The Homeric hymns : interpretative essays

T H E HO M E R I C H Y M N S

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The Homeric Hymns Interpretative Essays

Edited by ANDREW FAULKNER

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Great Clarendon Street, Oxford ox2 6dp Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide in Oxford New York Auckland Cape Town Dar es Salaam Hong Kong Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi New Delhi Shanghai Taipei Toronto With offices in Argentina Austria Brazil Chile Czech Republic France Greece Guatemala Hungary Italy Japan Poland Portugal Singapore South Korea Switzerland Thailand Turkey Ukraine Vietnam Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries Published in the United States by Oxford University Press Inc., New York # Oxford University Press 2011 The moral rights of the authors have been asserted Database right Oxford University Press (maker) First published 2011 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this book in any other binding or cover and you must impose the same condition on any acquirer British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Data available Typeset by SPI Publisher Services, Pondicherry, India Printed in Great Britain on acid-free paper by MPG Books Group, Bodmin and King’s Lynn ISBN 978–0–19–958903–6 1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Preface The Homeric Hymns have by no means been ignored in scholarship in the past century, but a collection of interpretative essays, which treats each of the long narrative Hymns individually and also gives attention to the corpus as a whole, is a desideratum (as expressed to me by several colleagues) that has until now never been realized. I decided to pursue this project in earnest during a short sojourn in Lyon, France, in June of 2008, after much stimulating conversation with the participants in a conference on Greek hymns organized by Richard Bouchon, Pascale Brillet-Dubois, and Nadine Le MeurWeissman. This confirmed in my mind the timeliness of the present volume, whose contents reflect a wealth of important scholarship on the Homeric Hymns in the past twenty-five years and give voice to the extremely valuable work currently being undertaken on these poems. I am of course enormously grateful to all of the contributors, who have supported this volume from the time I first wrote to suggest it in the summer of 2008 and generously agreed to write original essays expressly for inclusion here. Throughout the past two years, they have all patiently dealt with my requests and queries, and delivered work to me in a timely fashion despite extremely busy schedules. I have learned a great deal from them all. I owe particular thanks to a number of individuals. Nicholas Richardson, who has taught me an incalculable amount about the Hymns (and much else as well) since I went to Oxford in 2001 to begin my doctoral studies under his supervision, kindly read my introduction and essay on reception and offered many valuable comments and criticisms. William Furley and Oliver Thomas also read my essay with care and offered insightful suggestions for improvement. Athanassios Vergados, Cecelia Nobili, and Ivana Petrovic kindly shared with me work either forthcoming or in progress. Megan Campbell gave me useful feedback on aspects of the introduction and Andrea Barrales-Hall efficiently double-checked references. I am indebted to Joy Mellor, whose keen eye as a copyeditor saved me from a number of errors. I would also like to thank my colleagues at the University of Waterloo for their indefatigable encouragement; of these, Craig Hardiman kindly advised me on several matters of art history. As ever, I am grateful for the support

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and patience of my wife Kate Timmers, who deserves a laudatory hymn of her own. Finally, I would like to thank the Delegates of Oxford University Press for undertaking to publish this book and all those at the Press who have helped to see it to completion, in particular Hilary O’Shea, Dorothy McCarthy, Jenny Wagstaffe, Emma Barber, and Kathleen Fearn; the anonymous referees for the Press also offered much helpful advice and encouragement. The illustrations of the Exekias Cup and François Vase are reproduced by permission of the Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek in Munich and Nimatallah / Art Resource in New York respectively; I am indebted in particular to Dr Annette Hojer, Ms Irene Bösel, Dr Gerhard Gruitrooy, and Ms Tricia Smith for their help. The contributions of Dominique Jaillard (Ch. 7) and Claude Calame (Ch. 14) were translated by me from the original French in which they were submitted. The authors have confirmed the accuracy of the translations, but any deficiencies in the English style of these chapters must be attributed to me. A.F. Waterloo, Canada June 2010

Contents List of Illustrations Notes on Contributors List of Abbreviations

ix xi xiii

1. Introduction. Modern Scholarship on the Homeric Hymns: Foundational Issues Andrew Faulkner

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PART I 2. The First Homeric Hymn to Dionysus Martin West 3. The Homeric Hymn to Demeter: Some Central Questions Revisited Nicholas Richardson

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4. The Homeric Hymn to Apollo: The Question of Unity Mike Chappell

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5. The Homeric Hymn to Hermes: Humour and Epiphany Athanassios Vergados

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6. An Erotic Aristeia: The Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite and its Relation to the Iliadic Tradition Pascale Brillet-Dubois

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7. The Seventh Homeric Hymn to Dionysus: An Epiphanic Sketch Dominique Jaillard

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8. The Homeric Hymn to Pan Oliver Thomas

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PART II 9. The Collection of Homeric Hymns: From the Seventh to the Third Centuries bc Andrew Faulkner

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10. Homeric and Un-Homeric Hexameter Hymns: A Question of Type William D. Furley 11. The Homeric Hymns as Genre Jenny Clay

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12. Children of Zeus in the Homeric Hymns: Generational Succession Nancy Felson

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13. The Earliest Phases in the Reception of the Homeric Hymns Gregory Nagy

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14. The Homeric Hymns as Poetic Offerings: Musical and Ritual Relationships with the Gods Claude Calame

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Works Cited Index Locorum General Index

359 383 397

List of Illustrations Fig. 1. François Vase, by Kleitias. By Permission of Nimatallah/Art Resource, New York Fig. 2. Dionysus Cup, by Exekias. By Permission of Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek München

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Notes on Contributors Pascale Brillet-Dubois is Maître de conférences in Greek language and literature at the Université Lumière Lyon 2, France. Claude Calame is Professor of Greek at the Université de Lausanne and Directeur d’études at the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales in Paris, France. Mike Chappell is Lecturer in the Open University in London, England. Jenny Clay is William R. Kenan, Jr., Professor of Classics at the University of Virginia, USA. Andrew Faulkner is Associate Professor of Classics at the University of Waterloo, Canada. Nancy Felson is Emerita Professor of Classics at the University of Georgia, USA. William Furley is Apl. Professor in the Seminar für Klassische Philologie, Universität Heidelberg, Germany and Senior Research Fellow, Institute of Classical Studies, London, England. Dominique Jaillard is Maître d’enseignement et de recherche at the Université de Lausanne, Switzerland. Gregory Nagy is Francis Jones Professor of Classical Greek Literature and Professor of Comparative Literature at Harvard University and Director of the Harvard Center for Hellenic Studies, Washington, USA. Nicholas Richardson is Emeritus Fellow of Merton College, Oxford and former Warden of Greyfriars, Oxford, England. Oliver Thomas is Christopher Tower Junior Research Fellow in Greek Mythology at Christ Church, Oxford, England.

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Athanassios Vergados is Lecturer at the University of Athens, Greece. Martin West is Emeritus Fellow of All Souls College, Oxford, England.

List of Abbreviations ABV

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

AHS

T. W. Allen, W. R. Halliday, and E. E. Sikes, The Homeric Hymns (Oxford, 1936).

Allen

Homeri Opera 5, ed. T. W. Allen (Oxford, 1912).

AS

T. W. Allen and E. E. Sikes, The Homeric Hymns (Oxford, 1904).

Bernabé

Poetae Epici Graeci, ed. A. Bernabé (2nd edn.; Leipzig, 1996– 2007).

CA

Collectanea Alexandrina, ed. J. U. Powell (Oxford, 1925).

Campbell

D. A. Campbell, Greek Lyric III: Stesichorus, Ibycus, Simonides, and Others (Loeb Edition, Cambridge, Mass., 1991).

Càssola

F. Càssola, Inni omerici (Milan, 1975).

DELG

P. Chantraine, Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque: histoire des mots, revised edition (J. Taillardat, O. Masson, and J.-L. Perpillou, eds.), with a supplement ‘Chronique d’étymologie grecque 1–10’ by A. Blanc, Ch. de Lamberterie, and Jean-Louis Perpillou (Paris, 2009).

DK

Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, ed. H. Diels and W. Kranz (6th edn.; Berlin, 1952).

Dr

Scholia in Pindarum, ed. A. B. Drachmann, 3 vols. (Lepizig, 1903–27).

E.-K.

Posidonius: the Fragments, ed. L. Edelstein and I. G. Kidd, vol. 1 (2nd edn.; Cambridge, 1989).

Erbse

H. Erbse, Untersuchungen zu den attizistischen Lexika (Berlin, 1950).

Farnell

L. R. Farnell, Cults of the Greek States, 5 vols. (Oxford, 1896–1909).

FGrH

Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker, ed. F. Jacoby (Berlin/ Leiden, 1923–58).

Foerster

Libanii Opera, ed. R. Foerster, 12 vols. (Leipzig, 1903–27).

IEG

Iambi et Elegi Graeci (ed. altera), ed. M. L. West, 2 vols. (Oxford, 1989–92).

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List of Abbreviations 2

IG II

Inscriptiones Graecae: Inscriptiones Atticae Euclidis anno posteriores (2nd edn.; Berlin, 1913–40).

Keil

Aelii Aristidis Smyrnaei quae supersunt omnia, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1898).

LfgrE

Lexikon des frühgriechischen Epos, ed. B. Snell et al. (Göttingen, 1955–2010).

LIMC

Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae, 8 vols. (Zurich and Munich, 1981–99).

Lobel-Page

Poetarum Lesbiorum Fragmenta, ed. E. Lobel and D. L. Page (Oxford, 1955).

LSJ

H. G. Liddell, R. Scott, H. Stuart Jones, R. McKenzie, and P. G. W. Glare, Greek–English Lexicon, with a Revised Supplement (9th edn.; Oxford, 1996).

M–W

Fragmenta Hesiodea, ed. R. Merkelbach and M. L. West (Oxford, 1967).

OC

A. Heubeck, S. West, A. Hoekstra, J. B. Hainsworth, J. Russo, and M. Fernández-Galiano, A Commentary on Homer’s Odyssey, 3 vols. (Oxford, 1988–92).

OLD

Oxford Latin Dictionary, ed. P. G. W. Glare (Oxford, 1982).

PCG

Poetae Comici Graeci, ed. R. Kassel and C. Austin (Berlin, 1983– ).

Pertusi

Scholia Vetera in Hesiodi Opera et Dies, ed. A. Pertusi (Milan, 1955).

Pf.

Callimachus, ed. R. Pfeiffer (Oxford, 1949–53).

PMG

Poetae Melici Graeci, ed. D. L. Page (Oxford, 1962).

PW

H. W. Parke and D. E. W. Wormell, The Delphic Oracle, 2 vols. (Oxford, 1956).

Rose

Aristotelis qui ferebantur librorum fragmenta, ed. V. Rose (3rd edn.; Leipzig, 1886).

Schober

A. Schober, ‘Philodemi De Pietate pars prior’ (CronErc 18: 67–125. 1988).

SEG

Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum, ed. J. J. E. Hondius et al. (Leiden, 1923–75; Amsterdam, 1978–2006; Leiden, 2007–).

Semitelos

—Øæı åºØÆ —Æ ØÆŒ, ed. D. Semitelos (Athens, 1875).

SH

Supplementum Hellenisticum, ed. H. Lloyd-Jones and P. Parsons (Berlin, 1983).

SLG

Supplementum Lyricis Graecis, ed. D. Page (Oxford, 1974).

List of Abbreviations

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SM

Bacchylidis Carmina cum Fragmentis, ed. B. Snell and H. Maehler (Leipzig, 1992).

SnM

Pindari Carmina cum Fragmentis, ed. B. Snell and H. Maehler (Leipzig, 1987–9).

TrGF

Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, Göttingen, ed. B. Snell, R. Kanicht, and S. Radt, 5 vols. (Göttingen, 1971–2004).

Vian

F. Vian and E. Delage, Apollonios de Rhodes, 3 vols. (Paris, 1974–96).

West

M. L. West, Greek Epic Fragments (Loeb Edition, Cambridge, Mass., 2003).

WL

M. L. West, The Homeric Hymns, Homeric Apocrypha, Lives of Homer (Loeb Edition, Cambridge, Mass., 2003).

Abbreviations of ancient authors and their works are for the most part those of LSJ and OLD. The Homeric Hymns are abbreviated as Dionysus (1), Demeter (2), Apollo (3), Hermes (4), Aphrodite (5), and then Hymn(s) with numbers 6–33; or Dion., Dem., Apoll., Herm., Aphr., and then Hy(s). Journal titles are abbreviated as in L’Année philologique. The spelling of ancient Greek names does not follow one system; where common Latinate forms exist, these have been used, but transliterated Greek forms are also employed in many instances. The choice between bc/ad and bce/ce varies according to preference of the individual author.

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1 Introduction Modern Scholarship on the Homeric Hymns: Foundational Issues Andrew Faulkner

1. BEGINNINGS TO THE EARLY TWENTIETH CENTURY The Homeric Hymns are a collection of thirty-three hexameter hymns, in antiquity often attributed to Homer but in fact of varied authorship, provenance, and date.1 Many of the poems are short celebrations of a god’s or goddess’s powers and attributes, ranging from three to twenty-two lines, but a few (2–5, 7, 19) contain extended narrative sections that recount the birth of a deity or an important event in his or her life and stretch from forty-nine (19, to Pan) to almost six hundred lines (4, to Hermes) in length. Modern scholarship on the Hymns has its origins in the fifteenth century, when in 1488 Demetrius Chalcondyles published the first printed edition of the Hymns in Florence along with the Iliad and Odyssey. In establishing his text, Chalcondyles compared manuscript readings critically and often demonstrated admirable editorial skill.2 This 1

For more on the formation of the collection, see in this volume Faulkner (pp. 175–81). 2 This edition seems to have been based upon a manuscript of the f family (probably D), with use made also of a manuscript of the x family (possibly L) as well as one of the p family. Chalcondyles also appears to have introduced a number of his own conjectures. See further Allen (1895a), 154–60, Càssola 612–13.

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edition included what are now numbered Hymns 3–33 in the collection, incorporating the long narrative poems to Apollo (3), Hermes (4), and Aphrodite (5). Subsequent scholars gave critical attention to the language of this corpus in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, the most significant study being that of the French scholar Bernard Martin.3 The next major advance, however, in the study of the Hymns came in the eighteenth century. The British scholar Joshua Barnes published an edition of the Hymns in 1711, but the most important step forward came in the second half of the century when the Dutch scholar David Ruhnken turned his critical attention to the texts and undertook a systematic comparison of manuscript readings.4 A significant stimulus for Ruhnken’s work on the Hymns came in the late eighteenth century with the uncovering of the famous manuscript M in Moscow in 1777 by C. F. Matthaei, who subsequently sold the codex to Leiden. This manuscript, whose first thirty folia are missing, contains at its outset the final twelve lines of what is now known as the first Hymn to Dionysus, another Hymn that originally contained an extended narrative in its middle section, and a largely intact text of the second long Hymn to Demeter, which is followed by Hymns 3–28. 4.5 Apart from a few more recent papyrus finds and ancient testimonia, M remains the sole surviving witness of the first two Hymns.6 Following the rediscovery of these poems, there was a flourish of scholarship on the Hymns at the turn of the nineteenth century, as complete editions together with critical commentaries appeared in quick succession.7 Apart from matters of textual criticism and language, studies of this period gave attention to broader questions such as the authorship and performance of the Hymns, as well as the structure and unity of the longer narrative poems, and many of these early views have remained influential to the present day.

3 Martin (1605). For more extensive surveys of early modern editions and philological work on the Hymns before the twentieth century, see AHS cx–cxv, Càssola 612–23. The first Latin translation of the Hymns was produced by Georgius Dartona in the sixteenth century. 4 Barnes (1711), Ruhnken (1782). The latter compared manuscripts B, C, and M; see Càssola 619. 5 On the M manuscript, see Gelzer (1994). 6 On the text of Dion. see West (2001a), and Ch. 2 in this volume. P. Oxy. 2379 and P. Berol. 13044 contain fragments of Dem.; see Richardson (1974), 66–7. 7 Note in particular Ilgen (1796), Matthiae (1805), Hermann (1806), Wolf (1807).

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F. A. Wolf ’s arguments, for example, on the proemial function of the Hymns are still widely accepted,8 while Ruhnken’s suggestion that the Hymn to Apollo might be composed of originally separate parts paved the way for separatist views of that poem, which became dominant in the nineteenth century in accordance with the broader popularity at that time of analytical readings of Homer.9 The nineteenth century saw a great deal more work completed on the manuscript tradition of the Hymns and the establishment of the text. Subsequent to an important edition of the corpus by A. Baumeister in 1860, which took into account manuscripts of the ¨ family for the first time since Chalcondyles in the fifteenth century, there appeared in 1886 editions of the Hymns by both E. Abel and A. Gemoll, who considered readings of a number of new manuscripts of the p family, as well as a study of the manuscript transmission by H. Hollander.10 Then at the end of the century, following his editorial role in the posthumous publication of A. Goodwin’s Oxford edition, T. W. Allen published a series of important articles on the text of the Hymns, work which would lead to the publication of his Oxford edition with commentary together with E. J. Sikes in the first years of the twentieth century.11 This work, which was substantially revised in 1936 with the collaboration of W. R. Halliday, as well as Allen’s Oxford Classical Text, provided the foundation for much of twentieth-century scholarship on the Hymns and met no equal until the edition and commentary of Càssola in 1975.12

2. ORAL POETICS Starting in the early twentieth century, the study of Homeric poetry began to undergo a transformation due to an increased appreciation of the role played by oral composition in the development of early 8

See below pp. 17–19. On the still debated question of Apoll.’s unity, see Chappell in this volume (Ch. 4). 10 Baumeister (1860), Gemoll (1886), Abel (1886), Hollander (1886). 11 Goodwin (1893), Allen (1895a, b; 1897a, b; 1898), AS (1904). Allen was also largely responsible for the text of the Hymns in Monro (1896). 12 Allen (1912), AHS (1936), Càssola. Also of note is the Budé edition of Humbert (1936). 9

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Greek hexameter poetry. As is well known to anyone who has worked on Homer, this critical shift was inspired largely by the work of Milman Parry in the 1920s and 1930s, who demonstrated the formulaic, traditionally oral quality of Homeric poetry on the levels of both versification and theme.13 The formulaic nature of early hexameter poetry was for Parry a sign not just of development from an oral tradition, but of oral composition in performance by Homer, a fact which he and Albert Lord sought to demonstrate through their groundbreaking comparisons with South Slavic epic and other oral poetic traditions.14 This view naturally had implications also for the Homeric Hymns. Parry himself was aware of the comparative evidence of the Hymns and the Epic Cycle for the formularism of the Homeric epics, but did not make extensive use of them for the reason that ‘these poems and hymns belong to different periods and clearly do not all follow the tradition with equal fidelity.’15 Others, however, have subsequently argued that some of the Homeric Hymns are oral compositions because of their employment of formular language and style.16 This is possible, but the view that the Hymns are entirely oral compositions has not gone unchallenged.17 In a first instance, it is ultimately impossible to prove from their language that the Hymns, in much the same form as we have received them, were entirely oral compositions: poets who made use of writing might well have imitated traditional formulaic diction, such that the quantity and quality of formulae in a given composition are no sure indicator of oral composition, only congruity with oral composition.18 This is true even of the Homeric epics themselves, which, although clearly the product of a poet or poets steeped in the tradition of oral composition and performance, will have reached the fixed form in which we have them through the process of being written down.19 One theory is 13 His writings are collected in Parry (1971). For a more detailed overview of scholarship on Homer and oral poetics, see Foley (1997). 14 See in particular Lord (1960). 15 Parry (1971), 4. 16 See e.g. Notopoulos (1962), Preziosi (1966), Pavese (1972); cf. Postlethwaite (1979). 17 Kirk (1966) rejected Notopoulos’ method for determining orality in the Hymns on the grounds that quantity of formulae is not in itself a sign of orality. Kirk’s more subjective analysis is in turn rejected by Lord (1968). 18 See Janko (1982), 18–19, 40–1; cf. Richardson (1974), 31, Clay (1997), 491–2. 19 See West (2001b), 3–4. For a defence of the intermediate position that the Homeric epics are ‘oral-derived traditional texts’, see Foley (1997), 163–4.

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that the poems are oral dictated texts recorded by a scribe during oral performance,20 but the poet or poets of the Homeric epics might alternatively have taken a more active role in the writing of the poems over an extended period of years, a process involving changes to the written text as it evolved.21 Scholars since the time of Parry have also recognized that it is reductive to distinguish sharply between oral and literate composition, when various intermediate stages between a creative oral tradition and literate composition can be imagined.22 Literate and oral traditions can coexist,23 but one must assume that writing a poem down will inherently promote its fixity, while continued creative oral composition will further its multiformity. The demonstrable uniformity of a poem in contrast to its multiformity, the latter a sign of continued creative oral composition, therefore has wide implications for how one treats its transmission at different points in antiquity. In the case of the Homeric epics, opinions continue to differ concerning the extent to which genuinely creative oral composition persisted in effecting distinctly variant forms of the Iliad and Odyssey. On the one hand, it is maintained that a gradual process of fixing the Homeric epics continued down to the second century BC, until which point oral performance produced multiforms of the Iliad and Odyssey, which are reflected in the variants of the textual tradition.24 On the other hand, it is argued that the Homeric epics seem to have been largely fixed by the end of the seventh century BC, or at latest the mid-sixth century BC: in comparison to oral epics of other cultures such as the Chanson de Roland, whose manuscript tradition preserves alternate versions that vary by thousands of lines, the evidence for variation in the tradition of the Iliad and Odyssey is minimal, for the most part restricted to occasional additional lines and small verbal changes of little narrative import.25 On this view, the continuous tradition of oral performance of Homer in the Classical

20

See Janko (1998); as he points out (7), this would not preclude premeditation. See West (2000), contra the theory of oral dictated texts. 22 See Richardson (1974), 337–8, Janko (1982), 41, Foley (1997), 162–4. Lord (1995), 212–37 himself later accepted an overlap between written and oral compositions. 23 See e.g. Thomas (1992). 24 See Nagy (1996a), esp. 107–206, with earlier bibliography. He posits five successive stages, ‘showing progressively less fluidity and more rigidity’ (109–10). 25 See Finkelberg (2000), who provides an excellent overview of this debate with earlier bibliography. On the Doloneia as the one major interpolation in the Iliad, albeit part of the poem by the end of the seventh century BC, see West (2001b), 10–11. 21

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and Hellenistic periods still produced minor oral variants, as are visible in the manuscript tradition, but aimed at reproduction of the fixed poems rather than creative oral composition.26 The date at which one considers the Homeric epics to have been in essence fixed naturally affects how one treats the Homeric Hymns and other archaic hexameter poetry. Some, for example, insist that it is not possible to speak of direct imitation of the Homeric epics in the Hymns.27 One must certainly be cautious not to assume direct imitation at every turn, but if the Homeric epics were fixed by the seventh century BC or earlier and many of the Hymns as we have them seem to date to a period later than this, direct imitation of a fixed poem is a distinct possibility with which one must reckon. As for the fixity of the Homeric Hymns themselves, approaches continue to diverge along similar lines. One might not expect the Hymns to have been as readily fixed as the Homeric epics. It has been shown, for example, that the tradition of the Cypria, a poem of the Epic Cycle which deals with the beginning of the Trojan War, displays greater multiformity than the Homeric epics,28 a reminder that the Iliad and Odyssey held a special place in the tradition. Earlier versions of hexameter hymns similar to our Hymns are perhaps reflected in the corpus of hymns by the Lesbian poet Alcaeus at the turn of the sixth century BC,29 and Neoanalysis can potentially identify the interaction of the narratives recounted in the Hymns with the Homeric epics at earlier stages of the oral tradition.30 At the same time, there is evidence that several of the longer Hymns became fixed by relatively early dates, and it seems reasonable to consider the possibility of direct imitation of the Hymns as fixed poems, even amongst the Hymns themselves, from the seventh century onward.31 Another important consideration in the case of the Hymns is that they cannot 26

See Pelliccia (2003). See recently the review of my commentary on Aphr. by Bartol (2010), 289–90: ‘his thinking of these poetic products in terms of interrelations between fixed texts is very difficult to sustain with reference to oral culture’. 28 See Finkelberg (2000), 6–11. 29 See West (2002a), 216–17, and in this volume (pp. 39–40); cf. Faulkner (pp. 200–1). 30 See in this volume Brillet-Dubois (Ch. 6). West (Ch. 2) argues for the influence of Dion. itself on Homer, dating the Hymn possibly to 650 BC. 31 For two different, but not mutually exclusive, approaches to the reception and transmission of the Hymns, which give different emphasis to their fluidity in the sixth and fifth centuries, see in this volume Faulkner (Ch. 9) and Nagy (Ch. 13). 27

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be treated as a unified body. As will be considered in the next section, their use of traditional epic language is not consistent, and it is clear that some of the poems in the collection date to the fifth century BC or later.

3. DATING AND LANGUAGE The Homeric Hymns have often been assumed to be later compositions than both the Iliad and Odyssey and the Hesiodic Theogony and Works and Days. In many instances, this is clearly the case, but one must nonetheless be cautious not to assume a priori that the Hymns are post-Homeric and/or post-Hesiodic. Despite some internal markers that help to establish the dates of the poems, a chief method for determining the relative dates of the Hymns has been linguistic comparison. Several important investigations of the Hymns’ language undertaken in the past fifty years have in this way attempted to date the poems in relation to other early hexameter poetry. The modification of traditional formulae in the Hymns was notably linked to established linguistic developments by Hoekstra, who demonstrated on these grounds that the language of Demeter, Apollo, and Aphrodite is at a more advanced stage of the formulaic epic tradition than the Iliad and Odyssey, a sign for him also of the poems’ chronological relationship.32 But the most detailed and inclusive study of language is that of Janko,33 who provides a thorough statistical analysis of a wide range of linguistic criteria, including the use of digamma and nu-mobile, as well as a number of alternative older and younger morphs (such as the older o-stem genitive -Ø in comparison to the more advanced contracted form -ı) in the Homeric epics, the Hesiodic corpus, and the Hymns; his statistical results are combined with careful evaluation of parallel passages, instances of modification, and other evidence for dating in each of the long Hymns. Just as for Hoekstra, his findings place all of the long Hymns later than the 32 Hoekstra (1969), who excludes Herm. His very useful study was unfortunately accompanied by the view that increased modification of formulae indicated inferiority. 33 Janko (1982), who provides (7–16) an excellent review of earlier linguistic studies and attempts at dating. This remains a widely consulted and indispensable tool for the study of the Hymns.

