλους κρίσιν οὐκ οἶδεν· πολλαχῆι γὰρ ἂν ἐμνήσθη (Σ A ad loc. [5.522 Erbse]: cf. Severyns, 1928:261–264). The discovery of the ivory comb from Sparta which is our earliest evidence for the legend (see page 53 above) showed that the story was not, after all, a late invention, for the comb is to be dated ca. 620. It is indeed difficult, as Reinhardt insists, to imagine the Trojan War and the main features of the Iliad’s plot without the Judgment of Paris as ultimate cause and ἀρχὴ κακῶν. He explained its near absence in terms of its unheroic atmosphere, redolent of folktale and allegory, and thus alien to the epic style deployed by Homer. The hatred felt by Hera and Athena towards Troy as a result of Paris’ slighting verdict is maintained by the Iliad while the event that it presupposes is kept from sight until near the end. That hatred, thus unexplained, becomes impressive, malignant, and sinister. [94] For the further suggestion that Hector’s visit to Troy in Iliad VI presupposes the story see my article “The Judgments of Paris and Solomon,” Classical Quarterly 53 (2003): 32–43. At the very least one must concur with Stinton’s conclusion (1965:4 = 19): “What Reinhardt shows is that the Iliad is consistent with Homer’s having known the story; and the burden of proof now lies on those who say he did not.” West contends in “Mythological and Political Interpolations in Homer,” Eikasmos 26 (2015): 21 that “the poet may or may not have known the story … but he failed to mention it in connection with Hera’s hatred of Troy at IV 31–36.” This is to overlook Reinhardt’s stress on the frighteningly unexplained nature of that hatred, as well as the poet’s presumed understanding of female psychology.
Visual art has bequeathed us a wealth of details whose ultimate derivation from the Cypria is uncertain (see Raab 1972:23–34). [95] So vase paintings sometimes depict Paris as playing on his lyre before or as the goddesses come upon him (cf. Raab 1972:61–66, esp. 62 [Kithara] and 65 [Lyra], a detail Rzach cautiously attributed to our epic [1922:2382–2383, quoting Iliad III 54–55: οὐκ ἄν τοι χραίσμηι κίθαρις τά τε δῶρ᾽ Ἀφροδίτης | ἥ τε κόμη τό τε εἶδος]). Anchises is similarly presented in Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 79–80 (ὁ δὲ σταθμοῖσι λελειμμένος οἶος ἀπ᾽ ἄλλων | πωλεῖτ᾽ ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα διαπρύσιον κιθαρίζων) as a sequel to the description of Aphrodite’s beautification, which, as we saw above (page 67), is closely paralleled in the Cypria. Are we to suppose that “the similarity … extended to the figure of the solitary herdsman playing his lyre” (Stinton 1965:62 = 64)? If so, we can the more readily agree with the same scholar (61n4 = 61n40) that when Colluthus equips Paris with a syrinx rather than a lyre, it “is more likely a Hellenistic modification than an original feature of the Cypria.”
Or again, as Stinton (1965:11 = 25) puts it, “In one type of black-figure painting, Paris displays alarm and reluctance; he turns to flee, and is sometimes forcibly restrained by Hermes.” For a full list of such vases see Raab 1972:163–168 (167–168 on the few examples that are not Attic black-figure): they constitute her class A II. Cf. LIMC s.v. “Paridis Iudicium” C, p. 178. The same tradition of initial trepidation is preserved in literature by Ovid Heroides XVI 67–68 and Triphiodorus 103. The reaction is surely perfectly reasonable for a mortal: χαλεποὶ δὲ θεοὶ φαίνεσθαι ἐναργεῖς (Iliad XX 131) is a statement that most Greeks would have understood, and Priam in Iliad XXIV 169–171 finds the appearance of Iris as disquieting as Helen finds Aphrodite’s in Iliad III 390–420. The idea is not totally without parallel in art (cf. M. Robertson ap. Stinton 1965:12n1 = 25–26n49). Now, as Rzach, for instance, hypothesized (1922:2383.4–7), this striking picture of Paris’ flight may derive ultimately from the Cypria, where Hermes may have restrained him. [96] But it would be rash to follow the further deduction drawn, for instance, by Wentzel (1890:x), that the picture is only explicable if we assume that Paris knows nothing of his royal birth and presumes he is a simple, humble shepherd. Even Stinton goes too far, I believe, in arguing (1965:11 = 25) that such perturbation “is less appropriate to the prince of Troy than to the solitary herdsman, fearful at the invasion of his privacy.” Nor, indeed, need the detail signify, as Rzach (1922:2383.6–7) supposed, that he wished to evade his responsibilities (“dass dieser sich im Epos dem heiklen Urteilsspruch entziehen wollte”). As we have just seen, Paris’ royal father trembles at the approach of Iris in the last book of the Iliad, and his son might well react even more violently to finding his rural peace disturbed by three far more formidable and significant goddesses. Stinton is closer to the truth when he concedes that Paris’ “reaction to a divine epiphany is natural enough even in a royal hero” (11 = 25; cf. his 11n3 = 25n45). The question whether Paris’ exposure and consequent recognition featured within the Cypria must continue to torment those who thirst for this type of information. For bibliography see I. Karamanov, Euripides, Alexandros: Introduction, Text, and Commentary (Texte und Kommentare 57) (Berlin 2017) 10–11.
Proclus Chrestomathia: καὶ προκρίνει τὴν Ἀφροδίτην ἐπαρθεὶς τοῖς Ἑλένης γάμοις Ἀλέξανδρος.
Paris judges Aphrodite to be the prize-winner, excited at the prospect of union with Helen.
It is distressing to have to acknowledge that we know nothing more about the earliest and perhaps the fullest poetic treatment of this event than what is contained within this meager and uninformative sentence. Scholars have reacted to this deprivation by assuming almost boundless rights to speculate about the details that must have originally fleshed out this now very bare skeleton, and we must shortly steel ourselves to examine the fruits of this speculation. First, however, let us make sure that we have squeezed the above sentence quite dry of information.
Wentzel (1890:vi) drew two momentous conclusions from the nine words in question. Firstly he supposed that, if Aphrodite successfully swayed Paris’ mind by mention of Helen, then Hera and Athena must have tried a similar ploy. Secondly he deduced that Paris will have reached his final verdict not by considering the beauty of the individual goddesses, but by estimating the appeal of the bribes they offered. These conclusions have independently found favor with several scholars (e.g. Jouan 1966:103). Later ancient authors supply the details of the entrancing prospects held out by the other goddesses (fame and glory in battle from Athena; royal pomp and power from Hera). The Euripidean passages that elaborate this material are handily assembled by Wentzel (v–vi). Later sources are listed in Jouan 103n3. As Stinton points out in connection with Euripides’ insistence at Andromache 287–290 that words and not the beauty of the goddesses won the day: “this is the device whereby the ‘choice of lives’ motif is adapted to the beauty contest” (1965:19 = 31). Isocrates Helen 42 explained that Paris deliberately abandoned the futile task of attempting to compare the incomparable, τῶν δωρεῶν ἀναγκασθεὶς γενέσθαι κριτής. This may look like a late rationalization, but Stinton (1965:19n2 =31n16) observes a folktale parallel.
“In the familiar version of the legend Helen was named as the prize. There was, however, a variant in which Paris was simply promised a beautiful but unidentified bride” (E. J. Kenney, “Two Disputed Passages in the Heroides,” Classical Quarterly 29 [1979]: 406, citing the relevant evidence there and in n36). The relationship of the second to the first is rather cloudy, and the second is anyway only sparsely and late attested. It would be paradoxical, then, to argue that τοῖς Ἑλένης γάμοις in Proclus could be short-hand for this second tradition. For the phrase compare Isocrates Helen 41: Ἀφροδίτης [scil. διδούσης] δὲ τὸν γάμον τῆς Ἑλένης.
In Proclus’ summary we pass straight from the conclusion of the Judgment to the fateful building of the ship which brought Paris to Greece, and nothing is said of any recognition of Paris by his parents and family, just as nothing was said earlier about an exposure of the infant Paris (see pages 71–72 above). We are thus arrived at the great debate over whether (as Welcker [2.90] supposed) the Cypria mentioned this section of the saga of Paris; for a brief bibliography see Karamanov as cited on previous page.
The silence of Proclus as to any given detail of the epics he summarizes is seldom decisive. In the present case, if the Cypria had inserted a small digression explaining that Paris had dwelt on Ida since infancy, it would be both awkward and inappropriate to include an equivalent parenthesis within the smooth summary that passes seamlessly from Olympus to the Judgment on earth. One might think that a brief allusion to Paris’ recognition after the Judgment would be far easier to accommodate, but that too is missing from Proclus. In other words, I happen to find Proclus’ failure to mention this particular detail rather more significant than his failure to mention the apple in connection with Eris (see page 56 above). But such purely subjective impressions cannot hope to be taken very seriously.
In a search for more reliable evidence, some scholars (e.g. Snell in his treatment of Euripides’ Alexandros [Hermes Einzelschr. 5 (1935)] 58 or Stinton [1965:51–52 = 56–57]) have resorted to such late authors as Colluthus 194–198 and Dares the Phrygian, who resemble Proclus’ summary in having Paris’ embarkation follow directly upon the Judgment with no intervening scene of recognition. Jouan (1966:136) ridicules the testimony of such “auteurs tardifs,” but their very lateness is, if anything, an index of their dependence upon some far earlier and more authoritative account. The tradition of Paris’ exposure and the consequent reunion with his family was long established by the time these writers came to handle the subject. Would they have ventured upon this striking rejection of the usual account unless they had some early and venerable source as warrant for their autoschediasm?
These arguments are paper-thin, I will be the first to admit. They are considerably thicker, I would nonetheless suggest, than those used by Jouan (1966:136–137) to support his contrary thesis that the Cypria was acquainted with the story of Paris’ abandonment and recovery. That this epic shared some not very individual motifs with the Euripidean Alexandros would be no proof that the latter is an infallible guide to the contents of the former, after all; but this is about the strongest evidence that Jouan is able to adduce. The exposure and return are certainly familiar by the time of Pindar’s Eighth Paean and the creation of the Briseis Painter’s cup (from the Late Archaic period: Louvre G151: ARV2 406.8: LIMC s.v. “Alexandros” C 17). The former alludes to Hecuba’s prophetic dream [97] (see page 97 below); the latter has been interpreted (by Robert, Bild und Lied 89–95 and Beazley in ARV2 ad loc. among others) as showing Cassandra’s gesture of imprecation at Paris’ return home and his ἀναγνώρισις. Such vivid details as Paris’ arrival at Troy in search for his lost parents, his participation and supremacy in the funeral games, and his flight to the altar from the attack launched by Deiphobus are not specifically attested until Euripides’ Alexandros (produced in 415 BC). The history of the legend as marked out by these scattered sign posts has been variously reconstructed: see Karamanov as cited on page 73.
What concerns us most immediately here is what we can claim to know about the Cypria’s handling of events following upon the Judgment. And the most accurate and dispassionate conclusion must be that, as we have seen, there is no evidence worth mentioning to indicate that Paris’ exposure and later recognition featured in our epic and a little evidence (albeit late) to suggest the possibility of a coherent narrative of the Judgment of Paris and its sequel in which neither of those interconnected motifs plays any part. [98]
Helen and Her Abduction
On this general topic L. Edmunds, Stealing Helen: The Myth of the Abducted Wife in Comparative Perspective (Princeton 2016), esp. 126–129, is indispensable. On Nemesis as Helen’s mother see his general index s.v.
We have seen above (page 18) that the once-popular assumption that Zeus’ begetting of Helen followed on directly in the Cypria from the initial and all-embracing plan of Zeus grows less attractive on examination. W. Kullmann, “Ein vorhomerisches Motiv im Iliasproomium,” Philologus 99 (1955): 183–184 = Homerische Motive 26–27 has performed a valuable service in reminding us of the difficulties inherent in the notion that the present fragment could have occurred anywhere near F1. [99] In the first place, the reference to the Dioscuri in line 1 securely removes the episode within which it occurs from the ambit of Zeus’ grand scheme: for Castor and Polydeuces have no connection with this at all, are indeed whisked from the stage before the Trojan War ever begins. And the phrasing of the very first line strongly suggests that our fragment belongs to a context where the Dioscuri and Helen are the central point of concern, and the manner of Helen’s begetting and the identity of her mother are merely secondary and digressive. This impression is confirmed by the tell-tale ποτε of line 2, which identifies the passage as an excursus: it is inconceivable that this vague and indefinite word could ever have been used if the poet were describing the more or less immediate sequel of the Διὸς βουλή. The two γάρs in lines 4–5 merely confirm this: they identify the contents therein related as details incidental to the episode’s main concern.
So much for demolition: is there anything to put in the place of the theory we have excluded? We are looking for a portion of the Cypria where a mention of the Dioscuri and Helen will have been central, and can have given rise to a discursus on their birth. When such vast regions of the poem have been consigned to oblivion we would do well to abandon all claims to certainty. But it is striking that, according to Proclus, the Cypria had Paris entertained by the Dioscuri before proceeding to Menelaus’ palace: ἐπιβὰς δὲ τῆι Λακεδαιμονίαι ξενίζεται, παρὰ τοῖς Τυνδαρίδαις, καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα ἐν τῆι Σπάρτηι παρὰ Μενελάωι.
Carl Robert (Bild und Lied 238–239) went even further and suggested that the lines come from a set of instructions given by Aphrodite to Paris after the Judgment. We know, again from Proclus, that the goddess gave some ideas and encouragement to Paris: ἔπειτα δὲ Ἀφροδίτης ὑποθεμένης ναυπηγεῖται [scil. Ἀλέξανδρος]: cf. ἡ Ἀφροδίτη Αἰνείαν συμπλεῖν αὐτῶι κελεύει. (She might have added information as to where to stay.) However, other possible resting-places for our lines are not difficult to find. A region within the prophecies of Cassandra or of Helenus would be one such, and Paris’ visit to the Dioscuri (cf. Welcker 2.92) another. I offer these, and mention Robert’s hypothesis, not because I strongly support any of them, but in order to give concrete proof of the extent of our ignorance, and to ram home the relative superiority of these speculations at least in comparison with the notion that F7–F8 can be in any way a direct sequel to F1.
Before we can compare the Cypria’s version of Helen’s begetting with other accounts, we must be perfectly sure what is being described here. Crucial for this is W. Luppe’s article “Zeus und Nemesis in den Kyprien: Die Verwandlungssage nach Pseudo-Apollodor und Philodem,” Philologus 118 (1974): 193–202. Before Luppe wrote, scholars [100] generally assumed that the sequel to our fragment was contained in Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 10.7: [101]
Διὸς δὲ Λήδαι συνελθόντος ὁμοιωθέντος κύκνωι, καὶ κατὰ τὴν αὐτὴν νύκτα Τυνδάρεω, Διὸς μὲν ἐγεννήθη Πολυδεύκης καὶ Ἑλένη, Τυνδάρεω δὲ Κάστωρ <καὶ Κλυταιμήστρα>. λέγουσι δὲ ἔνιοι Νεμέσεως Ἑλένην εἶναι καὶ Διός. ταύτην γὰρ τὴν Διὸς φεύγουσαν συνουσίαν εἰς χῆνα τὴν μορφὴν μεταβαλεῖν, ὁμοιωθέντα δὲ καὶ Δία κύκνωι συνελθεῖν· τὴν δὲ ὠιὸν ἐκ τὴς συνουσίας ἀποτεκεῖν, τοῦτο δὲ ἐν τοῖς ἄλεσσιν εὐρόντα τινὰ ποιμένα Λήδαι κομίσαντα δοῦναι, τὴν δὲ καταθεμένην εἰς λάρνακα φυλάσσειν, καὶ χρόνωι καθήκοντι γεννηθεῖσαν Ἑλένην ὡς ἐξ αὐτὴς θυγατέρα τρέφειν.
Zeus, taking the form of a swan, had intercourse with Leda and during the same night Tyndareus did too, and the offspring of Zeus were Polydeuces and Helen while those of Tyndareus were Castor <and Clytem-nestra>. But some say that Helen was the daughter of Nemesis and Zeus. For that goddess was pursued by Zeus and she assumed goose shape. Zeus mated with her in swan shape and the egg she bore from their intercourse some shepherd found in the woods and took it to Leda. She placed it in a casket and in the course of time, when Helen was produced from it she brought her up as her own daughter.
But, as Luppe observes, there are two obstacles to this identification. In the first place, the basic rationale of this and other similar tales of metamorphosis is that the two parents assume the male and female sexes of the same animal. Compare, for instance, Pausanias VIII 25.5:
πλανωμένηι γὰρ τῆι Δήμητρι ἡνίκα τὴν παῖδα ἐζήτει, λέγουσιν ἕπεσθαί οἱ τὸν Ποσειδῶνα ἐπιθυμοῦντα αὐτῆι μιχθῆναι, καὶ τὴν μὲν ἐς ἵππον μεταβαλοῦσαν ὁμοῦ ταῖς ἵπποις νέμεσθαι.
or Hyginus Fabula 188:
Theophanen in ovem commutavit formosissimam, ipse autem in arie-tem … ipse autem ut erat aries cum Theophane concubuit ex quo natus est aries chrysomallus.
In view of these clear analogies it is hard to see why, when Nemesis had changed herself into a goose, Zeus should wish to become a swan. [102] And secondly, there are grounds for suspecting the phrase in which this anomalous piece of information is conveyed. For how exactly does one extract any sense from ὁμοιωθέντα δὲ καὶ Δία κύκνωι συνελθεῖν? We will not succeed by taking κύκνωι with ὁμοιωθέντα, for Apollodorus has just informed us that Nemesis was in the shape of a goose when Zeus coupled with her. And though we must clearly take κύκνωι with ὁμοιωθέντα, the self-same observation forbids us to interpret καὶ Δία in the obvious way that common sense demands (“Zeus too” [i.e. as well as Nemesis]). In fact, we can only make any coherent sense of the six words under consideration by injecting into κύκνωι a nuance (“Zeus changed in his case into a swan” vel sim.) that the text itself lamentably fails to provide. Willing or not, we are thus inescapably drawn to Luppe’s conclusion that κύκνωι is a marginal or interlinear gloss [103] supplied by someone aware of the more familiar account of the metamorphosis of Zeus. Delete the offending word, supply Zeus’ metamorphosed shape from the context and from the general expectations we entertain about this class of story, and you have what F8 (independently again) suggests. For there the words ἐγ]έ̣νετο κύκνος imply that the preceding metamorphoses (which include Zeus’ encounter with Nemesis) did not include the swan, and the most natural supplementation of the text has the king of gods and men transformed into a goose. The same fragment helpfully mentions the egg which this bizarre but divine congress produced.
We may conclude that the version used in the Cypria and paraphrased in Apollodorus regarded Helen as the offspring of two deities (Zeus and Nemesis) who coupled in the form of male and female geese. This is, of course, in violent contrast to the more familiar, if no less grotesque, account of her birth, which involves Leda and a swan. Here, in other words, are two basically similar explanations of how Zeus contrived to beget Helen. [104] Did they arise separately, so that these similarities are independent of each other? Or is the one version based upon the other, and if so which is original, which derivative?
There is a useful list (with bibliography) of those ancient texts which identify Nemesis “als Geliebte des Zeus und Mutter der Helena” in Hans Herter’s article on the goddess in RE 16 (1935): 2342–2348. See too B. C. Dietrich, Death, Fate, and the Gods (London 1965) 158–159, arguing for a primitive origin for “this type of myth, concerning the marriage of Zeus and a female figure or goddess in bird-shape,” which “may go back to a similar Cretan ‘Hieros Gamos.’ ” On the possible deeper significance of the story see P. M. C. Forbes Irvine, Metamorphosis in Greek Myth (Oxford 1990) 187–190.
In evaluating the above-mentioned similarities we must exclude later accounts which involve intentional motif-transference between the two forms of the story. [105] Thus, later versions endowing Nemesis too with the shape of a swan (Herter, RE 16, 2343.24–28) need not concern us here, nor those where Nemesis (like Leda) preserves her human form intact (2343.24–31), [106] still less those that specifically identify Leda and Nemesis (2344.16–23) [107] or contaminate Zeus’ initial seduction of Hera with his later seduction of Leda and apply the resulting mishmash to Nemesis. [108] Still, even when the above are left out of the account, the correspondences between the two versions are still plain.
Which came first? Earliest attested is the Nemesis story, by virtue of the very fragment now being discussed. The story of Leda and the swan, for all its familiarity and importance to the European consciousness from the Renaissance onwards, [109] does not feature in extant [110] literature until Euripides Helen 16–21 (for other Euripidean allusions to it see Kannicht ad loc.). [111] Primacy of attestation, of course, is not decisive: the shape and logic of the respective stories demand consideration too. But the incomplete evidence at our disposal suggests that Leda only began to replace Nemesis as Helen’s mother in the fourth century BC (cf. Robert, Heldensage 343; Kannicht). For discussion [112] and bibliography see Herter 2345.28–49 and Jouan 1966:145–152. Also Kannicht on Euripides Helen 16–22. These scholars are in general agreement with each other. Kannicht in particular argues strongly for the priority of the Cypria’s version. He attributes the tradition of Leda as mother of Helen to Euripidean καινοτομία artfully disguised by such phrases as ἔστιν δὲ δὴ λόγος τις or εἰ δὴ φάτις ἔτυμος and intended to smooth the way for the Helen’s sympathetic Stesichorean heroine by eliminating the unsuitably named, inappropriately symbolic Nemesis (see page 82 below). On this interpretation Zeus’ metamorphoses are based (as a “spielerische Umbildung” or a “poetisches Zitat”) upon those of Nemesis.
Against all this it must be said that, if the Cypria went on to recount how a shepherd found the egg and gave it to Leda (see page 77 above), the tradition of that heroine as Helen’s mother would seem to be presupposed, as Kannicht himself (p. 23) admits. [113] And even if this detail be denied to the Cypria, Sappho’s account (fr. 166) of how Leda finds the egg certainly predates by a very considerable stretch of time the first specific appearance of Leda’s encounter with the swan; this fact removes much of the force from the argumentum ex silentio that Kannicht applies to literature prior to the Helen. Again, Zeus’ swan-disguise is amply paralleled by a number of animal metamorphoses adopted by that god for his erotic purposes.
And why should Euripides have replaced an original goose with a swan? One might as well argue that Nemesis’ metamorphoses are based on those of Zeus. Indeed, one can very plausibly argue that these metamorphoses are secondary to a further set of similar transformations. As early as Welcker (2.132) it was recognized that (a) the stratagems which Nemesis uses against Zeus here resemble those employed by Thetis in the usual tradition to escape Peleus’ advances; (b) the wrestling match which provides the frame for those shape-changes was probably absent from the Cypria. Can the two facts be unconnected? Herter (2346.21–30) speculates that Nemesis’ metamorphoses were modeled on Thetis’, a suggestion sympathetically considered by, for instance, Lesky, RE s.v. “Peleus” 19 (1938): 298.10–12, Griffin 1977:41 = 369 etc. [114] The power of transforming one’s shape is particularly appropriate to creatures of that mutable element the sea, Nemesis is sometimes represented as daughter of Oceanus, and in lines 8–9 of our fragment Nemesis actually changes into a fish while fleeing through the sea (on the rarity of divine metamorphoses into fish in Greek myths see Wilamowitz, Glaube der Hellenen 1.147).
That the Nemesis version derives from the very old and primitive story of the Liebesringkampf between Peleus and Thetis does little to win it a specific date, or even a date relative to the alternative Leda story. What we can say is that Helen’s connection with Sparta (where she was worshiped as a goddess) and with those Spartan divinities the Dioscuri, was very ancient indeed (see e.g. West, Immortal Helen [Inaugural Lecture London 1975] 4–5 = Hellenica 1.81–82). She already features as the adopted daughter of the Spartan king Tyndareus in the Iliad, and it is hard to believe that a similar link with the Spartan queen Leda did not stretch further back in time.
