Apollodoriana: Ancient Myths, New Crossroads 3110540746, 9783110540741

Table of contents :
Table of Contents
1. Preface: Apollodorus: Cutting through Mythography
2. Between the Homeric Hymns and the Mythological Bibliotheca: Demeter in Apollodorus (1.5.1-3 [29–33])
3. From Panyassis to Pseudo-Apollodorus: The Resurrection of Tyndareus
4. Lost in Tradition: Apollodorus and Tragedy-Related Texts
5. Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca and the Mythographus Homericus: An Intertextual Approach
6. Helen in Pseudo-Apollodorus Book 3
7. Typhoeus-Typhon in Hesiod, Apollodorus and Elsewhere
8. Orpheus in Apollodorus
9. Myths of Star and Constellation Origins in the Bibliotheca
10. The Bibliotheca of Pseudo‐Apollodorus, Textus Unicus
11. Apollodorus and the Art of the Variant
12. Apollodorus’ Text: Experimental Layout and Edition
13. The Edition of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca by Thomas Gale (Paris, 1675): Between Tradition and Innovation
14. The Apollodorus of Christian Gottlob Heyne
15. Postface: The Mazes of Mythography
Index of Names
Index of Passages Cited
Subject Index

Citation preview

Apollodoriana

Sozomena

Studies in the Recovery of Ancient Texts Edited on behalf of the Herculaneum Society by Alessandro Barchiesi, Robert Fowler, Dirk Obbink and Nigel Wilson

Volume 16

Apollodoriana

Ancient Myths, New Crossroads Studies in Honour of Francesc J. Cuartero Edited by Jordi Pàmias

ISBN 978-3-11-054074-1 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-054532-6 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-054430-5 ISSN 1869-6368 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A CIP catalog record for this book has been applied for at the Library of Congress. Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2017 Walter de Gruyter Inc., Berlin/Boston Typesetting: Konvertus, Haarlem Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck ♾ Printed on acid-free paper Printed in Germany www.degruyter.com

Table of Contents Jordi Pàmias 1 Preface: Apollodorus: Cutting through Mythography 

 1

José B. Torres 2 Between the Homeric Hymns and the Mythological Bibliotheca: Demeter in Apollodorus (1.5.1-3 [29–33])   7 Jaume Pòrtulas 3 From Panyassis to Pseudo-Apollodorus: The Resurrection of Tyndareus   22 Nereida Villagra 4 Lost in Tradition: Apollodorus and Tragedy-Related Texts   38 Joan Pagès 5 Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca and the Mythographus Homericus: An Intertextual Approach   66 Lowell Edmunds 6 Helen in Pseudo-Apollodorus Book 3 

 82

Ezio Pellizer 7 Typhoeus-Typhon in Hesiod, Apollodorus and Elsewhere  Alberto Bernabé 8 Orpheus in Apollodorus 

 100

 113

Anna Santoni 9 Myths of Star and Constellation Origins in the Bibliotheca  Francesc J. Cuartero 10 The Bibliotheca of Pseudo‐Apollodorus, Textus Unicus  Robert L. Fowler 11 Apollodorus and the Art of the Variant 

 158

 126

 146

VI 

 Table of Contents

Charles Delattre 12 Apollodorus’ Text: Experimental Layout and Edition 

 176

Ulrike Kenens 13 The Edition of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca by Thomas Gale (Paris, 1675): Between Tradition and Innovation   204 Sotera Fornaro 14 The Apollodorus of Christian Gottlob Heyne  Glenn W. Most 15 Postface: The Mazes of Mythography  Index of Names 

 235

Index of Passages Cited  Subject Index 

 253

 241

 227

 219

Jordi Pàmias

1 Preface: Apollodorus: Cutting through Mythography The origins of this volume lay in the colloquium ‘Apollodoriana. Antics mites, noves cruïlles’ held at the Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona on the 25th and 26th of April 2013.1 A growing interest in myth over the last decades has brought to the fore the main mythographical handbook that has came down to us from Antiquity: Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca (Library). A number of recent editions shows this trend, like (among others) the commented translation of Carrière & Massonie (1991), the translated and commented edition of Scarpi & Ciani (1996), the bilingual editions of Brodersen (2004) and Dräger (2005), the translations of Guidorizzi (1995) and Smith & Trzaskoma (2007) or the critical text by Papathomopoulos (2010).2 The last ambitious editorial undertaking is the Catalan edition of Apollodorus. Based on a fresh examination of the manuscripts and provided with a massive apparatus of notes, a four-volume bilingual edition of the Bibliotheca for the Fundació Bernat Metge collection is being currently completed by Francesc J. Cuartero.3 The publication of the first two volumes (2010 and 2012) seemed a suitable occasion to come to grips with this particular text and to address it from a scholarly perspective. Indeed, scientific study of Greek myth as a narrative has intensely focused on this comprehensive compilation of ancient myths written in the Roman period. No conference devoted to this engaging text, however, was held prior to that one. And, to this date, no monographic volume on Apollodorus’ mythology exists either. To cover a broader scope of analysis, three further papers were commissioned to scholars dealing with mythographical texts from diverse

1 The organisation of the Colloquium was made possible by the financial assistance of the Project “Los Mitos en Grecia: edición y comentario de los mitógrafos antiguos” (BFF2010-16301) of the Ministerio de Ciencia e Innovación of Spain, as well as the Facultat de Lletres of the Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona. 2 Huys & Colomo 2004, 220: “This supplement [covering the Apollodorean scholarship of the period 1997–2004, scil.] contains no less than six new translations in English, French, German, Spanish and Italian...”. 3 Reviews of Cuartero (2010) by Alganza (2011) and Torres (2012). Jordi Pàmias, Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-001

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perspectives (Kenens, Pagès and Villagra). The present collection of essays is meant to be a homage to Paco Cuartero.4 In the burgeoning scholarly field of Greek mythology, a leading trend is now mythography.5 As the recent studies of Robert Fowler have positively shown (2000 and 2013), mythography is an activity that cannot be longer confined within the narrow chronological frame of Hellenistic and Imperial periods. Writing down myths proves to be an intense activity in Archaic and Classical poleis. Yet, a turning point in the history of Greek mythography is to be located in Hellenistic Alexandria. In the wake of the institutional research conducted in the library of the Museum, the reception of Greek mythology arrived at a conscious conversion into literature. Later on, if the Greek mythological patrimony can become a literary corpus, a mythographical manual would eventually aspire to be the compendium of, and substitute for, an entire mythological library: in fact, Apollodorus’ Library (Bibliotheca).6 This manual has served as the primary model for many modern collections of Greek myths and as a source for the study of ancient mythology. Thanks to its totalizing character, with its endless accumulation of mythical characters and references to now missing sources, the Bibliotheca invites consultation on particular matters. As Delattre proves in his chapter, already in Antiquity the Bibliotheca encouraged a particular reading: namely, one that aims for the reader to acquire information – and it does not necessarily entail a continuous act of reading. This approach, however, shall not obscure its coherent character and internal logic. In its genealogical arrangement by broad mythical families, the Bibliotheca echoes the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women, often considered its main structural source.7 But far from paraphrasing the genealogical poem, the author combines different and disparate sources in a single text.8 Myth, which has been losing its

4 Pagès, Villagra, and Pàmias have been disciples of Paco Cuartero at the Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona. 5 See Edmunds’ predictive words in the introduction to the (second) edition of Approaches to Greek Myth: “Finally, the history of Greek myth in the sense of mythography, written collection of myths, will certainly need a chapter in a future edition of Approaches to Greek Myth” (Edmunds 2014, 24). A Handbook to Greek and Roman Mythography, edited by Smith and Trzaskoma, is forthcoming at Oxford University Press. And a Cambridge History of Mythology and Mythography is planned for publication, too (Cambridge University Press). 6 On the Alexandrian reception of Greek mythology, see Pàmias 2014, 50–52. On Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca as a ‘library-book’ and as a total text, see Too 2010, 116–142. 7 See, among others, West 1985, 44–46; Hirschberger 2004, 32. An exception is Fletcher (2005, 299–303), who challenges the circular logic consisting of taking the Bibliotheca as a basis to restore the Catalogue. 8 On the methodological problems that beset the study of the relationship between Ps.-Hesiod and Apollodorus, see Most’s postface in this volume.



1 Preface: Apollodorus: Cutting through Mythography 

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social and political efficacy, no longer serves the propaganda of the Greek cities or of the aristocratic families who asserted their mythical ancestors. In a moment in which knowledge of mythology has been converted into a crucial element in the definition and identity of the Greco-Roman elites, a function of the Biblio­ theca is to put an artificial memory at the disposal of the reading public of Greek.9 However, outlining and describing the target audience for this particular manual is not an easy undertaking, as the contributions by Edmunds and Fowler show. Different levels of readership may be envisaged. On the one hand, one cannot hardly disagree with Cuartero, when he labels the Bibliotheca as a “discurs vulgaritzador”.10 Indeed, it can be seen as a work of popularization that provides the mainstream reading public with basic information about the Greek myths. An excellent example of this standpoint is Bernabé’s contribution on the Orphic mythology in the Bibliotheca. Apollodorus compiles a number of traditions into a unitary tale “a sort of ‘least common multiple’ of the features contained in the oldest sources”. On the other hand, the unique details and variants found in the Bibliotheca, as well as the great number of authors and the frequency of their citation, show that the author wanted to reach an elite readership having “aspirations to sophistication” (Fowler).11 Some of these unusual, nay eccentric, traditions compiled by Apollodorus are described and analysed in Cuartero’s paper. In any case, Apollodorus’ inventiveness in combining elements into consistent stories, as astutely shown by Edmunds, encourages disagreement with Frazer, who called Apollodorus “a commonplace man, who relates without one touch of imagination or one spark enthusiasm the long series of fables and legends which inspired the immortal productions of Greek poetry and the splendid creations of Greek art”.12 Santoni’s paper provides evidence, too, for the sophisticated way in which the author deploys the narrative elements. Inclusion of catasterismic myths in the Bibliotheca suggests that the result is not “to be considered the simple result of

9 In this context, reception of myth, the common cultural memory, has come to be a “pratique compensatoire et complémentaire de la domination romaine” (Mactoux 1989, 248). In Cameron’s words, “Greek mythology was the cultural currency of the Greco-Roman world. The mythographers are documents as much of social as of literary history” (Cameron 2004, x). In general, for the relationship between the Greek past and the present in the Second Sophistic, cf. Swain 1996, 65–100. 10 Cuartero 2010, 23. Cf. Mactoux 1989, 249: “discours de vulgarisation se donnant pour tel”. 11 Söder (1939) was the first to tackle the unique details found in the Bibliotheca. She identified fifty in the first book alone. 12 Frazer 1921, xxxiii. Even more disdaining were the Müllers, who labelled the Bibliotheca a “miseram fabularum hinc illinc corrasarum farraginem” (Müller & Müller 1841, XLIII).

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a mechanical process of aggregation of information, but could reveal instead a certain level of elaboration and selection of data in the composition of the work”. Unsurprisingly, a concern that can be recognized in a number of the individual contributions gathered in this volume is the implied readership of the Bibliotheca. Indeed, in the modern study of myth, a common trend is reception. And in this case reception starts with the intended audience of the manual. The active participation of readers in the construction of significance has serious consequences for the understanding of ancient texts. If the reader contributes to the construction of meaning, interpretation will emanate not solely from the original meaning but also from new readers in new contexts.13 Scholarly responses to ancient texts are to be taken as particular forms of reception. Accordingly, the present collection includes two chapters on modern Apollodorean scholarship. On the one hand, Kenens addresses Apollodorus’ edition by Thomas Gale and its intermediary role in the contemporary scholarly landscape between tradition and innovation. On the other hand, as Fornaro emphasises, Apollodorus plays a major role in the origins of modern mythology as science as envisaged by Heyne.14 In contrast with interest in reception, the focus seems to move slightly away from the critical scrutiny of sources, which has long been a crucial topic in Apollodorean scholarship.15 The Quellenforschung, as it was put into practice by 19th and 20th cent. classical scholars after the genealogical model of textual criticism, has been henceforth abandoned.16 Individual contributions dealing with the relationship of the Bibliotheca with previous or contemporary texts (Torres, Villagra, Pagès) address the issue from others points of view. What now matters is not only to identify the sources used by Apollodorus, but rather to untangle the particular ways in which the author of the handbook makes use of the amount of data ­available to him and how he combines the disparate mythographical traditions. Catchwords as ‘hypotext’ or ‘intertextuality’ are brought to the fore. The methodological difficulties of correlating a unitary text (Apollodorus) to a reconstructed work like the Mythographus Homericus (Pagès) or to a collection of fragments ­(Villagra: “comparing a text to a textual artifact”) are highlighted. A number of chapters of this volume come to grips with particular mythical episodes (Pellizer’s Typhoeus: a mythème) and their place within the history of ideas. In some cases, connections of the Apollodorean accounts with the mythical and religious system of Greece are investigated, as Pòrtulas does on Tyndareus’ resurrection. In other cases, the Apollodorean mythical narratives can be used 13 Martindale 2007, 298; Pàmias 2014, 44. 14 See, too, in this respect Fornaro 2004. 15 See Huys 1997, 326–338 with Huys & Colomo 2004, 223–229. 16 On the “rise and fall of Quellenforschung”, see Most 2016.



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to explore and reconstruct distant stages of the ritual protohistory of Greece, as Cuartero’s paper shows. Connections of myth and ritual are examined anew. As a recent dissertation on the Bibliotheca proves, earlier institutional concepts may linger in the text of Apollodorus, without the author being aware of them.17 At this point, I wish to express my gratitude to the participants to the conference, who have been willing to contribute their articles to this volume. I am grateful also to the colleagues who have written a supplementary chapter. Especial thanks go to Bob Fowler, who has been closely following the editorial process from the very beginning, as well as to the de Gruyter team, including Serena ­Pirrotta, Marco Acquafredda, and Lena Ebert.

Bibliography Acerbo, Stefano. I racconti mitici della Biblioteca: polivalenza delle immagini nella mitografia di età imperiale, Diss. Università di Pisa, 2016. Alganza, Minerva. Review of Cuartero (2010). FlorIlib 22 (2011), 325–328. Brodersen, Kai. Apollodoros: Götter und Helden der Griechen. Griechisch und deutsch. Herausgegeben und übersetzt von Kai Brodersen (Darmstadt: Edition Antike, 2004). Cameron, Alan. Greek Mythography in the Roman World (Oxford: University Press, 2004). Carrière, Jean-Claude & Massonie, Bertrand. La Bibliothèque d’Apollodore. Traduite, annotée et commentée (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1991). Cuartero, Francesc J. Pseudo-Apol·lodor. Biblioteca. Vol. 1 [Llibre primer] (Barcelona: Fundació Bernat Metge, 2010). Cuartero, Francesc J. Pseudo-Apol·lodor. Biblioteca. Vol. 2 [Llibre segon] (Barcelona: Fundació Bernat Metge, 2012). Dräger, Paul. Apollodor. Bibliotheke. Götter- und Heldensagen (Düsseldorf: Artemis & Winkler, 2005). Edmunds, Lowell (ed.). Approaches to Greek Myth. Second Edition (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2014). Fletcher, Richard. Or such as Ovid’s Metamorphoses..., in: The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women. Constructions and Reconstructions, edited by Richard L. Hunter (Cambridge: University Press, 2005), 299–319. Fornaro, Sotera. I Greci senza lumi. L’antropologia della Grecia antica in Christian Gottlob Heyne (1729–1812) e nel suo tempo. Nachrichten der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen. Philologisch-Historische Klasse 5 (2004), 109–195. Fowler, Robert L. Early Greek Mythography I. Texts (Oxford: University Press, 2000). Fowler, Robert L. Early Greek Mythography II. Commentary (Oxford: University Press, 2013). Frazer, James G. Apollodorus: The Library, 2 vols., Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1921). Guidorizzi, Giulio. Apollodoro Biblioteca. Con il commento di James G. Frazer (Milano: Adelphi, 1995).

17 Acerbo 2016, 111: “Lo ps. Apollodoro non doveva più avere coscienza di queste connessioni...”.

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Hirschberger, Martina. Gynaikōn Katalogos und Megalai Ēhoiai. Ein Kommentar zu den Fragmenten zweier hesiodeischer Epen (München: Saur, 2004). Huys, Marc. 125 Years of Scholarship on Apollodoros the Mythographer: A Bibliographical Survey. Ant. Class. 66 (1997), 319–351. Huys, Marc & Colomo, Daniela. Bibliographical Survey on Apollodoros the Mythographer: A Supplement. Ant. Class. 73 (2004), 219–237. Mactoux, Marie-Madeleine. Panthéon et discours mythologique. Le cas d’Apollodore. RHR 206 (1989), 245–270. Martindale, Charles. Reception, in: A Companion to the Classical Tradition, edited by Craig W. Kallendorf (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing), 297–311. Most, Glenn W. The Rise and Fall of Quellenforschung, in: For the Sake of Learning. Essays in Honor of Anthony Grafton, edited by Ann Blair & Anja-Silvia Goeing. Vol. 2 (Leiden & Boston: Brill, 2016), 933–954. Müller, Carl & Müller, Theodor. Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum. Vol. I (Paris: Didot, 1841). Pàmias, Jordi. The Reception of Greek Myth, in: Approaches to Greek Myth. Second Edition, edited by Lowell Edmunds (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2014), 44–83. Papathomopoulos, Manolis. Απολλoδώρου Βιβλιοθήκη / Apollodori Bibliotheca post Richardum Wagnerum recognita (Athinai: Aletheia, 2010). Scarpi, Paolo & Ciani, Maria Grazia. Apollodoro. I miti greci. Biblioteca. Traduzione di Maria Grazia Ciani (Milano: Mondadori, 1996). Smith, R. Scott & Trzaskoma, Stephen M. Apollodorus’ Library and Hyginus’ Fabulae. Two Handbooks of Greek Mythology (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2007). Söder, Anna. Quellenuntersuchung zum 1. Buch der Apollodorschen Bibliothek, Diss. Würzburg (Würzburg: Becker, 1939). Swain, Simon. Hellenism and Empire. Language, Classicism, and Power in the Greek World, AD 50–250 (Oxford: University Press, 1996). Too, Yun Lee. The Idea of the Library in the Ancient World (Oxford: University Press, 2010). Torres, José B. Review of Cuartero (2010) and Papathomopoulos (2010). Emerita 80 (2012), 199–202. West, Martin L. The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women. Its Nature, Structure, and Origins (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985).

José B. Torres

2 Between the Homeric Hymns and the Mythological Bibliotheca: Demeter in Apollodorus (1.5.1-3 [29–33]) This research paper on the Bibliotheca is part of a more wide-ranging project whose purpose is to discern the traces of the Homeric Hymns in the mythological literature to which Apollodorus’ work may be ascribed.1 That these Hymns had a bearing on the Bibliotheca has been widely acknowledged, including at a number of points in Frazer’s annotated edition.2 In his commentary on the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, Richardson points out that Apollodorus’ text is one of the prose texts dating to the imperial period in which the influence of that Hymn may be traced; and he likewise holds that the latter may also have had a bearing on a number of verbal expressions used in the Bibliotheca text.3 In a later commentary on the Homeric Hymn to Hermes, Vergados argues that, although the Bibliotheca may encompass the hexametrical text via one source or another,4 the account of the narrative offered there (3.10.2 [112–115]) also draws on other hypotexts that appear to be different from, or even contradictory to, the version of the Hymn.5 In spite of these critical observations of particular textual details, and despite an extensive critical literature concerning the sources of his writings, no overall study tracing the influence of the Homeric Hymns on Apollodorus’ work has yet been undertaken.6 The primary purpose of this contribution is not, however, to fill this gap in the research; rather, the objective is to shed some light on the issue by analyzing what Apollodorus (1.5.1-3 [29–33]) and the second Homeric Hymn may have to say about Demeter. In the footnote to 1.5.1 [29], the point in the text at which Apollodorus opens his account about the two goddesses, Frazer’s annotated edition states that:

1 Concerning Cornutus and Apollodorus of Athens, see Torres 2016. 2 Cf. Frazer 1921, 1.34, 2.5. For further insights into the relationship between the Homeric Hymns and Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca, see Cuartero in this volume. 3 Cf. Richardson 1974, 71. 4 An implicit issue here concerns the nature of Apollodorus’ sources; see footnotes 6 and 12. 5 Cf. Vergados 2013, 93–97. Holland (1926, 163–164) assumes that h.Merc. is the origin of Apollodorus’ narrative. In marked contrast, neither Schwartz nor Wendel cite the Homeric Hymns as sources for the Bibliotheca. 6 Cf. Schwartz 1894, 2877–2880; Wendel 1935, 1365–1366; Van der Valk 1958; Huys 1997; Cuartero 2010, 27–41; Kenens 2011. DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-002

8  José B. Torres “This account of the rape of Persephone and Demeter’s quest of her is based on the Homeric Hymn to Demeter”.7 The similarities between the two versions are clear from the very beginning of both renditions; in both the Homeric Hymn and the Bibliotheca, the reader is told that Zeus colluded with Pluto in the kidnap of Persephone: h.Cer. 1–3: Δήμητρ’ ἠΰκομον σεμνὴν θεὰν ἄρχομ’ ἀείδειν, αὐτὴν ἠδὲ θύγατρα τανύσφυρον ἣν Ἀϊδωνεὺς ἥρπαξεν, δῶκεν δὲ βαρύκτυπος εὐρυόπα Ζεύς. Of Demeter the lovely-haired, the august goddess first I sing, of her and her slender-ankled daughter, whom Aidoneus seized by favor of heavy-booming, wide-sounding Zeus.8 Apollod. Bibl. 1.5.1 [29]: Πλούτων δὲ Περσεφόνης ἐρασθεὶς Διὸς συνεργοῦντος ἥρπασεν αὐτὴν κρύφα. Pluto fell in love with Persephone and with the help of Zeus carried her off secretly.

This is the standard narrative of the myth, from which only the versions of Ovid and Claudian diverge,9 both of whom endeavor to frame the seizing of Persephone as a love-story, which explains why Pluto’s conspirator in their versions is ­Aphrodite, rather than Zeus. Correspondence on so general a point would be meaningful only if other common features such as textual parallels were also to be discerned. While it is true that the same verb (ἁρπάζω) is used in both instances to denote Pluto’s action (ἥρπαξεν / ἥρπασεν), this correspondence is not significant given that the word in question (ἁρπάζω) is the generic verb for ‘kidnap’ in Greek.10 A comparative reading of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter and Apollodorus’ version of the narrative discloses three different situations: first, there are corresponding passages that evince no significant verbal parallels, as would appear to be the case in the instance cited above; second, there are passages that tell the same story and are also similar at the level of verbal expression;11 and third, the 7 Cf. Frazer 1921, 1.34, Richardson 1974, 76. 8 The Homeric Hymn to Demeter translations are taken from West 2003; the Bibliotheca translations from Frazer 1921. 9 Cf. Ov. Met. 5.365–384; Claud. Rapt. 1.26–27, 214–228. 10 The same verbs is used, likewise in an account of the kidnapping of Persephone, in Hes. Theog. 914 (cf. vv. 913–914: ἣν Ἀιδωνεὺς / ἥρπασεν ἧς παρὰ μητρός, ἔδωκε δὲ μητίετα Ζεύς). Cf. Currie 2012, 191. 11 Parallels involving other significant features, such as the inclusion of rarer mythemes, may also be meaningful; for instance, both texts present Demeter wandering the world carrying a torch: cf. h.Cer. 47–48 and Apollod. Bibl. 1.5.1 [29]. On torches and the Eleusinian Mysteries, see Richardson 1974, 165, 166–167.

2 Between the Homeric Hymns and the Mythological Bibliotheca  9

two texts present contrasting versions, which may be attributed to the fact that the Bibliotheca incorporates alternative readings based on other source texts or on local variants of the myth.12 Several excerpts pertain to the second category described above, including, for instance, the sequence featuring Iambe, the figure who succeeds in making Demeter laugh in Eleusis, despite the goddess’ distress at the loss of her daughter. The key verses in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter (vv. 202–204) run as follows: πρίν γ’ ὅτε δὴ χλεύῃς μιν Ἰάμβη κέδν’ εἰδυῖα πολλὰ παρασκώπτουσ’ ἐτρέψατο πότνιαν ἁγνήν, μειδῆσαι γελάσαι τε καὶ ἵλαον σχεῖν θυμόν. (…) until at last dutiful Iambe with ribaldry and many a jest diverted the holy lady so that she smiled and laughed and became benevolent.

The corresponding text in Apollodorus (1.5.1 [30]) also recounts how the goddess comes to the house of Celeus, the king of Eleusis, where she is welcomed by a group of women, who invite her to sit next to them; however, Demeter remains reserved until γραῖά τις Ἰάμβη σκώψασα τὴν θεὸν ἐποίησε μειδιᾶσαι, “a certain old crone, Iambe, joked the goddess and made her smile”. In both texts, the woman who makes Demeter laugh is called Iambe, not Baubo as in other ­versions;13 and Iambe teases Demeter (σκώψασα: cf. παρασκώπτουσ’, h.Cer. 203) to make the goddess (τὴν θεὸν: cf. πότνιαν ἁγνήν, h.Cer. 203) smile (μειδιᾶσαι: cf. μειδῆσαι, h.Cer. 204).14 There are also significant verbal parallels between the two texts in the description of Demeter as a wet-nurse to Celeus’ son, which is recounted in this passage from the Bibliotheca as follows: ὄντος δὲ τῇ τοῦ Κελεοῦ γυναικὶ Μετανείρᾳ παιδίου, τοῦτο ἔτρεφεν ἡ Δημήτηρ παραλαβοῦσα· βουλομένη δὲ αὐτὸ ἀθάνατον ποιῆσαι, τὰς νύκτας εἰς πῦρ κατετίθει τὸ βρέφος καὶ περιῄρει τὰς θνητὰς σάρκας αὐτοῦ. καθ’ ἡμέραν δὲ παραδόξως αὐξανομένου τοῦ Δημοφῶντος (τοῦτο γὰρ ἦν ὄνομα τῷ παιδί) ἐπετήρησεν ἡ , καὶ καταλαβοῦσα εἰς πῦρ ἐγκεκρυμμένον ἀνεβόησε. (Apollod. Bibl. 1.5.1 [31]).

12 Apollodorus’ status as an author suggests that he would be unlikely to invent new variants of the information that came down to him via intermediate sources. Cf. Schwartz 1894, 2877. 13 The Orphic version, which may correspond to the Attic version; to read the texts, cf. Orphi­ corum Fragmenta [OF] 391, 395. See also Graf 1974, 168–171; 2008, 683–687, Bernabé 2008, 30. 14 Apollodorus’ text subsequently links this story to elements of the Thesmophoria ritual (διὰ τοῦτο ἐν τοῖς θεσμοφορίοις τὰς γυναῖκας σκώπτειν λέγουσιν), which may support part of the argument below concerning the author’s favoring of Attic versions of the myth. In contrast, the Hymn version links Iambe’s action to the Eleusinian ritual (with the αἰσχρολογία practiced there; cf. Richardson 1974, 213–217).

10  José B. Torres But Metanira, wife of Celeus, had a child and Demeter received it to nurse, and wishing to make it immortal she set the babe of nights on the fire and stripped off its mortal flesh. But as Demophon – for that was the child’s name – grew marvelously by day, Praxithea15 watched, and discovering him buried in the fire she cried out.

There are recurrent correspondences with the text of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. In Apollodorus’ version, Metanira has a son (παιδίου) who is raised by Demeter (ἔτρεφεν): in the Hymn, Celeus’ wife implores the visiting stranger to raise her son (παῖδα δέ μοι τρέφε τόνδε, h.Cer. 219), which is how the story unfolds (ὣς ἣ μὲν Κελεοῖο δαΐφρονος ἀγλαὸν υἱὸν (…) ἔτρεφεν ἐν μεγάροις, 233, 235). According to the Bibliotheca version, Demeter hoped to make the child immortal (ἀθάνατον); this is also the case in the other ancient text (cf. ὃ δ’ ἀέξετο δαίμονι ἶσος, h.Cer. 235; χρίεσκ’ ἀμβροσίῃ ὡσεὶ θεοῦ ἐκγεγαῶτα, 237; θεοῖσι γὰρ ἄντα ἐῴκει, 241; καί κέν μιν ποίησεν ἀγήρων τ’ ἀθάνατόν τε, 242), which tells of how the goddess hid him in the fire at night (νύκτας δὲ κρύπτεσκε πυρὸς μένει ἠύτε δαλὸν, 239: cf. τὰς νύκτας εἰς πῦρ κατετίθει τὸ βρέφος, Apollod. Bibl. 1.5.1 [31]). This deed accounts for the child’s extraordinary growth, which is noted by both Apollodorus (καθ’ ἡμέραν δὲ παραδόξως αὐξανομένου τοῦ Δημοφῶντος) and the Hymn (μέγα θαῦμ’ ἐτέτυκτο, / ὡς προθαλὴς τελέθεσκε, 240–241). However, in both versions, a woman16 walks in and interrupts the magical ritual before it can be completed. The text contained in the Bibliotheca (ἐπετήρησεν ἡ , καὶ καταλαβοῦσα εἰς πῦρ ἐγκεκρυμμένον ἀνεβόησε) is a prose adaptation of the narrative recounted in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, and occasionally takes phrases from the poem (Μετάνειρα / νύκτ’ ἐπιτηρήσασα (…) / σκέψατο, 243–245; τέκνον Δημοφόων, ξείνη σε πυρὶ ἔνι πολλῷ / κρύπτει, 248–249). A similar pattern may be traced in relation to two other sequences of the myth. See, for instance, Pluto’s stratagem to prevent Persephone from leaving the hellish underworld forever, despite the order issued by Zeus that the Maiden return to her mother.17 The underlying idea in this passage is that whoever partakes of the food of the dead remains bound to them forever;18 thus, Pluto gives

15 Cf. n. 16. 16 In Apollodorus’ text transmitted by the manuscripts, the woman’s name is Praxithea, which most editors correct to read Metanira (Μετάνειρα); Frazer 1921, whose translation is cited above, is an exception in this regard. In relation to the textual issue involved, see Frazer 1921, 1.38, 2.312; Papathomopoulos 1973; Cuartero 2010, 115. See also Cuartero in this volume. 17 Cf. h.Cer. 334–339; Apollod. Bibl. 1.5.3 [33]: Διὸς δὲ Πλούτωνι τὴν Κόρην ἀναπέμψαι κελεύ­ σαντος… 18 Cf. Frazer 1921, 1.39–41; Richardson 1974, 276.

2 Between the Homeric Hymns and the Mythological Bibliotheca  11

Persephone a pomegranate seed to eat, which proves to be a baited hook ensuring that Persephone cannot simply leave Pluto and return to Demeter once and for all: h.Cer. 371–372, 373–374 ὅ γ’ αὐτὸς / ῥοιῆς κόκκον ἔδωκε φαγεῖν ἵνα μὴ μένοι ἤματα πάντα / αὖθι παρ’ αἰδοίῃ Δημήτερι

Apollod. Bibl. 1.5.3 [33] ῥοιᾶς ἔδωκεν αὐτῇ φαγεῖν κόκκον Πλούτων, ἵνα μὴ πολὺν χρόνον παρὰ τῇ μητρὶ καταμείνῃ

There are also textual similarities between the passages describing the compromise reached regarding how Persephone is to divide her time between her mother and her husband: h.Cer. 399–400, 445–447 οἰκήσεις ὡρέων τρίτατον μέρ[ος εἰς ἐνιαυτόν,] / τὰς δὲ δύω παρ’ ἐμοί τε καὶ [ἄλλοις ἀθανά]τοισιν κούρην ἔτεος περιτελλομένοιο / τὴν τριτάτην μὲν μοῖραν ὑπὸ ζόφον ἠερόεντα, / τὰς δὲ δύω παρὰ μητρὶ καὶ ἄλλοις ἀθανάτοισιν

Apollod. Bibl. 1.5.3 [33] Περσεφόνη δὲ καθ’ ἕκαστον ἐνιαυτὸν τὸ μὲν τρίτον μετὰ Πλούτωνος ἠναγκάσθη μένειν, τὸ δὲ λοιπὸν παρὰ τοῖς θεοῖς

While it is true that these corresponding passages evince close verbal parallels, both texts also present contradictory versions of the same sequence in the mythological narrative. The fate of Celeus’ son, for example, is different in the two texts: in the Homeric Hymn version, the child does not become immortal because his mother disrupts the ritual before his nursemaid can complete it,19 whereas in Apollodorus’ account, Metanira cries out, which brings about the child’s death20 (surprisingly, all the codices attribute this cry to an otherwise unknown ­‘Praxithea’).21 Apollodorus’ description of the invention of agriculture is also different; in line with the Attic version, agriculture was gifted to the world by Triptolemus, who was acting in obedience to the commands of Demeter.22

19 Cf. h.Cer. 219–255. 20 Cf. Richardson 1974, 242, 245–247: the Hymn narrative would appear to be a literary adaptation of a traditional motif. The argument pursued in the present paper is that Apollodorus’ text presents the traditional (primary) version, while the Homeric Hymn to Demeter includes a mythical innovation. 21 Cf. n. 16. 22 Cf. Richardson 1974, 194–197; Bernabé 2008, 20, 31–34; Currie 2012, 198–199.

12  José B. Torres By contrast, the Homeric Hymn presupposes the existence of agriculture23 and Triptolemus plays only a minor role in the narrative, a chieftain in Eleusis who is referred to by name on only two or three occasions in the text.24 The two texts are also different in their narration of how Demeter finds out that her daughter has been kidnapped by Pluto. According to the Homeric Hymn, she learns of the abduction from the Sun.25 The Attic version followed by Apollodorus recounts how the people of Eleusis tell her what has happened; a number of fragments of poetry in the Orphic tradition also articulate this version, including the Berlin papyrus which is discussed in greater detail below.26 However, in line with Apollodorus’ account (1.5.1 [29]), Demeter learns the truth from the people of Hermion (μαθοῦσα δὲ παρ’ Ἑρμιονέων ὅτι Πλούτων αὐτὴν ἥρπασεν…, “learning from the people of Hermion that Pluto had carried her off…”). Nevertheless, it should also be noted that no other version, except for the few texts that stem directly from the Bibliotheca version,27 features this mytheme. Since there was an underground shrine to Demeter in Hermion, as Pausanias recorded (2.35.4-8), the author may have incorporated a local variation on the story, preserved for reasons that have not come down to us.28 The argument thus far reaffirms Frazer’s assertion cited at the start of this paper on the basis of textual evidence. However, the words of the Scottish scholar might well be turned back on themselves; perhaps, rather than saying that Apollodorus’ text is based on the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, it could be said that the Homeric Hymn to Demeter is a source for the story told in the Bibliotheca, as are other versions of the myth referred to by Apollodorus: Πανύασις [fr. 13 Bernabé] δὲ Τριπτόλεμον Ἐλευσῖνος λέγει· φησὶ γὰρ Δήμητρα πρὸς αὐτὸν ἐλθεῖν. Φερεκύδης [fr. 53 Fowler] δέ φησιν αὐτὸν Ὠκεανοῦ καὶ Γῆς (Apollod. Bibl. 1.5.2 [32]). Panyasis affirms that Triptolemus was a son of Eleusis, for he says that Demeter came to him. Pherecydes, however, says that he was a son of Ocean and Earth.

23 Cf. h.Cer. 450–454: ἐς δ’ ἄρα Ῥάριον ἷξε, φερέσβιον οὖθαρ ἀρούρης / τὸ πρίν, ἀτὰρ τότε γ’ οὔτι φερέσβιον, ἀλλὰ ἕκηλον / ἑστήκει πανάφυλλον· ἔκευθε δ’ ἄρα κρῖ λευκὸν / μήδεσι Δήμητρος καλ­ λισφύρου· αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα / μέλλεν ἄφαρ ταναοῖσι κομήσειν ἀσταχύεσσιν. 24 Cf. h.Cer. 153, 474, [477]. 25 Cf. h.Cer. 62–87. 26 Cf. OF 396–397; Parker 1991, 16; Currie 2012, 193. According to Richardson (1974, 82), the ­Berlin papyrus tells the legend local to Eleusis, which later spread to Attica. 27 These are Zenobius (1.7) and a scholium on Aristophanes (Eq. 782). Cf. Frazer 1921, 1.35; ­Richardson 1974, 174. 28 On the different local versions of the story, see Richardson 1974, 174.

2 Between the Homeric Hymns and the Mythological Bibliotheca  13

In line with the standard patterns established in the Bibliotheca, Apollodorus’ text draws together a range of versions of the story about Demeter and her daughter. Such versions, which must already have been integrated in a text that functioned as the source-text, are comprised of the Homeric Hymn, the texts authored by Panyasis and Pherecydes, as well as the Attic tradition and one or more alternative legends for such details as the account of how the people of Hermion pass on the news of the kidnapping to Demeter. Could there be another literary work in the background of the Bibliotheca which accounts for some of the details recounted in its version? In this regard, an analysis of another excerpt from Apollodorus’ text may be worthwhile – the sequence at 1.5.3 [33], which also diverges from the archaic text: Διὸς δὲ Πλούτωνι τὴν Κόρην ἀναπέμψαι κελεύσαντος, ὁ Πλούτων, ἵνα μὴ πολὺν χρόνον παρὰ τῇ μητρὶ καταμείνῃ, ῥοιᾶς ἔδωκεν αὐτῇ φαγεῖν κόκκον. ἡ δὲ οὐ προϊδομένη τὸ συμβησόμενον κατηνάλωσεν αὐτόν. καταμαρτυρήσαντος δὲ αὐτῆς Ἀσκαλάφου τοῦ Ἀχέροντος καὶ Γοργύρας, τούτῳ μὲν Δημήτηρ ἐν Ἅιδου βαρεῖαν ἐπέθηκε πέτραν, Περσεφόνη δὲ καθ’ ἕκαστον ἐνιαυτὸν τὸ μὲν τρίτον μετὰ Πλούτωνος ἠναγκάσθη μένειν, τὸ δὲ λοιπὸν παρὰ τοῖς θεοῖς. But when Zeus ordered Pluto to send up the Maid, Pluto gave her a seed of a pomegranate to eat, in order that she might not tarry long with her mother. Not foreseeing the consequence, she swallowed it; and because Ascalaphus, son of Acheron and Gorgyra, bore witness against her, Demeter laid a heavy rock on him in Hades. But Persephone was compelled to remain a third of every year with Pluto and the rest of the time with the gods.

Following the reference to the pomegranate seed ploy, but before the reader is told of how Persephone must divide her time between this world and the otherworld, the text sounds a distinctive note by mentioning a figure who appears primarily in Latin sources,29 and who does not appear in the Homeric Hymn or the Greek tradition in general: Ascalaphus, son of Acheron and a nymph, Gorgyra,30 who told of how Persephone had partaken of food in the underworld; as a result of this revelation, τούτῳ μὲν Δημήτηρ ἐν Ἅιδου βαρεῖαν ἐπέθηκε πέτραν, “Demeter laid a heavy rock on him in Hades”. There is a further reference to Ascalaphus later in the Bibliotheca, at 2.5.12 [124–126], in the context of Heracles’ wanderings 29 The story is told in Ovid (Met. 5.539–551), Servius (Aen. 4.462, G. 1.39), Lactantius Placidus (Stat. Theb. 3.511) and the Vatican Mythographers (Myth. Vat. 2.100). Cf. Frazer 1921, 1.41, ­Richardson 1974, 286–287. 30 Ascalaphus is also the name of a son of the god Ares, who took part in the voyage of the Argonauts and the Trojan war (cf. Hom. Il. 2.511–516). Moreover, there is clearly a connection between Ascalaphus and Ascalabus, the son of Misme; the latter figure is analogous to the former, and appears in some versions of the myth (Ant.Lib. 24; Nic. Th. 484–487; Ov. Met. 5.446–461), and ends up being turned into an ἀσκάλαβος or lizard (Platydactylus mauretanicus) by Demeter.

14  José B. Torres in Hades, where the latter sets the former free: [Ἡρακλῆς] ἀπεκύλισε δὲ καὶ τὸν Ἀσκαλάφου πέτρον  (…) Ἀσκάλαφον μὲν οὖν Δημήτηρ ἐποίησεν ὦτον, “And he [Hercules] rolled away also the stone of Ascalaphus (…).  But Demeter turned Ascalaphus into a short-eared owl”.31 The subsequent fate of Ascalaphus is not especially pertinent to the p ­ urposes of this paper. The key point to be underlined here is that, according to a version of the myth drawn on by Apollodorus (at 1.5.3 [33]), Demeter herself must have been ἐν Ἅιδου, ‘in Hades‘. Although there is no explicit reference to her descent into the world of the dead, the Bibliotheca would appear to presuppose just such a journey. It is easy to understand why the goddess would have wanted to venture into the underworld to recover her daughter, following the discovery of her destiny through the Sun or human messengers. Hades is the only place where Demeter could have come across a denizen of hell such as Ascalaphus, who betrays P ­ ersephone; and there, too, Ascalaphus must have suffered the punishment referred to by Apollodorus and in the Ovidian version of the narrative, albeit in the Metamorphoses Ascalaphus is punished – turned into an owl – by Proserpine, Queen of Hades,32 not by Ceres. The issue at hand at this juncture concerns what text or texts explicitly state that Demeter journeys into Hades to recover Persephone in person. Although this mytheme is not common, it is not wholly unknown. On the one hand, two Latin poets, Ovid and Claudian (in Fasti, 4.611–614, and The Rape of Proserpine, 3.107–108),33 appear to frame this variant reading as a narrative ­possibility; the sequence is voiced by two of their characters (Ceres and ­Proserpine), although the story is not developed further: atque ita ‘nec nobis caelum est habitabile’ dixit; ‘Taenaria recipi me quoque valle iube’. et factura fuit, pactus nisi Iuppiter esset bis tribus ut caelo mensibus illa foret. And thus she spoke: ‘For me, too, heaven is no home; order that I too be admitted to the Taenarian vale.’ And she would have done so, if Jupiter had not promised that Persephone should be in heaven for twice three months.34

31 For the Ovidian version of the Ascalaphus episode, as distinct from Apollodorus’ rendition, see Met. 5.538–550. 32 Cf. Ov. Met. 5.544–546. 33 Cf. also Ov. Met. 5.533 (at Cereri certum est educere natam); Richardson 1974, 84. 34 For the English translation of Ovid’s Fasti, cf. Frazer 1931.

2 Between the Homeric Hymns and the Mythological Bibliotheca  15

inque superna refer. prohibent si fata reverti, vel tantum visura veni. Restore me to the upper world. If the fates forbid my return come thou down at least and visit me.35

At the same time, this variant reading is explicitly attested in a number of texts. Hyginus opens chapter 251 of his Fabulae, under the heading qui licentia Parcarum ab inferis redierunt, with the following reference to Demeter: Ceres Proserpinam filiam suam quaerens; moreover, according to Hyginus, as is to be expected, the reason for the goddess’ descent into the underworld was to seek out her daughter. A scholium on Pindar’s work36 would appear to tell the same story: λέγεται μετὰ τὴν ἁρπαγὴν ἡ Κόρη (…) εὑρεθεῖσα λοιπὸν ὑπὸ τῆς μητρὸς αὐτῆς Δήμητρος, λευκοπώλῳ ἅρματι ἀνῆχθαι εἰς τὸν Ὄλυμπον πρὸς τὸν πατέρα τὸν Δία (“It is said that, after the kidnapping, the maiden (…) was found by her own mother and brought up to Olympus, beside her father Zeus, in a chariot drawn by white colts”).37 Interesting though such references to Hyginus and the scholium on Pindar may be, however, the origin of so novel a mytheme cannot be attributed to either author.38 The story of Demeter’s journey down into the underworld is also recounted in Orphic texts, most clearly in one of the poems collected in the hexametrical Hymns attributed to Orpheus himself:39 ἦλθές τ’ εἰς Ἀίδην πρὸς ἀγαυὴν Περσεφόνειαν ἁγνὸν παῖδα Δυσαύλου ὁδηγητῆρα λαβοῦσα, μηνυτῆρ’ ἁγίων λέκτρων χθονίου Διὸς ἁγνοῦ. You came to Hades for noble Persephone. Your guide was the guileless child of Dysaules, Who brought the news of pure chthonic Zeus’ holy union.

According to this hymn, Demeter descended into hell in search of Persephone,40 guided by the “child of Dysaules”, the swineherd Eubulus or Eubouleus, one of

35 For the English translation cited in the text, see Platnauer 1922. 36 Sch. Pind. Ol. 6.160c. 37 Translation by the author. 38 In general, critical views on Hyginus are quite harsh; see, for instance, Cameron 2004, 33–51 (especially 33). 39 Orph. H. 41.5–7 (the translation is taken from Athanassakis 1977). Cf. Graf 2008, 681. 40 In relation to this hymn, Graf (2008, 681) mistakenly concludes that “el descenso de Deméter al Hades no tiene paralelo”.

16  José B. Torres Demeter’s humble companions in the Orphic version of the myth.41 The meaning of ‘guide’ (ὁδηγητῆρα) in this context is that Eubulus, a native of Eleusis, told Demeter that Pluto had abducted her daughter.42 He was privy to such knowledge because, according to the local version of the tale, the kidnapping took place in Eleusis, not in any of the other places traditionally cited in Greek texts;43 and when Pluto’s chariot disappeared into the earth, it took with it the pigs that Eubulus had been herding.44 Although there are many and various Orphic versions of the myth of Demeter and Persephone, the key account would appear to be that found in the Berlin papyrus, which records part of a hymn dedicated to Demeter.45 This text shows striking similarities (including verbal parallels) and, at the same time, differences to the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. The two texts tell the same story: Pluto kidnapped Persephone and took her down into the underworld; Demeter went to Eleusis, revealed her true identity there, recovered her daughter and, finally, instructed the people of Eleusis in her Mysteries.46 However, there are also some differences between the two texts, as regards the reasons for the goddess’ sojourn in Eleusis and her passing on of the gift of agriculture.47 Such discrepancies may be of greater significance but it is difficult to define exactly what they may be due to the fragmentary nature of the Hymn to Demeter recorded in the Berlin papyrus. Nevertheless, one possible difference is discussed here because of the bearing it may have on the line of argument pursued in this paper. Following a reference to Triptolemus (…]πρὸς Τριπτ[όλ]εμο[ν), the papyrus continues as follows: …] ὅθεν Κάθοδος λέγ[ε]τ[αι τῆς Κόρης αὕτη. This is the text of the fragment (OF 397) as printed in Bernabé’s edition, which reads Κάθοδος

41 Cf. OF 391 II and Richardson 1974, 81–82, 178, Graf 1974, 171–174, Sfameni Gasparro 1986, 165, Bernabé 2008, 29. Although the swineherd is called Eubulus in the Orphic hymn cited here (cf. v. 8), the most common form of his name is Eubouleus; cf. OF 390, 391 II and III, 397 I, Richardson 1974, 84. 42 Cf. v. 7: μηνυτῆρ’ ἁγίων λέκτρων χθονίου Διὸς ἁγνοῦ. 43 Cf. Richardson 1974, 148–150, Graf 1974, 173. 44 Cf. OF 390 II. 45 For the edition of the papyrus text, see OF 383, 387–389, 392–393, 396–397. On the dating of the poem recorded in the papyrus, see Currie 2012, 190. The most recent research literature on the text includes Graf 2008, 674–675, 677–679, and Currie 2012. There are many Orphic fragments (cf. OF 386–397) about the same story, but is not clear whether they come from the same poem; the best that may be said is that they are cum fabula in P. Berol. seruata haud incongruentia (Bernabé 2004, 315). 46 As regards such similarities and differences, see the comparative table compiled by Currie 2012, 199. 47 Cf. Currie 2012, 193, 199, 204.

2 Between the Homeric Hymns and the Mythological Bibliotheca  17

τῆς Κόρης (with κάθοδος in upper-case letters), as the title of a poem about the descent of the Maiden into Hades.48 Although Bernabé himself does not rule out this possibility, other scholars have argued that κάθοδος ought to be edited in lower-case letters, whereby the papyrus would then read: whence “it is said” (λέγεται) this descent came about.49 Other interpretations of the passage are likewise possible.50 The reading articulated by Bruno Currie in 2012, based on Hyginus 251 and Orphic Hymn 41 (see above), is especially relevant in this regard. In Currie’s view, the κάθοδος noted in the Berlin papyrus refers to the descent into Hades of Demeter herself, rather than Persephone; in pursuit of her daughter, Demeter left behind this earthly world, bringing about the famine that prompted Zeus’ action in forcing Pluto to return the Maiden.51 Should indeed the myth have been formulated in such terms in this other Hymn to Demeter, then this literary version might also be read as part of the backdrop to the Apollodorean text, which presupposes Demeter’s journey into Hades because, in the last analysis, its sources draw to some extent on the Orphic tradition. This hypothesis would be confirmed if, for example, there were a link between Orphism and Ascalaphus: indeed, it is to be recalled that the Bibliotheca version has been read as saying that Demeter descended into Hades in light of the reference to him. However, the name of Ascalaphus is nowhere to be found in the Orphic fragments.52 Nonetheless, there may be a tenuous connection between Ascalaphus and Orpheus. According to Apollodorus (1.5.3 [33]), the former’s mother was Gorgyra. In the Ovidian version, however, his mother is referred to as Orphne, ‘darkness’ (Ὄρφνη), a name that could be etymologically related to the name Orpheus itself (Ὀρφεύς).53 While this link cannot be said to lead to any firm conclusion, it should be recalled at this juncture that the fundamental relationship between Apollodorus and the Orphic versions of the narrative is not Ascalaphus but the reference to Demeter’s descent into Hades. At the same time, this is not the only instance of a connection between Apollodorus and the Orphic tradition. In fact, on one occasion, the Bibliotheca appeals 48 Cf. Bernabé 2004, 330, Graf 2008, 678–679. 49 Cf. Richardson 1974, 81; Bernabé 2004, 330. 50 Cf. Bernabé 2004, 330. 51 Cf. Currie 2012, 198–199. Richardson 1974, 84 also notes this version: “there are traces of a version in which Demeter herself went down to Hades in order to recover her [Persephone]”. 52 Cf. the indices in Bernabé 2007. On the myth of Orpheus in the Bibliotheca, see Bernabé in this volume. 53 Cf. Ov. Met. 5.539. The etymology of the name Orpheus is unclear; cf. Chantraine 1983–19842, 829. In the past, the name was linked to ὄρφνη, and read as meaning that Ὀρφεύς was “he who is related to the darkness” of Hades; cf. Gruppe 1897–1902, 1063.

18  José B. Torres to the authority of the Orphic writers (3.10.3 [121]): εὗρον δέ τινας λεγομένους ἀναστῆναι ὑπ᾽ αὐτοῦ [Asclepius] (…) Ὑμέναιον, ὡς οἱ Ὀρφικοὶ λέγουσι.54 The analysis heretofore in this research paper, proving some form of relationship between the Apollodorus text and the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, runs counter to the rather extreme hypothesis that the Orphic Hymn to Demeter may be the true source of the text of the narrative included in the Bibliotheca. Therefore, it might be more apt to conclude that the text contained in the Bib­ liotheca is as indebted to the Homeric Hymn to Demeter as to a hymn to the goddess in the Orphic tradition. For a more refined description of the relationship between the Bibliotheca and the other two poems, a more detailed discussion of a point mentioned in passing above is required: not only are there the similarities in terms of content between the Berlin papyrus and the Homeric Hymn; there are also verbal parallels between the two versions. Such parallelism may be exemplified by a comparison of verses 54–56 in the Homeric Hymn text with lines 22–24 of OF 396:55 πότνια Δημήτηρ ὡρηφόρε ἀγλαόδωρε

εἰμὶ δὲ Δη[μ]ήτηρ ὡρηφόρ[ος ἀγλαό]δωρος.

τίς θεῶν οὐρανίων ἠὲ θνητῶν ἀνθρώπων

τίς θεὸς οὐράνιος ἠὲ θν[η]τῶ[ν ἀνθρώ]πων

ἥρπασε Περσεφόνην καὶ σὸν φίλον ἤκαχε

ἥρπασε Φερσεφ[ό]νην καὶ  [ἑὸν φίλον ἤπα]φε

θυμόν;

θυμόν;

The research literature thus far has treated the appearance in the papyrus of hexameter phrases that are similar or even identical to verses in the Homeric Hymn as textual borrowings, thereby implying that the papyrus be read as a kind of pastiche of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter.56 However, Currie’s contribution (cited above) suggests that the relationship between the two poems may be more complex. Based on critical models used in Homeric scholarship in an endeavor to find common ground between Oralism and Neoanalysis, Currie argues that both poetic versions may be written-text renderings of different pre-existing oral traditions and compositions concerning the two goddesses: although they were originally oral, such compositions would have been relatively stable, especially in light of the fact that they may have been

54 This passage has frequently (cf. Frazer 1921, 2.16) been treated as an interpolation; however, see the argument advanced by Cameron 2004, 99–100. 55 Currie 2012, 194 presents these verses as an example of the “transference of wording” occurring between the two texts. For other instances of the same phenomenon, see OF 387 (6–11), 388 (5–9), 389 (10–15), 396 (11–12, 14–16, 19, 22–24). 56 Cf. Richardson 1974, 67, 169.

2 Between the Homeric Hymns and the Mythological Bibliotheca  19

related to the ritual culture of Eleusis.57 Hence, the apparent quotations from the Homeric Hymn to Demeter in the Orphic Hymn to Demeter could be read as independent reformulations of a common traditional source-material. This theory would also account for the fact that while the Orphic poem is more recent, it reads at times as though it were prior to the Homeric Hymn, which dates to an earlier era.58 Were this hypothesis to be accepted, the idea that Apollodorus – or rather, his sources – may have learned of the myth of Demeter from an Orphic hymn like the one recorded in the Berlin papyrus becomes more credible; as Currie avers, the poem would no longer be read as a ‘cut-and-paste’ version of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, but as a free-standing poetic text, and potentially a mythographical source in its own right. At the same time, it should also be acknowledged that this hypothetical Orphic poem, which is assumed to have functioned as a source for the version in the Bibliotheca, may not be the text recorded in the Berlin papyrus. Nevertheless, whether or not it is identical to the version contained in the papyrus, it is likely that the Orphic Hymn to Demeter gave Apollodorus the narrative material that may be ascribed to the Attic version of the story, such as the details concerning Triptolemus and agriculture.59 The purpose of this paper was not to provide a textual genealogy of the ­Bibliotheca, the family history of its intermediate sources and the intersecting links between them; rather, the objective was to argue the relevance of a further trace of the Orphic tradition in Apollodorus’ text. As regards the Homeric Hymns, the textual analysis outlined here shows once more60 that although these texts may not have served as a compendium of divine mythology in Greece, they may still have played a more significant role than heretofore believed in the ­mythological tradition of which the Bibliotheca is such an outstanding representative.61

57 On contemporary perspectives re-framing the relationship between Oralism and Neoanalysis, see Torres 1995, 13–14; Burgess 2001, 133, 240, n. 4; 2006, Tsagalis 2008, 63, n. 2, 66–68; 2011. See also how Currie 2012, 184–185 addresses the issue. 58 In addition to the instance discussed in n. 22, see the comments on Demeter’s informants (the Sun or the people of Eleusis) as well as the view expressed by Currie 2012, 193, 195; for a different example, see Currie 2012, 194. On the chronology of the two hymns (Homeric Hymn: beginning of the 6th century BCE; the Orphic Hymn: between the end of the 6th and the end of the 5th century BCE?), see Currie 2012, 189–190, 205–206, 208–209. 59 Cf. Bernabé 2008, 31, Graf 2008, 686. 60 Cf. n. 1. 61 On the role of the Homeric Hymns in the Hellenistic and Imperial times, see Faulkner 2011, 177–196.

20  José B. Torres

Bibliography Athanassakis, Apostolos. The Orphic Hymns: Text, Translation, and Notes (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977). Bernabé, Alberto (ed.). Poetae epici graeci testimonia et fragmenta. II.1. Orphicorum et orphicis similium testimonia et fragmenta (Munich & Leipzig: Saur, 2004). Bernabé, Alberto (ed.). Poetae epici graeci testimonia et fragmenta. II.3. Musaeus, Linus, Epimenides, Papyrus Derveni, indices (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2007). Bernabé, Alberto. Orfeo y Eleusis. Synthesis 15 (2008), 13–36. Burgess, Jonathan. The Tradition of the Trojan War in Homer and the Epic Cycle (Baltimore & London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001). Burgess, Jonathan. Neoanalysis, Orality, and Intertextuality: An Examination of Homeric Motif Transference. Oral Tradition 21 (2006), 148–189. Cameron, Alan. Greek Mythography in the Roman World (Oxford: University Press, 2004). Chantraine, Pierre. Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque: Histoire des mots (Paris: Klincksieck, 1983–19842). Cuartero, Francesc J. Pseudo-Apol·lodor. Biblioteca. Vol. 1 (Barcelona: Fundació Bernat Metge, 2010). Currie, Bruno. Perspectives on Neoanalysis from the Archaic Hymns to Demeter, in: Relative Chronology in Early Greek Epic Poetry, edited by Øivind Andersen and Dag Haug (Cambridge: University Press, 2012), 184–209. Faulkner, Andrew. The Collection of Homeric Hymns from the Seventh to the Third Centuries BC, in: The Homeric Hymns: Interpretative Essays, edited by Andrew Faulkner (Oxford: University Press, 2011), 175–205. Frazer, James George. Apollodorus. The Library (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1921). Frazer, James George. Ovid. Fasti (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1931). Graf, Fritz. Eleusis und die orphische Dichtung Athens in vorhellenistischer Zeit (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1974). Graf, Fritz. Orfeo, Eleusis y Atenas, in: Orfeo y la tradición órfica: un reencuentro, edited by Alberto Bernabé and Francesc Casadesús (Madrid: Akal, 2008), 671–696. Gruppe, Otto. Orpheus, in: Ausführliches Lexicon der griechischen und römischen Mythologie, edited by Wilhelm Heinrich Roscher (Leipzig: Teubner, 1897–1902), vol. III.1, 1058–1207. Holland, Richard. Battos. Rh. Mus. 75 (1926), 156–183. Huys, Marc. Euripides and the ‘Tales from Euripides’: Sources of Apollodoros’ ‘Bibliotheca’? Rh. Mus. 140 (1997), 308–327. Kenens, Ulrike. The Sources of Ps. Apollodorus’s Library: a Case-study. QUCC 97 (2011), 129–146. Papathomopoulos, Manolis. Pour une nouvelle édition de la Bibliothèque d’Apollodore. Hellenica 26 (1973), 18–40. Parker, Robert. The Hymn to Demeter and the Homeric Hymns. G&R 38 (1991), 1–17. Platnauer, Maurice. Claudian (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1922). Richardson, Nicholas (ed.). The Homeric Hymn to Demeter (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1974). Schwartz, Eduard. Die apollodorische Bibliothek. RE I.2 (1894), 2875–2886. Sfameni Gasparro, Giulia. Misteri e culti mistici di Demetra (Roma: ‘L’Erma’ di Bretschneider, 1986).

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Torres, José. La Tebaida homérica como fuente de Ilíada y Odisea (Madrid: Fundación Pastor de Estudios Clásicos, 1995). Torres, José. The Homeric Hymns, Cornutus’ Compendium and the Mythographical Stream, in: The Reception of the Homeric Hymns, edited by Andrew Faulkner, Athanassios Vergados and Andreas Schwab (Oxford: University Press, 2016), 187–202. Tsagalis, Christos. The Oral Palimpsest: Exploring Intertextuality in the Homeric Epics (Washington: Harvard University Press, 2008). Tsagalis, Christos. Towards an Oral, Intertextual Neoanalysis. Trends in Classics 3 (2011), 209–244. Van der Valk, Marchinus. On Apollodori Bibliotheca. Rev. Ét. Grec. 71 (1958), 100–168. Vergados, Athanassios (ed.). The Homeric Hymn to Hermes: Introduction, Text and Commentary (Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter, 2013). Wendel, Carl. Mythographie. RE XVI.2 (1935), 1352–1374. West, Martin (ed.). Homeric Hymns. Homeric Apocrypha. Lives of Homer (Cambridge Mass.London: Harvard University Press, 2003).

Jaume Pòrtulas

3 From Panyassis to Pseudo-Apollodorus: The Resurrection of Tyndareus 1. One of the most discussed passages in Pseudo-Apollodorus is the list of those resurrected by Asclepius. According to the most common tradition, one of these resurrections (or maybe the multiplication thereof) sparked the anger of Zeus, whose concern it is to maintain the cosmic order, an essential feature of which is the irreversibility of the death of men.1 Zeus struck the audacious healer with a thunderbolt, together with the beneficiary, or beneficiaries, of the transgressive resurrection. This is the passage of the Bibliotheca (3.10.3 [121]) where the list of the resurrected is given: εὗρον δέ τινας λεγομένους ἀναστῆναι ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ, Καπανέα καὶ Λυκοῦργον, ὡς Στησίχορός φησιν Ἐριφύλῃ, Ἱππόλυτον, ὡς ὁ τὰ Ναυπακτικὰ συγγράψας λέγει, Τυνδάρεων, ὥς φησι Πανύασσις, Ὑμέναιον, ὡς οἱ Ὀρφικοὶ λέγουσι, Γλαῦκον τὸν Μίνωος, ὡς Μελησαγόρας λέγει. I have found some who are said to have been raised by him, namely, Capaneus and Lycurgus according to Stesichorus in the Eriphyle; and Hippolytus, according to the author of the Naupactica, and Tyndareus, according to Panyassis, and Hymenaeus, according to the Orphics, and finally Glaucus, the son of Minos, according to Melesagoras.2

It is not the aim of this article to further elaborate on the complex problems raised by this passage; in particular, I shall not discuss whether or not it is a marginal gloss which was later introduced in the text of the Bibliotheca. Many editors and commentators, from Ch.G. Heyne onwards, have adopted this point of view; others (e. g. Scarpi 1996, 580–581; Cameron 2004, 100) have tried to refute it. I see

Note: I would like to thank Jordi Pàmias for the wonderful organization of the symposium Apollodoriana. In the discussion that followed my presentation, Professors Glenn W. Most and Alberto Bernabé made useful comments, which I tried to take into account in the final version. Xavier Riu and Victòria Alsina also read draft versions of this text. The English translation is by Patrick Roca. 1 Edelstein & Edelstein (1945) 1998, 2.46–53. 2 Translation by Hard 1997. Regarding this famous passage and the problems it entails, vide Van der Valk 1958, 107–114; Henrichs 1975, 5–12; Carrière & Massonie 1991, 233–234; Scarpi 1996, 580– 581; Cameron 2004, 99–103; Villagra 2011, 133–136. Jaume Pòrtulas, Universitat de Barcelona DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-003

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no cogent reason for considering the passage an interpolation: the arguments of Frazer et al. have been convincingly answered by subsequent scholars. It will be recalled that similar information – that is, similar enough to exclude any pure and simple coincidence – can also be found in other sources; more specifically, the following: Philodemus, De pietate 247 IV b (p. 80 Schober); 1609 V, 5–19 (p. 99 Schober). Sextus Empiricus, adversus Mathematicos 1.260–2. Scholia on Euripides, Alcestis 1 (2.216 Schwartz). Scholia on Pindar, Pythian 3.96 (2.75–76 Drachmann).3

Scholars have established with a high degree of probability that the five lists of those resurrected by Asclepius are all based on a much older source, which may be the Περὶ θεῶν of Apollodorus of Athens.4 The most faithful reflection of this lost model (albeit in a shortened form) is not Pseudo-Apollodorus,5 but rather the oldest text, and apparently the most complete one, among those listed above; namely, the De pietate of Philodemus of Gadara. In table 1 (p. 24) there is a complete list of those ‘resurrected’ by Asclepius, according to the fontes.6

2. The body of myths about those resurrected by Asclepius exemplifies clearly how much ancient mythographical discourse has shaped the modern comprehension of single myths, by organizing them into articulated corpora. We said at the beginning that, according to the most common tradition, one of these resurrections sparked the anger of Zeus, whose concern it is to maintain cosmic order. This is a synthesis of what we are told by Philodemus, the Bibliotheca and other late summaries. However, Zeus’ concern about cosmic order is not spoken of by Stesichorus, by Panyassis or by the Carmen ­Naupactium; nor by Pindar and Euripides, who also allude to the punishment of Asclepius. When, for example, Stesichorus explained (in the Eriphyle, according to some of our sources) that Asclepius raised Capaneus and Lycurgus, two sacrilegious blasphemers, the 3 Account should also be taken of Hyg. Fab. 49. 4 Hypothesis first suggested by Felix Jacoby; accepted by Cameron 2004, 99–103, and others. 5 Van der Valk 1958, 107–120 argued that the Bibliotheca was the source for the most recent among these texts (i. e. the Scholia on Pindar and Euripides), and that, on the other hand, it did not rely at all on the oldest ones (Philodemus and Sextus Empiricus). This view was refuted by Alan Cameron. 6 Based on the table of Cameron (2004: 101), with some minor corrections which do not affect his point (he aims at establishing that none of these sources had direct knowledge of the texts that they mentioned). I add, in small capitals and between square brackets, the ancient authorities cited by each of these sources.

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 Jaume Pòrtulas

Table 1: List of heroes ‘resurrected’ by Asclepius Ps-Apollodorus Schol. Euripides

Sext. Empiricus

Schol. Pindar Philodemus

Capaneus & Lycurgus [Stesichorus]

Capaneus & Lycurgus [Stesichorus]

τινες τῶν ἐπὶ Θήβαις πεσόντων [Stesichorus]

Capaneus & Capaneus& Lycurgus Lycurgus [Stesichorus] [Stesichorus]

Tyndareus [Panyassis]

Tyndareus [Panyassis]

Tyndareus [Panyassis]

Tyndareus [οἱ δὲ]

(1)

οἱ ἐν Δελφοῖς θνήσκοντες [Pherecydes]

(1)

Hippolytus [Naupactia, Telestes, Cynesias]

οἱ ἐν Δελφοῖς θνήσκοντες [Pherecydes] Hippolytus [Naupactia]

Hippolytus [Apollodorus]

Hippolytus [Staphylus]

Hippolytus [οἱ δὲ]

Phineus’ sons [Phylarcus]

Phineus’ sons [Phylarcus]

Phineus’ sons [Phylarcus]

Hymenaeus [Orphics]

Hymenaeus [Orphics]

Hymenaeus [Orphics]

Glaucus [Melesagoras]

Glaucus [Melesagoras]

Glaucus [οἱ δὲ]

Proitides [Polyarchus]

Proitides [Polyarchus]

Proitides [οἱ δὲ]

Orion [Telesarchus]

Orion [Telesarchus]

Orion [οἱ δὲ]

(1) Philodemus also mentions that, according to Panyassis and Pherecydes of Athens (FGrH 3F35c Jacoby = 35 Fowler in app.), Zeus struck Asclepius with a thunderbolt; but we cannot know for sure if he did it to punish him for any transgression, nor which transgression it may have been, though we can speculate that it probably did not differ much from the better-known versions. Furthermore, regarding the death of Asclepius at the hands of Zeus, Philodemus quotes a host of authors unparalleled in other sources: Hesiod, Pisander, Andron of Ephesus, Acusilaus, Euripides (Alcestis 3), Telestes and the Nostoi. In no case, however, does he provide details about who was resurrected (or at least cured) by Asclepius.

tale does not seem to be dealing with any explicit threat to the cosmic order. We simply do not know why Asclepius took the enormous risk of resurrecting two sworn enemies of Zeus. To assume that the threat to Zeus’ supremacy and the cosmic order was obvious and did not need mentioning seems to me anachronistic. Nor does the Orphic myth of the resurrection of Hymenaeus fit well with this kind of scheme. The (implicit) version of the tale in the Alcestis of Euripides

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(cf. vv. 3–4; 122–130) does not go in this direction either, if we take into account that the drama culminated with the successful resurrection of its protagonist. As for the later authors, each of them had his own reasons and criteria for explaining these resurrection tales – leaving aside the scholarly impulse of recalling and systematizing traditional lore. However, a systematic review of all this material is out of place here; therefore, in order not to remain at a far too general level, the bulk of this paper will be devoted to the resurrection of Tyndareus. As we have just seen, three of our five authors (Sextus Empiricus, the Biblio­ theca and the Scholia on Euripides) explicitly state that the source for the story of Asclepius resurrecting Tyndareus is Panyassis of Halicarnassus, without clarifying if Panyassis told the story in extenso or simply referred to it. The Scholia on Pindar’s Pythian 3 also mention Tyndareus among those resurrected by Asclepius, giving as a source of the tale a vague ‘some’ (οἱ δέ). And, as regards Philodemus, he merely states that, according to Panyassis, Zeus struck Asclepius with a thunderbolt. Although Philodemus does not mention Tyndareus at any moment, scholars usually have no doubt that the mention of Panyassis is a strong indication that Philodemus refers to the same tale. The editors of Panyassis gather all five texts into one single fragment (19 Kinkel / Matthews = 26 Bernabé = 19 Davies = 5 West). All of them organize the information in quite a similar way, albeit with differences of detail.7 However, there is no agreement on the context in which Panyassis may have told (or, at least, alluded to) Tyndareus’ tale. Karl Otfried Müller related this episode to the war between Heracles and the sons of Hippocoon, a war which resulted in the restoration of Tyndareus and his sons to the throne of Sparta.8 Franz Stoessl disagrees:9 he relates the resurrection of Tyndareus to the tale of Alcestis. Stoessl believes that this resurrection takes place in the context of the episode of the mares of Diomedes, “presuming that Panyassis also told of Heracles calling on Admetus on his way to Thrace” (Matthews 1974, 109). But Stoessl’s hypothesis gives rise

7 All of them take as a starting point the Scholia on Euripides, with the significant exception of Martin West, who takes as a basis the text of Sextus Empiricus. Davies offers a wider selection of material from Philodemus than other editors. West is the only one who mentions the Scholia on Pythian 3. The other editors ignore them because, although the scholiast mentions the resurrection of Tyndareus, he does not specify that his source is Panyassis. 8 Cf. Müller 1830, 534. This episode is also told by Apollod. Bibl. 2.7.3 [143–145]; Diod. Sic. 4.33.5-6; Paus. 3.15.3–5; 3.19.7. These battles were dealt with in a passage of the Partheneion of Alcman which has reached us, albeit mutilated (PMGF, 1.1–15). Cf. Cuartero 1972, 29–37; Ferrari 2008, 20–29. 9 RE, s.u. Panyassis (1949, 878–879; 913).

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to strong reservations;10 it can safely be said that most scholars favour the first hypothesis.11 It is easy to agree that Müller’s proposal (supported by Matthews) is more convincing than that of Stoessl, but this is not our concern here. The present paper sets itself the following objectives: a) to explore the family relationship between Asclepius and Tyndareus; b) to refer to some legends which connect the Spartan ruler and Asclepius; c) briefly to revisit certain cults of Asclepius in Lacedaemonia; d) Proposing a relatively close parallel to the resurrection of Tyndareus. All this will be of little use to reconstruct Panyassis’ poem, or any of its episodes. But in a volume dedicated to Pseudo-Apollodorus and to the mythographical discourse, I hope that it will contribute to a better understanding of the tale of Tyndareus’ resurrection by Asclepius.

3. It must be borne in mind in the first place that, in Sparta and Messenia, the lineage of Asclepius has nothing to do with the Thessalian tale of Apollo and Coronis, as celebrated in Pindar’s wonderful Pythian 3. Pausanias himself, a staunch advocate of the primacy of the tale of Coronis, reminds us that the lineage of Asclepius was the object of fierce disputes. One of the versions (albeit the least credible one, according to the Periegete) was that Asclepius was a grandson of Leucippus, a Messenian hero, brother (or rather half-brother) of Tyndareus. See Pausanias 2.26.7 (= T36 Edelstein):12 The third account is, in my opinion, the farthest from the truth, making Asclepius to be the son of Arsinoe, the daughter of Leucippus [… It is] quite clear that Asclepius was not a son of Arsinoe, and that the story was a fiction invented by Hesiod, or by one of Hesiod’s interpolators, just to please the Messenians.

The Hesiodic Corpus was the main evidence in this matter for the ancients, as Pausanias’ last words remind us. It is also the main evidence for modern philo­ logists. The discussion as to whether the Catalogue claims Coronis or Arsinoe to be the mother of Asclepius (the father is always Apollo) is one of the most intricate aspects in the delicate process of reconstruction of the Hesiodic fragments. Wilamowitz, in one of his early masterpieces, Isyllos von Epidauros (1886, 77–80), postulated that both versions coexisted in an unorganized fashion in the Catalogue.

10 Cf. Lloyd-Jones 1976, 505. 11 Cf. Tzshirner 1842, 70 (non vidi, but see Matthews); Huxley 1969, 186 (who, without completely excluding the second possibility, clearly prefers the first one); and Matthews 1974, 108–110. 12 Translation by Edelstein & Edelstein 1945 = 1998. See also Scholia on Pindar, Pyth. 3.14 (= T37 Edelstein); Paus. 4.3.1-2; 3.26.4 (T38, T39 Edelstein).

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His authority caused this view to be widely accepted,13 although in itself it is rather improbable; M.L. West and other scholars convincingly rebutted it.14 West considers that, in the Catalogue, Asclepius was the son of Apollo and Arsinoe,15 and that Coronis appeared there in a different context.16 Many years ago, Friedrich Leo ((1894) 1960, 351) already suggested that Coronis may be the mother of Asclepius in the Megalai Ehoiai, while Arsinoe may have this role in the Catalogue.17 More recently, D’Alessio (2005, 208–210) has attempted to invert these attributions by associating Coronis with the Catalogue and Arsinoe with the Megalai Ehoiai. This question remains open and it will probably stay so for long.18 At this point, it is enough to remember that, according to Laconian and Messenian genealogies, Arsinoe, mother of Asclepius, is the daughter of Leucippus, son of Perieres, brother of Aphareus and half-brother of Tyndareus and Hippocoon. A genealogical chart showing the relationship between Tyndareus and Asclepius is reproduced below (p. 28). This chart – a simple adaptation to our needs of the charts contained in the works of M.L. West and Claude Calame –19 is mostly based on the brief and fairly simple text of Pausanias 3.1.4–5, with some additions and amendments. Next to Pausanias, the most significant source for the history of Tyndareus’ family is the Bibliotheca of Pseudo-Apollodorus, together with the Scholia to Euripides’ 13 Edelstein & Edelstein (1945) 1998, 2.24–34 still struggle to preserve what they can of Wilamowitz’s interpretation, in a sometimes forced manner. See also Solimano 1976, 16–22. 14 Cf. West (1985, 70): “Are we to assume that the story of Asklepios and Apollo appeared in two places, with two different mothers for Asklepios? Wilamowitz did assume it; he argued that the Ehoie was the original and that another poet, whose Asklepios was a Messenian instead of a Thessalian, imitated it. This was at least a tenable position for one who regarded the ­Catalogue/Ehoiai as a conglomerate built up over a period of time. But now […] such a gross contradiction and duplication can no longer be credited”. 15 The loves of Apollo and Arsinoe and the birth of Asclepius may have been narrated in the Hesiodic fragments 50–58 M-W, corresponding roughly to the fragments 53–60 of Most edition, where the whole sequence is entitled: “Arsinoe, the Daughter of Leucippus, Another Son of Perieres, and Her Son: Asclepius (and His Son Machaon)”. 16 Coronis may be referred to in fragments 60–62 M-W = 164 (‘Coronis’), 239–240 (‘Coronis’ Betrayal of Apollo’), in the edition of Most, who wonders whether they should be associated with the Megalai Ehoiai. 17 Needless to say that such discussions make little sense if we follow scholars like Casanova (1979, 217–240) who believe that the Megalai Ehoiai were just a larger version of the Catalogue. 18 We cannot deal here with additional issues, such as the fact that fragment 52 M-W = 57 Most (mentioned by the Scholia to Theog. 142) talks about an alleged “Catalogue of the Leucippides” with more than one possible identification; or the remarkable information given by a scholium on Pyth. 3.14 that, according to Aristides of Miletus (FGrH 444F1 Jacoby), ​​Arsinoe, daughter of Leucippus, was called Coronis when she was a young girl (παρθένος οὖσα ὠνομάζετο Κορωνίς, Λευκίππου δὲ θυγάτηρ ἦν τοῦ Ἀμύκλα). 19 West 1985, 180; Calame 1987, 181. See also Solimano 1976, 73–75; Fowler 2013, 421.