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Homeric epics, which he dates to the second half of the eighth century. Also, with the exception of Aphrodite and the Delian section of Apollo, which he cautiously suggests are contemporary with Hesiod in the first half of the seventh century, Janko dates the long Hymns later than the Theogony and Works and Days. Not everyone, however, has agreed that linguistic criteria are an accurate means of dating early hexameter poetry. Prior to Janko, the supposed oral composition of the Hymns led Notopoulos to reject comparison of linguistic criteria altogether as a tool for dating.34 Few will agree with excluding linguistic criteria as a means of dating to the extent that he proposes, but some of his cautions against such an approach are nonetheless salutary and reflected in later scholarship. Pavese subsequently argued that differences in language can be explained by geographical and stylistic variation rather than chronological disparity, as part of his contention that there existed distinct mainland and Ionic traditions of early Greek poetry.35 Janko, whose study in part responds to Pavese, is well aware of the possibility that geographical and stylistic factors may have played a role. He considers regional variation while refuting Pavese’s more extreme divisions, but argues strongly that linguistic criteria are determinants of date. Yet, more recently, arguments have again been made against the chronological significance of linguistic criteria: ‘the major determinant of the quantity of younger forms in a given poet is the extent to which his language diverges from the formulaic, and this depends on many other factors apart from his date.’36 In the end, it is impossible to draw firm conclusions on this issue, but one might reasonably accept linguistic criteria as a valuable tool for evaluating the Hymns’ place in the tradition, without assuming that they provide absolute indicators of relative date. Below is a brief survey of the evidence for dating the individual long Hymns, as well as some of the mid-length and shorter Hymns in the collection for which it is possible to say something about date. When considering the relative dating of the Hymns, one must keep in mind that the dates given to Homer and Hesiod are themselves uncertain. The Homeric epics have traditionally been dated to the 34

Notopoulos (1962), 362–5. Pavese (1972), 111–65. 36 West (1995), 204–5, who, contra Janko, places Hesiod before Homer; see next paragraph. 35

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second half of the eighth century, prior to Hesiod. In the Works and Days, Hesiod claims to have taken part in the funeral games of Amphidamas, where he may have performed the Theogony,37 and Amphidamas is said by later sources to have been killed in the Lelantine war. The date of this war is uncertain but it will have taken place sometime in the late eighth or early seventh centuries; this, combined with possible cases of imitatio of Hesiod by early lyric poets, dates Hesiod at a lower extreme to the first half of the seventh century.38 As regards Homer, West has alternatively maintained in recent years that the Iliad and Odyssey post-date Hesiod and therefore belong to the middle to second half of the seventh century.39 In making this claim, he refutes earlier attempts to show that Hesiod imitates passages in Homer, and rejects the conclusions of Janko’s comparative linguistic studies. This would push down the dates of several Hymns. However, it remains uncertain whether Homer should in fact be dated later than Hesiod and one must remain open to the possibility of an eighth century date for the Iliad and Odyssey.40 In turning to the dates of the Hymns, it should be emphasized from the outset that there is very little certainty in these matters, as is indicated by the variety of views presented below:

First Hymn to Dionysus The fragmentary nature of this poem, which will originally have extended to over 400 lines,41 makes dating particularly challenging. Comparison of linguistic criteria is invalidated by the paucity of data. However, it may possibly be one of the oldest Hymns in the collection. Based upon fragments A and D, Allen, Halliday, and Sikes remarked that, ‘[t]here is nothing either mythological or linguistic in the fragments of this hymn which suggests a late period.’ With the addition of fragment C (P. Oxy. 670), which recounts Hera’s binding by Hephaestus, West suggests in this volume that, while the myth 37

Op. 654–9. See West (1966), 44–5. See Janko (1982), 94–8, 228–31. 39 See in particular West (1966), 40–8, (1995), and (2003), 12 n. 56, for a list of other scholars in agreement with a seventh-century date. 40 For a recent defence of an eighth-century date for Homer, see Lane Fox (2008), 381–4. 41 See West (2001a), 1. 38

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could have existed earlier than our poem, the Hymn may itself have influenced the Iliad and therefore go back to 650 BC or earlier.42 Two points of vocabulary in fragment C (P. Oxy. 670) are otherwise not attested before the fourth century,43 although this is by no means a certain indication of a late date. Dihle, however, has argued that both it and the other fragments of the poem are Hellenistic.44

Hymn to Demeter This Hymn is in character the most Hesiodic of the corpus. It is probable that the poem draws directly upon the Theogony, as well as the Homeric epics.45 A terminus post quem also seems to be established by the Hymn to Aphrodite, with which the poem shares a number of parallels that together point to a direct relationship; the balance of the evidence suggesting that Demeter is secondary.46 If it is accepted that Demeter was influenced by these poems, the Hymn at the earliest belongs to the latter half of the seventh century. On the other end, a terminus ante quem of the mid-sixth century, the time when Athens took control of, or at least renewed interest in, the Mysteries at Eleusis, has reasonably been suggested on the grounds that Demeter does not mention Athens or show an interest in mythology that from this time onward became prominent in Attica.47 Not everyone agrees that this is a reliable criterion,48 but a date in the late seventh or early sixth century will not be far wrong.

42

See in this volume West (Ch. 2). See Faulkner (2010a). It is possible that P. Oxy. 670 is late and should not be assigned to Dion., even if the Hymn preserved in the Leiden manuscript was early and originally recounted the story of Hera’s binding. 44 Dihle (2002). 45 See Richardson (1974), 30–41, Janko (1982), 181–3. 46 See Richardson (1974), 42–3, Janko (1982), 163–5, Faulkner (2008), 38–40. 47 See Richardson (1974), 5–11. This assumes that the poem was composed for performance in Eleusis. 48 Clinton (1986) has argued that the lack of reference to Athens in the poem is an indication that the poet was not from Attica and unfamiliar with Eleusis; for criticism of this position, see Richardson in this volume (pp. 51–2). Foley (1994), 169–78, on the other hand suggests that the Panhellenic nature of the Hymn explains the poem’s silence concerning Athens. Neither of these, however, argues for a late date. 43

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Hymn to Apollo The dating of this poem is particularly contentious. The two sections of the Hymn, the Delian (1–181) and the Pythian (182–546), have often been considered originally separate compositions,49 and therefore given different dates. A majority has taken the Delian section to be older, and Janko argues on the basis of his linguistic analysis that this section should have a date roughly contemporary with Hesiod.50 Alternatively, West has maintained that the Pythian section is earlier and that the Delian part was modelled upon it in the sixth century.51 The Pythian section has been dated by some to the 580s BC because of Apollo’s prophecy in lines 540–3 that his priests will be ruled by others if they do not behave. This could refer post eventum to the First Sacred War (c.595–585 BC), which gave control of the Delphic oracle to the Amphictyonic league.52 Amongst the arguments for the Hymn’s original disunity is also a theory for its eventual unification in the second half of the sixth century. A scholium to Pindar’s second Nemean informs us that a Chian poet Cynaethus composed the Hymn to Apollo, and it has been suggested that this Cynaethus may be responsible for the combined Hymn, which he performed in 523/2 BC at the festival of Delian and Pythian Apollo celebrated on Delos by the Samian tyrant Polycrates.53 However, against a date in the late sixth century may be the fact that Thucydides (3. 104) speaks of the Delian section of the Hymn as unique evidence for poetic contests at the festival in the distant past, which were discontinued in his own time; but he has detailed knowledge of Peisistratus’ purification of Delos and Polycrates’ dedication of Rheneia to Delian Apollo, which could suggest that the discontinuation of poetic contests came earlier.54 49 Against Apollo’s original unity, see Chappell in this volume (Ch. 4). For arguments in favour of unity, see the next paragraph. 50 Janko (1982), 99–115. 51 West (1975), WL 10–12. 52 See Janko (1982), 119–21, 127–8, Richardson (2010), 13–15. 53 For more on this view, see in this volume esp. Chappell (pp. 71–3), Nagy (pp. 288–91), with bibliography. Some suggest that Cynaethus combined existing hymns, but West (WL 9–12) has argued that Cynaethus actually wrote the Delian hymn and then combined it with the Pythian hymn for Polycrates’ festival. He proposes that Cynaethus added the Hera–Typhaon section to the earlier Pythian hymn to please Polycrates, as Hera was an important deity on Samos. 54 See Richardson (2010), 14, also on the lack of any mention of the Pythia in the poem.

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It must also be emphasized that not all scholars agree that the Hymn is composed of two originally separate parts. Both Miller and Clay have argued for the Hymn’s original unity on the grounds of thematic coherence, and Clay’s arguments convinced Janko to change his mind and adopt a unitarian position in his review of her book.55 Clay also argues against the view that Apollo’s prophecy at 540–3 should be linked to the First Sacred War; in this case, the unified Hymn could go back to the first half of the seventh century, following Janko’s original dating of the Delian section.56 However, the Hymn’s description of the construction of Apollo’s magnificent stone temple at Delphi (285–99) might suggest a date after 650 BC, given that our current evidence suggests that the first stone temple at Delphi belonged to the second half of the seventh century.57 If one were alternatively to accept both unity and the link to the First Sacred War, the whole Hymn would date to the 580s. In the end, one can date Apollo with reasonable confidence between the first half of the seventh and the second half of the sixth century, but it is difficult to be more precise with any certainty. A date in the early to middle sixth century BC seems attractive; it may be noteworthy that knowledge of the myth recounted in Apollo is not reflected in Alcaeus’ hymn to Apollo, whereas narrative elements of Dionysus, Hermes, and Hymn 33 to the Dioscuri are echoed in his corpus of hymns.58 But much depends upon whether one views Apollo as an originally unified poem, and the weight given to the connection of Apollo’s prophecy in lines 540–3 to the First Sacred War.

Hymn to Hermes The poem is universally acknowledged to be the latest of the long Homeric Hymns and its language is certainly the least traditional;59 55 Miller (1979), (1986), Clay (1989), Janko (1991). The Hymn transmitted to us was at least intended to be received as a unity. 56 See Clay (1989), 87–92, Janko (1991), 13. AHS 184–6 date the poem to the late eighth century. 57 See Richardson (2010), 14. 58 See West (2002a), 216–17, and in this volume West (pp. 39–40), Faulkner (pp. 200–1). 59 See Janko (1982), 133–50.

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composition before the sixth century seems unlikely. Nonetheless, there is much debate about the poem’s precise date. A number of parallels strongly suggest the influence of the unified Apollo on Hermes.60 But as we have seen above, the date of this poem is fraught with uncertainties and therefore does not provide a secure terminus post quem. Görgemanns proposed that Hermes’ use of rhetoric, including argumentation based upon probability (265–73), and references to music as a technē ( åÅ) requiring ‘practice’ (æ  ; 447–8), are aligned with sophistic thought and could indicate a date in the fifth century.61 The difficulty with such criteria is the indeterminacy of how early these rhetorical techniques and ideas developed; their presence in the Hymn therefore does not exclude a date before the fifth century.62 Artistic evidence has also been used in favour of a date in the sixth century. The syrinx, which is invented by Hermes in lines 511–12, is transferred from Hermes to Pan in art after the turn of the sixth century, and the motif of Hermes as an infant cattle thief seems to have been particularly popular between c. 565 and 490 BC.63 One might not, however, wish to posit too strict a correspondence between art and literature.64 Finally, it has been suggested that Hermes’ reference to Apollo’s Delphic temple as an attractive and challenging mark for theft (177–81) might exclude the period c.548–505 BC, when the site is known to have been under construction;65 this is possible, although such an honorific formulation need not exclude contemporary upheaval. Ultimately, a late-sixth-century date for Hermes seems most attractive, but the Hymn could also belong to the first half of the fifth century. 60

See Richardson (2007), 89–91, (2010), 20–1, Thomas (2009), 289–94. Görgemanns (1976). On these and other arguments put forth for dating Herm. in the fifth century, see Janko (1982), 142, who himself prefers a late-sixth-century date. 62 See Richardson (2010), 21. Nobili (2008) argues for a date c.510–500 (she attempts to tie Herm. to Athens and suggests performance at the Panathenaea or symposion, in part on the grounds that Herm. privileges the themes of sacrifice, communal banqueting, and music. Performance in Athens is certainly possible, but the Hymn’s themes of sacrifice, communal banqueting, and music could apply to a number of performance contexts. On Herm.’s possible links to Olympia, see below pp. 21–2). Athanassios Vergados, who kindly showed me his commentary on Herm. in advance of publication, also argues that these concepts may have existed earlier and prefers a date in the second half of the sixth century. 63 See Nobili (2008), 184–9, Richardson (2010), 24. 64 See Thomas (2009), 28 contra this as a secure tool for dating. 65 Thomas (2009), 25. 61

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Hymn to Aphrodite Sometimes called the most Homeric of the Hymns, the Hymn to Aphrodite is one of the oldest in the collection. Aphrodite’s prophecy to Anchises (197–8) is very similar to Poseidon’s prophecy about the future of Aeneas’ race in the Iliad (20. 307–8), and the unique character of the passages makes a common formulaic source improbable. Reinhardt argued that the Hymn was in fact composed by the poet of the Iliad, but its language is almost certainly later than both of the Homeric epics, and is very probably also later than both the Theogony and the Works and Days.66 The prophecies nonetheless suggest a close link between the Iliad and the Hymn: both may have been intended to honour a family in the Troad who claimed descent from Aeneas, although this theory has not gone unchallenged.67 One cannot exclude a late eighth-century date, but assuming that the Hymn is later than both the Theogony and the Works and Days, it will most probably have been composed no earlier than the middle of the seventh century. As discussed above, a terminus ante quem is provided by Demeter, which itself seems to belong to the late seventh or early sixth century.

Hymn 7 to Dionysus and Hymn 19 to Pan The lack of tangible historical references or allusions in the seventh Hymn to Dionysus make it difficult to date this Hymn with any precision, although its language and straightforward style are consistent with a relatively early but post-Homeric date.68 Attempts have been made to link the mention of the Tyrsenian pirates (7–8) to the Etruscans and to locate the Hymn in late-seventh-century Corinth.69 However, such associations are at best reflected obliquely in the poem and one might rather emphasize the Panhellenic, temporally generic

66 Reinhardt (1956). On Aphr.’s relationship to Homer and Hesiod, see Faulkner (2008), 26–38. Janko (1982), 165–9 has alternatively suggested that the poem was composed between Hesiod’s Th. and Op. 67 See Faulkner (2008), 3–10. 68 See AHS 379–80, Janko (1982), 183–4. Càssola 287–8, who reviews earlier scholarship, concludes that the poem is undatable. 69 See recently Nobili (2009).

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nature of the narrative.70 The fact that the myth of Dionysus’ abduction is elsewhere first attested in Pindar (fr. 236) has suggested a date in the late sixth or early fifth century, which is perhaps also supported by the possible reflection of the myth on the Exekias cup of c.530,71 but one should not exclude the possibility of an earlier date. As for the nineteenth Hymn to Pan, which seems to have been influenced by Hermes, it is most probable that it does not date before c.500, on the grounds that the cult of Pan did not expand beyond Arcadia before this point.72 One cannot, however, rule out a date in the late sixth century; Herodotus (6. 105) reports that Pan’s cult was adopted by the Athenians after the battle of Marathon, but it could have spread elsewhere earlier than this.73 Also, as we have seen above, Hermes may itself date to the sixth century.

Other Hymns The remaining Homeric Hymns, all of which are shorter than those discussed above, often do not contain any evidence on which to make a decision about date. Janko analyses certain linguistic features of Hymns 6, 27, 28, 30, 31, 32, and 33, which are all between 16 and 22 lines in length,74 but the small data set does not allow for reliable conclusions about date. In most cases, the shorter Hymns can probably be assigned to the period between 700 and 500 BC, but there are a few exceptions which are worth discussing briefly here. An obvious outsider in the collection is Hymn 8 to Ares. Its style, distinguished by an accumulation of epithets, and its identification of Ares with the planet Mars suggest Neoplatonic authorship. It has been attributed to Proclus in the fifth century AD: this is not certain, but it should in any case not belong to a time before the third century AD.75 Elsewhere, the

70

See in this volume Jaillard (p. 133 n. 2). See WL 16–17, who also compares the juxtaposition of Egypt and the Hyperboreans to Pi. I. 6. 23. For the Exekias cup, see in this volume Fig. 2 (Chapter 7, p. 134). 72 For more detailed discussion of Hy. 19’s date and its relation to Herm., see Thomas in this volume (pp. 169–72). 73 See Càssola 361–2 and cf. Janko (1982), 184. 74 Janko (1982), 186–7. 75 For further discussion and bibliography, see in this volume Faulkner (p. 176 n. 4). 71

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pair formed by Hymns 31 to Helios and 32 to Selene are distinguished from the rest of the collection by their closing formulae, which state clearly that they will go on to sing of the deeds of heroes, and have often been thought to date to the fifth century or later on stylistic grounds: a fifth-century date seems reasonable, but an earlier date cannot be ruled out entirely.76 Finally, the concept in Hymn 20 of Hephaestus and Athena leading mankind from a primitive state in caves to civilization through their teaching of crafts could suggest a date for this poem after Protagoras in the second half of the fifth century.77

4. PERFORMANCE AND FUNCTION At the very end of the Delian section of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, which describes an Ionian festival in honour of Apollo on Delos (146–78), the poet-narrator speaks directly to the chorus of Delian maidens. He requests that, should anyone in future ask who is the sweetest singer to visit the island, the maidens identify him as that man:  E ’ s ºÆ AÆØ ŒæÆŁÆØ Iç ø · ‘ıçºe Iæ, NŒE b ø fi Ø ÆØƺ fiÅ· F AÆØ ØŁ IæØıØ IØÆ.’  E ’  æ Œº  Y , ‹ K’ ÆrÆ IŁæø æç ŁÆ ºØ s ÆØÆÆ . Q ’ Kd c ÆØ, Kd ŒÆd Kı  KØ. ÆPaæ Kªg P ºø ŒÅ º ººøÆ   ø Iæªıæ, n MŒ   Œ ¸Å. (Apoll. 171–8) You should all answer in unison, ‘He is a blind man and lives in rugged Chios, and all of his songs are best in perpetuity.’ And we will carry your fame wherever we should wander between the populated cities of men. And they will believe it since it is indeed true. And I will not stop hymning far-shooting Apollo of the silver bow, whom well-tressed Leto bore.

76 77

See Càssola 439–40, 446. See WL 18.

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These lines portray the poet as the blind Homer himself performing the Hymn to Apollo at a Delian festival, just as he is said to do also in the Certamen (315–21), one of many such stops for him throughout the Greek world.78 Whether or not this description is typical in its details, it is clear that the Hymns were in part performed by travelling rhapsodes at major festivals. Such performances will often have been competitive: in Hymn 6 to Aphrodite, the singer specifically asks the goddesses ‘to grant victory in this contest’ (e ’ K IªHØ j ŒÅ fiH ç æŁÆØ, 19–20), and one can assume that this was the case elsewhere too.79 Apart from their performance at public religious festivals, Clay points out that the Hymns could have been performed in more private contexts, possibly at symposia or as entertainment accompanying feasts in court settings.80 When Odysseus visits the Phaeacians in the Odyssey, the bard Demodocus sings instalments from the Trojan War after dinner in the palace of Alcinous (8. 62–96, 499–535), just as Phemius sings of the war at the suitors’ private feast on Ithaca earlier in the poem (1. 325–7). During Odysseus’ visit Demodocus also sings the well-known tale of Aphrodite’s affair with Ares (8. 266–366), an account of embarrassing sexual activity which strongly resembles the narrative of the Hymn to Aphrodite. Demodocus performs the tale of the love affair at a more public gathering organized by the Phaeacians, which includes games and dancing, but one might nonetheless reasonably infer from the Phaeacian episode that early hexameter hymns of some length could, just as epic, have been sung in more private court settings. It has been argued, for example, that the Hymn to Aphrodite was composed in honour of a family in the Troad who claimed descent from Aeneas, and it is notable that this Hymn, in contrast to some others, shows little to no concern with cult.81 Regardless of their exact performance context, the extent to which the Homeric Hymns stood on their own as compositions in these settings has been a matter of debate. Since Wolf at the end of the eighteenth century, the Hymns have commonly been thought to serve 78

On the performance of this Hymn, see further in this volume Nagy (Ch. 13). See Richardson (2010), 1–2, and in this volume Clay (pp. 236–7), Calame (p. 355). Th. 3. 104. 5 assumes that Apoll. was performed in a contest (agōn); cf. in this volume Nagy (pp. 322–3). The term agōn (Iª) is itself used in its basic sense of ‘gathering’ at Apoll. 150; cf. Richardson (2010), 105. 80 Clay (1989), 7, and in this volume (pp. 249–50). 81 See Faulkner (2008), 3–10, (forthcoming b). 79

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as preludes to longer epic recitations. There is some good evidence pointing in this direction. The closing formulae of many Hymns indicate that the poet will go on to sing another song: most explicit is, ‘Having begun with you I will now pass on to another song’ (  ’ Kªg Iæ  Æ  ÆØ ¼ºº K o , Aphr. 293, Hys. 9. 9, 18. 11), but this introductory function could also be indicated by the more common, ‘And I will remember both you and another song’ (ÆPaæ Kªg ŒÆd E ŒÆd ¼ººÅ  ’ IØB , Dem. 495, etc.).82 Hymns 31 and 32 uniquely state at their close that they will go on to sing of the deeds of heroes. External sources seem to attest to this function as well. Thucydides, who is the first ancient source to quote from the Homeric Hymns, refers to the Hymn to Apollo as a prooimion (æ Ø, 3. 104. 4–5), a word which can be taken to mean ‘prelude’, and Pindar claims at the beginning of his second Nemean Ode that the Homeridae begin their recitations with a prooimion to Zeus (˜Øe KŒ æØ ı, N. 2. 1–5). As well, in the Homeric epics the bard Demodocus is said to begin his singing with an invocation to a god (› ’ ›æ ÅŁd ŁF Xæå, Od. 8. 499). It is not, however, agreed by everyone that the long Hymns functioned as preludes to further epic recitation. One consideration is whether poems of 300 to 500 lines could actually have served as preludes to longer recitation when they are substantial pieces themselves.83 Their size is not necessarily an obstacle, given the scale of epic and the potential ability of an ancient audience to sit through long recitations,84 but Demodocus’ performance of the narrative about Ares and Aphrodite discussed above is perhaps an indication that narrative Hymns of some length stood on their own in performance. The term prooimion (æ Ø) used by Thucydides of the Hymn to Apollo is not decisive evidence either, as it can indicate simply the first in a series of songs, which may or may not have included epic.85 Even if the term prooimion was originally used of shorter hymns that preceded epic recitation, it could have been understood in a technical sense by Thucydides without the implication of a subsequent performance of any type.86 There is perhaps no

82 83 84 85 86

On the exact meaning of the latter, see Richardson (1974), 324–5. See AHS xciii–xcv. See Richardson (1974), 3–4, (2010), 2. See further Clay (1997), 494–8, and in this volume (pp. 237–40). AHS xciv–xcv, who compare the modern musical term ‘prélude’.

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way to decide with certainty, but the extent to which one views the longer Hymns as preludes attached to epic poetry in performance potentially has broader interpretative repercussions. For those who see the long Hymns as intrinsically linked to epic, the poems will less readily be understood to stand on their own as a distinct type or genre within the tradition of ancient poetry.87 And whether or not they should be thought of as an independent genre of poetry has become a central discussion in scholarship on the Hymns in the past twenty-five years.

5. GENRE, PANHELLENISM, AND LOCAL CONNECTIONS One of the most influential books published on the Homeric Hymns in the past fifty years has been J. Clay’s The Politics of Olympus.88 In it, she offers a systematic reading of Demeter, Apollo, Hermes, and Aphrodite as complex literary compositions that constitute a distinct genre within archaic Greek poetry. Linear readings of all four poems argue that each of the long Hymns ‘describes an epoch-making moment in the mythic chronology of Olympus’:89 in the narratives of Apollo and Hermes, the births of the two gods require a rearrangement of the Olympian hierarchy, while Demeter and Aphrodite narrate a reordering of relations among gods and between gods and mortals. As such, the Hymns can be seen as overlapping with but distinct from both Homeric epic and Hesiodic theogonic poetry, which constitute the pre- and post-history of the narratives recounted in the Hymns. This approach has many positive implications for the study of the long Hymns and has opened up new avenues for scholarship.90 Some differences between the Hymns and epic poetry are obvious at a first glance: apart from structural divergences, epic focuses chiefly upon 87

See Nagy in this volume (pp. 322–32), who closely links the Hymns and epic. Clay (1989). 89 Clay (1989), 15; cf. her remarks in this volume (Ch. 11). 90 In this volume, see in particular Felson (Ch. 12), who following Clay examines power relations in the Hymns in light of theogony, and Brillet-Dubois (Ch. 6), but also passim. 88

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the world of mortals, in which the gods sometimes interfere, while the narratives of the long Hymns focus on deities, who at times enter into the world of mortals. Nonetheless, the Hymns have often been viewed in the shadow of the Iliad and Odyssey as subordinate, if fascinating, poetry. With Clay, we have an increased understanding of how the Hymns are to be viewed as compositions in their own right. Furthermore, while the Hymns have frequently been treated as a heterogeneous body of poetry which, apart from their shared language, should be read largely independently, Clay’s work has pushed scholars to read the Hymns together. As such, her approach also emphasizes the Panhellenic quality of the Hymns in place of individual connections to local cults.91 There has been some disagreement with aspects of this approach to reading the Hymns. Each of the Hymns certainly narrates an important moment in the life of a god, but the concern with cosmic hierarchy is perhaps not equally strong in all cases.92 One might wonder to what extent the composers of the Hymns were consistently concerned with theological order rather than entertainment.93 There are also consequences open for discussion in assuming a high degree of cohesion among and within the longer Hymns. Whether or not, for example, the Hymn to Apollo is composed of two originally independent sections is a question for continued debate.94 That said, Clay’s work has without doubt done much to improve our understanding of the Homeric Hymns as unified literary works,95 and the Hymns should never again be read in isolation from each other. While opinions about particular readings will continue to differ, it is possible to find middle ground. Even if Apollo is a composite of originally separate hymns, the poem as we have it has clearly been arranged to be read as a unity and benefits from being understood in this way.96 Related to these issues is the question of the extent to which the Homeric Hymns should be considered Panhellenic, as opposed to poems attached to particular localities and cults. In some respects, 91

Clay (1989), 8–11. See Thalmann (1991), and on Apoll. Chappell in this volume (pp. 74–5). For a qualification of the cosmic significance of Aphr., see Faulkner (2008), 10–18. 93 See in this volume Furley (pp. 208–10). 94 See in this volume Chappell (Ch. 4), contra the view of an originally unified Hymn held by Clay (1989) and Miller (1986). 95 See Janko (1991). 96 Cf. Richardson (2010), 15. 92

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the Hymns are evidently Panhellenic in outlook. A distinction has with good reason been drawn between the Homeric Hymns as literary hymns and the hymns used in cult worship in Greece.97 But it would be wrong to draw an absolute line between the two: the Homeric Hymns themselves, assuming that they were performed at religious festivals, can be understood as genuine offerings to a divinity and in this way involved in cult worship.98 Nonetheless, the Homeric Hymns are much less attached to particular ritual contexts, and more strongly linked to the literary Panhellenic theologies of Homer and Hesiod, than cult hymns. One might still recognize a difference between the Panhellenism of the Homeric epics and the Homeric Hymns, some of which, while not cult hymns per se, show a concern with particular cults not found in either Homer or Hesiod. On the surface, Apollo and Demeter both display an interest in local cult: the former narrates the foundation of Apollo’s sanctuaries on Delos and at Delphi, while the latter tells of Demeter’s foundation of the Mysteries at Eleusis. We are told in the Certamen (315–21) that the Hymn to Apollo was inscribed by the Delians and dedicated in a temple of Artemis, and one might assume a particular connection to worship at Delos and Delphi in the two halves of the poem.99 With respect to Demeter, certain details of Demeter’s visit to Eleusis are comparable to what we know of ritual practice in the Mysteries from other sources, which could suggest a relatively close relationship between the Hymn and Eleusis.100 Elsewhere in the collection connections to cult are less obvious but have been proposed also for both Dionysus and Hermes. The myth of Dionysus freeing Hera from the bonds of Hephaestus has been linked to the Samian Tonaia, a ritual in which a cult image of Hera was bound and taken to the shore, and the fragments of the poem seem to refer at least once to the foundation of cult.101 Hermes’ division of meat into twelve portions in Hermes (127–9) could associate it 97

See Furley and Bremer (2001), i. ix. On the Hymns as a musical offering to the divinity, see in this volume Calame (Ch. 14); Richardson (p. 53 n. 25) and Nagy (p. 306 n. 78) also question the rigid exclusion of the Hymns from the category of cult hymns. 99 See in this volume Chappell (pp. 66–7). 100 See Richardson (1974), 12–30, and in this volume (pp. 50–3). For arguments in favour of the poem’s Panhellenic outlook see above n. 48. 101 See West (2001a), 3–4. Fr. D 1–3 seem to explain the establishment of Dionysiac trieteric festivals. 98

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with the cult of the Twelve Gods at Olympia, where Hermes was worshipped together with Apollo.102 As noted above with respect to dating, it has also been argued that the seventh Hymn to Dionysus could be linked to Corinth. If accepted, these links may be an indication of original performance context, but could also in some cases be the result of the Hymns having developed as literary expansions of cult myth.103 But not all of the Hymns evince a connection to cult. In Aphrodite there is mention of the goddess’s sanctuary on Paphos (58–65), but this is stock epic material and no indication of a particular link to cult; other evidence points to northern Asia Minor as the Hymn’s place of composition.104 As well, when Aphrodite first arrives before Anchises on Mt Ida, in the disguise of a young Phrygian princess, the shepherd’s first reaction is to offer to build her a temple and make sacrifices to her (100–2). This has been taken by some to refer to the foundation of an actual cult on Ida,105 but there is no reason to assume this here. Anchises’ reaction is a general attempt at piety in the face of a miraculous stranger, whom (after her sudden appearance on his mountain) he assumes is a goddess; he mentions no geographical or cultic details, such as we find in Demeter and Apollo, and does not even know to which goddess he might be speaking.106 One must, it seems, accept variation in the extent to which the Hymns’ narratives connect them to local cults, and it cannot be assumed that the Hymns all developed in the same way. Yet, connections to local cult do not rule out Panhellenic appeal in the Hymns’ narratives. It is hard to deny this even in the cases of Apollo and Demeter, which, in keeping with the status of Delphi and Eleusis as major Panhellenic sites in Greece, celebrate the universal power and significance of Apollo and Demeter. Whether they evince local connection or not, the narratives of all the long Hymns without doubt transcend both local and temporal boundaries.