The like antiquity may be postulated for Helen’s connections with Attica (cf. Herter, RE 16, 2345–2351 on these, especially, on the Attic island of Ἑλένη and the tradition of Helen’s abduction by Theseus from Aphidna; also M. Jung, Marathon und Plataiai: Zwei Perserschlachten als ‘lieux de mémoire’ im Antiken Griechenland [Hypomnemata 164 (2006)] 196–197; on the evidence of Cratinus’ Nemesis see Kassel-Austin, PCG IV 179–180). But whereas a Spartan background closely and intimately implies Leda as Helen’s mother, an Attic background does not so obviously and inevitably entail a similar relationship between Helen and the goddess worshiped at Rhamnus [115] (for Nemesis’ cult in this Attic town see Herter 2344.54–2352.50; Dietrich, Death, Fate and the Gods, 160–170, emphasizing [pp. 160, 168] Nemesis’ connection there with Themis, another goddess important for the Cypria [pages 32–35 above] and Jung as cited). There is, in fact, no evidence whatever for the popular [116] assumption that the Cypria is drawing on a long-standing local Rhamnusian tradition when it represents Nemesis as Helen’s mother. The whole conception, indeed, bears some features more characteristic of literary invention and sophisticated contrivance. The Attic associations of Nemesis are doubtless relevant, in a poem whose language and contents show so many signs of Attic influence. But the most significant feature of the role here assigned to Nemesis is likely to be the symbolic aspect of her name. Neither the notion that our present fragment followed more or less directly upon the Διὸς βουλή, nor the idea that the Cypria’s Trojan War was intended to punish mortals’ wickedness, now seems plausible. But the goddess’s name is still likely to be very meaningful (see Jouan 1966:148n4 for some scholars who take this view: add e.g. E. Laroche, Histoire de la racine nem– en grec ancien [Paris 1949] 89–91) as relating to Paris’ offense against the laws of Ζεὺς Ξενίος. For Lehrs long ago remarked (Versuch über einige religiöse und moralische Vorstellungen der Griechen [Abhandlungen der deutsche Gesellschaft Königsberg 4.1 (1838)] 163 = Populäre Aufsätze [1875] 57) that the allegory works because “die Verführung durch Alexandros … eine so schreckliche nemesis nach sich zog.” See further Mayer 1996:9–11 for the significant link between Helen and Nemesis. Herter points out a partial (though by no means complete) analogy in a vase painting that depicts the first encounter of Paris and Helen, whose fateful meeting is portrayed as aided and abetted by the presence of Aphrodite, Himeros and Peitho (Berlin inv. 30036: ARV2 1173.1: LIMC “Aphrodite” F 3, 1449): a bibliography up to the mid-1930s in Herter 2344.6368; see further L. Ghali-Kahil, Enlèvements et retour d’Hélène, 1.59–60 and LIMC. Especially important is the contribution by Wilamowitz in “Lesefrüchte,” Hermes 64 (1929): 485–486 (= Kleine Schriften 4.502–503). To the left of the scene just described we see two young women, each with her hand resting on the other’s shoulder: one is clearly labeled Nemesis; the other is explained by Wilamowitz as Tyche, who by pointing with outstretched arm to Helen and Paris is indicating to her companion (in Wilamowitz’s words) “What I (Tyche) have there allowed to succeed becomes now the concern of you (Nemesis).” Obviously this is in no sense of the word an “illustration” of the Cypria: Nemesis is not presented as the mother of Helen on our vase. [117] But her appearance on it and the significance of the family tie in the Cypria seem strongly akin. Another artifact cited in this context is a stater from Cyprus (cf. Cook, Zeus 1.280–281 and 281n1 with plate xxiii 2 LIMC s.v. “Nemesis” F 1288, F 1289), which shows Zeus enthroned on its obverse and Nemesis standing as its reverse.
I do not believe in certainty in these matters. If forced by the traditional gun at my head I would guess that the tradition of Leda as Helen’s mother came first and provided the model. The appeal of a significant name (to match the others in this poem) belonging to a goddess not unknown in Attica may well have led our composer to the replacement of Leda.
Content of F6–F7
The extremely unHomeric nature of this fragment has been commented upon by Griffin (1977:41 = 367, 48 = 369). We have already seen how alien are metamorphoses to the Homeric outlook (page 43 above) and their appearance here in connection with one of Zeus’ love affairs runs specifically counter to the absence of any suggestion of bull or swan in the cases of Europa and Leda, or shower of gold for Danaë in the catalogue of his amours which Zeus supplies at Iliad XIV 315–328. Griffin also finds “the central importance of a being like Nemesis, a transparent personification, … also unHomeric: in the Iliad such figures as Eris, Deimos and Phobos simply underline what is visibly happening on the human level, while Ate and the Litae are expounded at length only in reported speech (IX 502–507, XIX 126–9)” (1977:48 = 369). If Nemesis’ role in the Cypria underlines what happens on the human level, and if this fragment is from a reported speech (see page 77 above), the effect is still very different. Griffin might have cited Σ Hesiod Theogony 223 (p. 46 di Gregorio), which comments thus on its line’s mention of Νέμεσις: Ὃμηρος τὸ μὲν πρᾶγμα οἶδε, τὴν δὲ θεὸν οὐ (Aristarchus looks a likely source for this remark as West on Theogony 223 observes: see Severyns 1928:79).
For further unHomeric features see my commentary ad locc.
From the above discussion it follows that the testimony of Eustathius is deficient (understandably so, since it rests upon indirect evidence). Nor will we any longer (as earlier scholars did) assume that when in the Ars Poetica Horace says of Homer nec gemino bellum Troianum orditur ab ovo, | semper ad eventum festinat et in medias res | non secus ac notas auditorem rapit (147–149) he is referring to the Cypria: see Brink ad loc. (Horace on Poetry: The Ars Poetica p. 220) for scholars who have adopted and opposed this thesis.
The idea of the birth of a human being from an egg is common the world over: see Thompson, Motif-Index2 T 542, 565; M. L. Lechner’s article in Enzyklopädie des Märchens s.v. “Eier” (3.1108). But the egg may, in Helen’s case, have a deeper religious significance: see, for instance, M. L. West, Immortal Helen (Inaugural Lecture London 1975) 13 = Hellenica 1.86. It is Homer’s way to say nothing of this type of fantastic scene (cf. Griffin 1977:40–41 = 370).
Late writers (listed by Herter, RE 16, 2344.2–12) represent not only Helen but also Castor and Polydeuces as emerging from the egg laid by Nemesis. This looks like the sort of borrowing from the Leda story which we have seen (page 79 above) to be characteristic of the eventual contamination of the two traditions. That the Cypria’s egg produced Helen and Helen alone is strongly implied by the phrasing of Philodemus, the actual wording of F8 and the passage in Apollodorus just cited. See also Pausanias I 33.7:
Ἑλένηι Νέμεσιν μητέρα εἶναι λέγουσιν Ἕλληνες, Λήδαν δὲ μαστὸν ἐπισχεῖν αὐτῆι καὶ θρέψαι. πατέρα δὲ καὶ οὗτοι καὶ πάντες κατὰ ταὐτὰ Ἑλένης Δία καὶ οὐ Τυνδάρεων εἶναι νομίζουσι. ταῦτα ἀκηκοὼς Φειδίας πεποίηκεν Ἑλένην ὑπὸ Λήδας ἀγομένην παρὰ τὴν Νέμεσιν, πεποίηκε δὲ Τυνδάρεών τε καὶ τοὺς παῖδας καὶ ἄνδρα σὺν ἵππωι παρεστηκότα Ἱππέα ὄνομα.
The mention of Pheidias here should really refer to Agoracritus. As to the evi-dence of plastic art, this too tells the same story. Vase paintings that show the relevant details are handily listed and evaluated by Beazley, Etruscan Vase Painting (Oxford 1947) 39–41, with supplements in Attic Vase Paintings in Boston 3 (Boston 1963) 71–74 and more recently LIMC s.v. “Leda” VI 1 II.
F6 Clement of Alexandria
Clement of Alexandria Protrepticus II 30.4 sq. (1.22 Stählin)
προσίτω δὲ καὶ ὁ τὰ Κυπριακὰ ποιήματα γράψας·
Κάστωρ μὲν θνητός, θανάτου δέ οἱ αἶσα πέπρωται·
αὐτὰρ ὅ γ’ ἀθάνατος Πoλυδεύκης, ὄζος Ἄρηος.
αὐτὰρ ὅ γ’ ἀθάνατος Πoλυδεύκης, ὄζος Ἄρηος.
Let me cite also the author of the Cypria, who writes:
Castor was mortal, and the fate of death is allotted to him, but Polydeuces, scion of Ares, was immortal.
1 – 2 . With the phrasing of the two lines as a whole compare Hesiod Theogony 277–278 (on the three Gorgons): ἣ μὲν ἔην θνητή, αἳ δ᾽ ἀθάνατοι καὶ ἀγήρωι, | αἱ δύο· τῇι δὲ μιῇι κτλ.
1 . θανάτου δέ οἱ αἶσα πέπρωται : for this personal use of πέπρωται cf. R. Renehan, Greek Lexicographical Notes (Hypomnemata 45 [1975]) 168. Schneidewin’s μέμορται (“Zu den Bruchstücken der Homerischen Dichter,” Philologus 4 [1849]: 612, prob. Nauck, Mélanges gréco-romains, 376) is not required. Köchly’s πέπρωτο (Coniectaneorum Epicorum Fasculus 1, 8 = Opuscula Philologica 1.228) is also unnecessary: as he himself says, the fragment may be from a speech (see page 77 above), e.g. “by a god or a seer” (West 2013:80). The indifference of ancient quoters as to the exact context of cited passages is a familiar phenomenon. On the “Attic correption” in πέπρωται see F1.1n.
2 . αὐτὰρ ὃ γ ’ : this phrase frequently begins a Homeric hexameter: see Schmidt, Parallel–Homer (Göttingen 1885) 34. ὄζος Ἄρηος: a phrase that almost as frequently ends a Homeric hexameter. Again see Schmidt, p. 155 (ὄζος Ἄρηος also occurs in the same place, as he shows, though less frequently [three Iliadic instances]). It ends Hesiodic verses too: cf. frr. 12.1, 26.30, and (acc.) 175.2 MW and [Hesiod] Scutum 181. The meaning is, of course, purely metaphorical (cf. Cook, Zeus 2.438n3).
Like most features of the story to which it belongs, the idea of twins, one mortal and the other immortal, is primitive and widespread: see Thompson, Motif-Index A.116.1; J. R. Harris, The Cult of the Heavenly Twins (Cambridge 1906) 4–9; Cook, Zeus 2.435–444, 3.566; D. J. Ward, “The Separate Functions of the Indo-European Divine Twins,” in Myth and Law among the Indo-Europeans (Berkeley 1970) 193–202. In Greek myth one thinks, apart from the Dioscuri, of Amphion and Zethus [118] (cf. Asius fr. 1) or Heracles and Iphicles (cf. Pherecydes FGrHist 3 F 69); see further Usener, “Göttliche Synonyme,” Rheinisches Museum 53 (1898): 333–337 = Kleine Schriften 4.263–267. The cause of the dichotomy is regularly that one twin has a human father, and the other a divine: thus of Alcmena’s twins Heracles was begotten by Zeus, Iphicles by Amphitryon (cf. Pherecydes as cited), and Epopeus is the mortal husband of Antiope and fathers Zethus. Usually the mortal woman endures the attentions of her two lovers in quick succession, and so we read in Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 10.7:
Διὸς δὲ Λήδαι συνελθόντος ὁμοιωθέντς κύκνωι, καὶ κατὰ τὴν αὐτὴν νύκτα Τυνδάρεω, Διὸς μὲν ἐγεννήθη Πολυδεύκης καὶ Ἑλένη, Τυνδάρεω δὲ Κάστωρ <καὶ Κλυταιμήστρα>.
Cf. Σ Pindar Nemean X 80 (3.182 Drachmann). Although the reference to Helen and the swan cannot have occurred in this way in the Cypria (whose version of Helen’s birth Apollodorus instantly proceeds to give prefaced by λέγουσι δὲ ἔνιοι: see page 77 above), the other details may derive from our poem, whose present fragment clearly presupposes some such explanation of the twins’ birth.
The mortal is regularly the younger of the twins: Castor (cf. Pindar Nemean X 80–81; Epicharmus fr. 6 KΑ; Theocritus Idyll XXII 176), Iphicles (Pherecydes as cited), Theocritus Idyll XXII 2 (νυκτὶ νεώτερος). It would be rash (with Schneidewin, “Zu den Bruchstücken der Homerischen Dichters,” Philologus 4 [1849]: 745) to infer from Proclus’ phrasing that the Cypria called Castor and Polydeuces Τυνδαρίδαι.
F7 Athenaeus
Athen. VIII 334B–D (2.235 Kaibel)
οὐ λανθάνει δέ με καὶ ὅτι κοινῶς πάντες οἱ ἰχθύες καμασῆνες ὑπὸ Ἐμπεδοκλέους [31 B 72 et 74 DK] ἐλέχθησαν τοῦ φυσικοῦ οὕτως καὶ ὅτι ὁ τὰ Κύπρια ποιήσας ἔπη, εἴτε Κύπριός τις ἐστιν ἢ Στασῖνος ἢ ὅστις δή ποτε χαίρει ὀνομαζόμενος, τὴν Νέμεσιν ποιεῖ διωκομένην ὑπὸ Διὸς καὶ εἰς ἰχθὺν μεταμορφουμένην διὰ τούτων·
τοὺς δὲ μέτα τριτάτην Ἑλένην τέκε, θαῦμα βροτοῖσι
〈 〉
τήν ποτε καλλίκομος Νέμεσις φιλότητι μιγεῖσα
Ζηνὶ θεῶν βασιλῆι τέκεν κρατερῆς ὑπ᾽ ἀνάγκης.
φεῦγε γὰρ οὐδ’ ἔθελεν μιχθήμεναι ἐν φιλότητι
5πατρὶ Διὶ Κρονίωνι· ἐτείρετο γὰρ φρένας αἰδοῖ
καὶ νεμέσει· κατὰ γῆν δὲ καὶ ἀτρύγετον μέλαν ὕδωρ
φεῦγεν, Ζεὺς δ’ ἐδίωκε· λαβεῖν δ’ ἐλιλαίετο θυμῶι.
ἄλλοτε μὲν κατὰ κῦμα πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης
ἰχθύι εἰδομένην, πόντον πολὺν ἐξορόθυνεν,
10ἄλλοτ’ ἀν’ Ὠκεανὸν ποταμὸν καὶ πείρατα γαίης,
ἄλλοτ’ ἀν’ ἤπειρον πολυβώλακα. γίγνετο δ’ αἰεὶ
θηρί᾽ ὅσ’ ἤπειρος αἰνὰ τρέφει, ὄφρα φύγοι νιν.
〈 〉
τήν ποτε καλλίκομος Νέμεσις φιλότητι μιγεῖσα
Ζηνὶ θεῶν βασιλῆι τέκεν κρατερῆς ὑπ᾽ ἀνάγκης.
φεῦγε γὰρ οὐδ’ ἔθελεν μιχθήμεναι ἐν φιλότητι
5πατρὶ Διὶ Κρονίωνι· ἐτείρετο γὰρ φρένας αἰδοῖ
καὶ νεμέσει· κατὰ γῆν δὲ καὶ ἀτρύγετον μέλαν ὕδωρ
φεῦγεν, Ζεὺς δ’ ἐδίωκε· λαβεῖν δ’ ἐλιλαίετο θυμῶι.
ἄλλοτε μὲν κατὰ κῦμα πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης
ἰχθύι εἰδομένην, πόντον πολὺν ἐξορόθυνεν,
10ἄλλοτ’ ἀν’ Ὠκεανὸν ποταμὸν καὶ πείρατα γαίης,
ἄλλοτ’ ἀν’ ἤπειρον πολυβώλακα. γίγνετο δ’ αἰεὶ
θηρί᾽ ὅσ’ ἤπειρος αἰνὰ τρέφει, ὄφρα φύγοι νιν.
The author of the Cypria, whether he be Cyprius or Stasinus, in whatsoever name he takes delight, represents Nemesis as pursued by Zeus and changing herself into a fish in the following lines:
And after these two sons he begot as third offspring a girl, Helen, a wonder to mortals <…>. Her once in the past fair-tressed Nemesis, after mingling in love, bore to Zeus, king of the gods, by the dictates of a harsh destiny. For at first Nemesis tried to escape and was unwilling to mingle with him in a loving embrace, with him, Zeus the father, son of Cronus, because her mind was oppressed with the feeling of shame and indignation. Therefore by land and by the limitless dark water of the sea she tried to escape, but Zeus pursued her, and was eager in his heart to get hold of her, as now she fled through the wave of the loud-roaring sea, transformed into the shape of a fish and set in tumult the vast waters, and now she fled across the Ocean river and the limits of the earth, and now again over the dry land with its fruitful clods. And all this time she kept changing into the various wild animals that the land nurtures in order to be finally quit of him.
hinc pendet Eust. Iliad XXI 638 sqq. (4.804 Van der Valk): τὸ δὲ ζητεῖν ἐξ ὁποίου ὠιοῦ οἱ Διόσκουροι … μῦθος ἂν φιλοίη, ὃς οὐδὲ τὴν Λήδαν ἀφίησιν εἶναι αὐτοῖς μητέρα λέγων διὰ τοῦ ποιήσαντος τὰ Κύπρια, ὅτι Διοσκούρους καὶ Ἑλένην ἡ Νέμεσις ἔτεκεν, ἡ διωκομένη, φησίν, ὑπὸ τοῦ Διὸς μετεμορφοῦτο.
ὁ τὰ Κύπρια ποιήσας ἔπη, εἴτε Κύπριός τις ἐστιν ἢ Στασῖνος: ὁ τὰ Κύπρια πoιήσας Κύπριος vel sim. [cf. F15] fort. voluit Athen.; aliter iudicat West, qui aut Κυπρίας pro Κύπριος scribendum (cf. F4) aut ἢ ante Στασῖνος delendum censet.
1 τοὺς δὲ Meineke: τοὺς δὲ A post h. versum lacunam statuit Welcker, recte nisi τέκε corruptum (ἔχε Hecker, τρέφε Ahrens, Schneidewin) 6 κατὰ γῆν Iunius: καταπην A 9 ἐξοροθύνων tempt. Kaibel 12 θηρί ’ ὅσσ᾽ A αἰνὰ: γ᾽ αἰνὰ Düntzer, δεινὰ Welcker; ἀδινὰ tempt. Kaibel, θηρίον ὅσσ᾽ ἤπειρος ἀνατρέφει Schneidewin μιν : νιν A.
1 : When we are told that in addition to two unspecified males someone bore or begot Helen as a third child, it is hard to avoid identifying the first two males with the Dioscuri. But when we try to analyse the line word by word, difficulties appear. Suppose that the subject of τέκε is feminine: Leda can hardly be the right candidate, for, as we have seen, it is Nemesis who bears Helen in this poem. But then neither can Nemesis be the subject of the verb, because there is no reason (pace Welcker 2.133 and Parlato, “Note di lettura ai ‘Cypria,’ ” Lexis 28 [2010]: 292–295) to suppose the Cypria portrayed her as mother of the Dioscuri (see page 81 above). Let Zeus, then, be the subject and let the verb mean “begot.” Zeus certainly begot Helen, but the idea that he fathered both Castor and Polydeuces seems at odds not only with F6 specifically (where it is implied, as Schneidewin, “Zu den Bruchstücken der Homerischen Dichter,” Philologus 4 [1849]: 744 appreciated, that by virtue of his mortality Castor is the son of Tyndareus) but with the whole tenor of the story. If one assumes a loose reference on the poet’s part, one will also have to charge him with a clumsy use of the same verb twice at very close quarters (lines 1 and 3) with a totally different meaning in each case and the sort of reference to Zeus by name at the start of line 3 which implies that he is not the subject of the main sentence. These are ugly accusations. One must either, then, acquiesce in Welcker’s expedient (2.514) of a lacuna following line 1; or suppose that line 1’s τέκε is corrupt, probably under the influence of line 3’s verb. In this case ἔχε (suggested by A. Hecker, “Epistolae Criticae ad F. G. Schneidewin V,” Philologus 5 [1850]: 437) with Tyndareus or Leda as the subject is a possibility, while Ahrens’ τρέφε (Jahrbüche für Philologie und Pädagogik 13 [1830]: 196, approved by Schneidewin, “Zu den Bruchstücken der homerischen Dichter,” Philologus 4 [1849]: 745n2) will make Leda Helen’s stepmother. But the passages cited below as parallels for | τοὺς δὲ μετά and θαῦμα βροτοῖσι | strongly suggest that τέκε is the right verb to bind the two phrases together here, and Welcker’s lacuna seems the likeliest solution. τοὺς δὲ μετά: cf. Hesiod Theogony 137 | τοὺς δὲ μεθ᾽ ὁπλοτάτην γένετο Κρόνος ἀγκυλομήτης, 381 | τοὺς δὲ μετ᾽ ἀστέρα τίκτεν ‘Εωσφόρον ‘Ηριγένεια, fr. 26.31 MW| τοὺς δὲ μεθ’ ὁπλοτάτην τέκετο Ξανθὴν Ἰόλειαν, Naupact. fr. 1.1 τὴν δὲ μεθ’ ὁπλοτάτην ‘Εριώπην ἐξονόμαζεν. Hesiod fr. 35.13 MW is supplemented τοὺς δὲ μεθ’ ὁπλοτάτην τέκετο Ξανθὴν] Πολυκάσ[την by West. The simple correction of the paradosis τοῖς to τοὺς was made by Meineke, Analecta p. 148. (τοὺς δὲ μετὰ τριτάτην ‘Ελένην) τέκε θαῦμα βροτοῖσι: cf. Odyssey xi 287 τοῖσι δ’ ἐπ’ ἰφθίμην Πηρὼ τέκε θαῦμα βροτοῖσι (compare θαῦμα ἰδέσθαι | at Iliad V 725, Ηomeric Ηymn to Demeter 427, etc.). Odyssey xii 125 μητέρα τῆς Σκύλλης, ἣ μιν τέκε πῆμα βροτοῖσιν; Iliad XIV 325 ἡ δὲ Διώνυσον Σεμέλη τέκε χάρμα βροτοῖσι; Ηomeric Ηymn to Αρollo 25 ἦ ὥς σε πρῶτον Λητὼ τέκε χάρμα βροτοῖσι, etc. The phrase θαῦμα βροτοῖσιν was taken over by Euripides Iphigenia in Aulis 202 (of Helen). Other passages where θαῦμα is used of persons are collected by Diggle, Studies in the Text of Euripides (Oxford 1981) 90; cf. my commentary on Sophocles Trachiniae 961. For the more general principle of “the use of abstract nouns in apposition to a birth” see Hesiod Theogony 55 and West ad loc.
2 . καλλίκομος Νέμεσις : for other recipients of this epithet see Davies and Finglass on Stesichorus fr. 173.1. φιλότητι μιγεῖσα : cf. (in the same metrical position) Odyssey xix 266, Hesiod Theogony 335, and (in the same metrical position, preceded by ἐv) Hesiod Theogony 375, Homeric Hymn to Demeter 57, Homeric Hymn to Hermes IV 2–3 Νέμεσις φιλότητι μιγεῖσα | Ζηνὶ θεῶν βασιλῆι. Cf. Hesiod Theogony 923 μιχθεῖσ’ ἐν φιλότητι θεῶν βασιλῇι καὶ ἀνδρῶν, Ηomeric Ηymn XXXIII 3 μιχθεῖσ’ ἐν φιλότητι κελαινεφέϊ Κρονίωνι. The phrase “often connotes extra-marital sex” (Vergados on the Hymn to Hermes passage).
3 . Ζηνὶ : at the start of an hexameter in Iliad XXII 302, Odyssey ix 552. Ζηνὶ θεῶν βασιλῇι : for the application of the term βασιλεύς to this (or any) god as unHomeric and a sign of lateness see my note on Thebais fr. 3.3 (TE, p. 59). Kullmann’s protestations (1960:49–50) against the obvious deductions to be drawn from this phrase as to the Cypria’s date (cf. page 7 above) are remarkably perverse: Zeus’ kingship over the gods, he objects, is clearly presented in the Iliad, and its preliminary power-struggle as clearly presupposed. So much so, indeed, that the word βασιλεύς need not be applied to him! But the same might be alleged of the Theogony, and for the Iliad the existence of the concept without the corresponding phrase seems distinctly suggestive, especially when Homer knows the word βασιλεύς. Nor do I find Parlato’s counterarguments (2007a:13–14) persuasive. Ζηνὶ θεῶν βασιλῇι τεκεν ᴗ ᴗ – ᴗ ᴗ – –|: cf. Odyssey xi 258 τοὺς δ’ ἑτέρους Κρηθηῒ τέκεν βασίλεια γυναικῶν; Hesiod Theogony 956 Ἡελιῶι δ’ ἀκάμαντι τέκε κλυτὸς Ὠκεανίνη; fr. 25.14 MW Οἰνῆϊ [τέκ’] Ἀλθαίη κυα[ν]ῶ̣[π]ις. κρατερῆς ὑπ ’ ἀναγκῆς : for other examples of the phrase see Hesiod Theogony 517 and West ad loc. For other passages that employ the words κρατερὴ ἀνάγκη see M. S. Silk, Interaction in Poetic Imagery (Cambridge 1974) 120n9; also Friis Johansen and Whittle on Aeschylus Supplices 1031, discussing ὑπ’ ἀναγκῆς. “ἀνάγκη is applicable to any physical, legal or moral force to which resistance is shameful, painful, perilous or for any other reason difficult” (K. J. Dover, “Some Neglected Aspects of Agamemnon’s Dilemma,” Journal of Hellenic Studies 93 [1973]: 64 = Greek and the Greeks 145). In the present case the reference is to forced sexual union as at Bacchylides XIV 96, Pindar Pythian XII 15, Aristotle Historia animalium 576B21. Cf. A. Giacomelli, “The Justice of Aphrodite,” Transactions of the American Philogical Association 110 (1980): 138; H. Schreckenberg, Ananke: Untersuchungen zur Geschichte des Wortgebrauchs (Zetemata 36 [1964]) 5–6.