(1) Pausanias does not say explicitly that Hippocoon was the illegitimate half-brother of Tyndareus. This can probably be deduced from the passage where he explains that Hippocoon ἠμφισβήτει ᾧ (= Tyndareus) περὶ τῆς βασιλείας, because he was the oldest brother (κατὰ πρεσβείαν ἔχειν ἠξίου τὴν ἀρχήν; vide infra, p. 31). If, in addition to being the oldest brother, he had been legitimate, the problem would not even have arisen. It is Apollod. 3.10.4 [123] who says that Hippocoon was the illegitimate son of the nymph Bateia. (2) On the double marriage of Gorgophone, cf. Paus. 2.21.7: “When her husband Perieres, whom she married as a virgin, had died, she was married again to Oebalus: she was the first woman ever to do such a thing; until then the tradition was for women to be widows when their husband died”. (3) About the marriage of Aphareus and Arene, cf. Paus. 4.2.4: “Aphareus was the more important; in his reign he founded the city of Arene, which he named after Oebalus’ daughter: she was his wife and his sister, his own mother’s daughter”.

                 |                   |                       |      Bateia   ∞   Oebalus      ∞      Gorgophone2            ∞    Perieres             |        __________|____________              ________|_________         Hippocoon1   Tyndareus   Icarius  Arene3     ∞   Aphareus     Leucippus             |        |                     |            ________|________          Hippocoontidae   Castor & Polydeuces        Apharetidae     Hilaeira & Phoebe   Arsinoe       |                                Asclepius

               Cynortas               Perseus                    Aeolus

Table 2: Genealogical chart (Tyndareus and Asclepius)

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Orestes (v. 457) and to Homer, Iliad, 2.581–586 (Erbse). In each and every one of these texts, the main story-lines of the tale are similar; however, genealogy is subject to variations, be it to express alternative points of view on power relations between the various proto-historical groups,20 or with a view to introducing more order and clarity in complex and rather unsystematic traditions,21 or maybe simply as a result of different instances of confusion and contamination.22 At one point, Pseudo-Apollodorus (3.10.3 [117]) gives the following summary, which quite significantly differs with respect to the proposal of Pausanias: Cynortas had a son, Perieres, who married Gorgophone, daughter of Perseus, according to Stesichorus (PMG 227 Page), and fathered Tyndareus, Icarius, Aphareus, and Leucippus. Aphareus and Arene, daughter of Oebalus, had three sons, Lynceus, Idas, and Peisos […] Leucippus had two daughters, Hilaeira and Phoebe, who were carried off by the Dioscuri, and became their wives. In addition to these, he had a third daughter, Arsinoe, who gave birth to Asclepius after Apollo had made love with her. Some say, however, that Asclepius was not the son of Arsinoe, daughter of Leucippus, but rather of Coronis, daughter of Phlegyas in Thessaly.23

Calame (1987, 168) is right to say that this is an “attempt to manipulate the legend to bring Messenia back under the genealogical jurisdiction of Sparta”. The fact that this variant is explicitly attributed to Stesichorus constitutes additional evidence pointing in the same direction. The Bibliotheca, however, does not retain this version in a consistent way; a few lines further down (3.10.4 [123]), Pseudo-Apollodorus formulates a new, distinct, version in terms which pose multiple problems of interpretation: εἰσὶ δὲ οἱ λέγοντες Ἀφαρέα μὲν καὶ Λεύκιππον ἐκ Περιήρους γενέσθαι τοῦ Αἰόλου, Κυνόρτου δὲ Περιήρην, τοῦ δὲ Οἴβαλον, Οἰβάλου δὲ καὶ νηίδος νύμφης Βατείας Τυνδάρεων Ἱπποκόωντα Ἰκάριον. But there are those who say that Aphareus and Leucippus were born to Perieres, son of Aeolus; and that Perieres, son of Cynortas, was the father of Oebalus, who fathered Tyndareus, Hippocoon, and Icarius, by a naiad nymph, Bateia.

20 See Calame 1987. This article illustrates very clearly how variations in genealogical patterns may reflect the changing power relations between groups sharing a limited physical space. 21 Cf. e. g. West 1985, 67 n. 86: “Aphareus and Leucippus are given as sons of Perieres and Gorgophone […] Two genealogies have been conflated here…” 22 Cuartero 2010, 156 n. 271: “Les dades s’emboliquen tant per l’existència de diferents ajustaments genealògics com per errors, sembla, en la interpretació de les fonts”. 23 Transl. by Hard 1997. See also Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.5 [87], who says more or less the same, in a more concise way.

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It is not clear here whether Perieres was the son of Aeolus or of Cynortas; there it is probably something wrong with this text. Were the son of Perieres and the son of Aeolus two different characters, each with his own lineage and offspring?24 To complicate matters further, the scholiasts on Pindar and Euripides also have their own version of these genealogies. A look at the following tables is enough to realize the magnitude of the confusion. I firstly present the two versions of Pseudo-Apollodorus, which are scarcely compatible with each other, as we have seen; and then that of the scholiasts, who are in agreement, although their version does depart from the Bibliotheca: Table 3: Perieres’ confusing genealogies (1) Pseudo Apollodorus, Bibl. 1.9.5 [87]; 3.10.3 [117]      Amyclas        |      Cynortas       Perseus        |            |       Perieres  ∞  Gorgophone              |     _________________________________    Tyndareus  Icarius Aphareus Leucippus (2) Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibl. 3.10. 4 [123]      Aeolus            Cynortas        |               |      Perieres            Perieres   ________|________    _________________|__________________ Aphareus    Leucippus Tyndareus      Icarius      Hippocoon (νόθος) (3) The version of the scholiasts (ad Il. 2.581-586; ad Eur. Or. 457):                     Perieres                        |                     Oebalus             __________________|_________________        Tyndareus    Icarius   Arene    Hippocoon (νόθος)

24 Cf. Frazer 1921, 2.20–21: “Pausanias consistently represents Perieres as the son of Aeolus, and this tradition had the support of Hesiod [fr. 10 M-W]. On the other hand Tzetzes represents Perieres as the son of Cynortas (Schol. on Lycoph. 551). Apollodorus here and elsewhere mentions both traditions without deciding between them. In two passages (1.7.3 [51]; 1.9.5 [87]) he asserts or implies that the father of Perieres was Aeolus; in another passage (3.10.3 [117]) he asserts that the father of Perieres was Cynortas. In the present passage he seems to say that according to one tradition there were two men of the name Perieres…”. See also Carrière & Massonie 1991, 169; 235.

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4. Let us now briefly recall the quarrels between the descendants of Perieres (or those of Perieres and Oebalus, according to other versions). Here is the summary of this intrafamiliar war as reported by Pausanias (3.1.4-5; English transl. by P. Levi):

Cynortas’ son was Oebalus, who married Perseus’s daughter Gorgophone from Argos and had a son called Tyndareus. Hippocoon quarrelled with Tyndareus over the crown, thinking he should have it because he was older. Icarius and the revolutionary party were on his side so he was much more powerful than Tyndareus and frightened him away. The Laconians say he went to Pellana, but the Messenians have a legend about him in which Tyndareus goes into exile to Messenia with Aphareus the son of Perieres, who was Tyndareus’s brother on his mother’s side. They say Tyndareus lived at Thalamai in Messenia and his sons were born there. Some time later Heracles brought Tyndareus home, and he renewed his reign. The sons of Tyndareus became kings, and so did Menealos son of Atreus who married Tyndareus’ daughter…

To account for these fights, our sources mention a variety of motives for hostility: the support granted by the Hippocoontidae to the sons of Neleus in the wars of Pylos against Heracles, which infuriated the hero; the murder, also by the Hippocoontidae, of the young Eonos, who was the son of Lycimnius, brother of Alcmena and, thus, a cousin of Heracles.25 According to Pausanias (3.15.3), the war stems first and foremost from the fact that the Hippocoontidae refused to purify the hero from the blood of Iphitus; but one of the enjeux of these confrontations was always the restoration of the rights of Tyndareus and his descent. Thus, according to Apollodorus (2.7.3 [145]), “after he had killed Hippocoon and his sons and taken control of the city, Heracles recalled Tyndareus and entrusted the kingdom to him”.26 These battles became part of the collective memory of the inhabitants of Lacedaemonia, in the form of tales which would eventually be given a poetic shape by Alcman and Stesichorus, but also through a series of sanctuaries and cults. Many of these sanctuaries have connections with ­Asclepius, who, as the son of a daughter of Leucippus, was related to both quarrelling sides. Pausanias tells us that there were four sanctuaries of Asclepius in Sparta: three in the town itself and a fourth one on the road to Therapne. Archaeologists have so far failed to identify the exact location of one of the three urban temples, the sanctuary “at the Agiadae” (cf. Paus. 3.14.2). The Periegete says of another one, built along Sparta’s famous dromos (3.14.7): The sanctuary of Agnites stands on the right of the Race-course. Agnites is a title of ­Asclepius, because the god had a wooden idol made of agnus castus; this is a kind of vitex,

25 Apollod. Bibl. 2.7.3 [143]. Cf. Cuartero 2012, 120–121 with nn. 400–405. 26 Diodorus Siculus’ version (4.33.7-11) is virtually identical.

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in the same way as buckthorn. Not far from Asclepius stands a trophy; the story is that Polydeuces put it up after beating Lynceus, which seems to me another demonstration of how likely it is that the sons of Aphareus were not buried at Sparta.27

Richer (2012, 538 n. 444) points out: “Asclépios Agnitas est désigné par une épithète sans doute peu fréquente mais connue par ailleurs et qui doit porter une idée de purification.” As regards the third urban temple, Pausanias (3.15.10) says that it is “τῶν Ἀσκλη­ πιείων τὸ ἐπιφανέστατον”, the most famous of all the sanctuaries of Asclepius, which may be so because of its privileged situation close to the agora.28 This Asclepieon was located close to a temple of Hera which has a foundational aition related to the struggles of Heracles: the temple took the title of Hera Αἰγόφαγος because, in the course of the fight against Hipocoon’s sons, Heracles had sacrificed goats to the goddess, who welcomed the offering and who, rather unusually, did not express hostility to the hero (Paus. 3.15.9). Very close to it there was also a heroon of Teleclus, the half-legendary king of Sparta who began hostilities against the Messenians. Even more interesting to us is the sanctuary of Asclepius which stood on the way to Therapne, beyond the Eurotas. It was the temple of Asclepius Cotyleus, also built by Heracles himself. The hero gave Asclepius the title Pelvic (Κοτυλεύς) because it was here that Asclepius cured him of the wound in the pelvis (κοτύλη) he received in his first battle with Hippocoon and his sons.29 A few pages later (3.20.5), Pausanias mentions again this wound of Heracles which Asclepius managed to cure; he says that, not far from the top of the Taygetus, there was a sanctuary of Demeter Eleusinia in which the Laconians say that Asclepius hid Heracles while his wound was healing. At the top of the hill (not far, then, from Heracles’ hiding place) the Spartans later practiced sacrifices of horses:30 a very archaic 27 The last sentence is somewhat enigmatic. Scholars usually think that Pausanias means that “if the fight was here, Lynceus would have been buried here” (Levi 1971, 2.49 n. 113). Musti & Torelli 1991, 217 claim that the passage contains an allusion to the Therapne cults, “sede antichissima della religione dei Tindaridi, come ribadisce lo stesso Pausania, sia pure in maniera ellittica, parlando della loro sepoltura”. 28 Cf. Musti & Torelli 1991, 222. 29 Paus. 3.19.7. Cf. Musti & Torelli 1991, 248: “Appena traversato il fiume, ecco un Asklepieion, dove il dio viene venerato col singolare epiteto di Kotyleus, ricollegato ancora una volta alla lotta tra Eracle e gli Ippocoontidi. Secondo Pausania, l’epiteto allude alla κοτύλη, ‘anca’ o, più precisamente, ‘acetabolo’, ma sembra essere spiegato altrimenti da Sosibio (FGrH 595F13), il quale attribuisce al termine il senso di ‘cavo della mano’. Possibile anche un rapporto con κοτύλη, ‘ciottola’, interpretando questa come la pozione medica offerta dal dio”. 30 Paus. 3.20.4. Cf. Musti & Torelli 1991, 255 ad loc.: “…l’arcaicissimo sacrificio del cavallo, che con un buon tratto di etnologo Pausania accosta a quello persiano, spesso collegato dai moderni studiosi, assieme al corrispondente greco, a tradizioni indoeuropee”.

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form of sacrifice, which was particularly linked in local legends to the name of Tyndareus.31 There was yet another sanctuary of Asclepius in a hamlet that was the ancient site of the city of Pellana. They say that Tyndareus settled here when Hippocoon and his sons drove him out of Sparta.32 In this last case, the connection between Asclepius and Tyndareus is only implicit, but it is not hard to see.33 Most episodes of this tale match the patterns of a heroic war of annihilation. But the whole tale shows fairly atypical features, which invite us to see something more in it than simply warfare. Let us mention a few of them: 1. An unusual sacrifice to Hera Αἰγόφαγος, surprisingly welcomed by the goddess.34 2. Heracles receives a wound to his pelvis (κοτύλη), which can been seen as a ritual wound – a wound that gets a special treatment and becomes the aition of a cult. 3. During his convalescence, Heracles remains hidden, on the orders of Asclepius, in the sanctuary of Demeter Eleusinia. 4. In one of the sanctuaries of Asclepius commemorating the saga, the god has a statue presenting very archaic features; it is a vitex wood βρέτας. 5. The cult of Tyndareus also shows some very archaic features, for example the well-known slaughter and burial of horses, perhaps a survival of Indo-­ European ritual.35

5. Until now we have been examining the relationships between Asclepius and Tyndareus. A plausible scenario for the resurrection of Tyndareus still has to be proposed. Within the vast array of myths about Heracles and his descent, there is, actually, a tale which shows several rather strong similarities with the resurrection of Tyndareus. This is the rejuvenation/ resurrection of Iolaus, Heracles’ nephew, during the last battle of the sons of Heracles against Eurystheus. I am not referring to the usual version of the tale, as in e. g. the Heraclidae of Euripides, because in this tragedy only the extraordinary r­ ejuvenation of the old hero is enacted. I am

31 Cf. Paus. 3.20.9, a paragraph dealing with the oath which was imposed by Tyndareus on the suitors of his daughter Helen. See also Richer 2012, 259 n. 82; 531 n. 358. 32 Paus. 3.21.2. 33 There was yet another Laconian cult of Asclepius at Leuctra, related to the memory of Leucippus and Arsinoe (cf. Paus. 3.26.4). Musti & Torelli, 1991: 284 say: “Leutra, a meno di 4 chilometri di Pefno, diventa, insieme con Pefno, la culla degli intrecciati miti dei Dioscuri, degli Afaretidi, delle Leucippidi (le fanciulle contese dai cugini dei due rami)”. On the sanctuary of Asclepius in Messenia, see Paus. 4.31.12. 34 Cf. Brelich 1969, 361. 35 Cf. Paus. 3.20. 4, 9.

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thinking rather of another version of the tale, which has reached us solely through a Pindaric scholium (Schol. Pyth. 9.137a; 2.233 Drachmann).36 This version clearly talks of a resurrection: ὁ γὰρ Ἰόλαος τεθνηκὼς ἐπειδὴ ἔμαθεν Εὐρυσθέα ἐξαιτούμενον παρ’ Ἀθηναίων τοὺς Ἡρακλείδας καὶ ἐπαπειλοῦντα πόλεμον, εἰ μὴ δώσουσιν, εὔξατο ἀναβιῶναι, καὶ ἀναβιώσας ἀπέκτεινε τὸν Εὐρυσθέα καὶ πάλιν τέθνηκεν. οἱ δὲ πρὸς τὸ πιθανώτερον ἕλκουσι τὴν ἱστορίαν, ὅτι γέρων ὢν ηὔξατο ἀνηβῆσαι, καὶ τελέσας τὸν ἆθλον εὐθέως ἐτελεύτα. Iolaus was dead; but when he understood that Eurystheus claimed Heracles’ sons from the city of Athens and that he threatened war if these were not delivered, he begged for resurrection. Once resurrected, he killed Eurystheus and died again. Other sources push the tale in the direction of the more believable and say that Iolaus, already very old, begged to be rejuvenated. And after accomplishing the feat, he died immediately.37

Of course, both Iolaus’ and Tyndareus’ resurrections show clear differences, which should be stressed from the outset. Starting with what matters most, Asclepius plays no role in the resurrection of Iolaus.38 But there are also undeniable similarities. A most significant point is the fact that, in Euripides’ Heraclidae, Iolaus himself emphatically evokes, at a key moment, the ancient wars of Sparta (cf. vv. 740 ss.): εἴθ’, ὦ βραχίων, οἷον ἡβήσαντά σε μεμνήμεθ’ ἡμεῖς, ἡνίκα ξὺν Ἡρακλεῖ Σπάρτην ἐπόρθεις, σύμμαχος γένοιό μοι τοιοῦτος· O my right arm, how I remember your young strength, When you, with Heracles, sacked Sparta! Ah, could you But offer now the same true service…39

36 Another tale between healing and resurrection is that of Hippolytus; cf. Villagra 2011, 141 n. 47. 37 The scholium in question is also quoted by Gantz (1993, 465), albeit in a different context from that of the present discussion. Even those variants of the tale which do not speak of a resurrection, but only of a rejuvenation, usually emphasize the fact that, after gaining glory in the combat, Iolaus died. See e. g. the same scholium, infra: τὸν Ἰόλαον, ἐπειδὴ τῇ τοῦ ξίφους ἀκμῇ τὴν τοῦ Εὐρυσθέως κεφαλὴν ἀπέτεμεν, ὑποκάτω τῆς γῆς ἔκρυψαν παρὰ τῷ τάφῳ τοῦ ἱππικωτά­ του Ἀμφιτρύωνος. We can wonder whether he was going down to the tomb for the first time or was returning there. 38 In the discussion that followed the oral presentation of this paper, Professor Most noted that, while the resurrection of Iolaus is a positive development, with beneficial consequences for supporters of Heracles, the resurrection of Tyndareus has a negative connotation. In my opinion, however, Tyndareus’ resurrection was not always connoted negatively, but only when it is included in the resurrections by Asclepius, as this constitutes a threat to the order of Zeus. 39 Translation by Vellacott 1972.

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It seems as if Euripides wanted to bring closer the two cases of ἀναβίωσις which occurred in the immediate proximity of Heracles, without, however, giving excessive emphasis to this proximity. The fundamental point is, at least in my opinion, that the resurrection of both Tyndareus and Iolaos constitute separate sub-­ episodes of the saga of the ἥρως θεός. It is not surprising that the only (elusive) information which has reached us on the resurrection of Tyndareus comes from Panyassis’ Heracleia, although its context and its specific development are very uncertain to us. Bearing in mind this general context of the saga of Heracles, the similarities between the resurrections of Tyndareus and Iolaus become much clearer. Among them are: – The resurrection affects, in both cases, a loyal ally and companion of Heracles. – On both occasions, Heracles and/or his sons are leading a large coalition of allies. – The episode occurs at the critical moment of the fighting of Heracles and his allies against some kind of ‘archenemy’ (Hippocoon and his sons, Eurystheus...) Also puzzling is the fact that, in Euripides’ Heraclidae, Iolaus’ prayer and his rejuvenation and the death and burial of Eurystheus all occur in the Athenian demos of Pallene:40 a name that reminds us quite inevitably of that hamlet of Pellana, where Tyndareus settled when Hippocoon and his sons drove him out of Sparta (vide supra, p. 31 and 33). But this last point would lead us too far, so it will not be pursued for the moment. As I pointed out at the outset, a reconstruction of Panyassis’ Hera­ cleia seems unattainable at this stage of our current knowledge; but the obscure episode of the resurrection of Tyndareus may become clearer through mythographical analysis and comparison. Such was the intention of this paper.

Bibliogaphy Bernabé, Alberto. Poetae Epici Graeci. Testimonia et Fragmenta, Pars I (Leipzig: Teubner, 1987). Brelich, Angelo. Paides e parthenoi (Roma: Edizioni dell’Ateneo, 1969). Calame, Claude. Spartan Genealogies: The Mythological Representation of a Spatial Organisation, in: Interpretations of Greek Mythology, edited by J. Bremmer (London & Sidney: Croom Helm, 1987), 153–186.

40 Vide e. g. Wilkins’ commentary on the Heraclidae, 1993: xvi, xxv, 138, 140, 144, 164, etc.

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Cameron, Alan. Greek Mythography in the Roman World (Oxford: University Press, 2004). Carrière, Jean-Claude & Massonie, Bertrand. La Bibliothèque d’Apollodore. Traduite, annotée et commentée (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1991). Casanova, Angelo. Catalogo, Eèe e Grandi Eèe nella tradizione ellenistica. Prometheus 5 (1979), 217–240. Cuartero Iborra, Francesc J. El partenio del Louvre (fr. 1 Page). BIEH 6/2 (1972), 23–76. Cuartero Iborra, Francesc J. Pseudo-Apol·lodor. Biblioteca. Introducció, text revisat, traducció i notes (Barcelona: Fundació Bernat Metge, 2010 and 2012). D’Alessio, Gian Battista. The Megalai Ehoiai: A survey of the fragments, in: The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women. Constructions and Reconstructions, edited by R. Hunter (Cambridge: University Press, 2005), 176–216. Davies, Malcolm. Epicorum Graecorum Fragmenta (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1988). Devereux, Georges. Le miracle psychosomatique d’Iolaos: Une hypothèse, in: Tragédie et poésie grecques. Études ethnopsychanalitiques (Paris: Flammarion, 1975), 148–178. Edelstein, Emma Jeannette. & Edelstein, Levy. Asclepius. Collection and Interpretation of the Testimonies (Baltimore & London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1945 [Reprint 1998]). Ferrari, Gloria. Alcman and the Cosmos of Sparta (Chicago & London: The University of Chicago Press, 2008). Fowler, Robert L. Early Greek Mythography. Volume II: Commentary (Oxford: University Press, 2013). Frazer, James George. Apollodorus. The Library (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1921). Gantz, Timothy. Early Greek Myth. A Guide to Literary and Artistic Sources (Baltimore & London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993). Hard, Robin. Apollodorus. The Library of Greek Mythology. Translated with Introduction and Notes (Oxford: University Press, 1997). Henrichs, Albrecht. Philodems De pietate als mythographische Quelle. Cronache Ercolanesi 5 (1975), 5–38. Huxley, George L. Greek Epic Poetry from Eumelus to Panyassis (London: Faber and Faber, 1969). Leo, Friedrich. Hesiodea, in: Ausgewählte kleine Schriften II (Roma: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1960), 343–363 [First edition in: Index Scholarum, Göttingen, 1894]. Levi, Peter. Pausanias. Guide to Greece. Translated with an Introduction (Harmondsworth: Penguin Classics, 1971). Lloyd-Jones, Hugh. Review of Matthews (1974). Gnomon 48 (1976), 504–506. Matthews, Victor J. Panyassis of Halikarnassos. Text and Commentary (Leiden: Brill, 1974). Most, Glenn W. Hesiod (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2006–2007). Musti, Domenico & Torelli, Mauro. Pausania. Guida della Grecia. Libro III. La Laconia (Milano: Mondadori, 1991). Müller, Carl Otfried. History and Antiquities of the Doric Race. Translated by H. Tufnell & G.C. Lewis (Oxford: B.S. Collingwood, 1830). Richer, Nicolas. La religion des Spartiates (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2012). Scarpi, Paolo. Apollodoro. I miti greci. Traduzione di M.G. Ciani. (Milano: Mondadori, 1996). Schober, Adolf. Philodemi De Pietate, pars prior. Cronache Ercolanesi 18 (1988), 67–125.

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Smith, R. Scott & Trzaskoma, Stephen M. Apollodorus’ Library and Hyginus’ Fabulae. Two Handbooks of Greek Mythology (Indianapolis / Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company, 2007). Solimano, Giannina. Asclepio. Le aree del mito (Genova: Università di Genova. Istituto di Filologia Classica e Medievale, 1976). Stoessl, Franz. Panyassis. RE XVIII.3 (1949), 871–923, 1279–1280. Tzschirner, J. Pistotheus. Panyasidis Halicarnassei Heracleadis Fragmenta (Bratislava: A. Schulz & Co, 1842). Van der Valk, Marchinus. On Apollodori Bibliotheca. Rev. Ét. Grec. 71 (1958), 100–168. Vellacott, Philip. Euripides. Orestes and Other Plays. Translated with an Introduction (Harmondsworth: Penguin Classics, 1972). Villagra, Nereida. Hipólito curado por Asclepio: un nuevo fragmento de Asclepíades de Tragilo, in: Parva Mythographica, edited by J. Pàmias (Oberhaid: Utopica, 2011), 131–144. Wagner, Richard. Mythographi graeci I. Apollodori Bibliotheca (Leipzig: Teubner, 1926 [Reprint Stuttgart 1965]). West, Martin L. The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985). West, Martin L. Greek Epic Fragments (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003). Wide, Samuel K.A. Lakonische Kulte (Leipzig: Teubner, 1893). Wilamowitz-Moellerdorff, Ulrich von. Isyllos von Epidauros (Berlin: Weidmann, 1886 [Reprint Dublin, 1967]). Wilkins, James. Euripides. Heraclidae. Edited with Introduction and Commentary (Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1993).

Nereida Villagra

4 Lost in Tradition: Apollodorus and Tragedy-Related Texts 1 Introduction Whether Apollodorus consulted his sources directly or through intermediary sources is a subject still under discussion.1 It has been argued that Apollodorus depended on tragedy mainly through secondary texts such as hypotheseis. Huys tried to identify the relationship between Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca and Euripides and the Tales from Euripides, and concluded that Apollodorus did not quote the tragedies or the Tales at first-hand, but that the set of tragic hypotheseis and the Bibliotheca may sometimes derive from a common source, which he proposed was an Alexandrian scholarly work.2 Already in the fourth century there existed other tragedy-related texts, such as the Tragodoumena of Asclepiades of Tragilus which, according to Robert,3 were consulted by Apollodorus directly. The title of this work suggests that it was some

Note: This article was written with the support of a postdoctoral scholarship from the Fundação para a Ciência e a Tecnologia of Portugal, and by the Centro de Estudos Clássicos of the Universidade de Lisboa (SFRH/BPD/90803/2012). 1 Huys 1997, 309–310, n. 6, 8 with bibliography; Kenens 2011, 130–131, n. 1, 2, 3 gives more bibliography. See also Scarpi 1996; Cuartero 2010. 2 Huys writes: “Still, this case proves that the Library contains sequences that go back at least to material used also by the author of the Tales [from Euripides] … It seems likely, then, that one of these collections of hypotheses was a source of the Library, but it cannot be proved that the mythographer himself excerpted this source. As to the possibility that he would have consulted the text of Euripides, this seems very improbable, and even for the prologues, which might have been included in a collection of hypotheses, the arguments used do not convince me. Apollodorus was indebted, directly or more probably indirectly, perhaps through the intermediary of a mythographical manual, to Alexandrian scholarship, hypotheses and learned commentaries’ (1997, 325–326). On the tragic hypotheseis and the Tales from Euripides see Wilamowitz-­Moellendorf 1875, 182–184; Barrett 1965; Zuntz 1955; Rusten 1982; Haslam 1975; van Rossum-Steenbeek 1998; Meccariello 2014. 3 Robert 1873, 55. Nereida Villagra, Universidade de Lisboa DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-004



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sort of commentary on tragedies. Since all the fragments are mythographical,4 one would expect the Tragodoumena to have dealt with the plots of tragedies, being an antecedent of a sort to the sets of tragedy hypotheseis.5 On the other hand, among the scholia to tragic texts, only those to Euripides quote Asclepiades. At the same time, Euripides is the only tragedian quoted by Apollodorus, who, in turn, as we have said above, is thought to have used the Tragodoumena as a source. Therefore, one wonders if the Tragodoumena could have been the source for certain tragic plots or variants found in the Bibliotheca and how the three works relate to each other. A priori, there is no evidence linking the tragic hypotheseis to the Tragodoumena directly: no preserved hypothesis mentions the name of Asclepiades or his work, nor do Asclepiades’ fragments quote specific tragedies or explicitly summarise them,6 but this lack of evidence may be due to the current state of both texts. The objective of this article is to assess the relationship between the Bib­ liotheca and this secondary tragic narrative tradition, as embodied by both the Tragodoumena and the tragic narrative hypotheseis. Accordingly, Apollodorus’ quotations of Asclepiades, of anonymous tragedians and of Euripides will be analysed first. Then I will look for correspondences of subject matter between the three texts – the Bibliotheca, the Tales from Euripides and the Tragodoumena – and compare the passages which deal with the same mythical episode.7 Finally, I will examine other thematic or detail-related coincidences between other corresponding passages of the Bibliotheca and the Tragodoumena where Apollodorus does not quote Asclepiades. This approach faces the tremendous burden of the current state of what we are calling the ‘tragedy-related’ texts. Both the Tragodoumena and the narrative hypotheseis have come down in a fragmentary state. Whereas in the case of the tragic hypotheseis, we do have an original text, though it is discontinuous – not every known tragedy, preserved or not, has its own hypothesis and hypotheseis are often conjectural (i. e., scholars agree that a passage of Apollodorus, Hyginus or

4 The fact that they deal with myths can be simply a result of the interest of the source that quotes the passage and the fact that when we edit Asclepiades’ fragments we automatically discard those passages which quote the name Asclepiades as an authority for non-mythographical issues. See schol. Pind. Οl. 6.26; Οl. 8.10e, i; Ol. 8.29a. 5 Rusten 1982, 362. See also Villagra 2008, 285–295. 6 Except, perhaps, for one fragment (FGrH 12F15), which refers to οἱ τραγικοί. See Villagra 2014, 27–41. 7 I am indebted to Huys’ article on the relationship between Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca and the Tales of Euripides, which is the basis for this work. See Huys 1997.

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other narrative text conveys the plot of a lost drama)8 – the text of the Tragodou­ mena is not only disjointed but also extremely derivative.9 The passages attributed to Asclepiades of Tragilus by indirect tradition have mostly been conveyed by scholia and it is therefore very hard to assess a quotation and its context from an authorial or even work-centred perspective. Also, there is often uncertainty about the attribution of the quotations. Thus, we are actually not dealing with a text, but with a textual artefact, built by editors upon the slippery basis of sources which are themselves also textual artefacts (scholia and lexicographical works). Therefore, no conclusive evidence regarding the sources can be drawn from the comparison proposed here. However, I hope that this article can add something to current knowledge of the frequency of coincidences and divergences between these texts, and also of the different narrative procedures they use, which in turn can throw some light on the pursposes of these works.10

2 Quotations of tragedy-related authors in Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca As already noted, Carl Robert believed that Apollodorus consulted Asclepiades of Tragilus directly.11 However only two citations of the name Asclepiades appear in the Bibliotheca and neither gives the title of the work. This poses an identification problem, since Asclepiades is a very common anthroponym and many authors bore the same names.12 The difficulty is accentuated by the fact

8 Rusten 1982, 361, n. 21. See also Huys 1997, 317–18 for bibliographical references. 9 Editions of the Tragodoumena include Werfer 1815; Müller 1849; Jacoby 1923; Villagra 2012; Asirvatham 2014. 10 By ‘narrative procedures’ I refer to the way a story is told: it can be nothing more than a detail in a catalogue or a divergence in an account, it can be alluded to, or it can be an independent narrative, or an episode within a larger story. On mythography as a literary genre see Alganza Roldán 2006, 9–37, especially 9–13. Higbie 2007 avoids the discussion with the term ‘Hellenistic mythographers’. See other descriptions of mythography in Pellizer 1993, 283–303; Fowler 2000, xvii–xxxviii; Fowler 2006, 35–46; Meliadò 2015, 1057–1089; Fowler 2013, xi–xxi. 11 Robert also believed that Apollodorus relied on intermediary authors for the tragedians. See Robert 1873, 55. 12 Besides Asclepiades of Samos, Pauly-Wissowa’s Realencyclopädie identifies other 50 different Asclepiades. At least 19 are authors, philosophers, grammarians, poets or historians; eight are doctors. We only have a single testimony for many of them. Epigraphic onomastic studies show the existence of 29 different men with that name in Thracia and 344 in Attica in different periods. See Fraser and Matthews 2005 on Ἀσκληπιάδης, and Osborne and Byrne 1994 on Ἀσκληπιάδης.



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that Apollodorus does not stick to a specific genre when quoting sources, but uses epic poets (Hesiod, Homer and other poets of the epic cycle), tragedians (Euripides or unidentified others), logographers and mythographers (Pherecydes, Acusilaus or Asclepiades).13 The two passages which quote Asclepiades – if this is indeed the mythographer – use him as a source for very specific details. In the first, Asclepiades’ name is quoted along with other authorities for a variant of the parenthood of Argos Panoptes. A few lines before, Apollodorus refers to the father of Io and quotes the tragedians. This passage is at the beginning of the second book, which is devoted to the descendants of Inachus, the argive genealogy. I will comment on these two quotations, for they may be related: I. Apollod. Bibl. 2.1.3 [5–6] (Asclep. Trag. FGrH 12F16): Ἄργου δὲ καὶ Ἰσμήνης τῆς Ἀσωποῦ παῖς Ἴασος, οὗ φασιν Ἰὼ γενέσθαι. Κάστωρ δὲ ὁ συγγράψας τὰ χρονικὰ καὶ πολλοὶ τῶν τραγικῶν Ἰνάχου τὴν Ἰὼ λέγουσιν· Ἡσίοδος δὲ καὶ Ἀκουσίλαος Πειρῆνος αὐτήν φασιν εἶναι. ταύτην ἱερωσύνην τῆς Ἥρας ἔχουσαν Ζεὺς ἔφθειρε. φωραθεὶς δὲ ὑφ’ Ἥρας τῆς μὲν κόρης ἁψάμενος εἰς βοῦν μετεμόρφωσε λευκήν, ἀπωμόσατο δὲ ταύτῃ μὴ συνελθεῖν· διό φησιν Ἡσίοδος οὐκ ἐπισπᾶσθαι τὴν ἀπὸ τῶν θεῶν ὀργὴν τοὺς γινομένους ὅρκους ὑπὲρ ἔρωτος. Ἥρα δὲ αἰτησαμένη παρὰ Διὸς τὴν βοῦν φύλακα αὐτῆς κατέστησεν Ἄργον τὸν πανόπτην, ὃν Φερεκύδης μὲν Ἰνάχου λέγει, Ἀσκληπιάδης δὲ Ἀρέστορος, Κέρκωψ δὲ Ἄργου καὶ Ἰσμήνης τῆς Ἀσωποῦ θυγατρός· Ἀκουσίλαος δὲ γηγενῆ αὐτὸν λέγει.

Huys has commented that “the vagueness of the reference to the tragic texts and its insertion in a chain of references make it again very doubtful that Apollodorus would have consulted here the tragic passages themselves: rather he used learned commentaries or previous mythographers” (1997, 315). Huys did not seem to notice that some lines below, when Apollodorus refers to Argus Panoptes’ father, he quotes Asclepiades for a variant. If Huys is right about Apollodorus finding the reference to the tragedians in a mythographical source, Asclepiades would be a good candidate for that intermediate text. Indeed, both quotations (the tragedians and Asclepiades) refer to variants of the father of figures who appear in the same plot – the story of Io’s transformation into a cow guarded by Argus. We can imagine that Asclepiades’ work would have dealt with a tragedy on this popular episode.14 Regarding the Bibliotheca’s text, most editors accept a correction which

13 Huys 1997, 309. 14 Huys pointed out that several fragmentary plays are candidates for the specific reference to Io’s father: Aeschylus’ Prometheus (589), Sophocles’ Electra and probably the fragmentary In­ achus, Euripides’ Supplices or Chaeremon’s Io. However, if Asclepiades were really behind the reference to the tragedians, Sophocles’ Inachus or Chaeremon’s Io would be a better candidate for the source on the fathers of Io and Argos in both variants.

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consists in switching the order of the authorities Pherecydes and Asclepiades.15 If we accepted this, Asclepiades would be more problematic as the intermediate source of ‘the tragedians’, for we would have to explain why or how a certain tragic tradition made Io and Argos Panoptes sister and brother. Respecting the lectio recepta allows the possibility that Asclepiades may be the intermediate source of the anonymous reference. On the other hand, the reference to Asclepiades is part of a long Zitaten­ nest which illustrates the difficulties that the genealogy of Argos posed. It does not seem likely that Apollodorus would have personally compared Pherecydes, Asclepiades, Cercops and Acusilaus himself for this detail. He would have found it ready to reproduce in his source. Thus, the picture becomes more complicated for this implies that even if Asclepiades were the source of Apollodorus when he quotes the tragedians, it has been mediated through another Mittelquelle and Apollodorus would be quoting the tragedians at third-hand. The second quotation of Asclepiades identifies him as the only authority for the name of Minos’ wife, Creta:16 II. Apollod. Bibl. 3.1.2 [7] Cuartero (=Asclep. Trag. FGrH 12F17): Μίνως δὲ Κρήτην κατοικῶν ἔγραψε νόμους, καὶ γήμας Πασιφάην τὴν Ἡλίου καὶ Περσηίδος, ὡς Ἀσκληπιάδης φησί, Κρήτην τὴν Ἀστερίου θυγατέρα· παῖδας μὲν ἐτέκνωσε Κατρέα Δευκαλίωνα Γλαῦκον Ἀνδρόγεων, θυγατέρας δὲ Ἀκάλλην Ξενοδίκην Ἀριάδνην Φαίδραν, ἐκ Παρείας δὲ νύμφης Εὐ­ ρυμέδοντα Νηφαλίωνα Χρύσην Φιλόλαον, ἐκ δὲ Δεξιθέας Εὐξάνθιον.

Few lines above this passage, an anonymous source is quoted (ἔνιοι λέγουσι) for a variant of the identity of the object of Sarpedon’s and Minos’ passion: both brothers fell in love with Atymnius, the son of Zeus and Cassiopeia.17 The episode on the quarrel over Atymnius and the note on the name of Minos’ wife may come from different sources. However, both narratives relate to the same figure, Minos. Therefore, we cannot exclude the possibility that the λέγουσι included the source which is mentioned for a variant on the name of Minos’ wife (i. e. Asclepiades) – even though this episode does not appear in his fragments. It is interesting that Atymnius (with the spelling Atymnus) appears as the brother of Phineus in a Pherecydean ­fragment which is transmitted by a scholion to Apollonius Rhodius. In the scholion Asclepiades is also quoted for his agreement with Hesiod and Antimachus in the paternity of Phineus: 15 Cuartero 2012, 23; Fowler 2000, 20. 16 The heroine’s eponym is only mentioned by Diod. Sic. 4.60, who considers her to be Pasiphae’s mother. 17 Apollod. Bibl. 3.1.2 [6]: ἔνιοι δὲ αὐτοὺς ἐρασθῆναι λέγουσιν Ἀτυμνίου τοῦ Διὸς καὶ Κασσιεπεί­ ας, καὶ διὰ τοῦτον στασιάσαι.



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Pherecydes fr. 86 Fowler (=Schol. Ap. Rhod. 2.178–82a): Ἀγήνορος γὰρ παῖς ἐστιν, ὡς Ἑλλάνικος· ὡς δὲ Ἡσίοδός φησιν, Φοίνικος τοῦ Ἀγήνορος καὶ Κασσιεπείας· ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ Ἀσκληπιάδης καὶ Ἀντίμαχος· καὶ Φερεκύδης φησίν· ἐκ δὲ Κασσιεπείας τῆς Ἀράβου Φοίνικι γίνεται Κίλιξ καὶ Φινεὺς καὶ Δόρυκλος καὶ Ἄτυμνος ἐπίκλησιν· γίνεται δὲ ἐκ Διὸς Ἄτυμνος.18

Perhaps the λέγουσι in Apollodorus’ text for the variant on Atymnius’ father refers also – or exclusively – to Pherecydes without naming him, as he is the one who considers Atymnius a son of Zeus, as we know from the scholion. It is worth noting that according to the scholion to Apollonius, Asclepiades mentioned Cassiopeia and her son Phineus. It would perhaps be going too far to suggest that Asclepiades may have also mentioned Atymn(i)us, another son of Cassiopeia. But the important fact here is that Atymn(i)us is mentioned by Pherecydes in a passage where Asclepiades is also quoted. This suggests that the scholiast to Apollonius Rhodius is using an intermediate source where these two authorities are already mentioned together. Therefore, one wonders if Apollodorus too could have relied on an intermediate source – the same or another – where Pherecydes appeared along with Asclepiades, and quoted this source anonymously first for the quarrel between Minos and his brother, and then quoted Asclepiades by name, because he was already mentioned in the intermediate source for the aberrant version of Creta as Minos’ wife. Of course, this is all hypothetical, but the point is that we cannot jump to the conclusion that Asclepiades is being quoted at first-hand for this variant, even though he seems to be the only source quoted here. Besides the reference to the tragedians already commented upon in connection to Asclepiades, Apollodorus refers twice more to unnamed tragedians. According to Huys, these quotations are not likely to depend on tragic texts either.19 One wonders, then, if they may derive from Asclepiades. I. Apollod. Bibl. 2.2.1 [25]: ὁ δ’ ἧκεν εἰς Λυκίαν πρὸς Ἰοβάτην, ὡς δέ τινές φασι, πρὸς Ἀμφιάνα κτα· καὶ γαμεῖ τὴν τούτου θυγατέρα, ὡς μὲν Ὅμηρος, Ἄντειαν, ὡς δὲ οἱ τραγικοί, Σθενέβοιαν.

The reference to authorities in this passage can be considered a Zitatennest, since Homer is quoted next to the plural τραγικοί. This suggests, again, that Apollodorus relied on a previous work in which the comparison of different tragic texts had already been done. There is a fragment of this story attributed

18 For the punctuation and attribution of the fragment to Pherecydes see Fowler 2013, 723; Pàmias 2008, 17. 19 Huys 1997, 315–317.

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to Asclepiades, conveyed by the Mythographus Homericus (MH henceforth).20 According to this text, Asclepiades knew Proetus’ wife by the name of Antea, which does not match the variant attributed to the tragedians by Apollodorus. However, on the one hand, the MH text quoting Asclepiades is a scholion to the Iliad. Therefore, it is not surprising that the commentator sticks to the name given by the epic tradition. On the other hand, Asclepiades is quoted at the end of the text with a ‘blanket reference’, a vague way to indicate the source.21 Therefore, Asclepiades could refer to another episode or detail in the narrative. The main point is that we cannot assume that the narrative in the scholion to the Iliad reflects the original narrative of Asclepiades. What is significant in this case is that there is a coincidence of subject matter which opens the ­possibility that Asclepiades’ Tragodoumena are actually behind the quotation of the ­tragedians. The second passage quotes the tragedians for a variant of Nauplius’ wife, Clymene: II. Apollod. Bibl. 2.1.5 [23]: Ἀμυμώνη δὲ ἐκ Ποσειδῶνος ἐγέννησε Ναύπλιον. οὗτος μακρόβιος γενόμενος, πλέων τὴν θάλασσαν, τοῖς ἐμπίπτουσιν ἐπὶ θανάτῳ ἐπυρσοφόρει. συνέβη οὖν καὶ αὐτὸν τελευτῆσαι ἐκείνῳ τῷ θανάτῳ ᾧπερ ἄλλων τελευτησάντων †ἐδυσφόρει, πρὶν τελευτῆσαι. ἔγημε δὲ ὡς μὲν οἱ τραγικοὶ λέγουσι, Κλυμένην τὴν Κατρέως, ὡς δὲ ὁ τοὺς νόστους γράψας, Φιλύραν, ὡς δὲ Κέρκωψ, Ἡσιόνην, καὶ ἐγέννησε Παλαμήδην Οἴακα Ναυσιμέδοντα.

Again, the references are embedded in a multiple quotation. It is therefore likely that Apollodorus is relying on an intermediate source in this case too. None of the fragments of Asclepiades refers to Nauplius, but a Clymene is mentioned in fragment 26. She is, according to ‘many’ (πλεῖστοι), the mother of Deucalion. However, Clymene is a nomen parlans that means ‘the famous’ and it looks like a chart-name for different female characters.22 Therefore, the connection is very weak here. However, as Huys points out,23 Nauplius was a popular character in tragedy: we know of about five tragedies named after the hero, and others dedicated to his son Palamedes. Besides the tragedians in general, Apollodorus quotes Euripides four times. Huys concludes again that these four quotations are not likely to rely on the 20 FGrH 12F13 (= Schol. Hom. Il. 6.155). See the commentary on plot coincidences below. On the MH see Panzer 1892; Pagès 2007; Montanari 1988; Van Rossum-Steenbeek 1998. See also Pagès in this volume. 21 On the vagueness of mythographical quotations see Cameron 2004, 94–104, 113–115. 22 See LIMC, s.u. Clymene. 23 Huys 1997, 316.



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tragedian directly.24 One of the four quotations deals with topics that are not treated in the fragments of Asclepiades, being part of a cluster of references.25 In the other three passages a connection can be made: I. Apollod. Bibl. 2.1.4 [11]: Βῆλος δὲ ὑπομείνας ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ βασιλεύει μὲν Αἰγύπτου, γαμεῖ δὲ Ἀγχινόην τὴν Νείλου θυγατέρα, καὶ αὐτῷ γίνονται παῖδες δίδυμοι, Αἴγυπτος καὶ Δαναός, ὡς δέ φησιν Εὐριπίδης, καὶ Κηφεὺς καὶ Φινεὺς προσέτι.

Fragment 31 of Asclepiades – transmitted by a scholion to the Odyssey and considered to belong to the MH (Schol. Od. 12.69) – tells the story of Phineus embedded in a narrative on the Argonauts. Also the scholion to Apollonius Rhodius discussed above quoted Asclepiades on Phineus’ father. We thus know that this figure appeared in the Tragodoumena, which opens the possibility that Apollodorus draws on the Tragodoumena here. However, Asclepiades and Euripides are quoted for variants that differ from each other – Phineus is son of Belos in Euripides and son of Phoenix in Asclepiades. In the third book of the Bibliotheca, Apollodorus lists who killed whom at the siege of Thebes and quotes Euripides for a variant of Parthenopaeus’ killer:26 II. Apollod. Bibl. 3.6.8 [74–75]: Ἴσμαρος μὲν γὰρ Ἱππομέδοντα ἀπέκτεινε, Λεάδης δὲ Ἐτέοκλον, Ἀμφίδικος δὲ Παρθενοπαῖον. ὡς δὲ Εὐριπίδης φησί, Παρθενοπαῖον ὁ Ποσειδῶνος παῖς Περικλύμενος ἀπέκτεινε.

This subject matter is not found in the fragments of Asclepiades, but a Periclymenus is mentioned in fragment 21, which transmits a list of the sons of Neleus and Chloris.27 In this fragment, Asclepiades is quoted by the scholia to Apollonius Rhodius for adding Alastor to the list. However, the Periclymenos in this text belongs to a different tradition, unrelated to that on the Theban war, as he is identified as one of the Argonauts.28 On the other hand, the Theban war appears in Asclepiades’ fragment 29, a scholion transmitted by the scholia to Homer and considered part of the MH,29 which tells the episode of how Eriphyle supported

24 Huys 1997, 311–315, 317. 25 3.9.2 [109]: Ἡσίοδος δὲ καί τινες ἕτεροι τὴν Ἀταλάντην οὐκ Ἰάσου ἀλλὰ Σχοινέως εἶπον, Εὐριπίδης δὲ Μαινάλου, καὶ τὸν γήμαντα αὐτὴν οὐ Μελανίωνα ἀλλὰ Ἱππομένην. 26 Apollodorus’ variant is unique. Euripides follows the account in the Thebaid cycle. See Cuartero forthcoming. 27 Schol. Ap. Rhod. 1.156–60b Wendel. 28 In a scholion to Pindar (not in Jacoby’s edition) the name Asclepiades is given as an authority for a variant related to this Periclymenos the Argonaut, which says that he was present when Euphemos received a gift from Poseidon. See schol. Pind. Pyth. 4.61. 29 Schol. Hom. Od. 11.326–327.

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Adrastus’ decision to fight Thebes against Amphiaraus’ advice. However, there is no reference to the development of the war itself. Therefore, once more, there are certain elements which allow us to suggest that the Tragodoumena may be the source of this passage, but the evidence is altogether weak.30 The last quotation of Euripides in the Bibliotheca is considered to relate the plot of the lost play Alcmaeon’s in Corinth: III. Apollod. Bibl. 3.7.7 [94–95]: Εὐριπίδης δέ φησιν Ἀλκμαίωνα κατὰ τὸν τῆς μανίας χρόνον ἐκ Μαντοῦς Τειρεσίου παῖδας δύο γεννῆσαι, Ἀμφίλοχον καὶ θυγατέρα Τισιφόνην, κομίσαντα δὲ εἰς Κόρινθον τὰ βρέφη δοῦναι τρέφειν Κορινθίων βασιλεῖ Κρέοντι, καὶ τὴν μὲν Τισιφόνην διενεγκοῦσαν εὐμορφίᾳ ὑπὸ τῆς Κρέοντος γυναικὸς ἀπεμποληθῆναι, δεδοικυίας μὴ Κρέων αὐτὴν γαμετὴν ποιήσηται.

Alcmaeon’s madness is briefly refered in Asclepiades’ fragment 29, but this subsequent plot is not mentioned. Asclepiades’ passage is a condensed ἱστορία from the scholia to the Odyssey (i. e. the MH) on the quarrel between Amphiaraus and Adrastus and Eryphile, and its consequences for Alcmaeon, who ended up killing his own mother.31 In this text Apollodorus only aludes to Alcmaeon’s madness. He refers to the matricide and Alcmaeon’s purification by the King of Psophis several chapters before the quotation above.32 No authority is quoted for Alcmaeon’s madness in the Apollodorean text, nor does its version agree with the one attributed to Asclepiades. According to the latter, the gods were the ones to purify him. Therefore, it does not seem likely that there is a connection to Asclepiades in this 30 Huys (1997, 314–315) points out the striking fact that of the four quotations of Euripides in the Bibliotheca, two – this one and the quotation in 3.9.2 [109] – are connected to the same passage of Euripides’ Phoenissae and also connected to the mythographical scholia to Homer. Huys believes that these two quotations come from Hellenistic scholarship. 31 Schol. Hom. Od. 11.326–327 Ernst: ‘στυγερήν τ’ Ἐριφύλην/ ἣ χρυσὸν φίλου ἀνδρὸς ἐδέξατο τιμήεντα’· Ἀμφιάραος ὁ Ἰοκλέος γήμας Ἐριφύλην τὴν Ταλαοῦ καὶ διενεχθεὶς ὑπέρ τινων πρὸς Ἄδραστον, καὶ πάλιν διαλυθεὶς ὁρκούμενος ὡμολόγησεν ὑπὲρ ὧν ἂν διαφέρωνται πρὸς ἀλλήλους αὐτός τε καὶ Ἄδραστος ἐπιτρέψειν Ἐριφύλην κρίνειν καὶ πείθεσθαι αὐτῇ. μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα γινομένης τῆς ἐπὶ Θήβας στρατείας ὁ μὲν Ἀμφιάραος ἀπέτρεπε τοὺς Ἀργείους καὶ τὸν ἐσόμενον ὄλεθρον προεμαντεύετο. λαβοῦσα δὲ ἡ Ἐριφύλη τὸν ὅρμον παρὰ τοῦ Πολυνείκους τὸν τῆς Ἁρμονίας, προέθετο τοῖς περὶ τὸν Ἄδραστον βιαζομένοις. τὸν Ἀμφιάραον δὲ ἰδόντα τὴν τῶν δώρων ὑποδοχὴν καὶ πολλὰ τὴν Ἐριφύλην αἰτιασάμενον. αὐτὸν μὲν ἐξορμῆσαι πρὸς τὴν στρατείαν, Ἀλκμαίωνα δὲ προστάξαι μὴ πρότερον μετὰ τῶν ἐπιγόνων ἐπὶ Θήβας πορεύεσθαι πρὶν ἀποκτεῖναι τὴν μητέρα, ταῦτα δὲ πάντα δρᾶσαι λέγεται τὸν Ἀλκμαίωνα καὶ διὰ τὴν μητροκτονίαν μανῆναι. τοὺς δὲ θεοὺς ἀπολῦσαι τῆς νόσου αὐτὸν διὰ τὸ ὁσίως ἐπαμύνοντα τῷ πατρὶ τὴν μητέρα κατα­ κτεῖναι. ἡ ἱστορία παρὰ Ἀσκληπιάδῃ. 32 Apollod. Bibl. 3.7.5 [87]: Ἀλκμαίωνα δὲ μετῆλθεν ἐρινὺς τοῦ μητρῴου φόνου, καὶ μεμηνὼς πρῶτον μὲν εἰς Ἀρκαδίαν πρὸς Ὀικλέα παραγίνεται, ἐκεῖθεν δὲ εἰς Ψωφῖδα πρὸς Φηγέα. καθαρθεὶς δὲ ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ Ἀρσινόην γαμεῖ τὴν τούτου θυγατέρα, καὶ τόν τε ὅρμον καὶ τὸν πέπλον ἔδωκε ταύτῃ.



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case. If the Apollodorean passage on Alcmaeon’s crime and punishment and this quotation of Euripides came from Asclepiades, the Tragodoumena’s original text was likely an account which gave both versions of Alcmaeon’s punishment, as well as his further destiny at Corinth. Due to the current state of the text, we do not know if Asclepiades compared different versions or quoted other authors, as has been suggested.33 The only connection we can establish is again the fact that Apollodorus, Euripides and Asclepiades refer to the same figure, Alcmaeon, and that the three of them refer to his madness, though in different narrative constructions. I think that before closing this section on quotations, it is worth noting for what purpose and how Apollodorus quotes these authorities.34 Both times he quotes Asclepiades, he does so for a specific detail. In the first passage, on Argos Panoptes, Asclepiades is cited among other authorities, each of them for a different variant. Apollodorus himself does not express a preference for any of them. In the second passage, the detail of the name of Mino’s wife is a variant to the version which Apollodorus follows and no other authorities are quoted for the same detail. Apollodorus also quotes unidentified tragedians for specific details and their version is always compared to the epic one. In his quotation of the tragedians on the point of Io’s paternity, he quotes them together to contrast their versions with his own variant. In the passage on the name of Proetus’ wife, Apollodorus does not align with any version explicitly – although some chapters later, when he tells the story of Bellerophon, he calls Proetus’ wife Stheneboea, following the tragic tradition. Euripides is quoted once for a genealogical variant (the children of Belos), once  for a short and condensed episode (Periclimenus killed Parthenopeus) and  once  for a longer account of Alcmeon, which is thought to summarise the ­tragedy’s  plot. In the first two cases, he is quoted to add a variant to Apollodorus’ narrative – the detail on Aegyptus’ children and the brief episode of

33 See Villagra 2014, 27–41. 34 Regarding Apollodorus’ purpose, by ‘specific detail’ I mean that the variant gives the identity or name of a specific character. If the variant implies some kind of action of a mythical figure, I consider it a brief episode. When I say ‘episode’, I refer to an event which is integrated into a fuller account. By ‘account’ I mean a narrative with a sequence of episodes. Regarding how Apollodorus uses an authority, I focus on whether the authority is quoted alone (in order to establish contrast with Apollodorus’ preferred version) or if it is presented as an addition to his narrative. I also assess whether an authority is quoted along with other authorities, or the authority assumes the main narrative voice.

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Parthenopaeus’ death. However, in the last example Apollodorus lends Euripides the authorial voice. This points to two ideas: Apollodorus does not always use authorities in the same way. Sometimes he quotes Asclepiades and the tragedians for details which establish contrasts or add variants, or he simply identifies discrepancies. Euripides is used to add details or short episodes to Apollodorus’ narrative or to establish contrasts with other versions – in the same way as Asclepiades and the tragedians – but he is the only source quoted for a full account. Of course, the number of these quotations is so small that this may not be significant enough to establish a pattern in the relationship between the quoted authority and its purpose. Nevertheless, we should keep in mind that these are all the tragedy-­ related quotations in the Bibliotheca.

3 Apollodorus, the Tales from Euripides and the Tragodoumena of Asclepiades of Tragilus In his article on the Tales from Euripides and the Bibliotheca, Huys listed the passages of the Bibliotheca which have parallels in Euripidean tragic hypotheseis.35 When the two are compared to Asclepiades’ fragments, it turns out that among the 22 plot coincidences between Apollodorus and the Tales, five topics are also treated by the Tragodoumena. Taking into account the fact that the Tragodou­ mena was a six-book work from which we only have 32 fragments – according to Jacoby’s edition – this does not seem to be an insignificant coincidence. However, one must bear in mind that thematic concurrence does not in itself prove a connection between the texts. The coincidences are the following:

I Alcestis (Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.15 [105–106], hyp. Eur. Alc., FGrH 12F9 [Schol. Eur. Alc. 1 Schwartz]) The narratives on the death of Alcestis for her husband Admetus have a similar structure in the Bibliotheca and the tragic hypothesis: both refer first to Apollo’s demand to the Moerae and the deal they offer; both also explain that no one was willing to die for Admetus, not even his parents, how Alcestis volunteered to do so and how 35 Huys established two groups of parallels: the first is between the Bibliotheca and preserved hypotheseis and the second between the Bibliotheca and lost hypotheseis. I only consider the parallels with preserved hypotheseis here.



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she was saved. However, major divergences can be found in the choice of variants: first of all, Apollodorus’ text includes the punishment sent by Artemis, presenting it as a consequence of the fact that Admetus and Alcestis forgot her when sacrificing to the gods at their wedding. This episode is only known through Apollodorus; it is mentioned neither in Euripides’ tragedy nor in the hypothesis. The combination of the two accounts is rather abrupt in the Bibliotheca, as Apollodorus seems to suggest that when Apollo talked to Artemis in order to calm her wrath, he somehow ended up obtaining an extension of the king’s life from the Moerae, if somebody died in his place. The hypothesis does not explain why Apollo requested such a favour from the Moerae. A second important difference is that, according to the hypothesis, Alcestis was saved by Heracles, whereas Apollodorus is cautious and gives two versions: either Core sent Alcestis back to the world of the living or Heracles brought her back. Therefore, as Huys pointed out, Apollodorus cannot have relied only on the tale from Euripides, at least on the text as it has come down to us. Fragment 9 of Asclepiades is transmitted by a scholion to Euripides’ tragedy. It does not refer to this same episode, but to the previous scene, the one which brings Apollo to Admetus’ palace: FGrH 12F9 (=Schol. Eur. Alc. 1 Schwartz): ‘ὦ δώματ’ Ἀδμήτει’· ἡ διὰ στόματος καὶ δημώδης ἱστορία περὶ τῆς ᾽Απόλλωνος θητείας παρ᾽ ᾽Αδμήτῳ αὕτη ἐστίν, ᾗ κέχρηται νῦν Εὐριπίδης. οὕτως δέ φησι καὶ Ἡσίοδος καὶ Ἀσκληπιάδης ἐν Tραγῳδουμένοις.

The scholion comments on the prologue of the tragedy, where Apollo explains the antecedents which led to the situation represented in the first scene (i. e. Alcestis is about to die): Apollo had killed the Cyclopes to get revenge on Zeus, who had killed his son Asclepius. Zeus punished him with a year of servitude in Admetus’ palace. The scholiast specifies that Euripides follows the common version περὶ τῆς ᾽Απόλλωνος θητείας παρ᾽ ᾽Αδμήτῳ, and underlines his agreement with Hesiod and Asclepiades. We thus infer that Asclepiades gave an account of Apollo’s service at Admetus’ palace. He may have considered it to be the reason why Apollo asked for Admetus’ life to be extended and he may have related the whole story of Alcestis, but this is only conjecture. The fact that the episode of Apollo’s service is not mentioned by the hypothesis or by Apollodorus suggests that there is no relation with Asclepiades’ fragment. It is also possible that those accounts are different traditions artificially combined by Euripides. Nevertheless, there is a connection that might be taken into account. The verb ᾐτήσατο is a parallel between the hypothesis of Euripides’ Alcestis and the corresponding passage of the Bibliotheca: Hyp. Alc.: Ἀπόλλων ᾐτήσατο παρὰ τῶν Μοιρῶν ὅπως ὁ Ἄδμητος τελευτᾶν μέλλων παράσχῃ τὸν ὑπὲρ ἑαυτοῦ ἑκόντα τεθνηξόμενον

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Apollod.: Ἀπόλλων δὲ εἰπὼν ἐξιλάσκεσθαι τὴν θεόν, ᾐτήσατο παρὰ μοιρῶν ἵνα, ὅταν Ἄδμητος μέλλῃ τελευτᾶν, ἀπολυθῇ τοῦ θανάτου, ἂν ἑκουσίως τις ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ θνήσκειν ἕληται.

Huys considered this the most striking verbal parallel.36 The verb ᾐτήσατο is also used by a scholion to Euripides’ Alcestis which comments on how the Moerae were convinced by Apollo.37 The scholion is transmitted by two Laurentiani manuscripts and provides a brief account which draws on an anonymous source and combines two motifs, the begging – which we find only in Apollodorus and the hypothesis – and the use of wine, already mentioned by Aeschylus:38 Schol. (Laur. 31.15, 32.2) Eur. Alc. 12: οἴνῳ γὰρ ταύτας, φασὶ, τῶν λογισμῶν ἀπαγαγὼν ἐξῃτήσατο Ἄδμητον, οὕτω μέντοι ὥστε ἀντιδοῦναι ἑαυτοῦ ἕτερον τῷ Ἅιδῃ.

Another scholion, the one to verse 12 of Manuscript A of Euripides’ A ­ lcestis, refers only to the wine trick version, pointing out that this goes back to ­Aeschylus’ Eumenides and quoting several verses.39 One wonders, t­ herefore, if the scholiasts of this manuscript and of the Laurentiani relied on the tragedy itself or on an intermediate source. Since the scholion in the L ­ aurentiani refers to an anonymous source and gives a version which conflates the two details, it seems preferable, for this scholiast at least, to imagine an intermediary source such as the Tragodoumena. If this were so, then the verbal parallel would be a link between the three texts. However, this possibility remains speculative.

II Stheneboea (Apollod. Bibl. 2.3.1 [30–33], hyp. Eur. Stheneb., FGrH 12F13 [Schol. Hom. Il. 6.155 van Thiel]) The account of Stheneboea’s passion for Bellerophon and its consequences is to be found in all three texts and in this case we do have an attribution to Asclepiades. It has been preserved in a passage of the scholia to the Iliad and it is considered to

36 Huys 1997, 325. 37 Huys 1997, 322. 38 Aesch. Eum. 723–728. 39 I am following Schwartz’s sigla: A = Vaticanus 909, c. thirteenth century. Schol. (A) Eur. Alc. 12: : Αἰσχύλος Εὐμενίσι· / τοιαῦτ’ ἔδρασας καὶ Φέρητος ἐν δόμοις, / ἔπεισας ἀφθίτους θεῖναι βροτούς. / σύ τοι παλαιὰς διανομὰς καταφθίσας / οἴνῳ παρηπάτησας ἀρχαίας θεάς.



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belong to the MH.40 The tragic hypothesis has been transmitted only by a papyrus and is considered to belong to the Tales of Euripides.41 The three versions agree in the first part of the account, the passion of Proetus’ wife for Bellerophon and its consequences. The wording differs but the sequence of episodes is the same: Bellerophon’s crime and arrival at Proetus’ palace; Proetus’ wife’s passion for him and her inappropriate proposal; Bellerophon’s rejection; the wife’s lie; the second exile of Bellerophon at Iobates’ court; Iobates’ trick to avoid killing Bellerophon personally. However, the proximity to the account conveyed by the Iliad suggests that this structure may have been well established since the Homeric text and is thus traditional.42 This coincidence does not necessarily imply a common intermediate source, but the common source or hypotext can easily be Homer. After the account of Bellerophon’s journey to Iobates, the three texts diverge: Apollodorus explains all the hero’s deeds in detail, and makes him Iobates’ successor through marriage to his daughter. He does not refer to the hero’s destiny after his marriage and inheritance of the kingdom. The hypothesis refers briefly to Bellerophon’s fight against the Chimaera and then gives a completely different version of his final destiny: he goes back to Proetus’ court and takes revenge on him by killing his wife, Stheneboea. This is the plot of Euripides’ lost play.43 The MH’s Asclepiades offers a vague reference to Bellerophon’s deeds – he does not even mention the Chimaera – and goes on to explain, as Apollodorus and Homer do, that Bellerophon married Proetus’ daughter, received a part of his kingdom, and was finally punished by the gods, who made him fall from Pegasus and left him to wander crippled around the Plain of Alia. Therefore, the coincidences between Apollodorus and the MH’s Asclepiades can be explained by their dependence on Homer. However, it is interesting that the Asclepiadean fragment gives details on Bellerophon’s punishment which are not present in the Iliad, which only alludes to it.44 If Apollodorus consulted 40 The text has been transmitted in two different recensions in the scholia to Homer and a third in the scholia to Lycophron’s Alexandra. Both recensions in the scholia to Homer attribute the account to Asclepiades of Tragilus by a subscription, but they present divergences of detail. It is not possible to know whether the variations were introduced by copyists in the transmission process or if all divergent details belonged to the original text and choices were made by the various scholars who summarised it. See Villagra 2010, 177–185. 41 POxy. 27.2455 (see Turner 1962, 43–64; frs. 5.7–21, 24–95 and 6.1–9) + P. Strasbourg gr. 2676 (see Schwartz 1969). Cf. van Rossum-Steenbeek 1998, 209–211; Diggle 1998, 128–129. 42 Hom. Il. 6.160–202. 43 TGF 5.2, 645–656. 44 Il. 6.200–202: ἀλλ’ ὅτε δὴ καὶ κεῖνος ἀπήχθετο πᾶσι θεοῖσιν, / ἤτοι ὃ κὰπ πεδίον τὸ Ἀλήϊον οἶος ἀλᾶτο / ὃν θυμὸν κατέδων, πάτον ἀνθρώπων ἀλεείνων.

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Asclepiades, the Tragodoumena account must have been much more complete than the one we have. This is not impossible, since the text we have is a scholion which is thought to transmit MH’s summary or refection of it. However, even when Apollodorus and the MH’s Asclepiades relate the same episode or refer to the same mythological figure, the details diverge. For instance, as we saw above, Apollodorus names Proetus’ wife Stheneboea, whereas the MH’s Asclepiades calls her Antea, following the epic tradition; according to the Bibliotheca, Iobates’ daughter is called Philonoe, whereas for Asclepiades her name is Cassandra; finally, in Apollodorus’ text, Bellerophon inherits the kingdom after Iobates’ death but in Asclepiades he receives a part of it from the living Iobates. Also, both refer to Pegasus’ origins, but in different contexts. It is hard to imagine that both Apollodorus and the MH draw directly on Asclepiades, who included all these variants, and each author chose different versions. If so, why then would Apollodorus not have pointed out the existence of divergent versions even once, though he identifies different versions in the same account when he refers to the Chimaera?45 It seems unlikely that both the MH and Apollodorus derive from the Tragodoumena. If they drew on it at certain points, they certainly used other divergent sources as well. The hypothesis cannot depend on the Tragodoumena fragment either, for the two versions are very different. On the other hand, the hypothesis and Apollodorus’ text might be considered closer to each other due to the fact that both give the name Stheneboea to Proetus’ wife, while Asclepiades calls her Antea (see above). A minor verbal parallel can be found between the hypothesis and Apollodorus: the expression πιστεύσας δὲ ὁ Προῖτος. But this coincidence is embedded in completely different contexts, and is therefore not enough to prove dependence. The Tales from Euripides probably relates the plot of his Bellerophon but, since we only know the tragedy from fragments, we cannot be sure how much in the hypothesis comes from the play and how much comes from a different source.

III Heracles (Apollod. Bibl. 2.4.12 [72]; Hyp. Eur. HF; FGrH 12F27 [Schol. Od. 11.269 Ernst]) The account of Heracles’ madness is also transmitted by all three texts. Again, Asclepiades’ text belongs to the MH – this time a scholion to the Odyssey – whereas the hypothesis, which is incomplete, has been transmitted only by the manuscript tradition of the tragedy, which has no scholia for this play.

45 Apollod. Bibl. 2.3.1 [31]: λέγεται δὲ τραφῆναι μὲν ὑπὸ Ἀμισωδάρου, καθάπερ εἴρηκε καὶ Ὅμηρος, γεννηθῆναι δὲ ἐκ Τυφῶνος καὶ Ἐχίδνης, καθὼς Ἡσίοδος ἱστορεῖ.



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Apollodorus’ version of Heracles’ madness and killing of his own children – an episode explained very summarily – is placed before the labours. The surviving part of the hypothesis refers the antecedents to the tragedy’s plot, which are also explained in the prologue of the tragedy itself. Here, the madness episode takes place after the last labour, the capture of Cerberus,46 as it does in Asclepiades’ fragment. Apollodorus’ account thus differs profoundly from the other two. There is only a partial coincidence between his text and Asclepiades: both mention Iphicles, but the details differ: in the Bibliotheca, Heracles kills his brother’s two sons; in the Tragodoumena, he almost kills Iphicles himself. Apollodorus, thus, cannot have depended on the MH’s Asclepiades. Had he relied on Asclepiades’ Tragodoumena, again, one would expect his account to include all variants and it would therefore be very different from what we have in the scholia to the Odyssey. As already noted, the hypothesis does not refer to the episode of Heracles’ madness, but only to its antecedents. Its version matches that of Asclepiades: both place it after the final labour; both refer to Heracles’ marriage to Megara and name Lycus as the ruler of Thebes. All these details already appear in Euripides’ tragedy. Therefore, both the hypothesis and Asclepiades (or the MH’s Asclepiades) may have depended on the tragic text. However, some details in the MH ­Asclepiades’ fragment diverge from Euripides: first, it gives the names of Heracles’ children, which are never mentioned in the tragedy. Secondly, Heracles kills Lycus, his children and his own children, and then almost kills his brother, whereas Euripides has Heracles kill Lycus, his own children and wife, and then he kills almost his father.47 The hypothesis agrees with Euripides’ prologue in general. The only divergence between them is that the hypothesis has the Thebans revolt against Creon and install Lycus as ruler, whereas Euripides refers to Lycus as having killed Cadmus.48 Therefore, it is possible that the hypothesis used some other source, perhaps Asclepiades, though this does not seem probable as the account attributed to him does not mention how Lycus obtained power. It is not possible that Euripides’ tragedy is the only hypotext for the MH’s Asclepiades or the hypothesis. The MH author either conflated different versions himself or Asclepiades did. However, again, we cannot prove that the hypothesis and the MH used Asclepiades, nor can we rule out that Apollodorus did, although this seems much less likely. 46 Euripides is believed to have altered the traditional episode sequence. See Bond 1981, xxviii–xxx. See also Frade (forthcoming). 47 Apollodorus also presents a different version: according to his account, Heracles kills his own children and his brother’s sons by throwing them in the fire. 48 The MH’s Asclepiades fragment does not say how Lycus took power.

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IV The Riddle of the Sphinx (Apollod. Bibl. 3.5.8 [52–54]; hyp. Eur. Phoen. e + schol. Eur. Phoen. 50 (MVC) Schwartz; FGrH 12F7 [Ath. 10.456B + Schol. Eur. Phoen. 45 Schwartz]) The subject matter of Euripides’ Phoenissae is treated by several passages of the third book of the Bibliotheca. Apollodorus’ version of the myth is a very long narrative which expands upon several characters and details drawn from various accounts,49 whereas the hypothesis offers a compact summary of the antecedents which led to the Theban war and its consequences for the Theban royal family. The texts’ narrative structure and wording are so different that no parallelism can be established between them. The episode of the Sphinx is an antecedent of the story told in the Phoenissae and is referred to in some choral parts of the play where the background of the Theban royal family is remembered.50 On the other hand, a large part of the manuscript tradition of the tragedy conveys a poetic version of the riddle the Sphinx posed to Oedipus, which is placed together with the two hypotheseis preceding the tragic text. The same riddle is transmitted in the scholion to verse 50 of the tragedy (manuscripts MVC [Diggle]). Manuscripts BFG (Diggle) quote Asclepiades when giving the riddle before the tragic text. In MVC he is quoted again in the scholion to verse 50. Athenaeus also transmits the same riddle and quotes Asclepiades.51 An Oxyrhynchus papyrus which contains part of the prologue to Euripides’ Oedipus gives a different version of the enigma, also metric, but does not quote Asclepiades.52 The divergence between these two metric versions53 points to the possibility that the version in the scholia to Euripides and Athenaeus does indeed come from Asclepiades.54 Apollodorus also gives a short prose version of the riddle. Is it possible that he followed Asclepiades as well? His reduced version does not contradict the metric text. On the other hand, the Asclepiadean fragment 7 has two parts: the riddle and a quotation conveyed by the scholion to verse 45 of Phoenissae, which refers to the killing of the Sphinx at Thebes. If we compare this scholion to the Bibliotheca, new coincidences can be found between Apollodorus and the fragment: both tell that the Thebans gathered together to discuss the riddle, that there was an oracle

49 Apollod. Bibl. 3.5.7–3.6.8 [48–77]. 50 Eur. Phoen. 46–50; 802–810; 1019–1054. 51 The metric version has also been transmitted by schsol. Eur. Phoen. 50; Anth. Graec. 14.64; arg. 3 Soph. OT; schol. Lycoph. 7 Leone; Tzetz. Lycoph. 7. 52 POxy. 27.2459 fr. 2. See Turner 1962; TGF 5.1 F540a, p. 572–73. See also Jouan-Van Looy 2000, 449. 53 Also preserved in Athenaeus, in the scholia to Sophocles and Lycophron. 54 Asclepiades might have known the riddle through oral tradition. See Mastronarde 1994, 20, n. 3; Katz 2005, 10, n. 14.



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which declared that the Sphinx would stop killing when its riddle was solved, and that the Sphinx killed many Thebans including Haemon, Creon’s son.55 The wording is different, but the common details and the riddle suggest that Apollodorus relies on Asclepiades here, though there is no way no prove a direct dependence. It has been argued that Apollodorus depends directly on Euripides for this passage,56 but the tragedy does not reproduce the riddle. To sum up, it is likely that both Apollodorus and the scholia on the tragedy drew on the Tragodoumena for the riddle, whereas the papyrus seems to follow a different tradition. Other details in Apollodorus’ account may also depend on Asclepiades.

V Hippolytus and Phaedra (Apollod. Epit. 1.17–19; hyp. 1 Eur. Hipp.; FGrH 12F29 [schol. Hom. Od. 11.321b Ernst]) Apollodorus’ account of Phaedra’s passion is only preserved in the Epitome and we cannot therefore know which was its original form. However, the two recensions are very similar in this part. The tragic hypothesis has come down in the manuscripts M, B, O, A, V, C, D, E, P, Σd (Diggle) of Euripides’ Hippolytus, and Asclepiades’ account is again conveyed by the MH. The structure of the narrative of Phaedra’s passion for Hippolytus is closer in Apollodorus and Asclepiades. Both follow the Potiphar motif and the general structure of the account is the same: Theseus has a son, Hippolytus, by an Amazon and then marries Phaedra. She falls in love with Hippolytus and asks him to sleep with her. He rejects her and she falsely accuses him of having raped her. Theseus believes his wife and asks Poseidon to destroy his son. Hippolytus dies when practising with the chariot. When Phaedra finds out, she commits suicide. However, Apollodorus’ account expands upon certain details which the MH’s Asclepiades fragment does not mention, and vice versa. Before mentioning that Phaedra falls in love with Hippolytus, the Epitome tells that Phaedra gave Theseus two sons, Acamas and Demophon. One of the recensions of the Epitome also states that when Hippolytus’ mother learned of Theseus’ wedding to Phaedra, all the Amazons showed up armed at the wedding and there was a fight, in which Hippolytus’ mother was killed, some sources say by Theseus. The MH’s fragment of Asclepiades gives the following details and expansions not found in Apollodorus: after mentioning the marriage with Phaedra, Asclepiades explains why

55 He is called Menoeceus in the hypothesis. 56 Schwartz 1881, 450ff.; Robert 1915, 544–546; Bethe 1887, 85–86, in Huys 1997, 310, n. 7.

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Hippolytus was in Troezen and locates the episode of Phaedra’s falling in love there; Asclepiades then provides information on a temple founded by Phaedra in Athens called the Hippolyteion.57 When it refers to Theseus’ demand to Poseidon to destroy Hippolytus, the MH’s Asclepiades refers to a tradition in which Theseus had been granted three wishes by the god. The wording is similar at two points: at the beginning of the account, and on Theseus’ reaction to Phaedra’s false accusation: Asclepiades: Θησεὺς ὁ Αἰγέως ἔχων παῖδα Ἱππόλυτον ἐξ Ἀμαζόνος Ἀντιόπης ἔγημε Φαίδρην τὴν Μίνωος θυγατέρα τοῦ τῶν Κρητῶν βασιλέως. Apollodorus’ Epitome: Ἔχων δὲ ἐκ τῆς Ἀμαζόνος παῖδα Ἱππόλυτον λαμβάνει μετὰ ταῦτα παρὰ Δευκαλίωνος Φαίδραν τὴν Μίνωος θυγατέρα. Asclepiades: πιστεύσας τῇ Φαίδρᾳ μίαν τούτων ᾐτήσατο κατὰ τοῦ παιδὸς ὄλεθρον. Apollodorus’ Epitome: Θησεὺς δὲ πιστεύσας ηὔξατο Ποσειδῶνι Ἱππόλυτον διαφθαρῆναι.