102 See Burkert (2001), 178–88, Johnston (2002), 124–6, WL 13–14, Thomas (2009), 14–20. Larson (1995) argues that the poem contains an aetiology for the cult of the bee maidens at Delphi, and Nobili (2008) connects it to the Panathenaea. 103 See in this volume Furley (Ch. 10). 104 See Faulkner (2008), 49–50. 105 Podbielski (1971), 44–5, Càssola 549. 106 See Faulkner (2008), 179.

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6. THE PRESENT VOLUME The preceding discussion has surveyed a number of essential questions in scholarship on the Homeric Hymns up to the present day. It is not by any means an exhaustive account, but it is hoped that it will provide for the reader a foundation for approaching the study of the Hymns, and a sense of how the individual essays in this volume, which have been referred to above in the footnotes, fit into the broader tradition of scholarship on the Hymns. This book proceeds from a steady flow of interest in the Homeric Hymns in the past fifteen years. To name a few contributions since the turn of the century: M. L. West published an important article on the reconstruction of Dionysus and his Loeb edition of the Hymns;107 following a gap of more than twenty-five years from the publication of N. J. Richardson’s full commentary on Demeter in 1974, detailed commentaries on Apollo, Hermes, and Aphrodite have either been published or are currently in preparation for publication;108 a booklength study of the Hymns’ relationship to Callimachus’ Hymns has been completed;109 and N. J. Richardson has recently published his own edition and commentary on Apollo, Hermes, and Aphrodite in the Cambridge Greek and Latin Classics series.110 But despite their recent popularity, there has never been a volume of collected essays devoted to the corpus of Homeric Hymns. In his review of the New Companion to Homer in 1999, Hainsworth noted the need for a collection of expert studies dedicated to the Hymns alone.111 It is hoped that the present volume will fill this gap. However, this book is more than just a companion. It aims not only to evaluate the state of scholarship on the Hymns but also to advance it, and it is ultimately hoped that it will prove useful to a wide range of readers, from undergraduate students under the direction of an 107 West (2001a), WL. See also the German edition of Pfeiff (2002) and slightly earlier the Italian edition of Zanetto (1996). 108 On Aphr. Faulkner (2008). In preparation: expanded and revised versions of the doctoral theses whose dates are given in brackets, on Apoll. Chappell (1995), on Herm. Vergados (2007) and Thomas (2009). Nobili (2008) is another major study of Herm. undertaken as a doctoral thesis in recent years. Another commentary on Aphr. and some of the shorter Hymns is also now in preparation by Professor D. Olson. 109 Vamvouri-Ruffy (2004). 110 Richardson (2010). 111 Hainsworth (1999).

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instructor to experts who turn to the Hymns with an inquisitive eye. In pursuit of this blend, as well as general breadth of vision, the contributors to the volume are composed of both senior and emerging scholars from the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Switzerland, Greece, the United States, and Canada, who together bring a variety of methodologies and backgrounds to the study of the Homeric Hymns. The volume, which is made up of thirteen original essays plus the preceding introduction to scholarship on the Hymns, is divided structurally into two parts. In the first part, an essay is devoted to each of the long narrative Hymns, as well as to the two mid-length Hymns to Dionysus (7) and Pan (19): Martin West considers the reconstruction of the fragmentary first Hymn to Dionysus and the relationship of its narrative to the Homeric epics; Nicholas Richardson revisits questions central to the interpretation of the Hymn to Demeter in light of scholarship since the publication of his commentary on the poem; Mike Chappell re-examines the question of the Hymn to Apollo’s unity; Athanassios Vergados considers the unique presentation of epiphany in the Hymn to Hermes; Pascale BrilletDubois evaluates the Hymn to Aphrodite’s relationship to the Iliadic tradition; Dominique Jaillard examines the epiphanic nature of Hymn 7 to Dionysus in relation to the other Hymns in the collection; and Oliver Thomas offers a systematic reading of Hymn 19 to Pan and its relationship to the Hymn to Hermes. In the second part, six essays give broader attention to the collection as a whole, including the shorter Hymns: Andrew Faulkner considers the formation of the collection and surveys the evidence for the transmission and reception of the Hymns from the seventh to the third centuries BC; William D. Furley explores the relationship of the Hymns to other early hexameter hymns and their possible genesis from theogonic hymns and cult myth; Jenny Clay looks at the generic coherence of the Hymns and their development as a genre; Nancy Felson offers a reading of intergenerational conflict in Apollo and Hymn 28 to Athena and considers further the Hymns’ relationship to Hesiod; Gregory Nagy examines the earliest phases of transmission and reception of the Hymns from the perspective of oral poetics and performance, with particular attention to Apollo; and Claude Calame considers musical performance in the Homeric Hymns and their nature as musical offerings to divinities.

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All of the contributions stand on their own but not in isolation. Where possible, contributors have taken into account the relevant arguments of others in the volume, and throughout the book pertinent discussions elsewhere in the volume (whether in agreement or disagreement) are signalled in the footnotes as much as is practical. Discussion of particular topics or passages can as well be located by using the indexes. The consolidated list of works cited at the back provides a full, if not exhaustive, list of bibliography on the Hymns, which, it is hoped, will also be a valuable tool. In order to accommodate readers of different backgrounds, quotations in languages other than English, including Greek and Latin, are together given in the original and an English translation, except in some cases where it was not possible to include the Greek original for reasons of space. Transliteration is also used in some instances.

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Part I

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2 The First Homeric Hymn to Dionysus Martin West

For many people mention of ‘the Homeric Hymn to Dionysus’ will bring to mind the charming fifty-nine-line poem, numbered as Hymn 7 in modern editions, that tells the story of the god’s capture by Etruscan pirates, his wondrous transformations of himself and their ship, and their mutation into dolphins. There is another brief Hymn to Dionysus, a mere thirteen lines, at number 26. But the collection originally contained a much longer and more important Hymn to him. Only fragments of it now remain, but they stand under the prestigious heading of Hymn 1. They are sufficient for us to reconstruct the principal myth related in the poem. It will appear that this myth, and probably this Hymn, was already known to the poets of the Iliad and Odyssey and influenced several scenes in those epics. In the most recent edition of the Hymns the poem is represented by four separate fragments, containing altogether sixty-three lines or parts of lines.1 In older editions only two of these fragments are printed. It is not quite certain that the other two belong, but it is highly probable. The last twelve lines of the poem are actually preserved in a manuscript of the Hymns, the codex in Leiden (M) that alone preserves the Hymn to Demeter. The earlier part of the manuscript contains a portion of the Iliad, after which a quinion and a folio have fallen out; following the gap there appears the end of the Dionysus Hymn,

1

WL 26–31. The four fragments are there designated A–D, with separate linenumbering for each, and that system of reference will be followed here (as throughout the volume).

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and then the long Demeter Hymn and the rest as far as Hymn 18. 4. On certain assumptions it can be calculated that the Dionysus Hymn would have been some 411 lines in length.2 The other fragment printed in older editions comes from a quotation in Diodorus, who attributes it to ‘the Poet’ (or in another passage ‘Homer’) ‘in the Hymns’.3 This must refer to the same collection of Homeric Hymns that has (mostly) come down to us. As the fragment concerns the birth of Dionysus and is clearly from the beginning of a hymn to him, and as it is unlikely that we have lost two separate Dionysus hymns from the same corpus, we can accept without more ado, what has been generally assumed since Ruhnken, that Diodorus’ fragment is from the same poem as the one in M. In both fragments Dionysus is addressed by the title ¯NæÆçØHÆ, ‘Bull god’ (A 3, D 8). In 1992 André Hurst identified a Geneva papyrus of the second or first century BCE as containing the lines quoted by Diodorus and parts of several more. Four of the fragmentary lines, it has since been discovered, reappear almost unchanged in the Orphic Argonautica, a poem of the fifth century CE, and can be restored from that source.4 They show that the poet’s description of Mt Nysa, Dionysus’ birthplace, continued beyond Diodorus’ quotation and that he portrayed it as a locus amoenus, cut off from human traffic by high cliffs and a lack of any harbour. Zeus gave birth to Dionysus there, ‘far from mankind, concealing him from white-armed Hera’ (ººe I’ IŁæø, Œæø ºıŒº  ˙æÅ, A 8). Hera, of course, was ill disposed towards her husband’s illegitimate children. By the end of the hymn (D) Dionysus was established as a god, presumably on Olympus, destined to enjoy a thriving cult in Greek lands. He no longer had to be kept apart from Hera, who must have become reconciled to him. The main part of the hymn must have contained a mythical narrative that explained how he progressed from the initial to the final situation. We can guess how the story went. We know from various sources of a myth, evidently well known from sometime before 600 BCE, that told how both Dionysus and Hephaestus came to be received in Olympus and accepted by Hera, and this was no doubt the tale told in our hymn. It ran as follows. When Hera gave birth to Hephaestus 2 3 4

See West (2001a), 1. ‘The Poet’ (› ØÅ ), Diod. 1. 15. 7; 3. 66. 3; ‘Homer’ (›  O Åæ ), 4. 2. 4. Hurst (1994); West (2001a), 2. Cf. below pp. 42–3.

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she was disgusted at the crippled child she had borne and threw him down from heaven into the sea. There he stayed for many years with the sea nymphs, the Nereids. After developing his engineering skills to the necessary degree, he made a fine golden throne and sent it as a present to his mother. But in it he had incorporated a secret mechanism of invisible bonds, and when she sat down in it, she found herself trapped. The other gods laughed at her plight. None of them was able to free her. They debated what to do, and concluded that the only recourse was somehow to induce Hephaestus to come back and undo what he had done. Ares undertook to go and fetch him by force. He went off, but failed to achieve his object because Hephaestus defended himself with fire, which Ares could not face. Then Dionysus, who was not yet acknowledged as one of the Olympians, went equipped with wine. He made Hephaestus drunk and brought him back to Olympus in a merry mood, riding on a donkey or mule. He released his mother from the throne, and she rewarded Dionysus by persuading the other Olympians to admit him as one of the Twelve Gods. For a connected account of the myth we have to look to late sources.5 But a series of fragments of Alcaeus shows that he knew and retold the story, and so did Pindar and Epicharmus. The tragedian Achaeus treated it, or at least touched on it, in a satyr play. Plato alludes to ‘Hera’s binding by her son’ as a well-known poetic myth.6 It was a favourite subject with artists.7 The François Vase, a work of Kleitias dating from about 570 BCE (Fig. 1), has a particularly good representation of it, from which some further details may perhaps be gleaned. Dionysus and the ithyphallic mule bearing Hephaestus approach Olympus, attended by a company of Silenoi and nymphs. Behind the throned Zeus and Hera, Athena looks down disdainfully at the armed but submissively postured Ares, as if mocking the failure of his mission. In front of Zeus, as the first to meet the new arrivals, stands Aphrodite, who makes gestures of dismay. Carl Robert conjectured that in the version followed by the artist she had been promised to Hephaestus as payment for releasing Hera. Wilamowitz 5 Paus. 1. 20. 3; ps.-Libanius, Narr. 30. 1 (viii. 38–9 Foerster); cf. Aristid. Or. 41. 6 (ii. 331 Keil); Hyg. Fab. 166; Serv. auct. Ecl. 4. 62. 6 Alc. frs. 349a–e Voigt (cf. Page 1955, 258–61; Libermann 1999, ii. 152–3); Pind. fr. 283; Epicharmus, ˚ø ÆÆd j ῞`çÆØ , PCG i. 51; Achaeus TrGF 20 F 16b–17; Pl. R. 378d. 7 LIMC iv(1). 628–9; Gantz (1993), 75–6. For the François Vase see e.g. Arias, Hirmer, and Shefton (1962), plates 41 and 45 and p. 291.

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Fig. 1. François Vase, by Kleitias. By Permission of Nimatallah / Art Resource, New York

developed the idea: Aphrodite, he supposed, had been promised to Ares if he succeeded in his mission, but in the event it was Hephaestus who got her.8 Perhaps Hera had promised her to whoever could induce Hephaestus to come and set her free, and Dionysus, having obtained her as his reward, bestowed her on his new friend Hephaestus. The Homeric Hymn was no doubt the classic account that later poets and painters had primarily in view. Already in 1872 Theodor Bergk, noting the popularity of the myth in archaic poetry and art, remarked that it might have been related in a hymn of the Homeric type, and Wilamowitz postulated a seventh-century hymn to Hephaestus as the original source of it.9 Bruno Snell made a convincing modification to the hypothesis, namely that the hymn was not a hymn to Hephaestus but to Dionysus.10 It was Dionysus, after all, who came out of the story with the most credit, and it was his admission to Olympus that formed its conclusion. He was, besides, a likelier god than Hephaestus to be honoured with a major hymn. But if such a hymn existed and was widely known in the sixth and fifth centuries, there is some likelihood that it was the same major hymn to Dionysus as was later incorporated in the corpus of Homeric Hymns, the one of which we have fragments. Our third main fragment, C, comes from a papyrus published in 1904. The first editors, Grenfell and Hunt, did not recognize the 8 Robert (1894), 177 n. 3; Wilamowitz-Moellendorff (1895), 220 ¼ (1937), 9. Cf. Il. 14. 267–8, where Hera promises Hypnos one of the younger Graces if he will help her. 9 Bergk (1872), 761 n. 48; Wilamowitz-Moellendorff (1895), 221–3 ¼ (1937), 9–12. 10 Snell ap. Treu (1952), 138–9 ¼ (1963), 149–50; id. (1966), 102–4; Eisenberger (1956), 31–2.

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subject matter. R. Ganszyniec in 1922 saw that it contained the story of Hera’s throne, but he took it to be verse of the late Hellenistic or early Imperial period. It was not until 1973 that Reinhold Merkelbach proposed assigning it to the archaic hymn that Wilamowitz and Snell had postulated.11 This is very plausible. The lines are straightforward in style and do not look like a Hellenistic or later re-telling of the myth. One cannot be certain that they are early,12 but if they are, they must be from a ‘classic’ work, which cannot be any but the Homeric Hymn. About the content of the poem there is not much more that we can say. In its narrative portion it must have been a fine example of the kind of Olympian burlesque represented in the Hymn to Hermes, in Demodocus’ song about Ares and Aphrodite in the Odyssey (8. 266–366), and in more than one scene of the Iliad.13 We think of this as a typically Ionian genre, and there is little doubt that the Dionysus Hymn was an Ionian poem. Wilamowitz connected the myth of Hera’s bondage with the ritual of the Samian Tonaia festival, in which (as may be inferred from an aetiological myth told by Menodotos, a Hellenistic local historian) the goddess’s wooden image was taken down to the shore and tied up in withies.14 He also draws attention to a story that Hera, on giving birth to Hephaestus, apprenticed him to Kedalion in Naxos to train as a smith; Dionysus was important on that island.15 Against a Naxian origin for the Hymn is the fact that in fragment A (2–7) Naxos appears in a list of places where, according to the poet, people falsely claim that Dionysus was born. The other places in the list are Drakanos, Ikaros, Thebes, and somewhere by the Alpheios. The mention of Drakanos and Ikaros as claimants, the first a promontory on Cos, the second a small island near Samos, does indicate the southeast Aegean as the poet’s vantagepoint. P. Oxy. 670; CA 80–1, cf. 245; Ganszyniec (1922); Merkelbach (1973), 212–15 ¼ (1997), 35–7. 12 Dihle (2002) still maintains that they are late, and Faulkner (2010a) draws attention to a couple of vocabulary items which, while not intrinsically late in formation, are not attested in early texts. 13 On humour in Herm., see in this volume Vergados (Ch. 5). 14 Wilamowitz-Moellendorff (1895), 234–5 ¼ (1937), 23–5; Menodotos FGrH 541 F 1 ap. Ath. 672a–d. 15 SchT Il. 14. 296a; Wilamowitz-Moellendorff (1895), 237 ¼ (1937), 27. Dionysus and Hephaestus are supposed to have contested the possession of Naxos (sch. Theoc. 7. 149/150a). 11

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As to his date, if we accept that he was the model for Alcaeus, we must put him sometime before 600 BCE. That does not necessarily mean shortly before 600. In several places in the Iliad and Odyssey we find what look like echoes and adaptations of the Hymn’s central myth. The myth might be older than the Hymn. But one has the feeling that it is not a myth with a firm basis in ancient tradition but a newly invented story; there is a lively freshness about it, as of a story that has just appeared and is going the rounds, captivating new hearers. It is quite possible that it first appeared in our Hymn, or at any rate that it was our Hymn that first made it widely known. If so, we shall probably have to put the Hymn back at least to 650. It may well be the earliest in the collection. Let us look at these apparent Homeric echoes. We may start with the scene in Iliad 18 where Thetis goes to visit Hephaestus to ask him to make new armour for Achilles. He has a sweet and beautiful wife, one of the Graces (382–3). This conflicts with Demodocus’ tale in Odyssey 8, where Hephaestus is married to Aphrodite. But the Aphrodite of the Iliad is a pro-Trojan goddess; we have seen her rescuing Paris from Menelaos (3. 373–82) and trying to rescue Aeneas from Diomedes (5. 311–430). The poet could not plausibly have shown her as the mistress of the house in the Thetis–Hephaestus episode. We may see the Grace as a substitute for Aphrodite: the Graces are after all closely associated with her as spirits of beauty and charm.16 But what is behind the marriage of Hephaestus to Aphrodite? They are an ill-matched pair, and in Demodocus’ tale she is unfaithful to him, as if he were not her partner of choice. In the Dionysus Hymn, as we have seen, there is some reason to suspect that she was given to him against her will, in fulfilment of Hera’s promise that if he did what she wanted he would possess the most beautiful goddess. When Hephaestus hears that Thetis has come, he is delighted: q Þ  Ø Ø  ŒÆd ÆNÅ Łe , l ’ Kø’, ‹ ’ ¼ºª IçŒ Bº Æ Åæe K B NÅØ ŒıØ , l ’ KŁ ºÅ ŒæłÆØ åøºe KÆ. ’ i Ł ¼ºªÆ Łı fiH, N  ’ ¯Pæı Å  ¨ Ø Ł’  Æ Œºø fi , ¯Pæı Å, ŁıªÅæ Iłææı ὨŒÆE.

16

Il. 5. 338; Od. 8. 364, 18. 193–4; Apoll. 194–5, Aphr. 61; Cypria fr. 5. 1 West.

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B fi Ø æ’ N 庌ı ÆÆºÆ ºº, æÆ  ªÆ  Ł’ ºØŒÆ ŒºıŒ  ŒÆd ‹æ ı , K Bœ ªºÆçıæfiH· æd b Þ ὨŒÆE IçæfiH æ æø Þ  ¼ . P Ø ¼ºº Y h ŁH h ŁÅH IŁæø, Iººa ¨ Ø  ŒÆd ¯Pæı Å YÆ, Æ¥ ’ KøÆ. (Il. 18. 394–405) Ah, I have a goddess worthy of fear and respect in my house, the one who saved me when I was in distress after a long fall at the instance of my shameless mother, who wanted to put me out of sight because I was lame. Then I would have suffered woe if Eurynome and Thetis had not received me in their bosom, Eurynome the daughter of back-flowing Oceanus. With them I spent nine years forging many ornaments, pins, bent spirals, rosettes, and necklaces, in their hollow cave, while around it Oceanus’ stream teeming with spume flowed endlessly. No one else knew, neither of gods nor mortal men; only Thetis and Eurynome knew, the ones who had saved me.

Here is the first half of the myth related in the Dionysus Hymn. Hephaestus leaves it unexplained how he got back to Olympus and took up his place there; to have continued with the story of the trick throne would not have been appropriate to the context, where only his indebtedness to Thetis was relevant. However, we can find a reflection of the throne motif in the Dios Apate episode, where Hera seeks assistance from the god Hypnos, Sleep, to overcome Zeus. She goes and finds him in Lemnos (Il. 14. 230). Why Lemnos? It is a convenient staging-post on the way from Olympus to Ida, but not the only available one, and this is hardly a sufficient explanation of Hypnos’ being located there. The only god who would naturally be found there is Hephaestus, for Lemnos is his favourite resort.17 It looks as if the poet has a story concerning Hephaestus in mind. And when Hera asks Hypnos to put Zeus to sleep for her, she promises to repay him with a fine golden throne that her son Hephaestus will make specially (14. 238–40)—not the most obvious gift for the god of sleep, who spends his time roaming over the earth to exercise his office.

17

Cf. Il. 1. 593; Od. 8. 283–4; ‘Hes.’ fr. 148(a).

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Hypnos demurs, recalling an earlier occasion when he had put Zeus to sleep at Hera’s request, when Heracles was sailing back from Troy and she had wanted an opportunity to rouse a storm against him (243–62). The hero had been blown to Cos in consequence. This was part of the pre-existing Heracles mythology known to the poet of the Iliad (cf. 15. 18–30). From it he has borrowed the idea of Hera’s putting Zeus to sleep, with Hypnos’ help, for the Dios Apate. But in referring to the Heracles story here he adds an inorganic tailpiece that may again be spun out of a motif in the Hephaestus story: n ’ Kªæ  åƺ ÆØ, ÞØÇø ŒÆa H Æ Ł , K b ’ åÆ ø ÇØ· ŒÆ Œ ’ ¼œ I’ ÆNŁ æ  ƺ ø fi , N c ˝f  ØæÆ ŁH Kø ŒÆd IæH. c ƒŒ Å çªø, n ’ KÆÆ åø  æ· –Ç ªæ, c ˝ıŒd ŁB fi IŁ ØÆ æØ. (Il. 14. 256–61) And he [Zeus] woke up and was angry, hurling gods about the house; he was looking for me [Hypnos] especially, and he would have thrown me out of sight from the sky into the sea if Night had not saved me, she who subdues gods and men. To her I fled; and he gave up, angry though he was, for he was hesitant to do anything displeasing to swift Night.

Hypnos is thrown down from heaven into the sea and saved by a friendly goddess, just as Hephaestus was in the Dionysus Hymn. A variation on the same motif has appeared in Iliad 1. 590–4, where Hephaestus recalls how he was once thrown from heaven, not by Hera (whom he is now comforting) but by Zeus; he landed not in the sea but on Lemnos, and he was looked after not by Nereids but by the local people, the Sinties. Hera reassures Hypnos that Zeus does not care so much about the Trojans as he did about his son Heracles, and that he will not be so angry with Hypnos this time. And now she succeeds in persuading him by offering him a different reward: Iºº’ YŁ’, Kªg  Œ Ø Ææø Æ ›ºæø ø OıØ ÆØ ŒÆd c ŒŒºBŁÆØ ¼ŒØØ. (Il. 14. 267–8) But come, I will give you one of the younger Graces to marry and to be called your wife.