4 . μιχθήμεναι ἐν φιλότητι : cf. Hesiod Theogony 306 μιγήμεναι ἐν φιλότητι |, 923 μιχθεῖσ’ ἐν φιλότητι; Iliad II 232 μίσγεαι ἐν φιλότητι πατρὶ Διὶ Κρονίωνι; Ηomeric Ηymn 33.5 ἐν φιλότητι κελαινεφέϊ Κρονίωνι. ἐτείρετο γὰρ φρένας αἰδοῖ; cf. Odyssey ix 454 δαμασσάμενος φρένας οἴνωι |, xix 122 βεβαρηότα με φρένας οἴνωι|; Iliad XXII 242 ἀλλ’ ἐμὸς ἔνδοθι θυμὸς ἐτείρετο πένθεϊ λυγρῶι.
5 . πατρὶ Διὶ Κρονίωνι : cf. Hesiod Works and Days 259 Διὶ πατρὶ … Κρονίωνι.
5 – 6 . αἰδοῖ : identified without argument by Wilamowitz (Homerische Untersuchungen 366n45) as a sign of the poem’s late date. It is indeed true that our manuscripts of Homer purport to present us with various cases of this word in contracted form: but the only Homeric passage where such a contraction is metrically guaranteed, and αἰδῶ, say, or αἰδοῦς cannot represent αἰδόα or αἰδόος, is Odyssey xx 171 (αἰδοῦς μοῖραν). The other examples in early Greek epic where a contracted form of αἰδώς is metrically guaranteed (by virtue, in each case, of its occurrence at the end of a line as here) are Hesiod Works and Days 324 (αἰδῶ) and [Hesiod] Scutum 354 and fr. 204.82 MW (αἰδοῖ): cf. Lexikon des frühgriechische Epos 1 s.v. 279. III 57–59. Dihle is right, then (Homer–Probleme 148), to label αἰδοῖ here “mit metrisch fixierter, also unanfhebbarer Kontraktion” as un-Homeric and late.
5 – 6. αἰδοῖ | καὶ νεμέσει : the two concepts are often coupled together (see West on Hesiod Works and Days 200, to whose examples add this; cf. M. Scott, “Aidos and Nemesis in the Works of Homer,” Acta Classica 23 [1980]: 13–36; J. C. Turpin, “L’Expression ΑΙΔΩΣ ΚΑΙ ΝΕΜΕΣΙΣ et les ‘Actes’ de langage,” Révue des Études Grecques 93 [1980]: 352–367; D. L. Cairns, Aidos [Oxford 1993] 51–54, 84–86). Their use to describe the emotions of Nemesis herself produces a bizarre pun not alien to this poem (cf. page 67 above) but much less like Homer (see Griffin 1977:50 and n60, where passages in Eustathius’ commentary drawing attention to Homeric avoidance of such word-jingles are collected). Note however the instances of Homeric word-play assembled and discussed by L. P. Rank, Etymologiseering en verwandte verschijnselen bij Homerus (Assen 1951). That of the twenty-four Iliadic instances of αἰδώς all but one occur in speeches (see Griffin, “Homeric Words and Speeches,” Journal of Hellenic Studies 106 [1986]: 43) possibly strengthens the case (above page 77) for regarding our fragment as likewise from a speech.
6 : ἀτρύγετον μέλαν ὕδωρ : Wilamowitz (Homerische Untersuchungen 366–367n45) listed this (or at least ἀτρύγετον ὕδωρ) among his “late” features. The phrase is unusual in two respects: (i) its extension of the use of ἀτρ- from πόντος, πέλαγος or ἅλς to ὕδωρ (cf. Hesiod Theogony 413 γαίης τε καὶ ἀτρυγέτοιο θαλάσσης: the last two words end a verse again in Iliad XIV 728 and Theogony 728); (ii) its association with the additional adjective μέλαν. As Dihle says (Homer-Probleme 148–149), the “Epitheta-Häufung einen späten Eindruck macht.” μέλαν ὕδωρ : the same two words end a line at Iliad XVI 161, XXI 202 but they are not there used, as here, of the totality of the sea (cf. Parlato 2007a:15).
7 . (φεῦγε γάρ) … | φεῦγε : for this type of repetition cf. Odyssey iii 166–167 φεῦγον … | φεῦγε δὲ Τυδέος υἱός. The conjecture λαβεῖν δ᾽ ἐλιλαίετο θυμός is not, pace Köchly, Coniectaneorum Epicorum Fasculus 1, 9 = Opuscula Philologica 1.228–229, a necessary change.
8 – 10 : for the repetition of ἄλλοτε to convey the process of metamorphosis cf. Hesiod fr. 33A.14–17 MW (four times, of Periclymenus) and Sophocles Trachiniae 11–13 (twice, of Achelous).
8 . κατὰ κῦμα πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης : the same phrase at line-end in Homeric Hymn VI 4. Cf. Iliad II 209 ὣς ὅτε κῦμα π. θ.|; Odyssey xiii 84–85 κῦμα δ’ ὅπισθεν | πορφύρεον μέγα θῦε π. θ., ib. 220 ἑρπύζων παρὰ θῖνα π. θ.; Homeric Ηymn to Hermes 341 ἑσπέριος παρὰ θῖνα π. θ.
9 | ἰχθύϊ εἰδομένη : cf. Odyssey ii 268 | Μέντορι εἰδομένη, iii 372 | φήνηι εἰδομένη, Bühler on Moschus Europa 158. On fish metamorphosis see page 81 above. ἰχθύι : the regular Homeric form of the noun in dative singular is the contracted ἰχθῦι (Schmitt 1990:20), but the form here printed may represent another of the poem’s unHomeric features (see page 7 above). ἐξορόθυνεv : “excite greatly” is how LSJ s.v. renders this verb and its prefix, exemplifying it by the present passage and Quintus of Smyrna II 31. Other instances of the latter poet’s use of the verb may be found in F. Vian’s Recherches sur les Posthomerica de Quintus de Smyrne (Paris 1959) 91, who observes that his author, unlike ours, employs the word “toujours au figuré.” The simplex form of the verb is found in Homer, but in dealing with that one needs to distinguish (as Parlato 2007a:14, citing Iliad XV 595, where it is used of Zeus “rousing” warriors in battle, does not) its application to divine interventions in nature (Lexicon des frühgriechische Epos Epos s.v. ὀρθύνω B2), as at Odyssey v 292, of Poseidon rousing the winds, and Iliad XXI 312, of Scamander encouraging Simois to stir up torrents. These usages are close to the present passage, though here the stirring up of the waters is incidental, not deliberate. Gilbert Wakefield conjectured -θυνων in his Sylvae Criticae (1785–1795), an example of that work’s “tampering with the texts of the classics” (Sandys, A History of Classsical Scholarship 2.430), though Kaibel made the same suggestion independently, it would seem.
10 . ἄλλοτ ’ ἀν ’ ὠκεανὸν ποταμὸν καὶ πείρατα γαίης : as Griffin observes (p. 50), this line interrupts the sequence established in lines 8–11: “how are we to picture [Nemesis’] flight ‘in Ocean River and the ends of the earth’? Presumably in Ocean she was a fish, at the ends of the earth an animal, and the intrusion disrupts the context in order to get in the distinct idea that she fled not only in both elements, but to the furthest recesses of them both. The total effect is incoherent.” On the omission of the expected δέ after 8’s μέν see Denniston, GP 2 377 for the “few passages” where ἄλλοτε (or a very few other words) “atone[s] for the absence of an answering particle.” He exemplifies with Theognis 158 and Sophocles Antigone 367. ἀν ’ ὠκεανὸν ποταμόν : cf. Odyssey xi 63–64 – ˘ κατ’ ὠκεανὸν ποταμόν. ὠκεανὸν ποταμόν : cf. Hesiod Theogony 242 = 959 ὠκεανοῖο τελήεντος ποταμοῖο. καὶ πείρατα γαίης : cf. (same sedes) Odyssey iv 563 and Iliad XIV 200 = 301 πολυφόρβου πείρατα γαίης | ὠκεανον τε. For other instances of the phrase, its terms of reference, and its frequent association (as here) with Oceanus, see West on Hesiod Theogony 335 and 622.
11 . ἤπειρον πολυβώλακα : for the noun cf. Odyssey xiii 235 ἐριβώλακος ᾐπείροιο. It “most commonly … in archaic epic … simply signifies ‘land’ in contrast,” as here, “to the sea”: Faulkner on Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 5. πολυ-βώλαξ is a hapax legomenon. Compare (in the same sedes) Iliad II 841 Λάρισαν ἐριβώλακα, III 14 Τροίην ἐριβώλακα. Compare the epithet πολύβωλος (Euripides fr. 3.2 Kannicht: cf. Harder ad loc. (Euripides’ Kresphontes and Archelaos (Mnemosyne Suppl. 87 [1985]) 208). γίγνετο δ ’ αἰεί : add this example of γίγνεσθαι in poetry meaning “change shape” to those collected by Bühler on Moschus Europa 79. For αἰεί see below on αἰνά in line 12.
12 . θηρί ’ ὃσ ’ ἤπειρος αἰνὰ τρέφει : for content and word-order cf. Hesiod Theogony 582 | κνώδαλ’ ὃσ’ ἤπειρος πολλὰ τρέφει; Ηomeric Hymn to Aphrodite 4–5 θηρία πάντα,| ἠμὲν ὃσ’ ἤπειρος πολλά τρέφει. We know too much these days about this type of formulaic repetition and variation to be very worried about questions of priority between the three passages (as are Kullmann 1960:254n1; Jouan 1966:147n4; O. Lendle, Die “Pandorasage” bei Hesiod [Würzburg 1957] 58–59). Nor is there anything to be alarmed at in the Cypria’s lack of a phrase corresponding to ἠδ’ ὅσα πόντος or ἠδὲ θάλασσα, words which follow on to complete the line after τρέφει in Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite and Theogony respectively. Line 9 has already told us about Nemesis and the fish of the sea, and we do not know how the poem continued after line 12. See also Hymn Orph. 58.5–7 Quandt ἠδ’ ὅσα θνητοῖς | πνεύματα παντογένεθλα τε βόσκει χλοόκαρπος, | ἠδ’ ὅσα Τάρταρος εὐρὺς ἔχει πόντος θ’ ἁλίδουπος; Ηymn Orph. 85.2 καὶ πάντων ζώιων, ὁπόσα τρέφει εὐρεῖα χθών. For other specimens of similar idioms (“all animals reared by the earth and sea” or “all animals that breath and move,” etc.) see Schulze, Quaestiones Epicae 237n1; Barrett on Euripides Hippolytus 1274–1276; Aeschylus Choephori 585–586 πολλὰ μὲν γᾶ τρέφει | δεινὰ δειμάτων ἄχη (followed by a reference to what the sea breeds); Iliad XI 741 ὅσα τρέφει εὐρεῖα χθών; Alcman 89.3 PMGF ὅσα τρέφει μέλαινα γαῖα. See further Faulkner on Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 5. “The limitation to land creatures is somewhat inept” (West 2013:82). θηρί ’: the word occurs in Homer only at Odyssey x 171 (= 180). “In comparison with its masculine equivalent θήρ, the neuter θηρίον is rare in early Greek poetry. Any diminutive sense was lost at an early stage”: Faulkner on Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 4, with references. ἤπειρος αἰνά : the lengthening is perfectly proper (see, for instance, Maas, Greek Metre §128) and for the sense cf. δείνα πέλωρα Iliad II 321, αἰνὰ πέλωρα Odyssey x 219. O. Peppmüller (“Zu den Fragmenten der griechischen Epiker,” Neue Jahrbücher für Philologie und Pädagogik 133 [1885]: 833–834) fully appreciated this, but because he found line 11’s αἰεί “ganz nichtssagend,” conjectured for the last two lines γίγνετο δ’ αἰνὰ | θηρί᾽ ὃσ’ ἤπειρος πολλὰ τρέφει, which makes the relevant portion of the line exactly parallel to Hesiod Theogony 582 (codd.) and Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 4–5 cited above. In the former, however, δεινά is a papyrus’ v.l. preferred by West ad loc., and, after ἄλλοτε μεν … ἄλλοτ᾽ ἂν … ἄλλοτ᾽ ἄν, the word αἰεί is anything but “nichtssagend.” Besides, in the context of a goddess’ attempts to thwart an amorous Zeus, αἰνά has a point which πολλά totally lacks. The same criticism may be leveled against Schneidewin’s ἀνατρέφει (“Zu den Bruchstücke der Homerischen Dichters,” Philologus 4 [1849]: 745). ὄφρα φύγοι μιν |: for ὄφρα ˘ – – | cf. Iliad I 524, VI 195, XXIV 350. “The transmitted νιν can be defended by citing,” with e.g. Parlato (2007a:34–35), “Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 280 codd. and CEG (Amorgos 550–500?) but the usual epic form μιν is an easy correction”: West 2013:82. Similarly Faulkner on the Homeric Hymn.
Cf. Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 10.7 τὴν δὲ [scil. Νέμεσιv] ὠιὸν ἐκ τῆς συνουσίας ἀποτεκεῖν, τοῦτο δὲ ἐν τοῖς ἄλσεσιν εὐρόντα τινὰ ποιμένα Λήδαι κομίσαντα δοῦναι, τὴν δὲ καταθεμένην εἰς λάρνακα φυλάσσειν, καὶ χρόνωι καθήκοντι γεννηθεῖσαν ‘Ελένην ὡς ἐξ αὑτῆς θυγατέρα τρέφειν. The immediately preceding section of Apollodorus’ narrative, with the exception of an intrusive reference to the swan characteristic of the tradition involving Leda, seems identical to the version employed by the Cypria (see page 77 above). One might, then, follow Wagner (1892:170) and Rossbach (in Roscher s.v. “Nemesis” 3.119.14–17) in expecting its sequel to be also derived from this epic; and, indeed, the contents here are precisely what is required to reconcile the idea that Nemesis was Helen’s mother with the tradition of Leda as one of her parents.
There are various accounts of how Leda came to receive the egg (cf. Herter, RE 16, 2343.61–68). It has already been explained how we know that in the immediate sequel to the last line of the fragment, Nemesis transformed herself into a goose, Zeus followed suit, and they mated (see page 78 above). It is often assumed that this union occurred in Rhamnus, [119] but evidence for this there is none. That Nemesis was worshiped there (see page 81 above) or that Cratinus’ Nemesis seems to have located the coupling there (see page 81 above) are inadequate props for any speculation as to our poem.
Proclus Chrestomathia: ἔπειτα δὲ Ἀφροδίτης ὑποθεμένης ναυπηγεῖται.
Then, on Aphrodite’s suggestion, Paris builds a fleet.
Apollodorus Epitome 3.2–3: ὁ δὲ [scil. Ἀλέξανδρος] … πήξαμενου Φερέκλου ναῦς εἰς Σπάρτην ἐκπλέει (Paris, after Phereclus has built a fleet, sails off to Sparta).
Euripides Hecuba 631–634 refers to the time Ἰδαῖαν ὅτε πρῶτον ὕλαν |’Αλέξαν-δρος εἰλατίναν | ἔταμεθ’ ἄλιου ἐπ’ οἶδμα ναυστολήσων | ‘Ελένας ἐπὶ λέκτρα, κτλ. Wentzel (1890:xii and xvi) derived this location of the tree-felling on Mount Ida, together with the even greater specification of the particular peak as Gargora in Ovid Heroides XVI 109, from the Cypria (Homer says nothing of the locale). He derived the Heroides’ mention of Phereclus from the same source. Euripides Helen 229–231 ponders the question “who actually felled the trees?”
The statement that Paris himself hewed wood in Proclus and Euripides Hecuba as cited is presumably short-hand for ‘‘Paris ordered others” to do this (though on the economic absence of subsidiary characters such as servants from Homeric epic see my article “Epeius in the Kitchen; or, Ancient Greek Folktales Vindicated,” Greece and Rome 61 [2014]: 93–98). West (2013:84) well questions the need for a new fleet (unless Paris had not yet been recognized and acknowledged, as Priam’s exposed son? See pages 74–75 above). If, as he suggests, the Trojans may hitherto have been unacquainted with the use of ships, this might add a further level of iniquity to Paris’ actions: see Nisbet and Hubbard’s commentary on Horace Odes 1, pp. 43–44 for antiquity’s views on the wicked folly of sailing and the same scholars on Odes 2.13.2 (felling of trees the start of evil). See page 21.
Iliad V 59–64:
Μηριόνης δὲ Φέρεκλον ἐνήρατο, τέκτονος υἱόν
‘Αρμονίδεω, ὃς χερσὶν ἐπίστατο δαίδαλα πάντα
τεύχειν· ἔξοχα γάρ μιν ἐφίλατο Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη·
ὃς καὶ Ἀλεξάνδρωι τεκτήνατο νῆας ἐΐσας
ἀρχεκάκους, αἳ πᾶσι κακὸν Τρώεσσι γένοντο
οἷ τ’ αὐτῶι, ἐπεὶ οὔ τι θεῶν ἐκ θέσφατα ἤιδη.
‘Αρμονίδεω, ὃς χερσὶν ἐπίστατο δαίδαλα πάντα
τεύχειν· ἔξοχα γάρ μιν ἐφίλατο Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη·
ὃς καὶ Ἀλεξάνδρωι τεκτήνατο νῆας ἐΐσας
ἀρχεκάκους, αἳ πᾶσι κακὸν Τρώεσσι γένοντο
οἷ τ’ αὐτῶι, ἐπεὶ οὔ τι θεῶν ἐκ θέσφατα ἤιδη.
It does not require much foresight to see that the ambiguity of the penultimate word in line 59 (Τέκτονος or τέκτονος) will have repercussions for the exact identity and genealogy of the individual who built Paris’ ships. The scholia and Eustathius ad loc. (the remarks of each may be most conveniently compared as they are set out in Erbse’s edition of the former [2.11]) contain traces of either interpretation. The family tree Φέρεκλος Τέκτονος υἱός, Τέκτων υἱὸς τοῦ Ἅρμονος seems also to be implied by Apollodorus as cited, and Severyns (1928:265–267) ingeniously suggests that this represents the Cypria’s version (further etymologically significant names? see page 82 above), and that the alternative approach preserved in our ancient commentators (with τέκτων a proper noun) stems ultimately from an Aristarchean note warning against any explanation of the Homeric lines in the light of οἱ νεώτεροι. Aristarchus will then have connected line 60’s relative with the patronymic Ἁρμονίδεω in the preceding line (cf. Kullmann 1960:245n1).
Proclus Chrestomathia: καὶ Ἕλενος περί τῶν μελλόντων [scil. Ἀλεξάνδρωι] προθεσπίζει … καὶ Κασσάνδρα περὶ τῶν μελλόντων προδηλοῖ.
Helenus delivers a prophecy concerning the future … and Cassandra reveals the truth concerning the future.
This duplication of prophetic roles has seemed offensive to several scholars. Bethe in particular (1929:231–232 and RE s.v. “Kassandra” [10 (1919): 2291.11–18]) thought that one must be an interpolation and decided on the sister as the foreign body. Helenus’ position, he supposed, could be justified by the role he occupies in the Iliad and the Ilias Parva (see my forthcoming commentary on the latter). Cassandra had been intruded from Euripides’ Alexandros (see page 95 below) because the mythological handbook that he presumed to be Proclus’ source mentioned her as a variant.
The doublet is not, however, as eccentric as this approach implies. J. Geffcken (“Ein Prinzip antiker Erzählung und Darstellungskunst,” Hermes 62 [1927]: 5) draws attention to a particularly close parallel from the Odyssey, where two prophetic speeches on Odysseus’ destined wanderings are delivered at fairly close quarters by Teiresias (xi 100–137) and Circe (xii 37–110) respectively, with very little actual repetition.
That two separate prophetic warnings were given to Paris in the Cypria may, then, be accepted (cf. Fraenkel, Aeschylus Agamemnon 3.554). A contrast with the Iliad’s general avoidance of prophetic figures may be drawn (see page 95 below on Cassandra). Kullmann (1960:246) perceptively remarks of Helenus’ speech at Iliad VI 77–101: “typisch homerisch ist, dass er nicht προθεσπίζει, sondern praktische Ratschlage gibt” (cf. his 246n4).
Proclus Chrestomathia: καὶ ἡ Ἀφροδίτη Αἰνείαν συμπλεῖν αὐτῶι κελεύει.
And Aphrodite commands Aeneas to sail with him.
This episode’s placement between the two prophecies is suggestive. No such role is implied for Aeneas in the corresponding section of Apollodorus’ resumé. Preller-Robert (1.364) connect it and the preceding instructions regarding the building of a boat with Aphrodite’s status as a marine deity (on which see Nisbet and Hubbard on Horace Odes I 5.16). Aeneas is represented as accompanying Paris in Sparta on a number of vases and other artifacts: see LIMC s.v. “Aeneas,” pp. 382–383; West 2013:84n25. For the folktale role of Aeneas’ mother as “helper figure” to the hero see my article “The Folk-Tale Origins of the Iliad and Odyssey,” Wiener Studien 115 (2002): 7.
Proclus Chrestomathia: καὶ Κασσάνδρα περὶ τῶν μελλόντων προδηλοῖ.
Homer has remarkably little to tell us of Cassandra (cf. Iliad XIII 366, XXIV 699) and nothing at all to say of her prophetic powers. [120] It need not therefore follow that the myth was “unknown to the Iliad,” as is stated by Latte, “The Coming of the Pythia,” Harvard Theological Review 33 (1940): 15. Deliberate avoidance of this strange female’s story is suggested by, for instance, Murray, Rise of the Greek Epic4 (Oxford 1934) 135; cf. Forsdyke, Greece before Homer: Ancient Chronology and Mythology (London 1956) 130, Kullmann 1960:247. Latte himself argues that not only the prophecy indicated in the present summary but also the relationship between Cassandra and Apollo which made possible the former’s prophetic powers were invented by the Cypria. The tale of Apollo’s frustrated love for Priam’s daughter is first attested in Pindar Pythian XI 49 and Aeschylus Agamemnon 1202–1213, but it seems to presuppose an Anatolian ritual in which Apollo’s πρόμαντις was regarded as his παλλακή, and this ritual may have been known to a poet of nearby Cyprus. See further Latte as cited and Fraenkel, Aeschylus Agamemnon 3.554. [121] It is possible that the Cypria’s detail of a Cassandra supplying to her brother’s departure for Greece a background of sinister foreboding finds an echo in later treatments. Look at part of Pindar’s Eighth Paean (fr. 52 iA 10–20 Sn.): [122] after references to ταχυ[ς and πνευς[ in the two preceding lines we read as follows: σπεύδοντ᾽ ἔκλαγξέ[ν] θ᾽ ἱερ[ᾶς κόρας suppl. Robert] | δαιμόνιον κέαρ ὀλοαῖ|σι στοναχαῖς ἄφαρ, | καὶ τοιαῖδε κορυφᾶι. σά|μανειν λόγων. There follows a doom-laden prophecy which makes mention of the vision experienced by Hecuba while she was carrying Paris in her womb. Grenfell and Hunt in their editio princeps of the poem (Oxyrhyncus Papyrus 5 [1908]: 105) refer σπευδόντ᾽ to Paris, “hastening to set out for Sparta.” The identification is not totally secure: Stinton, for instance, suggests a connection with Paris’ return to Troy and recognition by his family immediately after the Judgment (1965:53 = 58), and we now know that Euripides’ Alexandros placed Cassandra’s prophecies as to Paris’ future in a similar position: cf. Wentzel 1890:xxxvii and the commentary on Euripides’ play by I. Karamanov (Berlin 2017) 25–31. See too Bacchylides fr. 8 Sn. = Dithyramb 20 = Porphyrius on Horace Odes 1.15: hac ode Bacchylidem imitatur; nam ut ille Cassandram facit vaticinari futura belli Troiani, etc. On this and other prophecies which ancient literature represents as uttered to Paris by various people and at various times and places see T. Sinko, “De Horatii carmine I 15 eiusque exemplari graeco,” Eos 29 (1926): 135–155. [123] The summary of Cassandra’s mantic ravings at Ovid Heroides XVI 121–122 may deserve our particular attention (see pages 8–10 above). It refers to incendia and flamma.