However, these two parallelisms are embedded in narratives that are largely different. Furthermore, the first coincidence is the genealogy, but genealogical information is related in a very repetitive way most of the time. The second regards only the verb πιστεύσας. Therefore, they are not significant enough to provide evidence of common dependence. The hypothesis differs from the other texts both in episode structure and wording. It follows the Euripidean version of the myth in all the details that are put forward in the prologue by Aphrodite. Only the identity of Hippolytus’ ­mother – that she is Hippolyte – is not found in the tragic prologue. Therefore, in this case, Apollodorus’ and Asclepiades’ accounts are closer because they follow the same general version, but not close enough to establish a direct relation, whereas the hypothesis follows the Euripidean version.58 To sum up: thus far, only in one case is there evidence that suggests that Asclepiades’ Tragodoumena was the common source of Apollodorus and the scholia to Euripides: the riddle of the Sphinx. Elsewhere, when Apollodorus and Asclepiades agree, the hypothesis follows a different tradition and vice versa; when Asclepiades and the Tales from Euripides coincide, Apollodorus diverges; and when it is possible that Apollodorus and the hypothesis are linked, Asclepiades cannot be. However, this comparison brings up two points worth noting: first, that the Tragodoumena seems to follow a tradition which is independent to that in the Tales from Euripides (and in Euripides) and, second, that of five thematic 57 On the cult dedicated to Hippolytos see Barrett 1964, 3–6. 58 The Euripidean version is thought to be an innovation. See Barrett 1964, 1–15.



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coincidences between Apollodorus and Asclepiades, four cases are conveyed by the MH. It has been pointed out that Apollodorus cannot have relied directly on the MH,59 which begs the question of the relationship of those two works to the Tragodoumena. It is not possible to assess whether they both rely on the original work or not. Nevertheless, it is worth studying other coincidences between Apollodorus and Asclepiades, independently from the tragic hypotheseis, and to check whether the MH is significant in their relationship. One final observation for this section: coincidences of detail are dispersed and not very frequent. On the other hand, the similarities that can be established concern subject matter and often narrative structure, too. Neither of these two elements proves a direct relation, but they do show a similar attitude to a specific tradition. The fact that most of the coincidences with Asclepiades’ are conveyed by the MH has a bearing on Asclepiades’ perception, as the structure of the account in the MH is most probably not the same as in the original Tragodou­ mena, as can be inferred from the fact that every time the MH quotes a mythographer, it presents his account in a similar structure. In my opinion, it is significant that there are structural similarities between Asclepiades’ MH and Apollodorus, or between the MH and the Tales from Euripides, even though there are no parallels of narrative structure between the three texts – besides that regarding Stheneboea. Indeed, these similarities in mythographical procedure support the idea that the three mythographical works belong to a similar cultural ambience.

4 Parallels between Apollodorus and the fragments attributed to Asclepiades In order to assess the role of the MH in the relationship between the Bibliotheca and the Tragodoumena, I now consider the parallels between Apollodorus and Asclepiades independently of the tragic tradition. I looked for parallels in a broad sense: common subjects, mentions of the same character and coincidences of detail. The reason to for including all this material is that although matches are very often partial, they are interpretable and therefore need individual ­assessment. Of the 23 coincidences which I identified, one is a verbal parallel between the Bibliotheca and the narrative attributed to Asclepiades and another shows some coincidence of wording between the context of Asclepiades’ quotation and the

59 See Pagès 200, 111.

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Bibliotheca. Indeed, the account of Phineus’ advice on how to navigate between the Symplegades is explained both by Apollodorus and Asclepiades: Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.22 [125]: εἶπεν οὖν αὐτοῖς ἀφεῖναι πελειάδα διὰ τῶν πετρῶν, καὶ ταύτην ἐὰν μὲν ἴδωσι σωθεῖσαν, διαπλεῖν καταφρονοῦντας, ἐὰν δὲ ἀπολλυμένην, μὴ πλεῖν βιάζεσθαι. ταῦτα ἀκούσαντες ἀνήγοντο, καὶ ὡς πλησίον ἦσαν τῶν πετρῶν, ἀφιᾶσιν ἐκ τῆς πρῴρας πελειάδα· τῆς δὲ ἱπταμένης τὰ ἄκρα τῆς οὐρᾶς ἡ σύμπτωσις τῶν πετρῶν ἀπέθρισεν. ἀναχωρ­ ούσας οὖν ἐπιτηρήσαντες τὰς πέτρας μετ’ εἰρεσίας εὐτόνου, συλλαβομένης Ἥρας, διῆλθον, τὰ ἄκρα τῶν ἀφλάστων τῆς νεὼς περικοπείσης. FGrH 12F31 (Schol. Hom. Od. 12.69): ὁ δὲ λέγει αὐτοῖς, πόσον δύναται ἔχειν τάχος ἡ Ἀργώ; φάντων δὲ πελειάδος, ἐκέλευσεν ἀφεῖναι περιστερὰν κατὰ τὴν συμβολὴν τῶν πετρῶν, κἂν μὲν μεσολαβηθῇ, μὴ πλεῖν, ἐὰν δὲ σωθῇ, τότε περαίνειν τὸν πλοῦν. οἱ δὲ ταῦτα ἀκούσαντες ποιοῦσι. κατασχεθείσης δὲ τῆς περιστερᾶς διὰ τῆς οὐρᾶς, προσβάλλουσι τῇ Ἀργοῖ δυοῖν πληγάδες πέτραι συνελθοῦσαι τῆς νεὼς συμμύουσιν, αὐτοὶ δὲ σώζονται.

This fragment is conveyed by the MH once again. The accounts are clearly parallel, but the coincidences of wording are limited to two sentences, which also show some variation (εἶπεν-ἐκέλευσεν; ἀνήγοντο-ποιοῦσι). Therefore, again, it seems more likely that both texts depend on the same source than one upon the other. Second, the context of a quotation of Asclepiades transmitted by a scholion to the Odyssey shows some coincidences of wording, but not the text actually attributed to Asclepiades. On the other hand, the parallel concerns only the Prometheus’ genealogy and genealogies are generally presented in quite repetitive syntactic schemes: Apollod. Bibl. 1.7.2 [46, 49]: Προμηθέως δὲ παῖς Δευκαλίων ἐγένετο. οὗτος βασιλεύων τῶν περὶ τὴν Φθίαν τόπων γαμεῖ Πύρραν τὴν Ἐπιμηθέως καὶ Πανδώρας, ἣν ἔπλασαν θεοὶ πρώτην γυναῖκα. … γίνονται δὲ ἐκ Πύρρας Δευκαλίωνι παῖδες Ἕλλην μὲν πρῶτος, ὃν ἐκ Διὸς γεγενν ῆσθαι λέγουσι, Ἀμφικτύων ὁ μετὰ Κραναὸν βασιλεύσας τῆς Ἀττικῆς, θυγάτηρ δὲ Πρωτογένεια, ἐξ ἧς καὶ Διὸς Ἀέθλιος. Ἕλληνος δὲ καὶ νύμφης Ὀρσηίδος Δῶρος Ξοῦθος Αἴολος. FGrH 12F26 (Schol. Hom. Od. 10.2): ἔγημε δὲ Πύρραν τὴν Ἐπιμηθέως καὶ †Πανδώραν τῆν ἀντὶ τοῦ πυρὸς δοθείσην τῷ Ἐπιμηθεῖ εἰς γυναῖκα. γίνονται δὲ τῷ Δευκαλίωνι θυγατέρες μὲν δύο Πρωτογένεια καὶ Μελάνθεια, υἱοὶ δὲ Ἀμφικτύων καὶ Ἕλλην. οἱ δὲ λέγουσιν ὅτι Ἕλλην γόνῳ μὲν ἦν Διὸς, λόγῳ δὲ Δευκαλίωνος. ἐξ οὗ Ἕλληνος Αἴολος.

So much for coincidences of wording. Regarding other types of possible connection, there are two accounts – the one on Thamyris and the other on the Lemnian androctony60 – which present a similar narrative structure. Nevertheless, wording 60 Thamyris: Apollod. Bibl. 1.3.3 [17], FGrH 12F10 (schol. Eur. Rh. 916 Merro); Lemnians: Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.17 [114–115], FGrH 12F14 (schol. Hom. Il. 7.467 Van Thiel).



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and details diverge. On Thamyris, the following differences can be found: in Apollodorus’ version, the musician challenges the Muses because he thinks he is superior, whereas in Asclepiades the competition is set up by the Muses because Thamyris commits the fault of hybris when asking them all to sleep with him because of a Thracian law. In Apollodorus, his final punishment is being deprived of both his eyes and his musical art, whereas Asclepiades only refers to the loss of his eyes.61 Regarding the Lemnian episode, in Apollodorus the first mistake in Aphrodite’s cult was committed by the women, but Asclepiades says that it was the men’s fault. As a punishment, Aphrodite sends a pestilence upon the Lemnian women in Apollodorus, but in the scholion the goddess sends the men a desire for the Thracian women. According to the Bibliotheca, the men take the Thracian women captive and then unite with them, but Asclepiades mentions only their desire. On the other side, he says that the Lemnian women vote to kill the men, a detail omitted by Apollodorus. Hypsipyle saves her father in the Bibliotheca, but not in the Tragodoumena. Both versions report the union with the Argonauts and that between Hypsipyle and Jason, but Apollodorus mentions two sons born of this union and Asclepiades only Euneus. There are also common episodes in stories which have different narrative structures, but very often, again, the details diverge. For instance, in both texts a short account of Jason’s childhood precedes the Argonauts’ expedition, but the versions are very different: Apollodorus locates Jason’s childhood at Autolycus’ court, whereas according to the text attributed to Asclepiades, his mother entrusts him to the centaur Chiron to be raised.62 Also in the context of the Argonauts’ expedition, the episode of Phineus’ punishment and liberation by the Boreads is present in both texts, thus in both cases Phineus’ story is embedded in the Argonautic tradition, but the versions diverge. This structural scheme, however, is also to be found in Apollonius Rhodius and the coincidence may therefore not be significative. The conflict between Adrastus and Amphiaraus is also related by the two texts.63 Asclepiades’ account is preserved via the MH once again. The wording is very different in the two narratives, as its structure, for Apollodorus gives a very long account with many expansions or digressions, as already said. They follow essentially the same version. There are, however, minor divergences or omissions: the name of Amphiaraus’ father differs slightly and Apollodorus’ account

61 But again, the context of Asclepiades’ quotation also provides the variant of punishment by deprivation of musical art. 62 Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.16 [107]; FGrH 12F31 (schol. Hom. Od. 12.69 Ernst). 63 Apollod. Bibl. 3.6.1–2 [58–62]; 3.7.5 [86]; FGrH 12F29 (Schol. Hom. Od. 11.326–327 Ernst).

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of how Polynices knows that he must offer the necklace to Eriphyle is omitted by the MH’s Asclepiades fragment. Apollodorus omits Alcmaeon’s name. He refers to Amphiaraus’ sons in general and the MH’s Asclepiades also mentions the epi­ gonoi. Apollodorus sets the episode of Alcmaeon’s matricide and madness after the war of the epigonoi and duplicates the motives, making the son of Polynices give Eriphyle a present to obtain her support for the war against Thebes.64 Again, Apollodorus cannot have drawn on the MH’s Asclepiades directly but we cannot exclude the possibility that both follow Asclepiades’ original, at least partially. The Epitome, as pointed out above, presents a different situation, as we do not have Apollodorus’ text itself but a summary in two different recensions. Six thematic coincidences are found there. Ixion’s crime and punishment are related both in the Epitome and in an Asclepiadean fragment.65 However, the quotation of Asclepiades is corrupt and it is not possible to know for what detail or version he was quoted.66 Tantalus is a common figure, but the texts refer to different episode: the Epitome focuses on Tantalus’ punishment in Hades while Asclepiades’ fragment recounts his crime and consequent killing by Zeus, who crushes him with Mount Sipylon, not mentioned by Apollodorus. The only common detail is that both follow the same version of Tantalus’ crime, relating that he stole ambrosia and delivered it to his people. This version of the crime was already known to Pindar.67 The Epitome gives two accounts of Neoptolemus’ death, one of which follows the same version attributed to Asclepiades: he was killed by Machaireus at Delphi. But Apollodorus has information which is omitted by the Tragodoume­ na’s fragment. This version on Neoptolemus’ death was already known to Sophocles, according to another scholion.68 Asclepiades is quoted by a scholiast on Euripides for a variant in which Hermione had a son by Neoptolemus. This agrees with the Epitome’s account that Neoptolemus took her when Orestes went insane. But they differ in that, according to the Bibliotheca, Hermione was already pregnant by Orestes in Troy. Two accounts of Orestes’ death are conveyed by the Epitome.69 One agrees with that found in an Asclepiadean fragment: both mention that he died in Arcadia from a snake bite. The only parallel to this is to be found in a scholion to Lycophron.70

64 Apollod. Bibl. 3.7.5 [86]; FGrH 12F29 (Schol. Hom. Od. 11.326–7 Ernst). 65 Apollod. Epit. 1.20 – FGrH 12F3 (Schol. Pind. Pyth. 2.40ab Drachmann). 66 Villagra 2013, 289–296. 67 Pind. Ol. 1.36–39. 68 TGF 4, Hyp. Hermione (Schol. Hom. Od. 4.4 Dindorf = Eust. Od. 1479.10). Also attested by Str. 9.3.9. 69 Apollod. Epit. 6.28 – FGrH 12F25 (schol. Eur. Or. 1645 Schwartz). 70 Schol. Lycoph. 1374.



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Finally, the name of Hecuba’s grave, ‘the grave of the bitch’, is mentioned by both the Epitome and a fragment transmitted by a scholion to Euripides.71 However, the name of the Chersonese promontory is known by many other sources and it already appears in Euripides.72 Genealogical information about the same figure is found eight times, of which two cases are divergences,73 three are full coincidences74 and the other three only partial coincidences75 – either the name of one of the parents differs, or is not refered by the words attributed to Asclepiades but by the context of the citation. The full agreements do not prove any direct relation since they are also attested in other sources. If we take into account the intermediary sources of Asclepiades’ fragments, we see that six thematic coincidences have been conveyed by Homeric scholia which are considered to belong to the MH,76 four by scholia to Euripides,77 four by scholia to Pindar78 and three by scholia to Apollonius Rhodius.79 The numeric superiority of the MH is too small to be significant. Furthermore, it is not possible to find a pattern between the intermediary source and the type of coincidence: in all cases, there are coincidences in detail that could be due to the use of a common source (i. e. Asclepiades), common subjects where the two texts follow different

71 Apollod. Epit. 5.24 – FGrH 12F24 (schol. Eur. Hec. 1273 Schwartz). 72 Eur. Hec. 1257–1273; Str. 13.1.28, 7a.1.56; Ov. Met. 13.423–575; Hyg. Fab. 111; Serv. Aen 3.6. 73 On Orpheus: Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.16 [111] – FGrH 12F6; on Phineus: Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.21 [120] – FGrH 12F22 (Schol. Ap. Rhod. 2.178–82ab Wendel). 74 On Glaucus: Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.3 [85] – FGrH 12F1; on Arsinoe: Apollod. Bibl. 3.10.3 [118–119] – FGrH 12F32 (Schol. Pind. Pyth. 3.14); on Pegasus: Apollod. Bibl. 2.3.2 [32] – FGrH 12F13 (Schol. Hom. Il. 6.155 van Thiel). 75 On Jason’s genealogy: Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.16 [107] – FGrH 12F31 (schol. Hom. Od. 12.69 Ernst); on Deucalion: Apollod. Bibl. 1.7.2 [46, 49]; F 26 = Schol. Hom. Od. 10.2; on Alastor: Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.9 [93]; FGrH 12F21 (schol. Ap. Rhod. 1.156–60b Wendel). 76 F26 (Schol. Hom. Od. 10.2) – Apollod. Bibl. 1.7.2 [46, 49]; F31 (Schol. Hom. Od. 12.69), Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.16 [107]; 1.9.21 [120]; F14 (Schol. Hom. Il. 7.467 Van Thiel) – Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.17–18 [114–15]; F12 (Schol. Il. 3.325 van Thiel) – Apollod. Bibl. 3.4.2 [149]; F30 (Schol. Od. 11.582 Ernst) – Apollod. Epit. 1.24. 77 F25 (schol. Eur. Or. 1645 Schwartz) – Epit. 6.28; F24 (schol. Eur. Hec. 1273 Schwartz) – Apollod. Epit. 5.24; F10 (Schol. Eur. Rhes. 916 Merro) – Apollod. Bibl. 1.3.3 [17]; F23 (Schol. Eur. Andr. 32 Schwartz) – Apollod. Epit. 6.13–14. 78 F3 (Schol. Pind. Pyth. 2.40ab Drachmann) – Epit. 1.20; F6a (Schol. Pind. Pyth. 4.313a) – Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.16 [111]; F 32 (Schol. Pind. Pyth. 3.14 Drachmann) – Apollod. Bibl. 3.10.3 [118–119]; F15 (Schol. Pind. Nem. 7.62abc Drachmann) – Apollod. Epit. 6.14. 79 F21 (Schol. Ap. Rhod. 1.156–60b Wendel) – Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.9 [93]; F22 (Schol. Ap. Rhod. 2.178–82ab Wendel) – Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.21 [120]; F2 (Schol. Ap. Rhod. 2.328a + 2.562 Wendel) – Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.22 [125].

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versions and also partial parallels. Of the six parallels with Asclepiades’ fragments transmitted by the Homeric scholia-MH, only the narrative of Phineus’ advice on navigating between the Symplegades and the mention of the name of the shepherd who raised Paris are positive parallels. Regarding the ­passages conveyed by the scholia to Euripides, the version of Orestes’ death and the detail of the name of Hecuba’s grave are common, but only Orestes’ death may be ­significant. The Asclepiadean fragments transmitted by the scholia to Pindar agree with the Bibliotheca on the version of Arsinoe’s genealogy80 and on the name of Neoptolemus’ killer, Machaireus.81 In the ones transmitted by the scholia to Apollonius Rhodius there is a parallel with Apollodorus in the fact that both mention Alastor82 as a son of Neleus and both give the detail that the Argonauts navigated through the Symplegades with the aid of a dove.83 Divergences between Apollodorus and Asclepiades transmitted thorugh the Homeric scholia-MH relate to the stories of Jason’s childhood,84 Phineus’ punishment and liberation,85 the Lemnian androctony86 and Tantalus;87 in the scholia to Euripides, Thamyris’ story differ from the Bibliotheca,88 as do Orpheus’ genealogy89 and the story on Ixion,90 and there is some divergence of detail in the accounts of the death of Neoptolemus91 in the scholia to Pindar and Apollodorus. In the scholia to Apollonius Rhodius, Phineus’ genealogy is divergent.92 Therefore, when we compare the relationship between the Asclepidean fragments transmitted by the Homeric scholia-MH and the Bibliotheca, on the one hand, to the relationship of the Asclepiadean fragments transmitted by other intermediary sources and the Bibliotheca, on the other hand, it is not possible to set out any particularity in the fragments conveyed by the MH. The fact that the MH’s Asclepiades is the most frequent intermediary source for accounts that are found both in Apollodorus and Asclepiades of Tragilus could be caused by the fact that out of the 32 Asclepiadean fragments edited by Jacoby, nine are conveyed 80 F31. 81 F15. 82 F22. 83 F2. 84 F31. 85 F31. 86 F14. 87 F29. 88 F10. 89 F6. 90 F3. 91 F15. 92 F22.



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by scholia to Homer that are considered MH, making it the most frequent intermediary source of Asclepiadean fragments.

5 Conclusions The evidence to support the notion that the Tragodoumena was used by Apollodorus as a source of tragic plots is very limited. Nor do we have strong evidence that Apollodorus drew on the Tragodoumena mainly through the MH. The main conclusion of this article is that the comparison between texts and textual artefacts proves useful when applied to a specific detail or myth, but this allows no room for generalisations. The frequency of positive coincidences is not sufficient to suggest global dependence. The present state of the texts precludes any definitive conclusion because when we have a fragmentary text we can never rule out the possibility that it is not representative of the original. Even when we can say that Apollodorus most probably depended on Asclepiades – for the Sphinx’s riddle, for instance – we have no means to check if this dependence was at firstor second-hand. Many subjects are common to several texts, but Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca is a comprehensive narrative from the beginning to the Trojan war. It is thus natural that he deals with many of the subjects we will find in scholia, theatre or poetry. On the other hand, neither the coincidences nor the oppositions are radical; most remain in a grey fog of partial similarities. As a consequence, one wonders if the fact that the texts share thematic or structural narrative features is not simply the effect of a common cultural ambiance. Regarding the Tra­ godoumena and the Tales from Euripides, I think that they have been channelled by different traditions, which would suggest a different nature in their origin. Finally, I believe that this exercise proves useful in highlighting many methodological issues that come up when we endeavour this type of work: besides the aforementioned problem of comparing a text to a textual artefact, we need to think about what to compare – details, narrative structure, subject, wording – and how we should interpret the data, as many coincidences are partial.

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Greek Papyrological Society, 1988), 337–344 (= F. Montanari, Studi di Filologia Omerica Antica II (Pisa: Giardini, 1995), 69–85). Müller, Carl & Müller, Theodor. Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum. Vol. III (Paris: Didot, 1849). Osborne, M.J. and S.G. Byrne (ed.). Lexicon of Greek Personal Names II: Attica (Oxford: University Press, 1994). Pagès, Joan. Mythographus Homericus. Estudi i edició comentada (Diss. Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona, 2007). Pàmias, Jordi. (ed.). Ferecides d’Atenes, Històries. Fragments 81–180A. Introducció, edició crítica, traducció i notes, Vol. II (Barcelona: Fundació Bernat Metge, 2008). Panzer, Johannes. De Mythographo Homerico restituendo (Diss. Greifswald, 1892). Pellizer, Ezio. La mitografia, in: Lo spazio letterario della Grecia antica, Vol. I. La produzion e la circolazione del testo, tomo II. L’ellenismo, edited by G. Cambiano et al. (Roma: Salerno, 1993), 283–303. Robert, Carl. De Apollodori Bibliotheca (Diss. Berlin: Schade, 1873). Robert, Carl. Oedipus. Geschichte eines poetischen Stoffs im griechischen Altertum (Berlin: Weidmann, 1915). Rusten, Jeffrey. Dicaearchus and the Tales from Euripides. GBRS 23 (1982), 357–367. Scarpi, Paolo. Apollodoro. I miti greci. Biblioteca (Milano: Mondadori, 1996). Schwartz, Eduardus. De scholiis homericis ad historiam fabularem pertinentibus, Neue Philologische Jahrbücher 12 (1881), 405–463. Schwartz, Jacques. Papyrus et tradition manuscrite, ZPE 4 (1969), 175–182. Turner, Eric G. The Oxyrhynchus Papyri 27 (London: Egypt Exploration Society, 1962). Van Rossum-Steenbeek, Monique. Greek Reader’s Digests? Studies on a selection of subliterary papyri (Leiden-New York-Köln: Brill, 1998). Villagra, Nereida. Pègasos i el fragment 13 d’Asclepíades de Tràgilos, in: Artes ad Humanitatem vol. I, edited by E. Borrell and P. Gómez (Barcelona: SEEC, 2010), 177–185. Villagra, Nereida. Commenting on Asclepiades of Tragilos: Methodological Considerations on a Fragmentary Mythographer, in: Learning from the Past: Methodological Considerations on Studies of Antiquity and Middle Ages. Proceedings of the First Postgraduate Conference on Studies of Antiquity and Middle Ages, edited by A. Castro et al. British Archaeological Reports International Series (Oxford, 2013), 289–296. Villagra, Nereida. Fragmentary Mythography as a Source: Neoptolemos at Delphi in the Tragodumena, in: Actes du Colloque International “Quelles sources pour l’étude de la Méditerranée antique: approches, enjeux, méthodes (8, 9 d’avril, 2011)”, edited by Mathilde Carrive, Marie-Adeline Le Guennec and Lucia Rossi (Aix-en-Provence: Presses Universitaires de Provence, 2014), 27–41. Villagra, Nereida. Los Τραγῳδούμενα de Asclepíades de Tragilo: una obra mitográfica, Faventia 30 (2008), 285–295. Villagra, Nereida. Τραγῳδούμενα. Edición crítica, traducción y comentario de los fragmentos atribuidos a Asclepíades de Tragilo (Diss. Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona, 2012). Werfer, F. X. Asclepiadis Tragilensis Tragodoumenôn reliquiae, Acta Philologorum Monacensium 2 (1815), 491–557. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Ulrich von. Analecta Euripidea (Berlin: sumptibus fratrum Borntraeger, 1875). Zuntz, Günther. The Political Plays of Euripides (Manchester: University Press, 1955).

Joan Pagès

5 Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca and the Mythographus Homericus: An Intertextual Approach Under the conventional name Mythographus Homericus (hereinafter referred to as MH), we refer to a handbook of mythology containing a collection of historiae fabulares, namely, summaries of myths, under Homeric lemmata.1 This work is attested by papyri from the 1st century CE onwards.2 All that remains of the entire corpus can be found in the MSS of the D-Scholia to the Iliad (otherwise known as Scholia Minora), and some other scholia to the Odyssey. The oldest codex of the D-Scholia dates from the 9th century. Today it is cut into two pieces and conserved in two halves, the Romanus Graecus 6 and the Matritensis 4626. Some other codices like this contain the D-Scholia including the historiae ­fabulares copied from the MH:3 the Vaticanus Graecus 2193 (11th c.), the Vaticanus Graecus 33 (11th c.), the Vaticanus Graecus 32 (12th c.) and the Riccardianus 30 (13th c.) The Marcianus 454, the famous Venetus A (10th c.), contains the text of the Iliad along with a rich collection of scholia, including many of the D-Scholia, and even some historiae fabulares absent in the other MSS. The D-Scholia to the Odyssey are scattered throughout the various codices which preserve the poem with scholia.4

1 Panzer 1892 was the first to use this denomination, following Schwartz 1881. On the so-called historiae fabulares, namely, the mythographical D-Scholia to Homer, see Pfeiffer 1937, 14–16, who established the relationship between the papyri and the scholia discussed by Panzer. See also Diller 1935; van der Valk 1964; more recently, Henrichs 1987; Montanari 1995; van Rossum-­ Steenbeek 1998, chap. 3; Cameron 2004, chap. 3; Dickey 2007, 26; Higbie 2007, 250–252. 2 A complete catalogue of the papyri can be consulted in Montanari 1995. Editions and scholarship concerning the issue: Gärtner 1999; Grenfell-Hunt 1903; Haslam 1990 and 1996; Luppe 1984, 1993, 1996a-d; 1997a/b and 2009; Merkelbach 1956; Parsons 1974; van Rossum-Steenbeek 1996a/b; Schubert 1995. 3 Regarding the tradition of the D-Scholia, see De Marco 1932; Montanari 1979, 1988, 1993 and 1994. An updated edition of the D-Scholia in van Thiel 2014. Dindorf edited most of the D-Scholia (those included in the Venetus A). Erbse, surprisingly, removed all the historiae fabulares from his comprehensive edition of the Homeric scholia. 4 An excellent, updated study on the Scholia to the Odyssey in Pontani 2005. The edition recently undertaken by Pontani is at present at its third volume (Scholia to books ε-ζ).

Joan Pagès, Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-005

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The papyri bear testimony of the circulation of this handbook from, at least, the 1st century CE until the end of Antiquity.5 Some of the extant remains offer a slightly abridged version of the historiae in comparison to the reading given by the medieval scholia. This does not necessarily mean that the papyri retain the MH’s original text, as opposed to an extended form in the scholia, as has often been considered.6 There may be another explanation: some papyri could be the remains of more or less abridged copies. Some stories in the papyri are clearly summarised. This seems to be the case, for example, in the story of Ophioneus, told in the D-Schol. to Hom. Il. 8.479 and in POxy. 3830 (fr. 3, col. 2.1–10 Harder). In this story the reading of the text written by the D-scholiast appears to be a remake of the extremely abridged version in the papyrus. Two explanations can be given: 1) The scholiast had a better copy of the MH than the one we can read in POxy. 3830; 2) The scholiast, aware of the poor version at his disposal, has rewritten the text in order to enhance it. We shall return to this issue. The fact that some of the historiae in the papyri are almost identical to their equivalents in the scholia lead as to think that the papyri show different degrees of abridgement.7 The Florence Papyrus 1173,8 featuring a set of stories under lemmata of the books 11–13 of the Odyssey, is the longest example, and, on the whole, its wording is quite close to the text of the counterparts in the medieval MSS. Another significant example is the story told in D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 20.403– 404, which can be read in two papyri, POxy. 4096 and PBerol. 13282, both featuring almost the same text as the corresponding scholium. Some other papyri are so damaged that very little can be said. In fact, The D-Scholia have proven very useful to the editors of the papyri to fill in some gaps in the text. Thus, the different levels of abridgement shown by the papyri suggest that all these remains of ancient books could be evidence for different levels of quality in the manufacturing of ancient books.9 The huge amount of papyri found in different sites in Egypt such as Oxyrhynchus, Arsinoe and Hermoupolis is proof of intense book trading.10 The MH papyri are very likely pieces of books written upon demand.11 Certainly, the buyer of a handbook could give specific instructions to

5 The oldest papyrus is POxy. 418, dated from the late 1st / early 2nd century CE according to its editors Grenfell and Hunt. The latest one is PBerol. 13930, from the 5th century. 6 Montanari 1995, 148–149; van Rossum-Steenbeek 1998, 88–111. 7 Montanari 1995, 148–154; Cameron 2004, 55. 8 Ed. Coppola in Pubblicazioni della Società Italiana per la Ricerca dei Papiri Greci e Latini in Egitto (PSI) 10, Florence 1932, 131–140. Pfeiffer (1937, 14–16) attributed this papyrus to the MH. 9 Cavallo 1994; Houston 2009; Pordomingo 2004, 311–314. 10 Johnson 1992, 237–239. 11 Cameron 2004, 59.

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the book manufacturer regarding its dimensions, the selection of works or passages from a work, and the like. This could be the reason behind all these differences in wording. A significant piece of information can be drawn from a letter found in Papyrus Petaus 30: Iulius Placidius writes to his father that he collated eight of his books with some copies shown to him by a bookseller.12 This could mean that he wrote in the margins of his books uariae lectiones drawn from the bookseller’s copies. This is an interesting example of a reader’s awareness of the problems concerning textual transmission. On the other hand, the medieval scholia plausibly come from copies kept in major public libraries, where the most complete version of the MH could be found, as well as those summarized versions we are referring to. In conclusion, as I pointed out at the beginning, the text we read on medieval MSS is not necessarily an extension of the original text shown by the papyri. On the contrary, in some cases it might be the outcome of a textual tradition inherited directly from the best copies kept in major libraries. In other cases, though, the text of the MH must have been altered through several centuries of textual tradition and the D-Scholiast must have found a good many corrupted passages. As we shall see, he seems to have used Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca to rewrite some of those damaged sections.13 Among the historiae fabulares transmitted within the MSS of the D-Scholia to the Iliad and attributable to the MH, an author called Apollodorus is cited in the usual subscriptio at the end.14 Four of them can be closely linked to corresponding passages in Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca, insofar as they offer some literal matches in the text that reveal a close relation of intertextuality between the two works. The scholia in which these historiae are kept are as follows (the corresponding passage in the Bibliotheca in brackets): D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 1.10 (1.7.2 [47], on Deucalion), D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 1.42 (2.1.4 [10], Danaus), D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 2.103 (2.1.3 [6], Io) and D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 2.494 (3.4.1 [21], Cadmus). The other two quotations appear in D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 13.12 (regarding the Ionian colonisation in Samothrace)15 and D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 21.448 (Apollo Nomios), but they do not correspond to any passages in the Bibliotheca or the Epitome. Apollodorus is named without any reference to a title of a book. There is another story that must be taken into consideration in spite of its textual problems, as it quotes Apollonius (sic) the Grammarian’s Catalogue of Ships,16 12 Clarysse 1983, 44. 13 I avoid the prefix pseudo-. I refer to the author of the Bibliotheca simply as Apollodorus. References to the homonymous Athenian grammarian will be explicit. 14 Cf. Lünstedt 1961, i–v; Montanari 1995, 143–144; 154–164; Van Rossum-Steenbeek 1998, ­111–113. 15 FGrH 244F178. 16 FGrH 244F158.

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amended to “Apollodorus” by Valckenaer: it is D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 8.284. These three cases show the confusion between the Athenian Grammarian Apollodorus and the mythographer who wrote the Bibliotheca. Thus, both authors might have had the same name or, in any case, this is the name given to the author of the Bibliotheca by later tradition. Therefore, these three stories need to be considered differently: they do not refer to the Bibliotheca, but to Apollodorus of Athens, the Grammarian. They are proof that the MH used this author as a source and probably cited him in the subscriptio at least in these three cases as the D-Scholia suggest. By contrast, this author is never cited by the author of the Bibliotheca. On the other hand, some other historiae offer a close relationship with the Bibliotheca but no reference to Apollodorus is given. In some cases, other sources are cited instead. We refer specifically to the historiae contained in the following D-Scholia (again with reference to the corresponding passage of Apollodorus in parentheses): D- Schol. in Hom. Il. 2.106 (Epit. 2.10–12, on Atreus and Thyestes; cf. Schol. in Eur. Or. 811) D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 2.595 (1.3.3 [16–17], on Thamyris) D- Schol. in Hom. Il. 8.368 (2.5.12 [122–125], Heracles’ katabasis); D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 14.319 (2.4.1 [34], Perseus); D- Schol. in Hom. Il. 14.323 (3.4.3 [26], Semele); D- Schol. in Hom. Il. 15.229 (1.1.5-6 [4–5], Zeus’ childhood). We must add D-Schol. in Hom. Il.16.36 (3.13.6 [171–172], Thetis and Peleus) and D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 19.326 (3.13.8 [174], on Achilles at Scyros), which are related at a lesser degree as the coincidences are few. These two cases will be analysed below. In fact, not all these cases are fully comparable, nor can they be examined under the same criteria, since the degree of literalness ranges from an almost identical text to a loose relationship based on random coincidences. In light of these observations, a number of questions arise: why, among all the matches between the two mythographical works, do only four of the scholia cite Apollodorus as source? Why is an author called Apollodorus cited twice (or thrice if Valckenaer’s emendation is right) referring to a passage that has nothing to do with the Bibliotheca? What kind of intertextual relationship exists between the MH and the Bibliotheca? The problem has already been discussed. Besides the paper by Diller cited above, mention must be made of Peter Lünstedt’s thesis,17 who admits that the subscriptiones quoting Apollodorus must be considered as valid and, therefore, the historiae fabulares in the D-Scholia are secondary and dependent on the Bib­ liotheca. Martinus van der Valk expressed the same opinion when addressing the issue, albeit somewhat tangentially, in his article on Apollodorus,18 in which he

17 Lünstedt 1961, 24–34. 18 Van der Valk 1958.

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asserts that the mythographical source consulted by the writer of the D-Scholia is the MH. He even states that the MH was able to recognise the sources consulted by Apollodorus, sources that the MH quotes in some of the subscriptiones at the end of the historiae fabulares.19 In my opinion, this hypothesis cannot be proven, as I consider it an a priori and an excessively reductionist argument. In a subsequent study dedicated to the mythographical D-Scholia,20 van der Valk holds the same opinion. More recently, Monique van Rossum-Steenbeek has taken up the issue, endeavouring to delve somewhat deeper.21 She concludes that all these passages, in which a part of the Apollodorus text has been passed to the D-Scholia, are simply late interpolations that were absent in the original MH. This hypothesis is based on the fact that none of the remains of the MH found on papyrus contain any references to Apollodorus at all, nor is there any textual coincidence with the Bibliotheca. Nevertheless, it is worth mentioning that the extant papyri only allow us to read, with difficulty, meagre fragments of the work, and they actually represent a tiny part of what the original MH must have been, and therefore, we do not have sufficient evidence to draw such an inference. Furthermore, in one of the fragments of POxy. 4096, featuring some remains of the story embedded in D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 21.448,22 a quotation to Apollodorus might have appeared,23 as it certainly does in the corresponding D-Scholium (although without any relation to the Bibliotheca). Robert Fowler has recently collected and analysed all the cases in which there is a clear coincidence in wording between Apollodorus and the D-Scholia.24 Most of them are clearly related to the MH.25 Fowler considers these coincidences as proof of interpolation from the Bibliotheca in the D-Scholia. For those cases in which the scholia provide a better reading than Apollodorus’, he considers that the D-Scholiast had a better copy of the Bibliotheca than the one that has come down to us, which seems very likely indeed. Nevertheless, the differences might be due to other reasons, as we shall see. Let us consider Apollodorus in relation to the MH: was one of them used as a source by the other? Did they share common sources? The analysis that follows 19 Van der valk 1958, 120. 20 Van der Valk 1964, 303–413. 21 Van Rossum-Steenbeek 1998, 108–111. 22 Listed above. 23 Schubert 1995, 21; Haslam 1996, 116; van Rossum-Steenbeek 1996a, 34. 24 Fowler 2013, 378–384. 25 The only exceptions are the schol. in Hom. Il. 1.195 ~ Apollod. Bibl. 1.3.6 [20] (Fowler 2013, 380 case 4) and schol. in 12.117 ~Apollod. Bibl. 1.7.2 [49] (Fowler 2013, 382, case 11). These two scholia do not appear to be drawn from the MH as they are not, to be precise, historiae fabulares. Allegoristic interpretations such as the former are absent from the MH corpus. The latter is a mere, short genealogical note.

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is based on the examination of all the cases, but for obvious reasons, I shall use only some of them as examples. We need to bear in mind that an analysis on the intertextual relationship between Apollodorus and the MH has some limitations that have to be considered from the beginning. First and foremost, we read most of the text of the MH through the later versions in the D-Scholia, and we must assume that the text might have been altered. In fact, most of the coincidences between Apollodorus and the D-Scholia could be explained as an attempt to reconstruct the damaged text of the MH with the help of a good copy of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca, as has been already pointed out. Let us examine some examples. The D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 1.42 features a story about the origin of the word Δαναοί from the name Danaus, son of Egypt and brother of Belos. In comparison with Apollodorus (2.1.4 [10]), we can note that the text is almost identical. The beginning of the story is: D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 1.42:

Apollod. Bibl. 2.1.4 [10]:

Ἔπαφος δὲ βασιλεύων Αἰγυπτίων γαμεῖ Μέμφιν τὴν Νείλου θυγατέρα, καὶ ἀπὸ ταύτης κτίζει Μέμφιν πόλιν, καὶ τεκνοῖ θυγατέρα Λιβύην, ἀφ’ ἧς ἡ χώρα Λιβύη ἐκλήθη. Λιβύης δὲ καὶ Ποσειδῶνος γίνονται παῖδες δίδυμοι Βῆλος δὲ Ἀγήνορος μὲν ἦν Ἀγήνωρ καὶ Βῆλος. Ἀγήνωρ μὲν οὖν εἰς ἀδελφὸς, υἱὸς δὲ Ποσειδῶνος καὶ Φοινίκην ἀπαλλαγεὶς βασίλευσε, κἀκεῖ Λιβύης, ἀφ’ ἧς ἡ χώρα ὠνομάσθη τῆς μεγάλης ῥίζης ἐγένετο γενεάρχης· Λιβύη. βασιλεύων δὲ Αἰγυπτίων, γαμεῖ Ἀγχινόην τὴν Νείλου θυγατέρα. ὅθεν ὑπερθησόμεθα περὶ τούτου. Βῆλος δὲ ὑπομείνας ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ βασιλεύει καὶ γίγνονται παῖδες αὐτῷ δίδυμοι, Αἴγυπτος, καὶ Δαναός. Δαναὸν μὲν οὖν μὲν Αἰγύπτου, γαμεῖ δὲ Ἀγχινόην τὴν ὁ Βῆλος ἐν Λιβύῃ κατοικίζει, Αἴγυπτον Νείλου θυγατέρα, καὶ αὐτῷ γίνονται παῖδες δίδυμοι, Αἴγυπτος καὶ Δαναός, δὲ ἐν Ἀῤῥαβίᾳ. ὃς καταστρεψάμενος ὡς δέ φησιν Εὐριπίδης, καὶ Κηφεὺς τὴν Μελαμπόδων χώραν, ἀφ’ ἑαυτοῦ καὶ Φινεὺς προσέτι. Δαναὸν μὲν οὖν ὠνόμασεν Αἴγυπτον. γίγνονται Βῆλος ἐν Λιβύῃ κατῴκισεν, Αἴγυπτον δὲ ἐκ πολλῶν γυναικῶν, Αἰγύπτῳ δὲ ἐν Ἀραβίᾳ, ὃς καὶ καταστρεψάμενος μὲν πεντήκοντα παῖδες, Δαναῷ δὲ τὴν Μελαμπόδων χώραν θυγατέρες πεντήκοντα κτλ… ὠνόμασεν Αἴγυπτον. γίνονται δὲ ἐκ πολλῶν γυναικῶν Αἰγύπτῳ μὲν παῖδες πεντήκοντα, θυγατέρες δὲ Δαναῷ πεντήκοντα κτλ…

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According to van der Valk’s hypothesis, the scholiast copied the text from the MH, who, in turn, would have consulted Apollodorus. On the other hand, if we agree with van Rossum-Steenbeek, the scholiast would have copied directly from Apollodorus. According to both hypotheses, the scholium is considered secondary and Apollodorus is presumably the original. Yet both hypotheses are based merely on chronology. However, the possible dependence of the scholium on the handbook does not solve some problems that we encounter when tackling an intertextual study.26 Let us read both texts with more in-depth comparison. The scholium tells that Danaus had his daughters kill the sons of Egypt except one or two, because an oracle had predicted that one of them would kill him: Δαναὸς τοὺς τοῦ Αἰγύπτου παῖδας, πλὴν ἑνὸς ἢ δυεῖν, διὰ τῶν θυγατέρων ἀνεῖλε· δεδοικὼς, καθότι καὶ ἐκ χρησμοῦ ἠκηκόει, ὅτι φονευθήσεται ὑπὸ ἑνὸς αὐτῶν. Apollodorus simply says Δαναὸς τοὺς Αἰγύπτου παῖδας δεδοικώς. The story continues with the flight of him and his daughters. Apollodorus neither explains the death of the sons of Egypt nor mentions the oracle. Then, if the scholium depends on Apollodorus, where does this information contained in the scholium originate from? According to Fowler, the scholiast had a better version of the Bib­ liotheca. Yet we need to consider the MH. The scholiast could have combined both texts. Both texts continue, in a very similar wording, with the intervention of Athena, suggesting the construction of the boat to escape and the episode set in Lindos, Rhodes, where Danaus founded the sanctuary of Athena Lindia. Nevertheless, some information given by the scholium is missing again in Apollodorus’ text: the ship they were travelling in was named Pentecontoros after the number of Danaus’ daughters. The story of the scholium ends with the settling of Danaus and his daughters in Argos, which defines the meaning of the adjective Δαναοί, and that is precisely what the D-Scholiast (following the MH) intended to explain. Apollodorus moves on to narrate the aition for the sources at Lerna and gives further details at the end of the myth, such as the intervention of Satyr.27 Given these observations, we realise that van der Valk’s and van Rossum-Steenbeek’s hypotheses cannot explain why the scholium kept details not mentioned in the Bibliotheca. An answer can be found in Diller’s suggestion (followed by Cameron) that both the scholium and the Bibliotheca share a common source.28 Diller, although he was not aware of the existence of the MH papyri,

26 Fowler (2013, 379–380, case 2) admits several plausible explanations. 27 Cf. Cuartero 2012, 28 n. 43. 28 Diller 1935, 298; Cameron 2004, 97–98.

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he refers to a collateral text, citing Schwartz, Panzer,29 and Robert.30 This hypothetical text would have been the MH itself, and Apollodorus would have copied from him. Hence, another question arises: could Apollodorus have copied the text from the MH (which is not necessarily an earlier text)?31 I suggest two possible explanations: Hypothesis 1: both Apollodorus and the MH (not the D-scholiast) could have consulted and copied the same source. As we have just seen, some details of the myth only appear in one of the two versions. Therefore, both could have plagiarised and omitted certain details in terms of what issues were given precedence in the story. Omission in either of them is the strongest argument for this hypothesis. Hypothesis 2: as a matter of fact, the majority of the historiae fabulares in the scholia come from the MH. Therefore, the MH is the main source for the mythographical parts of the D-Scholia, whereas the Bibliotheca was only used in those cases where identical wording is proof of straightforward copy. Yet, why should the scholiast use the Bibliotheca for the historiae fabulares if he had the MH at his disposal? The possible explanation has been already pointed out: given that some of the stories in the MH offered an extremely abridged version such as those given by some of the extant papyri, the scholiast endeavoured to provide a better reading. Thus he rewrote the corrupted parts of the MH using the Bibliotheca. He literally copied some parts of the Bibliotheca and, at the same time, he kept some of the details contained in the abridged version of the MH otherwise missing in the Bibliotheca. Among this information was, in some cases, the final subscriptio, namely, the quotation of an authoritative source. Some of the sources quoted by the MH are preserved in the D-Scholia, but never mentioned by Apollodorus. We shall return to this issue. Both hypotheses are not mutually exclusive. Furthermore, since not all the stories need to be considered equally, we conclude that each hypothesis can help to solve different cases. As far as hypothesis 1 is concerned, the extant papyri have proven useless. No literal coincidence between Apollodorus and the MH papyri can be found. Therefore, we need to rely on the text from the D-Scholia. Yet, as has been said, literalness can be proof of interpolation from the Bibliotheca. This is a circular argument leading nowhere. Nevertheless, assuming that the sources

29 See note 1. 30 Diller 1935, 298 and 298 note 5. 31 A terminus ante quem is the existence of fragments on papyrus from the 1st century CE. Let us recall that Castor, an author from the same period, is quoted in the Bibliotheca (2.1.3 [5]).

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quoted at the end of the historiae fabulares in the D-Scholia come from the MH, as some of the fragments on papyri prove, some of the authors cited are common sources to both mythographers. The main shared sources (and cited by both) are Hesiod and the early mythographers Pherecydes, Acusilaus and Asclepiades of Tragilus. Hellanicus of Lesbos could be a common source as well, even though he is never mentioned by Apollodorus. The D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 2.494 might be a piece of evidence for that. It is a clear interpolation from the Bibliotheca as the text is almost identical. The subscriptio given at the end by the D-scholiast is ἱστορεῖ Ἑλλάνικος ἐν Βοιωτιακοῖς καὶ Ἀπολλόδωρος εν τῷ γ’. I suggest that the D-scholiast replaced most of the corrupted text from the MH by the text from the Bibliotheca, but kept some details and the final subscriptio from the MH which very likely rendered the quotation to Hellanicus’ Boeotiaca.32 Finally, the D-scholiast added the reference to Apollodorus’ 3rd book as he had used this work to emend the damaged version from the MH. We can conclude that the D-scholiast replaced the MH text by the story from the Bibliotheca because not only were they narrating the same story but they were very similar in wording, and this similarity might be due to the fact that both, the MH and Apollodorus, were following the same source, namely, a summary of Hellanicus’ Boeotiaca. This is, of course, merely conjectural, but it is a plausible explanation of the double quotation in the D-Scholium, and a hint that Apollodorus could have used Hellanicus as a source.33 On the other hand, we have two examples of the independence of both as narrating the same story: D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 16.36 (3.13.6 [171–172] Thetis and Peleus) and D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 19.326 (3.13.8 [174], on Achilles at Scyros). The first one begins with a strange motif about Thetis and Peleus: Thetis killed six children burnt as she was trying to immortalize them. The seventh, Achilles, was spared thanks to Peleus, who took her by surprise and shouted, avoiding the child’s death. The fire ritual with Achilleus is told in Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca as well, but the seven brothers-motif comes from Lycophron,34 who is mentioned by the D-scholiast in the final subscriptio. Only a specific passage in both texts show some coincidences:

32 Hellanic. fr. 51 Fowler. Cf. Fowler 2013, 357–361, 682–684. 33 Cf. again Fowler 2013, 380–382, who provides a detailed analysis and suggests three possible explanations. 34 Lycoph. 178 and schol. ed. Scheer. In fact, the MH probably refers to the scholium, where the whole story is told, not to the text of the Alexandra, where there is only a reference to the seven children. By the way, to judge by the textual coincidences, the scholiast to Lycophron used Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca.

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D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 16.36 Θέτις, καταναγκασθεῖσα ὑπὸ Διὸς Πηλεῖ γαμηθῆναι, τὰ γεννώμενα παιδία εἰς πῦρ ἔβαλλε, νομίζουσα τὰς θνητὰς τῷ πυρὶ σάρκας καταφλέξειν, τὸ δὲ ἀθάνατον διαφυλάξειν. Οὕτως ἓξ παῖδας διέφθειρεν. ἕβδομον δὲ γενόμενον, Ἀχιλλέα, βάλλει ὁμοίως εἰς πῦρ. Θεασάμενος δὲ Πηλεὺς, ἀφήρπασε τὸν παῖδα, καὶ ἐνεγκὼν εἰς τὸ Πήλιον ὄρος, τρέφειν παρέδωκε Χείρωνι. Ὁ δὲ, λεόντων καὶ ἄρκτων μυελοῖς τρέφων, ἐκάλεσεν Ἀχιλλέα.

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Apollod. Bibl. 3. 3.13.6 [171–172] ὡς δὲ ἐγέννησε Θέτις ἐκ Πηλέως βρέφος, ἀθάνατον θέλουσα ποιῆσαι τοῦτο, κρύφα Πηλέως εἰς τὸ πῦρ ἐγκρύβουσα τῆς νυκτὸς ἔφθειρεν ὃ ἦν αὐτῷ θνητὸν πατρῷον, μεθ’ ἡμέραν δὲ ἔχριεν ἀμβροσίᾳ. Πηλεὺς δὲ ἐπιτηρήσας καὶ σπαίροντα τὸν παῖδα ἰδὼν ἐπὶ τοῦ πυρὸς ἐβόησε· καὶ Θέτις κωλυθεῖσα τὴν προαίρεσιν τελειῶσαι, νήπιον τὸν παῖδα ἀπολιποῦσα πρὸς Νηρηίδας ᾤχετο. κομίζει δὲ τὸν παῖδα πρὸς Χείρωνα Πηλεύς. ὁ δὲ λαβὼν αὐτὸν ἔτρεφε σπλάγχνοις λεόντων καὶ συῶν ἀγρίων καὶ ἄρκτων μυελοῖς, καὶ ὠνόμασεν Ἀχιλλέα.

The verbatim coincidences are minimal. Some clauses may hint a shared hypotext (marked in italics), but the differences are far superior. Moreover, the story was so well known that these coincidences may be due to common knowledge. The text of the scholium is longer, but the rest has nothing to do with Apollodorus. The D-scholiast very likely took this story from the MH, who used several sources, but cited only Lycophron. This poet from the Hellenistic period is quoted in other three stories in the D-Scholia.35 The MH took into account some strange versions from Hellenistic poets. In this case, he introduces the seven-­brothersmotif from Lycophron at the beginning, and then goes on to narrate the most common part of the story, which can be read in Apollodorus as well, who probably never used Lycophron as a source. In sum, a straightforward relationship between the MH and Apollodorus cannot be proven from this particular case neither. As far as the second case is concerned (D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 19.326, about Achilles at Scyros), we have a piece of papyrus at our disposal. The little that can be read suffices to prove that the text of the papyrus is different from that of the scholium. This could be due to the fact that the text of the papyrus was an abstract or that the text of the D-Scholium was rewritten by the scholiast. In my opinion, the first explanation is the right one, but it cannot be proven with the meagre material at our disposal. Had the D-scholiast rewritten the

35 D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 5.412, 20.215 and 24.251.

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story, he probably would have used Apollodorus. But Apollodorus’ text is also very abridged at this point, and it would have been useless. Thus, the most likely explanation is to assume that the text in the scholium preserves the most complete version from the MH and the papyrus renders an abridged one. Let us turn now to hypothesis 2, namely, that the D-Scholiast amended some of the stories from the MH with sections of the text of Apollodorus. We need to find a piece of evidence for a case of substitution of an original piece of text from the MH for a passage of the Bibliotheca which recounts the same story. The story told in D-Schol. in Hom. Il. 14.319 appears to be useful to some extent, in spite of the meagre text that can be read on the papyrus. Let us examine this case and try to draw some conclusions. At the beginning of the story, the papyrus (line 4) renders the text ]ργους βασιλ[, probably Ἄργους βασιλέως referring to Acrisius.36 The beginning of the story in the related D-Scholium says Δανάη Ἀκρισίου θυγάτηρ, probably taken from the MH Δανά]ης καλλισφύρου Ἀ[κρισιώνης: Δανάη Ἀκρισίου τοῦ Ἀ]ργους βασιλ[έως (the right part of the papyrus is lost). In any case, there is no room in lines 5 and 6, which are almost completely lost, for explaining the oracle given to Acrisius, the seclusion of Danae and the golden-rain motif. In line 7 two words can be clearly read: αὐτὴν βάλλει, and line 8 only the first word is legible: θάλασσαν. In sum, in lines 4–8 we move from Perseus’ birth to the larnax motif. (The following lines are virtually illegible). As we can see, the version conveyed by the papyrus is very short, and it probably omits crucial information. If such was the version available to the D-scholiast, it is not surprising if he copied most of the story from the Bibliotheca in order to enhance the text. Therefore, hypothesis 2 seems to be based on more solid ground. Furthermore, although this case is unique as far as the extant papyri are concerned, it shows the fact that the D-scholiast very likely used Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca to provide a better text than the version of the MH that had come down to him.37 In sum, although there is no doubt that the MH and Apollodorus the mythographer shared some sources, the interpolations from the Bibliotheca in the ­D-Scholia and the scanty evidence from papyri do not allow us to draw any solid conclusions regarding the relation of intertextuality between the MH and Apollodorus. There is no proof that Apollodorus consulted the MH nor the other way round. Nevertheless, the reading of the whole set of historiae fabulares in the ­D-Scholia suggest a common literary ground for both, the MH (read in the ­D-Scholia and the papyri) and the Bibliotheca. Both works share some features

36 POxy. 3003, col. 2, lines 2–13 Parsons. 37 Cf. Fowler 2013, 382, case 12.

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that stretch far beyond mere intertextuality based on random coincidences of literalness, and are closely linked in terms of their formal style, as well as their aims and contents. On a mere formal basis, they show some similarities. First and foremost, both texts seem to lack any feature of personal style and authorship. They seem to be following some formal patterns of narrative, which could be called mythographical formulae. They use the different ways of summarising the text of their sources somehow mechanically by means of recurrent parameters of abridgement. Let us list some of these features. The use of participles allows the writer to avoid long subordinate clauses. Consequently, participles are used widely, which makes clauses shorter. Subjunctive and optative verbal tenses are rarely used, particularly the latter. Thereby, syntax and grammar become simpler.38 The use of participles is excessive, as it affords the text a repetitive and artificially shortened form, straying from what one might expect from a classical writer. Furthermore, the use of the participle in the genitive absolute is obsessive. All those features are common to late mytho­ graphy altogether, and very close to the hypotheseis of epics, tragedy and comedy preserved in many MSS.39 The MH and the Bibliotheca are undoubtedly handbooks of mythography written in a very specific social and cultural context. They are two parallel examples of early imperial Greek mythography. They can be considered proof of intensive publishing activity undertaken by teams of librarian writers. This book production was destined to satisfy the demand of readers in a period when reading had become an everyday activity and access to a certain degree of literary culture enabled middle-class citizens to exhibit their literacy in social gatherings and events.40 Handbooks, companions and scholia related to major literary works are a significant part of the huge amount of papyri found in several sites in Egypt.41 This is evidence of extensive literacy and a sort of “second-rate” literary culture, different from the great erudition of the elite. The Greek and Hellenised population in Egypt renewed their interest in ancient mythical traditions as a reaction against Roman influence from 30 BCE. Thus, in early imperial times, what could be called “popular erudition” heightened the demand for handbooks of mythography. The MH and Apollodorus could have belonged to those libraries’ personnel.

38 Cf. Van Rossum-Steenbeek 1998, 88–92. 39 Van Rossum-Steenbeek 1998, 1–47; Zuntz 1963, 129–152. 40 Cameron 2004, 217–238. 41 Van Rossum-Steenbeek 1998, xiii-xix; Cameron 2004, 52–69.

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In fact, the demand for this kind of books, especially in the Eastern part of the Roman Empire, where there was a longstanding tradition of copying, commenting on and summarising the classics,42 called for the intense and continuous work of these teams of writers. They were responsible for writing all these summaries and compendia of ancient major works, as well as new handbooks upon request, with different approaches to Greek myth: genealogies, metamorphoses, catasterisms, love stories, and the like.43 They adapted old texts to the needs of the contemporary public.44 Indeed, traces of genuine texts by the early mythographers are hardly recognisable, neither on papyrus nor in quotations from other authors. The examples of mythographical prose that can be read in the extant fragments are not precisely what we could consider classical prose. They rather seem useful and helpful books written in modern koiné. The originals were probably summarised from the 3rd century BCE onwards, and those abridged versions seem to have led to the loss of the originals. Consequently, all the remains appear to be a part of those summaries. There are a few remains from early mythographers on papyrus.45 Their texts present abridged wording very similar to that of the fragments preserved by manuscript transmission. Thus, early imperial mythography appear to be the outcome of a second process of rewriting, summarising or simply copying excerpta from former compendia. Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca is the most outstanding example of early imperial mythography, and it has been a useful handbook of mythology since it was issued. The text that has come down to us is likely very close to the archetype. In contrast, the MH underwent a long process of rewriting and restructuring, and it was spread in different versions ranging from a quite stable text which can be still read in most D-Scholia to shortened versions such as those that can be partially read on some papyri.

Bibliography Cameron, Alan. Greek Mythography in the Roman World (Oxford: Oxford University Press 2004). Cavallo, Guglielmo. Discorsi sul libro, in: Lo spazio letterario della Grecia Antica I: La produzione e la circulazione del testo, edited by Giuseppe Cambiano, Luciano Canfora & D. Lanza (Roma: Salerno Editrice, 1994), 613–647. Clarysse, Willy. Literary Papyri in Documentary “Archives”. Studia Hellenistica 27 (1983), 43–61.

42 Jacob 1992, 105–107; Dupont 2009, 145–146. 43 Cameron 2004, 52–62. 44 Van der Valk 1958, 123. 45 For example POxy. 1084 Hunt (= Hellanic. fr. 19b Fowler, beginning of the 2nd century CE).

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Cuartero, Francesc J. Pseudo-Apol·lodor. Biblioteca. Vol. 2 (Barcelona: Fundació Bernat Metge, 2012). De Marco, Vittorio. Sulla tradizione manoscritta degli ‘Scholia Minora’ all’Iliade, Atti della Reale Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei 1931, serie sesta, vol. IV (Rome: 1932), 373–407. Dickey, Eleanor. Ancient Greek Scholarship (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). Diller, Aubrey. The text history of the Bibliotheca of Pseudo-Apollodorus. TAPA 66 (1935), 296–313. Dindorf, Wilhelm (ed.). Scholia Graeca in Homeri Odysseam ex codicibus aucta et emendata. Vol. I-II. (Oxford: Clarendon Press 1855). Dupont, Florence (2009). The Corrupted Boy and the Crowned Poet or, The Material Reality and the Symbolic Status of the Literary Book at Rome, in: Ancient Literacies. The Culture of Reading in Greece and Rome, edited by William A. Johnson & Holt N. Parker (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 143–163. Fowler, Robert L. Early Greek Mythography. Volume I: Texts and Introduction (Oxford: University Press, 2000). Fowler, Robert L. Early Greek Mythography. Volume II: Commentary (Oxford: University Press, 2013). Gärtner, Thomas. Zum Geschick der Pleiade Elektra im sogenannten Mythographus Homericus (P. Ox. 4096) und bei Quintus von Smyrna. ZPE 124 (1999), 22–24. Grenfell, Bernard P. & Hunt, Arthur S. (ed.). The Oxyrhynchus Papyri 3 (London: Egypt Exploration Fund, 1903), 63–65. Haslam, Michael. A New Papyrus of the Mythographus Homericus. BASP 27 (1990), 31–36. Haslam, Michael. On P. Oxy. LXI 4096, Mythographus Homericus”. ZPE 110 (1996), 115–117. Henrichs, Albert. Three Approaches to Greek Mythography, in: Interpretations of Greek Mythology, edited by Jan Bremmer (London: Routledge, 1987), 242–277. Higbie, Carolyn. Hellenistic Mythographers, in: The Cambridge Companion to Greek Mythology, edited by Roger D. Woodard (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 237–254. Houston, George W. Papyrological Evidence for Book Collections and Libraries in the Roman Empire, in: Ancient Literacies. The Culture of Reading in Greece and Rome, edited by William A. Johnson & Holt N. Parker (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 233–267. Jacob, Christian. Callimaque: un poète dans le labyrinthe, in: Alexandrie, IIIe siècle av. J. -C: tous les savoirs du monde ou le rêve d’universalité des Ptolémées, edited by Christian Jacob & François de Polignac (Paris: Éditions Autrement, 1992), 100–112. Johnson, William A. The Literary Papyrus Roll: Formats and Conventions. An Analysis of the Evidence from Oxyrhynchus (Diss. Yale University, 1992). Lünstedt, Peter. Untersuchungen zu den mythologischen Abschnitten der D-Scholien (Diss. Hamburg, 1961). Luppe, Wolfgang. Zum Tennes-Mythos im Mythographus Homericus, P. Hamb. 119. ZPE 56 (1984), 31–32. Luppe, Wolfgang. Helenos’ und Kassandras ‘Berufung’, Arch. Pap. 39 (1993), 9–11. Luppe, Wolfgang. Die Ikarios-Sage im Mythographus Homericus. ZPE 112 (1996a), 29–33. Luppe, Wolfgang. Ein neues Fragment des Mythographus Homericus zu Ψ 91.92. Prometheus 22 (1996b), 97–100. Luppe, Wolfgang. Mythographus Homericus P. Oxy. 4096 fr. 10. ZPE 112 (1996c), 25–28. Luppe, Wolfgang. Neileus’ ἀποικία nach Milet: Mythographus Homericus P. Oxy. 4096 fr. 3. Eikasmos 7 (1996d), 207–210. Luppe, Wolfgang. Ein Zeugnis für die Niobe-Sage in P. Oxy. 4096. WJA 21 (1996–97), 153–159.

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Luppe, Wolfgang. Die Psamathe- und die Plejaden-Sage im Mythographus Homericus P. Oxy. LXI 4096 fr. 1 und fr. 2 Kol. II. Arch. Pap. 43 (1997a), 1–6. Luppe, Wolfgang. Nachlese und Überlegungen zum Mythographus-Homericus-Codex P.S.I. 1173, ZPE 116 (1997b), 13–18. Luppe, Wolfgang. Zum Neuen Mythographus-Homericus Papyrus (PSI 1505). Prometheus 35/3 (2009), 219–220. Merkelbach, Reinhold. Literarische Texte unter Ausschluß der christlichen: P. Schubart 21. Arch. Pap. 16 (1956), 117–119. Montanari, Franco. Studi di filologia omerica antica (Pisa: Biblioteca di Studi Antichi 19, 1979). Montanari, Franco. Filologia omerica antica nei papiri, in: Proceedings of the XVIII Congress of Papyrology, Athens, 25–31 May 1986 vol. II, edited by Vasileios G. Mandelaras (Athens: Greek Papyrological Society, 1988), 337–344. Montanari, Franco. L’erudizione, la filologia e la grammatica, in: Lo spazio letterario della Grecia Antica I: La produzione e la circulazione del testo, edited by Giuseppe Cambiano, Luciano Canfora & Diego Lanza (Roma: Salerno Editrice, 1993), 235–281. Montanari, Franco. Note sulla tradizione manoscritta degli Scholia D in Iliadem. Un caso di errore da archetipo, in: Storia, Poesia e Pensiero nel mondo antico. Studi in onore di Marcello Gigante, edited by F. del Franco, Vol. II (Naples: Bibliopolis, 1994), 475–481. Montanari, Franco. The Mythographus Homericus, in: Greek literary theory after Aristotle: a collection of papers in honour of D. M. Schenkeveld, edited by J.G.J. Abbenes, S. R. Slings, I. Sluiter (Amsterdam: VU University Press, 1995), 135–172. Panzer, Iohannes. De Mythographo Homerico restituendo (Diss. Greifswald, 1892). Parsons, Peter J. (ed.). The Oxyrhynchus papyri 42 (London: Egypt Exploration Society, 1974), 15–19. Pfeiffer, Rudolf. Hesiodisches und Homerisches: zu neuen und alten Papyri. Philologus 92 (1937), 1–18. Pontani, Filippomaria. Sguardi su Ulisse. La tradizione essegetica greca all’Odissea (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2005). Pontani, Filippomaria (ed.). Scholia Graeca in Odysseam I (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2007). Pontani, Filippomaria (ed.). Scholia Graeca in Odysseam II (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2010). Pontani, Filippomaria (ed.). Scholia Graeca in Odysseam III (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2015). Pordomingo, Francisca. Los libros más antiguos de la antigüedad: el testimonio de los papiros, in: La escritura y el Libro en la Antigüedad, edited by J. Bartolomé, M. C. González & M. Quijada (Madrid; Ediciones Clásicas, 2004), 311–336. PSI: Papiri Greci e Latini X. (Florence: Pubblicazioni della Società Italiana dei Papiri greci e romani in Egitto, 1932). Papyrus n. 1173 ed. Goffredo Coppola, 131–140. Schubert, Paul. (ed.). The Oxyrhynchus Papyri 61 (London: Egypt Exploration Society, 1995), 15–46. Schwartz, Edward. De scholiis Homericis ad historiam fabularem pertinentibus. NJPhP Supl. 12 (1881), 405–463. Van der Valk, Martinus. On Apollodori Bibliotheca. Rev. Ét. Grec. 71 (1958), 100–168. Van der Valk, Martinus. Researches on the text and scholia of the Iliad, vol. II (Leiden: Brill, 1964).

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Van Rossum-Steenbeek, Monique. More on P. Oxy. LXI 4096, Mythographus Homericus. ZPE 112 (1996a), 34–36. Van Rossum-Steenbeek, Monique. More on P. Oxy. LXI 4096, Mythographus Homericus. ZPE 113 (1996b), 24–26. Van Rossum-Steenbeek, Monique. Greek Readers’ Digests? Studies on a selection of subliterary papyri (Leiden-New York-Köln: Brill, 1998). van Thiel, Helmut. Scholia D in Iliadem. Proecdosis aucta et correctior secundum codices manu scriptos (Köln: Elektronische Schriftenreihe der Universitäts- und Stadtbibliothek Bd. 7, 2014). Zuntz, Gunther. The Political Plays of Euripides (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1963 [1955]).

Lowell Edmunds

6 Helen in Pseudo-Apollodorus Book 3 Apollodorus tells different parts of the story of Helen in different places. His genealogical exposition causes him to introduce her, as the daughter of Tyndareus, when he comes to the Atlantids (3.10.1-12.6 [110–160]). Here he tells of her birth, her abduction by Theseus, her recovery by the Dioscuri, her suitors, the oath of the suitors, and the birth of her child or children. This is the passage to be discussed here. Helen’s abduction by Paris appears only later in the genealogy of the Atlantids and in passing. It seems that Apollodorus treated the Trojan War and the returns of the heroes separately from the genealogies. So the summary by Photius suggests.1 In fact, the Trojan War, beginning with a fuller account of Helen’s abduction, is part of the Epitome (3.1–6). The Epitome includes several other references to Helen, one of which is referred to below. The passage in which Apollodorus introduces Helen consists of only a few sentences. It is 234 words-long, not counting the list of the suitors. In these sentences, Apollodorus has more than one source for each mythographical datum. From his sources he constructs very brief narratives for each of the episodes in Helen’s life. The Quellenforschung to be undertaken here does not seek to add anything to what is known about Apollodorus’ sources but is directed to the relation of these sources to the narratives that he constructs.2 In discussion of this narrative the distinction made by Gérard Genette between narrative discourse (récit) and narrating (narra­ tion), the act of producing the narrative, will be useful.3 His narratology has become standard in some areas of Classics. (In Homeric studies, it is the basis of the commentary of Irene de Jong on the Odyssey, and it has been accepted in the new Basel commentary on the Iliad.)4 Unfortunately, the terminology of Genette does not cover all the phenomena in Apollodorus to be discussed. I have had to invent some terms of my own, to be introduced in due course. In conclusion some inferences concerning Apollodorus’ expected readership and the purpose of the Bibliotheca will be drawn.

1 Summary quoted and translated by Diller 1935, 300. 2 Much is known about the sources of Apollodorus. Discussion at Cuartero 2010, 27–41. 3 Genette 1980; Genette 1988. (For the second of these aspects of narrative, one could also say, as Genette does many times, énonciation, a term that he borrows from Benveniste.) 4 de Jong 2001; and cf. de Jong 2014. Basel commentary: Nünlist and de Jong 2000 (note citations of Genette). Lowell Edmunds, Rutgers University DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-006



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Apollodorus begins his account of Helen’s birth thus: (I)5 Διὸς δὲ Λήδᾳ συνελθόντος ὁμοιωθέντος κύκνῳ, καὶ κατὰ τὴν αὐτὴν νύκτα Τυνδάρεω, Διὸς μὲν ἐγεννήθη Πολυδεύκης καὶ Ἑλένη, Τυνδάρεω δὲ Κάστωρ 3.10.7 [126] ἐγεννήθησαν Commelinus (1599): ἐγένετο Hercher (1874): add. Thomas Gale (1675) rec. Wagner Frazer: addub. Papathomopoulos Carrière-Massonie

Except for Helen as the daughter of Zeus, everything in this passage is problematical.6 Zeus as swan uniting with Leda appears first in Euripides’ Helen (412 BCE).7 The story appears then in Isocrates’ Helen and later in Philodemus.8 It also appears in the scholium to Od. 11.298. This story seems to be posterior to, and indeed to be modeled on, the story of Zeus as swan in his union with Nemesis, a story first attested in Cratinus and one that Apollodorus will tell in the next sentence. To concentrate on the sentence that has just been quoted: if Zeus as swan unites with Leda, then the result might be an egg, as in Euripides. But Apollodorus does not mention an egg in connection with Leda. It is possible that he simply did not know the story, although he appears to have known the content of the tragedies of Euripides through an intermediate text.9 But other reasons for his silence can be suggested. First, his silence could be explained by the fact that he will soon report the alternate version of Helen’s birth, in which she is the daughter of Nemesis, born from an egg laid by Nemesis. Apollodorus does not want to complicate his exposition with two conflicting versions of the motherhood of the egg. Second, his silence about the egg makes possible the story of double fatherhood. He says that on the same night Polydeuces and Helen were begotten by Zeus, Castor by Tyndareus.10 If there was an egg, a single egg, from which Helen and the Dioscuri 5 These Roman numerals in bold type indicate my segmentation of the passage on Helen. 6 Daughter of Zeus also in Hes. Cat. fr. 24 M-W = fr. 21 M but the mother is an unnamed “daughter of Ocean”. 7 Eur. Hel. 17–21, cf. 214–16, 256–59, 1144–46. Cf. lines 793–800 in the later IA. 8 For Isocrates, see n. 14 below. For the papyrus fragment of Philodemus see Table 4. 9 Cuartero 2010, 38. On the other hand, Rossum-Steenbeek 1998, 26: “A comparison of the hypp. [to Euripides] transmitted on papyrus with Apd. shows that they often deal with the same subjects but that large similarities do not occur”. Huys (1996 and 1997) has made the same point concerning the Euripides hypotheses and Hyg. Fab.: where these two sources are dealing with the same subjects there is very little correspondence. 10 Earlier, in a list of those who participated in the Calydonian boar hunt, Apollodorus has referred to Castor and Pollux as “sons of Zeus and Leda,” omitting Tyndareus (1.8.2 [67]). Strictly speaking, this parentage contradicts the one given in 3.10.7 [126], but Apollodorus might have sacrificed consistency for the sake of the concision that was required by the list.

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were all hatched, then the division of paternity between Zeus and Tyndareus might not have been reflected in the division of nature, semi-divine and human, between Polydeuces and Helen, on the one hand, and Castor, on the other.11 Apollodorus would have had an authoritative source or sources for the division of paternity. It is attested already in Pindar Nem. 10.80–82. (This simple symmetry, one of the Dioscuri from Zeus, one from Tyndareus, appears in the schol. to Od. 11.299.) Helen is not mentioned by Pindar in this passage, but the scholiast to Nem. 10 adds a version of the myth in which Polydeuces and Helen are born from Zeus and Leda, Castor from Tyndareus (sc. and Leda).12 Clytemnestra is not mentioned. The scholiast’s version corresponds exactly to what we find in Apollodorus, where Clytemnestra is only a conjecture.13 But the most peculiar thing in Apollodorus’ account of the birth of Helen and her brothers is the story that both Zeus and Tyndareus had intercourse with Leda on the same night. Zeus, let us remember, was in the form of a swan, and so Leda had intercourse both with a swan and with her husband on the same night (κατὰ τὴν αὐτὴν νύκτα). Leda’s pregnancy is a case of what is called “heteropaternal superfecundation”. This term refers to twins who each have a different father but are born from the same mother. It is biologically possible, and has happened, as DNA analysis has confirmed. This fact was unknown to Apollodorus, we can assume. His story could

11 If Leda produced a single egg, then the three children whom Apollodorus mentions, two of them demigods, one human, would have to have come from the same egg. A simple solution would have been two eggs, but it is a solution not attested until the time of the First Vatican Mythographer, in whom we first find both the symmetrical pattern of off-spring and birth from eggs: Item [Jupiter] concubuit cum Leda uxore Tindari in specie cigni, inde duo ova nata sunt ex quorum altero Castor et Pollux, ex alio Clitimestra et Helena nate sunt (Myth. Vat. 1.204 Bode). 12 λέγεται γὰρ τοῦτο, ὅτι Πολυδεύκης καὶ Ἑλένη ἐκ Διός εἰσι καὶ Λήδας, Κάστωρ δὲ ἐκ Τυνδάρεω. Cf. Cypria fr. 8 Bernabé = fr. 6 Davies: Castor mortal, Polydeuces immortal but nothing on how they were begotten; Cypria fr. 8 Davies (from Philodemus): Castor mortal; Polydeuces immortal; Hom. Od. 11.299: Polynices the son of Zeus, Castor of Tyndareus. As for “heteropaternal superfecundation” (see below in the text of this article) one might argue that it is in implied in Zeus’ words to Polydeuces in Nem. 10.80–82: “Ἐσσί μοι υἱός· τόνδε δ’ ἔπειτα πόσις / σπέρμα θνατὸν ματρὶ τεᾷ πελάσαις / στάξεν ἥρως …”. “You (Polydeuces) are my son. Afterwards (ἔπειτα), this one (Castor), mortal seed, her hero husband (Tyndareus) dropped in your mother (Leda)”. 13 The scholiast’s pattern corresponds also to Myth. Vat. 1.78 Bode; Myth. Vat. 2.132 Bode. The “complete” pattern of symmetry achieved in the text of Apollodorus by the conjecture of Clytemnestra is found in Hyg. Fab. 80: ... ideo quod diceret Iovis Castorem semine Tyndarei et Clytaem­ nestram natos, ipsum autem et Helenam Iovis esse filios, tunc deprecatus Pollux, ut liceret ei munus suum cum fratre communicare... “Because (Jupiter said) Castor and Clytemnestra were born from the seed of Tyndareus, Pollux himself however and Helen were the children of Jupiter, Pollux begged that it be permitted to him to share his gift with his brother”.



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have been modeled on the impregnation of Alcmene by Zeus and by Amphitryon on the same night, which led to the births of Heracles and his brother Iphicles. The scholiast on Pindar Nem. 10, already cited, having commented on the division of the parentage of Polydeuces and Castor between Zeus and Tyndareus, adds: ὡς καὶ Ἡρακλῆς μὲν ἐξ Ἀλκμήνης καὶ Διός, Ἰφικλῆς δὲ ἐξ Ἀμφιτρύωνος “as also Heracles is the son of Alcmena and Zeus, Iphicles the son of Amphitryon (sc. and Alcmena)”.14 Whether or not Apollodorus was using this particular scholium, is impossible to say. Perhaps the model of the superfecundation of Alcmene occurred to him spontaneously. In any case, he produces a narrative that neatly combines the received mythographical data concerning the different natures of Leda’s offspring. Apollodorus is the first of whom we know to make this combination. The narrative tendency seen here, toward concise narrative combination, will be seen again. I call this tendency munditia fabulae.15 Apollodorus continues (II) λέγουσι δὲ ἔνιοι Νεμέσεως Ἑλένην εἶναι καὶ Διός. ταύτην γὰρ τὴν Διὸς φεύγουσαν συνουσίαν εἰς χῆνα τὴν μορφὴν μεταβαλεῖν, ὁμοιωθέντα δὲ καὶ Δία τῷ κύκνῳ συνελθεῖν· τὴν δὲ ᾠὸν ἐκ τῆς συνουσίας ἀποτεκεῖν 3.10.7 [127] τῷ Bibliothecae codicum sive omnium sive plurimorum consensus Sabbaiticus 366: del. Heyne (1803) rec. Wagner Some say that Helen is the daughter of Nemesis and Zeus. For Nemesis, fleeing union with Zeus, changed her form into a goose, and Zeus, taking the likeness of a swan, united with her. She bore an egg from the union.