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Hypnos is thrilled with this, and after making Hera confirm the offer with an oath he sets about doing her bidding. Of course there was no tradition of Hypnos being married to one of the Graces, and it makes no mythological sense. It is an invention ad hoc, inspired by Hera’s offer of Aphrodite to Hephaestus. Hypnos could not be offered Aphrodite, so she is replaced by a minor goddess of love and beauty, a Grace, just as in the Thetis–Hephaestus scene in book 18. Later, when Zeus wakes up and sees how Hera has tricked him, he threatens her with rough punishment and reminds her of the same Heracles episode that Hypnos had recalled (Il. 15. 18–30). There we heard of Zeus’ rage against Hypnos; here he speaks of what he had done to Hera, and again this seems to be a new element in the story, invented for the context.18 He had strung her up with anvils fastened to her feet and bound her hands with an unbreakable golden ligature. This does not correspond to anything in the Dionysus Hymn, but the additional detail that ‘the gods were upset and stood round her, but could not free her’ (Mº b Łd ŒÆa ÆŒæe Ὄºı , j ºFÆØ ’ PŒ KÆ ÆæÆÆ, 21–2) might be adapted from the story of when she was trapped in the trick throne. Zeus seized any of these sympathizers he could and threw him down to earth (22–4): this corresponds to what we heard previously of his treatment of Hephaestus (Il. 1. 590–4) and Hypnos (14. 257–8). Turning to the Odyssey, we recall Demodocus’ tale of the adulterous affair of Ares and Aphrodite. Here we find Hephaestus married to Aphrodite, in accord with the story told in the Dionysus Hymn, only here he is represented as having obtained her by paying a bride-price to her father (8. 318–19). But she despised him for being lame (308–11), just as Hera had done at his birth, and she took Ares as her lover. Initially he seduced her with generous gifts (269), but presently he only had to suggest a session of lovemaking and she willingly agreed (292–5). But Helios, the all-seeing one, had told Hephaestus what was going on (270–1). The cunning artificer then rigged up his bedroom with a network of bonds, fine as spider’s silk, so fine as to be invisible, and withdrew to his favourite island, Lemnos (273–84). Seeing that the coast was clear, Ares went to the house and took Aphrodite to bed. Down came the bonds, and the lovers found themselves caught fast, unable to move an arm or a leg. Helios once again reported

18

So Von der Mühll (1952), 227.

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proceedings to Hephaestus, who returned from Lemnos, took one look into the bedroom, and called upon the rest of the gods to come and see how he had been betrayed. The male gods came (the goddesses were too modest), and they had a good laugh when they saw how Hephaestus had caught the guilty pair (285–332). There are two motifs here, besides Hephaestus’ marriage to Aphrodite, that recall the myth of the Dionysus Hymn. One is Ares’ attempt to get the better of Hephaestus, which fails because of the handicapped god’s mastery of technology. The other is the idea of a piece of furniture that traps those who put themselves on it and holds them so fast that no one but its maker, Hephaestus, can release them. The throne that traps Hera seems likely to be the primary instance, at least if it is the mythical reflection of a seated and bound cult statue. The bed that traps Ares and Aphrodite will be a secondary adaptation of the motif. At the end of the Dionysus Hymn (fragment D) Zeus proclaimed the details of the cult with which the god was to be worshipped, and then gave solemn confirmation that it would be so: q, ŒÆd ŒıÆ fi ÅØ K’ OçæØ F ˚æø· I æØÆØ ’ ¼æÆ åÆEÆØ KææÆ ¼ÆŒ ŒæÆe ¼’ IŁÆØ, ªÆ ’ Kº ºØ Ὄºı . (D 4–6) So spoke the son of Kronos, and nodded thereon with his sable brows; and the lord’s ambrosial locks danced up from his immortal head, and he sent a tremor through great Olympus.19

These same lines also occur, of course, in the Iliad (1. 528–30), where Zeus confirms to Thetis his promise that he will give the Trojans superiority in battle and so ensure Achilles’ restoration to honour. The passage has been celebrated since antiquity as one of the greatest things in the poem. But how is the coincidence to be interpreted? Are the lines simply a formula that a poet might use whenever Zeus decided something?20 The first line does reappear at 17. 209. But in 19 As in certain other places in the Hymns, the manuscript tradition shows a combination of alternative recensions; cf. West (2001a), 9. D 7, S Ng K ı ŒÆæÆØ ÅÆ Z (‘So saying, wise Zeus confirmed it with a nod of his head’), gives a shorter replacement for 4–6, and 11–12 are likewise an alternative to 8–10. 20 As suggested by Càssola 465: ‘il cenno di Zeus doveva essere un tema abituale del repertorio epico, e qualunque rapsodo poteva usarlo’ (‘Zeus’ nod must have been a regular motif in the epic repertoire, and any rhapsode could use it’).

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the Thetis scene the poet certainly does not treat Zeus’ nod as routine; he introduces it as something special: N ’ ¼ª Ø ŒçƺB fi ŒÆÆ ÆØ, ZçæÆ ŁfiÅ · F ªaæ K K Ł ª ’ IŁÆØØ ªØ  Œ øæ· P ªaæ K e ƺتæ P’ IÆź P’ IºÅ, ‹  Œ ŒçƺB fi ŒÆÆø. (1. 524–7) Come, I will nod for you with my head, so that you may rely on it. For this is the greatest sign from me among the immortals: nothing of mine is taken back or delusive or unaccomplished, that I nod upon with my head.

And when Zeus returns to his halls Hera voices her suspicion that he has ‘nodded’ definitively for Thetis (558). It is usually taken for granted, unreflectingly, that the lines are original in the Iliad and that in the Dionysus Hymn they are, if not interpolated, an imitation. But if we are right in finding so many echoes and reflections of the Hymn in the Iliad and Odyssey, it will be natural to see the lines as a borrowing from the Hymn by the Iliad poet. Zeus’ promise to Thetis is of momentous significance for the Iliad, and we can see why the poet wanted to emphasize it. Yet from a wider viewpoint it may be felt that the Mighty Nod is more appropriate to an occasion such as that in the Hymn, where another god’s honours and privileges are being solemnized,21 than to a private agreement with a minor deity for a temporary purpose. The Dionysus Hymn remained influential for centuries. Alcaeus composed one of his own in which he retold the same myth; it was one of several poems in which he drew on current hexameter hymns to encapsulate their substance in a more compact lyric format.22 If the

21

Cf. Sappho 44A. 7–8 Voigt. In his hymn to Hermes (fr. 308 Voigt þ SLG S264) he related how the infant god stole Apollo’s cattle and then his bow, the story we know from the Homeric Hymn to Hermes. The Homeric Hymn is unlikely to be as early as Alcaeus, but it no doubt had an older model. Alcaeus’ hymn to the Dioskouroi, fr. 34 Voigt (with which PMG 1012 perhaps belongs), had very similar content to Hymn 33. There is also a fragment of a hymn to Artemis, ascribed by some to Alcaeus (304 Lobel–Page) but by others to Sappho (44A Voigt), in which the goddess swears an oath of eternal virginity while touching the head of her father Zeus, and he assents and grants her her special role as a huntress. In the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite (25 ff.) there is a similar description, but applied to Hestia instead of Artemis. On Alcaeus’ (and Sappho’s) relationship to early hexameter hymns and epic poetry cf. West (2002a). 22

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five tiny fragments assigned to it in Voigt’s edition (349a–e) all belong there, the god was addressed with the Lesbian form of the same title as in the Homeric Hymn, ! ¯ ææÆçHÆ ¼ ¯NæÆçØHÆ (‘bull god’). The gods’ laughter at the entrapped Hera’s plight was noted, as was Ares’ boast that he would fetch Hephaestus by force. Dionysus ended up as ‘one of the Twelve’. Alcaeus and Sappho can already refer to a body of established ‘classic’ poems. So do the Attic black-figure vase painters of a decade or two later, such as Sophilos who depicted the chariot race at Patroclus’ funeral games from the Iliad. On the magnificent volute krater known as the François Vase Sophilos’ younger contemporary Kleitias painted a whole series of mythological scenes from various poems: the Calydonian boar hunt; the chariot race at the games for Patroclus; Theseus’ liberation of the Athenian youths and maidens from Crete; the battle of Lapiths and Centaurs; the wedding of Peleus and Thetis; Achilles’ pursuit of the doomed Troilos; Hephaestus’ return to Olympus with Dionysus, as described above (Fig. 1); and the battle of the Pygmies and Cranes. The inclusion of the myth from the Dionysus Hymn testifies to its prominence in Athenian consciousness at the time. We know virtually nothing of the treatments by Pindar, Epicharmus, and Achaeus, but they confirm the continuing appeal of the myth, and the Hymn, which by now will have been current under the name of Homer, will have been well known to these authors, and will have served as their primary source. ‘Hera’s binding by her son’ figures prominently among the poetic topics that Plato would ban from his ideal city, together with ‘Hephaestus’ casting out by his father when he made to assist his mother who was being beaten [Il. 1. 590–1], and all the battles of gods that Homer has composed’ (R. 378d).23 When Callimachus in his hymn to Zeus asks: H ŒÆ Ø, ˜ØŒÆE I  Mb ¸ıŒÆE; K ØB fi ºÆ Łı  , Kd ª  I çæØ. ZF, b b !" ÆØØ K hæ çÆØ ª ŁÆØ, ZF, b ’ K æŒÆfi Å· æØ, æ, KłÆ; ‘˚æB Id łFÆØ’ . . . K   —ÆææÆfi Å ῾#Å  Œ. (Call. Hy. 1. 4–10) 23

 HæÆ b  f e   ŒÆd  HçÆı ÞłØ e Ææ , ºº B fi Åæd ı fiÅ I ıE, ŒÆd Ł ÆåÆ ‹Æ  O Åæ ÅŒ P ÆæÆŒ  N c ºØ, h’ K ÆØ ØÅ Æ h ¼ı ØH.

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How shall we sing of him, as Dictaean or Lycaean? I am in two minds, since his birth is disputed. Zeus, they say you were born in the mountains of Ida, but Zeus, they say in Arcadia: which of the two parties, Father, spoke false? ‘Cretans are always liars’ . . . It was in Parrhasia that Rhea bore you.

— we might think he is being the typical Alexandrian, showing off his erudition, playing off different traditions against each other, and asserting the right to pass judgment on them. In fact, at the outset of his first hymn, he is following the model of what was probably already read as the first Homeric Hymn (A 2–8):24 Q b ªaæ ˜æÆŒø fi ’, Q ’ !" Œæø fi M  fiÅ çA’, Q ! K ˝ø fi , E ª  ¯NæÆçØHÆ, Q  ’ K’ ºçØfiH Æ fiH ÆŁıØØ {ŒıÆ Å $ ºÅ Œ Ø ˜Ød æØŒæÆø fi }, ¼ººØ ’ K ¨ fiÅØ ¼Æ  º ªıØ ª ŁÆØ, łı Ø· b ’ ØŒ Æcæ IæH  ŁH  ººe I’ IŁæø . . . . For some say it was at Drakanos, some on windy Ikaros, some on Naxos, O scion of Zeus, Bull god, and some at Alpheios the deep-swirling river, while others, Lord, say that it was at Thebes you were born— all false! The father of gods and men gave you birth far from humankind . . .

A century later the Pergamene scholar Crates of Mallos quoted from ‘the ancient Hymns’, meaning no doubt the Homeric Hymns, a hexameter, ‘luxuriant with their own dark grape clusters’ (ÆPB fi Ø ÆçıºB fi Ø ºÆfi ÅØ Œ ø ) referring presumably to vines. It is a reasonable assumption that it came from a hymn to Dionysus, and that it was the one Homeric Hymn to Dionysus that we know we have lost. It is included in my edition as fragment B. The line might have stood in the lengthy description of Nysa, where Dionysus was born (fr. A). Alternatively it might have described the response of nature as he made his way with Hephaestus in a bibulous ŒH  (‘revel’) from land to land—a Dionysiac miracle like the one that

24

On the formation of the collection, see Faulkner in this volume (pp. 175–81).

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happens on the pirate ship in Hymn 7. 35–42, when a vine laden with grape clusters spreads along the top of the sail. Diodorus in the time of Augustus quotes eight lines from fragment A on the birth of Dionysus.25 The last two he quotes twice again in other passages, and they are also quoted by a scholiast on Apollonius Rhodius. Evidence for knowledge of the Hymn continues in the Roman period. Pausanias, commenting on a painting in the theatre of Dionysus at Athens that showed the god bringing Hephaestus up to heaven, gives a summary of the myth, starting from Hephaestus’ birth, that corresponds well with our other evidence for the content of the Homeric Hymn, and he introduces it with the words º ªÆØ b ŒÆd  e % Eººø (‘this also the Greeks say’, 1. 20. 3). Pausanias was an avid reader of early poetry, and it is likely that he is drawing on his direct knowledge of the Hymn. We cannot necessarily assume this for the other late sources that relate or allude to the myth. However, the plagiarization of the Hymn by the author of the Orphic Argonautica is a striking testimony that cannot be gainsaid. The verses that he takes over are: Ł’ h Ø f Å €d] æ: [A fi ] æø IŁæø· P ªæ ƒ Ø ºØ] : , ÅH Zå I çØºØ ø, Iºº ƒ Mº Æ]: : :  æÅ æØ æ  fiÅ łÅº,   ŒÆ]º: a çØ ØŒ Æ ºº. (A 11–14  Orph. Arg. 1199–202) No one of humankind crosses there by ship, for it has no harbour where curly-tipped ships can ride, but a steep cliff encloses it all about to a great height. But it grows lovely and delicious things in abundance.

The later poet applies the lines to the Oceanic island of Demeter from which Pluto carried off Persephone as she picked flowers in the broad grove. That story is told, of course, at the beginning of the Hymn to Demeter, the Hymn that follows the Dionysus Hymn in the Homeric corpus. It may have been the contiguity of the two Hymns that led the poet of the Argonautica to think of the topographical description that stood in the one when he referred to the myth narrated in the other. 25 Diod. 3. 66. 3. A ninth line (A 5) is interpolated in some manuscripts of Diodorus, but absent from the Geneva papyrus. Cf. above p. 30.

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In any case his knowledge of the passage provides further confirmation that the Dionysus Hymn was a standard text, still being read in the fourth or fifth century of our era. But then, we know that it survived the end of antiquity together with the rest of the Homeric Hymns; that it survived, indeed, at least into the fifteenth century, when Ioannes Eugenikos copied it complete in M, probably in Constantinople sometime after 1439. The loss of its greater part occurred at an unknown date between then and 1777, when Christian Friedrich Matthaei, professor and Rector in Moscow, discovered the manuscript there. Is it beyond the bounds of possibility that the missing leaves might one day turn up, to restore to us one of the earliest of Greek poems and one of the most significant for literary history?

3 The Homeric Hymn to Demeter Some Central Questions Revisited Nicholas Richardson1

1. INTRODUCTION This Hymn stands out from the other ones in the collection, because of the sustained intensity and dramatic power of its narrative, and the seriousness of its theme, the rape of Demeter’s daughter Persephone by the lord of the underworld and its consequences. A brief review of the poem should illustrate these points. It is really a hymn to both Demeter and Persephone, deities so closely linked in both myth and cult that they were often referred to simply as g Ł (‘the two goddesses’). After announcing that he will sing of Demeter and her daughter the poet immediately moves into the narrative of Persephone’s violent abduction by Hades, an action sanctioned directly, as he says, by her father Zeus (1–3). The carefree innocence of the scene where she is gathering flowers with the daughters of Oceanus is undermined by the description of the narcissus as a ‘trap’ (º , 8) created by Gaia, through the will of Zeus, as a favour to Hades, ‘the host of many’ (ºı Œfi Å, 9). The whole universe, gods and mortals, heaven, earth, and sea are caught up in wonder at its extraordinary beauty. For Kore (Persephone) it is simply ‘a lovely plaything’ (ŒÆºe ¼Łıæ Æ, 16), but when she reached out to pluck it: 1 I should like to thank Andrew Faulkner for his helpful suggestions for improvements to this paper. Translations are my own.

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å b åŁg PæıªıØÆ ˝Ø i  B fi Zæı ¼Æ —ºı ª ø ¥Ø IŁÆØØ ˚æı ºıı  ıƒ . ±æÆ ’ I ŒıÆ Kd åæı ØØ ZåØØ qª’ Oºçıæ Å· NåÅ ’ ¼æ’ ZæŁØÆ çøB fi ŒŒº Å Æ æÆ ˚æÅ oÆ ŒÆd ¼æØ. (Dem. 16–21) The broad-wayed earth gaped open On the Nysian plain, where sprang forth the Lord, the Host of many, With his immortal horses, Kronos’ son who has many names. Seizing her against her will upon his golden chariot, He carried her away lamenting. And she cried out with a shrill voice, Calling upon her father, the son of Kronos, highest and best.

In their dramatic force these opening lines have some similarity with the introduction to the Hymn to Apollo, which portrays the god’s terrifying entry to Zeus’ palace and the other deities’ response to this. But this scene ends with calm restored, and acts as a prelude to the story of Apollo’s birth, whereas in the Hymn to Demeter the narrative continues with the same intensity, up to the point where the mountains and sea re-echo Persephone’s cries and Demeter at last hears: Of  Ø ŒæÆÅ ¼å ººÆ , I çd b åÆÆØ I æÆØ Œæ Æ Æ&Ç åæd çºfiÅØ, Œı b Œºı Æ ŒÆ’ I ç æø º’ þ ø, Æ ’ u ’ Nøe Kd æÆçæ  ŒÆd ªæ. (Dem. 40–3) And a sharp grief seized her heart, about her ambrosial locks Her headdress was torn apart by her hands, She cast a dark covering over both her shoulders, And sped like a bird over land and water in her search.

Demeter’s grief at her daughter’s loss is intensified when she learns from the Sun god who her abductor is. Her grief and her anger against Zeus are leading motifs in what follows. Ultimately they lead her to create a famine, which continues until Zeus sends Hermes to bring Persephone back to the upper world (305–83). Before this, however, come the central episodes of the poem: Demeter’s visit to Eleusis disguised as an old woman, her nursing of Demophon, the infant son of king Celeus, her attempt to immortalize Demophon, which fails when his mother Metaneira discovers what she is doing, and finally

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the revelation of her true identity and the building of her temple at Eleusis (91–304). In these scenes the pace of the narrative is more leisurely. In some ways they resemble the more domestic episodes in the Odyssey, whose influence they seem to show. There is also a more cheerful atmosphere, in the description of the daughters of Celeus, whose youthful innocence and grace resembles that of Persephone and her companions, their courteous dialogue with the goddess, the jests of Iambe which cheer Demeter and make her laugh, and the miraculous growth of the baby Demophon. But in counterpoint to this is the continuing theme of Demeter’s sorrow, and the whole atmosphere is changed when Metaneira detects Demeter hiding her son in the fire, and the anger of the goddess at being thwarted is directed towards her. Demeter’s self-revelation (in which she castigates mankind for their folly) leads to a dramatic scene of domestic confusion and terror, strongly contrasted with the previous order and harmony of the royal household. The last part of the narrative (305–489) reverts to the theme of Demeter’s anger against Zeus and her withdrawal from divine society. But whereas in the opening scenes she was a helpless victim of Zeus’ plan, here the tables are turned. The narrative of the events leading up to Persephone’s return progresses in a fairly traditional manner, with messenger scenes, journeys and speeches (some abbreviated), and with some epic breadth, as in Persephone’s extended recapitulation of how she was carried off (405–33) and the threefold recurrence of the conditions for her future life above and below the earth (398–400, 445–7, 463–5). Demeter’s grief and anger eventually give way to joy at her daughter’s recovery, and this is mirrored in the return of life to the natural world, the two goddesses’ ascent to Olympus, and the promise of blessings in life and after death to those who enjoy their favour. Thus the more positive character of the closing part of the Hymn is in marked contrast with the opening scenes. At the same time, however, the seriousness of death is not avoided. Just as Demophon must die, so too Persephone must still spend a third of the year with Hades, as ruler of the dead, and those who fail to propitiate her will suffer punishment for all time to come (364–9). The rites which Demeter teaches the Eleusinian leaders are strictly secret, and anyone who is not initiated into these ‘will never have a part in an equal destiny after death, down in the mouldy gloom’ (h Ł’ › ø ÆrÆ åØ çŁ  æ e Ççø fi PæØ, 481–2).

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In addition to its seriousness and intensity, the Hymn is unusual in that throughout much of the narrative the focus of attention is on the female characters, both divine and human. Hades instigates the action, but it is Persephone’s cries which echo through the opening scenes. Later on Hades speaks only once, addressing Persephone when he has been asked to let her go (360–9). Zeus, whose consent sanctions the drama, is significantly absent when she is carried off and does not hear her cries (20–9), and when he later sends a series of envoys first to Demeter, then to Hades, and then again to Demeter, we never hear him speak directly: his instructions are reported in indirect speech and in the words of the messengers (314–56, 441–69). In the opening part of the poem Demeter meets Hecate and Helios, both of whom speak to her, Helios at greater length (51–89), and Helios’ attempt to console Demeter by assuring her of the status of her new son-in-law anticipates Hades’ own words of reassurance to his bride (82–7, 362–9). But the main function of this scene is to trigger Demeter’s anger and withdrawal from divine society. In the Eleusinian episode, the main participants are female, Demeter in disguise, Celeus’ daughters, Iambe, and Metaneira. Demophon, although the centre of attention during his divine nursing, can do no more than cry pitifully when she abandons him (284–91), and king Celeus appears only at the end, when he carries out Demeter’s instructions to build a temple, again without direct speech (292–300).2 In the final scenes, once Hades has released Persephone, our attention is focused on the reactions of her and her mother and their dialogue. They are joined by Hecate, as Kore’s future attendant, and by Demeter’s mother Rhea, who brings Zeus’ final instructions and relays them in detail. In terms of sympathy, the poet encourages us to identify with the female characters, especially Demeter and Kore in the portrayal of their suffering, and Metaneira in her anxiety and subsequently her grief for her son. One might see a parallel between this Hymn and the longer Hymn to Aphrodite, since both goddesses are portrayed as victims of Zeus’ plans. Whereas Apollo and Hermes in their Hymns both perform exploits which proclaim their character and powers, Aphrodite is ironically the helpless victim of her own power of love, 2

On the direct and indirect speeches in the Hymn see especially Beck (2001), and also Richardson (1974), 41, with his comments on Dem. 172–3, 314–23, and Nünlist (2004), 38–9.

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and the characters of Demeter and Kore could almost be defined in terms of suffering. In the Hymn to Apollo also Leto is portrayed as wandering helplessly around the Aegean in her search for a birthplace for Apollo (45–9), and as a victim of the jealousy of Hera (92–106). Later, in the episode about the birth of Typhaon, Hera in turn views herself as the suffering victim of Zeus’ disdain, and her angry withdrawal from divine society resembles that of Demeter (305–55). Demeter’s counterpart, Dionysus, is also regularly portrayed as a suffering god, in this case at the hands of mortals, on whom he takes revenge (cf. Hy. 7), but he is often seen as an ambivalent figure, androgynous in appearance. By contrast, Athene reveals her masculine side in the dramatic description of her birth in full armour from the head of Zeus (cf. Hy. 28). Thus, to some extent at least, one might say that the feminine in these divine stories is associated with suffering and passion, the masculine with action and achievement.

2. RECENT INTERPRETATIONS OF THE HYMN Recent studies have considered the poem from a range of different perspectives.3 These include: (1) the language and style of the Hymn and its place in the development of early hexameter poetry; (2) the relationship of the narrative with the cults of Demeter and Persephone, especially those at Eleusis; (3) the way in which the Hymn defines (or redefines) the roles of the two goddesses in the Olympian order of the world; (4) the aspect of ‘gender conflict’ in the Hymn and the view of the rape of Persephone as a possible paradigm for human marriage; (5) the structure of the narrative, and problems concerning its coherence. What follows is a brief review of these various forms of interpretation.

3

This essay is mainly concerned with scholarship on the Hymn since the publication of my edition (1974), reprinted with corrections and additional bibliography in 1978.

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(1) Place in the tradition of early hexameter poetry In terms of language, this Hymn draws on a traditional body of material represented both in the Iliad and Odyssey and also in the Hesiodic poems, especially the Theogony and Works and Days. The Hesiodic character of the Hymn is quite marked. In addition to words, phrases, and formulae with Hesiodic parallels, analogies between some parts of the Theogony and the Hymn are close enough to suggest the possibility of direct influence. Direct knowledge of the Iliad and Odyssey is also a distinct possibility.4 There are, moreover, striking points of contact with the longer Hymn to Aphrodite, which are probably best explained as due to the influence of this poem.5 At the same time, the Hymn shows a good deal of individual language and formulaic developments.6 The dating of all these works remains a subject of debate, but a late seventh-century date for the Hymn to Demeter would fit with these assumptions, and with other internal evidence.7 It is possible that the poem was originally composed for performance at an Eleusinian festival, but whether the poet was himself from Attica, as has been suggested, remains uncertain.8 Studies of the language of the Hymn in relation to the early formulaic tradition in general have emphasized a greater fullness of expression, for example in the use of multiple epithets with names of deities,9 and the use of repetition as ‘a major literary device’.10 Segal has analysed in detail the ways in which repeated language is used to articulate the narrative, and give emphasis to a series of leading motifs, such as grief, wrath, withdrawal, light and darkness, honour, mortality and immortality, fasting and eating, and so on. Porter, in discussing the use of repetition in the Hymn to Aphrodite, suggested that this technique is employed in a way which is more appropriate to hymnic than to epic style.11 The Homeric Hymns describe the nature 4

See Richardson (1974), 30–4, 333–5, Janko (1982), 181–3. See Richardson (1974), 42–3, Faulkner (2008), 38–40. 6 See Richardson (1974), 43–52. 7 Cf. Richardson (1974), 5–11, Janko (1982), 181–3. See in this volume Introduction (p. 10). 8 Cf. Richardson (1974), 12, 52–6, Janko (1982), 183, Clinton (1986). 9 Cf. Gaisser (1974), Segal (1981). 10 Cf. Richardson (1974), 59–60, Segal (1981). 11 Cf. Porter (1949), esp. 269–72. 5

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of a god or gods, and this gives them a certain timeless or reflective quality, which is combined with their narrative and dramatic functions insofar as they also tell of the actions or exploits of the gods. Repetition can help to bring out the permanent character and attributes of a deity, or emphasize the power of the gods. Fullness of expression in relation to the gods is also more suitable for hymnic style, as it helps to dignify or praise them. For example, in the opening scenes of the Hymn to Demeter the frequent multiple epithets attached to Demeter, Zeus, and Hades emphasize their natures, Demeter as solemn and graceful goddess of fruitfulness, Zeus as supreme ruler of the world, and Hades as lord of the dead. At the same time, the recurrent language also brings out the motifs of wonder at the miraculous narcissus, the violence of Kore’s rape, and the desperation of her cries for rescue. These features reflect the fact, well expressed by Parker, that there is ‘a certain feel of oxymoron’ to the title Homeric Hymns, since ‘the style and manner of these poems are, in a very broad sense, those of Homer and heroic epic; the content—the attributes, powers, cults and histories of gods—is rather that of prayers and hymns’.12

(2) Aetiology and ritual The central episode of this Hymn culminates in the building of Demeter’s temple at Eleusis and her promise to teach her rites to the Eleusinians (270–4, 293–304), a promise fulfilled at the end of the poem, where these rites are said to be strictly secret (473–82). The Hymn has thus been described as ‘the Mysteries’ foundation myth’.13 It has also been argued that other parts of the narrative of Demeter’s quest for Kore can be related to the ritual of the two goddesses.14 A number of these passages can be linked to those aspects of the cult of the goddesses which did not belong to the central and secret rites of the Eleusinian Mysteries: for example, Demeter’s wandering with torches, her fasting and abstention from washing, sitting at the well called Parthenion, and also sitting in silence on a stool covered by a 12

Cf. Parker (1991), 2. Cf. West (2003), 7. 14 Cf. Richardson (1974), 20–30, and see also his commentary, especially notes on Dem. 24–6, 40 ff., 47, 48, 98 ff., 105 ff., 126, 153, 154, 155, 169–88, 176–81, 180 ff., 188–211, 188–90, 192–211, 200, 202 ff., 207, 231–55, 265–7, 292–304, 387–404, 438–40, 439, 440, 450, 470–82, 474–6, 489. 13

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fleece inside the palace, the jesting of Iambe, and Demeter’s breaking of her fast by drinking a special potion (the cyceon; ŒıŒ). Others concern the various figures who later received honours in the cult at Eleusis. Not all of these connections are necessarily related solely to the various stages of the Mysteries themselves. Iambe’s jesting, for instance, is said by Apollodorus (1. 5. 1) to be the origin of the jesting at the women’s festival of the Thesmophoria, although there is also evidence for such jesting, or ‘ritual abuse’, as a preliminary to the Mysteries, as well as at other festivals of Demeter.15 In the case of Demeter’s nursing of Demophon, and her failed attempt to make him immortal, it is tempting to see a thematic connection with the Mysteries, in which the role of Demeter and Kore as divine nurses for the initiates seems to have been prominent, and the benefits offered by initiation could be viewed as a kind of substitute for the immortality which is denied to Demophon, and by analogy to mortals in general.16 The extent to which the Hymn is concerned with the cults of Eleusis, and more specifically with the Eleusinian Mysteries, has been questioned by Clinton, who argued strenuously in 1986 that ‘the story of the Rape was no doubt a standard one, sung all over the Greek world. Our author gave it a partly Eleusinian setting; he may have been an initiate, but he was not deeply interested in Eleusis.’17 This view was countered by Parker, who replied that ‘his argument 15 16 17

Cf. Richardson (1974), 213–17. Cf. Richardson (1974), 26–30, 231–6, Parker (1991), 8–10. Cf. Clinton (1986), 48. He gave the following reasons: (a) The name Persephone, used in the Hymn, is not found in Greek inscriptions from within the sanctuary at Eleusis. The Hymn also disregards the sacred names Theos and Thea for Hades and Persephone, and does not refer to Hades as Plouton, as inscriptions do. (b) The Rape is located on the plain of Nysa, rather than Eleusis. (c) Hecate is prominent in the Hymn but not found in Eleusinian inscriptions. (d) Eumolpus is mentioned, but not as the first Eleusinian Hierophant. (e) Keryx, the mythical ancestor of the Attic ª  of the Kerykes, is not mentioned. (f ) There is no reference to Athens in the Hymn. (g) Triptolemus is listed among the Eleusinian princes, but the Hymn does not refer to the story of Demeter’s gift to him of grain. (h) At the end of the poem, Paros and Antron are mentioned as cult centres of Demeter, as well as Eleusis (Dem. 490–1).