F8 Philodemus
Philodemus fr. incerti loci (P. Herc. sine numero in apographis Oxoniensibus asservata [Photographs of the Oxford Facsimiles of Herculanean Papyri (London 1890)vol. VI 1573): edidit W. Crönert, Archiv für Papyrusforschung 1 (1901): 109n1, iterum A. Henrichs, “Iuppiter mulierum amator in papyro Herculanens,” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 15 (1974): 302–304 et W. Luppe, “Zeus und Nemesis in den Kyprien: Die Verwandlungssage nach Pseudo-Apollodor und Philodem,” Philologus 118 (1974): 193–202 (cf. “Nochmals zur Nemesis bei Philodem,” 119 [1975] 143–144).
|φη]σίν τ᾽ ὁ τὰ Κύ[πρια | γ]ράψας ὁμοιωθέ[ν|τ]α χηνὶ κ͙α͙ὶ αὐτ[ὸν]||5 δ̣ιώκειν καὶ μιγέ͙ν|- […] ὠιὸν τεκεῖν |[ἐξ] ο̣ὗ γ͙ενέσθαι τὴν |[Ἑλ]ένην ὡς δὲ͙| [Λή]δας ἐ͙ρασθεὶς ||[ἐγ]ένετο κύκνος, |[Εὐ]ρώπης δὲ ταῦ|[ροσ κτλ.
The author of the Cypria says that Zeus transformed himself into the shape of a goose, and pursued and coupled <… > bore an egg, from which was born Helen, and falling in love with Leda became a swan, and with Europa a bull …
hinc oriuntur Lycophr. 88 sqq. et Σ ad loc. (2.50 Scheer), Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 10.7 = Tzetz. ad Lycophr. loc. cit. (2.48 sq. Scheer), [Eratosth.] Catast. 25 (p. 142 Robert = Mythogr. Graec. 3 (1) p. 31 Olivieri), Σ Odyssey xi 28; cf. Hor. AP 47 et Brink ad loc. (Horace on Poetry 2.220).
2 . suppl. Crönert τ᾽ suspectum: del. Crönert, γ᾽coni. Luppe 3 . init. suppl. Crönert 3 – 4 suppl. Luppe, prob. Henrichs (αὐτ[ήν Crönert) 4 . καὶ Luppe: KN 5 . διώκειν leg. Crönert μιγέ͙ν|[τος Henrichs, μιγέ͙ν|[τας Luppe: ΜΙΓΟΝ 7 . suppl. et leg. Crönert ΚΕΝ 8 . init. suppl. Crönert ὡς δὲ͙ Luppe, ὡς δ᾽ ἔ͙ν͙[ιοι]| Henrichs: Θ 9. sqq. suppl. Crönert
On the Philodemus fragment, its transmission, and its possible claim to a position within book I of his De pietate see A. Henrichs, “Iuppiter mulierum amator in papyro Herculanensi,” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 15 (1974): 303–304. For a discission of the one or two small differences as to supplements between Luppe and Heinrichs, see Luppe, “Nochmals zu Nemesis bei Philodem,” Philologus 119 (1975): 143–144.
F8A Anonymous ap. P.Oxy. 5094, fr. 1.4–9
Δη[μήτ]ριος δ’ ὁ Σκ[ήψιος]| κ[αὶ στί]χον φησὶ μ[ετὰ]| |τοῦτ[ο]ν φέρεσθα[ι “ἰφθ]ίμη, μ[ού]νη θυγάτ[ηρ] | κλειτοῖο Δύμαν[τος”] | ὡς δ’ ὁ τὰ Κύπρια, Α[
Demetrius of Scepsis says that there was a line after this, “glorious lady, sole daughter of famous Dymas,” whereas the author of the Cypria …”
in 4–8 de Hecubae genitoribus agi intellexit West quae sequuntur ad Cypria referenda ubi poeta aliter narravisse videtur
The new fragment, discussed by West, “The Daughter of Dymas,” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 183 (2012): 11–13, may belong here if, as he surmises (p. 12), the Cypria is cited for contrasting detail referring to Hecuba’s paternity. He rightly warns (p. 12n2: cf. 2013:86) against supposing that our poem mentioned Hecuba’s dream of giving birth to a firebrand.
Proclus Chrestomathia: ἐπιβὰς δὲ τῆι Λακεδαιμονίαι ξενίζεται παρὰ τοῖς Τυνδαρίδαις καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα ἐν τῆι Σπᾶρτηι παρὰ Μενελάωι.
And arriving at Lacadaemonia (Paris) is entertained by the sons of Tyndareus and afterwards in Sparta by Menelaus.
Apollodorus Epitome 3.3: ὁ δὲ [scil. Ἀλέξανδρος] … εἰς Σπάρτην ἐκπλεέι. ἐφ᾽ ἡμέρας δ᾽ ἐννέα ξενίσθεις παρὰ Μενελάωι … (And [Paris] sails off to Sparta. And after nine days’ entertainment by Menelaus …).
As the Apollodorean epitome proves, the detail of a preliminary stay with the Dioscuri before Paris’ arrival at Menelaus’ palace is quite dispensable. But the Cypria must have had some motive—over and above the desire for a further scene of ceremonious feasting—for introducing the Dioscuri at this early stage. Can we hope to discover what it was? Since we do not possess the original episode our chances would not seem to be high. But Wilamowitz (Textgeschichte der griechische Bukoliker [Berlin 1906] 18–19) was extremely sanguine as to what could be recovered from “mythographical studies” of this part of “the First Book of the Cypria” and has painted a vivid picture of what it must have contained: upon arriving on the Laconian coast, [124] Paris was received by Helen, who invited him to a banquet at which the pomp and splendour of the Asiatic prince were seen to best effect. Helen’s brothers the Dioscuri did the honors, and their cousins the Apharetidae were also present. As the wine flowed more and more freely the latter mocked the former for the unceremonious manner in which they had abducted their brides. The Asiatic or Cyprian poet here exploited (according to Wilamowitz) his knowledge of the striking contrast between Asiatic riches and luxury and Spartan poverty and homeliness. Vexed by their cousins’ insults, the Dioscuri first threatened and then carried out a raid on the cattle of Aphareus himself in order to furnish their brides with adequate gifts. This expedition on the part of the Dioscuri afforded Paris a most timely opportunity to forward his attentions towards Helen during their absence.
What were Wilamowitz’s sources for this fascinating and entertaining series of episodes (which, according to West [2013:94], “goes too far beyond the evidence”)? The most reliable details stem from the painstaking researches of G. Wentzel as set out in De Grammaticis Graecis Quaestiones Selectae I: Ἐπικλήσεις, sive De deorum cognominibus per grammaticorum graecorum scripta dispersis (Göttingen 1890) 5: De scholiis Lycophronis 18–29. Wentzel’s reconstruction centers around a passage from Lycophron (535–566) where the learned Alexandrian surpasses even his own demanding standards for obscurity. However, it really does appear that beneath the thickets we can detect a version in which (as also in the Cypria) Paris is entertained by the Dioscuri in Lacedaemonia (see now Hornblower’s commentary on Lycophron [Oxford 2015] note on 538–539). And at a banquet there, Zeus deliberately engineers a quarrel between the Dioscuri and the sons of Aphareus. After some passage of time (indicated by Lycophron with the words αὖθις δ᾽ at 546) this quarrel converts to bloody violence when the two sets of twins clash by the river Cnacion near Sparta (see Wentzel, De Grammaticis Graecis Quaestiones Selectae, 25–26). The reason Lycophron gives, both for the original argument and for the deadly sequel is (need one say?) obscure. But ἀνεψιαῖς ὄρνισι … γάμους | βιαιοκλῶπας ἁρπαγάς τε συγγόνων at 547–548 must refer to the abduction of the Leucippides and 549’s ἀλφῆς τῆς ἀεδνώτου δίκην, as plausibly interpreted by Wentzel (p. 20), to a marriage-union devoid of bride-gifts (ἕδνα). No word from Lycophron to suggest the popular tradition (see page 111 below) whereby the Leucippides were already betrothed to the Apharetidae at the time of their abduction. Rather, the collocation of the two motives quoted above suggests that Lycophron is allusively exploiting a quite different (and incompatible) version in which the Dioscuri’s initial offense is to present no ἕδνα for (i.e. merely to abduct) their brides the Leucippides. But in Lycophron’s elliptical presentation two anomalous features stare us in the face: (i) why do the Apharetidae go so far as to use violence upon the Dioscuri? (ii) Why do they do this so long after (a) the original abduction; (b) the quarrel inspired by that abduction?
An economic answer is supplied by Σ Lycophron 547 (2.194 Scheer) which tells us that on a given occasion the Apharetidae taunted the Dioscuri for their failure to give ἕδνα to their brides and the Dioscuri respond simply and sharply: they steal the cattle of Aphareus in order to present them to Leucippus (ὀνειδισθέντες γὰρ οἱ Διόσκουροι, ὑπὸ τῶν Ἀφαρέως παίδων, ὡς μὴ ἐδεδώκεσαν ἕδνα ὑπὲρ τῶν Λευκίππου θυγατέρων, ἤλασαν τὰς Ἀφαρέως βοῦς ὡς δώσοντες [Wentzel p. 21: δόντες] τωι Λευκίππωι· περὶ ὧν ὁ πόλεμος).
Now this mite of information handily plugs the lacuna in Lycophron’s account; but the detail with which it does so is in no way implied by that account. It must emanate from a separate source, though one which was drawn upon by Lycophron himself. This source was obviously fairly ancient, exploiting as it did the primitive motifs of cattle-rustling (see Davies and Finglass, 231) and the purchase of brides with cattle (see P. Walcot, “Cattle Raiding, Heroic Tradition and Ritual: The Greek Evidence,” Journal of the History of Ideas 8 [1979]: 326–351). Was it the Cypria? Can that epic’s version be recovered from a combination of Lycophron and his scholion? Several factors combine to encourage a positive answer to these questions. In the first place, Proclus’ summary tells us that the scholion’s detail of cattle-rustling, no less than Lycophron’s picture of Paris’ entertainment by the Dioscuri, was anticipated in the Cypria. Then again, we happen to possess independent evidence that the daughters of Leucippus featured in the Cypria (F9: see page 102 below). Furthermore, Pindar’s statement (Nemean X 60) that the fatal encounter between the two sets of twins arose ἀμφὶ βουσίν very probably derives from the Cypria.
The same may be true of his remark that (line 65) πάθον δεινὸν παλάμαις Ἀφαρητίδαι Διός, which squares well with Lycophron’s insistence that the original quarrel was devised by Zeus. Note finally Aristotle Rhetoric 2.1397b21 εἰ μηδ’ οἱ Τυνδαρίδαι οὐδ’ Ἀλέξανδρος, with Stephanus ad loc. (p. 306 Rabe) εἰ γοῦν μὴ οἱ Τυνδαρίδαι πρῶτοι περὶ τὰς ἐξαδέλφας αὐτῶν ἐμάνησαν, οὐδ᾽ ἂν Ἀλέξανδρος περὶ τὴν αὐτῶν ἀδελφήν.
Wilamowitz’s remarks about Paris’ splendid appearance (page 97 above) are largely based on his own earlier speculation in Analecta Euripidea (Berlin 1875) 224 and n1. Here he observed that Euripides often refers to the effect on Helen of her guest’s oriental magnificence. See e.g. Cyclops 181–183 (Ἑλένη) τοὺς θυλάκους τοὺς ποικίλους | περὶ τοῖν σκελοῖν ἰδοῦσα καὶ τὸν χρύσεον | κλωιὸν φοροῦντα περὶ μέσον τὸν αὐχένα | ἐξεπτοήθη; Trojan Women 991–992 ὃν εἰσιδοῦσα βαρβάροις ἐσθήμασι | χρυσῶι τε λαμπρὸν ἐξεμαργώθης φρένας; Iphigenia in Aulis 73–74 ἀνδηροὸς μὲν εἱμάτων στόληι | χρυσῶι τε λαμπρὸς βαρβάρωι χλιδήματι. Vase paintings tell the same story (cf. L. Ghali-Kahil, Enlèvements et retour d’Hélène [Paris 1955] 168–170; LIMC s.v. “Alexandros” 1.1 G, pp. 505–508), and Wilamowitz supposed all these to reflect a scene in the Cypria. See further Kenney on Ovid Heroides XVI 187. Against this theory see Jouan 1966:187n1, observing that “le riche costume phrygien du héros n’apparaît dans les représentations de la rencontre des deux amants qu’à l’extrême fin du Ve s., en partie, sans doute, sous l’influence d’Euripide.”
Proclus Chrestomathia: καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα ἐν τῆι Σπάρτηι παρὰ Μενελάωι· καὶ ‘Ελένηι παρὰ τὴν εὐωχίαν δίδωσι δῶρα ὁ Ἀλέξανδρος.
…and after this, in Sparta with Menelaus, and Paris gives Helen gifts during the feasting.
The precise nature of the gifts is not specified in any extant literary source. Jewelry is what the artistic depictions of Helen’s encounter would suggest: see L. Ghali-Kahil, Les enlèvements et le retour d’Hélène, 168–170; LIMC s.v. “Helene” IV A 1.
Proclus Chrestomathia: καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα Μενέλαος εἰς Κρήτην ἐκπλεῖ.
And after this, Menelaus sails off to Crete.
Apollodorus Epitome 3.3: ἐφ’ ἡμέρας δ’ ἐννέα ξενισθεὶς [scil. Ἀλέξανδρος] παρὰ Μενελάωι, τῆι δεκάτηι πορευθέντος εἰς Κρήτην ἐκείνου κηδεῦσαι τὸν μητροπάτορα Κατρέα (Having been entertained for nine days by Menelaus, on the tenth day the latter journeys to Crete to attend to the funeral of his paternal grand-father, Catreus).
The epic motif of nine days’ feasting (see Richardson on Homeric Hymn to Demeter 47 [p. 166]) and the motivation for Menelaus’ trip to Crete which Apollodorus (and no other author) supplies may well derive from the Cypria, as Wagner (1891:174) saw.
The present tradition whereby Menelaus sails off to Crete, leaving Helen to entertain Paris, is also found in Euripides Trojan Women 943–944 (Helen addressing Menelaus): (Πάριν) | ὅν, ὧ κάκιστε, σoῖσιν ἐν δόμοις λιπὼν | Σπάρτης ἀπῆρας νηὶ Κρησίαν χθόνα); Ονid Heroides XVI 303–306; [125] Alcidamas’ Odysseus 17–18; and the summary of events leading up to the Trojan War published in H. J. M. Milne, Catalogue of the Literary Papyri in the British Museum (London 1927) papyrus 1873 (pp. 19–20), 25–27 (τ]οῦ δὲ Μεν[ελάου κ]|ατ’ ἐκε[ινόν τὸν και]ρὸν ἀποδη[μοῦν]|τος εἰς [Κρήτην). An alternative account, which has Menelaus leave before the arrival of Paris, seems implied by the author of Iphigenia in Aulis 75–77 (scil. Πάρις ὤιχετο) ἐξαναρπάσας | Ἑλένην πρὸς Ἴδης βούσταθμ’, ἐκδημον λαβὼν | Μενέλαον, as well as Andromache 592–595 ὅστις πρὸς ἀνδρὸς Φρυγὸς ἀπηλλάγης λέχος, | ἄκληιστ’ ἄδουλα. δώμαθ᾽ ἑστίας λιπών, | ὡς δὴ γυναῖκα σώφρον’ ἐν δόμοις ἔχων | πασῶν κακίστην (see Stevens on 593); Iliad XIII 626–627 οἵ μευ (scil. Μενελάου) κουριδίην ἄλοχoν καὶ κτήματα πολλά.
Proclus Chrestomathia: κελεύσας τὴν ‘Ελένην τοῖς ξένοις παρέχειν, ἕως ἂν ἀπαλλαγῶσιν.
Menelaus … bidding Helen provide for the visitors as long as he and she were separated.
It is striking to find so apparently trivial a detail accorded a relatively prominent place within this summary, and the likeliest explanation is that Menelaus’ unfortunately phrased and ill-omened injunction was somehow exploited in the Cypria. Compare Ovid Heroides XVI 303–306, where Paris reminds Helen of her husband’s parting words: “res et ut Idaei mando tibi,” dixit iturus, | “curam pro nobis hospitis, uxor, agas.” | neglegis absentis, testor, mandata mariti! | cura tibi non est hospitis ulla tui.”
Proclus Chrestomathia: καὶ μετὰ τὴν μεῖξιν τὰ πλεῖστα κτήματα ἐνθέμενοι νυκτὸς ἀποπλέουσι.
And after their union they stow away the maximum number of possessions and sail off at night.
Apollodorus Epitome 3.3: ἡ δὲ [scil. Ἑλένη] ἐνναέτη ‘Ερμιόνην καταλιποῦσα, ἐνθεμένη τὰ πλεῖστα τῶν χρημάτων ἀνάγεται τῆς νυκτὸς σὺν αὐτῶι (Helen, abandoning her nine-year-old daughter Hermione, stows away the maximum number of possessions and goes off during the night with [Paris]).
For depictions of the abduction in art see L. Edmunds, Stealing Helen (Princeton 2016) 129–136. Homer, as part of his more sympathetic presentation of Helen, places the πρώτη μεῖξις of the couple not in Sparta itself but on the island of Cranae (for ancient guesses as to the identity of the island see Jacoby on Hecataeus FGrHist 1 F 128 [p. 343] and Kannicht on Euripides Helen 1670–1675). As Σ Iliad III 445 (1.437 Erbse) observes, οὐκ ἐν Σπαρτήι ἐμίγη τῆι ‘Ελένηι (scil. Ἀλέζανδρος) ἵνα μὴ περιφανὴς γενήται.
The stolen goods also feature in Menelaus’ accusation of the Trojans at Iliad XIII 626–627 οἵ μευ κουριδίην ἄλοχον καὶ κτήματα πολλὰ | μὰψ οἴχεσθ’ ἀνάγοντες ἐπεὶ φιλέεσθε παρ’ αὐτῆι. See further J. Th. Kakridis, Homer Revisited (Lund 1971) 27n3 for other Iliadic passages mentioning these goods in such a way that Helen “and the κτήματα always appear, syntactically at least, to be of equal value.” [126] So too Herodotus II 114.2 (τὴν γυναῖκα … καὶ πολλὰ κάρτα χρήματα), 115.1 (τὴν ‘Ελένην τε καὶ τὰ χρήματα), etc. Compare (see page 165 below) Proclus’ resumé of a later portion of our epic: τὴν ‘Ελένην καὶ τὰ κτήματα ἀπαιτοῦντες (Herodotus II 118.3: ἀπαιτέειν ‘Ελένην τε καὶ τὰ χρήματα).
Womer (in Roscher 3.1304) speculated that the possessions here included the image of Pallas which Odysseus later recovered from Troy. There is no evidence at all for this.
Why the Dioscuri Did Not Participate
F9 Pausanias
Pausanias III 16.1 (1.239 Rocha-Pereira) de templis Laconicis
πλησίον δὲ Ἱλαείρας καὶ Φοίβης ἐστὶν ἱερόν· ὁ δὲ ποιήσας τὰ ἔπη τὰ Κύπρια θυγατέρας αὐτὰς Ἀπόλλωνός φησιν εἶναι.
Nearby is the temple of Hiliaera and Phoebe. The composer of the epic Cypria says they are daughters of Apollo.
Phoebe and Hilaeira are usually represented as the daughters of Leucippus: [127] and since Tyndareus and Aphareus were brothers of Leucippus (Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 10.3) it is hardly surprising that the Leucippides were regularly thought of as cousins of the Dioscuri and the Apharetidae. We have already examined the numerous traditions which link in adventure the three pairs of cousins (page 98 above).
But the tradition uniquely represented here, that Apollo fathered Phoebe and Hilaeira, is by no means difficult to understand. Apollo was early identified with the Sun (cf. Aeschylus Supplices 212–214, with Friis Johansen and Whittle ad loc.; Burkert, Griechische Religion 233 = Engl. transl. 149n55) and scholars have sought to equate Λεύκιππος (“Whitehorse”) with Helios: see M. L. West, Immortal Helen (Inaugural Lecture London 1975) 10 = Hellenica 1.87–88. His name is an epithet applied to Daylight or Dawn (cf. Garvie, “A Note on the Deity of Alcman’s Partheneion,” Classical Quarterly 15 [1965]: 187n3; Gow on Theocritus Idyll XIII 11) and could be attached with no less propriety to the Sun. Nor are Φοίβη and Ἱλάειρα unsuitable names for daughters of the Sun to bear: the first (“shining”) is of course an epithet of Apollo (cf. Burkert, “Apellai und Apollon,” Rheinisches Museum 118 [1975]:14 = Kleine Schriften 6.13n56) and is actually the name of a daughter of Helios (Hyginus Fabula 152 = Hesiod fr. 311 MW). The second only occurs elsewhere as an epithet of fire or the moon (see Empedocles B 40 DK ἵλαειρα Σελήνη and B 85 φλὸξ ἱλάειρα: cf. West as cited, 10 = 88). On its form see A. Hoeckstra, The Sub-Epic Stage of the Formulaic Tradition (Amsterdam 1969) 19n55.
The myth of the Leucippides’ rape by the Dioscuri would seem, then, to be a sort of doublet to the more famous story of Helen’s rape (see Garvie and West as cited above and for another set of brothers as “Doppelgänger” of Castor and Polydeuces cf. page 85n118 above). Thus the prehistory, as it were, of the Cypria’s version. [128] But I see no reason to assume (with, for instance, Wilamowitz, Textgeschichte der griechischer Bukoliker [Berlin 1906] 188n1) that the Cypria knew nothing of Leucippus. He might have featured as the adoptive father of the girls, just like his brother Tyndareus with the Dioscuri (so Rzach 1922:2384.15–16).
F10 Scholion on Euripides Andromache
Σ (ΜΝΟΑ) Euripides Andromache 898 (2.305 sq. Schwartz)
Λυσίμαχος [FGrH 382 F 12] καὶ ἄλλοι τινὲς ἱστοροῦσιν γενέσθαι ἐξ Ἑλένης καὶ Νικόστρατον [-στράτεον Ν, -στράταιoν Ο]. ὁ δὲ τὰς Κυπριακὰς ἱστορίας [FGrHist 758 F 6] συντάξας [συγγράψας Α] Πλεισθένην [-σθένει NO] φησὶ, μεθ’ οὗ εἰς Κύπρον ἀφῖχθαι καὶ τὸν ἐξ αὐτῆς τεχθέντα Ἀλεξάνδρωι Ἄγανον [Ἀγανόν Ν, unde Ἀγαυόν coni. Cobet, Ἀγλαόν Schwartz].
Lysimachus and others say Nicostratus too was born of Helen, and the author of the Cypria says Pleisthenes, in whose company she came to Cyprus, and that she bore Aganor to Paris.
Homer is explicit that Helen bore only one child to Menelaus, and none at all to Paris: ‘Ελήνηι δὲ θεοὶ γόνον οὐκέτ’ ἔφαινον | ἐπεὶ δὴ τὸ πρῶτον ἐγείνατο παῖδ᾽ ἐρατεινήν, | Ἑρμιόνην, ἡ εἶδος ἔχε χρυσῆς Ἀφροδίτης (Odyssey iv 12–14; cf. Iliad III 175). The reasons for this are complex. They are partly moral, and as such well explained by Griffin (1977:43 = 373):
In the Iliad the relationship of Paris and Helen is contrasted with that of Hector and Andromache: the wrong and the right way for husband and wife to live together. … It is part of such a conception that Andromache should have a child and Helen should not. The union of Helen and Paris is not a real marriage, and the presence of a child would destroy its clearly depicted atmosphere of hedonism and guilt. We have only to imagine the impact of the presence of a baby on the scene at the end of Iliad III, and of the absence of Astyanax from the end of Book VI.
The demands of morality will justify Homer’s denial of any offspring to the illicit liaison of Paris and Helen. Why was the perfectly proper relationship with Menelaus blessed with only one child? The answer is partly that provided by Σ Odyssey iv 11 (2.182 Pontani): διότι τὸ πολλά τεκεῖν ἀλλοιοῖ τὸ κάλλος τῆς γυναικός· μελλούσης γὰρ αὐτῆς μεσολαβήσαι εἰς τὸν πόλεμον τῶν Τρώων καὶ τῶν ‘Ελλήνων οὐκέτι ἐδίδουν αὐτῆι τέκνον οἱ θεοί, ἵνα τὸ κάλλος φυλάττηι, ὧι Ἀλέξανδρος ἡδυνθῆναι ἔμελλε. τὸ δὲ παντελῶς εἶναι ἄτεκνον ἦν δύσδαιμον καὶ κακόν. Cf. Porphyrii Quaestiones Homericae 2 (ad Odysseam pertinentes) Schrader 42–43. The repercussions of this view that “the gods forbid Helen to bear children, because they want to keep her exclusively an instrument of voluptuous love” are interestingly explored by J. Th. Kakridis, Homer Revisited (Lund 1971) 50–53, who also observes the merely practical difficulties caused by the presence of offspring brought into the world by Paris and Helen: “What would their fate have been after the sack of Troy? Would … the Achaeans kill them, or Menelaus take them away with him to Sparta?”