As said, Cratinus may be the ultimate source for Zeus as swan.16 Apollodorus is the unique source for Nemesis as goose (χήν), as the following table shows. 14 The scholiast may have found a suggestion in Isocrates, Hel. 59: Ἀμφιτρύωνι μὲν γὰρ εἰκασθεὶς ὡς Ἀλκμήνην ἦλθεν, χρυσὸς δὲ ῥυεὶς Δανάῃ συνεγένετο, κύκνος δὲ γενόμενος εἰς τοὺς Νεμέσεως κόλπους κατέφυγεν, τούτῳ δὲ πάλιν ὁμοιωθεὶς Λήδαν ἐνύμφευσεν. 15 An objection to my explanation might be that in Apollodorus’ own account of the begetting of Heracles and Iphicles, the impregnation of Alcmene takes place on successive nights and (2.4.8 [61]). But it would still be a matter of superfecundation, and when Apollodorus says “Alcmene bore two sons,” he is apparently talking about twins (as implied also by Pherecydes, FGrH 3F69a-b = Fowler 69a-b). 16 Cratinus Nemesis epit. ii K-A (PCG 4.179) = Eratosth. Cat. 25 + Vatican fr. of Eratosth. Pàmias (cf. Rehm 1899: 9 [fr. XXV]) + Germanicus (9th c. CE, treatise based on Aratus) (Breysig 1867, 84.19). Eratosthenes tells the story, citing Cratinus, but without the shepherd and the saving of the egg in a λάρναξ. For an introduction to and translation of testimonia to and fragments of this comedy see Henderson in Rusten 2011, 189–93; for a study of its mythological background: Henderson 2012. As Carrière-Massonie (1991, 236) point out, the myth was not in itself comic: on the base of the statue of Nemesis at Rhamnous a relief showed the presentation of Helen by Leda to Nemesis (Paus. 1.33.7-8).

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Table 4: Zeus’ union with Nemesis Source

Form of Zeus

Form of Nemesis

Egg

Cypria fr. 9 Bernabé = fr. 7 Davies = fr. 10 West Philodemus De pietate B 7369 Obbink = Cypria fr. 10 Bernabé = fr. 8 Davies = fr. 11 West Crat. Nem. epit. ii K-A = Eratosth. Cat. 25 Pàmias  +  Vatican fr. of Eratosth.  +Germanicus. Cf. Crat. Nem. frs. 114, 115, 120, 121.

unspecified χήν gander (masc.) κύκνος swan

unspecified unspecified

ø √ √

Isoc. Hel. 59

κύκνος swan

schol. Callim. Hymn. 3.232

?

Apollod. Bibl. 3.10.7 Hyg. Poet. astr. 2.8

κύκνος swan olor swan

Anthropomorph? τὴν Νέμεσιν φθεῖραι (Eratosth.), ἔφθειρεν (Vat. fr.), compressisse (Germanicus) Anthropomorph. εἰς τοὺς Νεμέσεως κόλπους Anthropomorph? Ῥαμνοῦς δῆμος Ἀττικῆς, ἔνθα τῇ Νεμέσει ὁ Ζεὺς συνεκαθεύδησεν χήν goose (fem.) Anthropomorph. … ad Nemesin confugit et in eius gremio se collocavit. … Nemesis autem, ut quae auium generi esset iuncta, … (i. e., not a bird)

ø √

√ √

In this table, it is only in the Cypria that a goose or rather a gander appears in the story of the mating of Nemesis and Zeus, and in this story Zeus is the gander.17 Apollodorus gives us Nemesis as goose and Zeus as swan. Scholars have objected to the asymmetry of the union of goose and swan, and the sentence has been simplified by emendation to remove the swan.18 The main linguistic objections to the received text are the καί and the τῷ. But both are easily explained.19 17 Fr. 10 B = fr. 8 D = fr. 11 West (Loeb), from Philodemus De pietate B 7369 Obbink. Parlato (2010, 292–295) argues that the subject of τέκε in fr. 9.1 is Nemesis and that she is the mother of Castor and Pollux as well as of Helen (!). Cf. Castor gaudet equis, ovo prognatus eodem / pugnis (Hor. Sat. 2.1.26-27). Dunbar (1995, 443) speaks of the egg from which Helen was born as a precedent for the wind-egg from which Eros was born (according to the self-interested theogony of the bird chorus in Ar. Av. 694–696) but the circumstances are fundamentally different. Cf. Romani 2004, 128. 18 Notably by Luppe 1974. 19 The definite article can be defended as anaphoric. It refers to an object “already mentioned or on the mind of the speaker” (Smyth 1120b). καί is adverbial: LSJ9 s.u. B.2. Here Nemesis changes her shape and Zeus “also” changes into the swan form in which, Apollodorus just said, he visited Leda.



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The simplest explanation for what we read in Apollodorus is that he has simply misremembered his source. The fact that the word χήν is common gender in Greek might have prompted the mistake. But in the first of the sentences concerning Helen inventiveness on the part of Apollodorus could already be suspected. The result in that sentence was a concise narrative combination of received mythographical data. In the case of Nemesis as goose, it is possible that Apollodorus is adapting the version of the Cypria (Zeus as gander) for the sake of the same narrative strategy. If, as in Apollodorus’ version, Nemesis becomes a goose and if Zeus remains a swan, this new combination of received data results in the mating of two birds instead of the mating of a theriomorphic Zeus with an anthropomorphic Nemesis. In this way, Apollodorus’ in effect over-determines the result of the mating, namely, the egg. We have another concise narrative combination of the received mythographical data, a second example of munditia fabulae. Apollodorus continues (III) τοῦτο δὲ ἐν τοῖς ἄλσεσιν εὑρόντα τινὰ ποιμένα Λήδᾳ κομίσαντα δοῦναι, τὴν δὲ κατ αθεμένην εἰς λάρνακα φυλάσσειν, καὶ χρόνῳ καθήκοντι γεννηθεῖσαν Ἑλένην ὡς ἐξ αὑτῆς θυγατέρα τρέφειν. 3.10.7 [127] ἅλσεσιν Sabbaiticus 366: ἕλεσιν Preller: δάσεσιν Bekker (1854) (Some say) that a shepherd, having found this in a swamp, brought it to Leda and gave it to her; that she put it in a chest and watched over it and that after the appropriate time Helen was born, whom she raised as a daughter born from her.

If Nemesis bears the egg and Leda causes it to hatch, the egg must be somehow transferred to Leda. The simplest version of the transfer is found in Sappho fr. 166 V: Leda simply finds the egg.20 In the Astronomica of Hyginus, Hermes takes the egg to Sparta and throws it in the lap of Leda.21 A third version is found in the scholium on Lycophron Alexandra 89: Nemesis gives the egg to Tyndareus and Tyndareus gives it to Leda.22 Apollodorus’ version is the most elaborate on record. The shepherd as agent of the transfer appears for the first time here (the shepherd found the egg “in a

20 Cf. schol. Callim. Hymn. 3.232: Ῥαμνοῦς δῆμος Ἀττικῆς, ἔνθα τῇ Νεμέσει ὁ Ζεὺς συνεκαθεύδησεν, ἥτις ἔτεκεν ᾠόν, ὅπερ εὑροῦσα ἡ Λήδα ἐθέρμανε καὶ ἐξέβαλε τοὺς Διοσκ ούρους καὶ τὴν Ἑλένην. 21 Hyg. Poet. astr. 2.8: Nemesis …, ut quae auium generi esset iuncta, mensibus actis, ouum procre­ avit. Quod Mercurius auferens detulit Spartam et Ledae sedenti in gremium proiecit... 22 λέγει δὲ τῷ ᾠῷ, ὅπερ ἡ Νέμεσις τῷ Τυνδάρεῳ δίδωσιν, ὁ δὲ τῇ Λήδᾳ.

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grove – thus I translate ἐν τοῖς ἄλσεσιν –23 and took it to Leda). Again the question of Apollodorus as narrator arises. For only one detail of the fortune of the egg in Apollodorus can a precedent be found: εἰς λάρνακα (“in a chest”) appears in a summary of the story of Helen’s birth in the scholiast to Od. 11.298, where Odysseus in the underworld says that he saw Leda (καὶ Λήδην εἶδον τὴν Τυνδάρεως παράκοιτιν), but this scholiast follows the version of the story in which it is Leda who gives birth to the egg.24 As for the other details, viz., the grove, the shepherd’s discovery of the egg, and his transfer of the egg to Leda, this story concerning the birth of Helen is, to repeat, found only in Apollodorus. But, as in the case of the superfecundation of Leda in the first of the sentences discussed above, a model for the discovery and transfer of the egg is easy to find. It is the story of the exposure of the royal child in a desolate place. A shepherd discovers the child and takes it to foster-parents.25 Oedipus is the most famous example. Gerhard Binder in a monograph on this type of story collected over one hundred examples from antiquity.26 In Apollodorus, the egg replaces the child. Otherwise the story is the same. Once again, then, Apollodorus has combined data concerning Helen (the egg is transferred from Nemesis to Leda) into a narrative that he has adapted from another myth or myths. It is a full narrative in brief compass – a shepherd finds the egg, he finds it in a swamp, for some reason27 he takes it to Leda, she puts it in a chest. It is the same narrative strategy as in the first two sentences. 23 ἐν τοῖς ἄλσεσιν seems to be an established phrase for “in the woods” or “in a grove”. The definite article is “generic” (Smyth 1122, although his examples do not correspond exactly to ἐν τοῖς ἄλσεσιν, and I have not been able to find anything relevant in Schwyzer or K-G). A Diogenes search for this phrase yields eleven hits: Pl. Leg. 625c1; Strabo twice; Josephus once; Christian authors. See Frazer’s n. (Loeb, p. 24, n. 1) for the emendation to ἑλεσιν, which is based on schol. Lycoph. 88. One could add Ptolemy Chennus Nova hist. 4.12 Chatzis, from Phot. Bibl. cod. 190.149b5: Ἑλένην δὲ ἀπὸ τοῦ ἐν ἕλει ὑπὸ Λήδας τεχθῆναι. 24 Ζεὺς Λήδας ἐρασθεὶς τῆς Θεστίου παιδὸς εἰς κύκνον ἑαυτὸν μετέβαλε καὶ διαπτὰς ἐμίγη αὐτῇ. μετὰ χρόνον δὲ ἐκείνη τεκοῦσα ὠὸν ἀποτίθεται εἰς λάρνακα, ὅθεν συνέβη τούς τε Διοσκ ούρους καὶ τὴν Ἑλένην γενέσθαι, γόνῳ μὲν Διὸς, ἐπίκλησιν δὲ Τυνδάρεω. ἡ δὲ ἱστορία παρὰ τοῖς νεωτέροις. “Zeus, enamored of Leda, the daughter of Thestius, changed himself into a swan and flew to her and had intercourse with her. After some time she bears an egg and puts it in a chest, whence it happened that the Dioscuri and Helen were born, in birth from Zeus, in name from Tyndareus. The story (ἱστορία) is found in the later poets (i. e., later than Homer)”. On the term νεώτεροι see Cuartero 2010, 17 and n. 23. 25 Apollodorus tells this story concerning Telephus, the son of Augē by Heracles. Telephus was exposed by Aleus, the father of Auge, and found by shepherds (2.7.4 [147]). 26 Binder 1964. 27 An example of “poverty of cause” in myth: cf. Hansen 2009.



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Again munditia fabulae. But it is not an innocent or uncomplicated strategy, as will be seen. Apollodorus continues (IV) γενομένην δὲ αὐτὴν κάλλει διαπρεπῆ Θησεὺς ἁρπάσας εἰς Ἀφίδνας ἐκόμισε. Πολυδεύκης δὲ καὶ Κάστωρ ἐπιστρατεύσαντες, ἐν Ἅιδου Θησέως ὄντος, αἱροῦσι τὴν πόλιν καὶ τὴν Ἑλένην λαμβάνουσι, καὶ τὴν Θησέως μητέρα Αἴθραν ἄγουσιν αἰχμάλωτον. 3.10.7 [128] Ἀφίδνας S, R manu prima Ἀθήνας R manu secunda Since she came to be conspicuous for her beauty Theseus abducted her and took her to Aphidna. Polydeuces and Castor while Theseus is in Hades, lead a campaign against and take the city and get Helen, and they take Aethra the mother of Theseus as a hostage.

Here we have the abduction of Helen by Theseus and her recovery by her brothers in thirty-three words. It is another terse report of the main facts in the mythographical tradition. But here munditia fabulae is achieved by omission. Apollodorus omits Peirithoüs and thus the explanation for Theseus in Hades.28 He also omits the age of Helen at the time of this abduction. In a somewhat fuller account in the Epitome, Apollodorus says that she was twelve-years old (Epit. 1.23). Her age was given by Hellanicus and Apollodorus would have found it in this author or in another of his sources.29 But the omission of Helen’s age in the sentence I am analyzing is not only for the sake of concision. It is also a way of avoiding an inconsistency in the narrative. If, as Apollodorus has told us, Helen and the Dioscuri were conceived on the same night, then they are the same age. If they are the same age, and if Helen was twelve years-old when she was abducted by Theseus, then the Dioscuri were twelve years-old when they rescued her. The omission of Helen’s age can be assumed to be deliberate on the part of Apollodorus and for the sake of concision. Apollodorus wants to produce a narrative in which the received data make easily comprehensible sense. In this place he achieves this effect by omitting one of the data, the age of Helen. Here, in the

28 In his account of the labors of Heracles Apollodorus refers to his rescue of Theseus from Hades and his inability to rescue Peirithous but without mention of Helen (2.5.12 [124]). 29 Helen as child: Schol. Lycoph. 513 = Hellanicus FGrH 323aF19 = Hellanicus fr. 168b Fowler. Helen was seven years-old when she was abducted by Theseus. Others give other ages: see FGrH Part 3b (Supplement) on 323aF18–19, with notes, which are in FGrH Part 3b (Supplement), vol. 2. According to Plutarch, who names Hellanicus as his source, they abducted Helen when she was dancing in the sanctuary of Artemis Orthia. The occasion is significant. In such a chorus, Helen would have been still a child. Plut. Thes. 31.1 = Hellanic. FGrH 323aF18 = Hellanic. fr. 168a Fowler. Cf. Calame 1997, 160.

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deliberate neglect of contradictory data, we see another narrative strategy, one that we will see again. I call this strategy incuria inconvenientium. Apollodorus continues (V) παρεγένοντο δὲ εἰς Σπάρτην ἐπὶ τὸν Ἑλένης γάμον οἱ βασιλεύοντες Ἑλλάδος. ἦσαν δὲ οἱ μνηστευόμενοι οἵδε· 3.10.8 [129] There arrived in Sparta for the marriage of Helen the kings of Greece. The suitors were the following.

There follows a catalogue of the suitors, thirty-one in all.30 It is one of several such lists in Apollodorus. These lists are inconsistent with the synoptic, propaideutic character of the Bibliotheca, as Francec Cuartero has said.31 But their occurrence can be motivated. They are one of the four categories of subliterary papyri which Monique van Rossum-Steenbeek has described as “a kind of readers’ digest containing noteworthy knowledge”.32 As a passage in Athenaeus shows, to be able to recite such lists or catalogues in learned company was an admirable accomplishment.33 We have, obviously, no way of knowing if Apollodorus expected that any of his readers would memorize his list of suitors, but we can at least say that his presentation of such a list flatters his readers. They might, he implies, wish to learn all these names or some of them. But another interpretation is possible. Cuartero says: “the presence of the lists in the Bibliotheca is, above all, a proof of the taste for the display of mythographical culture...”.34 On this interpretation, the list of suitors would be Apollodorus’ way of displaying his learning and thus establishing his authority in the mind of his audience. At this point, to invoke

30 In the fragments of the pseudo-Hesiodic Catalogue of Women there is a list of Helen’s suitors. Twelve names survive. Five of these names are not in Apollodorus. Another list of suitors can be found in the Fabulae of Hyginus, thirty-seven in all (81). Analysis of these lists of suitors (Hes.; Apollod.; Hyg.): Hirschberger 2004, 398–399. Hyginus omits four of the suitors found in pseudo-Hesiod. Clearly there were various lists in circulation in the time of Apollodorus, as in the case of the suitors of Penelope, listed by Apollodorus in the Epitome (7.26–30). 31 Cuartero 2010, 38. 32 Rossum-Steenbeek 1998, XIII. 33 Cameron 2004, 160–162 discusses the passage. In Book 13 of the Deipnosophists, Myrtilus gives a catalogue (he begins καταλέξω at 573b) of hetaerae, under various headings. At the end, while the others are amazed at his memory, the philosopher Cynulcus scorns him. What is the use of all these names, when you don’t know the names of the men who were enclosed in the Trojan Horse or the names of Odysseus’ companions and the ones who were devoured by the Cyclops, i. e., more important names (13.610b-d)? It is clear that the display of memory in itself is not what Cynulcus objects to. Indeed, at the Deipnosophists shows again and again encyclopedic knowledge was an expected accomplishment. 34 Cuartero 2010, 39.



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Genette’s distinction, we are talking not about narrative discourse but about the act of narration. The list is, in effect, outside the narrative. It is a gesture by the narrator toward his audience. One name in the list, the first one, that of Odysseus, will be of particular interest: Ὀδυσσεὺς Λαέρτου, Διομήδης Τυδέως, Ἀντίλοχος Νέστορος, Ἀγαπήνωρ Ἀγκαίου, Σθένελος Καπανέως, Ἀμφίμαχος Κτεάτου, Θάλπιος Εὐρύτου, Μέγης Φυλέως, Ἀμφίλοχος Ἀμφιαράου, Μενεσθεὺς Πετεώ, Σχεδίος Ἐπίστροφος , Πολύξενος Ἀγασθένους, Πηνέλεως , Λήιτος , Αἴας Ὀιλέως, Ἀσκάλαφος καὶ Ἰάλμενος Ἄρεος, Ἐλεφήνωρ Χαλκώδοντος, Εὔμηλος Ἀδμήτου, Πολυποίτης Πειρίθου, Λεοντεὺς Κορώνου, Πο δαλείριος καὶ Μαχάων Ἀσκληπιοῦ, Φιλοκτήτης Ποίαντος, Εὐρύπυλος Εὐαίμονος, Πρωτεσί­ λαος Ἰφίκλου, Μενέλαος Ἀτρέως, Αἴας καὶ Τεῦκρος Τελαμῶνος, Πάτροκλος Μενοιτίου.

After the list of the suitors Apollodorus continues with the oath of the suitors: (VI) τούτων ὁρῶν τὸ πλῆθος Τυνδάρεως ἐδεδοίκει μὴ κριθέντος ἑνὸς στασιάσωσιν οἱ λοιποί. ὑποσχομένου δὲ Ὀδυσσέως, ἐὰν συλλάβηται πρὸς τὸν Πηνελόπης αὐτῷ γάμον, ὑποθήσεσθαι τρόπον τινὰ δι’ οὗ μηδεμία γενήσεται στάσις, ὡς ὑπέσχετο αὐτῷ συλλήψεσθαι ὁ Τυνδάρεως, πάντας εἶπεν ἐξορκίσαι τοὺς μνηστῆρας βοηθήσειν, ἐὰν ὁ προκριθεὶς νυμφίος ὑπὸ ἄλλου τινὸς ἀδικῆται περὶ τὸν γάμον. ἀκούσας δὲ τοῦτο Τυνδάρεως τοὺς μνηστῆρας ἐξορκίζει, καὶ Μενέλαον μὲν αὐτὸς αἱρεῖται νυμφίον, Ὀδυσσεῖ δὲ παρὰ Ἰκαρίου μνηστεύεται Πηνελόπην. 3.10.9 [131–132] Seeing the great number of these (suitors) Tyndareus was in a state of fear lest, when one was chosen, the rest join together against him. Odysseus promising, if Tyndareus helped with his marriage with Penelope, that he would propose a way by which there would be no conflict, when Tyndareus promised to help, he said to cause all the suitors to swear an oath to come to the rescue if the chosen suitor was wronged by any other with respect to the marriage. Hearing this, Tyndareus had the suitors swear an oath, and he himself chose Menelaus as groom, and from Icarius he sought Penelope in marriage for Odysseus.

Amongst the accounts of the oath of the suitors, Apollodorus’ stands out. Homer does not have to be mentioned because the oath is referred to in neither the Iliad nor the Odyssey.35 In Hesiod and in Stesichorus, the oath originates with Tyndareus.36 So also apparently in Thucydides’ brief mention (1.9.1) and probably in Pausanias (3.20.9).37 In Euripides’ Iphigeneia at Aulis, Agamemnon recalls: Helen … it was who had for wooers the foremost of the favored sons of Hellas; but terrible threats of spilling his rival’s blood were uttered by each of them, should he fail to win the maid. Now the matter filled Tyndareus, her father, with perplexity; at length this thought

35 As schol. Il. 2.286–87 (οὐκ οἶδε δὲ τοὺς πρὸς τοὺς Τυνδαρίδας ὅρκους ὁ ποιητής) points out. 36 Hes. Cat. 204.40–47 M-W = 110.40–47 H = 155.40-47 M. Stesich. 190 Page/Davies from schol. A Hom. Il. 2.339; 1.103 Dindorf [= 1.257 Erbse]. 37 The schol. on Lycoph. 204 mentions the oath but not Tyndareus.

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occurred to him; the suitors should swear unto each other and join right hands thereon and pour libations with burnt-sacrifice, binding themselves by this curse: “Whoever wins the child of Tyndareus for wife, him will we assist, in case a rival takes her from his house and goes his way, robbing her husband of his rights; and we will march against that man in armed array and raze his city to the ground, Hellene no less than barbarian”.38

In Isocrates’ Helen, the oath comes from the common decision of all the suitors (40). Apollodorus’ version stands out, then, first of all because it is the unique source for Odysseus as the one who thinks of the oath. Further, Odysseus’ idea is offered on the condition that Tyndareus assist Odysseus in his wooing of Penelope. But if Odysseus was first in the list of Helen’s suitors, as he was (3.10.8 [129]), and if Tyndareus has not yet chosen amongst the suitors, as he has not, why is Odysseus now wooing Penelope? Apollodorus’ incuria inconvenientium is here quite striking because the inconvenientia are in Apollodorus’ own narrative. Perhaps Apollodorus knew from the Hesiodic Catalogue, or from some intermediate source, that Odysseus did not send gifts because he knew that Menelaus’ wealth would win.39 In other words, Odysseus was not a suitor for Helen. But does Apollodorus’ reader know? Can the reader be expected to have this information? The character of the Bibliotheca suggests a negative answer to this question. On the other hand, Apollodorus expects his reader to remember the fact, which has come out not long before the passage under discussion (3.10.4 [123]), that Icarius, the father of Penelope, is the brother of Tyndareus. The reader thus understands Odysseus’ reason for the bargain that he makes with Tyndareus. Apollodorus concludes his account of the oath with this sentence: ἀκούσας δὲ τοῦτο Τυνδάρεως τοὺς μνηστῆρας ἐξορκίζει, καὶ Μενέλαον μὲν αὐτὸς αἱρεῖται νυμφίον, Ὀδυσσεῖ δὲ παρὰ Ἰκαρίου μνηστεύεται Πηνελόπην. The first clause is anaphoric; the oath is the result of the bargain proposed by Odysseus. Then the story continues, in two phases, which are expressed paratactically in a μὲν – δὲ construction. Tyndareus chooses Menelaus; Tyndareus fulfills his part of the bargain with Odysseus. The μὲν – δὲ construction is here antithetical only to the extent of contrasting the outcomes of the bargain for Menelaus and Odysseus.40 As the result of the bargain, Tyndareus has the confidence to make a choice; Odysseus gets Tyndareus’ support. But the construction also has a purpose in the narrative: it foregrounds Menelaus, who will become the subject of the next sentence, as the focus of the narrative shifts to him.

38 Lines 51–65. Trans. by Coleridge 1907, 2.392–93. 39 Hes. Cat. 198.2-8 M-W: = 106.4-5 H = 154c.4–5 M. 40 As Denniston 1954, 370 says: “the strength of the antithesis varies within wide limits”.



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Tyndareus’ choice of Menelaus is presented simply, without reference to variants. In fact we know of two variants. In Euripides’ Iphigeneia at Aulis, Tyndareus gave Helen her choice (68–70). A passage in Aristotle’s Rhetoric also seems to be saying that Helen’s father gave her the choice of her suitors.41 Hyginus reports that she was to indicate the lucky one by placing a wreath on his head (Fab. 78).42 The other variant is found in the Hesiodic Catalogue, where the Dioscuri organized the wooing, and it is said that they would have chosen Agamemnon, if through his marriage with Clytemnestra he had not already been Tyndareus’ son-in-law.43 One can suggest that, if Apollodorus knew of these variants, as he probably did, he has omitted them for the sake, once again, of the narrative that he wants to construct. As I said apropos of IV above, incuria inconvenientium, as a deliberate strategy, is a way of achieving concision and, at the same time, preserving selfconsistency at least in the immediate context. The passage on Helen in Book 3 of the Bibliotheca ends with (VII) Μενέλαος μὲν οὖν ἐξ Ἑλένης Ἑρμιόνην ἐγέννησε καὶ κατά τινας Νικόστρατον, ἐκ δούλης †Πιερίδος, γένος Αἰτωλίδος,† ἢ καθάπερ Ἀκουσίλαός φησι Τηρηίδος, Μεγαπένθη, ἐκ Κνωσσίας δὲ νύμφης κατὰ Εὔμηλον Ξενόδαμον. 3.11.1 [133] δὲ suppl. Westermann: Πιερίδος γένος Αἰτωλίδος < ἢ> Αἰτωλίδος Heyne (1803) Πιερίδος, γένος Αἰτωλίδος damn. Fowler Menelaus begot Hermione from Helen and, according to some, Nicostratus, and from a slave woman, Pieris, an Aetolian by race – or, as Acusilaus says, from Tereïs – Megapenthes, and, according to Eumelus (Eumelus FGrH 451F7 = fr. 6 Fowler; cf. Acusilaus fr. 41 Fowler), Xenodamus from a nymph, Cnossia.

At this point Helen has ceased to be the focus of the narrative. When Menelaus becomes the successful suitor, he replaces Helen. One could say that the genealogical scheme (signaled by the verb γεννάω, which occurs 114 times) is reoriented to Menelaus. Helen’s child or children are reported as the off-spring of Menelaus,

41 Arist. Rh. 1401a36 (Polycrates, fr. 17 Sauppe): οἷον ὅτι δικαίως Ἀλέξανδρος ἔλαβε τὴν Ἑλένην. αἵρεσις γὰρ αὐτῇ ἐδόθη παρὰ τοῦ πατρός. οὐ γὰρ ἀεὶ ἴσως, ἀλλὰ τὸ πρῶτον. καὶ γὰρ ὁ πατὴρ μέχρι τούτου κύριος. The implication is that someone has defended Helen by arguing that her father allowed her to choose her suitor: she has as much right to choose Paris as she did to choose Menelaus. Aristotle says the father could only give her the first choice of suitor, after which Helen was out of his power and, presumably, under her husband’s. Sauppe attributes this passage to a speech, the Alexandros, of the orator Polycrates. 42 West 2007, 434: a “real svayaṃvara”. “Helen is the one bride in Greek myth who is said to have chosen her husband by putting a garland on him” (436). He gives examples of the procedure in the Indian epics and in other Indo-European traditions. 43 Hes. Cat. 197.3-5 M-W = 105.3-5 H = 154b.13–15 M.

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but only two of them are reported. I say “only” because, as Table 5 shows, there were also Maraphius, Pleisthenes, and Aetholias, all of them sons of Helen and Menelaus.44 If one assumes for the sake of argument that Apollodorus knew of one or more of these other sons, it is notable that he does not mention him or them. (One would not expect mention of a son by Paris at this point because, as I have already said, Apollodorus comes to the Trojan War only later, in what we know as the Epitome). Menelaus’ children by other women, however, are named. Furthermore, for the first time since the list of those raised from the dead by Asclepius (3.10.3 [121]), Apollodorus names sources.45 For Nicostratus as the son of Helen and Menelaus he does not name a source but uses the phrase κατά τινας.46 Here a question about Apollodorus’ use of sources in the Bibliotheca can be raised. Why does he cite sources when he cites them? Why does he cite sources obliquely with phrases like κατά τινας, ἔνιοι λέγουσι, and the like? In the passage under discussion, why does he use the oblique citation for Nicostratus and why does he name his sources for the sons of Menelaus by women other than Helen? If Apollodorus’ intention is, as it seems to be, to write a handbook of basic mythological information, one might have expected Helen to have more importance and the sources for Nicostratus to be named. One might have expected Xenodamus to be omitted. He is a mythological hapax and certainly does not belong to the basic education in Greek mythology which the Bibliotheca is ostensibly providing. As Cuartero has said, the Bibliotheca is “a work that, even if it is methodically organized in the sense of a succession of generations, sometimes presents the aspect of a motley complex of versions and variants... It is undoubtedly for this reason that the mention of sources is, for the interests of the author, secondary and that, in consequence, the relation of ‘Apollodorus’ with these sources, whether his access is direct or indirect, does not admit of a single answer”.47

44 Pleisthenes is a family name. In Hes. Cat. Atreus has a son Pleisthenes, who is the father of Agamemnon (fr. 194 M-W = 137a M; Apollod. Bibl. 3.2.2 [15]; cf. Fowler 2013, 439). (This fr. of Hes. Cat. not in Hirschenberger.) 45 The text of the sentence concerning Menelaus’ children by women other than Helen is more problematical than my brief apparatus indicates. See the apparatus of Fowler on Acusilaus fr. 41. Amongst other things, the scholiast on Od. 4.12 offers two variants of the name Τηρηίδος. But the names of the sources are not in doubt. 46 The unique instance of this phrase in the Bibliotheca. (He uses ἔνιοι λέγουσι / φασι or ὡς ἔνιοι twenty-six times. He uses ὡς τινες / τινες λέγουσιν / ὡς τινες εἶπον / τινες ἔφασαν / τινές φασι twenty-eight times.) 47 Cuartero 2010, 32. Mactoux 1989, 258: “Il y a entassement de versions diverses sans classement, juxtaposition d’énoncés secondaires par rapport à l’énoncé principal” (not apropos of this place but generalizing).



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An answer to the question concerning the passage under discussion might come from the inconsistency of Apollodorus’ citations with the intention of the  work. As for the inconsistency, to sum up, it is a matter of the occurrence of ­citations at this place, the manner of the citations, and the mythographical ­characters for whom named sources are given. To what end? One can suggest that again, as in the case of the list of suitors, it is a display of learning on Apollodorus’ part.48 Table 5: Numbers and names of the children of Helen Names

Source

1

Hermione

2

+  Nicostratus

2 2

+  Unnamed +  Maraphius

3 2 3

+  Nicostratus, Aetholias +  Corythus (by Paris) +  Pleisthenes (by Menelaus), Aganus (by Paris)

?

+  Iphigeneia (by Theseus)

Hom. Il. 3.175 (τηλυγέτη); Od. 4.3–14 Hes. Cat. fr. 204.94–95 M-W (ἄελπτον) Sapph. 16.10 V (conj.) (not named) Alc. 283.7 V (not named) Hes. Cat. fr. 175.2 M-W (from schol. Soph. El. 539) Cinaethon fr. 3 Bernabé = fr. 3 Davies = fr. 3 West (from schol. Hom. Il. 3.175) Lysimachus FGrH 382F12 (from schol. Eur. Andr. 898) Schol. Od. 4.11 Apollod. Bibl. 3.11.1 (κατά τινας) Soph. El. 539 Ariaethus FGrH 316F6 (from schol. Hom. Il. 3.175 citing Porphyry Quaest. Hom.) Schol. Hom. Il. 3.175 Nic. fr. 108 Gow-Scholfield (from Parthenius 34) Cypria fr. 12 Bernabé = fr. 10 Davies = Lysimachus FGrH 382F12 (from schol. Eur. Andr. 898, citing “the one who wrote the Cyprian histories”) Stesich. fr. 191 PMG (from Paus. 2.22.6); fr. 193 PMG (from POxy 2506 fr. 26 col. 1 sub fin. from Chamaeleon) Douris FGrH 76F92 Alex. Aet. fr. 12 Powell Euph. fr. 90 Powell

From the microanalyses here conducted some tentative conclusions can be drawn. First, Apollodorus shows inventiveness in combining received mythographical data into concise, easily comprehensible stories. This tendency of his narrative would be consistent with the character of the Bibliotheca as a work of popularization.

48 Cameron 2004, 161: “authenticating labels”.

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Scholars are not in doubt that this is in fact its character.49 One disagrees with Frazer, who called Apollodorus “a commonplace man, who relates without one touch of imagination or one spark enthusiasm the long series of fables and legends which inspired the immortal productions of Greek poetry and the splendid creations of Greek art”.50 Second, in two of the sentences analyzed above (V, VII) Apollodorus uses a list or the citation of sources to establish his authority. This conclusion supports what seems to be already the communis opinio concerning his lists and citations. But this communis opinio can be brought into relation with the epigram which Photius found at the beginning of his copy of Apollodorus. This epigram amounts to the assertion that the Bibliotheca is a substitute for reading the myths in the ancient poets. Whether or not Apollodorus wrote the epigram, the Bibliotheca is certainly a handbook and the citation of sources must be designed to assure readers that they can in fact trust it as an authority for what the old poets said. (The textual problems of the epigram do not affect this observation.)51 Third, a point concerning Apollodorus and the Second Sophistic can be suggested. Apollodorus is usually taken to fall inside the conventional dates of this period, 50–250 CE.52 But if we compare Apollodorus with the orators of the Second Sophistic, he seems to be different in some ways. Whereas they give themselves a cultural-political identity by Atticism of style and language – the imitation of Attic Greek as it had been spoken and written by the authors of the fifth and fourth century –, the style of Apollodorus is heterogeneous.53 Whereas the orators of the Second Sophistic were not only orators but the “cultural and political leaders of the civic elite in the Greek East,” Apollodorus, whoever he was, does not seem to be addressing an elite audience.54 49 E. g. Mactoux 1989, 249: “discours de vulgarisation se donnant pour tel”; Cuartero 2010, 23: “discurs vulgaritzador”. 50 Frazer 1921, xxxiii. 51 Line 1 is the locus conclamatus. Cf. the text of Cuartero (2010, 74–77) with that of Cameron (2004, 160–161) and that of Simelidis (2009, 70–71) (both Cameron and Simelidis read αἰῶνος πειρήματ’ ἀφυσσάμενος ἀπ’ ἐμεῖο). Simelidis follows up an unpublished note by Allan Griffiths in which the opening phrase of the epigram is compared with the same phrase (in the singular) in Gregory of Nazianzus, Carm. II.1.38[1326]7–11. Griffiths is unsure of the meaning of the phrase in Gregory (“O Test of Time”? “O Trial, Proof of Eternity”?). (Cameron knew this note. Simelidis has seen it; reports that Griffiths does not intend to publish it.) Griffiths doubts that Apollodorus is the author of the epigram. On line 5 see Cameron (1995, 396–399: he emends to κυκλικῶν). 52 On the dates and the period as a period: Swain 1996, 2–6. 53 Schwartz 1894: “die buntscheckige, dichterische Anklänge mit spätem Sprachgut sorglos mischende Diction” (“diction carelessly mixing motley, poetic allusions with late vocabulary”). Rossum-Steenbeek (1998, 166): “The vocabulary of Apd. is composed of everyday Attic mixed with many non-Attic forms … There are several rare … late … and many poetical words …”. Also Hard 1997, xii. 54 Quotation from Swain 1996, 2.



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The term Second Sophistic, coined by Philostratus, is not now restricted to orators but is used to refer to writers in other genres who were engaged in a “more general classicism”.55 Their work introduced the literate people of Greece and Asia Minor to the Hellenic patrimony.56 The Bibliotheca certainly belongs to this more general classicism.57 At the same time, its relation to the patrimony is clearly different from that of, say, Pausanias’ Periegesis. To put this point in terms of audiences, that of Pausanias is clearly expected to know already, or to be familiar with, the kind of information which the audience of Apollodorus begins to acquire by reading the Bibliotheca. The same point can be made concerning the relation of Apollodorus to other writers in this category of general classicism.58 Finally, on the matter of Apollodorus’ supposedly negative attitude toward Rome, it is inferred from the fact that he does not connect any Greek myth with Rome, as he might have done, obviously, in the case of Aeneas.59 Scholars are actually making a double argument from silence. First, they presuppose that enough of the Bibliotheca remains for us to make the argument. But the Epitome is after all an epitome and it is especially brief at the point at which Aeneas escapes from Troy.60 Second, the argument from silence presupposes an audience that can be engaged by an anti-Roman program. Is the relatively uneducated, non-elite readership of the Bibliotheca that audience? One doubts that it is. In the logic of the Greek reaction to Rome in the period of the Second Sophistic, first one is culturally Greek and then one reacts to Rome, perhaps as Greeks in the classical period reacted to the barbaroi, but this time only ideologically and, in daily life, without hostility to the ruling power.61 The readership of the Bibliotheca is only becoming Greek in the fuller cultural sense by the very fact of reading this work. Reaction to Rome would come later.

55 Swain 1996, 7. 56 This statement is modeled on Bowersock 1985, 710: “Pausanias’ outlook is so close to that of the other principal authors of his age (save Lucian) that it is not unreasonable to suppose that his work was explicitly designed to introduce the literate peoples of greater Hellas – Greece and Asia Minor – to their fatherland and its treasures”. 57 Cuartero 2010, 39. 58 Swain (1996), for example, discusses, besides Pausanias, Plutarch, Dio of Prusa, Arrian and Appian, Aristides, Lucian, Galen, Philostratus, and Cassius Dio. 59 For the argument from silence concerning Apollodorus see Swain (1996, 88 n. 60), who seems to accept it; Cuartero 2010, 21; Hard 1997, xiii. 60 The place at which Aeneas escapes from Troy with Anchises, i. e., the place at which Apollodorus might have looked ahead to Italy (Epit. 5.21), from the Epitoma Vaticana, is very abbreviated. 61 These remarks are based on Swain 1996, 87–89.

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Henderson, Jeffrey. Pursuing Nemesis: Cratinus and Mythological Comedy, in: No Laughing Matter: Studies in Old and Middle Comedy, edited by C.W. Marshall and G. Kovacs (London: Bristol Classical Press, 2012), 1–12. Hercher, Rudolph. Apollodori Bibliotheca (Berlin: Weidmann, 1874). Heyne, Christian Gottlob. Apollodorus: Bibliotheca (Göttingen: Heinrich Dieterich, 1803). H = Hirschberger, Martina. Gynaikon Katalogos und Megalai Ehoiai: Ein Kommentar zu den Fragmenten zweier hesiodeischer Epen (Munich: Saur, 2004). Huys, Marc. Euripides and the “Tales from Euripides”: Sources of the Fabulae of Ps.-Hyginus? APF 42 (1996), 168–78. Continued in APF 43.1 (1997), 11–30. Jong, Irene J. F. de. A Narratological Commentary on the Odyssey (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001). Jong, Irene J. F. de. Narratology and Classics: A Practical Guide (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014). Kahil, Lilly. Hélène, LIMC IV/1 (Zurich: Artemis, 1988), 498–563. Luppe, Wolfgang. Zeus und Nemesis in den Kyprien – Die Verwandlungssage nach Pseudo-­ Apollodor und Philodem. Philologus 118 (1974), 193–202. M = Most, Glenn W. Hesiod: The Shield; Catalogue of Women; Other Fragments. Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007). M-W = Merkelbach, Reinhold and M.L. West. Fragmenta Hediodea (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967). Mactoux, Marie Magdaleine. Panthéon et discours mythologique: Le cas de Apollodore. RHR 206 (1989), 245–70. Nünlist, René and Irene J. F. de Jong. Homerische Poetik in Stichwörtern: in Graf et al. 2000, 159–71. Obbink, Dirk. Philodemus, On Piety Part 1 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996). Papathomopoulos, Manolis. Απολλοδώρου Βιβλιοθήκη / Apollodori Bibliotheca post Richardum Wagnerum recognita (Athens: Aletheia, 2010). Parlato, Giorgia. Note di lettura ai ‘Cypria’: frr. 4.3, 9.1, 32.2 Bernabé. Lexis 28 (2010), 291–96. Rehm, Albert. Eratosthenis Catasterismorum fragmenta Vaticana (Ansbach: K. Humanistisches Gymnasium, 1899). Romani, Silvia. Nascite speciali: usi e abusi del modello biologico del parto e della gravidanza nel mondo antico (Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso, 2004). Rossum-Steenbeek, Monique van. Greek Readers’ Digest? Studies on a Selection of Subliterary Papyri (Leiden, New York & Köln, 1998). Rusten, Jeffrey (ed.). The Birth of Comedy: Texts, Documents, and Art from Athenian Comic Competitions, 486–280 (Balttimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2011). Schwartz, Eduard. Apollodorus (61), RE 1 (1894), 2855–2886. [Ps.-Apollodorus is discussed in III. “Die apollodorische Bibliothek” (2875–2886)]. Simelidis, Christos. Selected Poems of Gregory of Nazianzus: 1.2.17; II.1.10, 19, 32 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 2009). Swain, Simon, Hellenism and Empire. Language, Classicism, and Power in the Greek World, AD 50–250 (Oxford: University Press, 1996). Wagner, Richard. Apollodori Bibliotheca (Leipzig: Teubner, 1894). West, Martin L. Greek Epic Fragments from the Seventh to the Fifth Centuries B.C., Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003). West, Martin L. Indo-European Poetry and Myth (Oxford: University Press, 2007).

Ezio Pellizer

7 Typhoeus-Typhon in Hesiod, Apollodorus and Elsewhere 1 In these few reflections I would like to propose a brief summary of some impressive metamorphoses through many centuries of a “mythological ghost” (a mythème). I will try to highlight its overall operation in terms of the semiotics of the Antagonist and his qualities, and through its links with a (narrative) description of dominance, power, and violence. Thus we will explore some Greek representations of a polemical confrontation that are at the basis of all the struggles for the kingdom of heaven, for power, for the sovereignty and domination over the world: that is, a number of narrative and iconic manifestations of the “eternal myth” narrated by the poets, where some monstrous being embodies the fears and anxieties related to human aggressiveness. In other words, we will study some narrative and interpretative developments in reflections on the origins of evil, “das sogenannte Böse”,1 with some examples of how this reflection works in symbolic representations. The well known fragment of Heraclitus (53 DK) that speaks of polemos (or better Polemos?) as “father of all things” is often quoted, perhaps too often. In the t­ railers of “fantasy” films (like the mythological ones called pepla), it is ­mandatory to recite the usual platitude about “the eternal struggle of good against evil”.2 In terms of structural semiotics (the “school of Paris”, with reference to the ­teaching of A.-J. Greimas), we can speak of the “polemic structure” of any form of ­traditional story.3

Note: English translation of Julia Botteri and Ezio Pellizer. 1 To quote the title of the famous book of Konrad Lorenz 1963. 2 There are two films, one worse than the other, about the myth of Perseus, entitled “Clash of the Titans”, Desmond Davies 1981, Louis Leterrier 2010, but no one exceeds, for stupidity, violence, and deliberate ignorance of the Greek myth, the very recent “Wrath of Titans” (2012) by Jonathan Liebesman, where Perseus even confronts the Minotaur! 3 Cf. Greimas and Courtés 1979, 284: “l’activité humaine, conçue sous forme de confrontations, caractérise, dans une large mesure, l’imaginaire humain”.

Ezio Pellizer, University of Udine DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-007



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The mythologies of the ancient Mediterranean show a number of dynastic conflicts (endo-familial, generational), wars against external aggressors, human or semi-human enemies, neighboring tribes, etc. (endo-specific or exo-specific), or fights with wild animals and predators (hetero-specific), which often take the form of monstrous beings such as hybrids or giants (human bodies with wings, members in abnormal number, multiple heads, monoculism or other unnatural traits). Among hybrids the appearance of a snake is frequent (Dracon, Ophis, Echidna),4 or a sea monster (often a whale, a Cetos; cf. the Kraken of recent mythological films.5 These may be related to the spirit of primordial waters, cf. Charybdis, or the Maelstrom). Hu-wa-wa, the Leviathan, the Cetos, the Hurrian Hedammu (a sea snake-like monster, older brother of Ullikummi),6 etc.: these figures are quite numerous, and so widespread as to justify a polygenetic hypothesis, the product of a “memic” activity which processes ancestral experiences of aggression and predation, and continually reproduces an “investissement actoriel” (an “avatar”, an incarnation), based on a generalized narrative syntax that is in all probability a feature of paleo-communication (and therefore of paleo-semiotics). A generalized “polemic structure” of this kind of story endlessly clarifies, plays and reproduces these “memes”.7 The first thing that a hunter will tell, on his return home, is how ferocious was the beast he faced, and how brave he was to kill her, evoking the terror and the awfulness of his experience, while the warrior will boast of having overcome all manner of “panic” (Phobos, Deimos) and gutted the enemy. Genetics and “memetics”, developed in the course of phylogenesis, reproduce obsessively the syntax and the narrative structures of an elementary fiction. Thus we can see the outlines of an elementary discursive and syntactic structure (a NP, a Narrative Program) where a subject S1: must necessarily face an antiSubject (S2:) contending for the acquisition of an object of value (Ov:, or one or more items associated with it: power, dominance, kingdom, treasure, booty, girl, princess, etc.). This can only occur – of course – in presence of an adverse reaction, something like an anti-NP, a Narrative Program which is opposed to the hero’s program; through this elementary, simple schema, in endless variations, the structure of all

4 On snakes in myth, the literature is overwelming: after Fontenrose 1959, Visintin 1997 and many others. Cf. the recent Ogden 2013. 5 This monster, who belongs to the nordic mythology, makes his appearance in all the movies cited in nt. 2. 6 It would be pointless to report here the enormous bibliography that has accumulated on this subject, from the diffusion of Near Eastern data onwards (ANET; Walcot 1956, 1966, etc.); I will just mention the huge book of the late West 2007; Burkert 1992; Ogden 2013. 7 For a definition of “meme” cf. Dawkins 1976, 196; Blackmore 1999.

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heroic deeds is described and developed. There is no heroic Subject (someone dominant, like a king, a god, a hero) who does not have to face his épreuve (test, trial), confronting some Anti-Subject, who can take the role of the Opponent (Ant:).8

2 What is striking, in the Theogonies of ancient Greeks, is the repetition, i. e. the

multiplication (at times amounting to redundancy) of many “struggles for dominance” that the main hero (the Subject: in our case Zeus) must face, and the continuous interweaving of these struggles with parental and dynastic disputes.We may recall that in the oldest tales we find only gods or divine beings who are related to each other. Men (thnētoí, mortals) appear later, as can be seen particularly in the version of these “primordial struggles” that is reported by Apollodorus.Zeus, after suffering direct persecution (in his childhood) from his father (Cronus), and after growing prodigiously in a single year, protected by the Mother (Rhea), faces several challenges: a. first he grapples directly with his father, forcing him to vomit what he had swallowed, that is, his brothers and sisters, who will become his allies; b. then he has to fight against his paternal uncles, the Titans (gods of the previous generation), and locks them up again inTartarus, enjoying the help of some monstrous helpers (“Adjuvants”, Adj:) the Hundred-Handers (Latin Centimani), and the Cyclopes, i. e. gigantic freaks; c. finally he faces one last Antagonist (an anti-Subject): Typhoeus-Typhon,9 his maternal uncle, who also is gigantic and monstrous.10 In Apollodorus, the sequence is further complicated by the insertion (between the Titans and Typhon) of another epochal contrast, with a new collective Antagonist: d. the Giants, who are hybrids,11 with snaky traits and hairy “human” bodies, but they are at least “mortals”, as they can be killed!12 8 To approach this type of narrative analysis, drawn up by the school of A. J. Greimas, cf. Groupe d’Entrevernes 1979; Greimas and Courtés 1979; Calame 1985. 9 The (wrong) idea that in Hesiod there are two different monsters, Typhon and Typhoeus, is repeated in some dictionaries of mythology online (see Myth-Index s. u.); recte West 1966, 252 (commentary on Hes. Theog. 306). 10 I have examined in more detail this titanic clash between Zeus and Typhon in Pellizer 1996. 11 Cf. Clay 2003, 150–174 (chapter 7: “Hybrids”). In Nonnos (Dionys. I and II) Typhon seems to be equated and confused with a Giant. 12 One can speak of an “immortalité conditionnelle” of the Giants (see Jeanmaire 1953, 241, in his review of Vian 1952); there is mention of an interesting phármakon that Gaea produced, and which Zeus collected on a moonless night. Cf. also the ability of the Giant Alcyoneus to recover his strength every time he touched the ground in Pallene, Apollod. Bibl. 1.6.1 [35].



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This is the famous “conundrum of an absence”, the Gigantomachy, a rhapsodic poem that must have existed at least from the eighth century, but of which no early trace remains, except in iconography,13 starting from the late archaic period. We do not have the space here to delve into the problem; we will just point out three significant differences between Apollodorus and earlier versions of the battle with Typhon, and add a further important consideration about the general direction of development. 1. In a narrative segment that we find in Apollodorus (1.6.3 [42–43]), Typhon is able at first to capture Zeus himself, wrapping him in his coils and depriving him of the primordial sickle (the Harpe); then, with this, he cuts his tendons and holds him, until he is freed and healed by some “Helpers” (Adj: Hermes and Aegipan). 2. In Apollodorus Zeus, after the final victory over the Titans, and before facing Typhon, has to face the Giants, as we said, helped by all the gods of the Olympic Pantheon. But the victory is conditioned by a rather singular narrative constriction (contrainte): none of the Giants can be killed by a god, without the simultaneous action of a helper of human origin (half-god), who is Heracles; which is quite unusual, since the birth of Heracles apparently occurs after the Typhoeomachy! 3. Then – another non-Hesiodic datum – in a single sentence Apollodorus explains that all the Olympian gods, for fear of Typhon, fled to Egypt, where they were turned into animals.14 Only Antoninus Liberalis (perhaps 2nd. cent. CE, drawing as it seems on the Heteroioumena of Nicander of Colophon, 2nd. cent. BCE)15 provides information, for some of the gods, about the animals they became: Apollo turned into a hawk, Hermes an ibis, Artemis a cat. Curiously, Heracles also appears as a fawn (hellos). The story seems to date back at least to Pindar “in the Prosodia”, according to Porphyrius.16 The differences between the “canonical” version we read in Hesiod and that (or those) of Apollodorus are therefore substantial, and have been much studied. I 13 On the whole matter see Vian 1971, 25–41; for the latin Gigantomachy of Claudianus, see ­Romano 1979. 14 Apollod. Bibl. 1.6.3 [41]. Diod. Sic. 1.13 states that “some say” that the same Cronus and Rhea generated Isis and Osiris! The generalized metamorphosis of the Olympian gods remained a commonplace to explain the appearance of many theriomorphic Egyptian gods. 15 Recently edited by Almirall i Sardà and Calderón Dorda 2012, for the Fundació Bernat Metge, and often translated and commented in Spain and Italy. 16 Cf. Porph. Abst. 3.16 = Pind. fr. 91 Snell-Maehler: Πίνδαρος δὲ ἐν προσοδίοις πάντας τοὺς θεοὺς ἐποίησεν ὅτε ὑπὸ Τυφῶνος ἐδιώκοντο οὐκ ἀνθρώποις ὁμοιωθέντας, ἀλλὰ τοῖς ἄλλοις ζῴοις (“Pindar too, in his hymns, represents the Gods, when they were expelled by Typhon, not resembling men, but other animals”; transl. Thomas Taylor).

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will therefore comment on a less obvious aspect, which may be termed “dimensional”. Although Hesiod is certainly talking about a gigantic, hybrid and monstrous being, with atmospheric (and also clearly volcanic) traits, in Apollodorus we find “cosmic” traits which are not present in the epic Theogony.17 This mytho­ grapher says explicitly that the battle takes place in Cilicia (southern Anatolia, near Syria, on the mountain called Casius, near the mouth of the river Orontes), and that Typhon was so vast that “stretching out his arms, he could touch the East and the West”.18 This trend may be in place already by the end of the sixth century, if the early mythographer Acusilaus indeed mentioned it (fr. 10.23-24 Fowler). At any rate, it is in place by the time of Pindar. The geographical horizon of the Typhoeomachy is so broad as to embrace the East and the West, from the Caucasus to Cilicia, from Syria to Sicily, from the island of Ischia to the Serbonides Swamp, near Pelusium in Egypt. The details may vary considerably: it will be enough to quote Pindar, who not only changes the number of heads of Typhon from a hundred (as in Hesiod) in Pythian 1.15-20, to fifty in fr. 93 Snell-Maehler (Prosod.), but seems to attempt a difficult syncretism between different areas of volcanic nature, from Mount Etna in Sicily to the island of Ischia-Pithecusae.19

3 Allegoric transformations and the origins of “Egyptomania”20 In a time perhaps earlier than, or perhaps contemporary with, our Apollodorus (middle 1st. cent. – early 2nd. cent. CE),21 a great intellectual and polymath, a Delphic priest very skilled in philosophy, medicine and theology, demonstrated his “interpretative skills” with respect to the Typhoeomachy: Plutarch, in his interpretation of Typhon, joins his cosmic traits with some astronomical data concerning the orientation of the position assumed by the monster, correlated

17 I have examined elsewhere (Pellizer 2009 and 2010) the complex relationships between anthropomorphism and gigantism, in some “cosmic” representations of Typhon. 18 Aesch. PV 351–372 refers to a Typhon who lives in the caves of Cilicia, although his final location is under Mount Etna in Sicily, where he still caused earthquakes in historical times and in the time of the poet. Pindar, in a very “elastic” and conciliatory version of the myth, makes him born in Cilicia, and at the same time lie both under Etna and near Cyme, that is, in Ischia, Pyth. 1.15-27; see the precise commentary in Gentili’s edition (Angeli Bernardini, Cigano, Gentili, Giannini 1995, ad loc.); Ardizzoni 1978; Fowler 2013, 27–30. 19 Angeli Bernardini, Cigano, Gentili, Giannini 1995, 336 (comm. ad loc.) and lxii; cf. also Pind. Ol. 4.10-12; Pyth. 8.21-26 (hundred heads). 20 Cf. Assmann 1998. 21 But the syncretism Typhon-Seth and the flight into Egypt, near Pelusium, was well known before Plutarch and the Bibliotheca of (Pseudo-)Apollodorus, e. g. Hecat. FGrH 1F300, Aesch. Supp. 560, Hdt. 2.144.2, 2.156.4, 3.5.3, Diodorus 1.13, 1.21, etc.



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with the geography of Egypt (De Is. et Os. 363 D-E). For Plutarch there is no doubt about the fact that the story of Typhon should be read in Egyptian terms, and the struggle of good and evil is that between the good brother, Osiris, and the evil brother of Isis and Osiris, Seth-Typhon.22 Hence the (allegorical) identification of Osiris (Dionysus) with the waters of the fertile Nile, of Isis (Gaea, Demeter) with the Earth; and Typhon is nothing but a gigantic being connected with the sea, which lies near the delta of the Nile, where he clashes with Osiris when the streams of the Nile reach the sea. This fierce antagonist, Typhon-sea is described as the left side of a kosmos which is oriented toward the West, his back to the East, having the North to the right side, the South to the left.23 Therefore, while in Hesiod (and archaic epic) the flight of the gods to Egypt and their changing into animals are totally absent, in later centuries (at least 1st BCE-2nd CE) there has been a complete transposition, a transfer of an old syncretic “myth of the struggle for sovereignty” from Greece to Egypt. The cosmic duel is superimposed term for term on an endo-familar conflict between two brothers, within the complex of Egyptian polytheism: Isis – Earth (Demeter, Persephone, Gaea) Seth – Sea (Typhon) Osiris – Nile (Dionysus, Eros, etc.) Horus – Sun (Apollo). So, in the sinuous spirals of tradition, the Greeks (as we read in Diodorus and Plutarch in particular) transformed the Hesiodic Typhon into the evil brother of Osiris, Seth the hippopotamus (also called Bebon).24 Apollodorus mentions only the flight to Egypt and the metamorphosis of the gods into animals, but as we have seen, there is here a wide-ranging “theological” speculation, given that in a well known variation, Apollonius Rhodius can have Typhon disappear in the famous Serbonides Swamp, already known to Herodotus, at Pelusium near the eastern branch of the Nile’s Delta, where Asia ends and Egypt begins.25 In fact, the interpretation of Plutarch is rather more complex: it

22 Far from believing in a mere flight of the gods from Greece to the Land of the Nile, and in their metamorphoses into animals! 23 Plu. De Is. et Os. 363 D-E. I mention en passant that a curious acrophonic (or acronymic) interpretation in Greek terms of the name of Adam is discovered in the four cardinal points in Orac. Sibyll. 3.24-26; see Pellizer 2010, 14–15. 24 The Egyptologist Assmann 1998 convincingly explained how easily polytheisms, unlike the monotheistic “counter-religions”, can make syncretic equations of divine figures. 25 Hdt. 2.6; 3.5 (with Asheri 2007 ad loc.): ἀπὸ δὲ Σερβωνίδος λίμνης. ἐν τῇ δὴ λόγος τὸν Τυφῶ κεκρύφθαι, ἀπὸ ταύτης ἤδη Αἴγυπτος; cf. Ferrari 2011, sub voce ‘Serbonide’. Ap. Rhod. Argon. 2.1207-1215, after describing the snake that protects the Golden Fleece, continues:

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shows an intellectual quality and a high capacity for theoretical synthesis, as well as impressive scholarship, even about something as arcane as Egyption religion (based on Manetho and others).26 It is also worth noting that Plutarch thinks the story of the metamorphosis of the Egyptian gods into animals to escape Typhon a “monstrous mythical exaggeration” (πᾶσαν ὑπερπέπαικε τερατείαν καὶ μυθολογίαν). The polymath of Chaeronea was no fool: his purpose (as a priest and as a philosopher) was to confound, by means of allegory, the two major enemies of civilized society, which are atheism and relativism on the one hand, and credulous “pagan” superstition on the other.27

4

A too-human Typhon

Another intellectual, a pupil of the great Hypatia, Synesius of Cyrene (who ended his life as a Christian, bishop of Ptolemais in Cyrenaica, Libya) tells again the story of Typhon, now housed permanently in Egypt, in the pamphlet generally known as Egyptian Tales.28 His Typhon is simply the evil brother of Osiris, and both have become mere symbols (allegories, traditional metaphors) of good manners, virtues and good governance, symmetrically opposed to evil, vice and misrule. Here we have a simple allusion to contemporary politics; at least one half of the couple Osiris-Typhon is precisely identifiable, with Aurelian, praetorian prefect at the time of Arcadius (395–408), as Osiris, while it is not clear who Typhon may be. Their struggle, therefore, reflects the political situation of Constantinople during a stay of Synesius in this city in the years 397–400.It would be as if I were using Typhon to personify the virtues – or rather the vices – of some Italian (or European) politician as a symbol of corruption or bad government. τοῖός μιν ὄφις περί τ΄ ἀμφί τ΄ ἔρυται ἀθάνατος καὶ ἄυπνος, ὃν αὐτὴ Γαῖ΄ ἀνέφυσεν Καυκάσου ἐν κνημοῖσι, Τυφαονίη ὅθι πέτρη, ἔνθα Τυφάονά φασι, Διὸς Κρονίδαο κεραυνῷ βλήμενον ὁππότε οἱ στιβαρὰς ἐπορέξατο χεῖρας, θερμὸν ἀπὸ κρατὸς στάξαι φόνον· ἵκετο δ΄ αὔτως οὔρεα καὶ πεδίον Νυσήιον, ἔνθ΄ ἔτι νῦν περ κεῖται, ὑποβρύχιος Σερβωνίδος ὕδασι λίμνης. 26 I used, among the countless existing editions of this very famous treaty by Plutarch, that of Cilento 2002. 27 Plutarch recommends to his friend Clea, a gentlewoman and believer in Isis and Osiris (De Is. et Os. 355D): οὐδὲν ἔλαττον ἀποφεύξῃ κακὸν ἀθεότητος δεισιδαιμονίαν “you will avoid in the same way superstition, which is an evil no less than atheism (ἀθεότης)”. 28 Explaining that “the Egyptians are excellent in wisdom”, Synesius adds (Aegyptii sive de providentia 1.1): Ὁ μῦθος Αἰγύπτιος· περιττοὶ σοφίαν Αἰγύπτιοι. τάχ΄ ἂν οὖν ὅδε, καὶ μῦθος ὤν, μύθου τι πλέον αἰνίττοιτο, διότι ἐστὶν Αἰγύπτιος; see the edition of Garzya 1989.



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Fig. 1: Typhon. Athanasius Kircher, Oedipus Aegyptiacus, 1652–1654

Nonnus, who worked in Egypt in the 5th cent. CE, seems to return to a “Greek” vision of the conflict, in a sequence worthy of attention, quite amazing in fact, that occupies the first two books of his great poem about Dionysus, the Dionysiaka. Two hundred hands (twice the number of hands of the “Hundred-Handers”, the “Centimani”), with the coils of the serpent topped with a hundred heads are here

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imagined, on a cosmic scale threatening the entire Zodiac. Everything is included in the genealogy (with the relative chronology) of the time when the maiden Europe begat the kings of Crete, and quite unexpectedly Nonnus represents Europe’s brother Cadmus, future grandfather of the still unborn Dionysus, in the role of assistant (Adjuvant) of the great Zeus, captured by ther monster. The hero destined to found Thebes (after defeating other Giants born from the teeth of a snake), disguised as a shepherd, intervenes in aid of Zeus with the sound of a magic syrinx that fascinates the Giant, and seduces him as if with a love song.29 The brother of Europe and future husband of Harmonia are thus able to recover the tendons of Zeus (pretending to want use them to build an even more harmonious zither) and allow his victory over Typhon (Nonn. Dionys., end of book I beginning of II). What is quite striking, in this Egyptian poet from Panopolis, is the absence of any mention of syncretic identifications with Egyptian deities of the Greek gods who took part in this crowded clash. Yet these identifications were common at least since the time of Herodotus (2.144; 2.156). In an Egyptian poet, this seems somehow paradoxical.30 More than a thousand years later, in his enigmatic and gigantic Oedipus Aegyptiacus (Romae, 1652–1654), the Jesuit Father Athanasius Kircher, one of the many fathers of “Egyptomania”, printed the image in Fig. 1. He follows Apollodorus, but adds in a rather bizarre way – I would say – what he thought was the Interpretatio (diligently divided in ethica and physica) of Typhon, according both to Synesius (iuxta Synesium) and Plutarch (iuxta Plutarchum). If he had understood better the dialogue of Plutarch on Isis and Osiris, perhaps he would have abstained from such a systematic trivialization. He does consistently better, however, than the “interpretations” of the alchemist Dom Antonio Pernety,31 who in 1758 explained Typhon as the negative and corrupting fire, the alchemical sulphur, and at the same time, as in Plutarch, as salt sea-water, in accordance with the dictates of Hermetic chemistry.32

5 Brief conclusions Typhon enjoys today, thanks to the culture of mass media, a sort of modest revival. The name of the divine monster, son of Gaea, still survives, thanks to the fact that he has turned into a common noun, denoting climatic disasters and acquiring a 29 Cadmus comes to the aid of Zeus also in Pisander of Laranda. Cf. Tissoni’s commentary on the Italian translation of Nonnus, Dion. 1.365 (Maletta and Tissoni 1997, 223). 30 Cf. Gigli Piccardi 2003, 14 (commentary on Nonn. Dionys. 1.142-145). 31 This book was recomended to me by Jaume Pòrtulas, whom I thank here. 32 Dom Antonio Pernety, Le favole Egizie e Greche, 80–84 of the Italian translation.



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sinister reputation, although in Mediterranean locations his “volcanic” traits (so dear to the “catastrophic” culture of modern popular media) are prevalent. The location of Ischia as the place of the monster’s imprisonment, deriving from Pindar and perhaps contained in the works of Pherecydes of Athens,33 can be found today in the brochures or in the websites for tourists, and even inspired a young painter on the island of Ischia (the ancient Pithecusae), named Dario di Meglio, to create a painting with the title “The Awakening of Typhon” (oil on canvas, 2011, Fig. 2):34 If we compare it with the famous Chalcidic hydria (Fig. 3), to say nothing of the verbal description of Hesiod, we are amazed by the extent and variety of metamorphoses.35 In summary: a. no longer are there two hundred hands and “tireless feet” (of unknown number); b. there is no attempt to reproduce the description “from his shoulders grew an hundred heads of a snake, / a fearful dragon, with dark, flickering tongues” (Theog. vv. 825–826, transl. Evelyn-White); c. no trace remains of the descriptive section that says “and from under the brows of his eyes in his marvellous heads flashed fire, and fire burned from his heads as he glared”, a flame that flickered from all these multiple heads, whenever this nightmarish creature stared at someone.36 d. the dimensions of the monster are no longer “cosmic”, but simply huge, coterminous with the island of Ischia-Pithecusae. The giant Typhon, in this painting by Dario Di Meglio, is not meant to look like the serpentine, winged Typhon, with many arms and a hundred heads, as described by Hesiod, nor even like the monster that faces the lightning of Zeus in the Chalcidian hydria, with his legs in the form of snakes; rather, he develops the folkloric

33 Pind. Pyth. 1.15-28; Pherecyd. fr. 54 Fowler (dub. 224 Dolcetti) = Schol. Ap. Rhod. 2.1209: ὅτι δὲ ἐπὶ τὸν Καύκασον κατέφυγεν ὁ Τυφὼς διωκόμενος, καὶ ὅτι καιομένου τοῦ ὄρους ἔφυγεν ἐκεῖθεν εἰς τὴν Ἰταλίαν, ὅπου τὴν Πιθηκοῦσσαν αὐτῷ περιρριφῆναι νῆσον, Φερεκύδης (ἐν τῇ Θεογονίᾳ) ἱστορεῖ, οὐ μέντοι, ὅτι καὶ εἰς τοὺς περὶ Συρίαν τόπους ἠλάθη, ὥς φησιν Ἀπολλώνιος; on the question of attribution to Pherecydes of Athens (distinguished from Pherecydes of Syros), see Fowler 1999. The location in Campania is found again in Verg. Aen. 9.712 (dub. Serv. ad loc.); Str. 13.4.6; Plin. Nat. hist. 3.36. 34 An example of an high level reconstruction of mythical motifs in modern art (in the painter Remedios Varo, 1908–1963) may be found in the fine contribution of Rius Gatell 2007. 35 Cf. Pellizer 2009, 271–273. 36 In addition, his hundred tongues produced a variety of sounds, ranging from the plain language of the gods to the bellowing of a bull or to a lion’s roar; but we know that no painter, however brilliant, can be skilled to the point of pingere sonum.

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Fig. 2: D. Di Meglio, The Awakening of Typhon. Oil on canvas (with the kind permission of the Author)

Fig. 3: Zeus and Typhon. Chalcidian hydria from Vulci, 6th cent. BCE. München Staatsmuseum



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ghost, still widespread in Sicily and in other volcanic islands, of a giant holding an island on his shoulders, who may one day wake up and create a disaster.37 But almost 3,000 years have passed, and we can see today that the image of Typhon is still alive and free, and available for future creative imagination, and perhaps will still give us some more interesting avatars, in films, art, theater or video-games.

Bibliography Almirall i Sardà, Jaume and Esteban Calderón Dorda (ed.). Antoní Liberal. Recull de Metamorfosis (Barcelona: Fundació Bernat Metge, 2012). Angeli Bernardini, P. Cingano, E. Gentili, B. Giannini, P. (ed.). Pindaro. Le Pitiche, (Milano: Mondadori, 1995). Ardizzoni, Anthos. Tifone e l’eruzione dell’Etna in Eschilo e in Pindaro. Riflessioni sulla priorità, GIF 30 (1978), 233–244. Asheri, David; Lloyd, Alan; Corcella, Aldo. A Commentary on Herodotus Books I-IV (Oxford: University Press, 2007). Assmann, Jan. Moses der Ägypter. Entzifferung einer Gedächtnisspur (München: Hanser, 1998). Bascom William. The Form of Folklore: Prose Narratives. Journ. of Amer. Folklore 78 (1965), 3–20. Blackmore, Susan. The Meme Machine (Oxford: University Press, 1999). Burkert Walter. The Orientalizing Revolution. Near Eastern Influence on Greek Culture in the Early Archaic Age (Cambridge (Mass.) & London: Harvard University Press, 1992). Calame, Claude. La formulation de quelques structures sémio-narratives ou comment segmenter un texte. in: Exigences et perspectives de la sémiotique. Recueil d’hommages pour Algirdas Julien Greimas. Vol. 1, edited by H. Parret, H.-G Ruprecht (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 1985), 135–147. Calame, Claude. Mythe et histoire dans l’Antiquité grecque. La création symbolique d’une colonie (Lausanne: Payot, 1996). Cilento, Vincenzo (ed.). Plutarco. Iside e Osiride e Dialoghi delfici (Milano: Bompiani, 2002). Clay, Jenny Strauss. Hesiod’s Cosmos (Cambridge: University Press, 2003). Dawkins, Richard. The Selfish Gene (Oxford: University Press, 1976). Ferrari, Anna. Dizionario dei luoghi del mito: Geografia reale e immaginaria del mondo classico (Milano: Rizzoli, 2011). Fontenrose, Jospeh. Python. A Study of Delphic Myth and Its Origins (Berkeley-Los AngelesLondon: University of California Press, 1959). Fowler, Robert L. The Authors named Pherecydes, Mnemosyne 52 (1999), 1–15. Fowler, Robert L. Early Greek Mythography. Volume II : Commentary (Oxford: University Press, 2013). Garzya, Antonio (ed.). Opere di Sinesio di Cirene. Epistole, Operette, Inni (Torino: Utet, 1989). 37 Further images, including an interesting drawing from the book of Camillo Eucherio De Quintiis, Inarime seu de balneis Pithecusarum, Naples 1726, can be found in the site: http://www. pithecusae.it/materiali/tifeo.htm.

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Gigli Piccardi, Daria. Nonno di Panopoli. Le Dionisiache, Vol. I (Milano: Rizzoli, 2003). Greimas A. J. and J. Courtés. Sémiotique. Dictionnaire raisonné de la théorie du langage (Paris: Hachette, 1979). Groupe d’Entrevernes. Analyse sémiotique des textes (Lyon: Presses Universitaires de Lyon, 1979). Jeanmaire, Henri. Review of Francis Vian, La guerre des Géants. Le mythe avant l’époque hellénistique (Paris: Klincksieck, 1952), Rev. Hist. Rel. 143 (1953), 239–243. Lorenz, Konrad. Das sogenannte Böse. Zur Naturgeschiche der Aggression (Wien: Borotha Schöler, 1963). Maletta, Maria and F. Tissoni F. (ed.). Nonno di Panopoli. Le Dionisiache. Vol. I. Trad. M.M., comm. di F. T. (Milano: Adelphi, 1997). Ogden Daniel. Drakōn: Dragon Myth and Serpent Cult in the Greek and Roman Worlds (Oxford: University Press, 2013). Pellizer, Ezio. Réflections sur les combats de la Théogonie, in: Le métier du mythe Lectures d’Hésiode, edited by F. Blaise, P. Judet de la Combe, and Ph. Rousseau (Lille: Presses Universitaires du Septentrion, 1996), 235–249. Pellizer, Ezio. L’Anthropomorphisme des dieux dans la Grèce antique, in: Images of the Pagan Gods. Papers of a Conference in Memory of Jean Seznec, edited by R. Duits and F. Quiviger (London: Warburg Institute Colloquia, 2009), 267–280. Pellizer, Ezio. Representações de monstros, figuras humanas e deuses na Grécia antiga. Revista Letras 80 (2010), 13–28 (cf. Pellizer 2009). Pernety, Dom Antonio. Les Fables égyptiennes et grecques dévoilées et réduites au même principe, avec une explication des hiéroglyphes et de la guerre de Troye, 1758 (Trad. it. Città di Castello (PG): Libritalia, 1997). Rius Gatell, Rosa. Remedios Varo revisita el somni mític, in: Del mite als mites. Jornada internacional. 10 de març del 2006, edited by Jordi Malé (Santa Coloma de Queralt: Obrador Edèndum, 2007), 103–132. Romano, Domenico. Struttura della “Gigantomachia” latina, in Studi di poesia latina in onore di A. Traglia. Vol. II (Roma: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1979), 925–936. Vernant J.-P. Mètis et les mythes de souveraineté, Rev. Hist. Rel. 180 (1971), 29–76. Vian, Francis. La guerre des Géants. Le mythe avant l’époque hellénistique (Paris: Klincksieck, 1952). Vian, Francis. Le syncrétisme et l’évolution de la Gigantomachie, in: Le syncrétisme dans les religions grecque et romaine, Colloque de Strasbourg (9–11 juin 1971) (Paris: PUF, 1971), 25–41. Visintin, Monica. Di Echidna, e di altre femmine anguiformi, Métis 12 (1997), 205–221. Walcot, Peter. The Text of Hesiod’s Theogony and the Hittite Epic of Kumarbi, CQ 6 (1956), 198–206. Walcot, Peter. Hesiod and the Near East (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1966) West, Martin L. Hesiod. Theogony (Oxford: University Press, 1966) West, Martin L. The East Face of Helicon. West Asiatic Elements in Greek Poetry and Myth (Oxford: University Press, 1997). West, Martin L. Indo-European Poetry and Myth (Oxford: University Press, 2007) http://www.pithecusae.it/materiali/tifeo.htm [accessed March 2017] http://www.nostraischia.it/ischia-cultura/risveglio-di-tifeo-ischia-arte-olio-su-tela/9977/ [accessed March 2017]

Alberto Bernabé

8 Orpheus in Apollodorus 1 Introduction The aim of this work is to analyze how Apollodorus presents the myth of Orpheus. I will leave aside any of his references to the Orphic poems: although we will realize that theogonies from the Orphic corpus could be found among the sources of his Bibliotheca, Apollodorus never attributed a work to the mythical singer. It will be interesting to examine the variants of the chosen myth as well as other short versions that, despite being so popular at the time of Apollodorus, were not taken into consideration, such as the previous version by Strabo and the contemporary one, by Pausanias.1 The comparison of these variants will allow us to determine the differences between each of these approaches.

2 Relevant passages Apollodorus refers to the myth of Orpheus in three different passages. The first one, where most attention is given to it, is almost at the beginning of the Biblio­ theca. After the genealogy of the children of Zeus in 1.3.1 [13], he mentions the offspring of the Muses in the next paragraph: Linus, Orpheus, Hyacinthus, Rhesus, the Corybantes and the Sirens. The passage says (I follow Cuartero’s excellent edition):2 Καλλιόπης μὲν οὖν καὶ Οἰάγρου, κατ᾽ ἐπίκλησιν δὲ Ἀπόλλωνος, Λίνος, ὃν Ἡρακλῆς ἀπέκτεινε, καὶ Ὀρφεὺς ὁ ἀσκήσας κιθαρῳδίαν, ὃς ᾄδων ἐκίνει λίθους τε καὶ δένδρα. ἀποθανούσης δὲ Εὐρυδίκης τῆς γυναικὸς αὐτοῦ, δηχθείσης ὑπὸ ὄφεως, κατῆλθεν εἰς Ἅιδου θέλων ἀνάγειν αὐτήν, καὶ Πλούτωνα ἔπεισεν ἀναπέμψαι. ὁ δὲ ὑπέσχετο τοῦτο ποιήσειν, ἂν μὴ πορευόμε­ νος Ὀρφεὺς ἐπιστραφῇ πρὶν εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν αὑτοῦ παραγενέσθαι· ὁ δὲ ἀπιστῶν ἐπιστραφεὶς

Note: This work is part of a Research Project founded by the MINECO (FFI2013-43126-P). 1 I accept the common belief, dating Apollodorus to the second half of the 2nd century CE. 2 Apollod. Bibl. 1.3.2 [14]. Alberto Bernabé, Universidad Complutense DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-008

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ἐθεάσατο τὴν γυναῖκα, ἡ δὲ πάλιν ὑπέστρεψεν. εὗρε δὲ Ὀρφεὺς καὶ τὰ Διονύσου μυστήρια, καὶ τέθαπται περὶ τὴν Πιερίαν διασπασθεὶς ὑπὸ τῶν μαινάδων. Now Calliope bore to Oeagrus or, nominally, to Apollo, a son Linus, whom Heracles slew; and another son, Orpheus, who practised minstrelsy and by his songs moved stones and trees. And when his wife Eurydice died, bitten by a snake, he went down to Hades, being fain to bring her up, and he persuaded Pluto to send her up. The god promised to do so, if in the way Orpheus would not turn round until he should be come to his own house. But he disobeyed and turning round beheld his wife; so she turned back. Orpheus also invented the mysteries of Dionysus, and having been torn in pieces by Maenads he is buried in Pieria.3

The second mention of Orpheus, this time in two brief allusions, is inserted in the tale of the Argonauts. In the catalogue of the expedition’s participants (1.9.16 [111–113]) he briefly includes “Orpheus, son of Oeagrus” (Ὀρφεὺς Οἰάγρου) and, later, he mentions his performance to counteract the song of the Sirens (1.9.25 [135]): παραπλεόντων δὲ Σειρῆνας αὐτῶν, Ὀρφεὺς τὴν ἐναντίαν μοῦσαν μελῳδῶν τοὺς Ἀργοναύτας κατέσχε. ‘And as they sailed past the Syrens, Orpheus restrained the Argonauts by chanting a counter melody’. Finally, in 2.4.9 [63], Apollodorus includes Linus as one of the teachers of Heracles, and says that he was the brother of Orpheus (οὗτος δὲ ἦν ἀδελφὸς Ὀρφέως).