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that the poet was ill-informed about details of Eleusinian cult and organization is much weakened by the chronological gap, probably of at least a century, between the Hymn and the other, chiefly inscriptional, evidence to which he appeals; and the instances of good local knowledge weigh against him more heavily than he allows’. He also pointed out that Attic poets and vase-painters ‘did not treat the name “Persephone” as taboo in an Eleusinian context’, and that ‘Hecate is certainly prominent in Eleusinian iconography, even if her cult happens not to be attested’. Parker concluded that ‘if one removes Eleusis, the hymn falls to pieces’.18 Clinton subsequently modified his position, to allow for the greater prominence of Eleusinian themes, but argued that connections between the Hymn and cult have more to do with the Thesmophoria than the Eleusinian Mysteries.19 In view of the nature of the evidence, and especially the secrecy attaching to a good many rituals of Demeter and Kore, it may be unwise to be too dogmatic about this question. It is probably reasonable to speak, as Brumfield does, of the ‘symbolic complexity and multivalence’ of the Hymn,20 in other words that it bears a close relationship to the rituals of the two goddesses in general, but cannot be treated too literally as a guide to any of these. At the same time it is an attractive idea, as expressed by Parker, that ‘the Hymn ends with a kind of poetic epopteia, a viewing of the Mysteries, in which the association of corn with a revelation and a promise about the afterlife is fundamental’. His further suggestion is that ‘one might see Demeter’s first mention of the rites at 273 as the poem’s equivalent to myēsis [i.e. the first stage of initiation at Eleusis], the final revelation of 474 as epopteia [the final stage]’.21 Thus the structure of the narrative would actually mirror the experience of the initiates as they progress from anxiety and fear, as in the climax of the Demophon episode, to hope and joy in the final vision of a better fate. If the assumptions which have been made about the closeness of this Hymn to cult are correct, one might ask to what extent this is a special case among the Homeric Hymns. The first Hymn to Dionysus, 18

Cf. Parker (1991), 6 n. 22, and passim for a detailed review of the evidence. Cf. Clinton (1992), esp. 13–37, 96–9, 116–20, and (1993), esp. 110–16. He argued that the jesting of Iambe, the nursing of Demophon, the roles of Hecate and Hermes, and the Callichoron Well (Dem. 272) all fit better with the Thesmophoria. 20 Cf. Brumfield (1981), 240. 21 Cf. Parker (1991), 13. 19

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of which only fragments survive, may have told the story of how Hera was bound fast to a throne made by Hephaestus, who was subsequently persuaded to release her by Dionysus. This myth in turn has been linked to the ritual of the Samian Tonaia, in which the goddess’s statue was taken down to the seashore and bound with withies.22 The final part of this Hymn, preserved in the Leiden manuscript (M), also contains a passage connecting the narrative of the poem with the origin of the biennial festival of Dionysus (Dion. D 11–12). The Hymn to Apollo is very much concerned with the god’s cults, especially those of Delos and Delphi, and in addition to the extended passage about the Delian festival, the later part of the poem is full of references to actions of the god which were commemorated in ritual. It is thus quite heavily aetiological in character.23 The Hymn to Hermes charts the origin of a series of inventions created by Hermes, and the sacrifice by Hermes of two of Apollo’s cattle by the river Alpheios is quite probably an ÆYØ for the cult of the Twelve Gods at Olympia. But in the Hymn to Demeter it remains striking how closely narrative and cultic elements seem to be interwoven. Some later writers speak of how the story of Kore’s rape and Demeter’s search for her was commemorated during the Mysteries, and the initiates may well have seen themselves as to some extent participating in these events.24 It has also been suggested that this Hymn in itself is designed as an ‘act of cult’, in view of the close connection at the end between the double proclamation of blessing and prosperity for those favoured by the goddesses (Dem. 480–2, 486–9), and the closing prayer of the poet for their favour (490–4): the performance of the poem itself evokes the prosperity which it describes.25

(3) The Hymn and the order of the world It has been suggested that the Homeric Hymns as a type of early hexameter poetry form a complementary genre, which together with the Homeric epics and the Hesiodic poems charts the nature of the 22

Cf. West (2001a), esp. 2–4, and in this volume (p. 33). See also Chappell in this volume (esp. pp. 64–6). 24 Cf. Richardson (1974), 25–6, Parker (1991), 4–5. 25 Cf. Calame (1997), 130–3. This aspect of ‘cult hymns’ is emphasized by Furley and Bremer (2001), i. 6–8. In this respect their exclusion of the Homeric Hymns from this category may be open to question. 23

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gods and their relationship with mankind. The four longer narrative Hymns, in particular, define their deities’ place within the Olympian pantheon, under the direction of Zeus, and so are concerned with ‘the politics of Olympus’.26 The Hymn to Demeter fits into this pattern, since as a result of the events which it describes the cosmic order undergoes a significant development. At the end of the Hymn the two goddesses are established firmly as members of the divine society on Olympus (483–6), but Persephone’s situation is unique in that she is Hades’ wife, and as such must return to the Underworld for part of each year. At the same time the gulf between gods and men, because of men’s mortality, is not breached (as Demeter wished to breach it for Demophon), but instead a new relationship is established for mankind after death, thanks to the special favour of Demeter and Kore. Moreover, the sufferings of the two goddesses bring them into a closer sympathy with mankind in their plight, since Persephone herself has been carried off by the lord of the dead, and regularly crosses the boundary separating the upper and the lower worlds. It is because of their closer identification with men, and Kore’s status as an intermediary figure, that Demeter and her daughter can offer mortals their special affection and favour, both in life and after they die.27 The Hymn thus has its place from this point of view within the wider context of early hexameter poetry as a whole.

(4) Marriage and death in the Hymn Another branch of modern scholarship has seen in the story of Kore’s rape a paradigm for human marriage as a form of ‘symbolic death before a symbolic rebirth and reincorporation into a new household as wife and mother’.28 Other Greek myths of the abduction of a bride, or of a father’s sacrifice of his daughter, have been compared to this one and interpreted in similar terms. This approach views the story as one of gender conflict, as in some of the cosmological myths in Hesiod’s Theogony, and also in Aeschylus’ Oresteia.29 The intense relationship of mother and daughter is opposed to the masculine 26 Cf. Clay (1989), esp. 15–16, 267–70, and in this volume (Ch. 11). For some qualifications to this approach cf. Furley in this volume (esp. pp. 208–10). 27 Cf. especially Rudhardt (1994), 198–211, and see also Alderink (1982). 28 Cf. Foley (1994), 104, and passim. 29 Cf. Foley (1994), 112–18.

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roles of Zeus, Hades, and also Helios (who supports Hades and Zeus). Demeter’s resistance ultimately forces Zeus to yield to a compromise, whereby Persephone is shared between heaven and underworld, rather as a reconciliation is effected between Zeus and the Erinyes at the end of the Oresteia, and they acquire a new role and honours as beneficent powers. Given the close analogy and sometimes equation of Demeter and Erinys this parallel is striking, especially as the Aeschylean conflict stems originally from Agamemnon’s sacrifice of his daughter Iphigeneia, and the anger of her mother Clytemnestra. The Hymn might even be regarded as a kind of dramatic trilogy in miniature, with loss and conflict followed by an intermediary development, and then final resolution and reconciliation. The view of Persephone’s rape as a paradigm for marriage in general is more debatable. The imagery and rituals associated with death and marriage have elements in common, and this is also true of marriage and various mystery cults. But there does not seem to be clear evidence to show that the ancient Greeks in the historical period viewed the violent abduction of Persephone as a model for marriage as an institution in itself. To maintain it therefore one needs to argue that the myth is the reflection either of a deeper psychological reality, or of a more primitive stage in Greek society, as some scholars have done. It is questionable how relevant this is to interpretation of the actual narrative of the Hymn.30

(5) The coherence and significance of the Hymn The structure of the Hymn has been criticized on the grounds that the sequence of events is not always clearly motivated. In several other versions of the myth, Demeter comes to Eleusis or another place in search of her daughter and receives information about the rape, for which she rewards the local inhabitants with the gift of agriculture, or establishes her rites.31 In the Hymn, however, she learns from Helios that Hades has abducted Kore. She then withdraws herself from divine society and visits Eleusis. No explicit reason is given for this,

30

Cf. the criticisms of Clay (1989), 209–11; also Calame (1997), 124–5, and Kledt (2004), 33–4. 31 Cf. Richardson (1974), 81–2, 174.

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although we subsequently learn that she wishes to immortalize Demophon. Again, however, we are left to speculate about why she does this. Having failed in this attempt she commands a temple to be built and promises to teach the Eleusinians her rites. But at this point she again withdraws, this time within her new temple, and creates the famine which forces the hand of Zeus. In other myths of a similar kind from Greece and the Near East, the death of crops and vegetation arises more directly from the disappearance or wrath of a powerful deity, and just as Persephone’s return in the Hymn is followed by the renewal of life in the fields, so too one might expect that her abduction would have resulted directly in the famine.32 The Hymn presupposes that men already know the art of agriculture, whereas from the middle of the sixth century onwards the Eleusinian hero Triptolemus receives the gift of corn from Demeter and then teaches it to the rest of the world.33 It was on the Rarian Plain, near Eleusis, that the first sowing of crops was said to have taken place, and it is here in the Hymn that Rhea meets Demeter and gives her Zeus’ instructions, which lead to the rebirth of the crops (Dem. 450–6, 470–3). This suggests that the poet is aware of the form of the story in which agriculture was first given to men after Kore’s rape and return, but only alludes to this obliquely.34 It is possible to speculate about the relationship between the Hymn and other versions of the myth, in order to explain some of the twists and turns of the narrative. But the poet has chosen to tell the story in a particular sequence and it is only fair to assume that he has his own reasons for doing so. Moreover the longer Homeric Hymns differ from Homeric epic in the manner with which they treat everyday realism, as Parker has observed.35 As he says, ‘they present divine myths, stories about the organization of power in the world, with all the freedom of fantasy that such serious subjects demand’. In the Hymn to Hermes, for example, Hermes is ‘hungry for meat’ (Œæø KæÆÇø: 64), steals some of Apollo’s cattle, and roasts two of them, but then does not eat them despite his hunger (115–37). This may be because he is a god, and gods normally do not

32 33 34 35

Cf. Richardson (1974), 258–60. Cf. Richardson (1974), 194–6. Cf. Richardson (1974), 297–8. Cf. Parker (1991), 4.

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consume the main parts of a sacrificial animal, but the poet does not see the need to explain this. Equally, he does not have to explain all of Demeter’s behaviour to his audience. Part of a god’s power lies precisely in the fact that their purposes are not always clear to men. At the same time, it is possible to view the actions of Demeter in terms of the results they produce.36 The poet wants to give a central place to the story of Demophon, with its potential implications for mankind’s lack of immortality, counterbalanced by the special favour of the divine nurses for the initiate. Demeter’s visit to Eleusis results in the institution of her cult there, with its universal importance for mortals in general. The motif of the famine is postponed until after this central section of the poem. It is also possible, as we have seen, that the poet wished the structure of his work to reflect the two main stages of initiation at Eleusis, at the conclusion of the central and final parts. Whatever the truth about such speculations may be, the Hymn surely gains rather than loses in its effectiveness as a result of the mysterious quality of its narrative. Demeter’s visit to Eleusis, for example, is based on patterns which are typical of early epic narrative.37 But into these patterns is woven a sequence of motifs which are quite extraordinary, because this goddess is no ordinary visitor and her cult is one shrouded in awe and mystery. It is the achievement of the poet that he has succeeded in evoking so powerfully this sense of mystery and awe, in a work which uses traditional narrative techniques in such an original way.

3. CONCLUSION The range of interpretations evoked by the Hymn in recent times is a testimony to its appeal, both as a poetic narrative and also as a work which sheds light on Greek religious belief and practice. The poet has succeeded in investing a story which might have had purely local

36

Cf. Parker (1991), 11. Cf. Richardson (1974), 179–80, 190, 205–6, 207–8, 226–7, 339–43, etc. See also Lord (1994), and Foley (1995), 136–80, esp. 160–80. 37

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relevance with a more universal significance, thus giving credibility and dignity to the claim of Eleusis to be the most important cultcentre of Demeter and Kore. Above all the Hymn in itself could be regarded as an ¼ªÆº Æ, a work of art offered to the goddesses in whose honour it is composed: ªæø b ŁE ŒººØ IØÆ For songs are the finest of honours for the gods (Theoc., Id. 22. 223).38

38

In addition to the books and articles cited above, the following selection may be found useful: Sowa (1984), Motte (1986), Saintillan (1986), Cheyns (1988), FelsonRubin and Deal (1994), De Bloois (1997), Nickel (2003).

4 The Homeric Hymn to Apollo The Question of Unity Mike Chappell

The Hymn to Apollo is one of the most studied of the Homeric Hymns. Until recent years scholarship mostly focused on the problem of the hymn’s unity.1 The most important more recent works, those of Miller and Clay, have continued to discuss the question of unity but have taken a more unitarian view than earlier studies, and attempted to demonstrate the Hymn’s unity by treating it as a unified work of art that has a coherent plan and themes linking the two sections. Whether or not one accepts their arguments for the Hymn’s unity, it is a welcome change to read works that do look at the Hymn as a planned poem with definite themes rather than merely as a clumsily stitched together patchwork, and their studies have greatly increased our understanding not only of the Hymn to Apollo but all the Homeric Hymns and their relationship to other archaic Greek poetry. As their arguments for unity look at the themes of the poem as well as its structure, after looking at the unity problem I shall combine a discussion of some important themes with analysis of whether the treatment of these themes does indeed support the idea that the hymn is a well-planned unity. Clay also sees the Hymn’s combination of Delian and Delphic themes and emphasis on the spread of Apollo’s 1 For a detailed survey of the problem and of earlier opinions on it, see Förstel (1979), 20–62. Important more recent contributions are Janko (1982), Thalmann (1984), Miller (1986), Clay (1989), Stehle (1996). Clay summarizes her views on the hymn in Clay (1994).

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worship in terms of the conscious Panhellenism that in her view is a feature of the longer Hymns.2 Whether an original unity or not, the Hymn is clearly divided into a Delian and a Pythian section.3 D. (1–181) narrates Apollo’s birth on the island of Delos. It tells how Leto searched for a place to give birth, being rejected by many places because of their fear that Apollo would be a powerful and dangerous god who might scorn his birthplace (19–48). Eventually, the small rocky island of Delos agrees to be the god’s birthplace, but only after extorting an oath from Leto that Apollo will honour her and be worshipped there (49–96). Hera tries to delay the birth by keeping back Eileithyia, but after the other goddesses fetch her, Apollo is born. As soon as the infant god tastes nectar and ambrosia he develops miraculously, bursting his swaddling bands and declaring that his main attributes will be the bow and lyre, and that he will prophesy to men the will of Zeus (97–132). Then comes a list of Apollo’s favourite haunts, culminating in the description of a festival on Delos and the chorus of Delian maidens, to whom the poet says farewell. He also asks them to praise him as a blind singer from Chios (133–78). P. (182–546) tells of Apollo’s search for a place to found his oracle. His route takes him from Olympus, through Pieria and Iolcus to Euboea, and then up to Delphi through Boeotia and Phocis. He first chooses the spring Telphousa in Boeotia as a suitable site, but Telphousa persuades him that there is a better site on the slopes of Parnassus (244–76). When Apollo arrives there he kills the snake that was a menace to local people, then lays the foundations of his temple, which is completed by the heroes Trophonius and Agamedes and the people dwelling nearby (277–387). After this, the god decides to find priests for his temple and chooses a group of Cretans sailing to Pylos (388–99). In the form of a dolphin he hijacks their ship and takes it up the west coast of the Peloponnese to Crisa (400–39). There he leaps out of the ship in the form of a star and kindles the fire in his temple. He returns to the Cretans in the form of a vigorous young

2

See below, pp. 64–7. On this issue, cf. the Introduction in this volume (pp. 19–22). I shall use the abbreviations D. for the Delian section, and P. for the Pythian. Unless otherwise indicated, translations of the Hymns are taken from Evelyn-White (1936). 3

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man, reveals his identity and tells them that henceforth they will serve at his shrine and never return home (440–85). He also commands them to found an oracle on the shore to him as Apollo Delphinios, because he appeared to them in the form of a dolphin. He then leads them in procession to Delphi, where he tells them that they will live off the offerings of pilgrims and warns them that if they behave hubristically they will live under the yoke of new masters (485–544). The first scholar to question the Hymn’s unity was David Ruhnken in 1782. He based his argument mainly on lines 165–78, on the grounds that they contain all the features of a typical hymnic ending.4 He also argued that the first hymn praises the Delian Apollo and the second the Pythian Apollo; and that the independence of D. is confirmed by the external evidence of Thucydides and Aristides.5 In the nineteenth century, scholarship on the Hymn mainly followed the analytical trend of Homeric scholarship, and some scholars divided it into more than two original hymns; as early as 1786 Groddeck argued that it was made up of five fragments of hymns. It is not necessary to postulate such a patchwork of fragments. D. and P. are both coherent wholes, except that P. lacks a proper beginning (it has a prologue, but no hymnal opening). As is usual for the Hymns, the typical present-tense sections come at the beginning and end, and as with the other long Hymns they frame a developed narrative. Each has a coherent theme which is announced at the beginning and brought to a conclusion by the end. D. has a longer present-tense section which describes the occasion of the Hymn’s performance and refers to the poet himself (146–76). Though its length and elaboration are untypical, other Hymns do also at the end refer to the performance situation and describe current cults which (in the longer Hymns) result from the god’s actions in the

4

Ruhnken (1782). I discuss these features in more detail below (p. 63). Thucydides (3. 104) quotes lines 146–50 and 165–72 of the Hymn (with some variants), and introducing 165–72 says that here the poet finished his praise (KºÆ F KÆı). Ruhnken and others see this as evidence that Thucydides knew an independent Delian hymn, but others argue that he was only referring to the end of the section praising the Delian maidens. Aristides (Or. 34, 35 Keil) cites 169–72 as the ending of a hymn (ŒÆƺø e æ Ø), but most commentators believe he is dependent on Thucydides here rather than quoting the Hymn first-hand. For the argument that these quotations are evidence of D.’s separate existence, see Jacoby (1933), 689–92; contra, Heubeck (1966). Cf. Clay in this volume (pp. 238–40). 5

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narrative (e.g. Dem. 470–95, Hys. 6. 19–21, 13. 3, 24. 4–5, 26. 11–13). Thus the two parts each have a beginning, middle, and end which match those of other Hymns. With the addition of an opening line or two to P., both parts would work well as independent Hymns. Perhaps the most influential separatist theory has been that of Wilamowitz, in his Die Ilias und Homer.6 He argued that the two hymns were not independent fragments later cobbled together; P. was composed as an addition to, and imitation of, an originally independent D. This theory has several attractions. It explains the composite Hymn’s origin as a poetic design rather than an accident of transmission. It accounts for the similarities and parallels between the two parts, which are too close to be a matter of chance, and for the fact that P. has no proper hymnal beginning (it starts abruptly without the usual announcement of which god will be the subject of the song). It is also much simpler than some of the complex analytical theories about the Hymn’s genesis. For these reasons something like Wilamowitz’s theory has remained the most popular among separatists.7 A notable exception is West, who has argued that it was D. that was composed later, and modelled on P.8 Later the two hymns were put together and some further changes made at that point (notably addition of the Typhaon episode at lines 305–54). In his recent Loeb edition,9 West suggests that it was the same poet, Cynaethus of Chios, who first composed the D. section and then later produced the combined version that we have. West is not the first to suggest that one hymn was not simply added to the other, but that the poet who composed the addition also altered the original poem. Hermann argued that there was an independent Delian hymn, and a combined hymn that omitted the description of the Delian festival, as it was only relevant for the original circumstances of performance (thus consisting of lines 1–139 and 179–546).10 A scribe who had both versions before him combined them rather than write out lines 1–139 twice. Jacoby combined this theory with that of Wilamowitz, suggesting that the composer of the P. addition altered

6

Wilamowitz-Moellendorff (1916a), 440–62. French scholars have often referred to P. as the ‘suite Pythique’, e.g. Humbert (1936). 8 West (1975). 9 WL 9–12. 10 Hermann (1806). 7

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D., and that traces of the different versions remain in the form of doublets in D.11 The heart of the separatist position is that lines 165–78 form, in the words of Ruhnken, the ‘customary epilogue and ending of a hymn’ (solitum hymni epilogum et finem). Certainly they have a strong sense of closure, and have formal elements typical of hymn endings: (a) Iºº’ ¼ªŁ’ (‘but come now’) in 165; cf. Dem. 490, Hy. 20. 8. (b) ¥ºÅŁØ (‘be favourable’) requesting the god’s favour. Forms of ¥ºÅŁØ/¥ ºÆ ÆØ are common in the closing prayer (Dion. D. 8; Hys. 19. 48; 20. 8; 21. 5; 23. 4). (c) åÆEæ/åÆæ (‘farewell’) which occurs in the endings of 27 of the 33 Hymns. (d) the promise to continue singing of the god. Other features appropriate to the end of a hymn are the shift to the present tense, the description of a festival whose origins the narrative has explained, and the references to the circumstances of performance and the poet himself.12 In favour of the Hymn’s unity, Miller argues that P ºø (‘I will not cease’) in line 177 shows that the poet intends to continue;13 but this is more naturally understood as the sort of promise to sing of the god in the future which is typical of hymnal endings. A precise parallel is SEG 8. 548. 25 P ºø ªºÅ Æ  ı Iø (‘I will not cease singing of your power’), from the concluding section of a hymn to Isis. At the end of many Homeric Hymns the poet promises to remember the god as well as to move to another song. It also seems natural to take it as parallel to the immediately preceding futures in which he promises to spread the fame of the Delian maidens. He says that he will praise the maidens ( E ’  æ Œº  Y . 174), but not cease singing of Apollo, just as he will remember the god as he moves to another subject. If 1–178 existed as an independent hymn, nobody would ever say it seemed incomplete or lacked a proper ending.

11 Jacoby (1933). His posited doublets are 6/7–9, 10–13/14–18, 72/73–9, 96/98, 128/129, 136–8/139 (the last has some manuscript support). Wade-Gery (1936) suggests that there are also some doublets in P., notably at 295–9. 12 On the formal aspects of hymnic endings, cf. in this volume Calame (pp. 354–7). 13 Miller (1979), (1986), 65–6.

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Miller does succeed in showing that the passage has some untypical features for a hymnic ending. Apollo is not directly addressed, which is unparalleled in the other Homeric Hymns. It is the Delian maidens who are addressed by the poet, and the åÆæ (‘farewell’) is directed to them. As with the gods addressed in other endings, there is a request for their favour and a promise to sing of them in the future. Miller therefore argues that it is only the Delian maidens (and by extension the Delian theme) of which the poet is taking leave, and that the passage is a transition to a new theme rather than the end of a poem. These are good points, but I think not enough to counterbalance the many features that give the lines the unmistakable feel of an ending. It is true that Apollo is not addressed, but the passage still begins and ends with him, and we still have a request for his favour and promise to sing of him in future (165, 177–8). I would argue that the poet has ingeniously combined his evocation of the circumstances of performance and address to the maidens with a standard prayer for the god’s favour and promise to remember him in return. The other major argument against the Hymn’s unity is the different geographical spheres of the two sections. D. is focused only on the Aegean and its coasts, and it is only Ionians who visit the great Delian festival (30–44, 140–64); while P. centres on mainland Greece, notably Boeotia and Phocis (especially in 216–99). It could be argued that this is just a reflection of their subject matter, but the division need not have been so clear cut. A poet might have described mainlanders coming to Delos, or have had Leto travel also over the mainland in her search for a birthplace. Another link would have been to have Apollo go to Delphi after his birth on Delos, as later authors did.14 In our Hymn, Apollo is said in D. to wander over coasts and islands, and delight most in Delos; and in P. he is first described (with a present tense describing typical activities) going to Delphi, and from there to Olympus, from where he begins his journey in search of a site for his oracle. On the side of unity, Clay argues that the Hymn treats both Delos and Delphi because its outlook, in common with that of the other major Hymns, is consciously Panhellenic.15 Though the two halves do 14 First in E. IT 1234–57, though it appears in fifth-century art (see LIMC s.v. Apollon, nos. 988–97). For later references, cf. e.g. Call. Hy. 2. 103, A. R. 2. 707–8, Hyg. Fab. 140, Serv. ad A. 3. 73, Macr. Sat. 1. 17. 52. 15 Clay (1989), 9–11, 47–9, 92–4, and this volume (p. 246).