That these problems are very real for a certain type of mentality is strongly suggested by the attempt to solve them offered by Dictys Cretensis (Bellum Troianum V 5), according to whom Helen had three sons by Paris (Bunomus, Corythus, Idaeus), who were accidentally killed at Troy by the collapse of a roof. This version provides merely the latest and most extreme manifestation of the process represented by the present fragment, the filling out of details left blank by Homer, the interest in secondary and peripheral characters for their own sake. Helen already bears Nicostratus to Menelaus in Hesiod fr. 175 MW and Cinaetho (fr. 3), as well as Porphyrius, Quaestiones Homericae ad Odysseam pertinentes cited above, Lysimachus FGrHist 382 F 12, etc. Pleisthenes is a further child for Menelaus and Helen (and one very difficult to accommodate within a hexa-meter). Odyssey iv 10–12 is already aware that Menelaus fathered Megapenthes on a slave-girl, and Pausanias II 18.6 alleges that Nicostratus too was begotten in the same way. Stesichorus even provided Helen with an early child (Iphigenia) by Theseus (in which he was followed by other writers: see Davies and Finglass on Stesichorus fr. 86). For further lists and discussions of those offspring bestowed upon Helen by later and more sporadic attestations see Bethe, RE 7 (1912) s.v. “Helene,” 2830.48–2831.13; Jacoby on Acusilaus FGrHist 2 F 4 (1.384–385); Robert, Bild und Lied 55n4; Wilamowitz, Homerische Untersuchungen 174n17; Frazer, Loeb Apollodorus 2.28–29n2.
F11 Scholion on Iliad III
Σ AD Iliad III 242 (1.150 Van Thiel)
Ἑλένη ἁρπασθεῖσα ὑπὸ Ἀλεξάνδρου ἀγνοοῦσα τὸ συμβεβηκὸς μεταξὺ τοῖς ἀδελφοῖς Διοσκούροις κακόν, ὑπολαμβάνει δι᾽ αἰσχύνην αὐτῆς μὴ πεπορεῦσθαι τούτους εἰς Ἴλιον, ἐπειδὴ προτέρως ὑπὸ Θησέως ἡρπάσθη, καθὼς προείρηται· διὰ γὰρ τὴν τότε γενομένην ἁρπαγὴν Ἄφιδνα πόλις Ἀττικῆς πορθεῖται, καὶ τιτρώσκεται Κάστωρ ὑπὸ Φίδνου τοῦ τότε βασιλέως κατὰ τὸν δεξιὸν μηρόν. οἱ δὲ Διόσκουροι Θησέως μὴ τυχόντες λαφυραγωγοῦσι τὰς Ἀθήνας [A: Ἀφίδνας D].
ἡ ἱστορία παρὰ τοῖς Πολεμωνίοις ἢ τοῖς (A: ἤτοι D) Κυκλικοῖς, καὶ ἀπὸ μέρους παρὰ Ἀλκμᾶνι (fr. 21 PMGF) τῶι λυρικῶι. (ἡ ἱστορία παρὰ Κυκλικοῖς cod. Leidensis Voss 64 Valckenaer, Τελαμωνίοις pro Πολεμωνίοις cod. Vat. 915 (vid. Baumeister, Philol. 11 (1856) 168)).
ad nostrum carmen referunt complures, prob. Wentzel 1890:xxii sqq.
Helen was abducted by Paris in ignorance of what had happened meantime to her brothers the Dioscuri. She presumes that it was out of a feeling of shame that they did not make the journey to Troy, since she had previously been abducted by Theseus, as aforementioned. It was because of this previous abduction that the city of Aphidna in Attica was laid waste and Castor was wounded in the right thigh by Aphidnus, the king at that time. The Dioscuri, not encountering Theseus, took booty from Athens. The story is in the Ptolemaeans and partly in Alcman the lyric poet. The story is in the Cyclic poets.
F12 Herodotus
Herodotus II 117 (1.192 Wilson)
κατὰ ταῦτα δὲ τὰ ἔπεα καὶ τόδε τὸ χωρίον [Iliad VI 289 sqq., Odyssey IV 227 sqq., ibid. 351 sq.] οὐχ ἥκιστα ἀλλὰ μάλιστα δηλοῖ [Τ5] ὅτι οὐκ Ὁμήρου τὰ Κύπρια ἔπεά ἐστι ἀλλ’ ἄλλου τινός. ἐν μὲν γὰρ τοῖσι Κυπρίοισι εἴρηται ὡς τριταῖος ἐκ Σπάρτης Ἀλέξανδρος ἀπίκετο ἐς τὸ Ἴλιον ἄγων Ἑλένην, εὐαέι τε πνεύματι χρησάμενος καὶ θαλάσσηι.
Passages from the Iliad and the Odyssey indicate, not with the least but with the maximum force, that the Cypria is not the work of Homer but of someone else. For in the Cypria it is related that it was on the third day that Paris arrived at Troy from Sparta, enjoying a fair breeze and smooth sea.
λείηι· ἐν δὲ Ἰλιάδι [6 supra cit.] λέγει ὡς ἐπλάζετο ἄγων αὐτήν. Eustathius Il. 643.1 sqq. (2.315 Van der Valk): ὁ δὲ τὰ Κύπρια ποιήσας λέγει eadem. cf. Σ Clem. Protrepticus 22.22 (= T10 supra): Κύπρια ποιήματα … περιέχει ἁρπαγὴν Ἑλένης.
Proclus Chrestomathia: χειμῶνα δὲ αὐτοῖς ἐφίστησιν Ἥρα· καὶ προσενεχθεὶς Σιδῶνι ὁ Ἀλέξανδρος αἱρεῖ τὴν πόλιν.
Hera sends a sea-storm down upon the pair; and Paris puts in at Sidon and captures the city.
For Hera as sending a punitive storm see Iliad XIV 253–256 and XV 26–28, where Heracles is the victim, and, of course, Vergil Aeneid Book I, which may have been inspired by the original passage here epitomized. There is a direct and inescapable contradiction over route and weather between Proclus’ summary and the fragment preserved by Herodotus, who claims that the guilty pair enjoyed εὐαέι τε πνεύματι … καὶ θαλάσσηι λείηι. This brings us to what Jouan calls “l’irritant problème de la double version du voyage de Paris et d’Hélène.” Anyone who has waded through the attempted solutions will agree with him: “on attend encore une explication satisfaisante de ce désaccord entre nos sources” (L’épopée grecque [Actes du Xe Congrès de l’Association Guillaume Budé (Paris 1980)] 88).
What is probably the most popular explanation [129] was once espoused by Jouan himself (1966:181–182), as also, for instance, by Kullmann (1960:205–206). It involves that familiar elimination from Proclus’ summary of all doublets to and contradictions of the Homeric narrative which was natural once that summary had been detached from the original Chrestomathia and placed at the start of a manuscript of Homer. So here, it is alleged, Herodotus preserves the Cypria’s version, while Proclus has been brought into line with Homer’s account as contained in Iliad VI 289–292:
ἔνθ᾽ ἔσαν οἱ πέπλοι παμποίκιλοι, ἔργα γυναικῶν
Σιδονίων, τὰς αὐτὸς Ἀλέξανδρος θεοειδὴς
ἤγαγε Σιδονίηθεν, ἐπιπλὼς εὐρέα πόντον
τὴν ὁδὸν ἣν ‘Ελένην περ ἀνήγαγεν εὐπατέρειαν.
Σιδονίων, τὰς αὐτὸς Ἀλέξανδρος θεοειδὴς
ἤγαγε Σιδονίηθεν, ἐπιπλὼς εὐρέα πόντον
τὴν ὁδὸν ἣν ‘Ελένην περ ἀνήγαγεν εὐπατέρειαν.
The trouble with this explanation (as observed by, for instance, Rzach [1922:2387.28–36], A. Hartmann [Untersuchungen über die Sagen vom Tod des Odys-seus (Munich 1917) 24], and Huxley [“A Problem in the Cypria,” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 8 (1967): 26]) is that, though the summary of Proclus agrees with Homer on the route taken by the erring couple, there is no mention of a storm sent by Hera in this or any other passage of Homer. Scholars have consequently either turned to other, more or less implausible, solutions (e.g. Huxley’s idea that Herodotus had a different text of the Cypria before him) [130] or resorted to the hypothesis that in this particular instance Proclus’ summary has suffered interpolation deriving from an unknown source, which has also been drawn upon by Apollodorus Epitome 3.4: Ἥρα δὲ αὐτοῖς ἐπιπέπμει χειμῶνα πολὺν αὐτοῖς, ὑφ᾽ οὗ βιασθέντες προσίσχουσι Σιδῶνι, [131] what Kullmann (1960:205) calls “eine alte Ausschmückung der Iliasversion.”
Perhaps the difference between this last solution and the initial hypothesis of a deliberate alignment with the account employed by Homer is not so great after all. We must remember that Herodotus himself introduces the concept of Paris’ πλάνη (ὡς ἀπηνείχθη ἄγων Ἑλένην) into his discussion of Iliad VI as cited above (and Odyssey iv 227–232, which, however, relates to Menelaus’ return with Helen). Homer’s own narrative has no explicit mention of an involuntary and enforced visit to Sidon. Now this passage of Herodotus is particularly memorable (“the oldest piece of Homeric criticism in existence” says Leaf in his commentary on the Iliadic lines [1.282]). In it Herodotus categorically distinguishes Homer’s version (as expanded and elaborated by the historian himself) and the Cypria’s. When Proclus’ summary had to be brought into line with the Homeric scheme of things it is hardly surprising that Herodotus’ interpretation of Iliad VI 289–292 was adopted and set in the text of the summary. That Hera should have exploited this first opportunity to avenge herself on the mortal who slighted her at the Judgment is, as Hartmann (25) observes, a totally coherent concept, which has much in common with several Odyssean episodes, as does the notion that Paris sacked Sidon. So Kullmann concludes (1960:206) that Proclus “sich hier an die homerische Version anschliesst, wenn auch in ihrer fortentwickelten Form.”
Virtually no scholar has seriously doubted that Herodotus does preserve the Cypria’s version (though West supposes a “shorter version in which the oriental diversion was eliminated” [2013:92]). Its picture of a smooth and easy voyage home [132] seems reflected in Euripides Helen 1117–1121 ὅτ᾽ ἔδραμε ῥόθια πεδία βαρβάρωι πλάται | ὅτ ἔμολεν ἔμολε, μέλεα Πριαμίδαις ἄγων | Λακεδαίμονος ἀπὸ λέχεα | σέθεν, ὦ ‘Ελένα, Πάρις αἰνόγαμος | πομπαῖσιν Ἀφροδίτας and Aeschylus Agamemnon 690–692 [133] ἐκ τῶν ἀβροπήνων | προκαλυμμάτωω ἔπλευσεν | ζεφύρου γίγαντος αὔραι, as Jouan (1966:182n2) observes. Note also Ovid Heroides XVI 23 illa [scil. Venus] dedit faciles auras ventosque secundos and 127 ventisque ferentibus. The mention of Aphrodite in two of these passages reminds us that her status as marine deity (see page 94 above) might have been exploited. Note that, after the latter passage, Aeschylus describes the wedding at Troy of Helen and Paris: the same sequence as the Cypria’s.
Proclus Chrestomathia: καὶ ἀποπλεύσας εἰς Ἴλιον γάμους τῆς ‘Ελένης ἐπετέλεσεν.
And sailing away to Troy (Paris) celebrated his marriage to Helen.
The wedding of Helen and Paris is impressively referred to at Aeschylus Agamemnon 699–703 Ἰλίωι δὲ κῆδος ὀρθώνυμον τελεσσίφρων | Μῆνις ἤλασεν, τραπέζας ἀτίμωσιν ὑστέρωι χρόνωι | καὶ ξυνεστίου Διὸς | πρασσομένα τὸ νυμφό-τιμον μέλος ἐκφάτως τίοντας, | ὑμέναιον ὃς τότ’ ἐπέρρεπε γαμβροῖσιν ἀείδειν. Note too 744–749 παρακλίνασ’ ἐπέκρανεν δὲ γάμου πικρὰς τελευτάς … νυμφό-κλαυτος Ἐρινύς. [134]
Compare (with Wentzel 1890: xix) Paris’ promise to Helen in Ovid Heroides XVI 297 (nunc ea peccemus, quae corriget lora iugalis). A Corinthian krater of around 580 BC (LIMC s.v. “Alexandros” K 67: Payne, Necrocorinthia no. 1187, table 33.5) depicts the arrival of the couple. It still seems to be (as Payne [p. 135] described it in 1931) our only artistic representation of the event.
The End of the Dioscuri (F11)
For the general question of the tradition concerning Theseus’ abduction of Helen see Davies and Finglass on Stesichorus fr. 191. Suffice it here to refer to Hans Herter’s important article “Theseus der Ionier” in Rheinisches Museum 85 (1936): 194n7 for a bibliography of those scholars who accept the present fragment’s derivation from the Cypria, [135] and 194n6 for the hypothesis that παρὰ τοῖς Πολεμωνίοις (a notoriously difficult phrase) merely alludes to Polemon; see further Van der Valk 1963:351n169 on the question of the variant readings Ἀθήνας and Ἀφίδνας (for a detailed discussion of Aphidnae in the context of Helen’s abduction see Van der Valk 195–135 and Herter’s article s.v. “Theseus” in RE Suppl. 13 (1973) 1169–1170 (= 122–123 in the separate offprint).
Proclus Chrestomathia: ἐν τούτωι δὲ Κάστωρ μετὰ Πολυδεύκους τὰς Ἴδα καὶ Λυγκέως βοῦς ὑφαιρούμενοι ἐφωράθησαν.
In the meantime, Castor, in Polydeuces’ company, was detected rustling the cattle of Idas and Lynceus.
The internal chronology presupposed here fits perfectly with the Iliadic scheme of things where, as we shall see (page 119 below), Helen is represented as still ignorant of her brothers’ fate in the ninth year of the Trojan War. If they met their end after Helen’s abduction her ignorance is easily explained, as, more crucially, also their failure to pursue and recover Helen as in her previous abduction by Theseus, and to participate in the expedition to Troy. As for the external chronology, Proclus postpones the sequel to the Dioscuri’s entertainment of Paris, their encounter with the Apharetidae now to be considered, by interposing the adventures of Paris at Sparta and all his doings until his return to Troy. West (2013:88), and others have wondered whether Proclus has not rearranged the poem’s original sequence of events. But early epic’s tendency to present consecutively events actually occurring simultaneously is well known: see R. Scodel, “Zielinski’s Law Reconsidered,” Transactions of the American Philological Association 138 (2008): 107–126. It is surely more effective to follow Paris and Helen back to Troy and only then remind ourselves of the fate of the Dioscuri and their consequent inability to intervene to help their sister.
For the heroic dimensions of cattle-rustling in antiquity and its claim to treatment in epic poetry see Davies and Finglass p. 231. Antiquity knew various explanations as to the causes and circumstances of the clash between the Dioscuri on the one side and Idas and Lynceus the sons of Aphareus on the other. The Cypria’s is the earliest recorded account concerning which we possess any information. Then comes Pindar’s Tenth Nemean, which seems to follow our epic’s account fairly closely (see page 113 below).
In Theocritus the Dioscuri actually abduct the Leucippides from the wed-ding at which they are due to be united to the Apharetidae, and this it is that sparks off the final and fatal brawl. But we already knew that the abduction of the daughters of Leucippus by the Dioscuri was familiar in art long before Theocritus wrote. Pausanias III 17.3 mentions the appearance of the scene on the temple of Athena Chalkioikos at Sparta and (III 18.11) on the Amyclae throne. It is also to be found on the frieze of the Siphnian Treasury at Delphi. For these and other artifacts showing the same story see LIMC s.v. “Dioskouroi” IV B.
Various scholars have attempted to reconstruct the Cypria’s version from various sources. [136] As we shall shortly see, Apollodorus preserves an old variant which certainly involves a cattle-raid: but this expedition is jointly executed by the Dioscuri and the Apharetidae, a fact that cannot easily be reconciled with Proclus’ description of an assault by the former on the herds of the latter. Besides, we know from F9 that the Cypria mentioned the daughters of Leucippus, and these are conspicuous by their absence from Apollodorus’ narrative. They do appear in the version of events retailed by Theocritus Idyll XXII, but there the cattle-raid is missing. What we expect from the Cypria, then, is a narrative that will combine the Leucippides with the motif of the rustled cattle. And this is the story so kindly offered us by Σ Lycophron 547 (2.194 Scheer) as quoted and analyzed page 98 above, whereby in response to the Apharetidae’s taunts at their failure to provide their brides with dowry, the Dioscuri attempt to do just that by robbing the father of their mockers. What is clearly a different version may be found in Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 11.2. Here the Leucippides do not feature at all, and the quarrel between the two pairs of brothers arises over a division of the spoil from a cattle-raid made by all four into Arcadia. [137] The Apharetidae take the cattle off to Messene and the Dioscuri recover them “and much else beside”; they lie in ambush for Idas and Lynceus; but the latter espies them and the sequel culminates in the death of Castor. Theocritus (in his twenty-second Idyll) tells yet another story: after bribing Leucippus to go back on his promises to the Apharetidae (cf. Idyll XXII 148–149), [138] Castor and Polydeuces set the seal on a long period of dissension (cf. 152–153) by abducting the Leucippides from the very wedding at which they were to become wives of Idas and Lynceus (137–140). The cheated bridegrooms speed off in pursuit, but the Dioscuri turn and rout them: at least Castor slays Lynceus in single combat (175–178) and Zeus destroys Idas with a thunderbolt. Σ Pindar Nemean X 112 (3.178 Drachmann) tells pretty much the same story up to the fight; but then Castor is killed, Polydeuces finishes off his two opponents and Zeus sends a not very appropriate thunderbolt which comes too late to achieve anything (εἶτα Πολυδεύκης ἀνεῖλεν ἀμφότερους συμπράξαντος τοῦ Διὸς καὶ κεραυνὸν αὐτοῖς ἐπιπεμψάντος) and which has obviously been taken over from the Cypria’s version. On the obscure account of these events in Lycophron 503–568 see Hornblower’s commentary (Oxford 2015) ad locc. (pp. 243–250).
F13 Scholion on Pindar Nemean Ode X
13 Σ Pindar Nemean X 110 (61) (3.179 sq. Drachmann) = Didymi Ὑπομνήματα Πινδάρου fr. 61 Braswell
ὁ γὰρ τὰ Κύπρια συγγράψας φησὶ τὸν Κάστορα ἐν τῆι δρυῒ κρυφθέντα ὀφθῆναι ὑπὸ Λυγκέως· τῆι δὲ αὐτῆι γραφῆι καὶ Ἀπολλόδωρος [FGrH 244 F 148] κατηκολούθησε. πρὸς οὕς φησι Δίδυμος· ἀμφοτέρων ὑπὸ τῆι δρυῒ λοχώντων, τοῦ τε Κάστορος καὶ τοῦ Πολυδεύκους, 〈πῶς suppl. Wilamowitz〉 μόνον ὁ Λυγκεὺς τὸν Κάστορα εἶδε; μήποτε οὖν, φησι, δεῖ ἀναγινώσκειν τὴν παραλήγουσαν συλλαβὴν ὀξυτόνως τοῦ ἡμένος †ὡς ἠρμένος†, ἵνα κατ᾽ ἀμφοῖν ἀκούηται· ἴδε Λυγκεὺς δρυὸς ἐν στελέχει ἡμένος, ἀντὶ τοῦ ἡμένους, δηλονότι τοὺς Διοσκούρους· ὡς ἀελλόπος καὶ τρίπος· “οὐχ ἕδος ἐστί, γεραιέ” [Iliad XI 648] ἀντὶ τοῦ οὐχ ἕδους. παρατίθενται δὲ καὶ τὸν τὰ Κύπρια γράψαντα οὕτω λέγοντα·
αἶψα δὲ Λυγκεὺς
Τηΰγετον προσέβαινε ποσὶν ταχέεσσι πεποιθώς.
ἀκρότατον δ᾽ ἀναβὰς δειδέρκετο νῆσον ἅπασαν
Τανταλίδεω Πέλοπος, τάχα δ᾽ εἴσιδε κύδιμος ἥρως
5 δεινοῖς ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἔσω κοίλης δρυὸς ἄμφω
Κάστορά θ᾽ ἱππόδαμον καὶ ἀεθλοφόρον Πολυδεύκεα.
νύξε δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ἄγχι στὰς μεγάλην δρῦν …
Τηΰγετον προσέβαινε ποσὶν ταχέεσσι πεποιθώς.
ἀκρότατον δ᾽ ἀναβὰς δειδέρκετο νῆσον ἅπασαν
Τανταλίδεω Πέλοπος, τάχα δ᾽ εἴσιδε κύδιμος ἥρως
5 δεινοῖς ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἔσω κοίλης δρυὸς ἄμφω
Κάστορά θ᾽ ἱππόδαμον καὶ ἀεθλοφόρον Πολυδεύκεα.
νύξε δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ἄγχι στὰς μεγάλην δρῦν …
καὶ τὰ ἑξῆς.
For the author of the Cypria says that Castor was seen by Lynceus hidden in the oak. Apollodorus follows the same tradition. Didymus opposes both by saying that both heroes were waiting in ambush under the oak: for how could it be that Lynceus only saw Castor? No, he says: we must interpret the final syllable of the participle as oxytone, so that it applies to both heroes: Lynceus sees them both seated on an oak-stump [alleged parallels for this construction cited]. And they compare the author of the Cypria who said as follows:
Lynceus quickly sped to Taygetus, trusting in his swift feet. And climbing to the topmost part of the mountain he gazed over the whole island of Pelops, son of Tantalus, and swiftly the glorious hero with his formidably sharp eyes espied hidden within the hollow of an oak both of them, Castor the tamer of horses and Polydeuces winner of contests. So standing by the mighty oak he struck …
cf. Tzetzes Chiliades II 713 sqq. Leone
καί γε Στασῖνος … οὕτω τὰ ἔπη γράφων ἡρωικοῖς ἐν ἔπεσι λέγων· αἶψα – Πολ.
〈πῶς〉μόνον ὁ Λυγκεὺς τὸν Κάστορα εἶδε: valde arridet supplementum Wilamowitzii (〈μῶν〉μόνον iam Mommsen, <πῶς τούτωι τῶι τρόπωι λοχήσαντα> μόνον M. Schmidt, qui et ἀνεῖλε pro εἶδε coni.) ὡς ἠρμένος aut corrigendum (ἀρμένος Bergk) aut delendum (Drachmann) παρατίθενται codd., def. Severyns: παρατίθεται Bergk
2 Τηΰγετον Tzetzes: Ταϋγ– Σ Pind. ῥαχέεσσι Tzetzes ταχέσσι B, ταχέεσι D 4 Τανταλίδεω Schneidewin: Τανταλίδου codd. κύδιμος: ὄ(μ)βριμος Tzetzes 5 δεινοῖς D, Tzetzes: εἰν B ὀφθαλμοῖσιν: ὀφθαλμοῖς D κοίλης δρυὸς ἄμφω coni. Gerhard (ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἔσω κοίλης δρυὸς ἡμένω ἄμφω iam Heyne): δρυὸς ἄμφω κοίλης codd. 6 post h. versum lacunam posuit Ribbeck, fort. recte 7 ἄγχι στὰς Heyne: ἄγχιστα D, ἀγχίστωρ B unde ἄγχι στὰς τὸν Κάστορα coni. Heyne
On the source and contents of this scholion see in particular the comments of A. Severyns, “Pindare et les chants cypriens,” Antiquité Classique 1 (1932): 261–271, hereafter cited as Severyns, “Pindare” (cf. his remarks in 1928:275–278) and the fundamental edition of Didymus’ commentary by B. K. Braswell (Basel 2013) 240–243.