3 Preliminary considerations Apollodorus presents what we may call a standard version of the myth, for he seems to select the most widespread variants of every single detail. The only alternative that he proposes is related to the identity of Orpheus’ father. Apollodorus never discusses the authenticity of what he tells, nor does he interpret the mythic events from his current point of view. The mythical aspects that he states are as follows: in the first passage, he mentions the genealogy, his skills as a marvellous singer, the Eurydice episode, the foundation of the mysteries, his death and the place of his tomb. In the second one, Apollodorus refers to his appearance as an Argonaut and his ability to neutralize the Sirens’ song. In the last passage, there is an allusion to his relationship with Linus. Let us examine more closely the versions that Apollodorus selected for each of these episodes. 3 Translation by Frazer 1921.



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4 Apollodorus’ selection of variants 4.1 The genealogy of Orpheus In the case of Orpheus’ mother, Apollodorus calls her Calliope, which is the most common name in the sources, already quoted by Pindar,4 and opposed to the less frequent Polymnia, Clio or Menippe.5 As for his father, the author selects the even more common name of Oeagrus, which was probably mentioned by Eumelus – if Debiasi is right in attributing him a fragment preserved in a papyrus from Oxyrhynchus –,6 and certainly by Pindar.7 However, Apollodorus adds the expression κατ᾽ ἐπίκλησιν δὲ Ἀπόλλωνος. Apollo’s fatherhood is recorded in a Pythian oracle quoted by Menaechmus, a historian of the 4th or 3rd century BCE, who of course lived earlier than Apollodorus.8 Asclepiades of Tragilus and later authors also refer to it.9 Pindar, for his part, who claimed that Orpheus was the son of Oeagrus, refers to him with a sibylline expression: ἐξ Ἀπόλλωνος δὲ φορμιγκτὰς ἀοιδᾶν πατήρ / ἔμολεν, εὐαίνητος Ὀρφεύς “from Apollo the lyre-player, father of songs, the famous Orpheus came”.10 According to my view, Braswell offers the best explanation for this passage when claiming “what Pindar has done is strongly to imply that Orpheus was the son of Apollo without actually stating it”.11 On the other hand, it is not unusual to find two fathers, a divine and a human one, assigned to the same hero. The scholium on this passage, thoroughly studied by Villagra, reflects that the discussion of fatherhood was long lasting and inconclusive.12 Now, the question is “what does Apollodorus mean with κατ᾽ ἐπίκλησιν?”. In contrast to the common translation of “nominally”, Carrière and Massonie13 and later editors14 proposed to read it as “really”. However, I argue that there is 4 Pind. fr. 128c, 5 Maehler; Orph. fr. 902–906 Bernabé (from this point on I will quote them as OF and the number of fragment). 5 Polymnia: Sch. Ap. Rhod. 1.23–25a (OF 907); Clio: Sch. Hom. Il. 10.435 van Thiel; Eust. ad loc. (OF 908); Menippe: several passages from Tzetzes (OF 909). 6 POxy. 53,3698 (OF 1005a), ed. Haslam: Ο]ἰ̣άγρο̣υ φ̣[ί]λ̣ος υἱ[ός. Cf. Debiasi 2003. 7 Pind. fr. 128c, 11 Maehler (56, 11 Cannatà Fera) υἱὸν Οἰάγρου / Ὀρφέα χρυσάορα. 8 Menaechm. FGrH 131F2 (OF 895). 9 Asclep. Tragil., fr. 6 Villagra (OF 896); Ov. Met. 10.167, Phld. Piet. P. Hercul. 243 VI 12 (OF 898) and Orph. Hymns 24.12; on this one see Ricciardelli 2000, ad loc. 10 Pind. Pyth. 4.176–177. 11 Braswell 1988, 256. 12 Villagra 2012, commentary to fr. 6. 13 Carrière and Massonie 1991, 168. 14 Scarpi 2005, 431 and Cuartero 2010, 100.

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no reason to modify the common belief. The most generic meaning of ἐπίκλησις is that of “nickname”, as opposed to “birth name”.15 It is, therefore, an additional way (ἐπί) of calling (καλεῖν) someone, motivated by a particular circumstance. In the case of lineages, it is clear that ἐπίκλησις does not correspond to the real genealogy, since it is a fake one, as demonstrated when it is opposed to γενεή16 or γόνος.17 I should add that, even if Pindar’s passage in Pythian 4 could have lead Apollodorus to consider Orpheus as a son of Apollo – or at least to maintain this ambiguity –, he calls him son of Oeagrus in the catalogue of Argonauts. To sum up, I believe that Apollodorus echoes the existing controversy about the identity of Orpheus’ father, which was still current in his time: although he chooses the human Oeagrus as the real affiliation, he also claims that Orpheus is nominally considered a son of Apollo. Just like Pindar,18 Apollodorus introduces Linus as the brother of Orpheus. The mythographer states this again in 2.4.9 [63], when he recounts his own story. Yet, there are other traditions according to which Linus would be Orpheus’ greatgrandfather, his pupil or his teacher; the fragment of a comedy presents him as the owner of several Orphic books and it is also said that one of these books was dedicated to him by Orpheus himself. Apollodorus seems to follow the most ancient tradition that we know, that is, the Pindaric one.19

15 Cf. Hom. Il. 22.506: Ἀστυάναξ, ὃν Τρῶες ἐπίκλησιν καλέουσιν, “he whom the Trojans nicknamed Astyanax” (the real one was Scamandrius); 16.175–177: ὃν τέκε Πηλῆος θυγάτηρ καλὴ Πολυδώρη / Σπερχειῷ ἀκάμαντι γυνὴ θεῷ εὐνηθεῖσα, / αὐτὰρ ἐπίκλησιν Βώρῳ Περιήρεος υἷι; “the beautiful daughter of Peleus, Polydora, bore him, a woman laying with Spercheius, the untiring god, but who was called son of Borus, Periere’s son”. Hes. Theog. 207: τοὺς δὲ πατὴρ Τιτῆνας ἐπίκλησιν καλέεσκε “but their father called them Titans as a nickname”. 16 Ap. Rhod. 1.202–203: σὺν δὲ Παλαιμόνιος Λέρνου πάις Ὠλενίοιο / Λέρνου ἐπίκλησιν, γενεήν γε μὲν Ἡφαίστοιο “with him came Palaemonius, son of Olenian Lernus; he was called Lernus, but his birth was from Hephaestus”. 17 Sch. Hom. Il. 9.557–558 Erbse: Ἴδας ὁ Ἀφαρέως μὲν παῖς κατ᾽ ἐπίκλησιν, γόνος δὲ Ποσειδῶνος “Idas, is called son of Aphareus, but his birth was from Poseidon”; Sch. Hom. Il. 11.750 Erbse: Ἡσίοδος [fr. 17b M-W] Ἄκτορος κατ᾽ ἐπίκλησιν καὶ Μολιόνης αὐτοὺς γεγενεαλόγηκεν, γόνῳ δὲ Ποσειδῶνος “Hesiod has given their descent by calling them Actor and Molione, but their birth was from Poseidon”; Sch. Pind. Ol. 9.62d: ταύτης γὰρ καὶ Λοκροῦ κατ᾽ ἐπίκλησιν μὲν Ὀποῦς, γόνῳ δὲ Διός “Opus was called her son and son of Locrus, but his birth was from Zeus”. 18 Pind. fr. 128c Maehler (56 Cannatà Fera); cf. Linus, OF 34. 19 Great-grandfather: Certamen 4 West; Suda, s.u. Ὅμηρος (Linus, OF 58); pupil: Nicom. p. 266, 2 Jan (Linus, OF 59); master: Diod. Sic. 3.67.2 (Linus, OF 59a); book owner: Athen. 4.164b = Alexis fr. 140 Kassel-Austin (Linus, OF 73); dedication of the Sphere: Sch. Hom. Il. 18.570 Erbse and Eust. ad loc. (Linus, OF 77).



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4.2 Skills as a marvellous singer I should not omit the extraordinary qualities of the music of Orpheus, for it is the most characteristic attribute of his myth. To refer to these skills, Apollodorus uses the expression ὁ ἀσκήσας κιθαρῳδίαν, ὃς ᾄδων ἐκίνει λίθους τε καὶ δένδρα ‘who practiced minstrelsy and by his songs moved stones and trees’. This is an interesting statement for two reasons. The first one is that, with concrete nouns, ἀσκήσας means ‘to work curiously, form by art’, but it can also mean ‘to practice’, when it is used with abstract nouns.20 Thus, it appears that Apollodorus presents the art of Orpheus as the result of a continuous practice and not as a divine gift. The second one is that he alludes to stones and trees as the target of his performance skills, and not to the animals, which were considered his most common addressees, ever since Simonides’ beautiful description.21

4.3 Argonaut: the victory over the Sirens One of the oldest features of the myth of Orpheus is that he participated in the expedition of the Argonauts. The first attestation of Orpheus in Greek literature was as an Argonaut since, according to Eumelus, he won the citharodic contest in the first Isthmian Games;22 but also Pindar23 and Euripides24 mention this aspect. Moreover, Orpheus is presented among the Argonauts in his first reliable ­appearance in visual arts, the metope of the Sicyonian treasury at Delphi, where the ­inscription ΟΡΦΑΣ places him on the Argo.25 The first author who mentioned his victory over the Sirens was Herodorus of Heraclea.26 He explained that Orpheus joined the expedition because the Centaur Chiron had predicted that he could defeat the Sirens. However, it is possible that Simonides had dedicated a previous poem to this competition, of which two fragments survive.27 Apollonius of Rhodes and later authors also deal with this

20 Cf. LSJ, s.u. I.1 and II. 21 Simon. PMG 567 (OF 943). See further details in OF 943–977. 22 Cf. Favorin. Cor. 14 (305, 17 Barigazzi) = Eumel. fr. 8 Bernabé (OF 1005a). 23 Pind. Pyth. 4.176–177. 24 Eur. Hypsipyl. ca. 257–263 (OF 1007). 25 Homolle 1909, 27, n. 10 (OF 865). 26 Herodor. fr. 43b Fowler (= Pherec. fr. 26 Fowler). 27 Simon. PMG 597 and 567.

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subject.28 As for the visual arts, the motif of a lyre-player confronting the Sirens is documented from a very early date.29

4.4 Eurydice episode Apollodorus focuses his attention on the most famous episode of Orpheus’ myth, his unsuccessful search for Eurydice (OF 987). Essentially, the version that he presents agrees with the most widespread one, which became well known after the long accounts of Virgil and Ovid: – The wife of Orpheus is called Eurydice. Apollodorus ignores earlier sources, such as those omitting her name30 or the Hellenistic ones, which called her Agriope or Argiope.31 The first occurrence of the name Eurydice is in pseudo-Moschus.32 Bremmer has considered this fact, as well as the relationship of the name with the Macedonian royal family, in order to date its attribution to Orpheus’ wife to the Hellenistic period.33 According to Bremmer, the poets acknowledged that the Thracian setting of the Orphic myth was then under the Macedonian power. – She is bitten by a snake and dies. – Orpheus descends into Hades to seek her (constant element of the story). – He agrees not to look back at her but – He lacks confidence and breaks his promise, so Eurydice must return to the Underworld. It is usually believed that Ovid and Virgil (as well as Apollodorus, I should add) present an identical plot because they follow a common Hellenistic source. Here I will not deal with the controversy aroused by Bowra’s proposal, according to which the tragic ending of this version would be an adaptation of a previous 28 Ap. Rhod. 4.898–911; cf. Hyg. Fab. 14.27, Sen. Med. 355–360; Philostr. Imag. 2.15, Philostr.Iun. Imag. 11; Them. Or. 13.178c; Orph. Arg. 1284–1290. On Orpheus and the Sirens, see Weicker 1897– 1902, 604; Graf 1987, 96–97; Bernabé 2008a, 66–67; Cabrera 2012, 14–23; Jiménez San Cristóbal 2012, 133–137. 29 An early black-figure Attic lekythos from Heidelberg (580–570 BCE) or the three tall terracotta figures from Tarentum, with a lyre-player and two Sirens, probably ca. 310 BCE, preserved at the Getty Museum in Malibu, California. See bibliography in OF II, p. 462. 30 For example in Eur. Alc. 357–362 (OF 980); Pl. Symp. 179d (OF 983); Diod. Sic. 4.25 (OF 984); Plut. De Sera 566B (OF 998). See Bremmer 1991. 31 Hermesian. Leont. fr. 7.14 Powell. 32 Mosch. 3.124. 33 Bremmer 1991.



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version with a happy ending, where Eurydice was liberated and returned to the world of the living.34 I merely point out that I do not share this view for reasons explained elsewhere.35 According to the Greek mentality, the attempt to bring a dead person back to life represents a transgression that could not come to a good end.

4.5 The foundation of the mysteries Orpheus is commonly said to be the founder of the mysteries, ever since Aristophanes’ Frogs and the Rhesus attributed to Euripides.36 Apollodorus’ reference to his foundation of the Dionysiac mysteries (τὰ Διονύσου μυστήρια: OF 501) presents remarkable peculiarities. The first one is that it establishes a direct link between the Orphic mysteries and Dionysus. This was a much-debated question until the discovery of some important texts: a) the Orphic tablet from Pelinna (4th c. BCE), which clearly alludes to Bacchios and the liberation of the deceased; b) the tablet from Hipponion (ca. 400 BCE), which refers to the privileges of the μύσται καὶ βάχχοι, and, especially, c) the bone tablet from Olbia (5th c. BCE), which refers to Dionysus and the Orphics in a context of belief that could be summarized through the terms “life-death-life, truth”.37 All these tablets have demonstrated that Burkert had good reason to assign “Bacchic mysteries” to the Orphic rites.38 A work of Ana Jiménez San Cristóbal offers an excellent overview of the evidence.39 The second peculiarity is that Apollodorus uses μυστήρια instead of τελεταί, which is the most frequent term in ancient sources.40 Now Scarpi has made an important observation: “l’inventio di Orfeo è infatti un atto di ‘fondazione’ ... di un culto”.41 In the short tale of Apollodorus, this is

34 Bowra 1952, also followed by Robbins 1982, 15. 35 Bernabé 2008a, 21–24. 36 Ar. Ran. 1032; Eur. Rhes. 943. See Bernabé 2008b. 37 Tablet from Pelinna: OF 485; tablet from Hipponion: OF 474; tablet from Olbia: OF 463. See Bernabé 2008a, 537–546; Bernabé and Jiménez San Cristóbal 2011; and Graf and Johnston 2013. 38 See, for instance, Burkert 2007, 385–389 and recently Obbink 2013, who also mentions the group of three terracotta figures from Tarentum, already quoted in n. 29. 39 Jiménez San Cristóbal 2008. 40 Apollodorus uses the term τελεταί twice: in 2.2.2 [26] the daughters of Proetus go mad because they do not accept the rites of Dionysus (τὰς Διονύσου τελετάς); in 3.5.1 [33] it is Dionysus himself who learns the rituals (ὑπὸ Ῥέας καὶ τὰς τελετὰς ἐκμαθών) from Rhea (Cybele). 41 Scarpi 2005, 432.

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the only connection between Orpheus and his current world, as he never presents him as a poet or an inventor.42

4.6 Death The next episode deals with the death of Orpheus, on which there were multiple legends. From all these versions Apollodorus selects the story in which the Maenads dismembered Orpheus, although he does not explain the reasons for their behaviour. Other sources, on the contrary, offer several explanations: Orpheus’ apostasy from the cult of Dionysus and his conversion into the cult of the Sun, his disdain of women, or the fact that his doctrines invited husbands to abandon their wives. There are also some isolated versions alluding to his homosexuality. All these variants have been carefully studied by Marco Antonio Santamaría.43 It seems that Apollodorus considers this question as a minor aspect and this is why he decided not to deal with further details.

4.7 Place of his tomb As for the various proposals about the place in which Orpheus was buried, Apollodorus chooses Pieria. Other sources mention Leibethra, Dion, Thracia or Lesbos.44

5 Omitted features Finally, it is interesting to mention the aspects of the myth that are omitted by Apollodorus. Of course, it would be too long to enumerate all of them, so I will just mention the most obvious features. First, it is significant that Apollodorus does not mention Orpheus’ homeland. According to the traditions, it could be either Thracia or Pieria. The fact that the

42 Cf. infra §7. 43 Santamaría Álvarez 2008. 44 Leibethra: Eratosth. Cat. 24, possibly taken from Aeschylus’ Bassarai; perhaps Conon (apud Phot. Bibl. 140a31; he states that he died in Leibethra but he does not mention the place of his tomb). Dion: Paus. 9.30.7; Diog. Laert. 1.5 (who claims that he was first in Leibethra). Thracia: Damag. Anth. Pal. 7.9. Lesbos: Hyg. Poet. Astr. 2.7. See Graf 1987, 86.



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author locates his tomb in the latter region could indicate that he had this place in mind. However, Apollodorus never alludes to it, probably because of the inaccuracy of the sources with regard to Orpheus’ birthplace.45 Second, he does not present Orpheus as a literary author, or a philosopher, a magus, a physician, an astrologist, a prophet, or as the inventor of writing, of musical techniques, of the lyre, of poetry, or as an inventor in general terms, that is, he omits the whole array of activities that were ascribed to Orpheus’ agency and certainly reflected in the works that were attributed to this mythical ­character.46 Finally, he does not discuss the marvellous travels of his head or the prophetic qualities that were attributed to it after reaching Lesbos.47 Exceptionally, the fact that Apollodorus does not present Orpheus as an Argonaut in 1.3.2 [14] can be explained in the light of the next passage (1.9.16 [111]), where he deals with this concrete aspect thoroughly. It is possible, then, that the author preferred to distribute the mythical material in these two references for reasons of economy within his own text.

6 Brief comparison with other texts 6.1 Strabo’s version As a contrasting element, it is interesting to compare Apollodorus’ version of the myth with two other short variants, which offer similar treatments and are very close in time. The first one (Strabo 7, fr. 18) was written between the 1st c. BCE and the 1st c. CE, that is, one hundred and fifty years before our text. The geographer refers to Pimplea and alludes to the myth of Orpheus as follows: ἐνταῦθα (sc. ἐν Πιμπλείᾳ) τὸν Ὀρφέα διατρῖψαί φησι τὸν Κίκονα, ἄνδρα γόητα, ἀπὸ μουσικῆς ἅμα καὶ μαντικῆς καὶ τῶν περὶ τὰς τελετὰς ὀργιασμῶν ἀγυρτεύοντα τὸ πρῶτον, εἶτ’ ἤδη καὶ μειζόνων ἀξιοῦντα ἑαυτὸν καὶ ὄχλον καὶ δύναμιν κατασκευαζόμενον· τοὺς μὲν οὖν ἑκουσίως ἀποδέχεσθαι, τινὰς δ’ ὑπιδομένους ἐπιβουλὴν καὶ βίαν ἐπισυστάντας διαφθεῖραι αὐτόν.

45 OF 919–938. 46 Literary author: OF 1018, in addition to the corpus ascribed to him. Philosopher: OF 1021– 1022; cf. Bernabé 2011. Magus and/or physician: OF 812–827; see Martín Hernández 2010. Astrologist: OF 718–803. Prophet: OF 1013–1016. Inventor of writing: OF 1026–1027. Creator of poetry: OF 1030. Inventor of the lyre as well as of several musical innovations: OF 1024–1025. Inventor in general terms: Pl. Leg. 677d (OF 1007). 47 OF 1052–1061; see Santamaría Álvarez 2008.

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Here (in Pimpleia) lived Orpheus, the Ciconian, it is said – a wizard who at first collected money from his music, together with his soothsaying and his celebration of the orgies connected with the mystic initiatory rites, but soon afterwards thought himself worthy of still greater things and procured for himself a throng of followers and power. Some, of course, received him willingly, but others, since they suspected a plot and violence, combined against him and killed him.48

Strabo offers no indication about the mythical genealogy of Orpheus. He also omits the marvellous qualities of his music, his contribution to the Argonautic expedition, his journey to Hades and his dismemberment. Thus, rather than presenting him as a mythical character, he describes Orpheus as a man with great musical – but not superhuman – skills, a ritual performer and a seer. According to Strabo, the foundation of the mysteries represents the success of a wandering priest. He provocatively ascribes to Orpheus the qualities of a Bacchic initiator of his own time (as he considers that readers must know the mythical version) and underlines the dangers of his performance, the reasons that prompted his death as a result of a ‘political’ ­operation. Elsewhere I have studied this version, comparing it to Livy’s account of the motivations of the Roman authorities during the scandal of the Bacchanalia.49

6.2 Pausanias’ version In the 2nd c. CE Pausanias, contemporarily with the author of the Bibliotheca, mentions the poets and musicians who were represented on Mount Helicon, such as Thamyris, Arion and Hesiod. After a gap, he introduces a brief digression to refer to Orpheus.50 Ὀρφεῖ δὲ τῷ Θρᾳκὶ πεποίηται μὲν παρεστῶσα αὐτῷ Τελετή... πολλὰ μὲν δὴ καὶ ἄλλα πιστεύουσιν οὐκ ὄντα Ἕλληνες καὶ δὴ καὶ Ὀρφέα Καλλιόπης τε εἶναι Μούσης καὶ οὐ τῆς Πιέρου καί οἱ τὰ θηρία ἰέναι πρὸς τὸ μέλος ψυχαγωγούμενα, ἐλθεῖν δὲ καὶ ἐς τὸν Ἅιδην ζῶντα αὐτὸν παρὰ τῶν κάτω θεῶν τὴν γυναῖκα αἰτοῦντα. ὁ δὲ Ὀρφεὺς ἐμοὶ δοκεῖν ὑπερεβάλετο ἐπῶν κόσμῳ τοὺς πρὸ αὐτοῦ καὶ ἐπὶ μέγα ἦλθεν ἰσχύος οἷα πιστευόμενος εὑρηκέναι τελετὰς θεῶν καὶ ἔργων ἀνοσίων καθαρμοὺς νόσων τε ἰάματα καὶ τροπὰς μηνιμάτων θείων. τὰς δὲ γυναῖκάς φασι τῶν Θρᾳκῶν ἐπιβουλεύειν μὲν αὐτῷ θάνατον, ὅτι σφῶν τοὺς ἄνδρας ἀκολουθεῖν ἔπεισεν αὐτῷ πλανωμένῳ, φόβῳ δὲ τῶν ἀνδρῶν οὐ τολμᾶν· ὡς δὲ ἐνεφορήσαντο οἴνου, ἐξεργάζονται τὸ τόλμημα. By the side of Orpheus the Thracian stands a statue of Telete, and around him are beasts of stone and bronze listening to his singing. There are many untruths believed by the Greeks,

48 Translation by Jones 1918–1935. 49 Bernabé 2002. 50 Paus. 9.30.4.



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one of which is that Orpheus was a son of the Muse Calliope, and not of the daughter of Pierus, that the beasts followed him fascinated by his songs, and that he went down alive to Hades to ask for his wife from the gods below. In my opinion Orpheus excelled his predecessors in the beauty of his verse, and reached a high degree of power because he was believed to have discovered mysteries, purification from sins, cures of diseases and means of averting divine wrath. But they say that the women of the Thracians plotted his death, because he had persuaded their husbands to accompany him in his wanderings, but dared not carry out their intention through fear of their husbands. Flushed with wine, however, they dared the deed.51

This version is somewhat similar to Strabo’s account. However, Pausanias rejects even more strongly the marvellous features of the legend of Orpheus. The Periegete claims that these aspects – filiation, power over the animals, journey to Hades – are fake, so he replaces them with the image of the character who, according to the euhemerist interpretation, would be the origin of the myth. Orpheus is, to Pausanias, just a skilful singer – but, again, not superhuman – who accomplished the tasks of an orpheotelestes. He disregards Strabo’s ‘political’ motivations of the bard’s death, alluding to a private reason that has to do with the women’s feeling of abandonment.

7 Conclusions In contrast to Strabo and Pausanias, who present “modernized” adaptations of the myth of Orpheus, that is, euhemerist, humanized and politicized, Apollodorus simply offers the aseptic and scholarly version of a mythographer: he does not intend to question the veracity of the traditions, so he just compiles them and produces the most unitary tale he can, a sort of “least common multiple” of the features contained in the oldest sources. Apollodorus avoids associating Orpheus with contemporary realities or, simply, with the real world. According to him, Orpheus has nothing to do with τελεταί or orpheotelestai, with seers and all sorts of fortunetellers who, still in his day, promised cures, salvation or happiness. The mythographer ignores the poetry that was commonly ascribed to him as well as the rest of his inventions.52 He does not even mention the head of Orpheus, which might be another link between the mythical bard and the later institution 51 Translation by Jones 1918–1935. 52 The anonymous referee of the paper wonders if the absence of references to ritual, magic etc. is a distant reflection of social standing of Orphic poetry in the classical period, according to which the early mythographers, Apollodorus’ ultimate sources, drew on mainstream epic and lyric not on suspect orgiastic poetry. I am grateful for this suggestion.

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of the oracle at Lesbos. Lastly, Apollodorus does not consider what we could call “touristic episodes” related to cities that claimed to have the tomb of Orpheus and ascribed great miracles to it in order to attract visitors (we find some references to these cities in other passages of Pausanias and later authors).53 Apollodorus tries not to associate Orpheus with activities that were, at that time, related to him: oracles, magic, medicine and literature. According to this author, Orpheus belongs to the distant world of myths and he is just a literary character who should not be confused with real individual characters or interpreted in modern and euhemerist terms.

Bibliography Bernabé, Alberto. Un ‘resumen de historia del orfismo’ en Strab. 7 fr. 18, in: Actas del X Congreso Español de Estudios Clásicos (Madrid: Ediciones Clásicas, 2002), III, 59–66. Bernabé, Alberto. Orfeo, una biografía compleja, Viajes de Orfeo and Las láminas de Olbia, in Orfeo y la tradición órfica: Un reencuentro, edited by Alberto Bernabé and Francesc Casadesús (Madrid: Akal, 2008a), 15–32, 59–74 and 537–546. Bernabé, Alberto. Orfeo y Eleusis. Synthesis 15 (2008b), 13–36. Bernabé, Alberto. Orfeo y la filosofía. Hypnos 27 (2011), 183–204. Bernabé, Alberto and Ana Isabel Jiménez San Cristóbal. Instructions for the Netherworld. The Orphic Gold Tablets (Leiden, Boston, Köln: Brill, 2011). Bowra, Maurice. Orpheus and Eurydice. CQ 46 (1952), 113–126 (= On Greek margins. Oxford: University Press, 1970, 213–232). Braswell, Bruce Karl. A Commentary on the Fourth Pythian Ode of Pindar (Berlin-New York: De Gruyter, 1988). Bremmer, Jan. Orpheus: from guru to gay, in: Orphisme et Orphée, en l’honneur de Jean Rudhardt, edited by Philippe Borgeaud (Genève: Droz, 1991), 13–30. Burkert, Walter. Religión griega, arcaica y clásica (Madrid: Abada, 2007). Cabrera, Paloma. Los seres híbridos. Imágenes de la alteridad en la Grecia Clásica, in: Seres híbridos en la mitología griega, edited by Alberto Bernabé and Jorge Pérez de Tudela (Madrid: Círculo de Bellas Artes, 2012), 11–48. Cuartero, Francesc J. Pseudo-Apol·lodor. Biblioteca. Vol. 1 (Barcelona: Fundació Bernat Metge, 2010). Carrière, Jean-Claude and Bertrand Massonie. La Bibliothèque d’Apollodore. Traduite, annotée et commentée (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1991). Debiasi, Andrea. Eumeli Corinthii fragmentum novum? ZPE 143 (2003), 1–5. Frazer, James George. Apollodorus, The Library (London: Heinemann and Cambridge Mass.: University Press, 1921). Graf, Fritz. Orpheus: A poet among men, in: Interpretations of Greek mythology, edited by Jan Bremmer (London & Sydney: Croom & Helm, 1987), 80–106.

53 See the passages in OF 1063–1069.



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Graf, Fritz and Sarah Iles Johnston. Ritual Texts for the Afterlife (London: Routledge, 2nd edition, 2013). Homolle, Théophile. Fouilles de Delphes, IV 1 (Paris: De Boccard, 1909). Jiménez San Cristóbal, Ana Isabel. Orfismo y dionisismo, in: Orfeo y la tradición órfica: Un reencuentro, edited by Alberto Bernabé and Francesc Casadesús (Madrid: Akal, 2008), 697–727. Jiménez San Cristóbal, Ana Isabel. Las sirenas, in: Seres híbridos en la mitología griega, edited by Alberto Bernabé and Jorge Pérez de Tudela (Madrid: Círculo de Bellas Artes, 2012), 113–151. Jones, Horace Leonard. The Geography of Strabo Library (London: Heinemann and Cambridge Mass.: University Press, 1917–1932). Jones, William Henry Samuel. Pausanias. Description of Greece (London: Heinemann and Cambridge Mass.: University Press, 1918–1935). Martín Hernández, Raquel. Orfeo y los magos. La literatura órfica, la magia y los misterios (Madrid: Abada, 2010). Obbink, Dirk. Poetry and the Mysteries, in: The Getty Hexameters. Poetry, Magic, and Mystery in Ancient Selinous, edited by Christopher A. Faraone and Dirk Obbink (Oxford: University Press, 2013). Ricciardelli, Gabriella. Inni Orfici (Milano: Mondadori, 2000). Robbins, Emmet. Famous Orpheus, in: Orpheus. The Metamorphosis of a Myth. edited by John Warden (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1982), 3–23. Santamaría Álvarez, Marco Antonio. La muerte de Orfeo y la cabeza profética, in: Orfeo y la tradición órfica: Un reencuentro, edited by Alberto Bernabé and Francesc Casadesús (Madrid: Akal, 2008), 105–135. Scarpi, Paolo. Apollodoro. I miti greci. Biblioteca (Milano: Mondadori, 2005). Villagra, Nereida. Asclepíades de Tragilo. Tragodoumena (Diss. Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona, 2012). Weicker, Georg. Seirenen, in: Ausführliches Lexikon der griechischen und römischen Mythologie, edited by Wilhelm Heinrich Roscher (Leipzig: Teubner, 1897–1902), vol. IV, 601–639.

Anna Santoni

9 Myths of Star and Constellation Origins in the Bibliotheca This paper concerns the catasterism of the Hyades and Callisto, the only two myths about constellation origins that we find in the Bibliotheca: it focuses on their common features and on their original characteristics with respect to the rest of the literature of catasterisms.1 The general absence of this kind of myths in the Bibliotheca deserves some preliminary reflection.

1 Astra Genealogy Despite the presence in the Bibliotheca of a great many people involved in celestial mythology (from Orion to the Pleiades, from Hercules to Perseus, the Dioscuri, Ganymede, Asclepius etc.), the text reveals a general lack of interest in the catasterisms of each one, with only the two exceptions mentioned above. Reasons for this choice are to be found in the coherent genealogical structure of the work on the one hand (it is oriented to the Troian War and organised in blocks of local myths), and, on the other hand, in the specific feature of catasterismic mythology, which focuses the stories on the constellations and has its literary space in connection with astronomical texts. Nonetheless we have to say that the origin of the stars has a place in the Biblio­ theca. The author found in his sources an archaic, comprehensive mythical story for this subject, and reproduces it at the beginning of his work. In the primordial genealogy there are Eos (Dawn), Helius (Sun) and Selene (Moon) all generated by Hyperion and Theia (Titans), and we read that the winds and the stars were generated by Eos and Astraeus, son of Crius and Eurybia: ἐγένετο δὲ καὶ Κρόνου καὶ Φιλύρας Χείρων διϕυὴς Κένταυρος, Ἠοῦς δὲ καὶ Ἀστραίου ἄνεμοι καὶ ἄστρα, Πέρσου δὲ καὶ Ἀστερίας Ἑκάτη, Πάλλαντος δὲ καὶ Στυγὸς Νίκη Κράτος Ζῆλος Βία (Apollod. Bibl. 1.2.4 [9]).

1 The systematic treatment of the mythical origin of constellations is developed in the Aratean commentaries after Eratosthenes’ Catasterisms, and preserved in different texts: Epitome, Frag­ menta Vaticana, Scholia in Aratum, Aratus Latinus, Scholia in Germanicum, Hyg. Poet. Astr. Anna Santoni, Pisa DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-009



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This is an archaic genealogy, well established in Hesiod’s Theogony. Θεία δ’ Ἠέλιόν τε μέγαν λαμπράν τε Σελήνην Ἠῶ θ’, ἣ πάντεσσιν ἐπιχθονίοισι ϕαείνει ἀθανάτοις τε θεοῖσι τοὶ οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἔχουσι, γείναθ’ ὑποδμηθεῖσ’ Ὑπερίονος ἐν ϕιλότητι. Κρείῳ δ’ Εὐρυβίη τέκεν ἐν ϕιλότητι μιγεῖσα Ἀστραῖόν τε μέγαν Πάλλαντά τε δῖα θεάων Πέρσην θ’, ὃς καὶ πᾶσι μετέπρεπεν ἰδμοσύνῃσιν. Ἀστραίῳ δ’ ‘Ηὼς ἀνέμους τέκε καρτεροθύμους, ἀργεστὴν Ζέϕυρον Βορέην τ’ αἰψηροκέλευθον καὶ Νότον, ἐν ϕιλότητι θεὰ θεῷ εὐνηθεῖσα. τοὺς δὲ μέτ’ ἀστέρα τίκτεν Ἑωσϕόρον Ἠριγένεια ἄστρά τε λαμπετόωντα, τά τ’ οὐρανὸς ἐστεϕάνωται.

(Hes. Theog. 371–383)

Apollodorean theogony is strongly influenced by, and generally recalls, the Theogony of Hesiod, even if it presents some differences.2 In our case the text has only been simplified, but with no relevant change with respect to the Hesiodic model.3 Apollodorus has omitted all the wind names, and also the name of Eosphorus, the star forecasting Dawn.4 We meet Eosphorus later, as Ceyce’s father, but nothing is said about his origin.5 ἄστρa is a comprehensive word: it means not only “stars,” but also “constellations,” as we can see from Aratus when he refers to the above passage of his beloved Hesiod. He writes that Virgo could be the daughter of that famous Astraeus who the ancients say was the father of astra. Yet, Virgo is not a star, but a constellation (and a large one). Ἀμϕοτέροισι δὲ ποσσὶν ὕπο σκέπτοιο Βοώτεω Παρθένον, ἥ ῥ’ ἐν χειρὶ ϕέρει Στάχυν αἰγλήεντα. Εἴτ’ οὖν Ἀστραίου κείνη γένος, ὅν ῥά τέ ϕασιν

2 West 1983, 121–129 and Most in this volume. Considering some of these differences, West suggests the Orphic rhapsodic theogony as a source of the Apollodorean theogony, but he does not discuss Eos and Astraeus and their descendants. It seems reasonable that Apollodorus could have found materials from lost theogonies in his compilatory sources. 3 Cuartero 2010, 84, n.1; for another case of simplified genealogy from Hesiod, cf. Cuartero 2010, 94, n. 28. 4 It was the planet Venus at dawn, the same called Hesperus at sunset; the ancient Greeks distinguished them as two different stars; it was only from the 5th century that they realized it was a single star; at Apollodorus’ time Eosphorus was no longer a good example of star: it is also possible that he (or his source) avoided mentioning it for this reason. 5 Apollod. Bibl. 1.7.4 [52].

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ἄστρων ἀρχαῖοι πατέρ’ ἔμμεναι, εἴτε τευ ἄλλου, εὔκηλος ϕορέοιτο.6

(Aratus, Phaen. 96–100)

We could surmise that, in the Bibliotheca, the origin of the stars and constellations has already been treated and concluded with the descendants of Astraeus and Eos.

2 Callisto and the Hyades What should we say then of the catasterismic tales of Callisto and of the Hyades? Why did Apollodorus include them in his work? He ignored all the other forty or so constellations, and had already told of the origin of all the stars. Why just these two? And from which source? It seems to me that we can only submit hypotheses, but I would like to recall attention to some original aspects of each myth and to some common aspects of both stories.

2.1 Callisto Callisto, mentioned in the Hesiodic corpus7 and in other archaic authors such as Eumelus,8 in Pherecydes and in some authors of local stories,9 has little consideration in Attic drama: Aeschylus wrote a tragedy on this subject of which the title and a small fragment are preserved;10 and in Euripides’ Helen she appears in a few verses as one of the women loved by Zeus who received a better destiny than Helen’s mother.11 Callisto and her story became very popular in the fourth century and in Hellenistic literature, both Greek and Roman.12 In the first half of

6 Hes. Theog. 375–382. Centuries later and after the systematic collections of catasterisms the question could appear more complex than in the Hesiodic Theogony. Achilles Tatius tried to delimit Aristaeus’ role in respect to other agents in defining the starry sky: Ach. Tat. Isag. 1.44: ὁ δὲ ῎Αρατος τὴν μὲν θέσιν τῶν ὅλων εἰς Δία ἔοικεν ἀναϕέρειν, τὴν δὲ γέννησιν καὶ ἔννοιαν εἰς ’Αστραῖον. 7 Callisto was probably mentioned more than once in the Hesiodic corpus: Hes. fr. 163 M-W. For Callisto’s story and sources, cf. Gantz 1993, 725–729. 8 Eumelus fr. 14 Bernabé. 9 Pherec. fr. 157 Fowler, cf. Schol. Eur. Or. 1646; Ariaethus, FGrH 316F2; Asius, fr. 9 Bernabé. 10 Aesch. test. 78 Radt and p. 216. 11 Eur. Hel. 375–377. 12 For the 4th cent., cf. the comic poet Amphis, fr. 46 Kassel-Austin. The first literary document of Callisto’s catasterism is Callimachus (fr. 632 Pfeiffer); then her catasterism is common in the celestial myths in Greek and Latin literature, already in Eratosth. Cat. 2, ed. Pàmias-Zucker 2013.



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the fourth century Callisto is clearly identified in vase painting for the first time: four Apulian red figured vases represent her story.13 Coins from Orchomenos, also dating from the first half of the fourth century, show Callisto, Arcas and Artemis;14 others from Pheneus represent Hermes with the baby Arcas on his arm.15 Two factors contribute to the celebrity of the myth: the growing political importance of the Arcadic Koinon in the fourth century,16 culminating with the battle of Leuctra, and catasterismic literature. The Arcadians made the story of Callisto their own national myth. They considered Callisto and Zeus’ son Arcas their national ancestors.17 The monument dedicated by the Arcadians in Delphi to celebrate their victory over the Lacedemonians is clear evidence of the importance of this myth for the Arcadians and also allows us to judge its popularity (Image 1).

Image 1: Base of the Arcadians’ offering in Delphi. Fouilles de Delphes, III.1.5, Paris 1911

The monument is described by Pausanias,18 and part of it has been recovered and published.19 It celebrated the success of Arcadian raids in Lacedemonian territories during the first descent of Epaminondas into the Peloponnese (369 BCE).

13 Trendall 1977. 14 Jost 1985, 115–116; pl. 31. 15 Jost 1985, 34–35; pl. 2. 16 Pretzler 2008. 17 Pausanias (8.9.3-4 and 8.36.7) mentions the burial place of Arcas near the altar of Hera in Mantinea and says that Arcas’ bones had been translated from Maenalus according to a Delphic oracle; on the political value of this tomb cf. De Luna 2009. 18 Paus. 10.9.5-6: Pausanias writes that the statues were offerings of the Tegeans; actually the inscription demonstrates the monument was meant as an offering of the Arcadians. 19 Fouilles de Delphes, III.I (edited by Bourguet), Paris 1911, p. 4–21; Bommelaer and Laroche 1991, 104–106.

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The placement of the monument had to be chosen carefully: entering the precinct of the sanctuary everyone could see, immediately on the right, the base with nine bronze statues: Apollo first, then Callisto, Nike, Arcas, Apheidas, Elatus, Azan, Triphylus, Erasus.20 The monument was just in front of Lysander’s dedication for the victory of Aegospotami:21 it reminded everyone passing by that Lacedaimon was no more aporthetos, as Lysander proudly declared in dedicatory verses, and that it was the people of Arcadia who had proven their worth against the Lacedemonians.22 The visitors of the temple could read the inscription: Πύθι’ Ἄπολλον [ἄ]ναξ, τάδ’ [ἀγάλματ’ ἔ]δ[ωκεν ἀπαρχὰς] αὐτόχθων ἱερᾶς λαὸς [ἀπ’ Ἀρκαδί]ας· Νίκηγ Καλλιστώ τε Λυκαον[ίδ]α τῆι πο[τ’ ἐμίχθη] Ζεύς, ἱεροῦ δὲ γένους Ἀρκ[άδ’] ἔϕυσε κόρ[ον]· ἐκ τοῦδ’ ἦν Ἔλατος καὶ Ἀϕε[ίδ]ας ἠδὲ κα[ὶ Ἀζάν], τοὺς δ’ Ἐρατὼ νύμϕα γείνα[τ’ ἐ]ν Ἀρκαδί[αι]· Λαοδάμεια δ’ ἔτικτε Τρίϕυλον, παῖς Ἀ[μύκλαντος]· Γογγύλου ἐκ κούρας δ’ ἦν Ἀμιλοῦς Ἔρα[σος]· τῶνδε σοι ἐκγενέται Λακεδαίμονα δη[ιώσαντες] Ἀρκάδες ἔστησαν μνῆμ’ ἐπιγινομένοις.23 Apollo Pythios, my Lord, the autochthonous people of sacred Arcadia dedicate these statues as primal offerings: Nike and Callisto daughter of Lycaon, with whom Zeus once united and fathered the baby Arcas, of sacred descent: from him Elatus, Apheidas and Azan came; they were born of Erato, the nymph, in Arcadia. Laodamia Amyclas’ daughter bore Triphylus. From Gongylus’ daughter Amilo Erasus was born. Descendants of all these, the Arcadians, having plundered Lacedaemon, for you raised this monument to posterity

In the greatest national Greek sanctuary the Arcadians reminded visitors of their victory over Lacedaemon and introduced themselves as the descendants of Callisto and Zeus. They put this myth at the roots of their ethnic identity. Another cause of the popularity of the myth was its presence in the celestial mythography, as the origin of the constellation Ursa major. Callisto as Ursa major is first mentioned by Callimachus. It is also noted on an Apulian oenochoe (Malibu, Paul Getty Museum, inv. 72 AE 128; see image 2) of the second quarter of the fourth century, which represents Callisto’s transformation into a bear and the saving of the baby Arcas by Hermes. A short cloak embroidered with a star pattern and draped over Callisto’s thighs reminds us of the catasterism and is one of the oldest iconographic pieces of evidence of Callisto as a constellation. Callisto, identified with Ursa Major, is forever linked to the most famous of the constellations and enjoys great popularity in celestial mythography up to the Medieval Age.

20 The figures are all connected with different local districts in Arcadia: Nielsen 2002, 249–250. 21 Paus. 10.9.7-11. 22 Luraghi 2008, 212–213, n. 14. 23 CEG 824.



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Image 2: Callisto’s cloak. Apulian Red-Figure Chous (Shape 3), about 360 B.C., Terracotta 16.8 × 8.4 cm (6 5/8 × 3 5/16 in.), attributed to the Black Fury Group (Greek (Apulian), active early 300s BCE), The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles.

I would like to focus on some aspects of the myth of the Bibliotheca that seem interesting for the following reasons: – they are original in the Apollodorean tale; – they are different from the Eratosthenic versions;24 – they reveal Arcadian local traditions; – they resemble the other catasterism in the Bibliotheca, the Hyades. Εὔμηλος δὲ καί τινες ἕτεροι λέγουσι Λυκάονι καὶ θυγατέρα Καλλιστὼ γενέσθαι· ‘Ησίοδος μὲν γὰρ αὐτὴν μίαν εἶναι τῶν νυμϕῶν λέγει, ῎Ασιος δὲ Νυκτέως, Φερεκύδης δὲ Κητέως. αὕτη σύνθηρος ’Αρτέμιδος οὖσα, τὴν αὐτὴν ἐκείνῃ στολὴν ϕοροῦσα, ὤμοσεν αὐτῇ μεῖναι παρθένος. Ζεὺς δὲ ἐρασθεὶς ἀκούσῃ συνευνάζεται, εἰκασθείς, ὡς μὲν ἔνιοι λέγουσιν, ’Αρτέμιδι, ὡς δὲ ἔνιοι, ’Απόλλωνι. βουλόμενος δὲ ῞Ηραν λαθεῖν εἰς ἄρκτον μετεμόρϕωσεν αὐτήν. ῞Ηρα δὲ ἔπεισεν ῎Αρτεμιν ὡς ἄγριον θηρίον κατατοξεῦσαι. εἰσὶ δὲ οἱ λέγοντες ὡς

24 Cf. Eratosth. Cat. 1 and 8 ed. Pàmias & Zucker 2013 (with notes).

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῎Αρτεμις αὐτὴν κατετόξευσεν ὅτι τὴν παρθενίαν οὐκ ἐϕύλαξεν. ἀπολομένης δὲ Καλλιστοῦς Ζεὺς τὸ βρέϕος ἁρπάσας ἐν ’Αρκαδίᾳ δίδωσιν ἀνατρέϕειν Μαίᾳ, προσαγορεύσας ’Αρκάδα· τὴν δὲ Καλλιστὼ καταστερίσας ἐκάλεσεν ἄρκτον. (Apollod. Bibl. 3.8.2 [100–101])

Callisto is a nymph for Hesiod and is Lycaon’s daughter for Eumelus. The text of the Bibliotheca contains a rich synthesis of possible fathers for Callisto;25 it confirms the archaic version of Lycaon’s paternity, but attributes it to Eumelus, not to Hesiod, as we read in many other sources, including the Eratosthenic tradition.26 Hesiod is mentioned here only to inform us that Callisto was one of the nymphs, a detail that we do not find anywhere else and that is not easy to reconcile with Lycaon’s fatherhood.27 As for Hesiod’s consistency, it is generally accepted that both facts could coexist in his corpus, as they were mentioned in two different works: Callisto as a nymph in the Catalogue of Women and Callisto as Lycaon’s daughter in the Astronomia;28 but it remains a hypothesis. In mythography Callisto is certainly surrounded by nymphs:29 according to Pausanias,30 Lycaon’s wife was Nonacris, which is why Callimachus calls Callisto Nonacrine31 and the same Callimachus mentioned Nonacris in his work About the nymphs,32 even if this does not allow us to be certain that she was a nymph. In Polygnotus’ frescoes in the Delphian Lesche, Callisto was represented lying on a bear skin,33 her feet resting on Nomia’s knees, the Arcadian nymph who gave her name to the Nomian Mountains.34 Two nymphs are mentioned as wives of Callisto’s son Arcas: Erato and Chrysopelia.35 To sum up, there are many nymphs crossing Callisto’s story, but only Apollodorus’ text contains the Hesiodic reference that she was a nymph.

25 Lycaon, cf. Eumelus fr. 14 Bernabé; his son Ceteus, cf. Pherec. fr. 157 Fowler; Nycteus, probably Nyctimus, also Lycaon’s son, cf. Asius fr. 9 Bernabé. 26 Eratosth. Cat. 1; 8 ed. Pàmias & Zucker 2013; and others, e. g. Callim. fr. 632 Pfeiffer; Theoc. 1.125. 27 The status of the daughters of mythical kings can be ambiguous, but this does not entail that Callisto could be considered a nymph, as she is Lycaon’s daughter. Cf. Larson 2001, 7–8; Callisto could be considered a nymph, as she is one of Artemis’ followers. Cf. also Gantz 1993, 139–142. 28 Cf. West 1985, 91–93; cf. also Sale 1962, 136; Franz 1890, 237 n.1. 29 West 1985, 92 suggests that the nymphs played a relevant role in the Arcadian section of the Catalogue of Women; this is also true in later literature and art. 30 Paus. 8.17.6. She left her name to the ancient polis Nonacris, known for the waters of Styx; cf. Hdt. 6.74. The story of Callisto and her catasterism took place at Nonacris, according to Araethus of Tegea (Hyg. Poet. Astr. 2.1.6). 31 Callim. Aet. 17 Pfeiffer + SH 250–251. 32 Callim. fr. 413 Pfeiffer. 33 The bear-skin can indicate she was a huntress, or suggest her metamorphosis. 34 Paus. 10.31.10. 35 Erato: CEG 824.6; Paus. 8.4.2; Chrysopeleia: Eumelus, fr. 15 Bernabé.



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I have to admit the sense of this phrase presents a problem for me: it is inserted in the middle of a series of fathers’ names, and is introduced by μὲν γάρ, which always has an asseverative/explicative value in Apollodorus. If the phrase is meant to confirm or to explain what it is said before, that Callisto is Lycaon’s daughter, I do not understand the text. The phrase seems to be the result of a too synthetic compilation, and there may be something omitted in this synthesis. After all, Callisto’s tale has other passages in which we read a synthesis of different versions of the story.36 Regardless of the way the phrase should be interpreted, it preserves original information that we owe to the Bibliotheca, and that we do not find in the Eratosthenic tradition or in the rest of the literature about Callisto.

Zeus en travesti: Artemis or Apollo? That Zeus assumed a different identity (a common feature in the stories of his affairs) to seduce the young huntress Callisto, changing his form into Artemis’, of whom Callisto was a devoted follower, is a well known story, which was put onto the stage in the fourth cent. BCE by the comic poet Amphis.37 What is totally original in the Bibliotheca is the version according to which Zeus took on the semblance of Apollo. Such a variant of Zeus’ disguise could have easily originated in comedy, just as in the aforementioned Amphis play, but in fact we do not find the presence of Apollo in Callisto’s story in any other literary source.38 In the visual arts we meet Apollo together with Callisto in two cases.39 The first is the above mentioned monument of the Arcadians in Delphi. Callisto was represented there right beside Apollo.40 As the monument was a votive 36 Apollodorus shows elsewhere an effort to keep together different versions about different aspects of the myth: for example, he tries to recover the ancient central role of Artemis in the story, writing that, “according to someone else” Artemis did not kill Callisto following Hera’s suggestion, but because she had broken the vow to keep her virginity. This kind of synthesis is a complex procedure, and we have also to consider the derivative character of the Bibliotheca. Cf. Cameron 2004, 19–22; 94–104 and Cuartero 2010, 41. 37 Amphis fr. 46 Kassel-Austin (cf. Eratosth. Cat. 1); see also Ov. Met. 2.425; Schol. Stat. Theb. 3.685; Serv. Aen. 1.744. 38 Schol. Lycoph. 480.11b-16b cannot be taken into consideration; cf. FGrH 262F12 and Henrichs 1987, 263, n. 84. 39 It is discussed the interpretation of the scene in the fragments of a calyx-crater in Basel, Cahn coll. HC 501–506, 440-420 BCE (cf. LIMC V/1, 943, nr. 18 and II/2, 256, pl. 1034). But see Simon 1983, 87–88, pl. 25. 40 Both statues, different from all the others, were by the same sculptor, Pausanias of Apollonia, cf. Paus. 10.9.5-6.

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Image 3: Apollo on stage. Apulian crater, Cremona, Museo civico Ala Ponzone, Coll. Dordoni inv. nr. 23. Cf. Stenico 1977, 80, 81, 83.

offering to Apollo, the presence of the statue of the god does not imply a different version of the myth; but people visiting the sanctuary did not see Zeus beside the Arcadian princess and her descendant: they saw Apollo. An Apulian red figured crater in the Museo Civico of Cremona,41 dating to roughly the same period as the Arcadian offering at Delphi, or possibly a few years later, represents a dramatic scene whose characters are clearly recognisable 41 Stenico 1977; Trendall 1977; Rossi 1981, 32. Cf. images 3, 4, 5 and 6.



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Image 4: Apollo on stage. Apulian crater, Cremona, Museo civico Ala Ponzone, Coll. Dordoni inv. nr. 23. Cf. Stenico 1977, 80, 81, 83.

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Image 5: Apollo on stage. Apulian crater, Cremona, Museo civico Ala Ponzone, Coll. Dordoni inv. nr. 23. Cf. Stenico 1977, 80, 81, 83.



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Image 6: Apollo on stage. Apulian crater, Cremona, Museo civico Ala Ponzone, Coll. Dordoni inv. nr. 23. Cf. Stenico 1977, 80, 81, 83.

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from the labels: Callisto in the middle holds a spear in her right hand (is she defending herself and the baby?), while Hermes has taken the baby Arcas in order to save him and holds him with the corner of his mantle; above Callisto there is Lyssa, the goddess of violent rage: she is raising her torches.42 On the left there is Artemis: the goddess is looking towards Callisto, her right arm is lifted up in the direction of Lyssa and Callisto, and she has her bow in her left, lowered hand; behind Artemis, Apollo is looking in the same direction. Why is he there? Is he there only to fill the space in the vase and to complete the scene? According to the common versions of the myth there is no reason for his presence. What we can say is that the tale in the Bibliotheca where Zeus raped Callisto in the guise of Apollo encourages us to reflect on the relations between illustrations and texts. Let us notice that, despite the general dramatic context of the scene, the posture of the god is relaxed: his elbow rests on the shoulder of his sister, his right leg is crossed in front of the left, and he seems to express his personal non-involvement in the matters of Callisto.

Zeus transforms Callisto into a bear The decision of Zeus to transform Callisto into a bear is another peculiar aspect of the tale in the Bibliotheca. The transformation is generally due to Artemis or to Hera. Callimachus, for example, attributes it to Hera.43 In the ancient versions of the myth Artemis seems to be the central deity in the story.44 In the Eratosthenic tradition too, Zeus is never responsible for the transformation of Callisto, which is due to Artemis.45 42 In Euripides’ Hercules Lyssa was sent by Hera against Hercules and by Artemis against Acteon: Gantz 1993, 478–481. She is not infrequent in dramatic scenes of other Apulian vases: Trendall 1977, 100, n. 9. 43 Callim. fr. 632 (Schol. [D] Il.18.487) Ζεὺς Καλλιστοῦς τῆς Λυκάονος ἐρασθεὶς, ἐμίσγετο αὐτῇ λανθάνων ῞Ηραν. ἐπιγνοῦσα δὲ ἡ θεὸς μετέβαλλεν αὐτὴν εἰς ἄρκτον, καὶ ὡς θηρίον Ἀρτέμιδι προσέταξε τοξεῦσαι. Ζεὺς δὲ εἰς οὐρανὸν αὐτὴν ἀναγαγὼν, πρώτην (προτερον?) κατηστέρισεν. ἡ ἱστορία παρὰ Καλλιμάχῳ. 44 Cf. Certamen Hom. et Hes. 118, αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δμήθη γάμῳ ῎Αρτεμις ἰοχέαιρα Καλλιστὼ κατέπεϕνεν ἀπ’ ἀργυρέοιο βιοῖο. 45 See the synoptic table in Henrichs 1987, 263. A version similar to this one in the Bibliotheca is in Hyg. Poet. Astr. 2.1.4: Sed alii dicunt, cum Callisto Iuppiter esset in siluam persecutus, Iunonem suspicatam id quod euenit, contendisse ut eum manifesto diceret deprehendisse. Iouem autem, quo facilius suum peccatum tegeretur, in ursae speciem conuersam reliquisse. Iunonem autem in eo loco pro uirgine ursam inuenisse; quam Dianae uenanti, ut eam interficeret, demonstrasse. Quod factum ut perspiceretur Iouem aegre tulisse, effigiem ursae stellis figuratam constituisse. Cf., too, Lib. Narrat. 12.



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The conduct of Zeus, who transforms the girl into a bear in order to conceal his adultery from his wife, recalls another one of his love affairs: the transformation of Io into a cow;46 the story is told just in the same terms in the Biblio­ theca.47 Incidentally, the two women also have in common the catasterism, as both were identified with a constellation: Callisto with Ursa major (and minor), Io with Taurus,48 even if the latter is not mentioned in A ­ pollodorus. Furthermore, in the story of his love for Io, Zeus is represented as an unfaithful husband who tries to avoid his wife’s rage, transforming the unfortunate lover into an animal and leaving it to the fury of his wife. From this perspective, the version of Callisto’s story in the Bibliotheca with the central role of Zeus and Hera, and the marginality of Artemis, seems to be trivialized as a part of a series of stories whose central theme was Zeus’ love affairs: the tragic myth of the break of the virginity vow has been debased into one of the many vaudevillian and bourgeois adventures of the “divine couple”.

Callisto is dead According to the Bibliotheca Callisto really died while, according to celestial mythography, she was transformed into a constellation by Zeus in order to save her from death when her son, and/or some Arcadians, were going to kill her.49 Like the Bibliotheca, the Arcadians also told of the death of the princess and showed her burial-place50 in Tricolonoi to visitors, as they did with Pausanias,51 who notes the incongruence of the two versions and tries to reconcile them by reducing the catasterism to an honorary use of Callisto’s name for the stars.52 46 Common aspects of the two stories were already considered in the 4th cent.; the two were represented together in statues on the Acropolis at Athens, by Deinomenes; cf. Paus. 1.25.5: γυναῖκας δὲ πλησίον Δεινομένης ’Ιὼ τὴν ’Ινάχου καὶ Καλλιστὼ τὴν Λυκάονος πεποίηκεν, αἷς ἀμϕοτέραις ἐστὶν ἐς ἅπαν ὅμοια διηγήματα ἔρως Διὸς καὶ ῞Ηρας ὀργὴ καὶ ἀλλαγὴ τῇ μὲν ἐς βοῦν, Καλλιστοῖ δὲ ἐς ἄρκτον. 47 Apollod. Bibl. 2.1.3 [5–6]. ῾Ησίοδος δὲ καὶ ’Ακουσίλαος Πειρῆνος αὐτήν ϕασιν εἶναι. ταύτην ἱερωσύνην τῆς ῞Ηρας ἔχουσαν Ζεὺς ἔϕθειρε. ϕωραθεὶς δὲ ὑϕ’ ῞Ηρας τῆς μὲν κόρης ἁψάμενος εἰς βοῦν μετεμόρϕωσε λευκήν, ἀπωμόσατο δὲ ταύτῃ μὴ συνελθεῖν· διό ϕησιν ‘Ησίοδος οὐκ ἐπισπᾶσθαι τὴν ἀπὸ τῶν θεῶν ὀργὴν τοὺς γινομένους ὅρκους ὑπὲρ ἔρωτος. ῞Ηρα δὲ αἰτησαμένη παρὰ Διὸς τὴν βοῦν ϕύλακα αὐτῆς κατέστησεν ῎Αργον τὸν πανόπτην ... 48 The catasterism is referred to Eratosthenes in Schol. Germ. BP, p. 74 20 Eratosthenes dicit bovem esse, quae fuit Io. 49 Eratosth. Cat.1; 8 ed. Pàmias & Zucker 2013; Hyg. Poet. Astr. 2.4. 50 Cf. Jost 1985, pp. 406. 51 Paus. 8.35.8. 52 Paus. 8.3.6 ἔχοιεν δ’ ἂν καὶ ἄλλως τὸ ὄνομα οἱ ἀστέρες ἐπὶ τιμῇ τῇ Καλλιστοῦς, ἐπεὶ τάϕον γε αὐτῆς ἀποϕαίνουσιν οἱ ’Αρκάδες.

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Image 7: Callisto’s slaughter by Artemis. Babelon, Traité des monnaies grecques et romaines 2.3 (1916) pl. 226, 15–17.

Callisto’s slaughter by Artemis is also represented on coins from Orchomenos, dating to the fourth century BCE.53

Arcas’ survival and his descendants The last aspect of the story that I shall discuss is the survival of Arcas, whose destiny is totally separated from that of his mother in the Bibliotheca. In the Catasterismi, and in celestial mythology, Arcas was transformed into a constellation, Bootes, when still young, together with the mother. The genealogical interest of the Bibliotheca is evident: just after Callisto’s story, the text continues with the numerous descendants of Arcas. The presence of Maia as the nurse who received the rescued baby in custody is noteworthy. She reminds us of her son Hermes; we have already met the god in the rescue of the baby Arcas in the crater of Cremona and in the version of the myth in Pausanias,54 where we read that Hermes was entrusted with the rescue by Zeus himself. Hermes’ role in the myth was celebrated in coins from Pheneus: the god is represented with the baby who is trying to touch his petasos.55

53 Jost 1985, 407; Schefold 1981, 230, fig. 317–318. Cf. image 7. 54 Paus. 8.3.6-7; the account has many aspects in common with the Bibliotheca: Zeus and Hera are protagonists, but it is Hera who transformed Callisto into a bear. 55 Jost 1985, 34–35; 427, n. 2; 448–449, pl. 2. Cf. image 8.



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Image 8: Hermes and Arcas. Coin from Pheneus. Babelon, Traité des monnaies grecques et romaines 2.3 (1916) pl. 225, 6–7.

In the Bibliotheca, Callisto’s story presents some aspects matching the local traditions as we know them in the fourth century: the presence of Maia (Hermes’ mother); Callisto’s death; Arcas’ survival and his numerous descendants. This is perfectly coherent with the genealogical interest of Apollodorus and his tendency to group myths in regional sections. It confirms the use of materials from local sources. As the story of Callisto ends with her death, the catasterism seems a pure addition.

2.2 The Hyades The catasterism of the Hyades is shorter and scantier in details.56 It is connected with Dionysus’ rescue from the fury of Hera and it comes after another account of Zeus’ son, which ends with the institution of the Isthmian Games: Zeus took the baby Dionysus, just after his birth, and gave him to Hermes, who delivered him to Ino and Athamas with the request they raise him as a girl. But Hera punished the couple with madness: Athamas killed Learchus, hunting him as if a stag, and Ino killed Melicertes, in honour of whom Sisyphus established the Isthmian games. At this point, the text continues: 56 The Hyades are mentioned for the first time in Il. 18.486; Hes. Op. 615. But they are presented just as a constellation, and not as mythological figures. Cf. Gantz 1993, 140, 218; Fowler 2013, 371–377.

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Διόνυσον δὲ Ζεὺς εἰς ἔριφον ἀλλάξας τὸν ῞Ηρας θυμὸν ἔκλεψε, καὶ λαβὼν αὐτὸν Ἑρμῆς πρὸς νύμφας ἐκόμισεν ἐν Νύσῃ κατοικούσας τῆς Ἀσίας, ἃς ὕστερον Ζεὺς καταστερίσας ὠνόμασεν ῾Υάδας (Apollod. Bibl. 3.4.3 [29]).

The catasterism shows differences with the Eratosthenic version of the story, as we find it in a short fragment57 and as it is preserved in Hyginus:58 it is the nymphs of Dodona who took care of the baby; there is neither mention of Hermes nor of the transformation of the baby into a goat.59 The Bibliotheca preserves a very ancient version (as old as the Homeric Hymn to Dionysus),60 according to which the nymphs of Nysa took care of Zeus’s son. That Dionysus spent his early childhood in Nysa is a common version,61 also strengthened by a supposed etymological relation between the name of the place and the name of the god. But placing Nysa in Asia is less common, as Frazer noted in his commentary.62 No doubt Nysa is a mythical place located here and there: in Boeotia, Africa, Libya, Ethiopia, Caucasus, India.63 It seems possible to me that, as Scarpi remarks, the choice of Asia could be connected with the arrival of the god from the East.64 In the short story concerning the Hyades, it is possible to note that the Bibliotheca has a different source from the Eratosthenic ones concerning the catasterism. Also interesting are other points common to both catasterisms in the Bibliotheca. Zeus is likewise the protagonist for the Hyades’ account: he transforms someone into an animal to protect them from the hatred of his wife. Also in this case the centre of the story is an unfaithful husband and a furious wife. Similarly, there is an illegitimate son to be saved, Dionysus, while the mother, Semele, dies and the baby is rescued by Hermes65 and Maia.

57 Eratosth. Cat. 14 ed. Pàmias & Zucker 2013 (Fragmenta Vaticana): τοῦ δὲ Ταύρου τὸ μὲν μέτωπον αἱ ‘Υάδες καλούμεναι περιέχουσιν, ἅς φησι Φερκύδης Αθηναῖος τιθηνοὺς εἶναι τοῦ Διονύσου αἵτινες Δωδωνίδες νύμφαι ἐκαλοῦντο. Cf. Pàmias 2013. 58 Hyg. Poet. Astr. 2.21; according to Hyginus in Pherecydes (fr. 90 Fowler) the nymphs of Dodona (chased by Lycurgus) took Dionysus to Ino: a reversed sequence of the facts with respect to Apollodorus. 59 This is characteristic of the god; cf. Eur. Bacch. 1017–1019. 60 Hymn. Hom. Bacch. 1–11, where there is no mention of Hermes and Zeus himself delivers the baby to the nymphs. 61 A parallel version, including Hermes but not the catasterism, is found in Diod. Sic. 4.2.3, where Nysa is placed between Phoenicia and the Nile. 62 Frazer 1921, 321–322. 63 Cf. Eust. Il. 6.33. 64 Scarpi 1996, 549 65 The image of Hermes with baby Arcas in the Apulian crater of Cremona (Trendall 1977, 99, n. 2) recalls the image of Hermes saving Dionysus in an Attic hydria (Beazley, CVA 1, pl. 47).



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3 Conclusions The mythical origin of constellations has a completely marginal place in the immense congeries of myths that the Bibliotheca preserves and organizes. But this part of the world, stars and constellations, has not been omitted by the author. The subject is introduced and defined through the primordial genealogy of Eos and Astraeus, which is meant to include all the stars (as Eosphorus’ case reveals). The catasterism of the Hyades and Callisto are two exceptions. But their presence can be explained. Callisto represents the most popular constellation, Ursa major: for the Greeks it never went below the horizon, i. e., it was always visible and it was under its guidance that the ships of Greece set sail to cross the seas for centuries.66 From this point of view, the catasterism of Callisto could be considered a must in a mythographical text, if the author wanted to leave some sign of his knowledge of celestial mythography. From the genealogical perspective, which is dominant in the Bibliotheca, Callisto and her account deserved a detailed treatment, as his son Arcas is the ancestor of the Arcadians. It is understandable that the author chooses to narrate the story according to the local version that Callisto has to die. The addition of the catasterism, at the end of Callisto’s story, is probably due to the great popularity of the constellation myth. As for the Hyades, their catasterism seems a detail that the author found among the stories about the birth and childhood of Dionysus. But why did he choose to reproduce it? Since we find the Hyades mentioned first as a constellation67 and later as mythological figures, we can suggest that, in this case, Apollodorus considered the catasterism a basic element of their mythological identity. If our approach is correct, the two cases of catasterism in the Bibliotheca are not to be considered the simple result of a mechanical process of aggregation of information, but could instead reveal a certain level of elaboration and selection of data in the composition of the work.

66 In Latin authors her story is also considered a must, also in mythological texts. In Ovid’s Metamorphoses, there are very few catasterisms: one is Callisto, another one is Ariadne’s crown, cf. Cameron 2004, 22. In Hyginus’ Fabulae also we find the catasterism of Callisto (Fab. 177), and even a catalogue of the stars. 67 The Hyades owe their huge popularity to the fact that they announced seasonal rains; their name was connected to ὕειν, Schol. Arat. 171; Eust. Il. 4.225. In Hyg. Poet. Astron. 2.21 different catasterisms are preserved.

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Bibliography Bommelaer, Jean François and Didier Laroche. Guide de Delphes. Le site (Site et monuments VII) (Paris: de Boccard, 1991). Cameron, Alan. Greek Mythography in the Roman World (Oxford: University Press, 2004). Cook, Arthur Bernard. Zeus. A Study in Ancient Religion (Cambridge: University Press, 1914– 1940). Cuartero, Francesc J. Pseudo-Apollodor. Biblioteca. Volum I (Barcelona: Fundació Bernat Metge 2010). Cuartero, Francesc J. Pseudo-Apollodor. Biblioteca. Volum II (Barcelona: Fundació Bernat Metge 2012). De Luna, Maria Elena. Il mito di Callisto: tradizione e storia locale, in: Tradizione e trasmissione degli storici greci frammentari. In ricordo di Silvio Accame, edited by E. Lanzillotta, V. Costa, G. Ottone (Tivoli: Tored, 2009), 617–632. Fowler, Robert L. Early Greek Mythography. Volume II: Commentary (Oxford: University Press, 2013). Franz, Reinhold Hermann. De Callistus Fabula. Leipziger Studien zur classischen Philologie 12 (Leipzig: Hirschfeld, 1890), 235–365. Frazer, James George. Apollodorus. The Library (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1921). Fouilles de Delphes, III.I, edited by Émile Bourguet (Paris: de Boccard, 1911), 4–21 Gantz, Timothy. Early Greek Myth. A Guide to Literary and Artistic Sources (Baltimore & London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993) Hansen, Peter Allan. Carmina Epigraphica Graeca saeculi IVa. Chr. n. (Berlin & New York, De Gruyter, 1989). Harder, Annette. Callimachus. Aetia (Oxford: University Press, 2012) Henrichs, Albert. Three Approaches to Greek Mythography, in: Interpretations of Greek Mythology, edited by Jan Bremmer (London: Routledge, 1987), 242–277 Jost, Madeleine. Sanctuaries et cultes d’Arcadie (Paris: Vrin, 1985). Larson, Jennifer. Greek Nymphs: Myth, Cult, Lore (Oxford: University Press, 2001). Maggiulli, Gigliola. Artemide e Callistò, in: Mythos. Scripta in honorem M. Untersteiner (Genova: Istituto di filologia classica e medioevale, 1970), 179–185. Luraghi, Nino. The Ancient Messenians: Constructions of Ethnicity and Memory (Cambridge: University Press, 2008) Nielsen, Thomas Heine. Arkadia and its Poleis in the Archaic and Classical Period (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2002). Pàmias, Jordi and Arnaud Zucker. Eratosthène, Catastérismes (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2013). Pàmias, Jordi. Il testo dei Fragmenta Vaticana nella tradizione dei Catasterismi, in Antiche Stelle a Bisanzio. Il codice Vaticano greco 1087, edited by Fabio Guidetti and Anna Santoni (Pisa: Edizioni della Normale, 2013), 77–90. Pretzler, Maria. Tegea and its Neighbours in the Archaic period, in Ιστορίες για την αρχαία Αρκαδία. Proceedings of the International Symposium in Honour of James Roy, edited by Y.A. Pikoulas (Stemnitsa: University of Thessaly, 2008), 145–162. Rossi, Luisa. Ceramiche apule nel Museo di Cremona (Bari: Dedalo, 1981). Sale, William. The Story of Callisto in Hesiod, Rh. Mus. 105 (1962), 122–141. Sale, William. Callisto and the Virginity of Artemis, Rh. Mus. 108 (1965), 11–35.



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Scarpi, Paolo. Apollodoro. I miti greci (Biblioteca). Traduzione di Maria Grazia Ciani (Milano: Mondadori, 1996). Schefold, Karl. Die Göttersage in der klassischen und hellenistischen Kunst (München: Hirmer, 1981). Simon, Erika. Festivals of Attica: an Archeological Commentary (Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1983). Stenico, Arturo. Kallistò, NAC 6 (1977), 73–86. Trendall, Arthur Dale. Callisto in Apulian Vase-painting, AK 20 (1977), 99–101. West, Martin Litchfield. The Orphic Poems (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983). West, Martin Litchfield. The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985).

Francesc J. Cuartero

10 The Bibliotheca of Pseudo‐Apollodorus, Textus Unicus 1 Introduction The ancient Greek and Roman texts that we usually class as ‘Mythography’ constitute a heterogeneous series in terms of (evident or alleged) authorship, dates, contents, forms, purposes (usually, not acknowledged), and sources, which are many and problematic. Each piece often offers a unique perspective on the diverse approaches in the research on myth. The mythographical manual that has came to us under the name of Apollodorus is especially unique because of its attempt to encompass a mythological history of Greece, from its theogonic origins through to the last generations of heroes, and because of its popularizing aims, as expressed by the epigram in the header of the text, which has disappeared from the main manuscripts – all of which were derived from the priceless but mutilated Parisinus graecus 2274 – but recovered thanks to the invaluable summary of Photius. The purpose of ­mythography is, the epigram states, to inform the readers about ancient myths, without their having to go to the trouble of turning to Homer, elegy, tragedy, lyric (i.e. choral) poetry or the cyclic poems. In other words, the work seems to be mainly addressed at an increasingly growing literate audience willing to acquire the basics of traditional culture, of which mythology covered by ­literature of the Classical period formed part – a reader who might or might not have been inclined towards a more in-depth study. The Bibliotheca of Pseudo‐Apollodorus is an introductory, or propaedeutic, guide, but also a manual for the dissemination of mythographical knowledge. It is on this basis that a study of the process behind the formation of the Bibliotheca is undertaken. This process reveals a major complexity: on the one hand, the variants and versions of myths frequently differ from those transmitted by well-known literary works; often the only source for some mythical accounts is a passage in our manual. On the other hand, a comparison with sub-literary materials (scholia, hypotheses of dramatic works, summaries of mythical accounts and epic cycles, lists of characters) makes it clear that the

Francesc J. Cuartero, Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-010

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mythographer made good use of what must have been abundant secondary literature.1 Among the different possibilities offered by the study of this compositional procedure – and taking a very different direction from nineteenth-century ­Quellenforschung – are the textual issues and those aspects dealing with the relationship between myths and cult or rituals. I have selected three cases, in the form of examples, as a preliminary for further research and as encouragement for discussion.

2 The Argonauts The two voyages of the Argonauts, first to seek the land of the Golden Fleece, and the return journey after they had captured the royal talisman, is one of the most suggestive accounts of Greek mythology, both because of its prestigious antiquity (as acknowledged by the text of the Odyssey ‒ Ἀργὼ πᾶσι μέλουσα, 12.70‒) and because of the richness of its legendary motifs. From a plot outline that could have been very simple in its beginnings, the story of the Argonauts was enriched, first no doubt through the work of aoidoi and rhapsodes, and later through lyric poetry (Pindar, Simonides), tragedy and mythographical historians (Hecataeus, Pherecydes, Dionysius Scytobrachion). Hence by the first half of the 3rd century BCE, Apollonius of Rhodes could choose from an extensive repository of episodes and variants with which to construct his poem. We also know that, in the oldest versions, the Argonauts returned from Colchis to Iolcus by reversing the outward journey, and that in one variant, since they were on the far eastern confines of the world, reached the Ocean along the River Phasis, whose current took them back to the familiar sea. It seems to be from the 5th cent. on that the return journey became more difficult through the use of imagination and also thanks to the progress in geographic, ethnological and mythographical knowledge – as is to be seen in Apollonius Rhodius and his Latin derivative, Valerius Flaccus. Apollonius’ poem will be, for the itinerary and the entire adventure, the main model for the Ps.-Apollodorus, but not the only one. After a complex journey across almost the whole Mediterranean, the Argo reached Crete, where the curious and highly suggestive Talos episode takes 1 Scholarship on editing and criticism of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca is included in Huys 1997 (supplemented by Huys & Colomo 2004). The contributions by Kenens 2011, 2012a and 2012b are to be added.