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focus on shrines in particular locations, these are shrines that had a Panhellenic and not just local significance. The two sections between them emphasize Apollo’s Panhellenic importance: D. covers the Aegean and its coasts, while P. deals first with northern and central Greece and then the Peloponnese. In both parts the wide geographical range of Apollo’s worship is stressed, and his shrines are said to attract pilgrims from far afield, especially at lines 247–53 ¼ 287–93. Though the lines are first spoken when Apollo arrives at Telphousa, this is an aetiological poem and it is the Pythian Apollo and his shrine that they really glorify by stressing the wide range of pilgrims that the Delphic oracle will attract. This could be understood as an expression of rivalry with other shrines such as Delos rather than a unifying Panhellenism. Clay argues that there would have been no difficulty with a hymn designed for performance on Delos also narrating the story of Delphi’s founding, because these were Panhellenic shrines. She states that ‘we should not foist off a nineteenth-century parochialism on the Greeks’.16 Yet it is more problematic than she suggests to imagine such a combined hymn. Burkert argues that, as the Hymns were probably composed for specific local festivals, ‘the Apollo hymn, as we read it, seems to become an impossibility: the first part in fact describes the festival and addresses an audience at Delos, but the second part presupposes a Boeotian-Phocian setting.’17 It is true that there was a development of Panhellenic shrines in the archaic period, but this does not mean that regional interests and rivalries were wholly superseded.18 A hymn performed at Delos would focus on Delian themes, and a Delphic hymn on Delphic.19 Certainly a 16 Clay (1989), 48. Miller (1986), 112–13, expresses similar sentiments. AHS 190–2, Càssola 98, and Förstel (1979), 163, also think it would not have been a problem to perform a combined Delian and Delphic hymn at Delos or Delphi. 17 Burkert (1979), 58–9. This is not an outdated viewpoint. Cf. Graf (2009), 26, ‘All major hymns are intimately connected with a specific local cult about which the text talks and in which the hymn must have originally been performed’. 18 Panhellenism as a conscious ideology probably only developed after the Persian Wars, but from the early archaic period there seems to have been a development of cultural Panhellenism: cf. Nagy (1979), 6–9, 115–21, Morgan (1993). For a recent survey of theories about the rise of Panhellenism, see Mitchell (2007). 19 Apart from D. and Call. Hy. 4 to Delos, no complete Delian hymns have survived. Pindar’s Paeans 7b and 12 were probably composed for performance on Delos, and focus on the birth story. Extant Delphic hymns unsurprisingly focus on Delphic themes. The surviving hymns celebrating Delos or Delphi are collected, with discussion and commentary, in Furley and Bremer (2001).

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Delphic hymn might mention Apollo’s birth on Delos, but not as a major theme;20 and it is unlikely that a poet performing on Delos would follow his Delian hymn with a much longer narration of the founding of the Delphic oracle. Equally, a hymn composed for performance at Delphi would hardly state that Delos was Apollo’s favourite place (as in 146) and describe a Delian festival as if it were the occasion of the hymn’s performance. It is reasonable enough to argue that the Homeric gods are Panhellenic, in the sense that they are pictured largely on Olympus, and references to their local cults are avoided. This is well-established, as Clay shows by citing Rohde’s formulation.21 However, the Hymns are not precisely the same as Homer in this respect. They do use the same apparatus of the Olympian family, but also show more interest in particular localities and cults, as one might expect of hymns. As indicated above, both parts of the Apollo Hymn have a strong sense of place, and the focus is much more on the god at Delos or Delphi than on Olympus, though both parts do open with an Olympian scene to remind us of this background. In the Apollo Hymn the Pythian poet shows interest in and knowledge of Boeotian topography and cult, as well as the focus on the location of Delphi. Apollo founds cults to himself at Telphousa (375–87) and on the shore at Crisa as Delphinios (490–6), and the shrine at Onchestus of Poseidon is also described (229–38). Nor is it correct to say that ‘the hymn presents the Delian panegyris as a Panhellenic affair rather than a local festival’,22 since only Ionians are said to be there. Clay also argues in favour of the Hymn’s Panhellenism that it presents the foundations of Delos and Delphi as purely Apolline foundations, with no local predecessors. In both cases the barrenness of the site is stressed (53–5, 529–30), and in P. no mention is made of any previous owners of the oracle. Thus local traditions are played down in favour of the Olympian and Panhellenic. However, the poet makes no explicit comments to this effect, and the poverty of the sites of Delos and Delphi can equally be understood in other ways—for example Miller interprets it as a way of praising Apollo by stressing

20 e.g. Limenius’ Delphic paean describes the birth at 5–10, and Alcaeus’ seems to have begun with the birth, according to the summary in Himerius (fr. 307c Voigt ap. Him. Or. 48). 21 Clay (1989), 9, citing Rohde (1898), 38–9. 22 Clay (1989), 93.

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how he, by his power, has made unpromising locations into famous shrines.23 There is no need to see this praise of Apollo as a promotion of Panhellenism, nor is it a strong argument in favour of the Hymn’s unity. Stehle rightly argues that D. (which she regards as originally independent), with its purely Ionian festival and emphasis on Delos as Apollo’s favourite place, does not have a Panhellenic outlook. On her view P., which is consciously Panhellenic, was composed as an addition to D., so it is the combined Hymn that is fully Panhellenic.24 This theory does partially solve a problem facing separatist theories. I have argued that a unified poem celebrating both Delos and Delphi at some length is unlikely, yet, in that case, why would someone have created the combined Hymn, and what performance context would it suit?25 Someone might have created the combined Hymn with a self-conscious Panhellenic agenda. If this is so, we could say that the whole Hymn is Panhellenic in celebrating both Delos and Delphi, but its two parts, or at least D., are not—this only makes sense on a separatist view of the Hymn’s genesis. So if there is Panhellenism in the Hymn it need not be a unifying theme, but rather an argument for its original disunity. If the two parts of the Hymn are originally independent, can we detect linguistic or stylistic differences between them? Linguistic criteria might provide a more objective basis for deciding the unity question. The most important linguistic analysis is that of Janko,26 who does find differences between D. and P. in various linguistic criteria. The largest variation is in their use of nu-mobile before consonants: D. has 60. 8 occurrences per thousand lines, P. only 13. 7. Nu-mobile seems to be a feature largely of Attic-Ionic from an early period, so this suggests that D. has an Ionian origin, and P. a mainland one, which is what we might expect from their content. This criterion seems to be more reliable than most of Janko’s as an indicator of a poem’s geographical origin, since it does not cut across dialectal boundaries in the way that (e.g.) the treatment of pre-vocalic 23

Miller (1986), 22–3, 75. Stehle (1996), 177–96. She describes D. as ‘a mimesis of communal poetry and correspondingly anti-Panhellenic’ (178). Mitchell (2007) similarly argues that D., the earlier poem, is concerned with Ionian identity, and it was the poet of P. who later joined his poem to D. and had a more Panhellenic agenda. 25 See below (p. 72) for one proposed answer to this question. 26 Janko (1982), 99–132. 24

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digamma does.27 Hesiod’s language is Ionicized in many respects, but not this one: Janko’s figures for the Theogony and Works and Days are 21. 5 and 21. 7 respectively, while for the Iliad and Odyssey they are 35. 6 and 37. 2. The Delian section’s higher figure probably reflects its later date. It is hard to draw conclusions from Janko’s other criteria, since P. varies a great deal in its results relative to other Hymns; but since this variation is different from the results for D., it is another indication of disunity. So the linguistic evidence provides some arguments against unity, but has to be used with caution given the shortness of the Hymn and of D. in particular.28 Many scholars have detected differences in style and ethos between the two parts, although these judgments are inevitably subjective. A common view is that D. is more ‘lyric’ in style, and is also the better poem.29 It has been compared to lyric poetry in its swift movement and rapid transition from one topic to another, and the use of apostrophe (though this continues until line 282, well into P.).30 The poet’s references to himself and his audience also seem more characteristic of lyric than epic. P. is often more Homeric and leisurely in style, especially in the episode of the Cretan sailors (388–544), but this could be due to ‘epic’ subject matter such as the voyage and landing scene, where the closest Homeric parallels are found (e.g. 421–7 and Od. 15. 295–300; 440–7 and Il. 4. 74–9; 452–5 and Od. 3. 71–4; 503–7 and Il. 1. 433–7, 485–6). The Pythian poet also displays a fondness for etymology that is absent from D. in his explanations of the cult titles Pythios and Delphinios (371–4, 493–6). Miller criticizes ‘the assumption that stylistic differences within a literary work can be accounted for only by positing multiple authorship’.31 This is a fair point, but stylistic differences are more of an argument for disunity than for unity; and more 27 Janko (1982), 64–8. Hoekstra (1965), 78 ff. argued that the frequency of this usage increased in the course of the epic tradition; Janko shows that this is true at least for the Ionian branch. 28 Some examples of Janko’s figures are: % neglect of digamma D. 34.6, P. 22.4; % genitives in -Ø D. 34.4, P. 45.6; % genitives in -ı D. 28.6, P. 52.0; % a-stem acc. plurals before vowels D. 33.3, P. 55.6. 29 D.’s superiority: Wilamowitz-Moellendorff (1916a), 455, Jacoby (1933), 751, Van Groningen (1958), 319–20, Wade-Gery (1936), 56, Càssola 98. Contra: AHS 192. 30 Rapid transitions: 14, 19, 45, 133, 146, and 179 if it is part of D. Apostrophes: 19–29, 127, 140–8, 179–81, throughout 207–46, 281–2. In D. the apostrophe is largely confined to the opening and closing present-tense sections, whereas in the first part of P. it is used for the main narrative. 31 Miller (1986), 115.

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subtle linguistic differences, such as the use of nu-mobile, are certainly not the result of any conscious stylistic variation. There are nonetheless many parallels in structure and phraseology between the two parts. Both open with a scene on Olympus in which Apollo arrives and has an effect on the other gods, and his parents rejoice in their son (1–13, 186–206). Both have a ‘choice of theme’ section introduced by the line H æ ’  ø, ø hı  KÆ (‘How then shall I sing of you who are in all ways a worthy theme of song’, 19/207). Leto wanders through many places looking for a place to give birth, as does Apollo in the search for a site for his oracle, as discussed above.32 Both encounter and have a dialogue with a local goddess (Delos, Telphousa) at the place they choose (in Apollo’s case not his final choice). Leto persuades Delos to accept Apollo, while Telphousa persuades Apollo not to choose her. In both cases there is a promise to build a temple and sacred grove at the site, and here the verbal parallels are close, as are the parallel phrases referring to the people who will bring hecatombs to the future shrine, and the founding of the oracle: ÆN  Œ’ ººø ŒÆ æªı Åe åfiÅŁÆ, ¼Łæø Ø  IªØı’ ŒÆ Æ KŁ’ IªØæ Ø, ŒÅ  Ø ¼ ÆN Å F IÆ&Ø, ŒØ Ł’ ¥ Œ ’ åøØ åØæe ¼’ IººæÅ , Kd h Ø EÆæ ’ sÆ (Apoll. 56–60) But if you have the temple of far-shooting Apollo, all men will bring you hecatombs and gather here, and incessant savour of rich sacrifice will always arise, and you will feed those who dwell in you from the hand of strangers; for truly your own soil is not rich. › ’ ¼ººÅ ªÆEÆ IçÆØ,fi w Œ –fiÅ ƒ ÆŁÆØ Å  ŒÆd ¼ºÆ æÅ Æ· (Apoll. 75–6) he will go to another land such as will please him, there to make his temple and wooded groves. Iºº’ Y Ø ºÆÅ ª, Ł, ªÆ ‹æŒ O ÆØ, KŁ Ø æH Ø æ،ƺº Æ Å  ÆØ IŁæø åæÅæØ, ÆPaæ ØÆ Æ K’ IŁæı , Kd q ºıı  ÆØ. (Apoll. 79–82)

32

See above (pp. 60–1).

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But if you will dare to swear a great oath, goddess, that here first he will build a glorious temple to be an oracle for men, and then [build temples] among all mankind; for surely he will be greatly renowned. (trans. adapted from Evelyn-White, 1936) B ’ Kd ¸Åºø fi ø fi ,  Ø På – Łı fiH ÆŁÆØ Å  ŒÆd ¼ºÆ æÆ. (Apoll. 220–1) You stood in the Lelantine plain, but it pleased not your heart to make a temple there and wooded groves. B ’ Kd 'ºçÅ · ŁØ Ø – åHæ I ø ÆŁÆØ Å  ŒÆd ¼ºÆ æÆ. (Apoll. 244–5) Then you went to Telphousa; and there the pleasant place pleased you for making a temple and wooded groves. 'ºçF’, KŁ c çæ ø æ،ƺº Æ Å IŁæø FÆØ åæÅæØ, ¥  Ø ÆN KŁ’ IªØıØ ºÅ Æ ŒÆ Æ (Apoll. 247–9 ~ 258–60, 287–9) Telphousa, here I intend to make a glorious temple, an oracle for men, who will always bring to me here perfect hecatombs.

These are not standard formulaic phrases, so the parallel passages cannot be independent. Another parallel is the idea that the inhabitants of the shrine will feed on the sacrifices brought by worshippers (59–60, 528–36). These parallels between D. and P. are too great to be coincidental, and show that either the Hymn is a genuine unity or that one poet imitated the other—the two parts can never have been wholly independent poems joined together by a third person. This means that the most economical separatist hypothesis is that one poem was composed as an addition to the other, though it is also possible that a poet composed an imitation of one hymn which was not originally intended to be joined to it. As noted above,33 most separatist critics have followed Wilamowitz in seeing P. as an addition to a preexisting D., but West has argued for the contrary.34 His main argument is that some of the parallel passages are less awkward and fit their context better in P. than in D., and so P. is likely to be the original. This applies especially to the mention of an oracle, and the 33 34

See above (pp. 62–3). West (1975).

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idea that the place’s inhabitants will be able to live off visitors’ sacrifices. The first is clearly more natural in P., and West argues that Delos does not really express concern about her inhabitants’ livelihood, only her own safety and reputation (62–78). In P., on the other hand, the Cretans naturally express concern about how they are to live, and it was a common topos that the Delphic priests lived off the offerings of pilgrims (535–7).35 These arguments have some weight, but are not really conclusive. Förstel argues that the mention of Delos feeding her inhabitants from visitors fits the emphasis on her rockiness and barrenness.36 Janko rejects West’s view as well, arguing on linguistic grounds that the Delian passages are probably prior.37 West also points out that P. does not seem designed to follow on from D.: it does not pick up on anything in D. but begins abruptly with Apollo going to Delphi.38 He is right to say that this gives the impression of an independent poem that has lost its beginning. One might then ask: if D. is designed to precede P., why does it have a clear ending? The foundation of the separatist case, as discussed above,39 is that D. is meant to end at line 178, in which case it was not composed to go before another poem. West’s answer to this is that D. was composed with P. in mind, but originally intended as an independent poem. Later another poet, or possibly the same one, joined the two poems together. West further suggests that the author of the original Delian hymn was the rhapsode Cynaethus of Chios.40 Our information about Cynaethus comes from a scholium to the first line of Pindar’s second Nemean, which states:41 ‘Homerids they called in ancient times the 35

See the references listed in AHS 264–5. Förstel (1979), 293–5 n. 14, lists his objections to West’s arguments. 37 Janko (1982), 109–12. 38 West (1975), 162. 39 Above (p. 63). 40 This seems more likely than the view of Wade-Gery (1936) that Cynaethus was the author of P. If either of the hymns is by this Chian Homerid, it must surely be D. 41 Sch. Pi. N. 2, 1c, III 29, 9–18 Dr (¼ FGrH 568 F 5): % ˇ ÅæÆ ºª e b IæåÆE f Ie F % ˇ æı ª ı , Q ŒÆd c ÅØ ÆPF KŒ ØÆåB fi q, a b ÆFÆ ŒÆd ƒ ÞÆłø fi d PŒ Ø e ª  N  O Åæ Iª . KØçÆE b Kª  ƒ æd ˚ÆØŁ, o çÆØ ººa H KH ØÆÆ K ƺE N c % ˇ æı ÅØ. q b › ˚ÆØŁ e ª  E , n ŒÆd H KتæÆç ø % ˇ æı ØÅ ø e N ººøÆ ªªæÆçg o  IÆ ŁØŒ ÆPfiH. y s › ˚ÆØŁ æH K $ıæÆŒÆØ KæÆłfiÅ a % ˇ æı Å ŒÆa c ŒŁ ! Oºı ØÆ, ‰ % IæÆ çÅØ. 36

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descendants of Homer, who also used to sing his poetry by right of succession; afterwards also the rhapsodes who no longer claimed descent from Homer (were called Homerids). Prominent became Cynaethus and his like, who are said to have interpolated many verses in the poetry of Homer. Cynaethus was Chian by origin, and he wrote, among the works attributed to Homer, the hymn to Apollo and fathered it on Homer. This Cynaethus was the first to recite Homer’s verses at Syracuse in the sixty-ninth Olympiad (504/1 BC), as Hippostratus says.’42 This date has often been rejected as too late both for the hymn’s composition and the first performance of Homer in Syracuse, but it is defended by West and Burkert.43 Hippostratus may have taken the information from some list of victors in rhapsodic contests, and we know that not long before this Hipparchus instituted Homeric recitations at the Athenian Panathenaea.44 Burkert and Janko have independently suggested a possible context for the performance of a combined Delian and Pythian hymn, which also fits the scholiast’s dating of Cynaethus.45 In 523/2 Polycrates celebrated a festival on Delos. Inquiring of the Delphic oracle whether he should call the contests Delia or Pythia, he was told ÆF Ø ŒÆd ˜ºØÆ ŒÆd —ŁØÆ (‘these are both Delian and Pythian for you’).46 Burkert suggests that this reflects Polycrates asking the oracle to endorse Delian and Pythian games. More recently,47 West combines this with his earlier theory, arguing that Cynaethus first composed the independent D. hymn in the mid-sixth century, modelling it on an earlier P. hymn, and then created the combined Hymn for Polycrates’ festival. He also altered the parts of the Hymn when combining them, and the signs of this are visible in our text. In order to please his Samian patron, he increased Hera’s role by inserting the Typhaon episode in P. (305–55), and introducing her into lines 94–114 of the D. hymn. Certainly this last passage would run more smoothly without the lines referring to Hera,48 and the joins at the start and finish of 42

Translation taken from Burkert (1979), 54. West (1975), Burkert (1979), 54–7. 44 Pl. Hipparch. 228b. 45 Burkert (1979), Janko (1982), 112–15. 46 Suda s.v. ÆF Ø . . . More detail on the sources in Burkert (1979), 59 n. 31. 47 WL 9–12. 48 At 95–6 it is awkward that we are told all the goddesses were present except Hera, and then that Eileithyia also was not present. At 95–9 the repetition of language is also difficult. Lines 97–8 state that Eileithyia had not perceived Leto’s labour 43

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the Typhaon episode are awkward.49 If Cynaethus did recite the combined Hymn at Polycrates’ festival on Delos, then this would explain why he left in the section describing the Delian festival, and omitted the beginning of P. Though West’s theory may not be correct in all its details, it does provide a plausible picture of how the Hymn we have came into being. Unitarians deny that the two parts are fully satisfactory as independent wholes, and suggest ways in which they need each other for the full completion of their themes. Miller compares the structure of the Hymn to programmes of encomiastic rhetoric, in which the subject’s origin and upbringing are followed by his or her pursuits and exploits.50 P. represents the praise of the hero’s exploits. Certainly the unified Hymn’s structure of birth followed by exploits is reasonable, but this is a basic sort of unity that could easily result from joining two hymns together. The narration of the god’s birth is a standard theme of hymns, and may or may not be followed by description of the god’s upbringing and exploits.51 For Delian hymns the birth of Apollo and/or Artemis was of course the standard subject, and a hymn narrating the god’s birth would in no sense be incomplete. A common way to follow the narration of the birth might have been to describe the current cult on Delos inspired by the birth, as D. does. From a Delian religious perspective the current festival is the true completion of the birth theme, not Apollo’s exploits elsewhere. The D. poet does in any case look forward to Apollo’s maturity by describing his miraculous growth and indicating what his main timai will be: YÅ Ø ŒŁÆæ  çºÅ ŒÆd ŒÆ ºÆ Æ j åæø ’ IŁæØØ ˜Øe Å æ Æ ıº (‘The lyre and curved bow shall ever be dear to me, and I will declare to men the unfailing will of Zeus’, 131–2). The Hymn also deals in its opening scene with the theme of a new god’s acceptance on Olympus, which often follows a god’s birth in the Hymns, and describes the favourite haunts of the mature god, culminating of course in Delos and his festival there. because she was sitting in clouds, and then the idea that this was contrived by Hera could easily be an addition. 49 At 305 the digression starts abruptly, and the shifts of subject at 354–6 are awkward. 50 Miller (1986), 6–10. 51 On the structure of the Hymns, cf. Janko (1981). On typical themes and their combinations, cf. Sowa (1984).

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Apollo’s statement at lines 131–2 has been used as evidence of the Hymn’s unity because of the emphasis it places on Apollo’s oracular role, which is in the climactic position of the passage and gets a line to itself. Is this preparation for what is in fact the Hymn’s main theme, the founding of the Delphic oracle? The mention of the lyre can also be viewed as a preparation for P.’s prologue. This is one of the better arguments for unity. However, the verses can equally well be explained along the lines already suggested, that in a birth hymn it is only by such a prophecy that the god’s mature attributes can be described.52 The three attributes mentioned are standard ones for Apollo (the same three spheres are mentioned by Callimachus at Hy. 2. 24, though he may have had our Hymn in mind) and so need no special explanation; but it has to be conceded that we might not expect so much emphasis on Apollo’s oracular role in a Delian hymn. If one part of the Hymn was composed to join the other, the Delian poet might have emphasized prophecy to link his poem to the Pythian one, and the Pythian poet might have picked up on such a line, or even inserted it himself in his combined Hymn. These last points are not arguments in favour of disunity, but show that, if we take a separatist view on other grounds, links and similarities between the two poems are compatible with this view. Indeed, this is what we might expect if most separatist theories are right in suggesting one hymn was composed as an addition to the other. The most ingenious attempt to show thematic connections between the two parts, such that each is incomplete without the other, is that of Clay. She takes lines 67–9 ºÅ ªæ Ø çÆØ IŁÆº ººøÆ j ŁÆØ, ªÆ b æıÆı  IŁÆØØ (‘They say that Apollo will be one that is very haughty and will greatly lord it among gods and men all over the fruitful earth’) to mean that Apollo is rumoured to be a threat to Zeus, whose rule on Olympus is not yet fully secure. This theme is also suggested in the opening scene on Olympus, where Apollo appears brandishing his bow and frightening the assembled gods (1–13). The theme of a threat to Zeus’ rule is also found in P., in the episode of Typhaon’s birth (305–54). Here Hera explicitly states that she wishes to bear a son who will be greater than Zeus, and Typhaon’s combat with Zeus was a familiar myth, notably in Hesiod’s Theogony (820–80). Typhaon is linked by the poet to the 52 The god’s attributes can also be mentioned in descriptions of typical activity in the opening and closing sections of the Hymns—in D. cf. 1–13, 19–24, 140–6.

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Delphic snake killed by Apollo, and hence Apollo is on the side of Zeus and the Olympians against the dangerous chthonic monsters that threaten his rule. Apollo’s establishment of his oracle is also under the aegis of Zeus, and he is the one who conveys Zeus’ will to mortals. Clay links this to Hera’s attempts to delay the birth of Apollo, and states that she is also behind Delos’ and other places’ fear of the new god: ‘the source of the malicious rumour turns out to be none other than Leto’s persecutor, Hera, no mere jealous wife, but the mother of Typho and an avowed enemy of Zeus’ cosmos’.53 As Thalmann points out, there is no evidence at all in the text for this last statement, or the link it makes between the two parts of the Hymn.54 In some other versions of Apollo’s birth (e.g. Callimachus’ Hy. 4. 55–204) it is fear of Hera’s anger that makes places reject Leto, but in the Homeric Hymn it is only after Delos agrees to be the birthplace that Hera’s opposition is mentioned. Delos states that the reason she fears Apollo is that this haughty god may despise a rocky and barren birthplace and harm her (66–78). There is no need to read into Delos’ fears about Apollo’s character the idea that he will be a threat to Zeus. This would in fact be an unlikely thing to suggest about Apollo, the most Olympian of gods and loyal son of Zeus, so would need to be stated more explicitly if it were the poet’s meaning. Delos need not mean any more than that Apollo will be a haughty and powerful god, and indeed this is how he was often portrayed in Greek art and literature.55 Even if we do understand Delos’ words as meaning Apollo is a threat to Zeus, the Delian hymn shows that the threat is negated: in its opening scene Apollo hangs up his bow and accepts a cup from Zeus, and at line 132 Apollo says that he will prophesy Zeus’ will to men. This is not a theme which is left incomplete and D. is a satisfactory independent hymn in this as in other respects. For both Clay and Miller, however, it is a central theme of the unified Hymn that Delos’ prophecy is not realized, and that Apollo’s behaviour in P. shows this. He punishes Telphousa for her pride and deceitfulness (375–87), kills a monster that was harming local people (366–74), founds his oracle to benefit and instruct mortals (247–53 ¼ 53 Clay (1989), 74. For a reading of intergenerational conflict in Apoll., which follows Clay’s approach, see in this volume Felson (Ch. 12). 54 Thalmann (1991), 145. For a more sympathetic review see Janko (1991). 55 I will return to this in more detail below (pp. 76–7).