Aristarchus emended the manuscripts’ ἥμενος at Pindar Nemean X 62 to -νον. Didymus, by contrast, chose to interpret the παραδόσις as ἡμενός (i.e. Doric accusative plural for ἡμένους: on the likelihood of this cf. Barrett, Euripides Hippolytus 48n2). But in that case, Aristarchus can hardly have bolstered his emendation by referring to the Cypria in quite the bland and straightforward manner implied by the scholion. For, as we can judge from the few hexameters which the scholion itself promptly cites, that epic certainly depicted both Castor and Polydeuces as lurking within the oak. On a superficial reading, then, the Cypria supports Didymus’ interpretation, not Aristarchus’ emendation; and the scholion has badly misrepresented Aristarchus’ reasoning. His resort to the Cypria must have been altogether more subtle than the scholion allows. He will have realized that in Pindar’s treatment a plural would be inappropriate within a description that embraces the death of only one of the Dioscuri, and will have seen that the immediate context requires an accusative singular. He will then have alluded to the Cypria in order to show how Pindar has transformed the significance of certain details in it for his own particular ends. The nature of Didymus’ objection to the approach adopted by Aristarchus (how, he complains, would Lynceus detect only Castor if both Dioscuri were hiding in the oak?) suggests that he misunderstood or totally disagreed with his great predecessor’s viewpoint. The former possibility is a very real one: see Barrett, Euripides Hippolytus, pp. 47–48n1 (“one cannot rely on Didymus’ behaving rationally”), 48 (“the fantastic rubbish he can produce in interpreting a difficult text, in defiance of usage, syntax, and mere common sanity”); cf. pp. 123–126 of the edition of Didymus by Braswell.
One or two details: the Apollodorus mentioned by our scholion as accepting Aristarchus’ argument and his emendation is identified by Severyns (“Pindare,” 265n20) with the Athenian scholar and pupil of Aristarchus (the identification is also presupposed by Jacoby’s inclusion of our passage among that writer’s fragments) and not the alleged author of the relevant portion of the mythographical βιβλιοθηκή (Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 11.2) whose text (καὶ τὸν Ἴδαν ἐλόχων [scil. οἱ Διόσκουροι] καὶ τὸν Λυγκεά. Λυγκεὺς δὲ ἰδὼν Κάστορα ἐμήνυσεν Ἴδαι κἀκεῖνος αὐτὸν κτείνει) could be read as supporting either Aristarchus or Didymus in their respective interpretations. Didymus’ polemic against both Apollodorus and Aristarchus was presumably based on the former’s restatement of the Aristarchean case and the present scholion obviously derives (via several intermediaries and misunderstandings) from Didymus’ attempt at a refutation of the case.
In the sentence introducing the quotation from the Cypria which has as its subject Didymus, Apollodorus, and Aristarchus, who all had cause (from different motives, of course) to cite these lines, Severyns, “Pindare,” 265 adequately disposes of Bergk’s emendation παρατίθεται (accepted, however, by Braswell).
For the differences between the Cypria’s original treatment and Pindar’s reworking in the Tenth Nemean see F. Stahlin, “Die Dioskurenmythos in Pindars 10. nemeischer Ode,” Philologus 62 (1903): 182–195, and Severyn’s article “Pindare”; cf. G. Huxley, Pindar’s Vision of the Past (Belfast 1975) 20–21. Pindar has endeavored, suo modo, to eliminate or remodel any element that might operate to the discredit of his particular heroes. Thus the origin of the clash between the two pairs of twins in a cattle-raid is brushed aside with the calculatedly unspecific phrase ἀμφὶ βουσίν in line 60. That the Dioscuri should have hidden inside a hollow oak in order to ambush their cousins, as the Cypria had it, might seem a cheap and unworthy trick. Pindar takes over the oak tree but gives it a new significance, just as he retained the traditional cauldron and ivory shoulder blade of Pelops in the First Olympian only to totally recast and revise its meaning. In Pindar’s scheme of things, Castor merely happens to be sitting in all innocence δρυὸς ἐν στέλεχει (line 62) on the stump of an oak tree when the sharp-eyed Lynceus espies him (again as in the epic). He is planning no dastardly ambush with his brother. Indeed Polydeuces is nowhere in the vicinity, so that the Apharetids’ sudden attack on an outnumbered man seems unprovoked and despicable. Polydeuces has to run up to aid his beleaguered brother.
The fragment as a whole provides important evidence as to the location of the Dioscuri’s last stand. For, as several scholars have perceived (e.g. Wentzel, De Grammaticis Graecis Quaestiones Selectae I: Ἐπικλήσεις, 26; Wilamowitz, Textgeschichte der griechische Bukoliker, 188–189n1), Lynceus is envisaged as set-ting out from his native Messenia, and would have no cause to be leaping about the peaks of Mount Taygetus if the Dioscuri and their purloined cattle were still within his own part of Greece. They must already be in Laconian territory, whither they would most naturally turn. This neatly matches the evidence of Lycophron as to the whereabouts of the battle: the booty had not yet been delivered to Leucippus, for whom it was intended (see page 98 above).
1 . Λυγκεύς : a “redende Name” (for the proverbial nature of this hero’s sharp eye-sight see Seeliger in Roscher s.v. [2.2208.4–18]; for folktale parallels see West, Indo-European Poetry and Myth, 427n57). For significant names in epic see L. P. Rank, Etymologiseering en verwandte verschijnselen bij Homerus (Assen 1951) and the other authors cited by me in TE 35–36. ποσὶν ταχέεσσι πεποιθώς : the same line-end formula at Iliad VIII 339. Note also such variants as ποσὶν κραιπνοῖσι πεποιθὼς (Iliad VI 505, XXII 138), ποσὶν κραιπνοῖσι μετασπών (Iliad XVII 190), ποσὶν ταχέεσσι διώκεις | διώκει | διώκων (Iliad XXII 8 | 173 | 230).
2 . ἀκρότατον : for the superlative coupled with the name of a mountain see Lexikon des frühgriechische Epos s.v. ἄκρος 16 (c) (441). διεδέρκετο : LSJ s.v. 1.2 unnecessarily creates a fresh category for this passage (“II. see over”), pointlessly distinguishing the usage in [Theocritus] Idyll XXV 233 (“look about, πάντηι δὲ διέδρακεν ὀφθαλμοῖσι”). Gow on that occurrence rightly notes that our epic instance provides the same construction with an accusative. Both examples certainly differ from the only other attestation of the compound (Iliad XIV 344), where it means “see through x to y.” As Dihle observes (Homer–Probleme, 149), δέρκομαι may be in a state of transition from intransitive to transitive at Iliad X 197, XIII 86, but the purely transitive compound form here rings late. Parlato (2007a:18–19) quotes ἐπιδέρκεται from Odyssey xi 15–6, but there, if the reading is right (see Heubeck ad loc.), the subject is Helios the sun, the all-seeing deity (West on Hesiod Works and Days 267), looking down from the sky.
2 – 3 . νῆσον … | … Πέλοπος : listed among the signs of “lateness” in the Epic Cycle by Wilamowitz (Homerische Untersuchungen, 36n45). Wackernagel, Vorlesungen über Syntax 2.69 = Lectures on Syntax 486 gives a more detailed account. He shows that adjectival constructions such as Αἰολίη νῆσος are older than genitival versions like νῆσος ‘Ηελίοιο. Now the absence from Homer of any phrase corresponding to the present was noted in antiquity (cf. Σ Iliad IX 246 [2.454 Erbse] on Ἄργεος ἱπποβότοιο: σημειοῦνταί τινες, ὅτι τὴν ὅλην Πελοπόννησον οὐκ οἶδεν [<τὸ δὲ ὄνομα> οὐκ οἶδεν L. Friedländer, οὐκ οἶδεν <οὕτω καλούμενην> Erbse] ὁ ποιητής, ‘Ησίοδος [fr. 189 MW] δέ), and Wackernagel hazards that, if Homer had wished to refer to this part of the world, he would have used some such expression as Πελοπηΐδα γαῖαν (Apollonius of Rhodes IV 1570, 1577). νῆσον Πέλοπος recurs in Tyrtaeus fr. 2.15 W, Alcaeus fr. 34.1: see Page ad loc. (Sappho and Alcaeus, p. 266) and West 2013:127 for further examples. The form would seem at any rate to be earlier than the assimilation Πελοπόννησον (found in “Hesiod” as cited and Homeric Hymn to Apollo 250 ὅσοι Πελοπόννησοv πίειραν ἔχουσιν, which presupposes it). Cf. E. Risch, “Griechische Determinativkomposita,” Indogermanische Forschungen 59 (1949): 265–267 = Kleine Schriften 82–83.
3 . Τανταλίδεω Πέλοπος : the same phrase in Tyrtaeus fr. 12.7 W. Unaware that Schneidewin (“Zu den Bruchstücken der Homerischen Dichter,” Philologus 4 [1849]: 745) had already proposed Τανταλίδεω, W. Ribbeck, “Zu den Fragmente der griechischen Epiker,” Rheinisches Museum 33 (1878): 460 again restored it here instead of the paradosis Τανταλίδου, because that would be “der einzige auf -oυ auslautende Genetiv eines solchen Wortes in der ganzen alt-epischen Poesie ausser Βορέου” (Hesiod Theogony 870 in MS a, and Hesiod Works and Days 518 and 553 in all manuscripts strictly defined). The case for this conjecture is strengthened by West’s observation on the first passage that the intrusion of Βορέου in Hesiod “is most simply explained as a modernization,” and his observation on the second that -εω as against -εου at Theogony 870 now has support in a papyrus text of Works and Days 518. In such citational fragments as ours, modernization is a perpetual risk. One is given pause merely by the reflection that late linguistic features do seem to characterize our few remains of the Epic Cycle (see page 7 above).
4 . τάχα δ ’ εἴσιδε : in this metrical position often in Homer: cf. esp. Iliad XIV 13. κύδιμος ἥρως|: the epithet is unHomeric (κύδιμον Ἑρμῆν in Hesiod Theogony 938 and five times in Homeric Hymn to Hermes: the nominative form of the phrases four times in that hymn [46, 96, 130, 150]). Further details of its early life and post-Hellenistic popularity in Campbell’s note on Quintus of Smyrna XII 183; cf. West 2013:95.
5 . δεινοῖς ὀφθαλμοῖσιν : whether we class δεινός here under LSJ’s category II (“marvellously strong, powerful”) or, less plausibly, under its category III (“clever, skilful”), there will be some degree of anomaly to stomach, since the only Homeric instance of II is Iliad VII 245, of the σάκος of Ajax, while the first example of III comes as late as Herodotus V 23. The unHomeric language neatly echoes the unHomeric nature of its contents: see Griffin 1977:40–41 =367 for “the fabulous eye-sight of Lynceus … who could survey the whole Peloponnese at one glance” as the sort of fantastic notion Homer is eager to avoid. I see no cause to follow Ribbeck’s jettisoning of δεινοῖς in favor of the variant ειν (“Zu den Fragmenten der griechischer Epiker,” Rheinisches Museum 33 [1878]: 460) into which he vainly tried to inject some sense by taking ΕΙΝ as the remnant of ΣΙΝ, whence he conjectured (ὀξέ)σιv (cf. Σ Pindar Nemean X 62 Λυγκεὺς ὀξυδερκὴς ὢν, etc.). (Almost at the same time Peppmüller, “Zu den Fragmenten der griechischen Epiker,” Neue Jahrbücher für Philologie und Pädagogik [1885]: 834–835 by the same token conjectured ὄμμασιν ὀξυτάτοισιν.) In spite of the acquiescence of Kinkel (p. 26) and Allen (p. 122) in their respective editions, and the positive advocacy of Welcker (2.516: “dem ἄμφω scheint Nachdruck durch die Stellung gegeben zu sein”), the closing rhythm ––|––|| provided by the paradosis cannot be paralleled (ἠῶ|––|| in ἠῶ δῖαν and at Odyssey xviii 318, Hesiod Works and Days 574 presupposes an original ἠόα (cf. West, Hesiod, Works and Days pp. 62–63); also originally dactylic Λητοῦς υἱός (Scutum 202), δήμου φῆμις (Odyssey xiv 23), ἡμέας ἔλθοι (Iliad X 299); for further “quasi-exceptions” see West, Greek Metre, 37n13) and is more elegantly removed (by the transposition κοίλης δρυὸς ἄμφω advanced by E. Gerhard, Lectiones Apollonianae [Leipzig 1816] 115, approved by Nauck, Mélanges gréco-romains, 365, Rzach (1922:2384.64–68), Griffin (1977:51n6), West as cited, etc.; also put forward by C. W. Müller (1829:89–90) approved by Ribbeck, “Zu den Fragmente,” pp. 460–461) than the Doloneia’s εἴασ’ Ἕκτωρ (299) or ἰδρῶ πoλλόν (574).
6 . Κάστορά θ ’ ἱππόδαμον καὶ ἀεθλοφόρον : cf. Κάστορί θ’ ἱπποδάμωι, καὶ ἀεθλοφόρωι Πολυδεύκει, at Hesiod fr. 198.8 and 199.1 MW (from the list of Helen’s suitors). See too Hesiod fr. 23A.39 (the incomplete end of an hexameter: ἀε]θλοφόρο [ν Πολυδεύκεα | (Cf. Lobel, Oxyrhynchus Papyri 28 [1962] 11; F. Vian, in his review of Merkelbach and West’s Hesiodic Fragments, Gnomon 40 [1968]: 530), Κάστορά θ’ ἱππόδαμον καὶ πὺξ ἀγαθὸν Πολυδεύκεα (Iliad III 237, Odyssey xi 300, Orphica Argonautica 947); Ibycus fr. S 166.17 Κάστορι ]θ’ ἱπποδάμωι καὶ π̣[ὺξ ἀγαθῶι Πολυδεύκει (suppl. Lobel, Oxyrhynchus Papyri 35 [1968] 11), Ηomeric Ηymn XXXIII 3 Κάστορά θ᾽ ἱππόδαμον καὶ ἀμώμητον Πολυδεύκεα; Theocritus Idyll XXII 34 Κάστωρ δ᾽ αἰολόπωλος ὅ τ’ οἰνωπὸς Πολυδεύκης: cf. Gow ad loc. and W. D. Meier, “Die Epische Formel im pseudohesiodeischen Frauenkatalog” (diss. Zurich 1976) 108–109. For Latin versions see Horace Odes I 12.25 and Nisbet and Hubbard ad loc. The antinomy expressed in these formulae is usually maintained, but for both twins as connected with horses see Davies and Finglass on Stesichorus frr. 2b and 2c, and for both as athletes see Theocritus Idyll XXII 24.
Ribbeck (“Zu den Fragmente,” 461) insisted on a lacuna after this line, since he objected to a breathless haste in the narrative that Griffin (p. 51) takes to be incurable: “Lynceus runs up Taygetus, spies the hidden heroes in a hollow oak, and next moment he is stabbing at the tree … what the Cypria seems to have offered was the barest possible narrative, again compressed beyond all hope of excitement.” Either approach runs the risk of circular argument: these often poorly preserved fragments frequently seem to move by leaps and bounds. The possibility that stages in the narrative have dropped out is very real here and elsewhere. On the other hand, there are enough independent indexes that the post-Homeric epics indulged in this type of abbreviated narrative to inhibit instant and automatic appeal to the notion of a lacuna.
7 . νύξε δ ’ ἄρ ’: νύξε often stands at the start of a line in the Iliad. Cf. the equivalent portion of the combat in Theocritus Idyll XXII 194–195 πολλὰ δ’ ἔνυξεν ἀκριβὴς ὄμμασι Λυγκεύς | τοῖο σάκος. Following Heyne (Apollodori Bibliotheca 2 [ad Apollodori Bibliothecam Observationes] [Göttingen 1803] 291), Schneidewin (“Zu den Bruchstücken der Homerischen Dichters,” Philologus 4 [1849]: 746) completed the line with νύξε δ’ ἄρ᾽ ἄγχι στὰς τὸν Κάστορα δουρὸς ἀκωκῆι. Rossbach (“Epica,” Neue Jahrbücher für classische Philologie [1891]: 83) has a different remedy: ἔγχεϊ μακρῶι or δούρατι χαλκῶι, inspired by τὸν Κάστορα ἔτρωσε λόγχηι from Σ Pindar Nemean X 114 (3.180 Dr.). For a more ambitious recomposing of this line and the verse that originally stood after it see Ribbeck (as cited on line 5) 141; T. Momm-sen, Parerga Pindarica (Frankfurt 1877) 36; West 2013:96 (ὄβριμος Ἴδας).
Proclus Chrestomathia: καὶ Κάστωρ μὲν ὑπὸ τοῦ Ἴδα ἀνειρεῖται, Λυγκεὺς δὲ καὶ Ἴδας ὑπὸ Πολυδεύκους.
Castor is killed by Idas, and Lynceus and Idas by Polydeuces.
In Pindar Nemean X 50–72 Idas likewise deals Castor a mortal blow, after which Idas and Lynceus together throw their father’s tombstone at Polydeuces when he runs up. To no avail, since Polydeuces kills Lynceus and Zeus strikes Idas dead with a thunderbolt, Pindar seems to be at some pains to stress that Polydeuces was not wounded by the unusual missile (67–69 ἁρπάξαντος … ξεστὸν πέτρον, | ἔμβαλον στέρνωι Πολυκεύκεος ἀλλ᾽ οὐ νιν φλάσαν | οὐδ᾽ ἀνέχασσαν). Elsewhere in this poem, Pindar can be detected in the act of correcting the version of events handed down by the Cypria (see page 113 above), so that we wonder whether here too there is not some comparable significance. The relevant detail certainly occurs in Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 11.2, whose narrative elsewhere departs from the Cypria’s in very significant ways (page 110 above). Here Idas again kills Lynceus, Polydeuces is wounded but disposes of Lynceus, and Zeus destroys Idas. In Theocritus Idyll XXII 181–211 Castor kills Lynceus as he turns in flight, Idas tears up his father’s tombstone in order to throw it at Castor, but Zeus forestalls him with the thunderbolt. The extraordinary features of this narrative—the stress on Castor’s role to the exclusion of Polydeuces’, the way in which Castor survives the struggle—are due to Theocritus’ desire to eulogize the Dioscuri, and to eulogize them separately and individually: cf. Gow, “The Twenty-Second Idyll of Theocritus,” Classical Review 56 (1942): 15. In Ovid’s Fasti V 693–714, Lynceus kills Castor, Polydeuces Lynceus, and Zeus Idas; in Hyginus Fabula 80 Castor kills Lynceus, Idas Castor, and Polydeuces Idas (see Rose ad loc. and page 111n138 above). Lycophron’s rendering of these events resists such simple classification, but after Wentzel’s careful analysis (in De Grammaticis Graecis Quaestiones Selectae I: Ἐπικλήσεις, 25–29) it would be difficult to deny that lines 553–561 of his masterpiece of contortion reproduce in abbreviated form the essence of the Cypria’s account. See further Hornblower’s commentary ad loc.
If in the Cypria Aphareus’ tombstone was used as a missile (so Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 11.1–2: see above), then, as Wilamowitz observed (Textgeschichte der griechischen Bukoliker, 188–189n1), Aphareus’ grave must have been located by that poem in Laconia, because of the evidence of F13 (see page 114 above), which clearly indicates that the Dioscuri had reached home territory with their booty before their cousins came upon them. West (2013:96) supposes that this version, involving Polydeuces’ being knocked unconscious, is the oldest and is that followed in the Cypria. Pindar characteristically reworked it for the greater dignity of the hero, whom he did not wish to see even temporarily humiliated in this way.
Proclus Chrestomathia: καὶ Ζεὺς αὐτοῖς ἐτερήμερον νέμει τὴν ἀθανασίαν.
And Zeus grants them alternating immortality.
Or, as in Pindar’s narrative derived from this region of the Cypria (Nemean X 85–88), Zeus tells Polydeuces ἔστι σοι τούτων λάχος· εἰ δὲ κασιγνήτου πέρι | μάρνασαι, πάντων δὲ νοεῖς ἀποδάσσασθαι ἴσον,| ἥμισυ μέν κε πνέοις γαίας ὑπένερθεν ἐών | ἥμισυ δ’ οὔρανου ἐν χρυσέοις δόμοισιν. Compare his remarks in Pythian XI 61–64.
We have already seen that our epic’s presentation of an immortal Polydeuces runs counter to the general Homeric austerity in such matters and also to the specific Iliadic passage which treats the twins as dead and buried in Sparta (see page 114 above). The idea of a shared immortality on alternate days is no less un-Illiadic (cf. Griffin 1977:42–43 = 372), but the Odyssey is slightly more accommodating in these and related spheres (as witness Menelaus’ own account of his promised exemption from death at Odyssey iv 561–569; and within the catalogue of heroines encountered by Odysseus in the Underworld we find this (Odyssey xi 298–304):
καὶ Λήδην εἶδον, τὴν Τυνδαρέου παράκοιτιν,
ἥ ῥ’ ὑπὸ Τυνδαρέω κρατερόφρονε γείνατο παῖδε,
300 Κάστορα ἱππόδαμον καὶ πὺξ ἀγαθὸν Πολυδεύκεα,
τοὺς ἄμφω ζωοὺς κατέχει φυσίζοος αἶα·
οἳ καὶ νέρθεν γῆς τίμην πρὸς Ζηνὸς ἔχοντες
ἄλλοτε μὲν ζώουσ’ ἐτερήμεροι, ἄλλοτε δ’ αὖτις
τεθνᾶσιν· τίμην δὲ λελόγχασιν ἶσα θεοῖσιν. [139]
ἥ ῥ’ ὑπὸ Τυνδαρέω κρατερόφρονε γείνατο παῖδε,
300 Κάστορα ἱππόδαμον καὶ πὺξ ἀγαθὸν Πολυδεύκεα,
τοὺς ἄμφω ζωοὺς κατέχει φυσίζοος αἶα·
οἳ καὶ νέρθεν γῆς τίμην πρὸς Ζηνὸς ἔχοντες
ἄλλοτε μὲν ζώουσ’ ἐτερήμεροι, ἄλλοτε δ’ αὖτις
τεθνᾶσιν· τίμην δὲ λελόγχασιν ἶσα θεοῖσιν. [139]
On the paradox in these accounts, whereby there is a “Life” within immortality, and life and death no longer function as polar opposites see Burkert, Griechische Religion 326= Engl. transl. 213. Cf. Cook, Zeus 2.438–440. [140]
In Iliad III 236–242 Helen remarks that she cannot see her two brothers among the Greek leaders and deduces that they are probably too ashamed to appear. The poet then gives the truth in two lines famous for their pathos:
ὣς φάτο, τοὺς δ’ ἤδη κάτεχεν φυσίζοος αἶα
ἐν Λακεδαίμονι αὖθι, φιλῆι ἐν πατρίδι γαίηι. (243–244)
ἐν Λακεδαίμονι αὖθι, φιλῆι ἐν πατρίδι γαίηι. (243–244)
The idea that one of them might be immortal, let alone the notion that both may enjoy immortality on alternate days, would be quite inconsistent with the Iliad’s tragic view of the human predicament and its poignant contrast between mortal and immortal existence (cf. Griffin 1977:42= 372).
Hesiod fr. 24 MW (preserved by Σ Pindar Nemean 10.150 [3.182 Dr.]) is even more distant from Homeric restraint in these matters with its suggestion that both Castor and Polydeuces were begotten by Zeus: ὁ μὲν ‘Hσίoδoς ἀμφοτέρους Διὸς εἶναι γενεαλογεῖ.
F14 Philodemus
Philodemus De Pietate N 247 Va 23 + 242 Va 24 sqq. + 247b 1 sqq. (vid. A. Henrichs, Cron. Erc. 5 [1975] 10 sq.)
τοὺς24 [δὲ Δι]οσκούρους |[καὶ τ]ὸν Ἡρακλέα |[καὶ] τετελευτη|[κέ]ν̣αι φησί. Κάστο|28[ρα δ]ὲ ὑπὸ Εἴδα τοῦ |[Ἀφα]ρέως κατη{ι}[κοντ]ίσθαι γέγρα|1φεν ὁ [τὰ Κύπρια] |ποήσα[ς καὶ Φερεκύ]|δης ὁ Ἀ[θηναῖος [FGrHist 3 F 165], κτλ.
The Dioscuri and Heracles also suffered death: Castor at the hands of Idas, son of Aphareus, slain by a spear thrust, according to the author of the Cypria.
N 242 Va 24–6 suppl. Schöber, 27–30 Bücheler; N 247 Vb 1 suppl. Dietze, 2–3 Nauck.
Footnotes
[ back ] 1. Ignored by, for instance, Lloyd-Jones in his article (1968–72).
[ back ] 2. Its employment of the phrase συγκροτῆσαι … πόλεμον is not as unusual as LSJ s.v. συγκροτέω might lead one to suppose. The idiom is common enough in late Greek: see, for instance, Σ Aristophanes Plutus 1002a (iii 4a Chantry): ὁ Σαμιὸς συγκροτῶν πρός τινας πόλεμoν.