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place.2 This character belongs exclusively to Cretan mythology, as does Minos. Ps.-Apollodorus says (1.9.26 [140–141]): ἐντεῦθεν ἀναχθέντες κωλύονται Κρήτῃ προσίσχειν ὑπὸ Τάλω. τοῦτον οἱ μὲν τοῦ χαλκοῦ γένους εἶναι λέγουσιν, οἱ δὲ ὑπὸ Ἡφαίστου Μίνωι δοθῆναι· ὃς ἦν χαλκοῦς ἀνήρ, οἱ δὲ ταῦρον αὐτὸν λέγουσιν. εἶχε δὲ φλέβα μίαν ἀπὸ αὐχένος κατατείνουσαν ἄχρι σφυρῶν· κατὰ δὲ τὸ τέρμα τῆς φλεβὸς ἧλος διήρειστο χαλκοῦς. οὗτος ὁ Τάλως τρὶς ἑκάστης ἡμέρας τὴν νῆσον περιτροχάζων ἐτήρει· διὸ καὶ τότε τὴν Ἀργὼ προσπλέουσαν θεωρῶν τοῖς λίθοις ἔβαλλεν. ἐξαπατηθεὶς δὲ ὑπὸ Μηδείας ἀπέθανεν, ὡς μὲν ἔνιοι λέγουσι, διὰ φαρμάκων αὐτῷ μανίαν Μηδείας ἐμβαλούσης, ὡς δέ τινες, ὑποσχομένης ποιήσειν ἀθάνατον καὶ τὸν ἧλον ἐξελούσης, ἐκρυέντος τοῦ παντὸς ἰχῶρος αὐτὸν ἀποθανεῖν. τινὲς δὲ αὐτὸν τοξευθέντα ὑπὸ Ποίαντος εἰς τὸ σφυρὸν τελευτῆσαι λέγουσι. Setting sale from there, they were prevented from landing on Crete by Talos. Some say that he was one of the men of the bronze race, but others say he was given to Minos by Hephaestus and was actually a man made of bronze, though other say he was a bull. He had a single vein stretching down from his neck to his ankles. A bronze nail was set firmly into the end of the vein. This Talos guarded the island by running around it three times a day. Therefore, when he saw the Argo sailing in, he threw stones at it in his usual manner. He was tricked and killed by Medea. According to some, Medea threw him into a fit of madness with magic. According to others, she promised to make him immortal but pulled out the nail instead, and he died when all his ichor flowed out. Still other say that he died after being shot in the ankle with an arrow by Poeas.3

Talos’ name, which does not find an explanation in Greek, is interpreted by Hesychius as ‘the sun’ – perhaps correctly, if it derives from a pre-Hellenic language of the island.4 Talos is a bronze giant, an automaton created by Hephaestus and given by him, or by Zeus, to Minos; or, according to others, it is vestige of the race of Bronze. As the mythographer adds that “some say it was a bull”, Frazer ingeniously explained that it could have been conceived as a human figure with a bovine head, a kind of Cretan Moloch, more or less related with the solar cult, well attested in the island.5 Indeed, heroizing interpretations flourished in Antiquity: according to Pausanias, Cinaethon, a poet of venerable antiquity, made him the son of Cres, the eponym of the island, and the father of ‘Hephaestus’ – most probably an ancient misunderstanding for ‘Phaestus’.6 And Diodorus Siculus, as usual, humanises Talos even more by making him the son of one of Daedalus’

2 For the Talos’ episode in Apollonius’ poem, see Argon. 4.1638‐1693; cf. Orph. Argon. 1350–1352. 3 The translations of Apollodorus are those of Trzaskoma (Smith and Trzaskoma 2007). 4 Hsch. Τ 87 ταλῶς (sic) · ὁ ἥλιος. 5 Frazer 1911, 74–75. 6 Cinaeth. fr. 1 Bernabé = Paus. 8.53.5: Κιναίθων δὲ ἐν τοῖς ἔπεσιν ἐποίησεν Ῥαδάμανθυς μὲν Ἡφαίστου, Ἥφαιστος δὲ εἴη Τάλω, Τάλων δὲ εἶναι Κρητὸς παῖδα.

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daughters and a rival craftsman of his uncle (4.76.4 f.). Nevertheless, his semidivine status seems certain, as it is not blood but ἰχώρ that runs through the only vein in his body. Talos’ mission was to go round the island three times a day, looking out for the arrival of strangers. Yet the author of the pseudo-Platonic dialogue Minos, though we do not know how seriously, explains that the continuous patrols of the island were due to his duties as a rural judge in charge of proclaiming and administering the laws of Minos written on bronze tablets.7 Talos usually eliminates foreigners by clasping them in a fatal embrace, for he had the power to turn his metal body red-hot, as Simonides and Sophocles say.8 But on this occasion the Argonauts find Talos trying to prevent them from landing by hurling rocks at them. They end up taking out their enemy, and here we encounter different versions that tend to share the common element of Medea intervening with her magic powers. According to the version that dates back to at least the 5th century (Sophocles, in his Daedalus, surely a satirical drama followed by Apollonius), Medea, using a charm to send the giant into a kind of hypnotic trance, managed to draw him towards some rocks that dislodge the nail that sealed the only vein in his body, thereby causing all of the ἰχώρ to spill out. There were, however, two variants of this version which are collected by Pseudo‐Apollodorus. One of these, in which Medea tricks Talos into drinking a potion under the pretext of making him immortal, seems to be represented on Attic vases from the last third of the 5th cent., and it is hard to deny that these depict Sophocles’ drama.9 According to the other, Poeas wounded Talos in the one vulnerable part of his body, the ankle. This variant is doubly unique, first because Poeas does not appear to have any mythical background: apart being a mere member of the expedition against the Calydonian Boar (Bibl. 1.9.16 [112]), he is little more than the father of Philoctetes, who is among Helen’s suitors in Pseudo‐Apollodorus’ list (3.10.8 [131]). The mythographer and Valerius Flaccus (1.391; 3.722) are the only sources that include Philoctetes among the Argo crew members. Neither of the two inclusions, Philoctetes or his father Poeas, is lacking in chronological coherence, if we accept that the voyage of the Argonauts is, at least in its structure, of initiatory origin and that those involved with it are mainly young men from the

7 Ps.‐Pl. Min. 320c: νομοφύλακι γὰρ αὐτῷ ἐχρῆτο ὁ Μίνως κατὰ τὸ ἄστυ, τὰ δὲ κατὰ τὴν ἄλλην Κρήτην τῷ Τάλῳ. ὁ γὰρ Τάλως τρὶς περιῄει τοῦ ἐνιαυτοῦ κατὰ τὰς κώμας, φυλάττων τοὺς νόμους ἐν αὐταῖς, ἐν χαλκοῖς γραμματείοις ἔχων γεγραμμένους τοὺς νόμους, ὅθεν χαλκοῦς ἐκλήθη. 8 Schol. Pl. Resp. 337a: Σιμωνίδης (568 PMG) δὲ ἀπὸ Τάλω τοῦ χαλκοῦ, ὃν Ἥφαιστος ἐδημιούργησε Μίνῳ φύλακα τῆς νήσου ποιήσασθαι, ἔμψυχον ὄν, τοὺς πελάζοντάς φησι κατακαῖον ἀνῄρει· ὅθεν ἀπὸ τοῦ σεσηρέναι διὰ τὴν φλόγα τὸν σαρδάνιόν φησι λεχθῆναι γέλωτα. ὁμοίως καὶ Σοφοκλῆς (fr. 160 Radt) ἐν Δαιδάλῳ. 9 An Attic red-figured crater of ca. 400 BCE depicts this version. See Robertson 1977.

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generation immediately preceding the Trojan War. Hence many of them were the fathers of heroes taking part in the conflict. Poeas’ presence among the Argonauts is therefore coherent, as the future father of a hero whose bow will play a decisive role in the conquest of Troy. Neither is it incoherent for Poeas to intervene against Talos, either as an alternative to Medea or as her accomplice, because her magical arts are in a certain way comparable to the use of the bow, a weapon in keeping with the ‘marginal’ situation of the ephebos that Poeas was. He also reappears, however, later on in another passage of the Bibliotheca: it is the scene that marks the end of Heracles’ earthly life, and one that is rich in cultural references. The hero, resolved to die, has ordered the erection of a pyre at the top of Mount Oeta and goes up to it ready to be sacrificed. But none of his relatives dares to light it. A stranger is called for help to take charge of the matter (a well-known theme in the mythical-sacrificial complex). In payment for his act, he receives Heracles’ unerring bow and arrows; this stranger coming from outside of the family community is Philoctetes,10 with the sole exception of the variant chosen by Pseudo‐Apollodorus,11 where the sacrificer is Poeas, father of Philoctetes (2.7.7 [160]). The substitution of Philoctetes for Poeas, nearly a ‘vacant’ character, is almost certainly due to a chronological adjustment to make the presence of the young Philoctetes ­plausible – first as a suitor of Helen and then on the expedition to Troy.12 There is no way of knowing what source Pseudo‐Apollodorus drew on for the passage on Heracles’ apotheosis. Yet, in this case it seems to be different from the one used for Talos’ adventure, where Poeas already appears in possession of the bow. This element would in principle exclude Heracles from any involvement, no matter how brief, in the voyage of the Argonauts, as opposed to all other known variants – although his intervention is not essential: first, in the extermination of the Gegeneis (Ap. Rhod. 1.989–1011) which Apollodorus either omits or does not know about; second, and more importantly, in the story of Hylas (1.9.19 [117–118]), linked to a local cult of Mysia, which is inserted in a secondary manner into the account of the voyage of the Argonauts to become the subject of one of the episodes of Apollonius’s poem and an epyllion by Theocritus (XIII) – both preceded by Callimachus (fr. 7.19–21 Pfeiffer). Although the character of Hylas was already known to Hellanicus of Lesbos (fr. 131 Fowler) in the 5th century BCE, his relationship with Heracles was not – as would also seem to be the case with Antimachus of Colophon. 10 See, for instance, Diod. Sic. 4.38; Ov. Met. 9.230‐234; Hyg. Fab. 36.5. 11 Apart from Tzetz. Lycoph. 50, who draws on Ps.-Apollodorus. 12 Apollod. Bibl. 3.10.8 [131]; Epit. 3.14.

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3 Demeter For the account of Demeter’s sojourn in Eleusis, the building of the sanctuary and the foundation of the mysteries, Pseudo-Apollodorus apparently follows closely the Homeric hymn. However, the details are considerably modified, as a comparison between the two texts shows, and which cannot be explained as being due to synthetic purposes.13 The text of the Bibliotheca runs as follows (1.5.1-2 [1.29–31]): Πλούτων δὲ Περσεφόνης ἐρασθεὶς Διὸς συνεργοῦντος ἥρπασεν αὐτὴν κρύφα. Δημήτηρ δὲ μετὰ λαμπάδων νυκτός τε καὶ ἡμέρας κατὰ πᾶσαν τὴν γῆν ζητοῦσα περιῄει· μαθοῦσα δὲ παρ’ Ἑρμιονέων ὅτι Πλούτων αὐτὴν ἥρπασεν, ὀργιζομένη θεοῖς κατέλιπεν οὐρανόν, εἰκασθεῖσα δὲ γυναικὶ ἧκεν εἰς Ἐλευσῖνα. καὶ πρῶτον μὲν ἐπὶ τὴν ἀπ’ ἐκείνης κληθεῖσαν Ἀγέλαστον ἐκάθισε πέτραν παρὰ τὸ Καλλίχορον φρέαρ καλούμενον. ἔπειτα πρὸς Κελεὸν ἐλθοῦσα τὸν βασιλεύ‑ οντα τότε Ἐλευσινίων, ἔνδον οὐσῶν γυναικῶν, καὶ λεγουσῶν τούτων παρ’ αὑτὰς καθέζεσθαι, γραῖά τις Ἰάμβη σκώψασα τὴν θεὸν ἐποίησε μειδιᾶσαι. διὰ τοῦτο ἐν τοῖς θεσμοφορίοις τὰς γυναῖκας σκώπτειν λέγουσιν. ὄντος δὲ τῇ τοῦ Κελεοῦ γυναικὶ Μετανείρᾳ παιδίου, τοῦτο ἔτρεφεν ἡ Δημήτηρ παραλαβοῦσα· βουλομένη δὲ αὐτὸ ἀθάνατον ποιῆσαι, τὰς νύκτας εἰς πῦρ κατετίθει τὸ βρέφος καὶ περιῄρει τὰς θνητὰς σάρκας αὐτοῦ. καθ’ ἡμέραν δὲ παραδόξως αὐξανομένου τοῦ Δημοφῶντος (τοῦτο γὰρ ἦν ὄνομα τῷ παιδί) ἐπετήρησεν ἡ , καὶ καταλαβοῦσα εἰς πῦρ ἐγκεκρυμμένον ἀνεβόησε· διόπερ τὸ μὲν βρέφος ὑπὸ τοῦ πυρὸς ἀνηλώθη, ἡ θεὰ δὲ αὑτὴν ἐξέφηνε. Τριπτολέμῳ δὲ τῷ πρεσβυτέρῳ τῶν Μετανείρας παίδων δίφρον κατασκευάσασα πτηνῶν δρακόντων τὸν πυρὸν ἔδωκεν, ᾧ τὴν ὅλην οἰκουμένην δι’ οὐρανοῦ αἰρόμενος κατέσπειρε. Πανύασις δὲ Τριπτόλεμον Ἐλευσῖνος λέγει· φησὶ γὰρ Δήμητρα πρὸς αὐτὸν ἐλθεῖν. Φερεκύδης δέ φησιν αὐτὸν Ὠκεανοῦ καὶ Γῆς. Pluto fell in love with Persephone and secretly kidnapped her with Zeus’ help. Demeter wandered over the whole earth in search of her by day and night with torches. When she learned from the people of Hermion that Pluto had kidnapped her, she was angry with the gods and left heaven. She made herself look like a mortal woman and came to Eleusis. First, she sat down upon the rock called Agelastos {“Laughless”} after her, which is located near the well known as Callichorus. Then she went to Celeus, who was at that time the ruler of the Eleusinians. There were women in this house, and they told her to sit with them. An old woman named Iambe joked with the goddess and made her smile. This is why they say women make jokes at the festival of the Thesmophoria. Celeus’ wife, Metanira, had a child, so Demeter took it and nursed it. Wishing to make it immortal, she placed the infant in the fire during the night and stripped away its mortal flesh. By day Demophon (for this was the child’s name) grew astoundingly, and so Metanira kept watch, and when she found that he had been buried in the fire, she cried out. For this reason the infant was destroyed by the fire, and the goddess revealed herself. She prepared a chariot with winged dragons and gave wheat to Triptolemus, the older of Metanira’s sons. Drawn through the sky in the chariot, he scattered seed over the whole inhabited world.

13 For further insights into the relationship between the Homeric hymn and Apollodorus’ Biblio­ theca, see Torres in this volume.

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But Panyassis says that Triptolemus was Eleusis’ son, for he says that it was to Eleusis’ house that Demeter came. Pherecydes says that he was the son of Oceanus and Ge.

First of all, in Pseudo-Apollodorus it is the people of Hermione who tell the goddess who had abducted Persephone, and not the Sun as in the Hymn (62‐87). Second, there are some differences in certain details of the Eleusinian toponymy and rites. There is no mention in the hymn of the ‘laughless’ stone Ἀγέλαστος, in reference to the mournful goddess, who is cheered up by Iambe in the following scene. This episode is, in fact, included in the Hymn (194–204), as the mythical paradigm for the apotropaically intentioned obscene jokes told by women at the Thesmophoria and other festivals in honour of Demeter. Next to the stone there is the well that the Hymn calls Parthenion (99) and Pseudo‐Apollodorus calls Callichorus – although it is next to the Callichorus that, according to the Hymn, Demeter will order her temple to be built (270–272). Mylonas, followed by Richardson in his commentary,14 says that Παρθένιος and Καλλίχορος ‘of fair dances’, sc. by maidens, are undoubtedly alternative names for the same well, whose existence is corroborated by archaeology. The hymn places Demeter’s meeting with the daughters of Celeus next to it, the latter absent from the Bibliotheca perhaps for reasons of brevity. Pausanias mentions two wells, the Callichorus and the Ἄνθιος ‘Flowery’, the place where Demeter was welcomed by the maidens in the version by the quasi-mythical poet Pamphus. Celeus, who in the hymn is one of the senior members of the council, is, in Apollodorus’ version, the king of the city. Common to both versions is the ceremony by which Demeter tries to make the son of the local king, Demophon, immortal. Both in the Hymn and the account by Pseudo-Apollodorus, Demeter places the child in the house’s fire in order to remove the mortal element from his limbs; and in the Hymn he also anoints his body with ambrosia and breathes upon it (273–278). Parallels with the use of the same motif in other myths in which attempts at immortalisation are frustrated (Achilles by means of Thetis, Isis with the son of the king of Byblos) have been frequently noticed. The operation fails because of the appearance of a stranger at the ritual ceremony, who breaks the sacred silence with a disturbing cry: Peleus in the case of Thetis with Achilles (Apollod. Bibl. 3.13.6 [171]), the Queen in that of Isis (Plut. Is. et Os. 16 [357C]). As for Demeter and Demophon, the sources disagree: while in the Latin mythographers the father is the transgressor,15 in the Hymn to Demeter it is the mother. The Bibliotheca provides a unique and, also, suspect reading at this point: whereby the child grows marvellously day by day, ἐπετήρησεν ἡ Πραξιθέα, καὶ 14 Mylonas 1961, 44–46; Richardson 1974, 326–328. 15 Hyg. Fab. 147.3‐4; Serv. G. 1.19; Lactant. Pl. Theb. 2.382; Myth. Vat. 2.119.

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καταλαβοῦσα εἰς πῦρ ἐγκεκρυμμένον ἀνεβόησε (“Praxithea kept watch, and when she found that he had been buried in the fire, she cried out”). Praxithea’s name has been considered difficult to accept in this place. In Attic mythology, Praxithea is the name of a Naiad nymph whom the primordial hero Erichthonius took as a wife and was the mother of Pandion (3.14.6 [190]); further, the grandson of Pandion, Erechtheus, married another Praxithea, the daughter of Cephissus (3.15.1 [196]). This is obviously a duplication of characters that corresponds to the duplication of Erichthonius and Erechtheus for reasons of mythographical coherence. Whatever the case, the presence of a Praxithea in the mythical tale of Demeter in Eleusis was not tolerated by the earliest editors. As early as Aegius, in the editio princeps, Praxithea was replaced by Metanira, both here and a few lines later, when Praxithea appears as the mother of Triptolemus. The correction was imposed almost unanimously, accepted by Heyne, by Wagner’s almost canonical edition, and finally by Papathomopoulos; only Bekker (1854) and Frazer accept the reading of the manuscripts. I myself, in my article of 1997, proposed that it be maintained, although in my edition I decided, dubitanter, to accept the correction. All of this, it seems to me, means that we are faced by an enigma, albeit minimal, of textual criticism that extends to mythography. Criticism, in good practice, requires us to analyse the reasons for every reading, whether that is to accept or reject it. This principle has led some scholars to consider Πραξιθέα to be a corruption and to try to reconstruct the original reading: this is the sense of Heyne’s proposal ἡ Μετάνειρα τί πράξει θεά, as followed by Westermann and Müller. But this still does not explain what motivated the author of the Parisinus 2274, or rather his source, to insert the name Praxithea, which does not appear in the immediate context. Editors have only accepted Metanira’s name as a replacement for Praxithea because the version in the Homeric hymn so suggests. However, the agreement between this text and the mythographer is far from constant, as can be gleaned from two details from the sequence of events. First, according to the Bibliotheca, the goddess is revealed by her cry and allows the young Demophon to be consumed by the fire, while the Homeric hymn presents what seems to be a ‘softened version’: Demeter disappears, leaving the child on the ground, the sisters pick him up, bathe him and console him until the day after, when Celeus calls an assembly, which receives instructions from the goddess to build a temple. It is not until later (when Persephone returns and the reconciliation with the Olympian gods takes place) that Demeter reveals her sacred mysteries to the Eleusinian princes (to Triptolemus, Diocles, Polyxenus, Eumolpus and Celeus himself, all of them eponyms of Eleusinian mythology and liturgy) (473–479). The story continues in a different way in the Bibliotheca: “She prepared a chariot with winged dragons and gave wheat to Triptolemus, the older of Metanira’s sons. Drawn through the sky in the chariot, he scattered seed over the whole

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inhabited world”. It is, indeed, on Triptolemus that most versions are focused, overlooking or ignoring Demophon. Triptolemus’ genealogies vary widely, and Apollodorus offers three of his own: son of “Praxithea”, which the editors again correct as “Metanira”, thereby making him the elder brother of Demophon – but adding that, according to Panyassis, he was the son of the eponymous Eleusis, who hosted Demeter (fr. 13 Bernabé); and according to Pherecydes, he was the son of Oceanus and Ge (fr. 53 Fowler/Pàmias). It is to the latter genealogy that Pausanias refers (1.14.3),16 where, after saying that, according to the Athenians, Triptolemus was the son of Celeus, he quotes a dubious fragment by Orpheus, which makes him the son of Dysaules and the brother of a certain Eubuleus, who gave Demeter the news of her daughter and therefore received from the goddess the grain and the skill to sow the earth. Pausanias also makes reference to the tragic poet Choerilus who, in his drama Alope, presented Triptolemus as the son of Rarus, the eponym for the cornfields of Attica, and of a daughter of Amphictyon. And the Periegete adds, as curious as he is pious, that he knows of other versions, but religious scruple prevents him from mentioning them. We should remark that, in the version given by Hyginus, Triptolemus, son of Eleusis, the local king, is the child that Ceres aims to immortalise; and it is the father who spies on the goddess and is t­ herefore punished by death. We know of other versions from some isolated testimonies. One element that all these multifarious genealogies have in common is that they consider Triptolemus to be a culture hero and therefore the son of ancestral heroes and/or of primordial deities. Closely linked to Demeter and to the rites of Eleusis – we do not know whether primarily or secondarily – he is portrayed as the d ­ isseminator of cereal crops and even as the inventor of the plough. Peisistratus’ religious policies must have played a major role in his ‘adoption’ by Athens. Attic black-figures vases show Triptolemus on a flying chariot that is sometimes pulled by horses and that at other times is ‘self-propelling’; some red-figure vases depict the chariot being pulled by winged serpents coming out of the wheel hubs. This detail, reflected by

16 Paus. 1.14.2-3: “But the Athenians [...] know that Triptolemus the son of Celeus was the first who sowed cultivated grain. However, some verses of Musaeus (if his they are) declare Triptolemus to be a child of Ocean and Earth (fr. 382 Bernabé); while other verses, which are attributed, in my opinion, with just as little reason, to Orpheus, assert that Eubuleus and Triptolemus were sons of Dysaules, and that, as a reward for the information they gave her about her daughter, Demeter allowed them to sow the grain. Choerilus the Athenian, in a drama called Alope, says that Cercyon and Triptolemus were brothers, that their mother was a daughter of Amphictyon, but that the father of Triptolemus was Rarus, and that the father of Cercyon was Poseidon” (Trans. Frazer).

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Apollodorus, may originate, according to some scholars, in the early Sophocles. It was also known to Philochorus, with whom it gained wide recognition.17 From the study of Pseudo‐Apollodorus’ passage on Demeter in Eleusis we could conclude that the mythographer presents an apparently similar version of the myth to that of the Homeric hymn – but also differing in some details and most of all in terms of the etiological motif: in the Hymn, the foundation of the Eleusinian cult and mysteries; in Apollodorus, the diffusion of grain by the cultural hero Triptolemus. We could even take into account the existence of an Eleusinian and an Athenian version of the myth. Hence, we feel we are entitled to again attempt to restore the name of a Praxithea – close to the royal family, which is formed by Celeus, Metanira and Demophon – and mother of Triptolemus, although she is unknown to us from other sources. Our anonymous mythographer, whose aim is to abridge the story is evident, may have neglected to introduce the character beforehand.

4 Althaemenes In Bibl. 3.2.1 ff. [13 ff.] there is a summary of the accounts of the grandchildren of Minos and sons of Catreus. The latter, knowing via an oracle that he would die at the hands of one of his sons, decides to get rid of his only male descendant, Althaemenes, by making him sail away. When the ship reaches the island of Rhodes, he lands at a place called Cretinia, which is only mentioned in Apollodorus – for in Diodorus’ version (5.50.1‐4), he disembarks at Camirus, on the western shore of the island. The legend obviously historicizes the Greek presence in Rhodes, which goes back at least to the 14th century BCE. It was there that Althaemenes founded, on top of Mount Atabyrus, the highest on the island, a cult to Zeus Atabyrius, which is well attested by different authors (e.g. Pindar, Strabo) and by inscriptions.18 This would seem to be a case of syncretism between a Phoenician divinity and one of the Greeks who arrived later. However, the legend of colonisation includes another account, one that is intriguing and otherwise unknown (Apollod. Bibl. 3.2.1 [14]): μετ’ οὐ πολὺ δὲ τῆς ἀδελφῆς αὐτόχειρ ἐγένετο. Ἑρμῆς γὰρ αὐτῆς ἐρασθείς, ὡς φεύγουσαν αὐτὴν καταλαβεῖν οὐκ ἠδύνατο (περιῆν γὰρ αὐτοῦ τῷ τάχει τῶν ποδῶν), κατὰ τῆς ὁδοῦ βύρσας ὑπέστρωσε νεοδάρτους, ἐφ’ ἃς ὀλισθοῦσα, ἡνίκα ἀπὸ τῆς κρήνης ἐπανῄει, φθείρεται.

17 Philoch. FGrH 328F104a‐b; cf. Schol. Ael. Aristid. 105, 11. 18 Among others, see Pind. Ol. 7.87 f.; Str. 14.2.11 f. Cf. IG XII 1, 31; 161; 891.

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καὶ τῷ ἀδελφῷ μηνύει τὸ γεγονός· ὁ δὲ σκῆψιν νομίσας εἶναι τὸν θεόν, λὰξ ἐνθορὼν ἀπέκ­ τεινεν. Not much later he became the murderer of his sister. Hermes loved her, but she ran away, and he could not catch her (for she was faster than him at running). So he spread freshly stripped hides along her path, and when she was coming back from the spring, she slipped on them and was raped. She told her brother what happened, but he thought the god was just a cover story, so he kicked her to death.

Althaemenes had arrived at the island in the company of one of his three sisters, Apemosyne (a ἅπαξ as an anthroponym in Greek mythology). They make up a peculiar pair of founders, brother and sister, whose almost only parallel seems to be that of the children of Cycnus, Tenes and Hemithea/Amphithea, who were set to sea in a chest by their father and would colonize the island of Tenedos (Apollod. Epit. 3.24). Hermes falls in love with Apemosyne, who was extremely fleet-footed (is she an ‘Atalantic’ maiden?) and keeps escaping from the god’s frequent attempts to harass her. The latter comes up with a strategy: he leaves freshly skinned hides (βύρσας ὑπέστρωσε νεοδάρτους) in the maiden’ path and as she is running back from the fountain she slips and falls; Hermes rapes her. Hermes’ plan reflects a hunting custom: it is attested in a passage by Pausanias as the method used in Paeonia for hunting buffalo. And a note by Frazer describes how it was still employed in the Lithuanian forests in the 16th century.19 Apemosyne, an ἄδμητος maiden, is comparable with a wild animal and as such falls victim to the trap set by Hermes. In the tales of seduction of maidens by gods or heroes, when the pregnancy is revealed, the father does not believe the young lady’s story and decides to punish her – usually subjecting her to a treatment with the characteristic features of an ordeal. Here, however, in the absence of a father, the maiden’s kyrios is her brother, Althaemenes. Although excessively violent reactions are not rare among heroes, Althaemenes’ actions seem ‘improper’: he kicks her to death (λάξ). Apemosyne’s story could be interpreted as a myth related to the prenuptial status: Apemosyne loses her virginity without permission from her kyrios, her brother in this case, and is therefore punished by an act that causes her most radical and definitive exclusion, and presumably also that of the son in her womb. Unfortunately there are no other texts accounting for this brief episode. Therefore, we can not be totally sure of our interpretation Later on, when Catreus, having learned of his son’s innocence, seeks to fix the error and lands on the island. Althaemenes mistakes him for a pirate and kills him; he is then swallowed by earth, a typical ending for the protector heroes 19 Paus. 10.13.1; Frazer 1898, 293–294.

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of the territory. Indeed, Diodorus, who partly rationalises the story by having Althaemenes withdraw to the desert and die of sorrow (διὰ τῆς λύπης), says that the people of Rhodes, by order of an oracle, bestowed heroic honours upon him. Once again, we do not know the source of what must have been a complex group of local legends associated with religious cults.

Bibliography Bekker, Immanuel. Apollodori Bibliotheca (Leipzig: Teubner, 1854). Cuartero, Francesc J. Demèter a Eleusis (Ps.-Apol·lodor, Biblioteca I 5, 1 s. [31 s.]), in: Homenatge a Miquel Dolç. Actes del XII Simposi de la Secció Catalana i I de la Secció Balear de la SEEC, edited by M. del C. Bosch & M. A. Fornés (Palma de Mallorca: Sociedad Española de Estudios Clásicos, 1997), 183–188. Frazer, James G. Pausanias’s Description of Greece. Translated with a Commentary. Vol. V (New York: Macmillan, 1898). Frazer, James G. The Golden Bough. III. The Dying God (Cambridge: Macmillan, 19113). Huys, Marc. 125 Years of Scholarship on Apollodoros the Mythographer: A Bibliographical Survey. Ant. Class. 66 (1997), 319–351. Huys, Marc & Colomo, Daniela. Bibliographical Survey on Apollodoros the Mythographer: A Supplement. Ant. Class. 73 (2004), 219–237. Kenens, Ulrike. The Sources of Ps.-Apollodorus’s Library: a Case-Study. QUCC 97 (2011), 129–146. Kenens, Ulrike. Greek Mythography at Work: The Story of Perseus from Pherecydes to Tzetzes. GRBS 52 (2012a), 147–166. Kenens, Ulrike. Some Observations on the Catalogue of Danaids (Apollod. 2.16–20 and Hyg. Fab. 170). Mnemosyne 65 (2012b), 726–731. Mylonas, George E. Eleusis and the Eleusinian Mysteries (Princeton: University Press, 1961). Richardson, Nicholas J. The Homeric Hymn to Demeter (Oxford: University Press, 1974). Robertson, Martin. The Death of Talos. JHS 97 (1977), 158–160. Smith, R. Scott and Stephen M. Trzaskoma. Apollodorus’ Library and Hyginus’ Fabulae. Two Handbooks of Greek Mythology (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2007).

Robert L. Fowler

11 Apollodorus and the Art of the Variant When one thinks of mythography, one thinks of variants. At least I do, having written a commentary on the early mythographers which on every page struggles to swim forward against a flood of them.1 The situation arises, of course, from the nature of the myths themselves. Every telling introduces new variants, or new combinations of old ones. Mythography, the recording of myth, merely reflects this plenitude. Yet the bewildering variety of myth constitutes a challenge which mytho­ graphers from antiquity to the present day cannot resist. Their desire is to bring order to the chaos, to still the flux by finding amidst the welter of variants the one underlying myth. The tendency amongst ancient mythographers is to offer a single story, whether by following a single source with some adaptation and addition, or by composing a new story from several sources, or by dressing an old story in new clothes – I am thinking here of rationalising or allegorical interpretation of traditional myths. The mythographers often intimate or state outright that theirs is the true myth, revealed by diligence and sagacity – ‘true’ in the sense of original, archetypal or definitive, from which other versions are deviations. The relationship between mythographer and source is conceptually reversed in this conceit, because the suggestion is that the variants, whether they are given by epic poets, tragedians, or previous mythographers, are all derivative of the one true myth, which was there before these intermediate sources passed it on. The mythographer who has captured this myth, though he comes last in the sequence, is notionally first.2 Indeed, the poem quoted by Photius as the preface to Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca states arrogantly that one does not even need to read the poets: you may find everything of value here in this one place. If ancient mythographers tend towards univocality, the tendency amongst modern mythographers (in which I include myself) is to set out all the known variants and try to make sense of them – identifying relationships amongst sources, fixing chronology, explaining contexts, analysing narratives, offering interpretations deploying modern schemata such as initiation or fertility or psychoanalysis. Yet the modern mythographer too wants to control the variation – to stand outside the tradition and assess it; to gain some sense of ‘the’ myth, not ‘the myths’. But no one stands outside the tradition. The modern mythographical commentary may be more self-reflexive than the ancient, a sort of meta-mythography, but it is 1 Fowler 2013. 2 I develop this thought in Fowler forthcoming. DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-011



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only the latest kind of mythography, and in a sense the modern scholar, like the ancient, succeeds only in adding another variant to the pile. Of course, this does not mean that the effort is pointless. Each of us offers something we hope will be of use to our contemporaries. In doing so we inevitably reveal the preoccupations of our own time. These traits may be apparent from any number of features, but may be especially on display precisely in the treatment of variants, since it is here that choices must be made. Moreover, although the ancient mythographers tend to suppress competing versions, they nonetheless continue to offer a small selection of variant details, and they do so in different and suggestive ways. Any writer’s practice will be a combination of his cultural environment and personal preference. Reasons why he makes this or that choice can often only be guessed at, but we may observe the patterns and attempt some plausible explanations. Mythography comes in many forms, and comments in this paper can be only preliminary at best. As a point of departure and contrast we may briefly mention modern scholarly productions such as those of Roscher, Robert, or Gantz.3 Their primary purpose is to record all the variants in a manner that can be conveniently overseen by readers seeking information. They leave the readers, for the most part, to do with this information what they will; they do not typically offer interpretations of the myths. This particular species of encyclopaedism is germane to an age used to the democratisation of, and easy access to, knowledge; the desire to possess and master all the data might be thought characteristic of positivism. Encyclopaedism, though not so comprehensive, is apparent also in some kinds of ancient mythography, particularly scholia. Here are two examples from the scholia to Apollonius of Rhodes: Schol. Ap. Rhod. 1.1212–19a (p. 110.10 Wendel). Ἡρακλῆς γήμας Δηιάνειραν τὴν  Οἰνέως θυγατέρα καὶ διάγων ἐν Καλυδῶνι, ἐν συμποσίῳ Κύαθον {ἤτοι} τὸν Οἰνέως οἰνοχόον, Ἀρχιτέλους δὲ παῖδα, πλήξας κονδύλῳ ἀνεῖλεν, ὅτι αὐτῷ τὰ ποδάνιπτρα  {ὕδατα}  ἀγνοῶν ἐπὶ τῶν χειρῶν ἐπέχεεν. φεύγων οὖν τὸν φόνον καὶ σὺν τῇ γαμετῇ στελλόμενος ἀνεῖλεν ἐν Εὐήνῳ ποταμῷ Νέσσον Κένταυρον, ὡς καὶ Ἀρχίλοχος ἱστορεῖ. ἔπειτα προϊὼν ἔφερεν καὶ Ὕλλον τὸν υἱὸν καὶ ἐλθὼν εἰς τὴν Δρυοπίαν – λῃστρικὸν δὲ τὸ ἔθνος ὁμοροῦν τοῖς Μηλιεῦσιν, ὡς Φερεκύδης ἐν τῇ γ´ φησίν–, τοῦ παιδὸς πεινῶντος καὶ τοῦ παιδαγωγοῦ Λίχα ἀπολιμπανομένου, συντυχὼν τῷ Θειοδάμαντι ᾐτεῖτο ὀλίγην τροφήν... τούτων δὲ καὶ ὁ Καλλίμαχος μέμνηται. Φερεκύδης δὲ ἐν τῷ β φησίν, ὅτι “Πολυδώρᾳ τῇ Δαναοῦ μίσγεται Σπερχειὸς ὁ ποταμός, τῶν δὲ γίνεται Δρύοψ, ἀφ’ οὗ Δρύοπες καλοῦνται· οἰκοῦσι δὲ ἐπὶ τῷ Σπερχειῷ ποταμῷ”. Heracles married Deianira the daughter of Oeneus and was living in Calydon. During a symposium he killed Oeneus’ wine-server, the son of Architeles, with a blow of his fist,

3 Roscher et al. 1884–1937; Robert 1920–1926; Gantz 1993.

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because the boy had ignorantly poured the water for his feet over his hands. In exile for the murder and travelling with his wife he killed Nessus the Centaur in the river Euenus, as Archilochus also relates (fr. 288 West). Continuing on, and having with him also his son Hyllus, he came to Dryopia – this is a nation of brigands adjacent to the Malians, as Pherecydes says in Book 3 (fr. 19 Fowler). The boy was hungry, and the paedagogus Lichas was absent, so when Heracles met Theiodamas he begged some small sustenance...4 Callimachus (fr. 24 Pfeiffer) also makes mention of these matters. Pherecydes says in Book 2 (fr. 8 Fowler) that ‘the river Spercheius mated with Polydora daughter of Danaus, and their son was Dryops after whom the Dryopes are named; they live beside the river Spercheius’. Schol. Ap. Rhod. 1. 1234–39b p. 112.11 Wendel. Θεόκριτος ἐν τοῖς Βουκολικοῖς ἐν τῷ Ὕλᾳ ἐπιγραφομένῳ (13. 46 ff.) ὑπὸ πασῶν φησιν αὐτὸν τῶν νυμφῶν ἡρπάσθαι. Ὄνασος δὲ ἐν τῷ α´ τῶν Ἀμαζονικῶν (FGrH 41F1) πεσόντα τὸν Ὕλαν φησὶν ὑποβρύχιον γενέσθαι. καὶ Νίκανδρος ἐν τῷ β´ τῶν Ἑτεροιουμένων (fr. 48 Schneider) ὑπὸ πασῶν φησιν αὐτὸν ἁρπαγῆναι νυμφῶν· ὁ δὲ Ἀπολλώνιος ὑπὸ μιᾶς. Theocritus in the Boukolika in the poem entitled ‘Hylas’ (13.46 ff.) says that he was snatched by all the nymphs. Onasus in Book 1 of his Amazonika (FGrH 41F1) says that Hylas fell in and drowned. Nicandrus in Book 2 of the Metamorphoses (fr. 48 Schneider) also says he was taken off by all the nymphs, but Apollonius says by one.

The second excerpt may raise a smile at its pedantic precision, but it holds a certain charm. Here is a love of quisquiliae for their own sake, familiar to every mythographer. Who has not marvelled at the catalogue of Actaeon’s hounds, or Thetis’ sisters; who has not tried to name Hecuba’s mother? Such diversions leave the question of significance – the ‘so what?’ – hanging in the air, irresponsibly but delightfully unanswered. The first scholium helpfully attempts to anticipate the reader’s every question, and not only to answer it but to give the authority for the answer. The resulting Zitatennest, nest of citations, is a familiar feature of the scholiastic genre. This scholium is also an example of the historia, found not only in this corpus but in the scholia to Homer, Euripides, Pindar and others: a passing or obscure mythological allusion leads the scholiast to tell the story for the reader’s benefit, so that the allusion may be understood. The note typically ends by giving the authority: ‘the historia is found in Pherecydes’, as it may be, or some other mythographer or poet. These source-ascriptions, as is well known, are beset by doubts about their authenticity. The extent to which the particular version is in fact found in Pherecydes (or whoever) is often very uncertain, and sometimes the ascriptions are demonstrably false. The story may be ‘in’ Pherecydes only in the sense that he treated the subject; Pherecydes’ details might have been completely different. 4 The story is briefly related in the part here omitted.



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It is almost as if an ascription is a compulsory part of the form, making a claim to authority that may be misleading if not spurious.5 In scholia and historiai the authority ostensibly belongs to the author or authors cited and not the composer of the note. In other cases the balance shifts to the composer. Diodorus of Sicily is an interesting case. The first six books of his Universal History are devoted mostly to the mythical period. In book 4, which treats Greek mythology exclusively and is the part of the work most comparable to Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca, Diodorus names his sources only five times; in addition, he occasionally cites a few lines of poetry for illustrative purposes (nine times).6 Far more often the citations of variants are anonymous (‘some / others say that’). However, throughout his narrative he repeatedly uses expressions such as ‘they say that’ or ‘people tell the story that (μυθολογοῦσι)’ to refer to his sources. Sometimes at the beginning or end of a section he may list a source or sources he intends to use or has used (e. g. 3.66.5, Dionysius Scytobrachion;7 5.80.4, Epimenides, Dosiades, Sosicrates, Laosthenidas). Within the section itself citations are rare; typically, in spite of ‘people say that’, he is using only one source, with occasional insertions of details from elsewhere.8 The overall impression he seeks to convey is that of a man in charge. He has selected for us the best of the accounts and assembled them into the only version we need to know. He does not allow us to see past his narrative to discover the details of the individual sources and test his assessment of them. He is the arbiter, and when he says he follows good authorities his purpose is to boost his own standing with the reader, not to take second place to them. Perhaps we may say that Diodorus, even in these mythographical stretches of his work, is actually behaving more like an historian than a mythographer, although he knows the difference (as constructed in antiquity) between myth and history. Apart from Herodotus, who in this respect as in so many is exceptional, ancient historians tend not to risk surrendering judgement to the reader by laying bare their workings. One must choose between variants, because truth in the conventional understanding of history must be monistic. But in myth one can have multiple realities, and the mythographer is free to record competing, even contradictory stories without having to judge which is true, if ‘true’ means

5 On the general subject see van Rossum-Steenbeek 1998, 86, 117, Lightfoot 1999, 246–256, and especially Cameron 2004, 89–123. 6  He names Alcman as a source at 7.1, Hesiod at 85.5, and Timaeus at 21.7, 22.6, 56.3; he quotes verses of Homer at 2.4, 7.2, 32.2, 49.7, 75.2, 85.6, and 85.7, of Hesiod at 7.2, and of Aratus at 80.2. 7 Rusten 1982, 11. 8 For recent discussion of Diodorus’ sources see Sacks 1994; Wiater 2006; Szczurek 2008; Wiemer 2013, 286.

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‘corresponding to lived experience’. ‘True’ can, however, also mean ‘faithful to tradition’; if the whole tradition is fictional, one can (if one is aware of its fictionality) choose to ignore that, and treat tradition as real – in which case, the account could read like history. (And history, if awareness of the constructedness of truth creeps in, may open the door to multiple realities, and start to read like myth.) Diodorus does not ignore the question mark hanging over the veracity of myth; his constant, irritating ‘people tell the story that’, which is much less frequent in his historical books, keeps the question constantly in the forefront of the reader’s mind. Yet he does his best to make the myths into something like history, notably by preferring rationalised versions, and by minimising the number of variants. We come then to Apollodorus. In the Appendix I have attempted to enumerate all of the variants in his text. They may be divided into two types, which I have designated ‘genealogical’ and ‘mythological’, including in the former not only cases where different parents are named but those where the offspring have alternative names. I have stretched this category somewhat to include such phenomena as different names of those raised from the dead by Asclepius (3.121 [3.10.3] [121]), as these do not affect the essence of the story. The ‘mythological’ variants do represent different stories. Naturally the degree of difference in this second type may vary but it is often considerable. Naturally too there are times when a different genealogy has consequences (I have noted such cases), but in general the distinction between these types of variant is easily drawn. It may be observed first of all that, even though it required several pages to list all of the variants, there are not nearly as many variants as there could potentially be. A total of 114 passages offer variants. In many of them, of course, more than one variant is given; but this does not affect the point here. The narrative act occurs 114 times, which is approximately once every page and a half of continuous Greek. Sometimes the gap between variants is long; the first one does not occur until section 18 of book 1 (1.3.4). Until you reach that point, for all you know there is no such thing as a variant. Compare any page of Apollodorus with a page of Gantz or Preller-Robert and you will see how much variation Apollodorus has omitted. Much of the information in those books was in fact available to him directly or indirectly. His purpose was therefore not to include absolutely everything in a positivistic spirit, and his reason for including variants at all was not scholarly but literary or cultural. Their distribution is apt to be to determined by artistic considerations, and by his conception of his task. One variant every page and a half is a lot less than it might have been; on the other hand, it is more than one finds in Diodorus. Furthermore, Apollodorus names his sources far more frequently. The impression is certainly conveyed of diligent research and deep learning. Some forty authorities are cited in the



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Bibliotheca, from the very familiar Homer to obscure Hellenistic writers.9 The great number of authors and the frequency of their citation ensure that we do not forget how industrious Apollodorus has been in compiling this handbook for us. They reassure us that we do not need to do the work for ourselves. We are in safe hands, we feel, with Apollodorus. The variants seldom disrupt the flow of the narrative. This is clearly the case with the genealogical variants: they are given in a few quick words. It is also the case with most of the mythological variants that they hardly distract our attention. There is usually a main story, which occupies most of the space; the variant is very briefly dealt with. Moreover, the mythological variants, though affecting the narrative, often do so in insignificant ways. For instance, at 1.76 [1.8.5] we are given several reasons why Tydeus was exiled, and at 1.120 [1.9.21] we are given several reasons why Phineus was blinded. These are, strictly speaking, different stories. But the operative points for Apollodorus’ narrative are simply that Tydeus was exiled (so that he would go to Argos to become one of the Seven Against Thebes), and that Phineus was blind (so that he could be tormented by the Harpies): why Tydeus was exiled, or why Phineus was blind, are matters of secondary importance. We can afford to consider these inconsequential variants as a matter of idle, almost antiquarian interest. They are pleasant enough in themselves and do not confuse the picture unduly. We may flatter ourselves that we have become scholars ourselves by reading the Bibliotheca, but we are deceived in this complacent notion: we are getting, essentially, one story at a time and only one. Apollodorus’ manner of citing variants is why the few Zitatennester in him read so oddly. When citations crowd together in this manner, it seems as though all variants are on equal footing, and it becomes difficult to follow the narrative path. The account of Talos in Book One is a notable example:10 Apollod. Bibl. 1.140–1 [1.9.26]. κωλύονται Κρήτῃ προσίσχειν ὑπὸ Τάλω. τοῦτον οἱ μὲν τοῦ χαλκοῦ γένους εἶναι λέγουσιν, οἱ δὲ ὑπὸ Ἡφαίστου Μίνωι δοθῆναι· ὃς ἦν χαλκοῦς ἀνήρ, οἱ δὲ ταῦρον αὐτὸν λέγουσιν. εἶχε δὲ φλέβα μίαν ἀπὸ αὐχένος κατατείνουσαν ἄχρι σφυρῶν· κατὰ δὲ τὸ τέρμα τῆς φλεβὸς ἧλος διήρειστο χαλκοῦς. οὗτος ὁ Τάλως τρὶς ἑκάστης ἡμέρας τὴν νῆσον περιτροχάζων ἐτήρει· διὸ καὶ τότε τὴν Ἀργὼ προσπλέουσαν θεωρῶν τοῖς λίθοις ἔβαλλεν. ἐξαπατηθεὶς δὲ ὑπὸ Μηδείας ἀπέθανεν, ὡς μὲν ἔνιοι λέγουσι, διὰ φαρμάκων αὐτῷ

9 List available in Scarpi and Ciani 1996, 687–688. Trzaskoma 2013 studies passages where Apollodorus’ infrequent first-person interventions coincide with source-citations and internal cross-references, and observes how they contribute powerfully to the impression of a reliable, guiding authority. Michels’ exhaustive study of Apollodorus’ relation to his sources (Michels 2014, 71–210) supports this conclusion (see pp. 209–210). 10 Cf. also 1.74–76 [1.8.4-5], 3.100–101 [3.8.2], 3.121 [3.10.3].

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μανίαν Μηδείας ἐμβαλούσης, ὡς δέ τινες, ὑποσχομένης ποιήσειν ἀθάνατον καὶ τὸν ἧλον ἐξελούσης, ἐκρυέντος τοῦ παντὸς ἰχῶρος αὐτὸν ἀποθανεῖν. τινὲς δὲ αὐτὸν τοξευθέντα ὑπὸ Ποίαντος εἰς τὸ σφυρὸν τελευτῆσαι λέγουσι. (The Argonauts) were prevented from landing in Crete by Talos. Some say he was of the race of bronze, while others say he was given to Minos by Hephaestus. He was a man of bronze, though some say he was a bull. He had a single vein running from his neck to his ankles; at the end of it a bronze rivet was driven in. This Talos would run around the island three times a day keeping guard, so on this occasion when he saw the Argo approaching he began to pelt it with rocks. He died as a result of Medea’s deception. Some say she drove him mad with potions, while others say she promised to make him immortal and when she removed the rivet, all his ichor flowed out and he died. Some say he died when Poeas shot him in the ankle with an arrow.

The jumble of information reads more like a scholium to Apollonius than Apollodorus’ typical narrative. Here the mythographer seems merely to report data without the discrimination a historian might exercise. Apollodorus normally reduces such clutter to a minimum. Why does he write in this manner here at all? Perhaps such passages are mere lapses from his usual standards of elegance. But they are also evidence that Apollodorus is, in fact, in large part a scholar; if not a professional scholar, a learned amateur. For most of the book, however, he places his scholarship at the service of other ends, so that such passages as these, in which learning is its own justification, do not often appear. What might those other ends be? Apollodorus gives the impression of an urbane narrator, performing a service for the reader who has aspirations to sophistication. The stories are simply told, but not without charm or artifice. Apollodorus places a familiar tale before us – nothing outlandish, such as one might find in Conon – but, before moving on, he reminds us that, in some particulars, the learned men differ amongst themselves. By casually adducing choice additional information, Apollodorus intimates his sovereign command of the mythographical tradition. He suggests his breadth of learning, but more subtly than that he displays his judgement as to what is canonical and what is a variant. Perhaps the very fact of his text’s survival is evidence of his reassuring orthodoxy. From our perspective, the many connections between Apollodorus’ handbook and Hesiod’s Catalogue of Women, Pherecydes of Athens, the scholia to Apollonius, and Diodorus, seem to confirm the suggestion that Apollodorus’ main virtue is indeed his normality. Perhaps when he was writing the dominance of oddities like Conon or special collections like Antoninus Liberalis made a work like his a desideratum. More subtly, it was Apollodorus who created the impression of normality in his readers, by fostering an image of canonical vs. variant in the first place: this (my) story is orthodox, that one (yours) is eccentric. We might infer, then, that Apollodorus wished to cater to the taste of the mainstream reading public rather than the patrons of the curiosity shop. Like



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many people today, readers needed basic information about the Greek myths. The specialised collections might be purchased later. In support of this view one might suggest also that, were Apollodorus writing for an exclusively learned audience, he would have identified even more of his sources; though he names them much more frequently than Diodorus, if we contrast the practice of Athenaeus we see how differently things might have looked. He might also have included more poetic quotations. There are few in the Bibliotheca, so few that they have often been suspected of being interpolated.11 Further evidence of his target audience comes from his heterogeneous style.12 A volume aimed exclusively at the high end of the market would be much more elaborately wrought. But though Apollodorus wished to reach a broad audience, he also wanted to reach an elite readership. One sign of this is the number of unique details found in the Bibliotheca, which is far larger than one might expect; Söder identified 50 in the first book alone.13 The quantity bespeaks the quality of his research, and this would be clear to a discerning reader. Passages too where source citations come fast and thick would appeal, one might think, more to the scholarly reader than to one just wanting to know ‘the’ story; though they are few in number, such passages are revealing. It is noteworthy that in the Epitome the number of named citations drops to nearly nothing, even in the Vatican version, which was made by a scholar (John Tzetzes).14 The epitome was made for workaday purposes and refinements such as the precise source of a variant are omitted. Apollodorus, then, in the Bibliotheca catered for a spectrum of tastes, encompassing both educated (or would-be educated) amateur, and the professional in casual mode. Comparison with Hyginus’ Fabulae is instructive in several respects. In respect of citations it is like the epitome of Apollodorus. Though Hyginus cites ‘others’ dozens of times, and heads some chapters that contain an alternative version ‘aliter’, he names his sources only 8 times, if I have counted aright.15

11 Bibl. 2.38 [2.4.2], 3.32 [3.4.4], 3.72 [3.6.7], 3.207 [3.15.6]. Some recent editors accept them; cf. Dräger 2005,460; Cuartero 2010, 30. 12 Edmunds, this volume. On Apollodorus’ target audience see also Smith and Trzaskoma 2007, xxx–xxxii; Cuartero 2010, 16–27. 13 Söder 1939. Trzaskoma 2013 finds that, although Apollodorus’ knowledge of his sources is second-hand, his use of the compendia, commentaries, hypotheses and other scholarly sources on which he drew is highly discriminating. 14 See at the end of the Appendix. 15 ‘aliter’: 68A, 68B, 69A, 70A, 71A (but this cluster in the middle suggests interpolation). Named sources: 14.8 Ap. Rhod. (supplementary detail); 144.2 Pherecydes (supp. detail); 161 Euripides (alternative genealogy); 183.2 Eumelus (supp. detail); 183.3 Homer (supp. detail). Fab. 4 is cited as Euripides’ version of Ino’s tale; Fab. 8 his version of Antiope; Fab. 154 Hesiod’s of Phaethon. At 14.33 some verses of Cicero are quoted.

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There is an insouciance here that matches the farrago that is his book. The book has its utility, but only if you are an undiscriminating reader. The mise-en-page – separate chapters for each tale, the chapters often randomly arranged – negates any possibility of continuous narrative.16 That many chapters are catalogues reinforces the character of the work. Apollodorus’ narrative, even if ingenuity is needed to find a place for some of the myths, replicates a structure that goes back to the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women and, by virtue of this faithful transmission, suggests both the preservation of a cultural patrimony and nostalgia for the very world it describes, the world of early human ‘history’. Its procedure underscores the sense of the spatium mythicum precisely as its own space, one perhaps of contested status but about which one can only take a view, whether credulous, skeptical or agnostic, if it is notionally established as a space in the first place. Though Apollodorus arranges his narrative with care and skill, and distributes his source citations artfully therein, there is at the same time an element of caprice in his procedure. At least, there is no way is no way of predicting when he will cite a variant; they are reasonably regular, but that is about all one can say. His is an aristocratic attitude to the tradition: it would be a sign of poor breeding to attempt slavishly to capture its entirety, worrying that someone might fault you for omitting something.17 One wants some variants to add spice, but not too many to be boring. The enterprise is redolent of the Second Sophistic, with its urbanity, its casual assumption of superiority, its elegant and ornamental citation of learned material (usually obtained second-hand: let the drudges do the work). The Bibliotheca evokes the cultivated atmosphere of the upper classes of the second and third centuries AD. It suggests the type of the learned gentleman, and his mental furniture. The overall effect is captivating; it is not only because of its good fortune in surviving that the Bibliotheca has exerted such an influence on subsequent generations. Finally one may suggest that Apollodorus, though the prime surviving example of comprehensive Greek mythography from antiquity, like Diodorus 16 Cf. Delattre in this volume. 17 Quint. Inst. 1.8.18 remarks: His accedet enarratio historiarum, diligens quidem illa, non tamen usque ad supervacuum laborem occupata: nam receptas aut certe claris auctoribus memoratas exposuisse satis est. Persequi quidem quid quis umquam vel contemptissimorum hominum dixerit aut nimiae miseriae aut inanis iactantiae est, et detinet atque obruit ingenia melius aliis vacatura. ‘Furthermore there will be [for the grammaticus] the explanation of the stories, conscientious certainly but not taken to the point of superfluous labour; it suffices to set out either the standard versions or at least those recorded by acknowledged authorities. To track down everything that was ever said by anyone, no matter how contemptible they may be, is the mark either of unusual pedantry or vain boastfulness, and impedes or overwhelms talent better left free for other purposes.’



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behaves in some ways more like an historian than a mythographer. A paradoxical point, to be sure, and dependent, possibly in a circular way, upon a particular definition of mythographer (i. e. as one who does not behave like an historian). But let us put the matter this way: on a spectrum of attitudes one might adopt towards myth, Apollodorus is closer to the historian Diodorus (whose mythography, as we have seen, is informed by an historicising spirit) than he is to some mythographers. On the one hand, like the mythographers (and poets, for that matter), he treats myth as an autonomous sphere of discourse. He makes no attempt to explain myths away or defend their veracity. He simply tells them ‘straight’, as if they were true, though neither he nor his readers would have thought them to be true just as told (one may safely assume). He does not in every paragraph use expressions like ‘people say’; nor does he enter into a discussion of the nature of myth vs. history. We may also safely assume, as his tactful deployment of learning anyway suggests, that he is aware of the situation, but shares with his audience an understanding of myth as cultural capital. On the other hand, in drawing attention to the existence of variants while (crucially) providing only such variants as do not affect the substance of the tale – the one true myth – Apollodorus behaves more like Diodorus and the historians than like mythographers whose specialised and often outré approach to myth gives their works a ludic overtone, as if playing with variants were an end in itself. Such a spirit is alien to Apollodorus, most congenial, and impressive, of the ancient mythographers. This study has been able to give no more than initial impressions of a rich subject that could be expanded to include many different writers. Historians’ attitudes to their sources has been endlessly studied, with illuminating results; mythographers, on the other hand, not so much, perhaps because it might seem like a category mistake to treat myth as a matter of historical research. Those who would map Odysseus’ route make a similar mistake. But even in the Odyssey it is the interplay between mythical and real geography that give the work its special character; Odysseus is not, like Peter Pan, in Never-Never Land. So too, in the eyes of the ancients (and many moderns), myth has a symbiotic relationship with history, and the line between one and the other is often impossible to draw. Mythography from the beginning had to wrestle with this problem, and asking how each mythographer struck a balance in his particular time and place may tell us much about him, his mythography, and myth itself.

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Appendix Variants in Apollodorus a) Genealogical variants (alternative parentage, alternative names of offspring) While most of these variants are insignificant, some have substantial consequences (noted below). In several cases, also noted below, Apollodorus gives us information which implies a variant, but he does not say what that is (e. g. at 2.115 [2.5.11]). Usually the variant is, as the name implies, a variant appended to the main story. In some cases, however, the ‘variant’ is stated and then becomes the basis of the story Apollodorus chooses to tell at length (e. g. 3.118 [3.10.3]). Variants in parentheses (). * denotes a variant with a named source. 1.18 [1.3.4] Rhesus son of Strymon and Euterpe (son of Strymon and Calliope) 1.19* [1.3.5] Hera bore Hephaestus without a father (Homer says with Zeus) 1.25* [1.4.3]  Orion was earth-born (Pherecydes says son of Poseidon and Euryale) 1.32* [1.5.2] Triptolemus was son of Eleusis, according to Panyasis (Pherecydes says son of Oceanus and Ge) Giants were born at Phlegrae (at Pallene) 1.34 [1.6.1] Aetolus son of Endymion and a nymph (and Iphianassa) 1.57 [1.7.6] 1.76* [1.8.5] Tydeus son of Oeneus and Periboea (Peisandrus says Oeneus and his own daughter Gorge) 1.79 [1.8.6] Diomedes married Aegialea daughter of Adrastus (of Aegialeus) 1.87 [1.9.5] Perieres son of Aeolus (son of Cynortas son of Amyclas) [So his story is postponed to that point of the narrative (3.117 [3.10.3], 3.123 [3.10.4]). This genealogical variant makes a bigger difference than most.] 1.95 [1.9.10] Pelias married Anaxibia daughter of Bias (Phylomache daughter of Amphion) 1.104 [1.9.14] Opheltes son of Lycurgus and Eurydice (and Amphithea) 1.120 [1.9.21] Phineus son of Agenor (of Poseidon) 1.122 [1.9.21] The Harpy Nicothoe (also known as Aellopus) 1.123* [1.9.21] The Harpy Ocypete (also known as Ocythoe; Hesiod calls her Ocypode) 2.2* [2.1.1] Pelasgus son of Niobe (Acusilaus) / earthborn (Hesiod). Repeated 3.96 [3.8.1].



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2.5* [2.1.3] Io daughter of Iasus (Castor and many tragic poets say daughter of Inachus; Hesiod and Acusilaus say daughter of Peiren) 2.6* [2.1.3] Argos Panoptes: Pherecydes says son of Arestor, Asclepiades says son of Inachus, Cercops says he was son of Argos and Ismene daughter of Asopus, Acusilaus says he was earth-born 2.11* [2.1.4] According to Euripides Aegyptus and Danaus had two brothers Cepheus and Phineus 2.23* [2.1.5]  Nauplius married Clymene daughter of Catreus (tragic poets) / Philyra (Nostoi) / Hesione (Cercops) 2.25 [2.2.1] Iobates also known as Amphianax 2.25* [2.2.1] Proetus married Antea (Homer) / Stheneboea (tragic poets) 2.30 [2.3.1] Bellerophon killed his brother Deliades (or Peiren, or Alcimenes) 2.50 [2.4.5] Three candidates for Amphitryon’s mother 2.88 [2.5.5] Three candidates for Augeas’ father 2.115 [2.5.11] Antaeus was son of Ge according to some [variant implied but not stated] Europe daughter of Agenor (of Phoenix) 3.2 [3.1.1] 3.3* [3.1.1] Thasos son of Poseidon (Pherecydes says Cilix) 3.6 [3.1.2] Minos and Sarpedon quarreled over Miletus son of Apollo (over Atymnius son of Zeus) 3.7* [3.1.2] Minos married Pasiphae (Asclepiades says Crete daughter of Asterius) 3.22 [3.4.1] Some say the snake killed by Cadmus was an offspring of Ares [variant implied but not stated] 3.45* [3.5.6] Variants in the names and numbers of Niobe’s children (Hesiod, Herodorus, Homer and anon. cited) Niobe’s children Amphion and Chloris survived (Telesilla says 3.47* [3.5.6]  Amyclas and Meliboea) 3.55 [3.5.8] Some say Polynices, Eteocles, Ismene and Antigone were children of Euryganea daughter of Hyperphas. [This genealogical variant makes a big difference; the point is whether the mother of Oedipus’ children was also his own mother Iocaste/Epicaste. The source of the variant in Apollod. is probably the Oidipodeia; see fr. 1 West apud Paus. 9.5.11 and cf. Pherec. fr. 95.] 3.63 [3.6.3] Hippomedon son of Aristomachus (some say of Talaos). Some do not list Tydeus and Polynices among the seven, but name Eteoclus son of Iphis and Mecisteus instead 3.77 [3.6.8] Baton the charioteer of Amphiaraus (some say Elaton) 3.96 [3.8.1] Lycaon was son of Pelasgus and Meliboea (and Cyllene)

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3.100* [3.8.2] Callisto daughter of Lycaon (Eumelus) / a nymph (Hesiod) / daughter of Nycteus (Asius) / daughter of Ceteus (Pherecydes) 3.102* [3.9.1]  Elatus and Apheidas sons of Arcas by Leanira daughter of Amyclas / by Meganira daughter of Crocon (no source) / by a nymph Chrysopelia (Eumelus) 3.109* [3.9.2]  Atalante not a daughter of Iasus but of Schoenus (Hesiod) or Maenalus (Euripides); husband not Melanion but Hippomenes. [Though presented here as a mere genealogical variant, two elaborate traditions about the different Atalantai lurk behind this remark.] 3.117* [3.10.3] Perieres son of Cynortas married Gorgophone daughter of Perseus according to Stesichorus [variant implied but not stated] 3.118 [3.10.3] Asclepius was son of Arsinoe daughter of Leucippus (of Coronis daughter of Phlegyas) [Pindar etc.; it is this version Apollod. proceeds to tell. The genealogical variant – Laconian vs. Thessalian – is not trivial.] 3.121* [3.10.3] Zitatennest giving names of those raised from the dead by Asclepius: cited are Stesichorus’ Eriphyle, the Naupaktika, Panyasis, Orphics, Melesagoras; the list overlaps with that cited in Philodemus, Sextus Empiricus, scholia to Euripides and Pindar [interpolation? The section is unusually introduced by the expression ‘I have found some who say...’ which has no parallel in the Bibliotheca. But this is not a strong argument.] 3.127 [3.10.7] Helen daughter of Zeus and Leda (daughter of Zeus and Nemesis) [story of the egg told; the main story here. Another non-trivial genealogical variant.] Variants in the children of Menelaus (anonymous; Acusilaus; 3.133* [3.11.1]  Eumelus) 3.146 [3.12.3] Three candidates for wife of Laomedon 3.148 [3.12.5] Hecuba is daughter of Dymas / daughter of Cisseus / daughter of the river Sangarius and Metope [The name of Hecuba’s mother is a proverbially obscure mythographical detail: Suet. Tib. 70.3.] 3.156 [3.12.6] Asopus son of Oceanus and Tethys / Pero and Poseidon (Acusilaus) / Zeus and Eurynome 3.158* [3.12.6] Telamon brother of Peleus (Pherecydes says friend; son of Actaeus and Glauce) [another non-trivial variant] 3.176* [3.13.8] Three candidates for mother of Patroclus (two anonymously cited, third from Philocrates) 3.183* [3.14.4] Adonis son of Cinyras (of Phoenix and Alphesiboea according to Hesiod; of Theias and his daughter Smyrna according to Panyasis) [The last of these provides the basis for the narrative here.]



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3.187 [3.14.6] Amphictyon was son of Deucalion according to some, earthborn according to others 3.187 [3.14.6] Erichthonius son of Hephaestus and Atthis daughter of Cranaus / son of Hephaestus and Athena. [Apollod. tells the second story.] 3.206 [3.15.5] Aegeus son of Pandion (of Scyrius) Epitome 1.1 Sow of Crommyon named Phaea after the woman who raised it (some say it was offspring of Echidna and Typhon). 1.2 Sceiron son of Pelops (of Poseidon) 1.4 Damastes called Polypemon by some 1.16* Theseus carried off the Amazon Antiope (some say Melanippe, Simonides says Hippolyte) 3.23

Tenes son of Cycnus and Proclia (of Apollo)

6.28

Orestes married Hermione (some say Erigone)

b) Mythological variants (differences in the narrative) 1.20 [1.3.6] Prometheus struck Zeus on the head with the axe when Athena was born (some say Hephaestus) 1.27 [1.4.5] Orion was killed because he challenged Artemis at the discus (because he raped Opis) 1.72–3 [1.8.3] Alternative version of the death of Meleager (cited anonymously, but it’s from Homer Il. 9) 1.74–5* [1.8.4-5] Three brief accounts of the previous history of Oeneus’ second wife Periboea (cited from the Thebaid, Hesiod, and anon.) 1.76* [1.8.5] Three different reasons why Tydeus was exiled (cited from anon., the Alcmaeonis, and Pherecydes) 1.106 [1.9.15] Alcestis was sent back by Core (Heracles fought with Hades for her [cf. Eur. Alc.]) 1.118* [1.9.19] Four variant accounts of the part played by Heracles in the Argonautic expedition (cited from Herodorus, Pherecydes, Demaratus and Dionysius) 1.120 [1.9.21] Three different reasons why Phineus was blinded 1.123* [1.9.21] Different account of the end of the Harpies: they were not killed by the Boreadae but promised to leave Phineus alone (cited from Ap. Rhod.)

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1.140–1 [1.9.26] Different accounts of the origin, nature, and death of Talos 1.146 [1.9.28] Different account of the death of Medea’s children 2.26* [2.2.2] Daughters of Proetus driven mad because they refused the rites of Dionysus (Hesiod) / insulted the image of Hera (Acusilaus) 2.31* [2.3.1] The Chimaera was reared by Amisodarus (Homer) and was child of Typhon and Echidna (Hesiod). [In context this is not so much a variant as additional information, though there are variants attested on these points.] 2.34 [2.4.1] Some say Proetus raped his daughter Danae, while some say Zeus visited her as a shower of gold. [The first version is also attributed to Pindar (fr. 284) by a D-scholium on Il. 14.319, surely wrongly; it is a rationalisation.] 2.46 [2.4.3] Some say that Medusa was killed because she challenged Athena in a contest of beauty 2.62* [2.4.8] Hera introduced snakes into Heracles’ crib (Pherecydes says it was Amphitryon) 2.94 [2.5.7] The Cretan bull, according to Acusilaus, was that which carried Europa across the sea (others say it was the one sent up by Poseidon in response to Minos’ prayer) 2.113 [2.5.11] The apples of the Hesperides were not in Libya, as some say, but on Mt Atlas among the Hyperboreans 2.121 [2.5.11] Some say Heracles did not get the apples from Atlas but killed the guardian snake himself. 2.148* [2.7.5] Amalthea’s horn was a cornucopia, as Pherecydes says [additional information; cf. 2.31 above] 3.24* [3.4.1] The Spartoi fell to fighting amongst themselves (Pherecydes says Cadmus threw a stone among them, which set them off) 3.25* [3.4.2] The necklace was given to Cadmus by Hephaestus (Pherecydes says by Europe, who got it from Zeus) 3.30* [3.4.4] Actaeon was killed because he saw Artemis bathing, as most say (Acusilaus says because he courted Semele) 3.57 [3.6.1] Two brief accounts of how Polynices and Eteocles quarrelled 3.70–2* [3.6.7]  Three accounts of how Tiresias lost his sight (anonymous; Pherecydes; Hesiod) 3.75* [3.6.8] Parthenopaeus was killed by Amphidicus (Euripides says by Peri­ clymenus) 3.86 [3.7.5] Some say Alcmaeon killed his mother by himself, some say he was assisted by his brother Amphilochus



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3.99 [3.8.2] The flood came about, some say, because of the wickedness of Lycaon’s sons [the variant is only implied, not stated] 3.100 [3.8.2] Zeus had intercourse with Callisto taking on the form, some say, of Artemis, some say of Apollo 3.101 [3.8.2] Artemis shot Callisto having been persuaded by Hera that she was a wild animal (some say that she was punished by Artemis for losing her virginity) 3.169 [3.13.5] Themis prophesied Thetis’ son would be stronger than his father (some say Prometheus; some say Thetis was reluctant to offend Hera, who brought her up) 3.179 [3.14.1] Judges of Poseidon and Athena for Attica not Cecrops and Cranaus as some say or Erysichthon but the twelve gods 3.189 [3.14.6] Two accounts of what killed the daughters of Cecrops: the snake; driven mad by Athena and leaped off the Acropolis 3.199* [3.15.2] Boreadae killed while pursuing the Harpies (Acusilaus says by Heracles on Tenos) 3.203 [3.15.4] The other daughters of Erechtheus killed themselves when the youngest was sacrificed (some said that they had make a pact to do so) [variant implied but not stated] 3.209 [3.15.7] Aegeus sent Androgeos son of Minos to be killed by the bull of Marathon (some say he was killed by his fellow-competitors at the funeral games of Laeus) Epitome 1.7 Theseus included on list of Minotaur’s victims (some say he volunteered) 1.17 During the wedding of Phaedra and Theseus the Amazon, his former wife, came with her companions to kill the guests, but they killed her (some say she was killed by Theseus) 2.1 Tantalus was punished, according to some, because he revealed the secrets of the gods and tried to give his friends ambrosia [variant implied but not stated] 2.4 Oenomaus would not let his daughter marry because, as some say, he was in love with her himself, or as others say, because an oracle said his son-in-law would kill him 2.5 Twelve suitors killed according to some authorities [variant implied but not stated] 2.6 Oenomaus killed when his chariot fell apart (some say Pelops killed him)

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3.1 It was the will of Zeus that his daughter Helen would cause war between Europe and Asia (some say it was to ensure that the demigods would win glory) 3.5 Some people say that Helen went to Egypt and a phantom went to Troy 3.22 Iphigenia spirited away to the Tauroi (some people say Artemis made her immortal) 5.6 Trojans acted as judges regarding the arms of Achilles (some say the allies judged). [The Trojans and Athena are judges at Od. 11.542 ff.; the allies according to Pind. Nem. 8.26. Pindar probably follows the Cycle, which is where Apollodorus’ narrative comes from.] 5.14* Odysseus put 50 of the bravest men into the Wooden Horse (author of the Little Iliad says †3,000). 5.24 Odysseus received Hecuba (some accounts say she was given to Helenus and that she was later turned into a bitch) 6.14 Neoptolemus was killed by Orestes at Delphi (some say he went there to demand reparation from Apollo for the death of his father, caused havoc and was killed by Machaireus) 6.19 According to some accounts Amphilochus was driven by a storm to the land of Mopsus and they killed each other in combat [variant implied but not stated] 6.25 Orestes indicted by the Furies / by Tyndareus / by Erigone daughter of Ae­gisthus and Clytaemnestra 6.27 Orestes brought the statue from the Tauri to Athens (others say Rhodes) 6.31 Some say Menelaus found Helen in Egypt [variant implied but not stated] 7.1 Odysseus wandered to Libya / to Sicily / around Ocean and the Tyrrhenian Sea 7.38 Variants about the subsequent fates of Penelope and Odysseus Total number of variants: 114 (59 type a, 55 type b) = one variant approximately every 1.5 pages of continuous Greek (counting each passage above as one variant). No appreciable difference in the rate of variants in Bibl. vs. Epit. Naming sources is, however, much less frequent in Epit.: 2 times out of 25 (vs. 38 out of 89 in Bibl.).



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Bibliography Cameron, Alan. Greek Mythography in the Roman World (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2004). Cuartero i Iborra, Francesc J. Pseudo-Apol·lodor, Biblioteca Vol. 1 (Barcelona: Fundació Bernat Metge, 2010). Dräger, Paul. Apollodor: Bibliotheke. Götter- und Heldensagen (Düsseldorf and Zurich: Artemis & Winkler, 2005). Fowler, Robert L. Early Greek Mythography 2. Commentary (Oxford: University Press, 2013). Fowler, Robert L. (forthcoming). Greek Mythography, in: The Wiley-Blackwell Companion to the Reception of Classical Myth, edited by V. Zajko (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell). Gantz, Timothy. Early Greek Myth. A Guide to Literary and Artistic Sources (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993). Lightfoot, J. L. Parthenius of Nicaea. Extant works edited with introduction and commentary (Oxford: University Press, 1999). Michels, Johanna. Crouching Cow, Killing Dragon. Agenorid Myth in Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, III.1–56. A Philological Commentary (Diss. Leuven, 2014) Robert, Carl. Die griechische Heldensage (Berlin: Weidmann, 1920–1926). Roscher, Wilhelm H. et al. Ausführliches Lexikon der griechischen und römischen Mythologie (Leipzig: Teubner, 1884–1937). van Rossum-Steenbeek, Monique. Greek Readers’ Digests? Studies on a Selection of Subliterary Papyri (Leiden: Brill, 1998). Rusten, Jeffrey S. Dionysius Scytobrachion (Papryologica Coloniensia 10) (Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1982). Sacks, Kenneth S. Diodorus and his Sources: Conformity and Creativity, in: Greek Historiography, edited by S. Hornblower (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994) 213–232 Scarpi, Paolo & Maria G. Ciani (ed.). Apollodoro. I miti greci (Biblioteca), Fondazione Lorenzo Valla (Milano: Mondadori, 1996). Smith, R Scott & Stephen M. Trzaskoma. Apollodorus’ Library and Hyginus’ Fabulae. Two Handbooks of Greek Mythology (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2007). Söder, Anna. Quellenuntersuchung zum 1. Buch der Apollodorschen Bibliothek, Diss. Würzburg (Würzburg: Becker, 1939). Szczurek, Przemysław. Source or Sources of Diodorus’ Account of Indian satī/Suttee (Diod. Sic. 19.33–34.6)?, in: The Children of Herodotus: Greek and Roman Historiography and Related Genres, edited by J. Pigoń (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2008), 119–143. Trzaskoma, Stephen M. Citation, Organization, and Authorial Presence in Ps.-Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca, in: Writing Myth: Mythography in the Ancient World, edited by S.M. Trzaskoma, R.S. Smith (Leuven: Peeters, 2013), 75–94. Wiater, Nicolas. Geschichtsschreibung und Kompilation: Diodors historiographische Arbeitsmethode und seine Vorstellungen von zeitgemäßer Geschichtsschreibung. Rh. Mus. 149 (2006), 248–271. Wiemer, Hans-Ulrich. Zeno of Rhodes and the Rhodian View of the Past, in: Polybius and his World. Essays in Memory of F.W. Walbank, edited by B. Gibson, T. Harrison (Oxford: University Press, 2013), 279–306.

Charles Delattre

12 Apollodorus’ Text: Experimental Layout and Edition 1 Preliminary remarks I would like to examine the problem of the revision and publication of Apollodorus from a particular angle: how did his readers in Antiquity read and consult him? If one admits that the text of Apollodorus is part of a mythographical, and, more broadly, exegetical tradition,1 this would entail that the text authorizes – even favors – a particular reading: namely, one that aims for the reader to acquire information. The utilitarian nature of this text distinguishes it, therefore, from works that, though possessing meaning, do not produce information of which the reader may later make use.2 At first glance, Apollodorus’ writing constitutes a challenge for a reader who is seeking information. Due to its density, to the accumulation of proper names and episodes, and to its uninterrupted structure, the text does not seem suitable for study, but rather for a continuous act of reading whose use for the reader is questionable. How should a reader of Apollodorus find his way in this text? The argumentation which follows is based on two postulates. First, the particular nature of a phrase in ancient Greek, and especially its syntactical organization, might provide indications as to how this phrase functions for the reader. For a mythographer the choice of whether to make use of a catalogue or a narration is not indifferent; nor is the preferring of a single authorial voice

Note: English translation by Alexander Block. 1 On the insertion of the mythographical corpus in the written tradition of commentary, see Cameron 2004. I use here the term “mythography” with reference to the modern corpus that has been assembled with this name since Westermann, without judging however its coherence or status. On the problematic definition of this word, see Delattre 2013, 92–94. 2 This type of reading pertains to “information retrieval,” a branch of cultural studies now dominated by indexation and linked more broadly to the problems of corpora/libraries and the creation of knowledge. See the works by K. Spärck Jones (in particular 1971 and 1986), as well as the articles collected in the volume dedicated to her by J. I. Tait 2005. Charles Delattre, Université de Paris Ouest Nanterre DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-012



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to the alternation of question and response.3 This means that the reader is not only the recipient of meaning, but takes an active part in the production of meaning. The complex cognitive operation in which he engages combines the acts of deciphering, finding his bearings, organizing and interpreting – sometimes fluidly and continuously, other times discretely.4 Secondly, the text’s arrangement, its formation on the page – whether it be a column on papyrus, the rectangle of a tablet or the frame of a manuscript – can contribute to the reader’s production of meaning.5 Distinctive signs (punctuation, but also, since the 4th century BCE, paragraphos, accentuation, prosodic signs, colometrics, etc.)6 can help the reader, whether they be planned as part of the text’s transcription into a certain medium, or the reader adds them during his own operation of deciphering. Contemporary editorial practices do not match up with those of the ancient world or the Middle Ages. While they reproduce the letters of the text, generally they omit the text’s particular arrangement on the manuscripts or papyri and substitute for this arrangement a presentation which is neither neutral nor transparent.7 Without attempting to establish a diplomatic process of editing, the following will analyze several characteristics of Apollodorus’ writing in order to consider finally the possibility of new editorial practices.