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287–93), and finally warns the Cretan priests against hubris or impiety (537–43). Förstel, who is not a unitarian, agrees with this description of Apollo’s actions in P., but argues that the two parts of the Hymn have different conceptions of Apollo. In P. he is moral and benevolent but in D. he is ambivalent: as the opening scene shows, he is both frightening and a bringer of joy. Delos fears him, but then rejoices in his birth.56 So for Förstel there is a difference that supports a separatist view, while for Clay and Miller the difference between the (apparently) dangerous god of D. and the moral god of P. is actually a sign of unity, as it shows a thematic development. My view is that there is no development of the type posited by Clay and Miller; both sections merely depict Apollo as he is usually portrayed. Apollo is indeed a bringer of both fear and joy in D., but so he is in P. also. His actions can be seen as proud and haughty rather than just and philanthropic. He kills the snake that is an obstacle to his plans and boasts over its corpse (357–74). He punishes Telphousa (and again boasts over her) not for the sake of any abstract justice, but for attempting to deceive him and keep her shrine to herself (375–87). He is not more righteous than her, merely more powerful. Moreover, he hijacks the Cretan sailors without any regard for their own wishes, and addresses them disdainfully (531–44).57 This does not mean that Apollo’s behaviour should be condemned: it is simply how a powerful god behaves. It is misguided to see a contradiction between Apollo the Delphic lawgiver, upholder of morality and moderation, and the arbitrary power he displays in the Hymn.58 Gods are not judged by the same standards as men. Apollo’s haughtiness and his warnings to mortals against hubris are two sides of the same coin. He is the upholder of boundaries between men and gods. The Delphic maxim ªHŁØ Æı (‘know thyself ’) is a reminder to mortals that they are not gods, and it is Apollo who warns Diomedes in the Iliad: çæÇ, 'ıÅ, ŒÆd åÇ, Åb ŁEØ r’ Łº çæ Ø, Kd h  çFº › E IŁÆø  ŁH åÆ Æd Kæå ø ’ IŁæø. (Il. 5. 440–2)

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Förstel (1979), 279–80. Davies (2007), 49, vividly describes Apollo as ‘browbeating a boatload of hapless Cretan sailors, and in general calling all the shots in a pretty tyrannical fashion’. 58 Cf. Davies (1997), esp. 47 and 57–8. 57

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Take care, give back, son of Tydeus, and strive no longer to make yourself like the gods in mind, since never the same is the breed of gods, who are immortal, and men who walk groundling. (trans. Lattimore, 1951)

Similarly he refuses in the Iliad to fight Poseidon over insignificant mortals (21. 461–7) and warns Achilles not to waste his time chasing a god (22. 7–10). He sends the plague on the Achaeans at the start of the poem; he descends ‘like the night’ (ıŒd KØŒ , 1. 47) and ‘terrible was the clash that arose from the bow of silver’ (Øc b ŒºÆªªc ª ’ Iæªıæ Ø ØE, 1. 49). He destroys the Achaean wall easily, like a boy kicking over sandcastles on the seashore (15. 361–6), and strikes Patroclus with his hand, dazing him and shattering his armour (16. 788–817). In the Iliad he is a frightening and powerful god. For Clay, Apollo’s foundation of the Delphic oracle illustrates both his benevolence towards humans and his allegiance to the Olympian order presided over by Zeus. It shows that ‘as the mouthpiece of Zeus, Apollo will be a mediator between his father and mankind’.59 The oracle’s foundation is more than just the creation of a new sanctuary: as the first ever oracle, it changes the relationship between men and gods, to some extent bridging the gap between them, and making them capable of moral choice.60 The Cretan sailors, in their helplessness and ignorance of Apollo’s plans, ‘represent the helpless state of mortals before Apollo inaugurated his oracle’, but now ‘the decrees of the gods are no longer completely hidden from us.’ 61 These statements are not clearly borne out by the text. If we look at what Apollo says about his oracle, he states that it will be rich and men will bring hecatombs there from all over the Greek world and that he will give them infallible counsel (lines 247–53 ¼ 287–93). To the Cretan sailors he says that they will serve his rich temple and know the gods’ intentions; that both they and the oracle will be honoured by men for all time; and that they will be able to live on the meat from the abundant sacrifices brought there (lines 475–85, 532–7). He also warns them that if they behave hubristically they will be subjugated to new masters (lines 538–44). There is nothing in any of this about mortals now becoming capable of moral choice for the first time, an alleviation of their wretched status, or a permanent 59 60 61

Clay (1989), 44. Clay (1989), 75. Clay (1989), 80.

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change in relationships between men and gods. The hymn does not state that Delphi is the first oracle, unless 214–15 (q’ ‰ e æH åæÅæØ IŁæØØ j ÇÅø ŒÆa ªÆEÆ  Å , ŒÆÅ º’ @ºº;) is interpreted as ‘the first oracle’. Most commentators and translators prefer to take e æH as adverbial; e.g. West in his recent Loeb has ‘how you first went over the earth . . . in search of a place for your oracle for humankind’.62 Clay further suggests that the human folly and helplessness sung of by the Muses on Olympus (lines 190–3) will be ‘somewhat alleviated by the establishment of Apollo’s oracle’,63 but this is a timeless description, not one that precedes in time the oracle’s foundation— in fact in this scene Apollo goes up to Olympus from Delphi: Ł b æe Ὄºı  Ie åŁe u  Å Æ j rØ ˜Øe æe H Æ ŁH Ł’ › ªıæØ ¼ººø (‘Thence [from Pytho], swift as thought, he speeds from earth to Olympus, to the house of Zeus’, 186–7). The human condition the Muses sing of is not something changed by the oracle, it is how things are. To suffer and be ignorant, to grow old and die, is what it means to be a mortal and not a god. An oracle does grant humans some knowledge of the divine will, but many stories about oracles stress how cryptic and ambiguous this communication is. As I have argued above, Apollo is the god who preserves the gap between gods and mortals rather than seeking to diminish it. The Cretans are indeed typical humans in their difficulty in recognizing the god who appears to them and their worries about the future, but this is not something that has been alleviated because of the oracle’s establishment—it is normal in stories about a god’s epiphany. P. does emphasize that the oracle is founded ‘for mankind’ (248, 288), but this need not be seen as purely benevolent. There is at least as much emphasis on the benefits for Apollo himself: humans will come in crowds bringing him perfect hecatombs (lines 249–50 ¼ 288–9, 366, 535–6); his temple will be rich and honoured by all men (lines 478–9, 522–3). After punishing Telphousa, Apollo says to her KŁ c ŒÆd K e Œº  ÆØ, Pb e YÅ (‘I am going to be renowned here, not you alone’, 381). Olympian gods are not disinterested benefactors of humankind: they desire to receive honours 62 Miller (1986), 71 n. 182, also argues for the adverbial meaning of e æH here. The poet emphasizes a concern with the origins of the oracle, not its primacy relative to other oracles. 63 Clay (1989), 55–6. Similar ideas in Miller (1979), 74, and Förstel (1979), 233.

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from mortals, and the relationship is a reciprocal one. Apollo will tell men the divine will, but in return he will receive more honour and more sacrifices. Clay also stresses that the Hymn depicts Delphi as a purely Olympian foundation, and shows Apollo to be the loyal son of Zeus and champion of the Olympian regime. She argues that the poet suppresses the myth of the previous owners at Delphi because he wants to portray it as a purely Apolline and Olympian foundation, and stress the Olympian and male at the expense of the chthonic and female.64 This also accounts for the absence of the female Pythia from the Hymn, and the depictions of Apollo’s victory over a female snake, and by association over Typhaon and his mother Hera, who is hostile to the patriarchal Olympian order. I have discussed these issues more fully elsewhere,65 and made the objection that on this view it seems illogical for the poet to suppress the previous (chthonic, female) owners of Delphi; if he wishes to show Apollo’s superiority, why not depict his victory over them explicitly? It seems more likely that we have here an earlier variant of the dragon combat, in which the snake is merely a menace to the local population, and not a guardian of Earth’s oracle. Clay regards the longer Hymns as a genre that is unified by content rather than by structure or language.66 In her view the Hymns fill a gap between Hesiod’s Theogony, which depicts the conflicts of the older gods and Zeus’ rise to power, and the settled Olympian pantheon of Homeric epic, where Zeus’ supremacy is assured and conflicts between gods are confined to squabbling. The Hymns tell how this ordered Olympian hierarchy was formed, and also how relations between men and gods came to be as they are. Each Hymn therefore describes a crisis point on Olympus, whose solution leads to ‘an epoch-making moment’, a ‘new era in the divine and human cosmos’; and all this is planned and controlled by Zeus, who distributes to the gods their timai. ‘In the final analysis, the politics of Olympus are the politics of Zeus.’ 67 In the Hymn to Apollo the crisis 64 As discussed above (p. 77), Clay also takes the absence of previous owners as a mark of the Hymn’s Panhellenic orientation, stressing the Olympian over local mythology. 65 Chappell (2006). 66 Clay (1989), 6–16, 267–70, and this volume (Ch. 11). For some good criticisms of this view, see Thalmann (1991). 67 Clay (1989), 268.

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is the threat the new male god may pose to Zeus, whose loyal son he proves to be. The founding of the oracle demonstrates this loyalty, and also inaugurates a new order between men and gods. In my discussion above, I have argued against the view that the Hymn depicts any atmosphere of crisis around Apollo’s birth or ever suggests that he is a threat to Zeus, and have also argued that there is no suggestion in the text that the foundation of Delphi fundamentally changes the relationship of men and gods. Zeus’ supremacy and plans are certainly important in the long Hymns to Demeter, Hermes, and Aphrodite, but seem less so in the Hymn to Apollo. Rutherford has argued that the main difference between Pindar’s depiction of Apollo’s birth on Delos and the Homeric Hymn’s is the greater role that the former gives to Zeus.68 Nor is the role of Zeus at Delphi greatly stressed in P., compared to many Delphic hymns and other poems.69 It is only in D., at line 132, that Apollo explicitly states that he will prophesy to men the ‘infallible will of Zeus’ (˜Øe Å æ Æ ıº). In P. Apollo states that he will declare the ‘infallible will’ (Å æ Æ ıº, 252 ¼ 292), but without mentioning Zeus. When talking about the oracle to the Cretan sailors he again makes no mention of Zeus except to introduce himself as Zeus’ son Apollo, and he tells the Cretans that they will know the ‘gods’ intentions’ ( ıº ’ IŁÆø, 484), not the will of Zeus specifically. Other than this, Zeus is only mentioned in the opening scene, approving of his son (205), and in conventional phrases referring to the weather such as ˜Øe hæø fi (‘the breeze from Zeus’, 427) and KŒ ˜Øe ÆYÅ (‘by ordinance of Zeus’, 433).70 Overall, the attempts to demonstrate the Hymn to Apollo’s coherence and thematic unity are in my opinion unconvincing, and the arguments in favour of its division are stronger. As I have argued above, Clay’s argument that the two halves are linked by the theme of Apollo being a possible threat to Zeus who turns out to be his loyal supporter and combats the chthonic female enemies of Olympus rests on assumptions and connections that are not evident in the text (notably her assertion that the Typhaon episode somehow shows 68

Rutherford (1988). e.g. Herm. 469–72, 531–40, Alc. fr. 307c Voigt ap. Him., Or. 48 (2. 1 in Furley and Bremer 2001), A. Eu. 17–19, 616–18. 70 Miller (1986), 97 and Clay (1989), 82 view these mentions of Zeus as stressing his important role in the process, but they are too unemphatic and conventional for that. 69

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that Hera was behind the rumour cited by Delos that Apollo would be a violent and lawless god). The two parts have no strong thematic connection other than the basic idea of a god’s birth followed by exploits, which could easily have resulted from the joining together of two originally independent hymns. There is no real evidence for Panhellenism in the two parts; it is true that the combined Hymn can be seen as Panhellenic in dealing with both Delos and Delphi, but I have argued that this Panhellenizing combination of nonPanhellenic parts actually fits better a separatist view of the hymn’s genesis. Like the other Homeric Hymns, the concerns of D. and P. are mainly aetiological. D. tells how the god himself came into being, and hence the cult on Delos which is depicted in the Hymn’s closing section; and P. describes the origin of Delphi and its priests, and of the cult titles Pythios, Telphousios, and Delphinios.

5 The Homeric Hymn to Hermes Humour and Epiphany Athanassios Vergados

Scholars often remark on how the Homeric Hymn to Hermes differs from the rest of the major Hymns in its unusual diction and narrative style, as well as in its humorous treatment of the gods.1 An unusual feature that has not yet received sufficient attention is this: contrary to the rest of the major Homeric Hymns, Hermes lacks a narrated epiphany. The god’s epiphany seems to be a regular component of the rhapsodic hymn and follows a pattern that has been set out in detail by D. Turkeltaub.2 In all the other major Hymns (as well as the seventh Hymn to Dionysus), at some point in the narrative the celebrated god reveals his or her divine identity to mortals. After Apollo appears as a dolphin and a star in broad daylight in the Hymn to Apollo (400, 440–5), the god assumes the form of an ephebe 1 See for instance WL 12: ‘The Hymn to Hermes (4) is distinctive in other ways. Of all the earlier Greek hexameter poems, it is without doubt the most amusing. It is also the most untraditional in its language, with many late words and expressions, and many used in slapdash and inaccurate ways; and it is the most incompetent in construction, with many narrative inconsistencies and redundancies and no command of the even tempo appropriate to epic storytelling.’ Richardson (2007), 85, relates the poem’s unusual diction and narrative style to its humour. See also Richardson (2010), 19–20, 23–4. 2 See Turkeltaub (2003), 16–50, for the general overview of the Homeric epiphany scene-pattern, and 51–122 for its instantiation in the Homeric Hymns. See also Kullmann (1956), 83–111, Richardson (1974), 207–8, Bremer (1975), 1–12, Sowa (1984), 236–72.

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(449–50) and declares: N d ! Kªg ˜Øe ıƒ , ººø ! hå ÆØ rÆØ (‘I am the son of Zeus, and declare that I am Apollo’, 480).3 Similarly, in the seventh Hymn, Dionysus makes his presence manifest, as fragrant wine flows in the pirates’ ship (35–7), a vine and ivy grow on the mast (38–41), and the oar-pins are all crowned with garlands (42). In addition, the god transforms himself into a lion (44–5).4 All the pirates jump frightened into the sea and are transformed into dolphins, but the god spares the helmsman who was the only one to acknowledge Dionysus’ divine identity from the very beginning, when the pirates’ bonds fell onto the ground (15–24; cf. 46).5 Dionysus bids the helmsman not to fear him and reveals his divinity (56–7): N d ! Kªg ˜Øı Kæ æ  n  Œ Åæ j ˚Æ ÅU $ ºÅ ˜Øe K çغÅØ ØªEÆ (‘I am loud-roaring Dionysus, whom Cadmus’ daughter, Semele, bore, after mingling in love with Zeus’). In Aphrodite the goddess of love assumes her divine form before Anchises: her head reaches the roof-beam, and divine beauty radiates from her cheeks (172–9); she then explicitly announces her identity (285–6). Finally, Demeter has two epiphanies in her Hymn. The poet first narrates her partial epiphany: when the goddess enters Celeus’ palace, her head reaches the roof-beam while the doors are filled with divine radiance (188–9). But it is later that the audience experience Demeter’s full epiphany when she reveals her identity (N d b ˜Å Åæ Ø å . . . , ‘And I am Demeter, the honoured one . . . ’, 268). Shortly thereafter she assumes her proper form, filling the palace with radiance and a divine fragrance (268–80).6 Despite the absence of a full epiphany in Hermes, the poet uses motifs that are typically associated with divine presence, while some of the stages of the typical Homeric epiphany scene do occur in the poem. After stealing fifty of Apollo’s cows at Pieria, Hermes leads 3

All translations are mine unless otherwise noted. On epiphany in Hy. 7, see in this volume Jaillard (Ch. 7). Lines 45–7 mention the appearance of a bear in the midst of the ship, while the god’s actions are collectively labelled  ÆÆ. However, this section is possibly interpolated; see Sparshott (1963). For fear as a reaction to a divine epiphany, cf. Hy. 19. 38–9 with Thomas in this volume (p. 162). 5 Interestingly, a similar miracle occurs at Herm. 409–14: Apollo attempts to bind Hermes with withies, but the bonds fall to the ground, take root, and bind the cows instead; see Kuiper (1910) 43–4, Baudy (1989), and Vergados (forthcoming) ad 409–14. 6 The epiphany scene in Dem. probably depends on the similar scene in Aphr.; see Faulkner (2008), 38–40 on the relation between the two poems, and Sowa (1984), 243. 4

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them backwards to the Peloponnese. At Onchestus in Boeotia he encounters an Old Man working on his vineyard whom he insults and to whom he gives instructions (90–3). Later in the Hymn, Apollo somehow becomes aware of the Old Man’s presence and travels to Onchestus to interrogate him about his stolen cattle (184–200).7 Hermes’ shining eyes are mentioned (278, 415–16), as is the divine fragrance and the divine footprint motif (231–2, 237, 342–3), while Hermes’ actions cause helplessness and wonderment to their observer.8 It is noteworthy that some of these epiphanic motifs are not perceived by (or focalized through) a mortal, but rather Apollo. Thus it is Apollo who finds himself perplexed by Hermes’ tricks: at 196 he admits to the Old Man his wonderment at the fact that the cows disappeared while the bull and the four watchdogs remained in the field.9 At 219 he exclaims t Ø, q ªÆ ŁÆF Æ ! OçŁÆº EØ ›æH ÆØ, ‘Alas, what I see with my eyes is a great wonder indeed’, a phrase elsewhere found in archaic hexameter in contexts where a mortal observes the effects of a god’s workings.10 At 407 Apollo admires Hermes’ power (ŁÆı Æø ŒÆØŁ e e Œæ , ‘I wonder at your future power’). After Hermes manages to 7 For the insult motif, see Turkeltaub (2003), 33; for instructions to a mortal as a typical occurrence during divine revelation, see Richardson (1974), 242–4, Turkeltaub (2003), 27. Apollo’s encounter with the Old Man is also to some extent reminiscent of motifs typically found in epiphany scenes: the god notices the Old Man and attempts to convince him to provide information that will help him recover his lost cattle; see Turkeltaub (2003), 19, 24. The Old Man’s answer to Apollo’s request for information is also noteworthy. It is clear that he thought his encounter with Hermes extraordinary (a talking infant was leading fifty backwards-marching cows!). One might have expected the Old Man to realize that he had encountered a god, and perhaps the poet is playing with audience expectations at this point. The Old Man’s failure to perceive Hermes’ divine nature confirms the validity of the god’s insult to the Old Man (see also below n. 23). It is Apollo who, combining the information provided by the Old Man, the bird omen he receives at 213, and his observation of the footprints at 342–3, perceives the thief ’s divine identity. 8 Herm. 342–3 (a ! ¼æ! YåØÆ Øa  ºøæÆ j x ! IªÆŁÆØ ŒÆd IªÆıF Æ  æªÆ, ‘the tracks were of two kinds, monstrous, such as to cause amazement, and the deeds of a mighty spirit’). At Il. 13. 68–75 Poseidon’s divinity is recognized from his YåØÆ . . . H Mb ŒÅ ø (‘the marks of his feet . . . and shins’); cf. Sowa (1984), 247–50. 9 The passivity of the watchdogs may be a further hint at divinity: at Od. 16. 162–3 the dogs at Eumaeus’ hut perceive Athena and do not bark at her but flee instead. 10 Cf. Il. 15. 286, 20. 344, Od. 19. 36. Words related to ŁÆF Æ or Ł  often express the observer’s reaction to a divine epiphany; cf. Pfister (1924), 317, Bremer (1975), 2 n. 2, Turkeltaub (2003), 31–2, Jaillard (2007), 83.

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escape from Apollo’s bonds, the latter ŁÆ Æ IŁæÆ (414; ‘[he] saw and wondered). And finally at 455 Apollo expresses his admiration for Hermes’ music (ŁÆı Çø ˜Øe ıƒb ! ‰ KæÆe ŒØŁÆæÇØ , ‘I admire, son of Zeus, how beautifully you sing these things to the lyre’). In his speech to Zeus Apollo remarks on Hermes’ strange footprints, which appear to him to be x  ! IªÆŁÆØ ŒÆd IªÆıF Æ  æªÆ (‘such as to cause amazement, and the deeds of a mighty spirit’, 343). Moreover, the divine fragrance motif is mentioned when Apollo bursts into Maia’s cave searching for his cattle: an O c ƒ æÆ (‘a charming fragrance’) wafts around Cyllene (231– 2), while, at the sight of Apollo, Hermes dons his æªÆÆ ŁıÆ (‘his fragrant swaddling clothes’, 237).11 Finally, there are several references to Hermes’ shining eyes during his encounter with Apollo: after his first defence speech, Hermes ‘casts many sparking glances from his brows’ (ıŒe Ie ºçæø I Ææø, 278), while at 415–16 he attempts to conceal his radiant look from Apollo (åHæ  ºÅ KŒ łÆ Fæ I Ææ j KªŒæłÆØ  Æ , ‘he surveyed the area with his eyes downcast, eager to hide the darting fire [sc. from his eyes]’).12 Yet these motifs do not lead to an epiphanic moment. Indeed neither Hermes nor Apollo makes the slightest attempt to disguise themselves before they appear to the Old Man at Onchestus, even though elsewhere in the Hymns the gods take on disguises (e.g. at Apoll. 400 where the god appears to the Cretan sailors as a dolphin, or Dem. 101 where the goddess arrives at Eleusis with the appearance of an old woman). This absence of a proper divine epiphany is particularly striking, given that Hermes conforms to the general pattern found in the longer Hymns. The Er-Stil that dominates the narrative of rhapsodic hymns switches to the Du-Stil that is typical of the hymnal envoi and implies the addressee’s (¼ the god’s) presence at the end of the poem. In other words, the narrative of the god’s story effects his or her epiphany to the audience and ideally also his or her blessing of that 11 On this motif, see Lohmeyer (1919), 4–14, Deonna (1939), Lilja (1972), 25–30, Meloni (1975), 12–14. In Herm. this motif is used playfully: at 232 the poet adds, ººa b BºÆ ÆÆÆ Œ Å (‘and numerous long-shanked sheep were grazing the grass’). And of course one cannot expect a baby’s diapers to be fragrant! 12 The poet of Herm. correlates the god’s radiant look with his inventiveness; cf. the simile at 43–6. On Herm. 415, see Vergados (forthcoming) ad loc. For radiance as a motif associated with divine presence, see Keyssner (1932), 150, Bremer (1975), 5 and 7, Dietrich (1983), 68, Turkeltaub (2003), 137.

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community.13 Hermes forms no exception to this pattern. After a proem that partly announces the Hymn’s subject, we pass to the pars epica, which presents the god’s birth story and first achievements in either third person narrative or direct speech. Lines 579–80 switch to the second person, asking the god to rejoice in the song just completed, and this second person implies Hermes’ presence at the performance. But why is it that in the other longer Hymns the god’s perceived presence (and consequently the shift from Er- to Du-Stil) is effected after the god’s epiphany has been narrated in the pars epica, while in the case of Hermes. such narrated epiphany never occurs?14 The peculiar treatment of Hermes’ epiphany in the fourth Homeric Hymn can be explained if we consider the mode of this god’s presentation in early Greek literature. Hermes often appears in situations that involve humour and comedy: examples of such presentation can be found in the Odyssey, the Homeric Hymn to Pan, the fragments of Hipponax, and Old Comedy. When an epiphany of Hermes does occur (as for instance his epiphany to Priam in Iliad 24), it is not presented in the grandiose fashion of the typical hymnic epiphanies. This can be accounted for by Hermes’ nature as a trickster figure who operates with metis (cunning) and stealth. The poet of Hermes effects Hermes’ epiphany with similar stealth: instead of being explicitly narrated (as in the other major Hymns), Hermes’ epiphany is enacted in performance. The poet achieves this in two ways. First, by narrating an extremely humorous tale, he elicits from his audience (the Hymn’s external audience) the same reaction that Hermes’ actions cause to his own addressees (the Hymn’s internal audience, viz. Apollo and Zeus), i.e. laughter (cf. 281, 389, 420). And, second, by narrating how the god invented objects and institutions familiar to 13 For the structure of the Homeric Hymns, see Janko (1981), and Calame in this volume (Ch. 14) who speaks of evocationes, epicae laudes, and preces. For the Hymns as staging the god’s epiphany ‘insofar as they represent the performer(s), as well as the group for whom he speaks, as “remembering”, or “singing” the god, which is to say, bringing the god into the context of the performance to offer him a verbal agalma’, see Depew (2000), esp. 73–4; further Danielewicz (1976), 116–19, García (2002), esp. 28–34, for whom the ‘exclamation åÆEæ . . . [is] the singer’s welcome at the arriving god’ (33), and in this volume Thomas (p. 164). Bierl (2004), 45, points out that ‘the Homeric Hymns often seem to be songs about the advent of a god.’ See Furley and Bremer (2001), i. 61 for the use of second-person imperatives that signal the desire for the god’s advent. 14 Apoll. does not entirely conform to this norm either, as it moves much more freely from Du- to Er-Stil than the other longer Homeric Hymns.

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the audience from their everyday experience (some of which are necessary for, or otherwise tied to, the poem’s very performance), the poet intimates Hermes’ constant presence in the audience’s life.15 This last strategy is of course not peculiar to Hermes. But, as I hope to show in what follows, the poet of Hermes takes this strategy to an extreme by presenting the celebrated god as the inventor par excellence, with whom he identifies himself.

HERMES AND HUMOUR The Homeric Hymn to Hermes is extremely witty and humorous as is appropriate for a poem that celebrates a trickster figure.16 Even though the other Homeric Hymns occasionally reveal humorous moments,17 Hermes’ divine persona is especially amusing, and it would perhaps not be an exaggeration to speak of a tradition of Hermes’ presentation in poetry that involves humour and laughter.18 Epic poetry furnishes examples for this aspect of Hermes’ divine persona. In the second song of Demodocus (Od. 8. 266–366) the male gods have gathered around Hephaestus’ bed and witness the lame god’s craftiness in how he was able to trap Ares and Aphrodite.19 Apollo asks Hermes: % Eæ Æ, ˜Øe ıƒ , ØŒæ, Hæ ø q Þ Œ K  E! KŁ ºØ ŒæÆæEØ ØŁ oØ K º ŒæØØ Ææa åæı fi Å çæfiÅ (Od. 8. 335–7) 15 Hermes’ stealthy presence was well-understood by Callimachus; cf. Vergados (forthcoming), Introduction IV B } 13–17. For the reception of the Homeric Hymns in Hellenistic literature, see Faulkner in this volume (Ch. 9). 16 The comical dimension of the poem was already noted by Eitrem (1906), 248, who remarked, ‘At first sight, the entire Hymn appears to contain very few religious elements; the tone is playfully light, full of humour and jugglery; the divine babe is conceived of as a mischievous Greek youth who deceives his elders, and especially his closest kin in order to have fun and pave the way for himself; [Hermes is presented as] divinely gifted and puerile to the extent of scurrility’ (my translation; emphasis in the original). Schneidewin (1848), 663 had spoken of the ‘roguish poet’ who composed this Hymn. Cf. further Bielohlawek (1930), 203–9, Sikes (1940), 123, and Otto (1987), 142, 315, who calls Hermes a Schelm (‘rogue’). 17 See in this volume Clay (pp. 245–6). 18 See Nesselrath (2010), 147–9, for a brief overview of Hermes’ presence in earlier literature. 19 For more on this episode, see in this volume Clay (pp. 249–50).