[ back ] 3. For this as a correct emendation see page 32n33 below.
[ back ] 4. So Welcker (1865:2.85): “diese Verse machten, scheint es, ohne Anrufung der Muse … den Anfang des Gedichtes aus.” The same erroneous conclusion has been reached by e.g. Diels (1921:8: “zu Beginn”); K. Latte, RE 5 A2 (1934) 1626 = Kleine Schriften 140, who refers to what will have happened “hinter den erhaltenen Eigangsversen”; and Lloyd-Jones 1968–72:119 (“we have the opening lines of the poem” [cf. 121]). An initial invocation to the Muse(s) is presumed by, for instance, Bethe (1929:155 and 228) and Kranz 1961:7 = 1967:30), and the mere phrase ἦν ὅτε at the very start of our fragment should not by itself exclude this possibility. A cautious stance is adopted by Kullmann, “Ein vorhomerisches Motiv im Ilias Proömium,” Philologus 99 (1955): 179 = Homerische Motive 23 (the verses “offenbar ziemlich am Anfang des Epos stand”) and by Severyns, 1965:10 (“quand bien même les sept vers ne seraient pas les premiers … ils doivent avoir été fort près du début”), as already by Müller (1829:129: “fragmentum … haud longe ab ipso carminis initio remotum”).
[ back ] 5. Jouan 1966:47n1 lists many of them. Add Severyns’ article “Sur le début,” 14–15, which convincingly explains why omission of a non-narrative proem from a bald summary need not offend.
[ back ] 6. A bibliography in Kullman 1955:183n1.
[ back ] 7. See page 32n33 below.
[ back ] 8. See page 35 below.
[ back ] 9. That the impiety motif had an independent existence is evidenced by the grammarian Euclides ap. schol. b on Iliad I.5 ἡ Διὸς βουλἠ τὀ τοὺς ἠδικηκότας ἀξίαν δουναι δίκην ὧν ἠδίκησαν, and the hypothesis to Iliad I published in 1989 as P.Oxy. 3829 (late third century AD), col. ii 8–12, where we read ὁ Ζεὺς, ἀσέβειαν καταγνοὺς τοῦ ἡρωικοῦ γένους, βουλεύεται μετὰ Θέμιδος ἄρδην αὐτοὺς ἀπολέσαι, an important confirmation of Heyne’s conjecture in the text of Proclus (page 32n33 below). But despite this shared role of Themis, there is no way in which impiety could have featured in the Cypria’s proem.
[ back ] 10. This invalidates the otherwise reasonable observation made by Jouan (among others) to the effect that “pour la liaison avec la guerre thébaine, l’absence de référence dans le court fragment conservé ne prouve rien” (1966:47). That the Theban war was linked to the Trojan War as early as Hesiod Works and Days 162 and will have been familiar as a poetic topic to the composer of the Cypria (as stressed by Severyns [1925:178] and repeated by Jouan [1966:47n6]) does nothing to explain how it could originally have been mentioned within our fragment.
[ back ] 11. The so-called Mythographus Homericus: see F. Montanari in Greek Literary Theory after Aristotle, ed. S. R. Slings et al. (Amsterdam 1995) 135–172; J. Pagès, “Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca and the Mytho-graphus Homericus: An Intertextual Approach,” in Apollodoriana, ed. J. Pàmias (Berlin 2017) 66–81.
[ back ] 12. Pearson himself supposes that Momus did appear in the Cypria.
[ back ] 13. Stiewe’s alternative reconstruction (“Die Entstehungszeit der hesiodischen Frauenkataloge II,” Philologus 107 [1963]: 12–14) is too heavily dependent upon some speculative supplements to be taken very seriously.
[ back ] 14. As are the dissimilarities with the scheme of things in the Works and Days’ Myth of Ages, where (lines 161–196), though the fourth generation—that of heroes—meets its end again partly as a result of the Trojan War, Zeus bears no responsibility for it: cf. West’s “Hesiodea,” 136 and his note on Hesiod Works and Days 106–201. I find West’s interpretation here superior to that of Wilamowitz (in the editio princeps [BKT 5.1.42], adopted and expanded by Stiewe (1963:6): these scholars suppose that the relevant passage of the Works was the inspiration of the picture in Hesiod fragment 204.
[ back ] 15. Editio princeps (BKT 5.1.1.42): “Das geht auf die ἔρις nicht den Streit der drei Göttinnen um die Schönheit, sondern die Parteiung der Götter, die die ganze Ilias zeigt.”
[ back ] 16. A phrase coined by G. S. Kirk (The Songs of Homer [Cambridge 1962] 164) to describe the style which Homer often resorts to “in summaries of epic incidents lying outside the main plot of the Iliad or Odyssey.”
[ back ] 17. I would not exclude the possibility that both poems were dependant upon the Iliad. We shall see that the most coherent solution of the identical phrase at the beginning of the Iliad and in line 7 of our fragment Iliad I 5’s Διὸς δ᾽ ἐτελείετο βουλή has been reinterpreted by the Cypria (see page 31 below). Likewise, the verbal similarities between fr. 204.118–119 MW (… π]ολλὰς Ἀΐδηι κεφαλὰς ἀπὸ χαλκὸν (χαλκῶι Kloucek) ἰάψ[ει]ν | ἀνδρῶν ἡρώων ἐν δηϊοτῆτι πεσόντων]) and Iliad I.3–4 πολλὰς δ᾽ ἰφθίμους ψυχὰς (κεφαλὰς leg. Apollonius of Rhodes: cf. Pfeiffer, History of Classical Scholarship 1.147–148; West, Studies in the Text and Transmission of the Iliad (Munich/Leipzig 2001) 173) Ἄϊδι προϊαψεν | ἡρώων) were immediately recognized by Wilamowitz (BKT 5.1.42: “Die Ilias direkt benutzt ist.”). Note too that Apollo is the most likely subject of the sentence in Hesiod fr. 204.118 MW and is immediately referred to by Iliad I.9 as the god directly responsible for the quarrel that led to the carnage described in Iliad I.3–5.
[ back ] 18. For analysis of the general narrative formula “once upon a time” see J. Wackernagel, “Indogermanische Dichtersprache,” Philologus 95 (1943): 18 = Kleine Schriften 1.203 = Indo-germanischer Dichtersprache (Wege der Forschung 165 [1968]) 100–101 and D. Fehling, Amor und Pysche (Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur Abhandlungen der geistes- und sozialwissenschaftlichen Klasse 9 [1977]) 79–88. (The former presumes an Indo-European origin; the latter is more skeptical). Further references in my article “Sisyphus and the Origin of Religion,” Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 36 (1989): 18n4.
[ back ] 19. I owe these references to R. Kassel.
[ back ] 20. For a full bibliography of the scholars who have subscribed to this interpretation of the evidence see Kullmann 1955:185n1.
[ back ] 21. See too his earlier book Das Wirken der Götter in der Ilias (Berlin 1956) 15n3, 21, and 26, and 1960:47 and nn1 and 2. He gives a useful bibliography of scholars who hold views similar to his own in 170n2 (= 168n12 of his article). One should add e.g. G. S. Kirk, “Greek Mythology: Some New Perspectives,” Journal of Hellenic Studies 92 (1972): 79 (cf. his Myth: Its Meaning and Function in Ancient and Other Cultures [Berkeley 1970] 116–117).
[ back ] 22. This analogy is explicitly drawn by Kullmann in 1955 (189 = 32 of his article). But although with the Judgment of Paris one understands what Reinhardt means when he says that the story is essential to the whole plot of the Iliad, the same can hardly be alleged of the Iliad and the plan to ease the earth.
[ back ] 23. Added in the supplementary note in 1956:132–133 (= 36–37).
[ back ] 24. See in particular, W. Burkert, Zum altgriechischen Mitleidsbegriff (diss. Erlangen 1955) 80n1 (on an earlier version of Kullman’s book Das Wirken der Götter) and Gnomon 29 (1957): 167 (on Kullman’s Philologus article). Note esp. “Der ‘Glaube an die olympischen Götter’ findet den göttlichen Ursprung in allem Geschehen”; and “In allen Schrecken des Krieges vollzieht sich der Wille des Zeus” (cf. page 30 below). Note also the critique of Severyns (1965:11n37).
[ back ] 25. One need not identify this pledge with the Iliadic Διὸς βουλή to approve this view. (For a list of scholars from Aristarchus onwards who have, in fact, made this identification see Kullmann 1960:169=12n1; A. Paul, Die Barmherzigkeit der Götter im griechische Epos [diss. Vienna 1969] 96n1.) Aristarchus himself had ulterior motives for adopting this interpretation: his habitual reluctance to explain Homer in the light of οἱ νεώτεροι. Hence his determination (ap. ΣΑ Iliad I 5–6) to take ἐξ οὗ together so that the Διὸς βουλή is simultaneous with Achilles’ μῆνις rather than preceding it as insisted; cf. Severyns 1928:246–47 (on Zenodotus’ obelization of Iliad I 4–5 and its probably motives see Pfeiffer, History of Classical Scholarship 1.111 and 146; West, Studies in the Text and Transmission of the Iliad [Munich/Leipzig 2001] 173). Kullmann (1955:169 = 13–14) delivers a powerful attack on this identification. But his reason (the audience is not yet acquainted with Zeus’ pledge to Thetis, which might more appropriately [as in Iliad VIII 370] be termed Θέτιδος βουλή) perhaps underestimates Homer’s fondness for anticipating important events in the narrative.
[ back ] 26. For a full bibliography of scholars who accept this see Kullman 1955:185n (= 28n46). We should now add in particular Jouan 1966:48–49 and Griffin 1977:48 = 384.
[ back ] 27. For useful surveys of the various interpretations that have been advanced see J. Redfield, “The Proem of the Iliad,” Classical Philology 74 (1979): 105–108 = Oxford Readings in Homer’s Iliad (2001) 470–473; and W. Allen, “Performing the Will of Zeus: The ΔΙΟΣ ΒΟΥΛΗ and the Scope of Early Greek Epic,” in Performance, Iconography, Reception (Taplin Festschrift; Oxford 2008) 204–216.
[ back ] 28. See Kullmann 1955:167n2 (= 11n2) for a bibliography of those who have taken this view. Add Van der Valk 1963:20n100, Griffin 1977:48 = 384, etc.
[ back ] 29. For other phrases in Greek literature involving a βουλή or βουλαί of one god in particular or the gods in general see Kullmann 1960:168n1 (= 12n3), W. D. Meier, “Die epische Formel im pseudo-hesiodeischen Frauenkatalog: Eine Untersuchung zum nachhomerischen Formelgebrauch” (diss. Zurich 1976) 24–25.
[ back ] 30. Compare Eustathius 20.5 (1.33 Van der Valk): μυρία … καὶ ἡρωϊκά, ἐνταῦθα δὲ κορωνίδα τινὰ ἐπιτιθεὶς αὐξήσεως ἐπάγει ‘Διὸς δ’ ἐτελείετο βουλή’, ὡς μὴ ἂν τῆς τοῦ Ἀχιλλέως μήνιδος τοιαῦτα δυνησομένης, εἰ μὴ θεία τις ἦν βουλή.
[ back ] 31. The three passages are compared by, for instance, H. Lloyd-Jones, “The Guilt of Agamemnon,” Classical Quarterly 12 (1962): 199 = Academic Papers [I] 299.
[ back ] 32. According to J. A. Notopoulos, “Studies in Early Oral Greek Poetry,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 68 (1964): 33–34, “Once it is realised that the theme of a quarrel involving the will of a god is a common theme in old oral epics [sic] it is unreasonable to insist on the dependence of the Cypria on the Iliad … any attempt to tie the Cypria to a literary mimesis of the Iliad is disproved by the fact that the key phrase … is a formula.” I fail to see the logic of the argument here, and Notopoulos is certainly mistaken in supposing the Cypria “too early” to be dependent for its phrase on the Iliad (see pages 6–7 above).
[ back ] 33. This palmary emendation of the manuscripts’ Θέτιδος was made by Heyne in the editio princeps (p. 28). Severyns has eloquently summed up the reasons for rejecting the paradosis (1928:199; cf. his article of 1965:4): “Le rôle ici prêté à Thetis n’est pas seulement insolite: il est, en outre, impensable. A quel titre délibérerait-elle avec Zeus, pour en arriver, au bout du compte à decider une mésalliance dont elle sera la première victime?” Heyne’s correction has been accepted by practically all scholars (except Kullmann, who dithers in his article [181–182 = 243] and daggers in his book [1960:52]). As Severyns explains (as cited and ap. Kullmann 181n1 = 24n30), the corruption is largely psychological. It is of the type discussed and illustrated by Fraenkel, Aeschylus Agamemnon 3.655n1 (cf. his article “The Dirae,” Journal of Roman Studies 56 [1966]: 145n9): “two elements are combined, a mechanical error, arising from the literal similarity of two words, and a mental error, the writer’s thought straying to some word suggested by the context.” To complain (with Kullmann in his article 181n1 = 24n30) that Thetis’ wedding is described in Proclus’ text as οἱ Πηλέως γάμοι and that her actual name does not occur until near the end of the Cypria’s summary is to limit too strictly the scope of the word “psychological” and the capacity of a scribe’s mind for wandering. The same corruption occurs, for instance, in MS A of Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 13.5 (cf. Wagner 1891:107; Severyns 1965:14n48). See too Pausanias III 22.2: ἄγαλμα Θέμιδος … ἐγγὺς τῆς Μιγωνίτιδος (Θέτιδος codd. [cf. ἐν Θέτιδος λόγοις at Pausanias III.21.9]: Θέμιδος Schubart); cf. S. Wide, Lakonische Kulte (Leipzig 1893) 143n3 and 240n1 (though the suggestion of Maass in the latter note that Θέτις can be a “Kurzname” for Θεσμο-Θέτις is dispensable). Even the great Welcker was not above confusing the two names (Nachträge zu die Aeschyli Trilogia Prometheus [Frankfurt 1826] 313; cf. Pearson, The Fragments of Sophocles 1.139). See Severyns’ article “Sur le début,” 14nn46–47 for further refutation of Kullmann’s position. [L. Käppel, the editor of the Iliadic hypothesis mentioned on page 18n9 above, reasonably concluded (on p. 34) that it “confirms Heyne’s correction.”]
[ back ] 34. For a handy summary of the various underlying views of the original concept behind Themis see Lloyd-Jones, Justice of Zeus, 166–167n23; A. Lo Schiavo, Themis e la sapienza dell’ordine cosmico (Naples 1997).
[ back ] 35. Hirzel, Themis, Dike und Verwandtes, 2 had already categorically excluded any reference to “das Richten und Strafen der Menschen” and ruled out (n4) any possibility of a righteous war (similarly negative is Ehrenberg, Rechtsidee, 37n5).
[ back ] 36. Themis is Gaea’s daughter at Hesiod Theogony 135, but she and Mnemosyne are Gaea’s offspring “merely because of their age” (West ad loc.).
[ back ] 37. Nor is Zeus’ role as chthonic deity (cf. S. Wide, Lakonische Kulte [Leipzig 1893) 14–16) likely to be relevant, for all that on p. 123 Robert takes it to have been the story’s original form.
[ back ] 38. If Themis’ advice was given as a sequel to Zeus’ decision, as Kullmann elsewhere seems to allow (see page 18 above), this objection loses its force.
[ back ] 39. A further list of scholars who interpret the passages in this way may be found in Kullmann (1955:181n3); add now Severyns (1965:5–6, cf. 6n19), who himself takes this point of view. The phrase in question would certainly be an inappropriate summary of the events recorded at Iliad XX 4–6 (a list of scholars who interpret it thus in Kullmann as cited: add Hirzel, Themis, Dike und Verwandtes, 3n3; E. Fraenkel, “Graeca-Latina,” Glotta 4 [1913]: 24, etc.), where Themis’ role is far too inconspicuous to be placed on the same level as Zeus’. Nor would the phrase accurately represent the tradition of Themis’ intervention in the rivalry of Zeus and Poseidon for the hand of Thetis (on which see page 37 below).
[ back ] 40. So suggests the sequence of connectives (αὖθις δέ … ἔνιοι δέ … τινὲς δέ). For an attempt to evade the obvious inference see page 39n44 below.
[ back ] 41. This is denied by Stoneman (“Pindar,” 60: “because Thetis refused the hand of the greatest of the gods, she is not obliged to welcome any and every other candidate, and a mere mortal at that, who is offered to her.”). But this fails to take into account the evidence for the union with Peleus as Hera’s reward for Thetis’ abstinence (see page 40 below).
[ back ] 42. “Harm mitigated” is a common theme in folktale: see my article “ ‘Sins of the Fathers’: Omitted Sacrifice and Offended Deities in Greek Literature and Folk-Tale,” Eikasmos 21 (2010): 331.
[ back ] 43. A. Köhnken, “Gods and Descendants of Aeacus in Pindar’s Eighth Isthmian Ode,” Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 22 (1975): 33–34 (= Darstellungsziele und Erzählstrategien in antiken Texten [Berlin 2006] 274n20) thinks the first passage is directly copying the second, and that Pindar himself invented the quarrel between Poseidon and Zeus over Thetis and also Themis’ prophecy. But the features which to him seem “to make extremely difficult the common alternative explanation which assumes an unknown common source for” the two passages are precisely the evidence that other scholars (some [by no means all] listed by M. Griffith, “Aeschylus, Sicily, and Prometheus Bound,” in Dionysiaca [Page Festschrift (Cambridge 1978)] 135n99) use to support that alternative. Pace Köhnken, scholars by and large are not “reluctant to credit Pindar with major inventions.” They are simply sensitive in the present case (as Köhnken is not) to the issues that are raised by a consideration of the various forms of the relevant legend. The notion of a common source is also combatted by Griffith, 118–119, who independently argues for the priority of Pindar. But neither he nor Köhnken meet or even mention the important issues raised by Lesky and Reitzenstein.
[ back ] 44. Stoneman, “Pindar,” 61 prefers to suppose that “Apollodorus gives one complete version,” with the clause introduced by ἔνιοι δέ “as an alternative version of the first element of it” (i.e. the element introduced by αὖθις δέ). On this interpretation, τινές δέ returns to use the “vulgate” of αὖθις δέ. I find this an unnatural reading of the sequence ἔνιοι δέ … τινὲς δέ.
[ back ] 45. As Stoneman, “Pindar,” 60n92 accepts: “It must be a poem because of its pronounced influence on later versions.”
[ back ] 46. One would not gather this from G. W. Mooney’s commentary ad loc., even though it was published twelve years after the appearance of Reitzenstein’s article. Nor did the commentary of Livrea (1973) seem to find any reference to the topic appropriate. R. Hunter’s commentary (Cambridge 2015) on 790–817 does bring in the Cypria, but does not cite Reitzenstein.
[ back ] 47. Not that one should necessarily assume that every feature in Apollonius’ lines has been taken over from the Cypria: Bethe supposes (1929:229) this epic to be the source for the picture of Hera as pronuba in lines 808–809; Lesky (RE 291.6–7) and Robert, Heldensage 2.1.69n5 regard the detail as a characteristically Alexandrian refinement. Likewise, the implication at lines 797–804 that Zeus’ oath was merely intended to stampede Thetis into the liaison is probably Apollonius’ addition (so Reitzenstein, “Die Hochzeit,” 76n1).
[ back ] 48. The similarity is especially striking in view of the hostility which Hera shows towards Thetis elsewhere in the Iliad (especially book I). This discrepancy is observed and convincingly explained in terms of Hera’s constant interest in the overthrow and destruction of Troy by Braswell (“Mythological Innovation”), who, however, believes that the detail of a Thetis reared by Hera is an invention of Homer’s. But this is to ignore the strong and impressive links between Cypria F2 and Apollonius of Rhodes IV 790–797 (which Braswell, 23n4 thinks merely an allusion to Iliad XXIV 58–63). Surely, since the rearing and the gratitude fit so well together within a coherent whole, they will have been found together in the Cypria rather than being a further instance of Apollonius’ contamination of his sources. On the relationship between Iliad XXIV 59–63, Iliad XVIII 431–441, and the Cypria see further Severyns 1965:5n11.
[ back ] 49. The alternative (and incompatible) tradition of Themis’ prophecy does not, therefore, appear in the Iliad, although Homer appears to have known of it: see the motif-transference at Iliad I 403–404; cf. Willcock 1964:144 and n2 = 2001:439–440.
[ back ] 50. For a full list of the literary evidence see Lesky (RE 292.10–22 [with handy bibliography]). Note especially the hint in Hesiod Theogony 1006 (Πηλεῖ δὲ δμηθεῖσα θεὰ Θέτις ἀργυρόπεζα): I cannot see why Lesky (289.22–27) should exclude the possibility of a reference to the Liebesringkampf here while allowing that Hesiod can have known the story.
[ back ] 51. Stoneman (“Pindar,” 60) notes that Σ TV Iliad XVIII 434 (4.520 Erbse) attributes the story of Thetis’ metamorphoses to οἱ νεώτεροι and goes on, “This normally means the Epic Cycle, and the only appropriate poem of the Cycle is the Cypria.” In fact, neither half of this statement is correct. For a bibliography of other scholars who have attributed these metamorphoses to the Cypria see Jouan 1966:73n1, adding Jouan himself (73–74).
[ back ] 52. Quoted by Wagner (1891:172), who believed the wrestling-bout did occur in the Cypria.
[ back ] 53. Probably another instance of motif-transference: see page 81 below.
[ back ] 54. Several of the scholia on the passages here listed preserve Aristarchus’ characteristic conviction that Homer was ignorant of the story that Thetis left Peleus: he took it to be the invention of οἱ νεώτεροι (see especially Severyns 1929:254–256 and Erbse on ΣΤ Iliad XVI 222b [4.217]; cf. Van der Valk 1963:92–93).
[ back ] 55. Athetized, of course, by Aristarchus: see Severyns 1929:254–256 and Erbse on ΣΤ Iliad XVIII 434 (4.520).
[ back ] 56. On the famous fragment of Alcaeus (42 LP) contrasting the careers of Helen and Thetis see Lesky 224 = 407 and my remarks in “Alcaeus fr. 42,” Hermes 114 (1986): 257–262. (The whole tenor of this description as well as the application to Thetis of such epithets as ἅβρος and ἅγνος seems designed to exclude the idea of any Liebesringkampf, so that the contrast may be still further enhanced.) Lesky shows admirable caution in concluding: “Ob der Zug, dass Peleus die Nereide aus dem Hause ihres Vaters holen darf, in die Kyprienfassung gehort oder ein Einfall des Alkaios ist, vermogen wir nicht zu entscheiden.”
[ back ] 57. A similar argument is already in Rzach 1922:2380.34–39.
[ back ] 58. Taken up by later authors (e.g. Pindar Nemean V 41, Aeschylus TrGF 3 F350 Radt [cf. Plato Republic 383Β]). The Muses are also regularly represented as attending the wedding: see Jouan 1966:81–84.
[ back ] 59. τάμε, an ancient variant here, is “an adaptation to the legend in the Cypria,” according to Leaf ad loc.
[ back ] 60. Stigmatized as “a later addition” by Robert, Heldensage 69n5.
[ back ] 61. On the relevant portion of the François Vase (Florence 4202: ABV 16.1= LIMC s.v. “Cheiron” Bc, 2.42) Chiron carries a tree branch with animals hanging from it as emblem of his hunting prowess (cf. Beazley, The Development of Attic Black-Figure2 [Berkeley 1986] 26). In Catullus LXIV 279–281 he brings silvestria dona … flores (see Kroll ad loc.).
[ back ] 62. “κατασκευάσαι … evidently means ‘put on the point’ ”: Leaf on Iliad XVI 141–144. We find the same in Evelyn-White, Loeb text of Hesiod and the Homeric Hymns, p. 497 (“fitted it with a head”), etc. The usage arises out of what LSJ s.v. I.2 classes as “furnish, equip fully.”
[ back ] 63. The Roman sarcophagus (ca. 140 AD) now in the Villa Albani (LIMC s.v. “Peleus” I, 2.204: see E. Simon, “Zum Hochzeitssarkophag mit Peleus und Thetis,” Mitteilungen des Archäologisches Instituts [Römische Abteilung] 60/61 [1953/4]): 211–223 and plates 88–90 and further G. Kock and H. Sichtermann, Römische Sarkophage [Munich 1982] 173 and plate 198) shows Athena and Hephaestus alone of the gods present at the wedding. Athena is bringing Peleus a spear and helmet, and Hephaestus presents a sword and shield.