3 Plutarch adopts this format, for example, in his Roman Questions and Greek Questions (treatises which are not specifically mythographical), as does Ampelius in Liber memorialis, 8 (Mirac­ ula quae in terris sunt?) and 9 (Quot fuere Ioues, uel ubi, dei deaeque?). This same format could be that of Hyginus, if one agrees to change certain titles edited as indirect questions into direct questions (Delattre 2013, 99–102). 4 These operations partly run parallel to encoding, decoding, identification and comprehension as defined for the act of reading by cognitive psychology. One would need to place the condition, however, that these acts be not restricted to the deciphering of alphabetical characters, but rather extended to include the apprehension of larger discrete units (syllables, nouns, expressions). 5 For the diversity of page-layout practices from the classical to the Roman ages, see Cavallo and Maehler 2008, 19. 6 Classical reflections on rhythm, pauses and punctuation have been collected by Hubert 1970. See also Cavallo and Maehler 2008, 19–20, as well as Irigoin 2003 (in particular 197–198). This technical and practical dimension of reading is often forgotten by specialists in literacy: it is not examined by Harris (1989), nor by Small (1997), nor by Thomas (1992), nor by Carr (2005). Collective editions often also forget to examine the paragraphos, of which there is no mention in Yunis (2003), nor in the articles brought together by Johnson and Parker (2009), nor in those edited by Minchin (2012). 7 Epigraphists and papyrologists, who are very careful to transcribe the material conditions of the text’s medium and the text’s layout, are an obvious exception.

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2 Hyginus and Apollodorus: What Page Layout? When consulting a modern edition of Hyginus’ Fables, one cannot help but be struck by the differences it shows in respect to editions of Apollodorus. Two diverging editorial traditions have evidently developed for each of these texts, even though they are both generally defined as “manuals of mythography” from the imperial age. Ever since the princeps edition, published in 1535 by Jacob Micyllus from a manuscript that is now largely lost, the text of Hyginus has been divided into 277 notes or segments, identified by their titles and by their order numbers. Both the title and the order number provide an organizational principle for a table of contents, Per capita Index, which precedes the text.8

Beginning of the Fabularum Hygini per capita index, in the volume published in 1578 in Paris by Jean Parant from J. Micyllus’ 1535 edition. This volume has been digitalized by the Centre d’Études Supérieures de la Renaissance at the Université de Tours for the project “Bibliothèques Virtuelles Humanistes”.

The table of contents serves here as an external tool to refer quickly and easily to passages in the text. Furthermore, the table underscores the text’s internal separation, its fragmentation into segments that are independent from each other. Without necessarily subscribing to the harsh judgments passed by editors at the beginning of the 20th century,9 J.-Y. Boriaud, in 1997 for the Collection des Universités de France (Belles Lettres), and P. K. Marshall, in 2002 with the publisher

8 The genealogical catalogue which runs from the original caligo to Geryon, son of Chrysaor and Callirrhoe, is not included in the Per capita Index and seems to constitute a separate text. 9 For example, Rose, in his 1934 introduction to the Fables (Loeb Classical Library), qualifies the author as an adulescentem imperitum, semidoctum, stultum, and Cameron (2004, 33) still writes of the low intellectual level of the Fables and the Astronomy.



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K. G. Saur, have meticulously respected this arrangement, as have most recent translators.10 Nevertheless, it remains false to say that the text of Hyginus is organized into a catalogue of autonomous segments, even if the page layout and the insertion of line breaks between the segments, as well as the insertion of a title and order number at the beginning of each text, might lead the reader to perceive it as such. There exists an ordering of the text that fully contradicts this partition which modern editors have organized. Certain descriptive segments – those that justify the title Fabulae given to the text and which offer a narration centered on one character – are rather organized in cycles. Taking as an example the first five segments (Themisto, Ino, Phrixus, Ino alia Euripidis, Athamas), one can easily see that the first three group together in a narrative continuum. The text describes the descendants of Athamas, and more specifically the fate of the children he begot with three women, Themisto, Ino and Nebula. The text follows a coherent chronological thread that leads to the flight of the children of Nebula, Phrixus and Helle. The narration’s unity is assured by the duplication of a motif: the plotting of a reigning mother against the children of her rival, the unexpected death of the wife’s children and the equally unforeseen survival of the rival’s children. The fourth segment offers a variation attributed to Euripides, which reuses certain terms from the first three segments while nonetheless condensing the narration. Finally, the fifth segment also presents a variation of the fate of one of Athamas’ children, a variation that may just as easily be attached to the general narration as to the first variation. Order number Title

Content

Status

I

Themisto

II

Ino

III

Phrixus

IV

Ino alia Euripidis Themisto’s plot against Ino’s children; variation 1 death of Ino’s and Themisto’s children

V

Athamas

Themisto’s plot against Ino’s children; complete narration: death of her own children Athamas’ three unions and his descendants Ino’s plot against Nebula’s children; death of her own children flight of Nebula’s children

death of one of Athamas’ sons

variation 2 (or variation of variation 1)

10 Most notably Smith and Trzaskoma in their translation (2007) and del Hoyo and J. M. García Ruiz (2009).

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It is clear that the descriptive titles that one can find in every modern publication since Micyllus’ 1535 edition do not allow one to define these segments’ statuses and are not even appropriate for the text’s content. The title Athamas (§5) is particularly unsuited for a paragraph about the specific fate of Athamas’ son Learchus, and the same can be said for Phrixus (§4), which leaves out any mention of Helle and abolishes the explicit link that unites Nebula’s children with Ino’s and Themisto’s. The genealogical segments, particularly numerous in the final section of the Fabulae, present an opposite situation: the descriptive titles are clearly adapted to describe the content of the different lists that the author enumerates. Yet, even here, the simple accumulation of titles does not reflect the particularly rigorous organization of the text. That certain segments should be grouped together can be seen, for example, by the fact that some titles are not understandable save in combination with each other. If §226 begins with an explicit title, Quae mortales cum Ioue concubuerunt, it is necessary to suppose the same verb concubuerunt to make explicit the titles of the six following segments, Quae cum Apolline (§227), Quae cum Neptuno (§228), Quae cum Mercurio (§229), Quae cum Libero (§230), Quae cum Marte (§231) and Quae cum Aquilone (§232). Moreover, these titles form an integral part of the text in its current state and often include terms which the list does not develop or mention, thus becoming indispensable for the comprehension of each segment. If the titles cannot be understood except when read together, it follows that their corresponding segments constitute parts of a group, and that it is thus necessary to give a new title to the ensemble. This title would have to be founded upon the term concubuerunt and would need to summarize its parts: for example, Quae mortales cum deo concubuerunt. Yet there is more: it can be demonstrated that there exists a general structuring of the text for the segments 221 to 248. This structuring makes each list the result of a general method of reasoning, the branch of a thematic stemma that develops in successive separations and outgrowths.11 The first three lists of this series are subdivisions created from a common factor, namely, the number seven: the catalogue of the seven wise men (Septem sapientes, §221), that of the seven lyrical poets (Septem lyrici, §222), and that of the seven wonders of the world (Septem opera mirabilia, §223) form a small unity. The two following catalogues, Qui facti sunt ex mortalibus immortales (§224) and Qui primi templa deorum constituerunt (§225) appear condemned to remain isolated.

11 See the table in Appendix 1.



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Finally, the twenty following segments are organized in successive groups and ultimately result from a distinction both in terms of action and in terms of gender: the  ­distinction between “the women who slept with someone” (quae concubuerunt) and “the individuals” (men or women according to the author’s ­subdivisions) “who killed” (qui occiderunt). One can thus produce a minimized list that is composed of limited words and from which the text as a whole would derive. More than a table of contents, here one may see a genuine matrix of the text. Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca, on the other hand, offers an exactly opposite situation. Generally speaking, the text is presented in paragraphs that are accumulated without interruption and that lack both titles and line breaks. In Aegius’ princeps edition from 1599, a division into paragraphs does not even exist: the Bibliotheca is but a long single text that is presented in columns over the course of the pages.12 To help the reader find his way in the work, the editor offers only one possibility: a numbering of every five lines that begins anew with each page, and thus does not allow one to apprehend the text in its totality, but only in the material space of the page being read. The page division has no connection with the text’s meaning, since the passage from one page to the next is the result only of typographical criteria, not of any thematic divisions in the text. Luckily, not every modern edition is as lacking in markers and indicators for the reader. In a Latin translation by the very same Aegius, published in 1578 in  Paris by J. Parant as a companion to Hyginus’ Fables, the text is accompanied by marginal indications that summarize the text by mentioning a character judged to be important (for example, for the “prologue,” Caelus primus princeps; Telluris filii Centimani cur dicti; Saturnus pro Ioue lapidem deuorat). But these indications are not systematic and punctuate the text without organizing it. What is more, some of these indications have other functions: sometimes they comment upon the text (Corybantes. Straboni lib. 10 κούρητες to explain Cureti­ bus), other times they correct it (Iapetum in the margin before Impetum, Dictaeo before Dibaeo).

12 Aegius introduces, nevertheless, a division into three books that is unattested in the manuscripts, but of which different scholia A to Homer bear witness (cf. Wagner in his edition of Apollodorus, note p. 5).

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Translation of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca by Aegius (1.1.1 [1] and 1.1.6 [5]), published in 1578 in Paris by Jean Parant. This volume has been digitalized by the Centre d’Études Supérieures de la Renaissance at the Université de Tours for the project “Bibliothèques Virtuelles Humanistes”.

For J. Parant, the aim is not to organize the text in order to facilitate its apprehension, but to add to it the equivalent of footnotes or a rudimentary critical apparatus. One can distinguish this practice from that of Passerat’s 1605 translation and of Clavier’s 1805 translation, in which the text is divided into chapters (without titles). From Wagner’s 1894 edition to contemporary editions, two different numbering systems can be used to help the reader find his way in the text. Nevertheless, even if these two systems permit one to group the text by themes, they impose a harmonization whose very principle may be debated: they give the impression that the text contains a continuous thread and develops as if it were a colossal narration. This may indeed be related to the text’s form: the author has coordinated all his sentences, including those which begin modern paragraphs, most often with a δέ, an element which contributes to the impression of an uninterrupted text. Titles have been sometimes given to certain divisions of the text. Smith and Trzaskoma’s translation provides one remarkable example, perhaps influenced



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by the text of Hyginus contained in the same volume.13 Whereas a rather limited table of contents only indicates a general first chapter (“I. Theogony 1.1–44,” p. xxxiii), subtitles have been added to the paragraphs of the Bibliotheca. Thus the reader has the possibility of recreating a Per capita index that would be analogous to that of Hyginus: Book 1: The Gods and the Lineage of Deucalion §1–2 §3 §3–5 §6–7 §8–12 §13 §14–18 §19 §20 §21–23 §24 §25–28 §29–33 §34–38 §39–45

Ouranos, Ge, and Their Offspring Overthrow of Ouranos; Cronos Cronos’ Reign; Zeus’ Birth Battle against the Titans (Titanomachy) Offspring of the Titans and Other Early Gods Divine Offspring of Zeus Offspring of the Muses Hephaistos Athena Daughters of Coios; Apollo and Artemis Marsyas Orion Rape of Persephone The Giants Typhon

The subtitles refer either to a character considered as most important in the passage (Ouranos, Ge, and Their Offspring) or to the central action of the story (Overthrow of Ouranos). However, simply reading the list of subtitles, one can glean how piecemeal its organization is. The list would lead one to think that the Bibliotheca is a discontinuous text, without order or rationale. This is also the impression brought out by K. Brodersen’s edition and translation, which only provides a very general plan to the text (pp. v–vi), or by J.-Cl. Carrière and B. Massonie’s translation, which does not offer any. Nor do P. Scarpi and M.-G. Ciani give any indication regarding the text’s organization. On the other hand, the tables for comparison offered at the end of their volume, as well as the thematic indices developed by Ch. Cremonesi, offer by contrast an interesting contribution to this question.14

13 Smith and Trzaskoma 2007. 14 Brodersen 2004; Carrière and Massonie 1991; Scarpi 1996; Cremonesi 2000.

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The same impression of disorder results from consulting the detailed table of contents of R. Wagner’s 1894 edition, and also that of F. Cuartero:15

Wagner (1894)

Cuartero (2010)

1. Theogonia 1 1-44. 1 Caeli et Terrae progenies: Centimani, Cyclopes, Titanes 1s. Titanes Caelum perdunt (Furiarum origo). Saturni et Rheae liberi (Iovis natales) 4s. Iuppiter Titanes vincit et cum ­ fratribus regnum partitur 6s. Titanum ­progenies 8s. Ponti et Terrae progenies 10–12. Iovis liberi procreati ex Iunone, Themide, Dione, Eurynome, Styge, ­Mnemosyne (Musae) 13. Musarum filii: Calliopes Linus et Orpheus 14s., Clius ­ Hyacinthus (Thamyris) 16s., ­ Euterpes Rhesus, Thaliae Corybantes, Melpomenes Sirenes 18. Vulcanus 19. Minervae natales 20. Asteria, Latona, Dianae et Apollinis ortus 21. Apollo occidit Pythonem 22, Tityum 23, Marsyam 24, Diana Orionem 25–27. Neptuni et Amphitrites liberi 28. Pluto Proserpinam rapit. Ceres Eleusinem venit (Triptolemus). Proserpina apud P ­lutonem manet (Ascalaphus) 29–33. Gigantomachia 34–38. Typhon 39–44.

I. Teogonia [I 1-44] Els descendents d’Úranos i de Gea: Els ­Hecatonquirs, els Ciclops, els Titans [§ 1–2].Els Titans enderroquen Úranos. Naixement de les Erínies [§ 3].- Els fills de Cronos i de Rea. Naixement i infantesa de Zeus [§ 4–5].Zeus enderroca Cronos i es reparteix el món amb els seus germans [§ 6–7].- Descendència dels Titans [§ 8–9].- Els descendents de Pontos i de Gea [§ 10–12]. Els fills de Zeus: amb Hera, amb Temis, amb Dione, amb Eurínome, amb Èstix, amb Mnemòsine (les Muses) [§ 13].- Els fills de les Muses: de Cal·líope, Linos i Orfeu [§ 14–15]; de Clio, Hiacint i Tàmiris [§ 16– 17]; d’Euterpe, Resos; de Talia, els Coribants; de Melpòmene, les Sirenes [§ 18].- Nai­ xement d’Hefest [§ 19].- Naixement d’Atena [§ 20].- Les filles de Ceos, Astèria i Leto. Nai­ xement d'Àrtemis i d’Apol·lo [§ 21].- Les fetes d’Apol·lo i Àrtemis: Apol·lo dóna mort a Pitó i ocupa Delfos [§ 22]; mort de Tici [§ 23], de Màrsias [§ 24]; història d’Orió [§ 25–27]. Els fills de Posidó i Amfitrite [§ 28]. Rapte de Persèfone. Demèter arriba a Eleusis: missió de Triptòlem [§ 29–32].- Persèfone reparteix l’any entre Hades i l’Olimp. Càstig d’Ascàlaf [§ 33]. La guerra dels déus i els Gegants [§ 34–38].La guerra contra Tifó [§ 39–44].

15 Guidorizzi proposes a detailed table of contents similar to that of Wagner and Cuartero (2010, XLVII–LII). Heyne’s edition (1803) does not contain a table of contents. In regards to ­Clavier’s translation (1805), the “table of contents” is actually rather an index of characters (pp. 1–150), which otherwise sometimes takes the form of a reformulation. For Heracles, for example (pp.  67–73), the references have been reorganized in biographical order in order to create an uninterrupted segment, from his birth to his pyre, with as a conclusion a list of his descendants, union by union. Clavier has thus transformed an index into a mythographical description founded only upon the text of Apollodorus.



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How should one explain the mention of the rape of Persephone (Pluto ­Proserpinam rapuit / “Rapte de Persèfone”) in this location of the text (§1.29 [1.5.1])? Is it necessary to imagine – or rather to create – an artificial logical link with the preceding or following paragraphs, or to hold that the history of Persephone arrives almost by chance or as a function of sources that A ­ pollodorus reproduces, without any further consideration? The simple thematic definition of subsets in this text is clearly not sufficient to justify its ordering. This visible disorganization of the text is not without foundation: as the excerpts of Apollodorus selected and recopied in the 13th century in the Sabbaiticus Hierosolymitanus 366 demonstrate, it is necessary to cut and regroup the text of the Bibliotheca if one is to create autonomous segments (for example, concerning the Minotaur or the Aeacides). These excerpts are furthermore presented with titles, as if the text of Apollodorus had entered into a new edition where it became a catalogue of coherent mythographical segments and therefore a manual easily put to use: Title in the Sabbaiticus Hierosolymitanus 366

Corresponding text of Apollodorus

1

Ἱστορία περὶ τοῦ Μινωταύρου

3.8–11 [3.1.3–4]; 3.214 [3.15.8–9]; 3.215 [3.15.9]; 3.207–209 [3.15.6– 7]; 3.216 [3.16.1]; 3.217 [3.16.1]; Epit. 1.5–9

2

Περὶ τῆς διαβολῆς Φαίδρας εἰς Ἱππόλυτον

Epit., 1.11 ; Epit. 1.16–19

3

[Aeacides]

3.156–159 [3.12.6]; 3.158 [3.12.6]; 3.159 [3.12.6]; 3.163 [3.13.1]; 3.168 [3.13.4]; 3.170–172 [3.13.5–6]; 3.174 [3.13.8]; 3.175 [3.13.8]

4

Κτήτορες τῆς Ἰλίου τε καὶ Τροὶας καὶ τῶν ἐποίκων αὐτῶν

3.138–145 [3.12.1–3]; 3.147–151  [3.12.4–5]; 3.154 [3.12.6]; 3.155 [3.12.6]

5

Περὶ Ἀσκληπίου

3.117–122 [3.10.3–4]

6

Περὶ Κάδμου

3.21–29 [3.3.2–4.3]

7

Περὶ Ἀκταίωνος καὶ ὡς ὑπὸ τῶν ἑαυτοῦ διεσπάσθη κυνῶν

3.30 [3.4.4]; 3.31 [3.4.4]

8

Περὶ Ζήθου καὶ Ἀμφίονος

3.42–45 [3.5.5–6]

The existing tables of contents and the arrangement of the text of Apollodorus in modern editions do not resolve, therefore, a crucial question: that of its organization and so its manner of consultation. It is now time to come to a more precise examination of the text. To do this, I will concentrate on the first 44 paragraphs,

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which are generally considered to compose a homogenous unity, a “theogony” which is evidently related to that of Hesiod.

3 The Narrative Tools of Apollodorus: Catalogue and Narration The text of Apollodorus is better understood after one has taken the time to characterize its form. The author is unique (at least in the Greek mythographical corpus as we have it) in refusing to use for his text a catalogue of question and response, a thematic anthology (a path taken by Parthenius of Nicaea and Antoninus Liberalis), or a catalogue of segments, as seen in Palaephatus and Heraclitus. Nor does he adopt an approximately alphabetical method of ordering, even though this method is attested by a papyrus from the end of the second century / beginning of the third century that presents short mythographical pieces introduced by the name of their main character.16 Like Hyginus, Apollodorus makes use of two specific types of speech, the catalogue and the narration. However, he differs markedly from Hyginus by only relating genealogical lists, but not any other thematic catalogue, and by mixing lists and narrations. The beginning paragraphs of the Bibliotheca may serve as witness for the different types of figures that organize the text as a whole. With Apollodorus, as with many other writers, the narration may seem to take a rather uncomplicated form: characters are identified by a name and a genealogy, the text follows a chronological concatenation of actions, and the possible mention of feelings (anger, fear, etc.) comes in only as a causal factor to coordinate events of the story. For example, at 1.6 [1.2.1], the appearance of Metis as Zeus’ collaborator begins the narration of the battle of son against father, with each episode clearly distinguished from the others by a succession of verbs or by temporal modifiers (πρῶτον / ἔπειτα, ἐνιαυτοὺς δέκα).

16 P. Mich., inv. 1447 = n° 70 van Rossum-Steenbeck. Only col. II is now readable. It includes descriptions of Actaeon, Arethusa, the Aethuiae, Alcyone and Ascalaphus. Col. I most likely contains a segment devoted to Aglaurus, since line 21 seems to be about Cecrops or the Cecropides (]τωι̣κεκρο). The papyrus does not seem to be part of a general mythographical manual, but rather a collection devoted to metamorphoses.



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ἐπειδὴ δὲ Ζεὺς ἐγενήθη τέλειος, λαμβάνει Μῆτιν τὴν Ὠκεανοῦ συνεργόν, ἣ δίδωσι Κρόνῳ καταπιεῖν φάρμακον, ὑφ᾿ οὗ ἐκεῖνος ἀναγκασθεὶς πρῶτον μὲν ἐξεμεῖ τὸν λίθον, ἔπειτα τοὺς παῖδας οὓς κατέπιε· μεθ᾿  ὧν Ζεὺς τὸν πρὸς Κρόνον καὶ Τιτᾶνας ἐξήνεγκε πόλεμον. μαχομένων δὲ αὐτῶν ἐνιαυτοὺς δέκα ἡ Γῆ τῷ Διὶ ἔχρησε τὴν νίκην, τοὺς καταταρταρωθέντας ἂν ἔχῃ συμμάχους· ὁ δὲ τὴν φρουροῦσαν αὐτῶν τὰ δεσμὰ Κάμπην ἀποκτείνας ἔλυσε.

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When Zeus became an adult, he took Metis daughter of Oceanos as his accomplice, and she gave Cronos a drug to swallow. Under its influence he was forced first to vomit up the stone, then the children that he had swallowed. Along with them Zeus fought the war against Cronos and the Titans. They had been fighting for ten years when Ge foretold that Zeus would be victorious if he took as allies those who had been thrown into Tartaros. He killed Campe, who guarded them, and loosed their bindings.17

It is easy to forget that the mythographical narration in general is not a naked form, but on the contrary a particular method of giving form to a text, a method with its own concomitant effects.18 Apollodorus also leaves his mark on the text, with the multiplication of syntactical sequences (participles, genitive absolutes, relatives), the marked use of an alternation between aorist and historical present and the occasional insertion of explicative parentheses introduced not only by γάρ, but also by δέ.19 The Bibliotheca’s type of narration thus differs sharply from other narrative forms, for example those that one finds in the hypotheseis analyzed by M. Van Rossum-Steenbeeck,20 or those that organize the diegemata of Libanius.21 Genealogical indications appear beginning with the second sentence of the Bibliotheca and play an important role in the text. When this kind of indication only states a patronymic, matronymic or single descendant, it passes almost unnoticed and melts in with the narration. But when it includes more than one name, several structures are conceivable. 1. If two names are mentioned, then the sentence is structured by an opposition, either with the help of temporal expressions (πρώτον / μετὰ τοῦτον), or with the help of postpositive particles (μέν / δέ). For this same oppositional structure, Apollodorus remarkably also makes use of gender indications

17 The translations of Apollodorus are those of Trzaskoma (Smith and Trzaskoma 2007). 18 On the use of narrative form and its consequences, see Delattre 2013, 102–105. 19 For example, for the name Tartarus at 1.2 [1.1.2]: τόπος δὲ οὗτος ἐρεβώδης ἐστὶν ἐν Ἅιδου, τοσοῦτον ἀπὸ γῆς ἔχων διάστημα ὅσον ἀπ᾿ οὐρανοῦ γῆ (“it is a shadowy place like Erebus that is located in the house of Hades, as far removed from the earth as the earth is from the heavens”). 20 Rossum-Steenbeek 1998, 53–55, with a distinction between discourse, nominal and hybrid hypotheses. 21 Lib. Prog. 2.1–41.

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to organize the description of descendants, in the form of a pair “son” and “daughter” (παῖδα μέν / θυγατέρα δέ). 2. If the genealogy includes three names or more, it can become completely integrated into the text. Thus, at 1.4 [1.1.5], the names of Cronus’ children, which are here given in the text for the very first time, appear in the framework of an action that the enumeration leaves uninterrupted: Ἑστίαν κατέπιεν, εἶτα Δήμητραν καὶ Ἥραν, μεθ᾿  ἃς Πλούτωνα καὶ Ποσειδῶνα (“he swallowed the firstborn, Hestia, then Demeter and Hera, and, after them, Pluto and Poseidon”). 3. The text frequently changes into a list when a sequence of names goes beyond a certain length. In this case, Apollodorus often introduces a generic term of announcement (παῖδας), sometimes clarified by gender identity (παῖδας μέν / θυγατέρας δέ)22 or a generic noun (ἑκατόγχειρας, Κύκλωπας, Τιτᾶνας, Τιτανίδας, etc.), after which he provides a list of names associated without conjunctions. For example, at 1.2 [1.1.3], τεκνοῖ δὲ αὖθις ἐκ Γῆς παῖδας μὲν τοὺς Τιτᾶνας προσαγορευθέντας, Ὠκεανὸν Κοῖον Ὑπερίονα Κρεῖον Ἰαπετὸν καὶ νεώτατον ἁπάντων Κρόνον, θυγατέρας δὲ τὰς κληθείσας Τιτανίδας, Τηθὺν Ῥέαν Θέμιν Μνημοσύνην Φοίβην Διώνην Θείαν.

Then [Ouranos] had more children with Ge – sons who were called the Titans, namely Oceanos, Coios, Hyperion, Creios, Iapetos, and, youngest of them all, Cronos; and also daughters, called the Titanesses, namely Tethys, Rhea, Themis, Mnemosyne, Phoibe, Dione, and Theia.

The genealogical text which takes the place of the narration is thus equivalent to a table that combines different criteria: Parent

Status (and gender) Generic name Proper name

Οὐρανὸς ἐκ Γῆς παῖδας θυγατέρας

Τιτᾶνας

Ὠκεανὸν Κοῖον Ὑπερίονα Κρεῖον Ἰαπετὸν καὶ νεώτατον ἁπάντων Κρόνον

Τιτανίδας

Τηθὺν Ῥέαν Θέμιν Μνημοσύνην Φοίβην Διώνην Θείαν

22 The term παῖδα(ς), when taken by itself, thus refers to all of the descendants as a whole, whereas, when coupled with θυγατέρα(ς), it designates only the male descendants.



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These two forms of writing – narration and list – can be combined in many ways. Some lists thus include a short definition immediately after each name. A story, anecdote, individual characteristic, or detail can also be added onto a genealogical list and develop it. For example, at 1.8 [1.2.3], one can read the text as continuing uninterrupted: Ἰαπετοῦ δὲ καὶ Ἀσίας Ἄτλας, ὃς ἔχει τοῖς ὤμοις τὸν οὐρανόν, καὶ Προμηθεὺς καὶ Ἐπιμηθεὺς καὶ Μενοίτιος, ὃν κεραυνώσας ἐν τῇ τιτανομαχίᾳ Ζεὺς κατεταρτάρωσεν.

Iapetos and Asia had Atlas, who holds the sky on his shoulders, Prometheus, Epimetheus, and Menoitios, whom Zeus threw down into Tartaros after striking him with a thunderbolt during the ­Titanomachy.

Nevertheless, the text constitutes in reality the combination into a single sentence of elements that can be clearly distinguished in a table of three columns: Parents

Proper name

Narrative extension

Ἰαπετός καὶ Ἀσία

Ἄτλας

ὃς ἔχει τοῖς ὤμοις τὸν οὐρανόν

Προμηθεύς Ἐπιμηθεύς Μενοίτιος

ὃν κεραυνώσας ἐν τῇ τιτανομαχίᾳ Ζεὺς κατεταρτάρωσεν.

The names of the two parents (Iapetus and Asia) are linked with the four names of their descendants (Atlas, Prometheus, Epimetheus and Menoetius); two of these (Atlas and Menoetius) are again characterized by a relative clause, with the ­relative pronoun playing the role of a beacon or indicator of the change in the text’s status. In an opposite manner, lists can also serve to complement a narration, or what is the same enter the narration repeatedly and break up, if not its order, at least its continuity. For example, in the first two paragraphs of the Bibliotheca (1.1–2 [1.1.1-3]), the story of the universe’s first age is rather simple: Uranus rules over the world and throws his children into Tartarus. But these two sentences, which outline the general framework and evolution of the story, introduce a series of complex genealogical descriptions. Here one can see a combination of starting points, generic names, lists of names and particular details for certain figures:

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Οὐρανὸς πρῶτος τοῦ παντὸς ἐδυνάστευσε κόσμου. γήμας δὲ Γῆν ἐτέκνωσε πρώτους τοὺς Ἑκατόγχειρας προσαγορευθέντας, Βριάρεων Γύην Κόττον, οἳ μεγέθει τε ἀνυπέρβλητοι καὶ δυνάμει καθειστήκεσαν, χεῖρας μὲν ἀνὰ ἑκατὸν κεφαλὰς δὲ ἀνὰ πεντήκοντα ἔχοντες. μετὰ τούτους δὲ [αὐτῷ τεκνοῖ Γῆ] Κύκλωπας, Ἄργην Στερόπην Βρόντην, ὧν ἕκαστος εἶχεν ἕνα ὀφθαλμὸν ἐπὶ τοῦ μετώπου. ἀλλὰ τούτους μὲν Οὐρανὸς δήσας εἰς Τάρταρον ἔρριψε (τόπος δὲ οὗτος ἐρεβώδης ἐστὶν ἐν Ἅιδου, τοσοῦτον ἀπὸ γῆς ἔχων διάστημα ὅσον ἀπ᾿ οὐρανοῦ γῆ), τεκνοῖ δὲ αὖθις ἐκ Γῆς παῖδας μὲν τοὺς Τιτᾶνας προσαγορευθέντας, Ὠκεανὸν Κοῖον Ὑπερίονα Κρεῖον Ἰαπετὸν καὶ νεώτατον ἁπάντων Κρόνον, θυγατέρας δὲ τὰς κληθείσας Τιτανίδας, Τηθὺν Ῥέαν Θέμιν Μνημοσύνην Φοίβην Διώνην Θείαν.

Ouranos was the first to rule the entire cosmos. Having married Ge, he first fathered the ones called “Hundred-Handers,” namely Briareos, Gyes, and Cottos, who stood unsurpassed in size and power, each with a hundred hands and each with fifty heads. After them Ge bore him the Cyclopes, namely Arges, Steropes, and Brontes, and each of them had a single eye on his forehead. But Ouranos bound them and threw them into Tartaros (this is a gloomy place in the house of Hades that is as far away from Ge as Ge is from Ouranos). Then he had more children with Ge – sons who were called the Titans, namely Oceanos, Coios, Hyperion, Creios, Iapetos, and, youngest of them all, Cronos; and also daughters, called the Titanesses, namely Tethys, Rhea, Themis, Mnemosyne, Phoibe, Dione, and Theia.

Far from being jumbled, the structure of these two paragraphs is systematically organized. It becomes clear only once one has distinguished between narration and genealogical list, and noticed that the lists follow common rules of ­declaration: 1.1–2 Start

Generic name

Proper name

Characteristics

story

Οὐρανὸς πρῶτος τοῦ παντὸς ἐδυνάστευσε κόσμου. γήμας δὲ Γῆν ἐτέκνωσε

list

πρώτους

list

μετὰ τούτους Κύκλωπας δὲ αὐτῷ τεκνοῖ Γῆ

story

ἀλλὰ τούτους μὲν Οὐρανὸς δήσας εἰς Τάρταρον ἔρριψε (τόπος δὲ οὗτος ἐρεβώδης ἐστὶν ἐν Ἅιδου, τοσοῦτον ἀπὸ γῆς ἔχων διάστημα ὅσον ἀπ᾿ οὐρανοῦ γῆ), τεκνοῖ δὲ αὖθις ἐκ Γῆς

list

παῖδας μὲν

τοὺς Ἑκατόγχειρας Βριάρεων Γύην Κόττον προσαγορευθέντας

Ἄργην Στερόπην Βρόντην

ὧν ἕκαστος εἶχεν ἕνα ὀφθαλμὸν ἐπὶ τοῦ μετώπου.

τοὺς Τιτᾶνας Ὠκεανὸν Κοῖον Ὑπερίονα προσαγορευθέντας Κρεῖον Ἰαπετὸν καὶ Κρόνον

list

οἳ μεγέθει τε ἀνυπέρβλητοι καὶ δυνάμει καθειστήκεσαν, χεῖρας μὲν ἀνὰ ἑκατὸν κεφαλὰς δὲ ἀνὰ πεντήκοντα ἔχοντες.

θυγατέρας δὲ τὰς κληθείσας Τιτανίδας

Τηθὺν Ῥέαν Θέμιν Μνημοσύνην Φοίβην Διώνην Θείαν.

νεώτατον ἁπάντων



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The recognition of these different models makes clearer how to read the text sentence by sentence. It leads to different methods by which the reader can find his way in the text, as well as to a redefinition of which elements a possible editor may use as markers. The text firstly relies upon a network of elements that are distinctive on a morphemic level. Connecting particles play an essential role in the Bib­ liotheca, far beyond that which they play in narrative texts. When comparing any passage from novelistic prose with the text of Apollodorus, one cannot help but notice the extreme simplicity of the particles Apollodorus employs (δέ), but also their systematic use: the author almost never uses asyndeton, and prepositive particles are extremely uncommon. A word as banal as ὅμως only appears two times in the three books of the Bibliotheca (I excluded here the Epitome), and what is more, without a coordinating role.23 The same goes for ἔπειτα, which only appears once in the entire text in its coordinating role at the beginning of a sentence.24 Particles, and in particular in the correlation μέν / δέ, help organize the text on a syntactical level by controlling repetitions, oppositions and parallels.25 This expected role is here systematized and associated moreover with Apollodorus’ tendency to place the name of the text’s main character at the beginning of paragraphs. Thus, Ζεὺς δὲ γαμεῖ at 1.13 [1.3.1] is echoed by Ποσειδῶν δὲ (…) γαμεῖ at 1.28 [1.4.6], despite the length of text which separates them. In this system of organization, the place of a name is significant, since it prevails even over syntactical variations. The succession of 1.14–18 [1.3.2-4] is organized with the help of a series, Καλλιόπης μὲν οὖν… Κλειὼ δὲ… Εὐτέρπης δὲ…, where two genitives, Καλλιόπης and Εὐτέρπης, identify the mother of the mentioned heroes (Linus and Orpheus for Calliope, Rhesus for Euterpe), while the nominative Κλειώ

23 2.57 [2.4.6]: ὑποστάντος δὲ ὅμως εἱμαρμένον ἦν αὐτὴν μηδέ τινα καταλαβεῖν. The interpretation of ὑποστάντος diverges: Frazer (1921) understands “though Amphitryon undertook the task, it was fated that nobody should catch her”, whereas for Carrière and Massonie (1991), the expression is general (“and even if someone faced her, the decree of fate dictated that no one could catch her”); 3.81 [3.7.2]: ὁ μὲν οὖν Ἀλκμαίων ἡγεῖσθαι τῆς στρατείας οὐ βουλόμενος πρὶν τίσασθαι τὴν μητέρα, ὅμως στρατεύεται (“Alcmaeon did not want to lead the army until he punished his mother, but he went on the campaign anyway”). 24 1.30 [1.5.1]: ἔπειτα πρὸς Κελεὸν ἐλθοῦσα… (“then she went to Celeos”). The sentence furthermore presents a noteworthy breach in construction: one would have expected a genitive absolute. Ἔπειτα also appears in correlation with πρῶτον, but still within the same sentence (1.6 [1.2.1]; 2.7 [2.1.3]; 3.83 [3.7.3]; 3.88 [3.7.5]), and thus without a coordinating role (3.30 [3.4.4]: καὶ ἔπειτα ὕστερον). 25 This point is examined only in a general manner by Denniston (1954, 62), who speaks only of a Greek tendency to split up a thought into its component parts. The uses of δέ are only studied in their relation to anaphora, pp. 84–87. Recent works by Duhoux (most recently 2006) or by Buijs (2005) do not show interest in the role of particles in a context where reading is involved.

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has as a predicate Πιέρου (…) ἠράσθη (“Cleio fell in love with Pieros”). It is also a name’s place in the sentence which allows it to become a marker or sign of a list, as 1.25 [1.4.3] illustrates. If Apollodorus has been careful to begin his text at this location with Ὠρίωνα δὲ Ἄρτεμις ἀπέκτεινεν (“Artemis killed Orion”), the reason is to parallel this sentence with the first of 1.14 [1.3.2], ἀπέκτεινε δὲ Ἀπόλλων (…) Μαρσύαν (“Apollo also killed Marsyas”), which also follows upon κτείνει δὲ (…) Τιτυόν (“he also killed Tityos”). The marked use of the accusative Ὠρίωνα at the beginning of a sentence underlines the impression of a list, a fact that the narrative form of the text does not, however, at first glance make explicit. The text is thus organized not around Apollo and Artemis, but around the names of their victims. Far from only being linked together, different paragraphs can also be associated or placed on the same level in order to create a narrative unity with broad scope. As with Hyginus’ catalogues, the text’s logic is not linear. It functions rather by detachments, outgrowths and returns to subdivisions of different orders, which transform the text into a vast tableau. Finally, the identification of certain themes, whether they be episodes, cycles or narrative motifs, contributes to the distinctive way one can understand this text. Yet it is necessary to note that one is dealing here with a macrostructure that extends over a large scale, a method of organization already in force at the microstructure of the sentence. To read the Bibliotheca thus requires one by turns to decipher, to appropriate the text’s meaning and to appropriate the structure of the whole, and implies a thorough and exact analysis of the text in order to perceive all its dimensions. As compensation for this tedious work, the meditative reader can receive not only the text’s meaning, but also the ability to find his way in the text, to orient himself in it and to extract himself from it.26 The accumulation of names and anecdotes is organized in a grid for reading imposed not from the outside but from within the text itself. Like a computer program whose capabilities one progressively discovers, the more one reads the text of the Bibliotheca, the better the text functions.

4 The Syntactic-Thematic Organization of the First Paragraph The identification of the internal structure of the Bibliotheca’s first paragraphs has several consequences. First, it allows us to offer an organized blueprint, a practical table of contents that gives an account of the text and words of the

26 On the notion of “meditative reading”, see Carruthers 2003, in particular 224–225.



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author. Next, it sheds a new light upon the practices of reading and consultation that the text itself envisions for its ancient audience. Finally, it opens up the possibility of editing the text of the Bibliotheca in new formats: not only in order to reconstruct what could have been the ancient perception of the text, but also to promote new contemporary reading methods, new ways of consulting a work. One of the difficulties encountered in understanding this text lies in the fact that it not only is organized vertically, in the manner of a list, but also extends internally by combination of list and narration, each one expanding off the other. If one is to account for the text’s meaning, it follows that one needs to use, instead of a simple list of themes, a network of coordinated and subdivided motifs. This means that the text is organized by a process of self-begetting that reveals groups of meaning by dissemination, as if growing outwards from the stem of a bush. The short format of an article and the narrowness of a printed page are undoubtedly unable to represent this outgrowth effectually; we will thus have to be content to provide an intermediary model in discontinuous units. In the first 44 paragraphs, one can define several distinct groups with their own particular logic. The first sentence begins with a name, Uranus, and a qualifier (πρῶτος), which defines Uranus’ place both in the Bibliotheca’s structure and in the history of the world that the author describes. The text begins with a narration that, as we have seen, is interrupted by genealogical insertions that give rhythm to the text without disturbing the story’s progression: Narration Uranus, sovereign of the world list

Ἑκατόγχειρας

Βριάρεων Γύην Κόττον

description

list

Κύκλωπας

Ἄργην Στερόπην Βρόντην

description

narration tossing of Uranus’ ­children into Tartarus list

Τιτᾶνας

Ὠκεανὸν Κοῖον Ὑπερίονα Κρεῖον Ἰαπετὸν καὶ νεώτατον ἁπάντων Κρόνον

list

Τιτανίδας

Τηθὺν Ῥέαν Θέμιν Μνημοσύνην Φοίβην Διώνην Θείαν

narration revolt of Cronus list

Ἐρινύες

Ἀληκτὼ Τισιφόνη Μέγαιρα

narration Cronus, sovereign of the world list

τὰ γεννώμενα

narration infancy, revolt and power of Zeus

Ἑστίαν κατέπιεν, εἶτα Δήμητραν καὶ Ἥραν, μεθ᾿ ἃς Πλούτωνα καὶ Ποσειδῶνα

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From the very first mention of Uranus to Zeus’ coming into power, one can reckon no less than five narrations which constitute the uninterrupted thread of a plot. The list of Uranus’ first children (the Hecatonchires and Cyclopes), that of the Titans and Titanides, that of the Erinyes, and finally that of Cronus’ children, all serve to aid the general story without, however, modifying its fundamental structure. At 1.8–9 [1.2.2-4], the description of the descendants of the Titans begins in a different fashion, as if these paragraphs formed a separate section. This list does not, in fact, continue the end of the immediately preceding narration, but rather reuses names that appear in the inserted genealogical lists: Lineage 1 Ὠκεανοῦ μὲν καὶ Τηθύος

Ὠκεανίδες

Ἀσία Στύξ Ἠλέκτρα Δωρὶς Εὐρυνόμη [Ἀμφιτρίτη] Μῆτις

Κοίου δὲ καὶ Φοίβης

Ἀστερία καὶ Λητώ

Ὑπερίονος δὲ καὶ Θείας

Ἠώς Ἥλιος Σελήνη

Κρείου δὲ καὶ Εὐρυβίας τῆς Πόντου

Ἀστραῖος Πάλλας Πέρσης

Ἰαπετοῦ δὲ καὶ Ἀσίας

Ἄτλας

details

καὶ Προμηθεὺς καὶ Ἐπιμηθεὺς καὶ Μενοίτιος

details

Lineage 2 ἐγένετο δὲ καὶ Κρόνου καὶ Φιλύρας

Χείρων διφυὴς Κένταυρος

Ἠοῦς δὲ καὶ Ἀστραίου

ἄνεμοι καὶ ἄστρα

Πέρσου δὲ καὶ Ἀστερίας

Ἑκάτη

Πάλλαντος δὲ καὶ Στυγὸς

Νίκη Κράτος Ζῆλος Βία

details

An initial list of five couples, whose names are presented in the genitive, first is fully developed, and next is accompanied by a second list that begins with ἐγένετο δὲ καί, a phrase that not only serves as transition, but also indicates that the following catalogue will be of a different nature. This catalogue that follows is not specifically about the Titans, but rather introduces either an illegitimate lineage (Cronus and Philyra), or the children of Crius (Astraeus, Perses and Pallas). It is clear that if the facts here are similar to those provided by Hesiod’s Theogony, Apollodorus (or his source) has nonetheless significantly reorganized the structure of the Hesiodic text by omitting many genealogical details (such as the children of Hyperion and Theia, mentioned at v. 371–374 just before those of



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Crius, or those of Leto, daughter of Coius and mentioned in the Theogony after Crius’ children), and furthermore by stitching together, in his particular fashion, narrations with genealogical lists (Crius’ children are mentioned in the Theogony before Zeus’ birth). The same remarks can be made for the following segment taken from 1.10–12 [1.2.6-7] and dedicated to the descendants of Pontus: Lineage 1 Πόντου δὲ καὶ Γῆς

Φόρκος Θαύμας Νηρεὺς Εὐρυβία Κητώ

Lineage 2 Θαύμαντος μὲν οὖν καὶ Ἠλέκτρας

Ἶρις καὶ Ἅρπυιαι, Ἀελλὼ Ὠκυπέτη

Φόρκου δὲ καὶ Κητοῦς

Φορκίδες

Γοργόνες

ellipsis

Νηρέως δὲ καὶ Δωρίδος

Νηρηίδες

Κυμοθόη Σπειὼ Γλαυκονόμη Ναυσιθόη Ἁλίη, Ἐρατὼ Σαὼ Ἀμφιτρίτη Εὐνίκη Θέτις, Εὐλιμένη Ἀγαυὴ Εὐδώρη Δωτὼ Φέρουσα, Γαλάτεια Ἀκταίη Ποντομέδουσα Ἱπποθόη Λυσιάνασσα, 12 Κυμὼ Ἠιόνη Ἁλιμήδη Πληξαύρη Εὐκράντη, Πρωτὼ Καλυψὼ Πανόπη Κραντὼ Νεόμηρις, Ἱππονόη Ἰάνειρα Πολυνόμη Αὐτονόη Μελίτη, Διώνη Νησαίη Δηρὼ Εὐαγόρη Ψαμάθη, Εὐμόλπη Ἰόνη Δυναμένη Κητὼ Λιμνώρεια.

Next, the section at 1.13–27 [1.3.1-4.5] constitutes a long genealogy devoted to the descendants of Zeus. This segment follows the same idea as the preceding paragraphs. It is particularly noteworthy for the multiple extensions which order it and which complicate the attempt to establish its schema. Lineage 1 γάμος

Ἥρα

μȋξις

πολλαῖς γυναιξίν

Ἥβην Εἰλείθυιαν Ἄρην

Lineage 2 Θέμις

Ὥρας

Εἰρήνην Εὐνομίαν Δίκην

Μοίρας

Κλωθὼ Λάχεσιν Ἄτροπον

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Lineage 2 Διώνη Εὐρυνόμη

Ἀφροδίτην Χάριτας

Στύξ Μνημοσύνη

Ἀγλαΐην Εὐφροσύνην Θάλειαν Περσεφόνην

Μούσας

Καλλιόπην Κλειώ

Orpheus, Linus

narration

Hyacinthus narration (Thamyris)

Μελπομένην

Sirens27

ellipsis

Εὐτέρπην

Rhesus

narration

Ἐρατώ Τερψιχόρην Οὐρανίαν Θάλειαν

Corybants

Πολυμνίαν χωρὶς εὐνῆς

Ἥρα

Ἥφαιστον

Μήτις

Athena

τῶν δὲ Κοίου Ἀστερία θυγατέρων Λητώ

narration

narration Artemis

narration

Apollo

narration death of Python death of Tityos death of Marsyas

(Artemis)

death of Orion

27 The lineage of the Muses is not presented in the same order as that adopted by the list of the Muses in the introduction to the passage as a whole. While she is named thirdly, after Callipe and Clio, and just before Euterpe, Melpomene is mentioned with her children after Calliope, Clio, Euterpe and Thalie.



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One can first note that the structure is organized around a simple opposition between γάμος and μȋξις: between the reigning wife Hera and Zeus’ numerous sexual conquests. Yet the enumeration of these conquests and the lineage that results from them makes necessary the introduction of a second system of references and subdivisions. It is the names of goddesses which begin each particular excerpt thereafter, with the addition of the preposition ἐκ and the particles μέν / δέ as a method of organizing the list (ἐκ μὲν οὖν Θέμιδος… ἐκ Διώνης δὲ … ἐξ Εὐρυνόμης δὲ… ἐκ δὲ Στυγὸς… ἐκ δὲ Μνημοσύνης…). After a long passage on the descendants of Mnemosyne, the list begins again, if more weakly, with four names that each play a particular grammatical role in their respective sentences (Ἥρα δὲ ἐγέννησεν … μίγνυται δὲ Ζεὺς Μήτιδι… τῶν δὲ Κοίου θυγατέρων Ἀστερία μὲν… Λητὼ δὲ…). If the overall structure is genealogical, sometimes the details are nonetheless descriptive and become introduced via the phenomenon of narrative expansion that we have defined. This is what explains the length of the passage, the difficulty in justifying its organization and, at the same time, the simplicity of its structure. Each narration results from a name inserted into a vast genealogical line and is called into being, as it were, by the mention of the proper name. One can even see a thematic subsection come into existence, as one can in Hyginus, inside the narration devoted to Apollo. If the story concerns the installation of the god at Delphi, the death of the serpent Python leads to the mention of other victims – Tityos and Marsyas – as well as the description of the story of Orion, whom Artemis killed. If it were necessary to give a title to this passage as a whole, it would not be by isolating the names of the different characters, but by grouping them together under a common term: Quos Apollo et Artemis occiderunt. By comparison, 1.28 [1.4.6], devoted to the lineage of Poseidon, may seem ridiculous given its succinctness, and could even pass by unnoticed: Ποσειδῶν δὲ Ἀμφιτρίτην [τὴν Ὠκεανοῦ] γαμεῖ, καὶ αὐτῷ γίνεται Τρίτων καὶ Ῥόδη, ἣν Ἥλιος ἔγημε.

Poseidon married Amphitrite and fathered Triton and Rhode, the latter of whom Helius married.

Finally, concerning 1.29–34 [1.5.1-6.1], one could well wonder why Apollodorus placed this section in this location, since essentially it seems to be about Demeter. But in fact, it is not a chronological or thematic progression that explains its presence in this part of the Bibliotheca, but the textual relationship that the author has constructed for a schema for reading, a network that the text explicitly manifests:

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Passage

God

Goddess

Union

Ζεὺς δὲ γαμεῖ μὲν Ἥραν (…) μίγνυται δὲ πολλαῖς θνηταῖς τε καὶ ἀθανάτοις γυναιξίν

Ζεύς

Ἥρα

γάμος

Ζεύς

γυναῖκες

μȋξις

§28

Ποσειδῶν δὲ Ἀμφιτρίτην [τὴν Ὠκεανοῦ] γαμεῖ

Ποσειδῶν

Ἀμφιτρίτη

γάμος

§29

Πλούτων δὲ Περσεφόνης ἐρασθεὶς Διὸς συνεργοῦντος ἥρπασεν αὐτὴν

Πλούτων

Περσεφόνη

(γάμος)

§13

The exact correspondence between the first words of 1.28 [1.4.6] and those which had opened the preceding section should lead one to place them on the same level: the γάμος of Poseidon and Amphitrite matches exactly that of Zeus and Hera. In the case of 1.29 [1.5.1], we have a significant variation: the name γάμος is not to be found in this case, nor at the beginning nor at the end of the paragraph. Instead Apollodorus presents us with a narrative sequence which involves Persephone, her mother Demeter and Hades, whose desire (ἐρασθείς) and violence (ἥρπασεν) are clearly indicated. Nevertheless the story results in the same kind of union between the two divinities as the one achieved by a formal marriage: Persephone is compelled to stay with Plouton (μετὰ Πλούτωνος ἠναγκάσθη μένειν). Even if the story of Demeter is developed at this point and comes to the forefront, the associations of the two divinities’ names at the beginning of the section, Πλούτων δὲ Περσεφόνης, is sufficient to recall the two preceding incipit, Ζεὺς δὲ γαμεῖ μὲν Ἥραν as well as Ποσειδῶν δὲ Ἀμφιτρίτην τὴν Ὠκεανοῦ γαμεῖ. The Bibliotheca remains in spite of everything a text: it is not directly a table or a diagram, and in this way requires a specific form of apprehension by its reader. The author himself seems to have been aware of the difficulties of consulting such a text, whose informative character could disappear in its meandering extensions and branches. This is why he occasionally intervenes directly with the support of his own schema in order to indicate important transitions or ellipses. Thus the three segments devoted, from the viewpoint of their structure, to the matrimonial union of the three great gods – Zeus, Poseidon and Hades – and which develop via a series of associated narrations, conclude at the end of 1.33 [1.5.3] with a mark of authorship. This intervention imposes the end of a cycle (περὶ μὲν οὖν Δήμητρος ταῦτα λέγεται) and introduces a new textual temporality that breaks with everything that has preceded: the text describes a gigantomachy that continues the very first narration, which had ended with Zeus’ victory (1.7 [1.2.1]).28 28 The translation of Carrière and Massonie, as well as that of Trzaskoma, divides the formula into two paragraphs (end of 1.33 [1.5.3]): “Voilà donc ce qu’on raconte à propos de Déméter” / (beginning of 1.34 [1.6.1]) “Cependant Gè, indignée par le traitement infligé aux Titans, enfanta des œuνres d’Ouranοs les Géants…”.



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End of genealogical description

Beginning of narration

περὶ μὲν οὖν Δήμητρος ταῦτα λέγεται ·

Γῆ δὲ περὶ Τιτάνων ἀγανακτοῦσα γεννᾷ Γίγαντας ἐξ Οὐρανοῦ…

This is what is told about Demeter.

But Ge, angry about what happened to the Titans, produced the Giants by Ouranos…

To think that these first paragraphs of the Bibliotheca show excursuses or digressions would be mistaken: each paragraph is meticulously attached to the others as if in a stemma, with an alternation between narration and genealogical list that is constructed differently in each section.

5 Consequences I would like to indicate two types of methodological consequences that result from an operation that aims to understand, from the inside, both the organization of the text and the specific role of certain of its markers. First, the indications scattered throughout the text are sufficient and necessary to organize a specific way of reading. It is a distinctive characteristic of mythographical texts that they are organized following particular schemas of reading. These are developed by each author and are able to be analyzed by any reader; one cannot ignore them if one is to avoid the simplistic tyranny of defining a “myth” as a “narration”. If the Bibliotheca could serve as a manual, it is because it itself organizes the possibility of finding facts and information in what would otherwise be a jungle of details, in which an inattentive reader would lose his way. Mythographical texts organize a type of reading based on a radical appropriation of the text: specific manipulation by the writer aims to establish certain of the text’s terms as markers or signals.29 As M. Carruthers has written for certain medieval readerly practices, A work is not truly read until one has made it part of oneself – that process constitutes a necessary stage of its textualization. Merely running one’s eyes over the written pages is not reading at all, for the writing must be transferred into memory, from graphemes on parchment or papyrus or paper to images written in one’s brain by emotion and sense.30

29 Delattre 2013, 147–153. 30 Carruthers 2008, 11.

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The memory, not of the words of the text, but of its form and arrangement constitutes an indispensable step in reading. This explains perhaps the relative simplicity of the manuscripts of the Bibliotheca: the absence of written titles, whether in the text itself or in the margins, does not imply that the reader did not create them in the space of his memory in order to use them each time he would pick up the text to read. Yet many modern editors, for other texts, have disregarded specific editorial practices and have failed to transcribe various markers (the abbreviation of σημείωσαι in the margins, punctuation signs, etc.), even though these markers shed light upon the manner in which the text could be structured.31 One cannot therefore separate the question of how a text was edited and published from that of which practices of reading it presupposes. It is necessary to take into account the specificity of modern reading practices when establishing an ancient text. Moreover, the transcription of the text, and, even further, its translation, render invisible mechanisms that are specific to its original language, whether they be syntactical products (repetitions, the placement of words) or morphematic (the use of particles in Greek). It is perhaps for this reason that the text of Hyginus has come to us, ever since the Renaissance, in the form of separate chapters: the absence in Latin of a grammatical system analogous to that of particles made necessary a division into segments, the imperfections of which, nevertheless, we have mentioned. If the text of the Bibliotheca could be written in Greek in order to create an illusion of continuity, it was due to the capability of coordinators and repetitions to exercise a tension on the reader, to organize his schema of reading. For a modern reader, this schema could be brought to light by other methods: one might consider, for example, several different devices, such as the use of colors, indents, underlines, etc. The digital treatment of textual information, and in particular the technique of mark-up, bears many relations to Apollodorus’ textual practices. One can hope that the next edition of the Bibliotheca will depart from the demands of publication on paper and will harness the resources offered by electronic publication. In this way, editors will be able to highlight certain characteristic practices of the text that the modern fluent reader is unable to perceive.

31 I refer to my future edition of Antoninus Liberalis with Presses du Septentrion to clarify this point. One can also consult several remarks in this regard in my edition of Ps. Plutarch’s De fluviis (Delattre 2011, 61).



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Appendix ccxxi septem sapientes

septem

ccxxii septem lyrici ccxxiii septem opera mirabilia ccxxiv qui facti sunt ex ­mortalibus immortales

qui facti sunt ex mortalibus immortales

ccxxv qui primi templa deorum constituerunt

qui primi templa deorum constituerunt

ccxxvi quae mortales cum Ioue concubuerunt ccxxvii quae cum Apolline quae ­mortales cum deo ­concubuerunt

ccxxviii quae cum Neptuno ccxxix quae cum Mercurio ccxxx quae cum Libero ccxxxi quae cum Marte

quae ­concubuerunt

ccxxxii quae cum Aquilone ccxxxiii quae immortales cum mortalibus concubuerunt

quae ­immortales cum ­mortalibus concubuerunt

ccxxxiv qui patres suos ­occiderunt

qui parentes occiderunt

ccxxxv qui matres suas ­occiderunt

qui fratres occiderunt

ccxxxvi qui fratres suos ­occiderunt ccxxxvii patres qui filios suos occiderunt

qui liberos occiderunt

ccxxxviii qui filias suas ­occiderunt ccxxxix matres quae filios ­interfecerunt ccxl quae coniuges suos ­occiderunt ccxli qui coniuges suas ­occiderunt

quae liberos occiderunt

parentes qui liberos occiderunt

coniunges qui coniuges occiderunt

qui propinquos occiderunt

qui occiderunt

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ccxlii qui se ipsi interfecerunt ccxliii quae se ipsae ­interfecerunt ccxliv qui cognatos suos occiderunt ccxlv qui socios et generos occiderunt

qui se ipsi interfecerunt qui occiderunt qui alios ­interfecerunt

Bibliography Brodersen, Kai. Apollodoros: Götter und Helden der Griechen. Griechisch und deutsch. Herausgegeben und übersetzt (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2004). Buijs, Michel. Clause Combining in Ancient Greek Narrative Discourse. The Distribution of Subclauses and Participial Clauses in Xenophon’s Hellenica and Anabasis (Leiden & Boston: Brill, 2005). Cameron, Alan. Greek Mythography in the Roman World (Oxford: University Press, 2004). Carr, David M. Writing on the Tablet of the Heart. Origins of Scripture and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). Carrière, Jean-Claude and Bertrand Massonie. La Bibliothèque d’Apollodore. Traduite, annotée et commentée (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1991). Carruthers, Mary. The Book of Memory. A Study of Memory in Medieval Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 20082; 19901). Carruthers, Mary. Lecteurs et art de la mémoire dans l’Occident médiéval, in: Des Alexandries II. Les métamorphoses du lecteur, edited by Christian Jacob (Paris: Bibliothèque Nationale de France, 2003), 221–232. Cavallo, Guglielmo and Herwig Maehler (ed.). Hellenistic Bookhands (Berlin & New York: de Gruyter, 2008). Cremonesi, Chiara. Indici tematici, indice geografico ed etnografico alla Bibliotheca di Apollodoro (Padova: Imprimitur, 2000). Cuartero, Francesc J. Pseudo-Apol·lodor. Biblioteca. Vol. 1 (Barcelona: Fundació Bernat Metge, 2010). Delattre, Charles. Pseudo-Plutarque. Nommer le monde. Origine des noms de fleuves, de montagnes et de ce qui s’y trouve (Lille: Presses du Septentrion, 2011). Delattre, Charles. Pentaméron mythographique. Les Grecs ont-ils écrit leurs mythes? Lalies 33 (2013), 77–170. Denniston, John D. The Greek Particles (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 19542; 19341). Duhoux, Yves. Les particules : une classe de mots à supprimer en grec ancien?, in: Word Classes and Related Topics in Ancient Greek, edited by Emilio Crespo, Jesús de la Villa & Antonio R. Revuelta (Leuven: Peeters, 2006), 519–536. Frazer, James. Apollodorus. The Library. Vol. 1 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1921). Guidorizzi, Giulio. Apollodoro Biblioteca. Con il commento di James G. Frazer (Milano: Adelphi, 1995).



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Harris, William V. Ancient Literacy (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1989). Hoyo, Javier del and José M. García Ruiz. Higino. Fábulas (Madrid: Gredos, 2009). Hubert, Martin. Corpus stigmatologicum minus, ALMA 37 (1970), 5–171. Irigoin, Jean. Lire, c’est d’abord chercher à comprendre, in Des Alexandries II. Les métamorphoses du lecteur, edited by Christian Jacob (Paris: Bibliothèque Nationale de France, 2003), 197–206. Johnson, William A. and Holt N. Parker (ed.). Ancient Literacies. The Culture of Reading in Greece and Rome (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009). Minchin, Elizabeth (ed.). Orality, Literacy and Performance in the Ancient World (Leiden & Boston: Brill, 2012). Rossum-Steenbeek, Monique van. Greek Readers’ Digest? Studies on a Selection of Subliterary Papyri (Leiden, New York & Köln, 1998). Scarpi, Paolo. Apollodoro. I miti greci (Biblioteca). Traduzione di Maria Grazia Ciani (Milano: Mondadori, 1996). Small, Jocelyn P. Wax Tablets of the Mind: Cognitive Studies of Memory and Literacy in Classical Antiquity (London & New York: Routledge, 1997). Smith, R. Scott and Stephen M. Trzaskoma. Apollodorus’ Library and Hyginus’ Fabulae. Two Handbooks of Greek Mythology (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2007). Spärck Jones, Karen. Automatic Keyword Classification for Information Retrieval (London: Butterworths, 1971). Spärck Jones, Karen. Synonymy and Semantic Classification (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1986). Tait, John I. (ed.). Charting a New Course: Natural Language Processing and Information Retrieval. Essays in Honour of Karen Spärck Jones (Berlin, Heidelberg & New York: Springer, 2005). Thomas, Rosalind. Literacy and Orality in Ancient Greece (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992) Yunis, Harvey (ed.). Written Texts and the Rise of Literate Culture in Ancient Greece (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003).

Ulrike Kenens

13 The Edition of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca by Thomas Gale (Paris, 1675): Between Tradition and Innovation In 1675, the English classical scholar and antiquarian Thomas Gale included Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca in his voluminous collection of Historiae Poeticae Scrip­ tores Antiqui, besides the Narratives of Conon, the New History by Ptolemy Quail, Parthenius’ Narrationes amatoriae and the Metamorphoses by Antoninus Liberalis. This edition was printed in Paris by F. Muguet by order of the London bookseller R. Scott. All five selected treatises are provided with an edition of the Greek text as well as a facing translation in Latin, and a more or less extensive running commentary. In fact, this compilation of “ancient writers of poetical lore” was already the seventh edition of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca to appear.1 The editio princeps of this mythological handbook was published in 1555, when Benedetto Egio printed the Greek text based on several Italian manuscripts, with a Latin translation and some limited notes; this Latin translation was separately reprinted as well as corrected several times (e. g. Antverpiae: Gulielmus Sylvius, 1565). Next, the Bibliotheca was included in Jacob Molzer’s collection of mythological treatises (Paris, 1578), together with the Fables by Hyginus, the Unbelievable Tales by Palaephatus, Aratus’ Phaenomena, and many others. Thirdly, two excerpts from the Bibliotheca (sc. 1.9.16-1.9.28 [107–147]; 3.5.7-3.7.5 [48–87]) were included in an anthology of Argonautic, Theban and Trojan myths by Lorenz Rhodomann and Michael Neander (Leipzig, 1588). Fourth, Judas Bonutius reprinted the Greek text and the Latin translation of the Bibliotheca by Egio, together with the unfinished juxtalinear notes of Jérôme Commelin that contain many readings of the then newly discovered Palatine manuscript not adopted in the text (Heidelberg, 1599). Fifth, the text of Apollodorus was first translated into French by Jean Passerat (Paris, 1605). Finally, the French scholar Tanneguy Le Fèvre printed his own Greek text with a facing Latin translation and some limited notes.2

1 This brief overview aims to supplement Huys 1997, 320–325. 2 In chronological order: Apollodori Atheniensis Bibliotheces, sive de Deorum origine, tam graece, quam latine, luculentis pariter ac doctis annotationibus illustrati, et nunc primum in lucem editi Ulrike Kenens, Leuven DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-013



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Unfortunately, the edition by Gale has not received due attention in the existing overviews of the Bibliotheca’s printed history, since it is always outshone either by Egio’s editio princeps (1555), or by the monumental edition along with exegetical commentary by Heyne (1782/1803²), or by the first truly critical edition by Wagner (1894/1926²). What is more, Gale was even harshly criticized by many of his successors, most notably Heyne,3 for being negligent, chaotic and even sloppy. However, the edition by Gale may be considered a milestone in the printed history of the Bibliotheca, in particular because he was the first to inspect the Oxford manuscript (cf. infra, 2) and because he most radically changed the scholarly opinion on the relation between the Bibliotheca and Apollodorus of Athens’ On the Gods (cf. infra, 4). Therefore, this paper aims to rescue Gale from oblivion by discussing three various aspects of his edition, with special regard to his intermediary role in the contemporary scholarly landscape between tradition and innovation.

1 The life and works of Thomas Gale (1635/1636–1702) 4

Thomas Gale was born in Scruton, a modest village in the county of North Yorkshire (England), in the year 1635 or, according to some other sources,5 in 1636. He was the only surviving son of Christopher Gale and Frances Conyers. He started

libri tres. Benedicto Aegio interprete… (Romae: Antonius Bladius, 1555); C. Iulii Hygini, Augusti liberti, Fabularum liber, ad omnium poetarum lectionem mire necessarius, & nunc denuo excusus. Eiusdem Poeticon Astronomicon Libri quatuor. Quibus accesserunt similis argumenti:… (Parisiis: apud Gulielmum Iulianum, 1578); [Lorenz Rhodomann et] Michael Neander, Argonautica, The­ baica, Troica, Ilias Parva… (Lipsiae: haeredes Iohannis Steinmanni, 1588); Apollodori Atheniensis grammatici Bibliotheces, sive de Deorum origine, Libri III. Benedicto Aegio Spoletino interprete (Heidelberg: ex officina Commeliniana, 1599); Les trois livres de la Bibliothèque d’Apollodore, ou de l’Origine des dieus. Traduicts de l’exemplaire Grec par Iean Passerat … (Paris: chez Iean Gesselin, 1605); Apollodori Atheniensis Bibliotheces, sive de Diis, libri tres, Tanaquillus Faber recensuit et Notulas addidit (Salmurii: apud Ioannem Lenerium, 1666). 3 See Heyne 1803, xlvi. Accordingly, only J.G. Meusel (1768) and E. Kirchner (1862) afterwards adopted Gale’s edition. On Heyne’s Apollodorus, see Fornaro in this volume. 4 This bio- and bibliographical overview is based upon the following reference works: B ­ ernard et al. 1737, vol. V, 363–367; Nichols 1812, vol. IV, 536–543; Knight 1823, 326–328; Sandys 1908, vol. II, 354–355; Cambridge under Queen Anne 1911, 448–450; Doggett 2004; A C ­ ambridge Alumni Database s.u. Gale. 5 See e. g. Bernard et al. 1737, 363; Nichols 1812, 536; Cambridge Alumni Database.

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his education at the renowned Westminster School in London. Subsequently, in 1655, he was admitted as a King’s scholar to Trinity College at the University of Cambridge, where he received the degrees of Bachelor (1659) and Master of Arts (1662), as well as of Bachelor and Doctor of Divinity (1675). Meanwhile, he was likewise incorporated Master of Arts into the University of Oxford in 1669. Thomas Gale started his professional academic career at Trinity College in the University of Cambridge, being successively designated Fellow (1659), Tutor (1663) and even Regius Professor of Greek (1666/1672).6 In 1672, he eventually left the University of Cambridge and returned to London, where he was appointed headmaster of St. Paul’s School. While holding this position, he was likewise elected a Fellow of the prestigious Royal Society (1677): since he was highly regarded as one of the Society’s most active members, he was later promoted to secretary (1679), honorary secretary (1685) and even vice-president (1690) of this learned sodality. Accordingly, he kept up a regular correspondence with many learned scholars and antiquaries, not only at home in England, but also abroad, including the English writer John Evelyn (1620–1706), the French Benedictine monk Jean Mabillon (1632–1707), the German classical scholar Johann Georg Graevius (1632–1703), the English historian Ralph Thoresby (1658–1725), and many others. The French scholar Pierre Daniel Huet (1630–1721), for example, speaks very highly of him in his autobiographical memoirs: quem [sc. Thomam Galaeum] utraque dote, et modestiae et doctrinae […] omnibus hominibus, quos quidem noverim, anteferen­ dum puto.7 About the same period, he was also commissioned to write the Latin inscriptions on the Monument, erected in memory of the Great Fire of London in 1666. In 1697, Thomas Gale abandoned his position at St. Paul’s School in order to devote himself entirely to the service of God, as he was then admitted as Dean of York. As a matter of fact, he was already ordained priest in 1666 and became vicar of Barrington, a village in the county of South Cambridgeshire (England), during the following year. Next, in 1676, he was collated to a prebend in St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. When retiring to York, Gale donated a large number of curious Arabic, Persian and Turkish manuscripts to the new library of Trinity College in the University of Cambridge.8 Finally, he died in York April 8th 1702 and was

6 In secondary literature, disagreement has arisen on the start of Gale’s professorship, either in 1666 (see Sandys 1908, 354 and Nichols 1812, 537) or in 1672 (see Cambridge Alumni Database and Doggett 2004). In the latter case, Gale is argued to have been preceded by the younger Robert Creighton, who would have been Regius Professor of Greek at Cambridge between 1666 and 1672. 7 Huetius 1718, vol. V, 315. 8 After his death, in 1738, Roger Gale left a second large collection of his father’s manuscripts to the College, chief among which are the celebrated twelfth-century codex Galeanus of the Lexicon by Photius (O 03.09/1181), and two manuscripts of the New Testament (O 04.22/1253, saec. XII; O 08.023/1378, saec. XV).



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burried in the Cathedral there. He was survived by one daughter, named Elizabeth (1687–1757), and by four sons, among whom the learned Roger (1672–1744) and Samuel (1682–1754). In all, however, he had fathered eleven (or more) children on his wife Barbara Pepys (1639/1640–1689), daughter of the physician Thomas Pepys of Impington. In particular during his years as headmaster at St. Paul’s School in London (1672–1697), Thomas Gale wrote numerous treatises, which testify to his wide-ranging interests and the breadth of his knowledge. First, he published editions of several Greek and Latin authors. For example, in 1671, he published in Cambridge a voluminous collection of mythological writings in Greek and Latin, entitled Opuscula mythologica, ethica et physica [8°]; this compilation was later reprinted in Amsterdam in 1688. In 1675, he published in Paris the continuation of this mythological collection in Greek and Latin, entitled Historiae poet­ icae scriptores antiqui [8°]. In 1676, he published a selection of Greek orators in Greek and Latin in Oxford, entitled Rhetores Selecti [8°] and including Tiberius Rhetor’s On Figures, Demetrius of Phalerum’s On Style and Severus of Alexandria’s Characters. In 1678, he published in Oxford the editio princeps of Iamblichus’ On Mysteries in Greek and Latin [fol.]. In 1679, he published in London the Histories by Herodotus in Greek and Latin, accompanied by a number of fragments of Ctesias [fol.]. Second, his fame rests chiefly on his two-volume editio princeps of various old Latin chronicles bearing on early English history, entitled Historiae Angli­ canae scriptores quinque (Oxford, 1687) and Historiae Britannicae, Saxonicae, Anglo-Danicae scriptores quindecim (Oxford, 1691) [both fol.]. Further, Thomas Gale’s antiquarian interests became obvious in his treatise on the journey of a certain Roman emperor, named Antoninus, through England in his Antonini Iter Britannicum commentarii, which were published posthumously and enlarged by his son Roger in London in 1709 [4°]. Finally, he wrote a small number of religious works. For example, in 1678, he published in Oxford the Book of Psalms in Greek and Latin [8°]. In 1704, his Sermons preached upon several Holy Days observed in the Church of England were published posthumously in London [8°].

2 The edition of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca As was already briefly indicated in the opening section of this article, the edition of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca by Thomas Gale is part of the latter’s collection of His­ toriae Poeticae Scriptores Antiqui (Paris: F. Muguet, 1675). It opens with a thorough

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discussion of Greek mythological writing, divided into eight chapters (Disserta­ tio de Scriptoribus Mythologicis, pp. 5–56). In this introductory essay, attention is largely focused upon the life, writings and reception of the grammarian Apollodorus of Athens (Dissertatio, cap. II-VII, pp. 8–52), but the author also elaborates on the various sorts of mythological writing (Dissertatio, cap. I, pp. 5–8), and briefly introduces the four other authors that are included in the collection (Dissertatio, cap. VIII, pp. 52–56). In the next two sections of this paper, some salient viewpoints from this dissertation – in particular on the delineation of the mythographical genre and the nature of the Bibliotheca – will be singled out. After this extensive introduction, the Greek text of the five selected mythological treatises is printed with a facing translation in Latin. As regards Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca, this translation is taken from the then most recent bilingual edition by the French philologist Tanneguy Le Fèvre (1615–1672).9 Although this source is not explicitly acknowledged – contrary to, for example, the Latin translation of Parthenius, which is stated to be borrowed from Janus Cornarius (p. 341) – various critical observations against an anonymous interpres in the subsequent commentary on the Bibliotheca make it perfectly clear that Gale did not print his own translation.10 As it stands, these alternative readings as proposed in the Notae do often contribute to a better understanding of the Greek original.11 The Greek text itself, on the other hand, is adopted from the editio princeps by Benedetto Egio of Spoleto (d. 1567), although again anonymously.12 Importantly, however, whereas Gale faithfully copied the Greek from Egio’s exemplar, he was 9 Apollodori Atheniensis Bibliotheces, sive de Diis, libri tres, Tanaquillus Faber recensuit et Notulas addidit (Saumur: apud Ioannem Lenerium, 1666). For more information on the life of Tanneguy Le Fèvre, see e. g. Ribard 2008. 10 E. g. Notae, p. 36: Latina non recte se habent. Verte “et cum ab illo violatam fuisse puellam hanc Iuno comperisset tactu suo in busculam candidam transformavit et cum ea se concubuisse jureju­ rando pernegavit”. Hence, I must disagree with Huys 1997, 320–321, who states that Gale printed his own Latin translation. In addition, Huys argues that Le Fèvre copied the revised Latin translation of Aegius (Antwerpen: Gulielmus Silvius, 1565), whereas the former had actually prided himself on having corrected the latter’s translation in countless places when preparing his own edition (sed illam tamen translationem locis infinitis emendavimus, p. 260). 11 E. g. Notae, p. 34 : Gale translates the Greek ὡς δὲ Ἀκουσίλαός φησι, καὶ Πελασγός, ἀφ᾿ οὗ κληθῆναι τοὺς τὴν Πελοπόννησον οἰκοῦντας Πελασγούς (Apollod. Bibl. 2.1.1 [2]) with Sed et Pelasgus quoque (Acusilao teste) a quo Peloponnesi incolas dictos fuisse Pelasgos instead of with Sed Acusilai testimonio Pelasgus is dicebatur, a quo Peloponnesus dicta deinde Pelasgia fuit (Le Fèvre 1666, 74). 12 Apollodori Atheniensis Bibliotheces, sive de Deorum origine, tam graece, quam latine, luculentis pariter ac doctis annotationibus illustrati, et nunc primum in lucem editi libri tres. Benedicto Aegio interprete… (Roma: Antonius Bladius, 1555). For more information on Benedetto Egio of Spoleto, see e. g. Tucker 1997, 266, n. 7.



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the first editor to divide the three surviving books of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca into chapters and smaller sections. This arrangement was later refined by the German scholar Christian Gottlob Heyne (1729–1812), who further segmented the text into even smaller subsections and added blank lines in order to separate the different myths: although he was not entirely satisfied with Gale’s arrangement, Heyne decided to retain it in an attempt to avoid further confusion.13 This quadripartite division of the text into books, chapters, sections and subsections would later be challenged by a simpler arrangement of the three surviving books into consecutively numbered paragraphs, as proposed by Wagner.14 After two comprehensive and annotated indexes (Index rerum, pp. 1–60; Index auctorum, pp. 61–62), separately numbered and covering all five printed mythological writings, Thomas Gale added – or copied from Andreas Schottus in the cases of Conon and Ptolemy Quail – linear comments of various scope on the five selected writings. Even though he had firmly resolved to keep these Notae brief, they eventually turned out to run over more than 150 pages.15 As regards the Bibliotheca of Apollodorus, Gale often comments upon its mythological narrative material. Such content-related notes reveal his wide reading, as he refers to numerous analogous passages in Greek and Latin literature, including in lesserknown writings and late classical commentaries. On the other hand, Gale often proposes various editorial interventions. In such text-critical notes, he heavily draws (1) on the previous editions of the Bibliotheca by Benedetto Egio, Jérôme Commelin (ca. 1550–1597)16 and Tanneguy Le Fèvre; (2) on parallel passages in Greek and Latin literature; (3) on the indirect transmission of the Bibliotheca, especially the mythological scholia on Homer, the collection of proverbs by Ps.-Zenobius and Tzetzes’ commentary on Lycophron; (4) and on the manuscript readings. Concerning these manuscript readings, Thomas Gale was able to improve greatly upon the editio princeps, not only by incorporating the readings of the Palatinus Vaticanus 52 (P), as registered in the unfinished juxtalinear notes of Commelin, but also by consulting the Oxoniensis Bodleianus Laudianus Graecus

13 Heyne 1803, 2 : Ab hoc eodem docto, Galeo inquam, distinctio in capita et sectiones facta est, sed satis indiligenter: nihil tamen mutavi, ne novae turbae fierent ; nisi quod minores distinctiones adieci, et rerum argumenta inter se diversa intervallis versuum relictis seiunxi. 14 Wagner 1926², xlv. 15 Dissertatio, cap. V, p. 41: Notae brevitate sua (quanquam etiamnum longiores, quam speraram, evasisse video) placere voluerunt. 16 Apollodori Atheniensis grammatici Bibliotheces, sive de Deorum origine, Libri III. Benedicto Aegio Spoletino interprete (Heidelberg: ex officina Commeliniana, 1599). For more information on Jérôme Commelin, see e. g. Port 1938.