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Hermes, son of Zeus, conveyer, giver of good gifts, would you wish to lie in bed beside golden Aphrodite, pressed by strong bonds?

To this the divine messenger replies: ÆD ªaæ F ª Ø, ¼Æ ŒÆÅ º! @ºº.  d b æd Ø Iæ I çd åØ,  E ! Næø fi  Łd AÆ  Ł ÆØÆØ, ÆPaæ Kªg oØ Ø Ææa åæı fi Å çæfiÅ (Od. 8. 339–42) I wish that this would happen, lord Far-shooter Apollo. Even if thrice as many inescapable bonds should hold me, and both you gods and all the goddesses should look upon me, nevertheless I would lie beside golden Aphrodite.

This answer causes the by-standing gods to laugh (343 S çÆ! , K b ª ºø tæ! IŁÆØØ ŁEØ; ‘Thus he spoke and laughter arose among the immortal gods’).20 In addition, there is a strong connection between Hermes and the iambic poets. The plot of Hermes bears some similarities to the story about Archilochus of Paros, transmitted in the Mnesiepes inscription. I quote the relevant passage (E1II. 22–40) with the translation from Clay (2004),21 and underline those words and phrases which resemble the story of Hermes:22 º ªıØ ªaæ æåºå Ø æ ZÆ  çŁ Æ e F Ææe 'ºØŒº ı N Iªæ, N e B , n ŒÆºEÆØ ¸Ø H , [u] F ŒÆƪƪE N æAØ, IÆÆ æøØÆæ B ıŒ , ºÅ ºÆ Å , _ ªØ c F N ºØ· _ [¼] ‰ ! Kª  ŒÆa e _ [], n ŒÆºEÆØ ¸Ø , ÆØ ªıÆEŒÆ [N]E ±ŁæÆ ·  ÆÆ ! Ie H æªø IØ ÆØ _ N ºØ æºŁÆ ŒØ. a b ÆPa _  ÆŁÆØ ÆPe a ÆØØA ŒÆd ª ºø ŒÆd _ _ æøBÆØ, N øºø _ _ c F· çÆ  , [K] ¼ªØ _

25

30

20 For the significance of laughter in this scene, see Brown (1989), 290–1, Halliwell (2008), 77–8. Notice too that in Hy. 19. 44–6, Hermes causes joy to the Olympians by showing them his newborn son Pan. Cf. also Hermes’ words at Il. 21. 497–501. 21 See Clay (2004), 104, with bibliography on the inscription (SEG 15. 517). 22 Some of the similarities between the Mnesiepes inscription and Hermes have already been pointed out by the first editor, N. Kontoleon (1952), 64–7; cf. Peek (1959) who rejected these similarities and Kambylis (1963), 143, who acknowledged only a general resemblance between the two texts. See also Compton (2006), 41–3.

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[N]E ‹Ø ÆPÆd ıØ ÆPfiH Ø c IÆ· [ÞÅ]Ł ø b ø ÆPa b Pb c F PŒ Ø _ æe H H b ºæÆ ›æA ÆP· [ç]Ææa rÆØ, 35 [ŒÆ]ƺƪ Æ b ŒÆd  ØÆ åæ ı [ª]  ºÆ E a )Æ rÆØ a çÆÆ _ ºæÆ ÆPfiH øæÅÆ Æ ŒÆd Iº[ŒÆ]d [ ]_  ÆPc æŁÆØ N ºØ ŒÆd fiH Ææd [a]_ ª Æ źHÆØ. 40 _ They recount that Archilochus, when he was still a young man, was sent by his father Telesikles to the fields, to the district called the Meadows (Leimones), to bring a heifer down for sale. He got up at night before sunrise, while the moon was still bright, to lead the heifer to the city. As he came to the place called Slippery Rocks, they say that he thought he saw a group of women. And since he thought that they were leaving work for the city, he approached them and made fun of them. But they greeted him with good humour and laughter, and asked him if he intended to sell the cow he had in tow. When he answered that he did, they said that they would give him a good price. But, once they had said this, neither they nor the heifer could be seen, but lying before his feet he saw a lyre. He was dumbfounded and, after he had the time to regain his wits, he realized that the women who had appeared to him were the Muses and it was they who had given him the gift of the lyre. And he picked up the lyre and went to the city and told his father what had happened.

In both stories, the protagonist is young. The events involve cows: Hermes steals fifty of Apollo’s cows, while Archilochus is sent by his father to sell a cow. The events occur at night (cf. Mnesiepes inscription E1II. 26  Hermes 99  b   ŒØc æ Æ EÆ $ºÅ, ‘the divine Moon had just reached her look-out point’, and 141 ŒÆºe b çø ŒÆ ºÆ  $ºÅ , ‘and the moon’s beautiful light was shining down upon him’). Both protagonists meet characters whom they mock,23 while both stories involve the exchange of a cow (or 23

This is termed ŒØ in the Mnesiepes inscription. We may compare Hermes’ cryptic address to the Old Man at 90–3: t ª æ, ‹  çıa ŒØ KØŒÆ ºÆ ŒAºÆ, j q ºıØØ s! i  Æ ç æfiÅØ·j ŒÆ  Ng c Ng rÆØ ŒÆd Œøçe IŒÆ , j ŒÆd تA, ‹  Ø ŒÆÆ ºfiÅ e e ÆPF (‘Old man who digs these curved logs as if they were plants, indeed you will obtain lots of wine when all these produce [i.e. never!]; thus be blind though you have seen and deaf though you have heard, and be silent since your own affairs are not harmed’). In 90 I adopt ŒAºÆ with AS and Radermacher (1931). The manuscripts are here divided: * transmits KØŒÆ º þ ı while M offers the unmetrical KØŒÆ ºÆ ºÆ, where

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cows) for a lyre: the price of the lyre is mentioned (in the inscription the lyre is Ø c IÆ [sc. B  ], ‘a good price’, while at Herm. 437 Apollo exclaims after Hermes’ second song: ŒÆ H IØÆ ÆFÆ ÅºÆ , ‘this song you have contrived is worthy of fifty cows’). Both stories, furthermore, mention the meadows (ºØ H ), and both protagonists have a relation to the Muses (Archilochus receives a lyre from them; cf. Herm. 429 where Mnemosyne is said to be the patron goddess of Hermes).24 This type of tale derives from a folk-tale tradition that is also reflected in Hesiod’s Dichterweihe at the outset of the Theogony.25 But Hermes and the Mnesiepes inscription differ from Hesiod’s narrative in that both Hermes and Archilochus’ stories take place at night instead of high noon, the usual time of a Dichterweihe,26 while the lyre in both texts is said to be a worthy price for the animal (or animals); such a comment is missing from the Hesiodic account where the Muses do not present the poet with a musical instrument. Furthermore, in both texts the narrative is presented by a third person (an ‘objective’ narrator) and not by the character who experienced the encounter with the Muses. And finally, the protagonists poke fun at deities related to poetry and song (cf. E1II. 33 and Hermes 75–8, 261–80, 294–8, 464–74). In addition to this general similarity of plot between some of Hermes’ Œºıa æªÆ (‘glorious deeds’) in Hermes and Archilochus’ encounter with the Muses as preserved in the Mnesiepes inscription, Hermes enjoys a conspicuous presence in the admittedly scanty remains of Hipponax’s poetry.27 The iambic poet prays to Hermes, asking for boots and a cloak to protect himself from cold:

ºÆ must be a gloss for ŒAºÆ that made it into the text (KØŒÆ ºÆ ŒAºÆ recurs at Hes. Op. 427 at a different sedes); see my discussion in Vergados (forthcoming), ad loc. With these words Hermes suggests that the Old Man’s toil is in vain (90–1, he is digging worthless logs that will never produce anything) and bids him to continue his thoughtless existence (92–3); these words are surely cryptic and manipulate proverbial wisdom; see Clay (1989), 115, and Tzifopoulos (2000), esp. 154–8. 24 For Hermes’ songs, see in this volume Calame (pp. 348–50). 25 Dichterweihe denotes the poet’s call to his art by a divinity (or divinities) who introduce(s) him to poetry and inspire(s) his song. On the Dichterweihe theme, see Kambylis (1965) and West (1966), 159–61. 26 See Kambylis (1965), 59–61. 27 Walcot (1979), 347–8, notes some similarities between Hermes and iambic poetry.

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% Eæ B, çº! % Eæ B, )ÆØÆF, ˚ıººØ, Kå Æ Ø, ŒæÆ ªaæ ŒÆŒH ÞتH ŒÆd Æ ÆºÇø . . . e åºÆEÆ % IÆŒØ ŒÆd ŒıÆŒ ŒÆd Æ ÆºŒÆ ŒIŒæŒÆ ŒÆd åæıF ÆBæÆ ŒÆ P æı åı (Hippon. fr. 32, IEG) Hermes, dear Hermes, Maia’s puppy, Cyllenian, I solemnly pray to you; for I tremble rather badly and chatter . . . give a cloak to Hipponax, and a small woollen undergarment and little shoes and little boots and sixty stateres of gold from the other side of the wall.28

This fragment is a parody of a prayer which begins with an emphatic invocation of the god: Hermes is invoked twice, the second time as çº (‘friend’), as if the speaker were addressing an equal and not a god. Furthermore, Kå ÆØ (‘I solemnly pray’), a word that belongs to high poetry, is followed by a request that concerns rather prosaic matters and is expressed in low diction.29 The final part of the request (golden stateres P æı åı, ‘from the other side of the wall’) may strike one as somewhat unexpected since all the items in the list are pieces of clothing. But it will be remembered that Hermes was also the god of burglars: in Hermes the god himself declares his intention to break into Apollo’s temple at Delphi to steal gold, silver, iron, and other valuable possessions (176–81). Thus it is reasonable for Hipponax to ask Hermes for gold that is found on the other side of the wall (i.e. in someone else’s house).30 The persona loquens also invokes 28 On this fragment see De Sousa Medeiros (1961), 16–18, Degani (2007), 99–102. The iambographer deflates motifs typically attested in hymnic invocations: )ÆØÆF recalls the god’s parentage, but its formation is comic as Degani (2007), 100 has shown: it consists of the suffix -Å /-(Ø)Å found in epic patronymics (e.g. —źŜÅ , æÅ ) to which the ending - is attached, a combination found only in nouns derived from animal names (e.g. IºøŒØ , ªÆºØ , ºÆæªØ ). Degani accordingly renders ‘cucciolo di Maia’, i.e. Maia’s puppy; see also Degani (2002), 189–91. Acosta-Hughes (2002), 71–2 n. 6, detects in this fragment an allusion to the opening of Hermes and draws our attention to the ‘juxtaposition of genres’ present in both the Hipponax fragment and Hermes. 29 For KåŁÆØ in high poetry, cf. Il. 5. 119, 16. 829, 17. 35, 17. 450, 21. 121, Od. 14. 423, 22. 286, 23. 59, Apoll. 370, Thgn. 358, 944, A. Sept. 276, Ag. 501, Cho. 856, Eu. 58, Soph. Trach. 809, OT 249, OC 484, Eur. IT 508 etc. For the low diction of Hipponax’s prosaic request, cf. the onomatopoeic Æ ÆºÇø (‘chatter, stammer’) and the diminutives ŒıÆŒ (‘small woollen undergarment’), Æ ÆºŒÆ (‘little shoes’), IŒæŒÆ (‘little boots’) which have a colloquial tinge. 30 Degani (2007), 102, rendering ‘nell’altro piatto della bilancia’ (‘in the other of the scales’), sees here a reference to Hermes as the god of weights and measures, based

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Hermes at Hipponax fr. 3a IEG: % Eæ B ŒıªåÆ, fi ÅØd ˚ÆÆFºÆ, j çøæH ÆEæ, Fæ Ø ŒÆÆæFÆØ (‘Hermes, dog-choker, Kandaula in the Maeonian dialect, companion of the thieves, come hither to help me out’).31 The fragment reflects Hermes’ role as the enemy of watchdogs and the leader of thieves (cf. Herm. 175, 292; 194–6). A promise to invoke Hermes occurs at Hipponax fr. 35 IEG (Kæ ø ªaæ oø˙ ‘˚ıººØ )ÆØ % Eæ B’; ‘for I shall speak thus: “Cyllenian Hermes, son of Maia”’). The beginning of this verse is iambic, but its end dactylic (cf. Herm. 408 ˚ıººØ )ÆØ ıƒ ).32 Furthermore, Boupalos is said to have called on Hermes at Hipponax fr. 3 IEG ( ø )ÆÅ ÆEÆ, ˚ıººÅ º ı, ‘he called on Maia’s son, the ruler of Cyllene’),33 while at fr. 177 IEG the speaker addresses Hermes as the god associated with sleep (% Eæ B ŒÆæ, <f ªÆæ> (Meineke— West) Œı rÆ KªæØ, ‘Blessed Hermes, for you know how to rise someone from his sleep’; cf. Herm. 15, 290). It is worth stressing once more that in all these fragments of Hipponax Hermes is mentioned in contexts that are reminiscent of

on the interlinear F æ æı; but cf. Masson (1962), 124 n. 2, who considers this a deterioration of the text and not a gloss; so De Sousa Medeiros (1961), 20, West (1974), 29. Masson (1962), 124 n. 3, appears sceptical of the idea of ØåøæıåÆ, while Fränkel (1993), 248, translates ‘von der inneren Wand’ (‘from the interior wall’), linking Hipponax’s request to Hermes’ function as the patron of thieves. Hippon. fr. 34 (K d ªaæ PŒ øŒÆ h Œø åºÆEÆ j ÆEÆ K åØ HØ çæ ÆŒ Þª j h’ IŒ æfiÅØ f Æ Æfi ÅØ j ŒæıłÆ , u Ø c å ºÆ ÞªıÆØ, ‘for you did not give me yet a thick cloak to be my defence against cold in the winter, nor did you hide my feet in thick boots, so that I don’t catch chilblains’) may imply either that Hermes did not grant Hipponax his wish or may function as a justification for why Hermes ought to provide these objects to the poet (i.e. you have not provided them to me in the past, at least do so now). 31 For ŒÆÆæFÆØ, see LSJ s.v. ŒÆæø, who refer to Tzetzes ap. Analect. Oxon. 3.351 (where it is glossed ı ÆåBÆØ); but cf. Hsch.  855 ŒÆÆæFÆØ, ºØæBÆØ. There is something distinctly incongruous in the juxtaposition of the iambic poet’s ‘learnedness’ (including a foreign gloss in an invocation of Hermes as the patron of thieves) in a verse that ends in the rather prosaic ŒÆÆæFÆØ; see Fränkel (1993), 247. 32 Note that we do find traces of hexameters in Hipponax’s fragments; e.g. possibly fr. 23 IEG f ¼æÆ ı OÅ {ØƺºØæØØÆ{, where Masson (1962), ad loc., and Degani (2007), 84, accept Bergk’s OÅ ! ØƺE Þتź. On the presence of dactyls among the choliambs in Hipponax, see Masson (1962), 26–7. Of course, there are purely parodic hexameters among Hipponax’s fragments—cf. fr. 128–9a IEG; see also West (1974), 30, Degani (2002), 217 n. 96, Carey (2009), 163–5. 33 For the identity of the speaker, see Degani (2007), 79. Note the exotic term º ı (¼ king), playing upon ˚ıººÅ  Æ; cf. also Masson (1962), 103 with n. 4.

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hymnal settings; at frs. 3, 3a, and 32 the god is described by means of a reference to his parentage (son of Maia) and an important Kultort, his birth-place (Cyllene), while fr. 3a exhibits another hymnal trope, namely the accumulation of some of the god’s main by-names and characterizations (ŒıªåÆ, ˚ÆÆFºÆ,34 çøæH ÆEæ). Hipponax’s invocations of Hermes, furthermore, are comically incongruous, since the ‘higher’ form of prayer is used to express ‘lowly’ requests.35 To these we should add two more fragments. First, fr. 47 IEG (Ææ! fiz f ºıŒº  æÅ Æ j æe b ŒıØ e +ºıÅø % Eæ B), which may have comic intent: as Degani observes,36 the name +ºıØØ may be fictitious, derived from çºıÇØ; the verse would thus amount to ‘Hermes of the Chatterboxes’.37 Second, fr. 79. 9–10 IEG (% Eæ B ! K % IÆŒ IŒºıŁÆ j . . . F Œıe e çغÅ), where West proposes ‘and Hermes having given escort to Hipponax’s [had kept safe] the burglar from the dog’.38 Although it is difficult to interpret these fragments with a high degree of certainty, given that we are lacking the context, it is nevertheless evident that the iambic poet presents himself as having a particular relation to Hermes. We observe a similar presentation of Hermes in Old Comedy. The hero of Aristophanes’ Peace, Trygaios, flies to Olympus, where he encounters Hermes, who is depicted in an undignified manner, reminiscent of what we find in the fragments of Hipponax. The god is the doorkeeper of Olympus, left there by the other gods to guard their petty household equipment.39 Interestingly, Hermes’ initially hostile reception of Trygaios changes as soon as the mortal offers him a few pieces of meat.40 It will be remembered that in the Hymn to Hermes the god is twice said to be ‘desirous of meat’ (ŒæØH KæÆÇø; 64, 287) and that he actually attempts to taste some of the meat he has roasted at the Alpheios river, but is unable to consume his portion.41 34

See Masson (1962), 104–6. See West (1974), 29. 36 Degani (2007), 107. 37 If correct, this may point humorously to Hermes as the patron of oratory. 38 See West (1974), 144. 39 Ar. Pax 201–2. 40 Ar. Pax 191–4. 41 In ps.-Apollod. 3. 113 Hermes eats some of the meat. Hermes’ greed is prominent also in Ar. Pl. (1136–8, 1118–32), where the god laments his hunger because of the loss of his earlier offerings. Cf. also Telecl. fr. 35 PCG. t  Ł! % Eæ B, Œ H ŁıºÅ ø (‘Lord Hermes, gulp down some of the offerings’). 35

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The exchanges between Trygaios and Hermes are humorously irreverent. For instance, at 400–2 the mortal unscrupulously declares Hermes a thief, stating it in a rather casual manner as if he and Hermes were equals who had been on the friendliest terms for a long time (note the endearing diminutive % Eæ fiØ, ‘my dear little Hermes’ at 924). The same may be said of 363–5, where Trygaios expresses his confidence that Hermes as the god of luck and lot will help him. Furthermore, it is only after Trygaios explains to Hermes the material loss that the collapse of Greece would entail for the gods that Hermes decides to help him.42 Such a reversed relation between Hermes and a mortal occurs also at Wealth 1139–70: whereas normally it is the mortal who reminds a god of his previous service to him (or her) in order to justify his request (da quia dedi), here it is Hermes who reminds Karion of his previous services to him and requests that the humans admit him.43 All this is of course humorous, since the gods (by definition ‘lofty’ characters) are depicted in human fashion and implicated in lower actions, which creates comic incongruity.44 This representation of the gods is crucially relevant for the Homeric Hymn to Hermes. The archaic hymn recalls and foreshadows in many ways what we have just observed regarding the presentation of Hermes in iamb and comedy. To begin with, the praised deity is presented in his infancy: Hermes accomplishes all his Œºıa æªÆ (‘glorious deeds’) when he is just two days old. Of course, the cattle-theft myth is very old, going back to an Indo-European archetype,45 and Hermes’ cattle-theft is well-known. But the attribution of this action to the newborn Hermes (probably an innovation of Alcaeus, who also composed a hymn to Hermes)46 certainly has a great potential for comedy and even the grotesque. In fact, Middle Comedy saw a proliferation of the ŁF 42

His argument is that Helios and Selene, to whom the barbarians sacrifice, have been conspiring with the barbarians against the Olympians so that, once the Olympians have been removed, they can enjoy the sacrifices they used to offer them. Cf. Ar. Av. 1515–24. 43 Hermes appears also in Phrynichus fr. 61 and fr. 204. Philiscus wrote a play entitled % Eæ F ŒÆd çæÅ ªÆÆ, of which unfortunately not a single fragment survives. Divine satire occurs elsewhere in Comedy; cf. the divine ambassadors in Ar. Av. 1565–693 or the presentation of Dionysus in Ra. (passim). 44 See Nesselrath (1995), 10 on the archaic precedents for such comic incongruity; he cites Arist. Po. 1448a 17 ff. and 1449a 32–4 for the ‘degrading of characters’. For the comic presentation of the gods in Homer, see below (pp. 97–8). 45 See Lincoln (1976), Walcot (1979), West (2007), 451–2. 46 See Cairns (1983), 29–33.

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ªÆ plays,47 while Hellenistic poetry picked up this theme to a great extent.48 But this is not all: the infant Hermes, still wrapped in his swaddling-clothes, delivers defence speeches to Apollo and Zeus which are highly polished in terms of their organization and rhetorical effects (261–77, 368–86).49 Hermes, furthermore, is a trickster who outsmarts Apollo, a god who, though both older than him and the patron of divination, cannot discover his cows’ whereabouts and has to ask a mortal and his infant brother for information (190–200, 254–9). He steals fifty cows from Apollo’s herd and leads them away backwards to confuse their owner, while he fabricates a set of wondrous sandals which create footprints that cause Apollo’s amazement.50 As an infant, he constructs a lyre with a view to using it as a means to barter with Apollo for the cattle later (34–5, 47–51). Finally, his actions cause his audience to laugh: at 281 Apollo laughs at Hermes’ defence speech and feigned indifference, while at 389 it is Zeus’ turn to laugh at Hermes’ skill in lying.51 Furthermore, there is an indirect reference to the iambic ethos in Hermes. At lines 55–6 Hermes’ improvised hymn to himself is compared to the playfully teasing words young men direct at each other at the symposia ( . . . M ŒFæØ j  ÅÆd ŁÆºfi ÅØ ÆæÆØ ºÆ Œæ ıØ, ‘just as young men tease each other with indirect attacks at banquets’).52 These Œæ ÆØ were a kind of ‘indirect speech 47

Nesselrath (1995). See Ambühl (2005). 49 See already Radermacher (1931), 127–8, Görgemanns (1976), 115. Hermes uses what Kennedy (1994), 14 considers ‘the first specific example of argument from probability . . . in Greek’. The poet attempts to represent Hermes’ speech as childlike: in Hermes’ defence speech to Apollo (261–77) we observe repetition in diction (263–5, 265–6, 275–6) and rhythm (eleven of the seventeen lines end with a verb-form in the metrical shape wqq [261–6, 269–71, 274, 277]; of these, six include a trochaic noun before the verb-form [263, 265, 266, 269, 274, 279], while 268 reproduces this metrical pattern, though without a verb). Hermes’ speech, furthermore, consists of short clauses that sometimes lack connectives (263–4, 266–7, 273). All of this contributes to creating the impression of child-talk; see van Nortwick (1974), 94–5. 50 Cf. above n. 8. 51 See Halliwell (2008), 100–3, with Furley in this volume (pp. 224–5), who compares Hermes’ actions in the Hymn to the machinations of a seruus callidus in comedy, at which the audience (both internal and external) has to laugh. 52 For such Œæ ÆØ, cf. IEG 27. 1–6 (Adespota); Alex. fr. 9. 8–10 PCG (with Arnott [1996] ad loc.); A.R. 1. 457–9  ØÆ ’ I Ø Æd IºººØØ j ıŁFŁ! x  ººa  Ø Ææa ÆØd ŒÆd Yø fi j æH łØøÆØ, ‹! ¼Æ o æØ IÅ, ‘then they were addressing each other in turns, as young men often pleasantly amuse themselves by food and drink, when insatiate insolence is missing’ (which may be 48

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characteristic of young men at feasts, that involved assertion of status and could sometimes be playful’.53 This is precisely the implication of the simile introducing Hermes’ hymn to himself: the young god attempts to assert his status by means of his improvised song, emphasizing the duration of Maia and Zeus’ affair and his parents’ equal status (note ÆØæfiÅ çغÅØ, ‘companionable affection’ at 58), as well as praising the wealth in his mother’s cave. But we can go a step further. J. Clay has demonstrated how the major Homeric Hymns represent a critical moment in the divine cosmos. The narrator depicts a crisis on Olympus, which threatens to destabilize the world as Zeus has organized it. Zeus then has to act as a mediator, and his involvement leads into a re-definition or re-distribution of divine timai.54 The Hymn to Hermes conforms to this pattern. Hermes is the last born of the Olympians, which causes a problem: the divine honours have already been distributed. In order to acquire his own place in the world of the Olympians, Hermes (whose background is both Olympian through Zeus and Titanic/ Promethean through Maia) resorts to stealing what belongs to Apollo with a view to exchanging it later. By doing this, he enacts some of his traditional roles. But the poet adds a twist to this theological scheme. The gods in this Hymn are humanized to the extreme: Hermes, the youngest brother, covets the possessions of the elder (Apollo). He even threatens to resort to (further) thievery if his father does not give him what he thinks he deserves (174–81). Maia is portrayed as a mother who reprimands her son for returning home late (150–61). Her words at 160 (ææ ºØ, ‘get lost to where you came from’) indicate her frustration. The quarrelling brothers have to resort to their father in order to settle their dispute (322–4). Thus a serious problem that could destabilize Olympus (what happens when a new god is added to the already existing pantheon?) is treated in a comic

an echo of Herm.); see further Reitzenstein (1893), 26 n. 2, and MacDowell (1971) on Ar. V. 1308–13. On the semantics of Œæ Æ and Œæ E, see Clay (1999), 620–1 with n. 11, Clarke (2001), Lloyd (2004), Gottesman (2008), esp. 6–7. I do not agree with the suggestion in Compton (2006), 43 n. 5 that Hermes’ song is satirical: Hermes’ hymn to himself is playful on account of its possibly risqué topic, yet serious as it shares many points with the opening to the actual Homeric Hymn to Hermes. Whom would Hermes be satirizing? For the correspondence between the poet’s song and divine musical performances, see Calame in this volume (p. 348–50). 53 Gottesmann (2008), 11. 54 Clay (1989), 15 and in this volume (Ch. 11). Cf. Introduction (pp. 19–20).

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way by the Hermes poet, who renders the divine actors in extremely human terms. Such incongruity occurs also at the linguistic level: Hermes’ language is deceptively childish.55 Furthermore, lofty epic language describes such lowly matters as digestive distress. When Apollo seizes Hermes in his attempt to force him to reveal where he had hidden his cattle, Hermes counters this bie with his metis (note  . . . çæÆ  , ‘having contrived’ at 294), by ‘letting forth an omen, a wretched labourer of the belly, an insolent messenger’ (Nøe æ ÅŒ . . . j º Æ ªÆæe æØŁ, IŁÆº IªªºØÅ, 295–6).56 The combination of the