[ back ] 64. Robert’s views have been attacked by Severyns, not only in “Pomme de discorde et jugement des déesses,” Phoibos V 1950–1951 (= Mélanges Hombert) 156n24 but also in “Un sommaire inédit des chants cypriens,” Annuaire de l’Institut de philologie et d’histoire orientales et slaves 10 (1950) (= Mélanges Gregoire 2) 584n2. His reasons for the attack strike me as slightly misconceived: surely Robert was not interpreting παραγενομένη in Severyns’s way and then berating Proclus (or one of his scribes) for burdening the summary with a Hellenistic interpolation. He took the participle to mean that Eris was present at the feast as a matter of course, i.e. that the Cypria had a totally different version from that of later writers.
[ back ] 65. The verb is similarly used in tragic hypotheses and the like (see D. Kovacs, “On the Alexandros of Euripides,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 88 [1984]: 50n8; Diggle, Euripides Phaethon, p. 77).
[ back ] 66. The attempt to evade trouble merely exacerbates the matter, a familiar motif in folktale.
[ back ] 67. It is sometimes suggested that Eris’ intervention was a direct part of and immediate sequel to F1’s Διὸς βουλή. This is casually assumed by, for instance, Robert (Heldensage 2.1073) and T. C. W. Stinton (1965:8 = 22) and inferred by E. Wüst (s.v. “Paris (1)” RE [1949]: 1495.42–50), from its position in Proclus’ summary straight after Zeus’ deliberations with Themis, and by Rzach (1922:2382.17–22), from the St. Petersburg vase mentioned on page 35 above. A dubious deduction, and even if it could be proved true, that Eris was invited to the wedding would by no means follow.
[ back ] 68. Raab (1972:128n93) well observes that, even if the suggestion attacked in the previous note were correct, Eris’ bringing of her apple to the wedding feast to which she had been invited could not be excluded.
[ back ] 69. “Une conversation … dégénère en dispute parceque chacune se prétend la plus belle”: I confess this reminds me more of a Parisian salon.
[ back ] 70. Attempts to distinguish between an “Erisapfel” and a “Parisapfel” do not strike me as very helpful. So R. Hampe, review of C. Clairmont, Das Parisurteil in Gnomon 26 (1954): 550 and “Das Parisurteil auf dem Elfenbeinkamm aus Sparta,” in Neue Beiträge zur Klassischen Altertums-wissenschaft (B. Schweitzer Festschrift [Stuttgart 1954] 83–84), lays a determined but futile stress on the alleged gap between the two relevant scenes in the Cypria; and Severyns, in the first of the articles cited above (n64), arbitrarily reconstructs an original version where Paris bestows an apple as a σῆμα νίκης, and a later Alexandrian development whereby Eris too gets an apple. And B. K. Brazda (“Zur Bedeutung des Apfels in der antiken Kultur” [diss. Bonn 1977] 58 and 62) also sees Eris’ apple as a “secondary” development which therefore tells us nothing about the original significance of the apple in the Judgment of Paris. But a single apple most naturally and economically links the two stages of the story, simultaneously providing a specific cause of strife and a specific means of resolving it (see further Raab 1972:59). Whatever date we assign to the apple’s entry into the tradition, we should surely allow one and the same fruit to pass from Eris’ hands to Paris’.
[ back ] 71. It received a rather mixed reception from reviewers. Most enthusiastic, perhaps, was J. Boardman, Journal of Hellenic Studies 85 (1965): 241 (“The Dispute of the Goddesses at the Wedding of Peleus is brilliantly recognized on a New York Pontic Vase”; cf. Schefold’s reference to “scharfsinnigen Vermutung” [Götter- und Heldensagen der Griechen in der spätarchaischen Kunst (Munich 1978) 186 = Gods and Heroes in Late Archaic Greek Art 204]). Skeptics include Brommer, Gymnasium 72 (1965): 280 and Banti, Il mondo degli Etruschi (1968) 312–313 = The Etruscan Cities and Their Culture (1973) 247. Hampe–Simon attempt to meet some of these criticisms in “Gefälschte etruskische Vasenbilder?,” Jahrbuch des Römisch-Germanischen Zentral Museums 14 (1967): 83. A notably well-balanced conclusion from R. M. Cook in his notice of Hampe–Simon’s book: Classical Review 15 (1965): 99: “though one may object about some details the interpretation is possible and attractive, but I cannot see any detailed dependence on the Cypria, and the absence of food and drink is rather against it. It is certainly going too far to assert that because there is no apple of Discord in this vase painting, there was none in the Cypria either.”
[ back ] 72. It is quoted, for instance, by A. R. Littlewood (“The Symbolism of the Apple in Greek and Roman Literature,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 72 [1968]: 151n6), who claims that “Foster’s caution is seasonable” even though Littlewood supposes (erroneously as it transpires: see page 53 below) there to be evidence “that this aspect of the story is in fact early, if not widespread” (164–165). For other scholars who deny the apple to the Cypria, see Rzach 1922:2381.58–61. Add Robert, Heldensage 1073; Wagner 1891:172–173 (“Discordiae malum fatale Alexandrinorum poetarum facetiis deberi verisimile”); Wüst, RE 184 (1949): 1495, etc. Wagner’s suggestion that the apple in Apollodorus is a mythographer’s later interpolation is similar to the notion (advanced by Severyns [“Pomme de discorde”], approved by Brazda [“Zur Bedeutung des Apfels,” 157 and 60 respectively]) that in Apollodorus’ phrase μῆλον … περὶ κάλλους Ἔρις ἐμβάλλει the first word is a marginal gloss (introduced with epitomization) that has ousted the original word νεῖκος.
[ back ] 73. Severyns also supplies (164–165) a list of the differing versions of the apple’s inscription as provided by different authors in antiquity. There are at least twelve variant forms and Severyns (“Pomme de discorde,” 161), followed by Brazda (“Zur Bedeutung des Apfels,” 60–61), infers from this multiplicity its inventor to have been some insignificant author who lacked the authority to impose his version. H. Erbse, (“Zur Überlieferung der Erzählung von Erisapfel,” Rheinisches Museum 138 [1995]: 119–128) notes the inscribed apple’s presence in the expanded version of the Cypria summary in Vat. Ottob. Gr. 38, which is possibly by Tzetzes—who may himself have added the detail.
[ back ] 74. Stressed by Brazda (“Zur Bedeutung des Apfels,” 57–58). This part of her argument is stronger than she realizes: see page 9 above.
[ back ] 75. Hampe provides a very useful bibliography and critique of earlier discussions of the comb. See too his remarks in another Festschrift (“Rückkehr eines Jünglings,” in Corolla [Curtius Festschrift (Stuttgart 1937)] 145n10) and Gnomon 26 (1954): 550–551 (in his important review of C. Clairmont’s Das Parisurteil in der antiken Kunst [Zurich 1951], a flawed book—not only in its treatment of the famous apple—that is now superseded by Raab’s work and LIMC).
[ back ] 76. The words are those of A. R. Littlewood (“Symbolism of the Apple,” 151), who was writing over ten years after the publication of Hampe’s work and had no excuse, but was misled by plate CXXVII of Dawkin’s monograph, The Sanctuary of Artemis Orthia (London 1929).
[ back ] 77. Especially Bethe’s (“Parisurteil und Kyprien,” Hermes 66 [1931]: 239–240), and Severyns’ (“Pomme de discorde,” 160).
[ back ] 78. See Raab 1972:49.
[ back ] 79. See page 52n72 above for a list of scholars who subscribe to this view.
[ back ] 80. Note especially the attitude of Hampe, review of C. Clairmont, Das Parisapfel, in Gnomon 26 (1954): 550: “Das Ergebnis ist kurz dies, dass das Apfelmotif beim Parisurteil auf griechischen Darstellung nicht begegnet, sondern zweimal auf etruskischen Spiegeln … dann auf römischen Denkmälern.”
[ back ] 81. Cf. Welcker, Alte Denkmäler 5 (1864): 394–395 and 430 (Nachtrag), respectively.
[ back ] 82. By Welcker, as cited in previous note, 395: “Athene hält mit der Rechten etwas an sich, das wie ein Apfel aussieht. Da aber dieser eher der Aphrodite zukommt, … so ist höchst wahrscheinlich eine kleine Olpe als Zeichen der Palästra zu verstehn, die auch Sophokles [fr. 361] im Parisurteil der Athene gegeben hatte.”
[ back ] 83. On apples as divine attributes see further Brazda, “Zur Bedeutung des Apfels,” 71–77 on Aphrodite; 78 on Athena. For the pomegranate’s connection with our trio of goddesses see F. Muthmann, Der Granatapfel: Symbol des Lebens in der alten Welt (Bern 1982) 39–41. The Berlin alabastron (F2259), which equips Hera with one apple and Aphrodite with two, is clearly an exceptional case. If the fruits here are intended as adornments, that signification does not have to be extended to the other vases mentioned above.
[ back ] 84. Raab seems to oversimplify the issues involved when she makes the evidence for the apple in the Cypria depend upon the interpretation of the odd shape on this earliest of relevant vases (1972:59). The vase may show the apple but not reflect the epic; the vase may not show the apple and the epic may still have contained that detail.
[ back ] 85. For some cautious speculation as to the significance (symbolic or otherwise) of the apple in this story, see Brazda, “Zur Bedeutung des Apfels,” 62–66. That the apple’s role in the Judgment of Paris is effectively sui generis is properly stressed by Raab (1972:60). The useful surveys in Littlewood and Brazda of the apple’s symbolism in antiquity provide only the most partial parallels: numerous mythical apples, the most famous being that in the story of Acontius and Cydippe, bore inscriptions (cf. Littlewood, “Symbolism of the Apple,” 167–168, Brazda 51–53; Robert, Heldensage 1073n6 finds this relevant), but their contents are quite different from our example’s. Again, the use of the apple as a victory prize in games (Littlewood 168–169, Brazda 133), stressed as the likeliest inspiration of our own specimen by Severyns (“Pomme de discorde,” 163) (cf. Clairmont, Das Parisurteil in der antiken Kunst [Zurich 1951] 103–104), has only the slightest resemblance to Paris’ apple (cf. Brazda 133). And Colluthus’ claims (Rape of Helen 59–60) that Eris’ apple came from the garden of the Hesperides (on whose fruit see Littlewood 163–165, Brazda 89–102) is rightly denounced by Brazda (58) as “Mythenklitterung.” The metaphorical idiom ἐμβάλλω νεῖκός τισι (as in Iliad IV 13–14 and 44: cf. LSJ s.v. ἐμβ. II 3) noted by Severyns (156–157) may have played some part in the story’s origin (cf. West 2013:73); but the precise reasons for the invention of a literary detail are difficult to trace. The task is delicate enough when we actually possess the relevant text. In the present case, we may abandon it.
[ back ] 86. Colluthus’ account of the Judgment certainly portrays a Paris who is perfectly well aware of his princely status: “son of Priam” is how Hera addresses him in this poem (139).
[ back ] 87. Various scholars have variously speculated as to the poem’s book-division: see Severyns, Texte et Apparat: Histoire critique d’une tradition imprimée (Brussels 1963) 190–193, West 2013:60.
[ back ] 88. Note also Odyssey xviii 193–194: ἀμβροσιωι, οἵωι περ ἐϋστέφανος Κυθέρεια| χρίεται, εὖτ᾽ ἂν ἴηι Χαρίτων ἱμερόεντα.
[ back ] 89. The explanation of βάπτω in terms of the practice of dipping clothes in perfumed oil (A. Hurst, “L’huile d’Aphrodite,” Ziva Antika/Antiquité Vivante 1 [1976]: 25, cf. R. Janko, Homer, Hesiod and the Hymns [Cambridge 1982] 161) is surely beside the point, although accepted by Faulkner on Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 63.
[ back ] 90. These passages are compared by G. Pasquali, Quaestiones Callimacheae (Göttingen 1913) [= Scritti Filologici 1.208].
[ back ] 91. I do not see how this word, applied in Homer to flowing liquids, can be defended as a reference to the use of perfumed oil on garlands (see page 63n89 above).
[ back ] 92. Welcker (2.512) stresses that Bothe’s emendation was made a long time before its publication.
[ back ] 93. Apparently misunderstood by LSJ s.v. “καλλίχροος, -ον, beautiful-coloured, prob.” in our fragment.
[ back ] 94. Reinhardt’s intuition was partly anticipated by K. Lehrs: see his Populäre Aufsätze aus dem Alter-thum: Vorzugsweise zur Ethik und Religion der Griechen (Leipzig 1875) 10 on the Iliad: “Woher jene Vorliebe der Aphrodite fur die Troer? Woher man durch kann sie begründet denken als eben durch das Urteil des Paris,” etc.
[ back ] 95. For the passage’s use of the word ate, which West finds objectionable see my article of 2003:38.
[ back ] 96. For this motif of mortal panic at divine epiphany see West 2013:78, Nisbet and Hubbard on Horace Odes 2.19.5. Cf. the balanced discussion of this possibility by Raab (1972:24–25; with further biblio-graphy in 106n45).
[ back ] 97. Robert’s derivation of the details in this paean from the Cypria does not entail that our epic men-tioned the exposure of Paris, as Robert himself (Oidipus 2.131–132n22) stresses, in contrast to e.g. Wentzel 1890:xxxiv (who compares Ovid Heroides XVI 121–125 [see pages 8–10 above]) and Jouan 1966:137.
[ back ] 98. It should not be supposed that any relevant evidence is provided by those vase paintings (e.g. a hydria now in Bristol [H 801: = A IV a 1 in Raab’s catalogue]) which equip Paris at the Judgment with royal garb and scepter: this is merely a device on the part of the painter (intended either to stress that Paris is in reality a king’s son: cf. my remarks in “A Convention of Metamorphosis in Greek Art,” Journal of Hellenic Studies 108 [1986]: 182–183) or to look forward to the story’s sequel in the form of his recognition by father and family). See Raab 1972:62, 174. They tell us nothing relevant to the present problem.
[ back ] 99. By no means all his arguments are valid or even worth recording. But Jouan’s antagonism (1966:148n2) to his thesis has no convincing argument to support it.
[ back ] 100. See in particular Wagner 1891:170. For a list of the other scholars inclined to take this view cf. Luppe, “Zeus und Nemesis,” 193 and n1.
[ back ] 101. For Helen in book 3 see L. Edmunds, “Helen in Pseudo-Apollodorus Book 3,”in Apollodoriana, ed. J. Pàmias (Berlin 2017) 82–99.
[ back ] 102. For late versions which have both Zeus and Nemesis in swan’s form, see page 79 below.
[ back ] 103. Compare Severyn’s suggestion concerning μῆλον in Apollodorus’ account of Eris’ intervention at the wedding of Peleus and Thetis (page 52n72 above).
[ back ] 104. We should probably ignore the evidence of Hesiod fr. 24 MW (= Σ Nemean X [3.182 Dr.]) which complicates the issue by cooly announcing ὁ μέντοι Ἡσίοδος οὔτε Λήδας οὔτε Νεμεσέως δίδωσι τὴν Ἑλένην, ἀλλὰ θυγατρὸς Ὤκεανοῦ καὶ Διός. One sympathizes with West’s elegant rewriting (see Merkelbach and West ad loc. [p. 15] and the latter, 1985:123n211): ὁ μέντοι τὰ Κύπρια ποιήσας οὔτε Λήδας οὔτε Τυνδάρεω δίδωσι τὴν Ἑλένην, ἀλλὰ Νεμέσεως θυγατρὸς Ὠκεανοῦ καὶ Διός.
[ back ] 105. For a complex specimen see the long-recognized interpolation within ps.–Eratosthenes Cata-sterismi (Mythographi Graeci 3.1 [p. 30 Olivieri]), which Luppe 202 and nn33–34 interprets as an attempt to forge a link between the Cypria’s version, the more familiar version whereby Zeus visits Leda as a swan, and Hyginus’ version (see n108 below), wherein Nemesis remains human.
[ back ] 106. It is not always completely clear that late authors are envisaging Nemesis as transformed into swan or maintaining human proportions, especially when (as with ps.-Clement Rufin. Recog-nitiones 5.13.7 [p. 98 Rehm-Paschke] and 10.22.7 [p. 342 Rehm-Paschke]) it is the activities of Zeus, not his victim, that are uppermost in the writer’s mind.
[ back ] 107. So e.g. ps.-Clement 5.13.7 as cited in the previous note: Νεμέσει τῆι Θεστίου τῆι καὶ Λήδαι νομισθείσηι κύκνος ἢ χὴν γενόμενος [scil. Ζεύς] Ἑλένην ἐτεκνώσατο.
[ back ] 108. See esp. Hyginus Astronomica 2.8 (pp. 44–45 Bunte).
[ back ] 109. See, for instance, Edgar Wind, Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance2 (London 1968) 165–170.
[ back ] 110. Note the (studiedly?) anonymous nature of Helen’s reference to her “mother” at Iliad III 248.
[ back ] 111. Some scholars have airily attributed this version to Stesichorus, on no grounds whatever (see the commentary of Davies and Finglass, p. 288).
[ back ] 112. B. C. Dietrich, Death, Fate and the Gods (London 1965) 159 is agnostic.
[ back ] 113. The earliest literary reference to the egg laid by Leda would seem to be Euripides Helen 257–259. Kannicht supposes that this feature does not appear until Middle Comedy, and in his note on the passage above follows numerous scholars (though not A. M. Dale in her commentary ad loc.) in discarding the lines as an interpolation. His reasons for so doing seem to me inadequate (cf. T. C. W. Stinton, “ ‘Si credere dignum est’: Some Expressions of Disbelief in Euripides and Others,” Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 22 [1976]: 76–77 = Collected Papers on Greek Tragedy 256, and W. Allen’s commentary ad loc.), in particular his objections to the zoological propriety of Leda’s production of an egg: see page 78 above.
[ back ] 114. Herter’s suggestion (2346.32–36) that the metamorphoses may be inspired by Nemesis’ obscure and late-attested epithets πολύμορφος and multiformis (on which see Herter 2362.66–67, 2363.10–11) is hard to evaluate. These adjectives might have been inspired by the Cypria.
[ back ] 115. There is no evidence that the Cypria located the coupling of Zeus and Nemesis here: see page 92 below.
[ back ] 116. See Herter 2346.40–43 for earlier scholars who took this view. So too L. Ghali-Kahil, Enlèvements et retour d’Hélène dans les textes et les documents figurés (Paris 1955) 1.28n2, and Dietrich, Death, Fate and the Gods, 159, etc.
[ back ] 117. On the notion that Homer’s gods sometimes take the form of birds see Richardson on Homeric Hymn to Demeter 43 (with addenda p. 351) and H. Erbse, “Homerische Götter in Vogelgestalt,” Hermes 108 (1980): 259–279 = Studien zur griechische Dichtung (Stuttgart 2003) 120–135.
[ back ] 118. For Amphion and Zethus as “Doppelgänger” of the Dioscuri see Burkert, Gr. Relig. p. 325 = Engl. transl. p. 212.
[ back ] 119. For a list of some of the scholars who have assumed this see Herter, 2345.47–49 (adding e.g. Cook, Zeus 1.279n4; Farnell, Cults of the Greek States 2.489). For those who suppose the Cypria specified no location see e.g. Jouan 1966:149n2.
[ back ] 120. As Aristarchus was characteristically eager to stress (cf. Severyns 1928:261–266).
[ back ] 121. Female ecstatic seers were sometimes regarded as Apollo’s παλλακαί: see H. D. Jocelyn, The Tragedies of Ennius: The Fragments (Cambridge 2008) 212n1.
[ back ] 122. Taken to derive from the Cypria by Robert, “Zu Pindars VIII Paean,” Hermes 49 (1914): 317, followed by Rzach (1922:2383.51–53).
[ back ] 123. Welcker (2.94) boldly supposed that Nereus’ prophecy to Paris in this ode derived from the Cypria. This should not be thought of as in any way supported by the Pontic vase in Paris (interpreted and illustrated by E. Simon in Hampe-Simon, Griechische Sagen in der frühgrieschische und etruskische Kunst [Mainz 1964] 41–44), which shows in the top region Paris’ arrival in Helen’s presence and in the bottom a fish-tailed sea-deity with a beard who might be Nereus or Proteus. Even Erika Simon, who takes Horace’s possible debt to the Cypria very seriously, concedes that the sea-god might also symbolize (p. 43) the element over which the couple must flee.
[ back ] 124. Ovid Heroides XVI 276 specifies the landing place as Taenarium, which Wentzel (1890:xvii) derives from the Cypria.
[ back ] 125. Derived from the Cypria by Wentzel (1890:xii).
[ back ] 126. Contrast Euripides’ deliberate avoidance of this aspect of Paris’ theft, in order to concentrate interest upon Helen (cf. Jouan 1966:180).
[ back ] 127. On the Leucippides in general see S. Wide, Lakonische Kulte (Leipzig 1893) 326–331; E. Howald, Der Mythos als Dichtung (Zurich 1936) 59–61.
[ back ] 128. It is interesting to note how often Apollo keeps cropping up in connection with the Leucippides or those closely linked with them, even when he is not represented as their father. Thus Apollodorus Bibliotheca III 10.3 tells us that Phoebe and Hilaeira had a further sister, Arsinoe, on whom Apollo begot Asclepius. And we are all familiar with the story that Apollo was worsted in a competition for the affections of Marpessa by Idas, one of the Apharetidae, with whom the Leucippides are so often associated (cf. Snell, “Bakchylides’ Marpessa-Gedicht,” Hermes 80 [1952]: 156–163 = Gesammelte Schriften 105–114 = Pindaros und Bakchylides [Wege der Forschung 134 (1970)] 421–431).
[ back ] 129. Most of the bibliography can be recovered, by consulting Rzach 1922:2387.25–28 and Jouan 1966:182n1. Add Severyns 1928:282–283 (a particularly eloquent exposition). The notion of a post-Herodotean interpolation in the Cypria’s text to achieve the same end of alignment with Homer (cf. Kullmann 1960:205n2) is far less attractive. Cf. Sammons 2017:237.
[ back ] 130. Huxley, “A Problem in the Cypria,” 25–27, and Greek Epic Poetry [London 1969] 134. Note also Lloyd on the Herodotean passage (“the historian has confused two different poems on Paris’ return with Helen”), West 2013:92.
[ back ] 131. On the contaminated account that follows this sentence in Apollodorus see Hartmann, Unter-suchungen, 25.
[ back ] 132. Welcker (2.515) excogitated from Herodotus’ prose the moving line-end πνεύματι τ᾽ εὐαεῖ λειῆι τε θαλάσσηι. Schneidewin (“Zu den Bruchstücke der Homerischen Dichter,” Philologus 4 [1849]: 745) preferred ἀνέμωι εὐάεϊ καλῶι, λ.τ.θ. Further reconstruction in West 2013:92.
[ back ] 133. “It was thought that if the gods had a special reason for wishing it, a journey might be accomplished with uncanny speed” (Lloyd-Jones’ translation and commentary ad loc. [p. 55]).
[ back ] 134. For other apparent allusions to the Cypria in this region of the play see above.
[ back ] 135. “Das einzige Kyklische Epos … welches die Geschichte in extenso darstellen konnte, waren die Kypria,” as Wentzel (1890:xxiii) rightly states. Robert, Homerische Becher (Berlin 1891) 50 suggested a location ἐν παρεκβάσει in connection with the death of Castor. Another possibility would be at the entertainment of Paris by the Dioscuri: cf. Aristotle Rhetoric 2.1397b20–21 εἰ μηδὲ Θησεὺς ἠδίκησεν, οὐδ᾽ Ἀλέξανδρος and compare page 97 above. Van der Valk’s characteristic reluctance to accept that Helen’s abduction and rescue can have featured in the Cypria (1963:350–351) and his insistence that only the Dioscuri’s struggle with the Apharetidae will have been relevant to that poem seem as unjustified as usual.
[ back ] 136. For a bibliography see Gow’s Theocritus vol. 2.383n3 (add Cook, Zeus 2.438–439).
[ back ] 137. On this version’s striking ἀδηφαγία see K. Meuli, Odyssee und Argonautika (Berlin 1921) 20–21 = Gesammelte Schriften 2.607–608.
[ back ] 138. The Leucippides figure as the betrothed of the Apharetidae in Ovid’s Fasti V 693 and Hyginus Fabula 80 also. As Gow says (Theocritus 2.384), “these versions, since they differ a little from Theocritus’, are probably not derived from him.” For details of the differences see page 117 below.
[ back ] 139. Hyginus A stronomica 2.22 states that ‘‘Homer” makes Polydeuces give his brother “dimidiam vitam” and since, strictly speaking, this episode does not occur in Iliad or Odyssey, Severyns (1928:280) supposes Hyginus to have regarded Homer as author of the Cypria (see pages 1–2 above). A lapse of memory or a slightly inaccurate mode of referring to the Odyssean passage just quoted seem likelier explanations.
[ back ] 140. He argues for the story’s origin as a “fifth-century improvement upon the harsh contrast of a mortal Castor with an immortal Polydeuces.”