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55 (O) for the very first time. This Oxford manuscript was originally copied in Venice in the 15th century and was commissioned by cardinal Bessarion (1403– 1472). Afterwards, it travelled overseas and became the property of William Laud (1573–1645), the Archbishop of Canterbury, who eventually donated it to the Bodleian Library in Oxford. Besides Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca, this paper codex contains a number of writings by Plutarch.17 Moreover, Gale not only transcribed this newly discovered codex – and he turns out to have done so quite competently, despite the repeated criticism by Heyne18 – but he also evaluated the key importance of this manuscript correctly, since he understood that P and O were closely related: either they were transcribed from the same archetype, or one was a direct copy of the other one (Notae, p. 40). This pivotal position of O would later be confirmed by Diller,19 who proved that this codex was in fact the model of all other Renaissance manuscripts (including P), and a direct copy of the archetype Parisinus 2722 (R).20 Intriguingly, Gale hints in his introductory essay (Dissertatio, cap. V, p. 35) that he had knowledge of yet additional manuscripts containing the Bibliotheca, for instance in Venice and Florence, in the collection of the Austrian-born cardinal Mark Sittich von Hohenems Altemps in Rome, and in the Royal Library in Paris. These codices, however, cannot be traced in his Notae. Finally, the collection closes with yet another Index auctorum, specifically with reference to the Notae (pp. 152–158), and eighteen genealogical tables (not numbered).

3 Some observations on the mythographical genre Since the very first editions of various classical treatises on myth were printed in the 16th and 17th century, disagreement has arisen on the delineation of GrecoRoman mythography. To this day, the concept and scope of the ancient genre remain rather fluid, as the textual forms of transmitting myths were disparate

17 A more detailed description of the Oxford manuscript can be found in Diller 1935, 308 and 310–311. 18 Heyne 1803, xlvi. However, close comparison with the critical apparatus in the edition of the Bibliotheca by Papathomopoulos (2010) proves that Gale transcribed the Oxford manuscript accurately, though he overlooked many variant readings that could improve upon Egio’s editio princeps. 19 Diller 1935, 310–312. 20 By contrast, Heyne (1803, xlviii) still believed that O was copied from P.



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from both a diachronic and synchronic point of view. Hotly debated topics include, for instance, the admission of early logographic fragments, such as the Historiae by Pherecydes; of poetic texts, such as Ps.-Hesiod’s Catalogue of Women; and interpretative writings, such as Palaephatus’ On Unbelievable Tales.21 Thomas Gale, too, pondered over the nature of the mythographical genre, both indirectly and explicitly. First, Gale himself introduced the disputed dichotomy between exegetical or so-called ‘mythological’ treatises that were gathered in his Opuscula Mythologica, Physica et Ethica (Cambridge: Hayes, 1671) on the one hand, and descriptive or so-called ‘poetic-historical’ writings that were collected in his Historiae Poeticae Scriptores Antiqui (Paris: Muguet, 1675) on the other hand.22 While in the latter compilation Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca is edited together with the classical writings on myth by Conon, Ptolemy Quail, Parthenius and Antoninus Liberalis – as was already pointed out in the opening section of this paper –, the former collection brings together various interpretative and even philosophical treatments of myths, including e. g. Palaephatus’ On Unbelievable Tales, Heraclitus’ treatise of the same title, On the Gods and the World by the fourth-century philosopher Sallust and various Pythagorean fragments. Almost two centuries later, the German philologist Anton Westermann (1806–1869) revived Gale’s memory and published his collection of ancient writings on myth under the subtitle of Scriptores poeticae historiae Graeci. In addition, this genre of mythological writing was now explicitly identified with what we should now call ‘mythography’, as becomes evident from the edition’s main title Μυθογράφοι.23 Unlike Gale, however, Westermann did not confine his compilation of the same 21 An up-to-date status quaestionis of this discussion can be read in Alganza Roldán 2006. Concerning early logographic fragments, see Fowler 2000, xxvii-xxix. Concerning poetical texts, see Smith and Trzaskoma 2011. Concerning interpretative writings, see Alganza Roldán 2006, 21–22. 22 Naturally, various miscellaneous collections of mythological treatises had already been printed before Thomas Gale, though without clear structuring principles. One may, for example, refer to the impressive compilation by Jacob Molzer: C. Iulii Hygini, Augusti liberti, Fabularum liber, ad omnium poetarum lectionem mire necessarius, & nunc denuo excusus. Eiusdem Poeticon Astronomicon Libri quatuor. Quibus accesserunt similis argumenti : Palaephati De fabulosis narra­ tionibus Liber I ; F. Fulgentii Placiadis Episcopi Carthaginensis Mythologiarum Libri III ; eiusdem De vocum antiquarum interpretatione Liber I ; Phornuti De natura deorum, sive poëticarum fab­ ularum allegoriis, speculatio ; Albrici Philosophi De deorum imaginibus Liber ; Arati φαινομένων fragmentum, Germanico Caesare interprete  ; eiusdem Phaenomena Graece cum interpretatione Latina  ; Procli De sphaera libellus, Graece & Latine  ; Apollodori Biblioth. sive de Deorum orig­ ine ; Lilii G. Gyraldi De musis syntagma. Nunc primo vero ex Macrobio, Ficino in Plotinum, Natali de Comitibus, & aliis excerpta lectu dignissima, & operis argumento convenientissima, subiuncta sunt. Index rerum, sententiarum, & fabularum, in his omnibus scitu dignarum, copiosissimus [Iacobus Micyllus edidit] (Lyon: apud Ioannem Degabiano, 1608). 23 Westermann 1843.

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title to purely descriptive treatises, such as Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca and Antoninus Liberalis’ Metamorphoses, but he also included exegetical writings, such as Palaephatus’ On Unbelievble Tales. Finally, the tradition of miscellaneous mythological compilations was continued in the Teubner series of Greek and Latin texts with three volumes, entitled Mythographi Graeci. Just like Westermann, the editors of these volumes neither confined themselves to descriptive treatises, such as Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca and Parthenius’ Narrationes amatoriae, but likewise included On Unbelievable Tales by Palaephatus as well as Heraclitus.24 But let us return to the legacy of Thomas Gale. When compiling his collection of descriptive mythographical writings, Gale somewhat intriguingly inscribed the title Historiae Poeticae Scriptores Antiqui. By doing so, he clearly associated the included writings with an educational context, since it was one of the principal tasks of the grammarian to provide his pupils at an elementary stage with the contextual information that was necessary for the reading of classical authors. And since the school authors were almost exclusively poets, this task basically amounted to the explanation of historiae poeticae or fabulares, and consisted almost entirely of what is now called mythology and biography (Dissertatio, cap. I, p. 5).25 Second, Gale devotes the first chapter of his introductory Dissertatio de Scriptoribus Mythologicis (pp. 5–8) to the various sorts or species of mythological writing. In this exposition, Gale engages in a dialogue with Asclepiades of Myrlea, a Greek grammarian of the second/first century BCE, whose treatises on grammar have survived only indirectly in Sextus Empiricus’ Against the Gram­ marians. As it is, Thomas Gale sets about recapitulating Asclepiades’ tripartition of historia according to its truth content: thus, a historia may either be true (vera), that is to say that it once actually happened or existed; or as-true (quasi vera), that is to say that it has not happened yet, but it may once take place or exist – in a word, the hypothetical situations in dramas26 and mimes; or false (falsa), that

24 R. Wagner (ed.), Mythographi Graeci. Vol. I: Apollodori Bibliotheca et Pediasimi Libellus de duodecim Herculis laboribus (Leipzig: Teubner, 19262); Paul Sakolowski and Edgar Martini (ed.), Mythographi Graeci. Vol. II.1: Parthenii libellus Περὶ ἐρωτικῶν παθημάτων et Antonini Liberalis Μεταμορφώσεων συναγωγή (Leipzig: Teubner, 1896); Edgar Martini (ed.), Mythographi Graeci. Vol. II.2: Parthenii Nicaeni quae supersunt (Leipzig: Teubner, 1902); Alexander Olivieri (ed.), Mythographi Graeci. Vol. III.1: Ps.-Eratosthenis Catasterismi (Leipzig: Teubner, 1897); Nicola Festa (ed.), Mythographi Graeci. Vol. III.2: Palaephati Περί ἀπίστων. Heracliti qui fertur libellus Περί ἀπίστων. Excerpta Vaticana vulgo Anonymus de incredibilibus (Leipzig: Teubner, 1902). 25 For more information on the tasks of the grammarian, see e. g. Slater 1972, 328–329, and Cribiore 2001, 207–208. The didactic qualities of the Bibliotheca were also recognized by Heyne 1803, iii-viii. 26 Unlike Sext. Emp. 1.252: Asclepiades mentions the plots of comedies instead of dramas.



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is to say that it has never taken place or existed, and it will never take place or exist – in a word, myths.27 Then, Asclepiades argues that there is only one kind or species of legendary history,28 that is the genealogical (Sext. Emp. 1.253). One may, for example, refer to the Theogonies written by Hesiod and Orpheus. Gale, however, does not agree with this simplistic view and quotes various non-genealogical specimens of mythological writings as evidence. Hence, he concludes that one should define yet another species or membrum of legendary history, under which can be classified, for instance, allegorical narratives, such as Sallust’s On the Gods and the World; rhetorical narrations, such as Libanius’ διηγήματα; and metamorphoses. In particular, as regards the genre of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca, Gale argues that the handbook is in fact of a mixed nature (ex mixtorum genere), since it continuously intermingles genealogies and mythologiae (Dissertatio, cap. V, p. 40). With this rather uninformative term, Gale seems to refer to the second species of mythological writing, which he unfortunately did not specify by name in the relevant first chapter of his Dissertatio (p. 6).

4 The nature of the Bibliotheca and its relation to Apollodorus of Athens’ On Gods In his lengthy overview of more than 15 different Greek authors bearing the name Apollodorus (Dissertatio, cap. III, pp. 9–18), Thomas Gale does not call into question the traditional authorship of the Bibliotheca: following the manuscripts and previous editions, Gale takes this handy companion to Greek mythology to have been compiled by the famous grammarian Apollodorus of Athens (Dissertatio, cap. III, p. 18). According to the Suda lexicon, this author was a son of Asclepiades, and one of the pupils of the Stoic philosopher Panaetius of Rhodes (ca. 185–110 BCE) and of the grammarian Aristarchus of Samothrace (ca. 220–143 BCE). Accordingly, his floruit is generally assigned to the middle of the 2nd century BCE, i. e. during the reign of the Egyptian king Ptolemy VIII Euergetes II (145–116 BCE) and of Attalus II Philadelphus, ruler of Pergamum (220–138 BCE) (Dissertatio, cap. III, p. 22). 27 See Sext. Emp. 1.252. 28 Gale uses the rather controversial term ‘mythistoria’ for this category of false or legendary history (Dissertatio, cap. I, p. 6). Although he claims to have borrowed this noun from Suetonius’ Tiberius, it is only recorded in the Historia Augusta (Opil. 1.5; Quadr. Tyr. 1.2) according to the Thesaurus Linguae Latinae.

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Intriguingly, however, and unlike most of his predecessors, Thomas Gale does not pass over Apollodorus’ quotation of the chronographer Castor in silence (Κάστωρ δὲ ὁ συγγράψας τὰ χρονικὰ καὶ πολλοὶ τῶν τραγικῶν Ἰνάχου τὴν Ἰὼ λέγουσιν, Apollod. Bibl. 2.1.3 [5]), although this exact reference would later – and more specifically since the pioneering dissertation of Carl Robert29 – become the main argument against the authorship of Apollodorus of Athens, since the quoted “author of the chronicles” is usually identified with the Greek historian Castor of Rhodes, who lived much later than Apollodorus of Athens, sc. about the time of Cicero and Julius Caesar, according to the Suda lexicon.30 However, Thomas Gale insists that the quoted chronicler must have lived at or slightly before the time of Apollodorus, that is around 150 BCE, and thus that the compiler of the Suda lexicon had actually confused two homonymous authors (Dissertatio, cap. V, p. 39).31 More importantly, however, Gale was the very first scholar to defend the independent status of the Bibliotheca with regard to Apollodorus of Athens’ detailed history of Greek religion, entitled On the Gods. Although Gale explicitly refrains from targeting specific scholars (Dissertatio, cap. V, p. 34), it is true that all of his predecessors had either simply identified the Bibliotheca with On the Gods, or considered the Bibliotheca as an abridged version of the twenty four-volume On the Gods, whether or not interspersed with fragments of other treatises by Apollodorus of Athens.32 This innovative proposition of Gale would later be confirmed by Robert,33 who ultimately proved that the Bibliotheca could not possibly be identified with or derived from On the Gods or any other work by Apollodorus of Athens, more specifically on content-related, chronological as well as stylistic grounds.34

29 Robert 1873, 26–27. 30 Suda s.u. Κάστωρ: Ῥόδιος, ἢ ὥς τινες Γαλάτης, ὡς δὲ ἄλλοι ἐπλανήθησαν Μασσαλιώτης· ῥήτωρ ὃς ἐκλήθη Φιλορώμαιος. γήμας δὲ οὗτος Δηϊοτάρου τοῦ συγκλητικοῦ θυγατέρα ἀνῃρέθη ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ ἅμα τῇ γαμετῇ, διότι αὐτὸν Καίσαρι διέβαλεν. ἔγραψε δὲ Ἀναγραφὴν Βαβυλῶνος καὶ τῶν θαλασσοκρατησάντων ἐν βιβλίοις βʹ, Χρονικὰ ἀγνοήματα, καὶ Περὶ ἐπιχειρημάτων ἐν βιβλίοις εʹ, Περὶ πειθοῦς βʹ, Περὶ τοῦ Νείλου, τέχνην ῥητορικήν, καὶ ἕτερα. For more information on this shadowy author, see e .g. Geus 1999. 31 The same hypothesis was defended by Westermann 1838, 202. Another way to get round this chronological inconsistency was to consider the reference to Castor to be added by a later epitomator, see e. g. Le Fèvre 1666, 263. 32 Still useful in this regard is the status quaestionis by Robert 1873, 1–3. More detailed references to the advocates of the hypothesis of the Bibliotheca being an abridged version of another writing by Apollodorus of Athens, can be found in Heyne 1803, xliv and Müller 1841, xxxix. 33 Robert 1873, 4–44. 34 Prior to Robert, only Vossius (1658, 36) had suggested that Apollodorus of Athens might not be the author of the Bibliotheca, as the handbook was “plane indignum … tanto Grammatico”.



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According to Gale, the incorrect association of the Bibliotheca with On the Gods originated in the conflation of two misconceptions. First, Benedetto Egio unjustly invented the alternative title De deorum origine, when printing the Bib­ liotheca for the very first time: in particular on the basis of the first pages of the Bibliotheca that dealt with the origin of the gods, he considered the Bibliotheca to be identical to Apollodorus of Athens’ On the Gods.35 Consequently, when later scholars came across this handy-sized booklet on Greek mythology, entitled On the Origin of the Gods, they were easily misled and readily jumped to the conclusion that it was an abridged version of the original twenty four-volume encyclopaedia, entitled On the Gods, by Apollodorus of Athens. But this alternative title, as Gale argues, is completely arbitrary, since it is not mentioned by Photius (186.142), nor in any surviving manuscript, nor by any scholiast who excerpted the Bibliotheca (Dissertatio, cap. V, pp. 35–36). Second, Thomas Gale argues that previous scholars have misinterpreted Photius’ notice of the Bibliotheca (186.142). On the one hand, the latter’s brief summary of the Bibliotheca (περιεῖχε δὲ τὰ παλαίτατα τῶν Ἑλλήνων, ὅσα τε περὶ θεῶν τε καὶ ἡρώων ὁ χρόνος αὐτοῖς δοκάζειν ἔδωκεν) cannot hint at On the Gods, as the Bibliotheca deals exclusively with Greek mythology, while On the Gods also discussed the rituals and beliefs of various barbaric tribes. On the other hand, his evaluation of the handbook (σύνοψις δ᾿ ἐστὶ τὰ πολλὰ τοῦ βιβλίου καὶ οὐκ ἄχρηστος τοῖς τὰ παλαιὰ ἐπὶ μνήμης ἔχειν λόγον ποιουμένοις) does not insinuate that the Bibliotheca would be an abridged version of another writing by Apollodorus of Athens, most plausibly On the Gods, but rather characterizes this handbook as a condensed compilation of mythological narratives that otherwise lie scattered and irreconciled in stacks of ancient writings, especially poetry (Dissertatio, cap. V, pp. 36–37). In this way, the handbook turns out to be entitled Bibliotheca very conveniently, as it may be considered as a ‘library’ of mythological histories, that is a well-disposed and easily searchable summary account of all relevant texts in the field of Greek mythology (Dissertatio, cap. V, p. 39). As a matter of fact, Gale finds his interpretation of Photius’ σύνοψις confirmed in the elegant epigram that the patriarch found at the opening of his copy of the Bibliotheca, inciting the reader to consult the Bibliotheca instead of wading through countless lines of poetry (Dissertatio, cap. V, p. 37). Finally, Thomas Gale briefly lists five arguments of his own in order to overturn the long-standing hypothesis that the Bibliotheca is an abridged version of Apollodorus of Athens’ On the Gods, or is otherwise associated with the latter encyclopaedia. Most convincingly, he is the first to give attention to the numerous

35 Egio 1555 [not numbered: letter to Fulvius Ursinus].

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cross-references throughout the Bibliotheca in which the author turns to his readers in the first person singular and plural; these remarks can be either foreshadowing (e. g. Σειρῆνες, περὶ ὧν ἐν τοῖς περὶ Ὀδυσσέως ἐροῦμεν, Apollod. Bibl. 1.3.4 [18]), or retrospective (ἐπειδὴ δὲ τὸ τοῦ Δευκαλίωνος διεξεληλύθαμεν γένος, Apollod. 2.1.1 [1]), or summarizing (ἀλλὰ περὶ μέν τούτων μέχρι τοῦ δεῦρο ἡμῖν λελέχθω, Apollod. 1.7.1 [45]).36 As Gale points out rightly, such structuring clauses prove that the author had a sound grasp of the scope and arrangement of his work, and do not tally very well with the methods of an epitomator. In addition, the contents and the style of the surviving fragments of On the Gods neither correspond with the flavour of the Bibliotheca (Dissertatio, cap. V, pp. 37–39).37

5 Concluding remarks: between tradition and innovation With these groundbreaking observations, this exploration of Thomas Gale’s legacy as far as the Bibliotheca is concerned, has come to an end. However, whereas this paper mainly focused on a few salient viewpoints from his introductory Dissertatio, further research can still be done, especially on the contents and the value of Gale’s commenting Notae. Research questions may include, but are not limited to the sources of this running commentary, Gale’s use of the manuscripts and his views on the mythographical tradition emerging from these notes. While elaborating on some key features of Gale’s edition, this paper has tried to highlight the scholar’s ambivalent position within scholarship on the Bibliotheca, as he was both a conventionalist and an instigator of change and innovation. When editing the Greek text, for example, he was the first scholar to inspect the Oxford manuscript, which was at that time the closest witness to the archetype R, to be discovered more than a century later by Carl and Theodor Müller (1841). In addition, he was the very first to divide the text into chapters and sections, and this arrangement stays in use to date. By contrast, the starting point for his edition remained Egio’s editio princeps (1555), and for his translation the then most recent version by Le Fèvre (1661). Further, when pondering on the nature of the mythographical genre, he introduced the controversial dichotomy between descriptive and exegetical writings, and this distinction still influences

36 A recent discussion of these cross-references can be found in Trzaskoma 2013. 37 The same objection was already made by Vossius (1658, 36) and would later be repeated by Robert (1873, 4–44).



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similar mythological compilations, such as Teubner’s Mythographi Graeci. By contrast, when defining the position of myths within the field of historiae, he closely follows in the footsteps of the classical grammarian Asclepiades of Myrlea. Finally, when discussing the nature of the Bibliotheca, Gale is the first to state its independency with regard to Apollodorus of Athens’ On the Gods. By contrast, he accepts the traditional authorship of the Bibliotheca by Apollodorus of Athens, thus faithfully following the manuscripts and his predecessors.

Bibliography Bernard, John Peter et al. A General Dictionary, Historical and Critical… By the Reverend Mr. John Peter Bernard; the Reverend Mr. Thomas Birch; Mr. John Lockman; and other hands (London: James Bettenham, 1737), vol. V, 363–367. Alganza Roldán, Minverva. La mitografía como género de la prosa helenística, FlorIlib 17 (2006), 9–37. Cambridge Alumni Database, available at venn.lib.cam.ac.uk/Documents/acad/intro.html. Cambridge under Queen Anne. Illustrated by memoir of Ambrose Bonwicke and diaries of Francis Burman and Zacharias Conrad von Uffenbach. Edited with Notes by J.E.B. Mayor. With a preface by Montague Rhodes James (Cambridge: Bell & sons, 1911). Cribiore, Raffaella. Gymnastics of the Mind: Greek Education in Hellenistic and Roman Egypt (Princeton: University Press, 2001). Diller, Aubrey. The Text History of the Bibliotheca of Pseudo-Apollodorus. TAPA 66 (1935), 296–313. Doggett, Nicholas. Gale, Thomas (1635/6–1702), in: Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (online version) (Oxford: University Press, 2004). Fowler, Robert (ed.). Early Greek Mythography. Vol. I: Texts (Oxford: University Press, 2000). Geus, Klaus. Kastor von Rhodos [2], in: Der neue Pauly. Enzyklopädie der Antike, edited by H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Stuttgart-Weimar: J.B. Metzler, 1999), vol. 6, 325. Heyne, Chr. G. Apollodori Atheniensis Bibliothecae libri tres et fragmenta. Curis secundis illustravit Chr. G. Heyne (Gottingae: Henricus Dieterich, 1803). Huetius, P.D. Commentarii de Rebus ad eum pertinentibus (Amsterdam: apud Henricum du Sauzet, 1718). Huys, Marc. 125 Years of Scholarship on Apollodorus the Mythographer : A Bibliographical Survey. Ant. Class. 66 (1997), 320–325. Kirchner, E. Collectio Graeca ex Apollodori Bibliotheca, Luciani Dialogis Mortuorum, et Demosthenis Orat. De Pace. Versionibus adiectis, et Apollodori fere nova (Halle: Orphanotropheum, 1862). Knight, Samuel. The Life of Dr. John Colet, Dean of St. Paul’s in the reigns of K. Henry VII. and K. Henry VIII. and founder of St. Paul’s School… (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1823). Meusel, J.G. Bibliothek des Apollodors (Halle: bei Joh. Jac. Curt, 1768). Müller, Carl and Theodor Müller. Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum. Vol. I (Paris: Didot, 1841). Nichols, John. Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century… (London: Nichols-Bentley, 1812). Papathomopoulos, Manolis. Απολλoδώρου Βιβλιοθήκη / Apollodori Bibliotheca post Richardum Wagnerum recognita (Athinai: Aletheia, 2010).

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Port, Wilhelm. Hieronymus Commelinus, 1550–1597: Leben und Werk eines Heidelberger Drucker-Verlegers (Leipzig: Harrassowitz, 1938). Ribard, Dinah. Le petit maitre de Saumur: Tanneguy Le Fèvre et la socialisation de l’érudition protestante. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français 154 (2008), 41–60. Robert, Carl. De Apollodori Bibliotheca (Diss. Berlin: Schade, 1873). Sandys, John Edwin. A History of Classical Scholarship (Cambridge: University Press, 1908). Slater, William J. Asklepiades and Historia. GRBS 13 (1972), 328–329. Smith, R. Scott and Stephen M. Trzaskoma. Mythography, in: Oxford Bibliographies Online (Oxford: University Press, 2011). Trzaskoma, Stephen M. Citation, Organization and Authorial Presence in Ps.-Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca, in: Stephen M. Trzaskoma and R. Scott Smith (ed.), Writing Myth: Mythography in the Ancient World (Leuven: Peeters Publishers, 2013), 75–94. Tucker, G. Hugo. Mantua’s Second Virgil: Du Bellay, Montaigne and the Curious Fortune of Lelio Capilupi’s Centones ex Virgilio Romae, 1555, in: Ut Granum Sinapis: Essays on Neo-Latin Literature in Honour of Jozef Ijsewijn, Supplementa Humanistica Lovaniensia 12, edited by Gilbert Tournoy & Dirk Sacré (Leuven: University Press, 1997), 264–291. Vossius, Isaac. Observationes ad Pomponium Melam De situ Orbis (Hagæ-Comitis: apud Adrianum Vlacq, 1658). Wagner, Richard. Mythographi Graeci. Vol. I: Apollodori Bibliotheca et Pediasimi Libellus de duodecim Herculis laboribus (Stuttgart & Leipzig: Teubner, 1894; 1926²). Westermann, Anton. Gerardi Ioannis Vossii De historicis Graecis libri tres. Auctiores et emendatiores edidit Antonius Westermann (Leipzig: libraria Dykiana, 1838). Westermann, Anton. Μυθόγραφοι. Scriptores Poeticae Historiae Graeci (Brunswig: Westermann, 1843).

Sotera Fornaro

14 The Apollodorus of Christian Gottlob Heyne 1. Christian Gottlob Heyne (1729–1832), professor in Göttingen from 1763, is ­generally considered a precursor in the various disciplines included in Altertum­ swissenschaft, from philology, to numismatics, to archaeology. His use of comparisons to understand Greek culture and his receptiveness to ethnography, historical anthropology and the philosophy of history all appear to be modern.1 Despite its limits, Heyne’s annotated edition of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca represents a milestone.2 He neither consulted the best manuscript of the tradition, Laudianus 55, nor did he personally collate the manuscripts, as was usual at that time. Instead, he used first of all the work of an unknown Swedish scholar, Gottfried Johann van Swinden, who had published a specimen of an edition of Apollodorus in 1741.3 He also often resorted to emendatio and defended his methods both against those who ‘superstitiously’ ad omnem coniecturam auctoris verbis illatam ­horrescunt as well as against those who overused correction: ita scriptorem ­corrigunt, non libra­riorum vitia.4 Many of Heyne’s corrections subsequently proved to be wellfounded. Certainly he made good use of the discussions in his philological ­seminars and he thanked several of his students in his praefatio to the text.5 The edition was conceived as a didactic tool from the very first, when Heyne began teaching Griechische Mythologie in 1779. In the Vorlesungsverzeichnis in

1 Marino 1995; Sassi 1986; Vöhler 2002; Caianello 2005; Heidenreich 2006; Graepler and Migl 2007; Grafton 2010; Fornaro 2011; Bäbler and Nesselrath 2014; Fornaro 2015. On Heyne’s textual criticism see Fiesoli 2000. 2 See Cuartero 2010, 56–57. 3 Miscellaneae observationes criticae novae in auctores veteres et recentiores in Belgio collectae & proditae, Amstelaedami, T. III, 1741, 37–99. Cf. Heyne 1782, 7–8. Moreover ­Johannes Schweighäuser (1742–1830) ‘ex tertio Regio excerptam lectionem misit’: Heyne 1782,  8. More ­exactly: “…ut is tertium codicem n.1658, quem antea 2663 fuisse audio, in usum meum c­ onferret”: Heyne 1783, vol. III, 957; cf. 952–960. 4 Heyne 1782, 6. 5 Heyne 1782, 4; cf. Christoph Wilhelm Mitscherlich, Epistula critica in Apollodorum ad virum illustrem Chr. Gottl. Heyne, Gottingae 1792. Mitscherlich (1760–1854), a pupil of Heyne, became Professor of Latin in Göttingen in 1792. Sotera Fornaro, Università di Sassari DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-014

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Göttingen for the Sommersemester 1780 he made two announcements. One was a notice of the reading – in public and during his seminars – of the Bibliotheca by Apollodorus ‘to better understand the mythology’; the other was the publication of an edition of that text.6 His lessons on Apollodorus continued until publication (in 1782 the text and in 1783 the three volumes of notes),7 after which Heyne never again taught courses on Apollodorus. He would instead consider the origin and function of myth his entire life;8 the annotated edition of Apollodorus was the centre of his reflections.9 Heyne arrived at Apollodorus when his thoughts on mythology were at their greatest maturity and these considerations can be found in his Commentatio de Apollodori Bibliotheca novaque eius recensione simulque universe de litteratura mitica.10 Here Heyne restored mythos as a scholarly word, different in content from the Latin fabula that the French preferred, although he never defined ‘myth’.11 He instead investigated the reason for mythology, its aim and its uses in various epochs.

2. Heyne mistakenly never doubted that the Bibliotheca had been written by

Apollodorus, Athenian grammarian of the Alexandrian period, thus believing it to be the product of an erudite age eager for rare and little known details.

6 “Vorlesungen über die griech. Sprache und gr. Prosanscribenten: Hr. Hofr. Heyne wird Apollodors Bibliothek, zu besserm Verständnis der Mythologie öffent. und zum Theil auch im Seminario erklären, und sie, damit es nicht an Exemplaren fehle, abdrucken lassen”: Verzeichnis der Vorle­ sungen welche in dem nächsten Sommer vom 10ten April 1780… auf der Universität Göttingen gehalten werden, 1780, 13. 7 Heyne 1782 and Heyne 1783. 8 Among the other dissertationes of Heyne, cf. De origine et caussis fabularum Homericarum, in: Novi Commentarii Societatis Regiae Scientiarum Gottingensis, vol. 8 (1778), 34–58; De Theogonia ab Hesiodo condita, in: Commentationes Societatis Regiae Scientiarum Gottingensi recentiores, II, 1763, 125–154; De caussis fabularum seu mythorum physicis (1764), in: Heyne 1785–1812, vol. I, 184–206. Cf. Verra 1966; Graf 1992; Horstmann 1972; Chiarini 1989; Most 1999; Fornaro 2004; Scheer 2014. 9 Cf. Heyne 1783, vol: I, 3–4: “Igitur ut ad Apollodorum illustrandum animum adiicerem, me non tam Apollodori caussa impulit, ut haberem in quo scriptore restituendo et emendando operam criticam collocarem; quae sane satis levis foret opera, et ad graviorem forte scriptorem melius transferenda; quam ipsa mythologiae ratio, cum eam nec satis bene a multis teneri, neque recte tradi viderem. A mythis tamen, ut iterum hoc moneam, omnis priscorum hominum cum historia tum philosophia procedit, neque adeo is, qui aut historias antiquiorum aetatum tractat, aut philosophiae origines et religionum caussas investigat, cursum recte suum instituere potest, nisi a mythis, tamquam carceribus, progressus sit”. 10 Originally at the front of the Volume III of the Notae to Apollodorus: Heyne 1782–1783, vol. III, 905–972 (= Heyne 1803, XXV-LVI). 11 “Accepere illi (scil. Homerus et Hesiodus) fabulas, seu, quo vocabulo lubentius utor, mythos, non invenere”: Heyne 1783, vol. III, 914; cf. Graf 1992.



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For that very reason, Apollodorus stood out in Heyne’s panorama of the Greek mythological tradition, as Heyne credited him with pursuing a compendium not of all Greek myths but only of those myths used by poets. Heyne wrote that since Apollodorus avoided the obscurity of other writers and the interpretive abstruseness of other grammarians of the same period, his researching of the sources for ancient poetic traditions was valuable and trustworthy. Apollodorus’ main model must have been the lost work of Pherecydes.12 The epigram that Photius claimed was at the beginning in the ‘little book’ illustrated the poetic sources of the Bibliotheca and its ambition to contain the ‘cosmos’ of the myths by following the ‘cyclical’ order given by the poets.13 In the part of the Bibliotheca dedicated to heroic genealogy, Apollodorus was exemplary in organizing the mythological material in a system (tamquam systema aliquod).14

3. In the Praefatio to the II volume of the Notes, the educational value of studying

mythology was further and polemically emphasised in contrast to contemporary scholars. Heyne claimed that the interpretation of the poets was not a game but rather the most important activity of study, forming and governing the power of mind called ‘imagination’ (phantasia), without which we could neither create nor judge beauty.15 However, the education to beauty, aesthetic education, could not be separated from moral education.16 Heyne continued by explaining that knowing how to discover the original meaning of mythos, or at least getting closer to it, did not detract from understanding the Sacred Scriptures,17 as some claimed. He also believed that myths were to be studied by comparing sources. This comparison showed how contemporary poets had varied and innovated the myths, how these had been used in a purely ornamental way in discourse, how far poets had moved away from the ‘simplicity, propriety and seriousness’18 of the original archaic style. It is not difficult to recognise in these categories the echo of the characteristics of Greek art (‘edle Einfalt und stille Größe’) according to Winckelmann in his Thoughts on the Imitation of Greek Works (1755). Heyne lamented that a history of the myths of Homer and Hesiod remained to be written; in the meantime, Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca was quite

12 Heyne 1803, VIII. 13 Heyne 1803, XL-XLI. 14 Heyne 1803, X. 15 Heyne 1803, XVII. 16 Heyne 1803, XVII: “…sic induimus ingenii ac sensus illam vim, quam gustum pulcri verique appellamus, quem qui assequutus fuerit, nae is ad virtutis et honestatis studium praesidia habere videtur haud vulgaria”. 17 Heyne 1803, XVII: “Hic... sermo (scil. mythicus)… ad meliorem interpretationem antiquiorum litterarum sacrarum…attulisse videri posset”. 18 Heyne 1803, XIX: “…in eloquendi simplicitate, proprietate et gravitate”.

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useful.19 In fact, not only did it comprise the elements necessary to interpret the poets, but it was also a productive way to understand how myths had been used in antiquity. He argued that mythology was a malleable discipline in general and that mythological manuals should be different from each other according to their use, whether for artists and art experts on one hand or for modern poets on the other.20 He claimed there were mythologies rather than a single mythology and that the mythopoetic capacities of humans did not end with antiquity. This final reflection is of no little importance if one thinks of the role that ‘new’ mythology would play in philosophy not long after.21

4. Heyne’s wish for a modern manual of mythology seems to have been fulfilled by one of his students, Martin Gottfried Herrmann (1754–1822). The first volume was published in 1787 and dealt with Homer and Hesiod.22 It contained an introduction by Heyne written in enthusiastic tones but in polemics with the pedagogue Johann Bernhard Basedow (1724–1790), who had defined mythology as ‘silly chatter’ and even ‘dangerous’.23 Heyne wrote that mythology was just as dangerous as a ‘history of heresies’: it all depended on who was writing and why. Mythology was also indispensable, Heyne claimed, for understanding culture and art, both ancient and modern. Heyne’s introduction to Herrmann’s second volume, about lyric poetry,24 was more tepid. Herrmann had included Orphic fragments in his collection, which Heyne considered ‘corrupt philosophy’. The third volume dealt with constellations,25 not tragic poetry as Heyne had desired, and did not contain a preface by this latter. He was most likely by now in disagreement with the structure of the work, which in his opinion indulged too much in the study of late antique symbols and allegories.26 It is in fact a paradox of the history 19 Heyne, 1803, XIX. 20 Heyne 1803, XIX-XX: (I saw) “…in libello Apollodoreo occurrere ea, quae maxime et cognitu essent necessaria et ad poetarum antiquiorum lectionem utilia, et ad priscas mythorum rationes cognoscendas fructuosa (nam pro consilio diverso diversa mythologiae tractandae ratio esse debet, si quis v.c. artium operibus cognoscendis aut poetis recentioribus similem libellum conscribere vellet)”. 21 Cf. Fornaro 2013. 22 Herrmann 1787. 23 Cf. Heyne about Basedow’s Elementarwerk in: Göttingische Anzeigen von gelehrten Sachen, and 22. St., 21. Febr. 1775, 183–184. 24 Herrmann 1790. 25 Herrmann 1795. 26 “(…) Heyne has already performed the fundamental step which separates the modern view of myths from the pre-Enlightenment one: that is, he has distinguished them from poetry, by analysing the transmitted poetic myths, like those found in the works of Homer and Hesiod, into two different components, an earlier, mythic content, and a later, poetic form”: Most 1999, 39 (about Heyne espec.: 36–40).



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of research that the pejorative Heynianismus, coined by Johann Heinrich Voss in his Antisymbolik (1826), indicates the ‘symbolic’ and romantic phase of the interpretation of Greek mythology.27

5. Although Heyne made use of comparisons, any element external to Greek mythol-

ogy, generically from the East or from Egypt seemed to him a corruption of the original Greek character of myths.28 He considered that character preserved in the Bib­ liotheca of Apollodorus, where for example Apollodorus ignored other traditions and referred directly to Hesiod when writing about theogony.29 Then after writing about the theogonies and the cosmogonies, Apollodorus presented the myths of the various Greek tribes.30 Heyne believed this to be ‘the right way’ to treat the topic,31 to first reveal the mythological traditions independently for each tribe, which only later appropriated other traditions, modifying and mixing them as they pleased. Heyne clearly anticipated the work of Karl Otfried Müller.32 Heyne considered the traditions of the various Hellenic tribes in the ‘historic’ myths of Apollodorus as older than those of the Pelasgians themselves and uncontaminated by external influences. The principle of genealogy guided both the theogonies and the heroic myths: the establishment of these latter happened prior to Homer, after which the variations began. As Heeren wrote, it was through Apollodorus that Heyne first understood the “distinction of the Greek myths according to tribes, their connections and the relationship among them”.33

6. Heyne’s notes contain abundant material; to best appreciate their extent, consult the four-volume edition of 1783, which contains genealogical tables and a detailed index of the names of the ancient authors. The notes of the edition of 1803 are much shorter, to reduce the size of the book and make it more easily usable but also because Heyne limited himself to listing the sources of the myths and briefly justifying his own textual corrections, referring to critics who had attacked him indignis modis.34 27 Voss 1826. 28 Cf. Heyne 1783, vol. I, 6. 29 Heyne, 1783, vol. I, 7. 30 Heyne 1803, XXV: “Sequitur altera sectio ad finem libri primi: mythi Hellenici, seu p­riscae narrationes a maioribus fando acceptae de auctorum stirpis Hellenicae fatis rebusque g­estis...” 31 Cf. Göttingische Anzeigen von gelehrten Sachen, 170. St., 26. Okt. 1809, 1691–1692 (in the review of Clavier, Histoire des premiers Temps de la Grèce). 32 Müller 1825. 33 Heeren 1813, 197. 34 Heyne 1803, IV.

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Heyne’s work on Apollodorus has the same good and bad points as his other monumental commentaries, such as those on Virgil and Homer. The quantity of erudite material is impressive and valuable even while being both extremely fragmented and such a product of Baroque polymathia that in the myriad of information the sense of the whole can get lost (as Friedrich Schegel wrote in general about Heyne’s commentaries).35 In particular, the ‘comparative’ intentions of the introduction were ignored in the minutiae of gathering sources. In short, it is a commentary poised between 17th-18th century erudition and 19th-century philological precision, to whose levels of exactness it never arrived. A century would have to pass before Carl Robert published his careful study on the attribution, the period, the structure and the aim of the Bibliotheca. All the same, Robert deserves credit for considering Heyne’s observations “very wise”.36

Bibliography Bäbler, Balbina and Nesselrath, Heinz-Günther (ed.). Christian Gottlob Heyne Werk und Leistung nach zweihundert Jahren (Berlin: De Gruyter Akademie Forschung, 2014). Caianello, Silvia. Christian Gottlob Heyne, in: Scienza e tempo alle origini dello storicismo tedesco (Napoli: Liguori, 2005), 129–162. Cuartero, Francesc J. (ed.). Pseudo-Apollodor, Biblioteca, vol. I (Barcelona: Fundació Bernat Metge 2010). Chiarini, Gioacchino. Ch. G. Heyne e gli inizi dello studio scientifico della mitologia, Lares, 55 (1989), 317–331. Fiesoli, Giovanni. La genesi del Lachmannismo (Firenze: Edizioni del Galluzzo 2000). Fornaro, Sotera. I Greci senza lumi. L’antropologia della Grecia antica in Christian Gottlob Heyne (1729–1812) e nel suo tempo (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004). Fornaro, Sotera. Christian Gottlob Heyne dans l’histoire des études classiques, Revue germanique internationale 14 (2011), 15–26. Fornaro, Sotera. Christian Gottlbob Heyne und Friedrich Schlegel, Schlegel-Studien, 7 (2013), 45–58. Fornaro, Sotera. Christian Gottlob Heyne e le nuove vie dello ‘studio degli antichi’, in Diego Lanza and Gherardo Ugolini (ed.), Storia della filologia classica (Roma: Carocci, 2015), 49–70. Graepler, Daniel and Migl, Joachim (ed.), Das Studium des schönen Altertums. Christian Gottlob Heyne und die Entstehung der klassischen Archäologie. Ausstellung in der Paulinerkirche Göttingen, 11. Februar – 15. April 2007 (Göttingen: Niedersächsische Staats- und Univ.Bibliothek Göttingen 2007).

35 Schlegel 1813. 36 Robert 1873, for ex. 51 and 88.



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Graf, Fritz. Die Entstehug des Mythosbegriffs bei C.G. Heyne, in: F. Graf (ed.), Mythos in mythenloser Gesellschaft. Das Paradigna Roms (Stuttgart-Leipzig: Teubner, 1992), 284–294. Grafton, Anthony. Heyne, Christian Gottlob. in: Anthony Grafton, Glenn W. Most, Salvatore Settis (ed.). The Classical Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 436–437. Heeren, Arnold Hermann Ludwig. Christian Gottlob Heyne. Biographisch dargestellt (Göttingen: Röwer, 1813). Heidenreich, Marianne. Christian Gottlob Heyne und die Alte Geschichte (München-Leipzig: Teubner, 2006). Herrmann, Martin Gottfried. Handbuch der Mythologie aus Homer und Hesiod, als Grundlage zu einer richtigeren Fabellehre des Alterthums mit erläuternden Anmerkungen begleitet. Nebst einer Vorr. des Heyne (Berlin und Stettin: Nicolai 1787, 18002). Herrmann, Martin Gottfried. Handbuch der Mythologie enthaltend die Mythen aus den Lyrischen Dichtern der Griechen: mit erläuternden Anmerkungen. Zweyter Band: Nebst einer Vorrede des Herrn Hofrath Heyne (Berlin und Stettin: Nicolai, 1790) Herrmann, Martin Gottfried. Handbuch der Mythologie enthaltend die astronomischen Mythen der Griechen: mit erläuternden Anmerkungen begleitet; nebst einer Sterncharte und Einleitung (Berlin und Stettin: Nicolai, 1795). Heyne, Christian Gottlob. Apollodori Atheniensis bibliothecae libri tres; Ad codd. mss. fidem recensiti a Chr. G. Heyne (Göttingen: Dieterich, 1782). Heyne, Christian Gottlob. Ad Apollodori Atheniensis bibliothecam notae, cum commentatione de Apollodoro, argumento et consilio operis, et cum Apollodori fragmentis. Pars I–III, (Göttingen: Dieterich, 1783). Heyne, Christian Gottlob. Apollodori Atheniensis bibliothecae libri tres et fragmenta curis secundis illustravit Chr. G. Heyne, Bd. I–II (Göttingen: Dieterich, 1803; repr. Hildesheim: Olms, 1972). Heyne, Christian Gottlob. Opuscula Academica (collecta et animadversionibus locupletata), 6 vol., (Göttingen und Gotha: Dieterich, 1785–1812). Horstmann, Alex E. Mythologie und Altertumswissenschaft. Der Mythosbegriff bei Ch.G. Heyne, Archiv für Begriffsgeschichte 16 (1972), 60–85. Marino, Luigi. Praeceptores Germaniae: Göttingen 1770–1820 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1995). Translation with revisions of: I maestri della Germania. (Torino: Einaudi, 1975). Most, Glenn W. From Logos to Mythos, in: Richard Buxton (ed.), From Myth to Reason? Studies in the development of Greek Thought (Oxford: Oxford University Press 1999), 25–47. Müller, Karl Otfried. Prolegomena zu einer wissenschaftlichen Mythologie (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1825). Robert, Carl. De Apollodori bibliotheca (Berlin: Schade, 1873). Sassi, Maria Michela. La freddezza dello storico: Christian Gottlob Heyne, Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, serie III, XVI, 1 (1986), 105–126. Scheer, Tanja, Heyne und der griechische Mythos, in Balbina Bäbler and Heinz-Günther Nesselrath (ed.), 2014, 1–28. Schlegel, Friedrich. Review of Heeren 1813, Deutsches Museum 4 (1813), 177–185 (= KFSA 3, 294–301).

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Verra, Valerio. Rivelazione e filosofi in J.G. Herder e nel suo tempo (Milano: Marzorati 1966), reprinted in: Verra, Valerio. Linguaggio, mito e storia. Studi sul pensiero di Herder, a cura di Claudio Cesa, (Pisa: Edizioni della Normale, 2006), 119–284. Vöhler, Martin. Christian Gottlob Heyne und das Studium des Altertums in Deutschland, in: Glenn W. Most (ed.), Disciplining classics – Altertumswissenschaft als Beruf (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2002), 39–54. Voss, Johann Heinrich. Antisymbolik. Zweiter Theil (Stuttgart: Metzler, 1826).

Glenn W. Most

15 Postface: The Mazes of Mythography Ancient mythography, taking the term in its most narrow, technical sense, is the genre of Greek and Latin prose handbooks that aimed to provide a more or less systematic, more or less comprehensive compilation of many of the ancient myths such as were to be found in the works of the Greek poets; the two most prominent surviving examples are Hyginus’ Fabulae and the Bibliotheca that used to be ascribed to Apollodorus of Athens. Conventionally, this genre is understood as mediating historically as the second phase between two other ones: first there was the period of mythic texts, during which poets beginning with Homer and Hesiod narrated or alluded to the traditional myths in their literary compositions in verse; then came the age of the mythographical writings, from the H ­ ellenistic period through Late Antiquity (and continuing on with various modifications until the Renaissance), during which more or less scholarly authors drew upon earlier compilations, and in at least some cases directly upon those canonical poems themselves, in order to compose their handbooks; and finally arrived the post-ancient era of the history of mythography, in which modern scholars, starting sometime in the Renaissance (or later) took the ancient mythographers themselves as an object of study in order to understand the relations amongst these and between them and their various sources. On this view, the first phase would be an aspect of early ancient poetry, the second an example of later ancient technical literature, and the third a practice of modern Classical scholarship. This is a perfectly clear framework, but it takes only a little bit of enlargement of the definition of the underlying concept of mythography to make its foundations tremble. For were not the poets themselves already mythographers, compiling the various versions of the myths available to them and choosing from amongst them the ones that seemed best adapted for the effects they wanted to obtain and at the same time hinting in various ways at the others? Is Hesiod’s Theogony not itself a systematic collection and compilation of a very large number of narrative and genealogical myths derived from various sources (including doubtless some invented by Hesiod himself), one that was composed in verse presumably mostly because at the time prose was simply not an available option? And is the post-­ ancient philological scholarship that is devoted to analyzing ancient mythography anything other than a modern attempt to understand the whole mythographical

Glenn W. Most, Pisa/Chicago DOI 10.1515/9783110545326-015

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tradition by the well-practiced scholarly techniques of source criticism and historiography, thereby prolonging that tradition with modern means and without establishing any essential caesura with regard to it? Viewed in these terms, what we are dealing with is not so much three discrete phases as rather a single continuous mythographical tradition, one that begins with the earliest Greek poets and continues to our own day – indeed, up to and including this very volume – and that sets itself the goal, during every period, by deploying whatever ways seem at that time to be most appropriate, of bringing some kind of order into the wild disarray of the transmitted Greek myths – myths that were often strange enough in themselves, but that became even harder to systematize because of the highly specific local conditions of their creation and the inconsistent and highly lacunose nature of their oral and poetic early transmission. Whether what the mythographer applies is narration, genealogy, allegory, or Quellenforschung, each phase of this millennial undertaking is best seen as an attempt to bring to the bizarre mythoi of the Greeks some kind of logos that can make them seem plausible to contemporary readers. The differences among the three segments of this unbroken tradition, which has lasted now almost three thousand years, derive merely from the variations in the kinds of logos that have been considered plausible in each period and that have been applied to what has largely remained the same body of mythological and mythographical material. This means that modern scholars who study the ancient mythographical tradition are themselves part of this very same tradition and cannot suppose that they can assume a secure standpoint outside of it from which they could evaluate it ­objectively. Mythography is a maze, or, better, a set of interlocking mazes nested within one another: at its core, the labyrinth of the unforgettably colorful and perplexingly variegated ancient stories themselves; at its extremity, the tangle of conceptual difficulties that beset modern attempts to practice, to study, and even to define the genre. Somewhere in this maze, halfway between its center and its periphery, lurks, Minotaur-like, the author of the Bibliotheca, Apollodorus.1 No one who wishes to pass from the modern circumference of mythography to the 1 I refer to the author of the Bibliotheca as Apollodorus (without in the least implying that he was an, or the, Apollodorus of Athens). My own view of the issue of the name of the author of this work is that Apollodorus was his real name (though I do not believe it is likely that he came from Athens, nor do I believe that this possibility can be definitively refuted). Bearing this name and writing on mythography, it was inevitable that at some point he would have become confused with the celebrated Apollodorus of Athens – indeed, this might even have been precisely why his work was preserved – and in fact at a certain point in the transmission of his treatise this confusion happened, and the mistaken identification continued to be maintained for a certain time until it was finally disproven, especially on chronological grounds. A parallel may be furnished by Heraclitus, the author of the extant Allegories of Homer, whose real name was probably Heraclitus.



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ancient sources at its middle can avoid passing through this treatise; and lucky have been those scholars whose work and reputation have survived the encounter. For everything about the Bibliotheca – its author’s true name, his date, the extent of the original work, the exact contents of the missing parts, its organization into books and sections, the authenticity of its opening epigram (transmitted by Photius), its fundamental purpose and intended readership, and above all its sources and its relations to them – is either quite unknown or subject to still unresolved scholarly controversy. And to answer such questions, there is no Ariadne to save us, and no ball of thread that could lead us out of the labyrinth. A concrete example that can help us better to understand in a specific case the complexities involved in these general issues can be provided by considering the question of the relation between the Bibliotheca and the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women. It is generally recognized that there are many parallels between this pseudo-Hesiodic poem and the prose treatise, and most (though not all) scholars agree that the surviving treatise can be used as a guide for reconstructing the lost epic poem, especially in terms of its general organization in terms of a series of genealogies, but also for many lists of specific names and for certain episodes.2 Such reconstructions have seemed so far to work quite well,3 though the extremely incomplete state of the surviving verbal fragments of the Catalogue suggests that we should remain cautious about the fact that hitherto there has been little or no contradictory evidence to call them into doubt. But they raise at least three interesting methodological questions: 1. What were Apollodorus’ sources? In particular, did he have direct access to Ps.-Hesiod and make full use of it, or was his access mediated by intermediary works like compendia or other mythographical treatises? Or might he have used both the ultimate poetic source and intermediate prose ones as well? 2. How many sources did he use? Was his work essentially a revision or adaptation of one source, or a compilation of many sources? Or might it have been something in the middle between these two alternatives, e. g. might he have used one text as his basic source but enriched it by adding sporadically from one or more others? 3. How did he make use of his sources? Did he copy them verbatim, or did he modify them, slightly or greatly, by abbreviating, expanding, adapting, or

2 Recognition of the affinities between the two texts began slowly, with a footnote in the late 19th century by Theodor Bergk (1872, 1002, n. 83), then gathered steam with Carl Robert’s work on the Deucalionids (Robert 1873, 71), but only really took off with the work of Reinhold Merkelbach and Martin West (1967; cf. West 1985), especially after the publication of POxy. 27 in 1962. 3 West 1985, 44–45.

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altering them? And if he did make changes, on what basis did he do so, and for what purposes?4 If only we could find definitive answers to all three of these questions, we could tell exactly how reliable Apollodorus is for reconstructing Ps.-Hesiod. But as it is, we certainly are not in a position to do so: we lack most of Ps.-Hesiod, we lack much of Apollodorus, and we lack almost all of Apollodorus’ sources; all we have available are some papyri of Ps.-Hesiod, most of Apollodorus, and texts, mostly scraps, of other ancient mythographers that can be compared with him. This results in a rather odd situation: the postulated parallel between Ps.-Hesiod and Apollodorus seems to work quite well, but we cannot be at all sure just why and how, and to what degree, it does so. For lack of evidence, in the case of the use that most scholars make of the parallels between Ps.-Hesiod and Apollodorus the potential for pitfalls of all sorts cannot be assessed precisely but can only be guessed at. But we can get a sense of how serious that potential might be if we examine another case, one in which we actually possess an apparent source for Apollodorus, and try to establish how the two texts involved are related to one another there. The Bibliotheca begins with a theogony that invites comparison with Hesiod’s Theogony: the history of the gods from the very beginning until the end of the wars in heaven (1.1.1-1.6.3 [1–44]); Prometheus’ creation of human beings (1.7.1 [45]); and Deucalion, the son of Prometheus and the founder of the first human genealogy (1.7.2 [46]). There are obvious similarities between the two texts, but also obvious differences. A detailed and systematic comparative examination of the two accounts cannot be undertaken here.5 But it is easy to discern a number of fundamental differences between the two texts: 1. Most importantly, while Hesiod provides both a theogony and a cosmogony, Apollodorus suppresses any cosmogonic dimension regarding the physical make-up of the natural world and provides instead only a theogony explaining how the conventional personal deities of the Greeks married one another and reproduced to make offspring. But Apollodorus also leaves out all the impersonal cosmic forces that function as unpersonified (or only rudimentarily personified) concepts in Hesiod’s theological system. Whereas Hesiod begins first with Chaos, Gaea, and Eros, then immediately afterwards with 4 Precisely the same questions arise in the case of other compilatory works of Imperial Greek literature, for example Diogenes Laertius (on which see Most 2016). 5 At the conference in Barcelona from which the present volume arises, I provided the elements of such a detailed comparison; I hope to return to this question at a later date in a separate publication.



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the children of Chaos and Night (Theog. 116–125), Apollodorus starts with and Uranus and Gaea (1.1.1 [1]), as though nothing whatsoever had preceded them. So too, in Hesiod Gaea gives birth to mountains and the sea (Theog. 129–132), but not in Apollodorus. The Bibliotheca is entirely lacking both in such natural features as rivers (which are catalogued in Theog. 337–370) and in quasi-allegorical ones such as the Children of Night (Theog. 211–232). 2. The various sequences in the Hesiodic account and the ones in the Biblio­ theca that correspond to them often follow a different order, even when the correspondence is otherwise quite close. In some passages the motivation behind this difference in sequence is difficult or impossible to discern; in others the Bibliotheca appears to have applied to the mythic material available to it operations designed to rationalize and simplify them, so that the sequences in Apollodorus seem rather more coherent and straightforward than the ones in the Theogony. Thus Hesiod tells of the births first of the Titans (Theog. 132–136, named in the order Oceanus-Coeus-Crius-HyperionIapetus-Theia-Rhea-Themis-Mnemosyne-Phoebe-Tethys-Cronus), then  of the Cyclops (Theog. 139–40, named in the order Brontes-Steropes-Arges), and finally of the Hundred-Handers (Theog. 147–149, named in the order CottusBriareus-Gyes); Apollodorus presents exactly the same groups and virtually the same names but in a different order in each case, beginning with the Hundred-Handers (1.1.1 [1], named in the order Briareus-Gyes-Cottus), then listing the Cyclops (1.1.2 [1], named in the order Arges-Steropes-Brontes), and ending with the Titans (1.1.3 [2], named in the order Oceanus-CoeusH­yperion-Crius-Iapetus-Cronus-Tethys-Rhea-Themis-Mnemosyne-PhoebeDione [missing among Hesiod’s Titans, but included among his Oceanids, Theog. 353]-Theia). Presumably, the sequence of the groups in Apollodorus is designed both to postpone the Titans climactically until after the lesser progeny and to provide a more direct link to the narrative sequence that follows, and in the list of the Titans Cronus has been moved up to join his brothers rather than coming at the end after his sisters as in Hesiod (where, in fact, his position is climactic and initiates the following narrative); but why do the other names within the groups appear in a different order in Apollodorus as compared with Hesiod? The lists of names in Hesiod are obviously determined to some extent by metrical considerations, but those in Apollodorus, just as obviously, are not: so how can these differences possibly be explained? 3. There is a tendency in this opening section of Apollodorus, compared with the corresponding parts of Hesiod’s Theogony, to concentrate more on the groups to which individuals belong than on the individuals themselves. Hesiod’s account focuses attention above all on such single figures as Cronus

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and Zeus; Apollodorus tends instead to remind the reader of all the Titans and of all the Olympians as groups within which the individuals are somewhat subordinated. The resulting effect in the Bibliotheca might be termed less heroic and more political than that in the Theogony. At least three fundamental explanatory models have been proposed, or might be imagined, in order to account for such differences: 1. Perhaps the Bibliotheca goes back ultimately not to Hesiod’s own Theogony but to some other theogonic poem – for example, an Orphic theogony – which itself might well in turn represent an adaptation of Hesiodic material.6 And yet the proximity in Apollodorus’ account to Hesiod’s poem, not only in its general structure but in many details and even in the language of some passages, is far too striking for us to suppose that there is no direct link between the two texts; and scholarly attempts to reconstruct an Orphic Theogony on the basis of Apollodorus seem quite hypothetical. 2. Perhaps Apollodorus’ account goes back ultimately not just to Hesiod’s Theogony but also to a number of Archaic theogonic texts which in the Biblio­ theca are being combined and synthesized with one another. But one cannot help wondering whether a multiplicity of Archaic theogonies really existed in written form and survived the success of Hesiod long enough to have been capable of being consulted by the later mythographical tradition. 3. Or perhaps Apollodorus goes back to a number of mythographical compendia which themselves go back to one or more Archaic theogonies.7 But once again the coincidence between Apollodorus and many specific details of the text of Hesiod is too striking to render such an indirect and mediated relation a plausible hypothesis; when earlier mythographers survive (so e. g. Acusilaus), their own accounts of theogonic material are often rather different, sometimes strikingly so, from the ones in the Theogony and the Bibliotheca. Of course some combination of these different hypotheses can be envisioned and is indeed not unlikely: Apollodorus might well both have made use of earlier mythographical handbooks in prose and also have himself personally consulted at least one theogonic poem, most likely Hesiod’s. But the question of the exact relation between the texts of Apollodorus and of Hesiod remains open, as do those of the specific historical phase within the mythographical tradition in which the differences came about and the motivations for them.

6 So especially West 1983, 121–126. 7 So especially Cameron 2004, 37.



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What seems certain in any case, at least to me, is that at some point someone went carefully, thoroughly, and radically through the text of this section of Hesiod’s Theogony and adapted it systematically and completely to a specific genealogical project, by adding and subtracting the material he found in Hesiod’s poem and by modifying what he retained from it. Who was this mysterious redactor? It might well have been the author of a source of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca, but there is no reason to think that it was not Apollodorus himself. After all, it is into the genealogical project of Apollodorus that these adaptations make the Hesiodic material fit so well, and Ockham’s razor suggests that instead of needlessly multiplying entities it would be more economical to identify the postulated identical twin brother of Apollodorus with Apollodorus himself. In a sense the question of the redactor’s identity does not matter for the question of the relation between Hesiod’s Theogony and Apollodorus’ Biblio­ theca, for on any account someone must have been responsible for the observable alterations – and on any account we are likely never to find out who this someone was. But whoever made these changes, what we have discovered about the relation between Hesiod’s Theogony and Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca throws an unsettling light on the question of the relation between Ps.-Hesiod’s Catalogue of Women and Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca. For whether it was indeed Apollodorus who revised the Theogony for his Bibliotheca, or instead the author or authors of one or more earlier mythographical handbooks which Apollodorus consulted, while checking the Hesiodic text on occasion, it is not at all evident why the person or persons responsible for the changes with regard to the Theogony should have proceeded in one way with regard to the Theogony and differently with regard to the Catalogue of Women. Of course, it is not altogether impossible that Apollodorus might have used one intermediate mythographical source for the Theogony and a different intermediate mythographical source for the Catalogue of Women and that these two intermediate mythographers followed different principles in dealing with their poetic sources; but once again we seem to be multiplying entities without any evidence, and it is certainly simpler to suppose that it was the very same mythographer, probably Apollodorus himself, possibly instead his source, that dealt with both texts ascribed to Hesiod – and if so, it is hard to imagine why he would have treated the two poems in completely different ways. In other words, we cannot exclude the possibility that the Catalogue of Women has been subjected to no less thoroughgoing a transformation, before yielding as a result the corresponding sections of the Bibliotheca, than the Theogony was; and if that is so then scholars should surely worry, more than some at least of them have done, about just how much we can really rely upon Apollodorus’ account in reconstructing the Catalogue of Women. Maybe the Bibliotheca is indeed reliable in this regard;

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or maybe we have so far only been extremely lucky with the papyri. For just imagine that we did not possess Hesiod’s Theogony and had to try to reconstruct it on the basis of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca. Surely no scholar would have ever been able to find his way out of the maze of the Bibliotheca so as to envision the Theogony as it survives today.

Bibliography Bergk, Theodor. Griechische Literaturgeschichte. Bd. 1 (Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1872). Cameron, Alan. Greek Mythography in the Roman World (Oxford: University Press, 2004). Merkelbach, Reinhold & West, Martin L. Fragmenta Hesiodea (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967). Most, Glenn W. The Rise and Fall of Quellenforschung, in: For the Sake of Learning. Essays in Honor of Anthony Grafton, edited by Ann Blair & Anja-Silvia Goeing (Leiden & Boston: Brill, 2016), vol. 2, 933–954. Robert, Carl. De Apollodori bibliotheca (Diss. Berlin: Schade, 1873). West, Martin L. The Orphic Poems (Oxford: University Press, 1983). West, Martin L. The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women. Its Nature, Structure, and Origins (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985).

Index of Names Acheron 13 Achilles 69, 74, 75, 128, 152, 174 Actaeon 160, 172, 186 Actaeus 170 Actor 116 Admetus 25, 48, 49 Adonis 170 Adrastus 46, 59, 168 Aeacides 185 Aegeus 171, 173 Aegialea 168 Aegialeus 168 Aegisthus 174 Aegyptus 47, 169 Aellopus 168 Aeolus 28–30, 168 Aeneas 97 Aetholias 94, 95 Aethra 89 Aetolus 168 Agamemnon 91, 93, 94 Agenor 168, 169 Agriope 118 Aidoneus 8 Alcestis 25, 48, 49, 171 Alcimenes 169 Alcmaeon 46, 47, 60, 171, 172, 191 Alcmena 31, 85 Alcyoneus 102 Aleus 88 Alphesiboea 170 Althaemenes 155–157 Amalthea 172 Amazon(s) 55, 171, 173 Amisodarus 172 Amphianax 169 Amphiaraus 46, 59, 60, 169 Amphictyon 154, 171 Amphidicus 172 Amphilochus 172, 174 Amphion 168, 169 Amphithea 156, 168 Amphitrite 184, 197, 198 Amphitryon 85, 169, 172, 191

Amyclas 30, 130, 168–170 Anaxibia 168 Anchises 97 Androgeos 173 Antaeus 169 Antea 44, 52, 169 Antigone 169 Antiope 165, 171 Apemosyne 156 Aphareus 27–32, 116 Apheidas 130, 170 Aphrodite 8, 56, 59 Apollo 26, 27, 29, 49, 50, 103, 105, 114–116, 130, 133–138, 169, 171, 173, 174, 183, 184, 192, 196, 197; Apollo Nomios 68; Apollo Pythios 130 Aquilo 180, 201 Arcas 129, 130, 132, 138, 140–143, 170 Architeles 159 Arene 28–30 Ares 13, 169. Cf. Mars Arestor 169 Arges 190, 231 Argiope 118 Argo 117, 147–149, 164 Argonauts 13, 45, 59, 62, 114, 116, 117, 121, 122, 147, 149, 150, 164, 171, 204 Argus Panoptes 41, 42, 47, 169 Ariadne 229, 143 Arion 122 Aristaeus 128 Aristomachus 169 Arsinoe 26, 27–29, 33, 61, 62, 67, 170 Artemis 49, 103, 129, 132, 133, 138–140, 171–174, 183, 184, 192, 196, 197; Artemis Orthia 89 Ascalabus 13 Ascalaphus 13, 14, 17, 184, 186 Asclepius 18, 22–35, 49, 94, 126, 162, 170 Asopus 169, 170 Asterius 169 Astraeus 126–128, 143, 194 Astyanax 116 Atalante 170

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Athamas 141, 179, 180 Athena 72, 171–174, 183, 196; Athena Lindia 72 Atlantids 82 Atlas 172, 189 Atreus 31, 69, 94 Atthis 171 Atymnius 42, 43, 169 Augeas 169 Autolycus 59 Azan 130 Bateia 28, 29 Baton 169 Baubo 9 Bebon 105 Bellerophon 47, 50–52, 169 Belos 45, 47, 71 Bias 168 Bootes 140 Boreads 59, 171, 173 Borus 116 Briareus 190, 231 Brontes 190, 231 Cadmus 53, 68, 108, 169, 172 Caelus 181, 184. Cf. Uranus Calydonian boar hunt 83, 149 Calliope 114, 115, 123, 168, 184, 191, 196 Callisto 126, 128–133, 138–141, 143, 170, 173 Campe 187 Capaneus 22, 24 Cassiopeia 42, 43 Castor 28, 83–86, 89, 169 Catreus 155, 156, 169 Cecrops 173, 186 Celeus 9–11, 151–155 Cepheus 169 Cephissus 153 Cerberus 53 Cercyon 154 Ceres 14, 15, 154, 184. Cf. Demeter Ceteus 132, 170 Cetos 101 Ceyce 127 Chaos 230, 231 Chimaera 51, 52, 172

Chiron 59, 117 Chloris 45, 169 Chrysopelia 132, 170 Cilix 169 Cinyras 170 Cisseus 170 Clio 115, 184, 196 Clymene 44, 169 Clytemnestra 84, 93 Coeus 183, 188, 190, 231 Core 49, 171. Cf. Persephone Coronis 26, 27, 29, 170 Corybantes 113, 181, 184 Corythus 95 Cottus 231 Cranaus 171, 173 Creon 53, 55 Cres 148 Crete 169 Crius 126, 194, 195, 231 Crocon 170 Cronus 102, 103, 188, 193, 194, 231 Cyclopes 49, 102, 184, 190, 194 Cycnus 156, 171 Cyllene 169 Cynortas 28–31, 168, 170 Daedalus 148 Damastes 171 Danae 76, 172 Danaus 68, 71, 72, 160, 169 Deianira 159 Deliades 169 Demeter 7–19, 32, 33, 105, 151–155, 184, 188, 197–199 Demophon 10, 55, 151–155 Deucalion 44, 61, 68, 171, 183, 230 Deucalionids 229 Diocles 153 Diomedes 25, 168 Dione 184, 188, 190, 231 Dionysus 105, 107, 108, 114, 119, 120, 141–143, 172 Dioscuri 29, 33, 82–84, 88, 89, 93, 126 Dryops 160 Dymas 170 Dysaules 15, 154



Earth 12, 105, 154. Cf. Gaea/Ge Echidna 101, 171, 172 Elaton 169 Elatus 130, 170 Eleusis 12, 152, 154, 168 Endymion 168 Eonos 31 Eos 126–128, 143 Eosphorus 127, 143 Epimetheus 189 Erasus 130 Erato 130, 132 Erechtheus 153, 173 Erichthonius 153, 171 Erigone 171, 174 Erinyes 194 Eriphyle 45, 60 Eros 86, 105, 230 Erysichthon 173 Eteocles 169, 172 Eubulus 15, 16 Eubuleus 154 Eumolpus 153 Euneus 59 Europe 108, 169, 172 Euryale 168 Eurybia 126 Euryganea 169 Eurydice 114, 118, 119, 168 Eurynome 170, 184 Eurystheus 33–35 Euterpe 168, 191, 196 Furies 174 Gaea / Ge 102, 105, 108, 152, 168, 169, 183, 187, 188, 190, 198, 199, 230, 231. Cf. Earth Ganymede 126 Giants 102, 103, 108, 168, 183, 199 Glauce 170 Glaucus 22, 24, 61 Gongylus 130 Gorge 168 Gorgophone 28–31, 170 Gorgyra 13, 17 Gyes 190, 231

Index of Names 

 237

Hades 171, 190, 198. Cf. Pluto Haemon 55 Harpies 163, 171, 173 Hecatonchires 184, 194 Hecuba 61, 62, 160, 170, 174 Hedammu 101 Helen, 33, 82–97, 128, 149, 150, 170, 174 Helenus 174 Helius 126, 197. Cf. Sun Helle 179, 180 Hemithea 156 Hephaestus 116, 148, 164, 168, 171, 172 Hera 32, 33, 129, 138–141, 168, 172, 173, 184, 188, 197, 198 Heracles 13, 25, 31–35, 49, 52, 53, 69, 85, 88, 89, 103, 114, 150, 159, 160, 171–173, 184 Hermes 87, 103, 129, 130, 138, 140–142, 156. Cf. Mercurius. Hermione 60, 93, 95, 152, 171 Hesione 169 Hesperides 172 Hesperus 127 Hestia 188 Hilaeira 28, 29 Hippocoon 25, 27, 28–33, 35 Hippocoontidae 25, 28, 31 Hippolyte 56, 171 Hippolytus 22, 24, 34, 55, 56 Hippomedon 169 Hippomenes 170 Horus 105 Hundred Handers (Centimani) 102, 107, 109, 190, 231. Cf. Hecatonchires Hu-wa-wa 101 Hyacinthus 113, 184, 196 Hyades 126, 128, 131, 141–143 Hylas 150, 160 Hyllus 160 Hymenaeus 22, 24 Hyperboreans 172 Hyperion 126, 188, 190, 194, 231 Hyperphas 169 Hypsipyle 59 Iambe 9, 151, 152 Iapetus 189, 231

238 

 Index of Names

Iasus 169, 170 Icarius 28–31, 91, 92 Idas 29, 116 Inachus 41, 169 Ino 141, 142, 179 Io 41, 42, 68, 139, 169 Iobates 51, 52, 169 Iocaste/Epicaste 169 Iolaus 33–35 Iphianassa 168 Iphicles 53, 85 Iphigenia 95, 174 Iphis 169 Iphitus 31 Isis 103, 105, 106, 152 Ismene 169 Jason 59, 61, 62 Jupiter 14, 84. Cf. Zeus Laeus 173 Laodamia 130 Laomedon 170 Leanira 170 Learchus 141, 180 Leda 83–88, 170 Lemnian women 58, 59, 62 Lernus 116 Leucippus 26–31, 33, 170 Leviathan 101 Liber 180, 201. Cf. Dionyusus Lichas 160 Linus 113, 114, 116, 184, 191, 196 Locrus 116 Lycaon 130, 132, 133, 169, 170, 173 Lycimnius 31 Lycurgus 22, 24, 142, 168 Lycus 53 Lynceus 29, 32 Lyssa 138 Machaireus 60, 62, 174 Maenalus 170 Maia 140–142 Maraphius 94, 95 Mars 180, 201. Cf. Ares Marsyas 183, 192, 196, 197

Mecisteus 169 Medea 148–150, 164, 172 Medusa 172 Meganira 170 Melanion 170 Melanippe 171 Meleager 171 Meliboea 169 Melicertes 141 Menelaus 91–95, 170, 174 Menippe 115 Menoetius 189 Mercurius 87, 180, 201. Cf. Hermes Metanira 10, 11, 151, 153–155 Metis 186, 187 Metope 170 Minos 22, 42, 43, 148, 149, 155, 164, 169, 172, 173 Minotaur 100, 173, 185, 228 Misme 13 Mnemosyne 184, 188, 190, 197, 231 Moerae 48–50 Molione 116 Moloch 148 Mopsus 174 Muses 59, 113, 183, 184, 196 Nauplius 44, 169 Nebula 179, 180 Neleus 31, 45, 62 Nemesis 83, 85–88, 170 Neoptolemus 60, 62, 174 Neptunus 180, 184, 201. Cf. Poseidon Nessus 160 Nicostratus 93–95 Nicothoe 168 Night 231 Nike 130 Niobe 168, 169 Nomia 132 Nonacris 132 Nycteus 132, 170 Nymph(s) 13, 28, 29, 93, 130, 132, 142, 153, 160, 168, 170 Ocean 12, 83, 147, 152, 154, 168, 170, 174, 187, 188, 190, 231



Ocypete / Ocythoe / Ocypode 168 Odysseus 88, 91, 92, 167, 174 Odysseus’ companions 90 Oeagrus 114–116 Oebalus 28–31 Oedipus 54, 88, 169 Oeneus 159, 168, 171 Oenomaus 173 Opheltes 168 Ophioneus 67 Opis 171 Opus 116 Orestes 60, 62, 171, 174 Orion 24, 126, 168, 171, 183, 184, 192, 196, 197 Orpheus 15, 17, 61, 62, 113–124, 154, 184, 191, 196, 213 Orphne 17 Osiris 103, 105, 106, 108 Palaemonius 116 Palamedes 44 Pallas 194. Cf. Athena Pandion 153, 171 Paris 62, 82, 93–95 Parthenopaeus 45, 48, 172 Pasiphae 169 Patroclus 170 Pegasus 51, 52, 61 Peiren 169 Peirithoüs 89 Peisos 29 Pelasgians 223 Pelasgus 168, 169, 208 Peleus 69, 74, 116, 152, 170 Pelias 168 Pelops 171, 173 Penelope 90–92, 174 Periboea 168, 171 Periclymenus 45, 172 Perieres 27–31, 116, 168, 170 Pero 170 Persephone 8, 10, 11, 13–17, 105, 151–153, 183, 185, 198 Perses 194 Perseus 28–31, 69, 76, 100, 126, 170 Phaea 171

Index of Names 

 239

Phaedra 55, 56, 173 Phaethon 165 Philocrates 170 Philoctetes 149, 150 Philyra 169, 194 Phineus 24, 42, 43, 45, 58, 59, 61, 62, 163, 168, 169, 171 Phlegyas 29, 170 Phoebe 28, 29, 231 Phoenix 45, 169, 170 Phrixus 179 Phylomache 168 Pieris 93 Pierus 123 Pleiades 126 Pleisthenes, son of Helen 94, 95 Pleisthenes, son of Atreus 94 Pluto 8, 10–13, 16, 17, 114, 151, 184, 185, 188 Poeas 148–150, 164 Pollux 83, 84, 86. Cf. Polydeuces Polydeuces 28, 32, 83–85, 89. Cf. Pollux Polydora 116, 160 Polymnia 115 Polynices 60, 84, 169, 172 Polypemon 171 Polyxenus 153 Poseidon 45, 55, 56, 116, 154, 168–173, 188, 197, 198. Cf. Neptunus Praxithea 10, 11, 153–155 Proclia 171 Proetus 44, 47, 51, 52, 119, 169, 172 Prometheus 58, 171, 173, 189, 230 Proserpine 14 Python 184, 196, 197 Rarus 154 Rhea 102, 103, 119, 184, 188, 190, 231 Rhode 197 Sangarius 170 Sarpedon 42, 169 Saturnus 181, 184. Cf. Cronus Scamandrius 116 Sceiron 171 Schoenus 170 Scyrius 171 Selene 126

240 

 Index of Names

Semele 69, 142, 172 Seth 104–105 Sirens 113, 114, 117, 118, 184, 196 Sisyphus 141 Smyrna 170 Sow of Crommyon 171 Spartoi 172 Sphinx 54–56, 63 Steropes 190, 231 Stheneboea 47, 50–52, 57, 169 Strymon 168 Sun 12, 14, 19, 105, 120, 126, 148, 152. Cf. Helius. Talaos 169 Talos 147–150, 163, 164, 172 Tantalus 60, 62, 173 Telamon Fowler  Teleclus 32 Telephus 88 Telete 122 Tenes 156, 171 Tenos 173 Tereïs 93 Tethys 170, 188, 190, 231 Thamyris 58, 59, 62, 69, 122, 184, 196 Thasos 169 Theia 126, 170, 188, 190, 194, 231 Theias 170 Theiodamas 160 Themis 173, 188, 190, 231

Themisto 179, 180 Theseus 55, 56, 82, 89, 95, 171, 173 Thestius 88 Thetis 69, 74, 152, 160, 173 Thyestes 69 Tiresias 172 Titanides 194 Titans 100, 102, 103, 116, 126, 183, 184, 187, 188, 190, 194, 198, 199, 231, 232 Tityos 192, 196, 197 Triphylus 130 Triptolemus 11, 12, 16, 19, 151–155, 168, 184 Triton 197 Trojan Horse 99, 174 Tydeus 163, 168, 169, 171 Tyndareus 4, 22–35, 82–85, 87, 88, 91–93, 174 Typhoeus-Typhon 4, 100–111, 171, 172, 183, 184 Ullikummi 101 Uranus 189, 193, 194, 231. Cf. Caelus Ursa Major 130, 139, 143 Virgo 127 Xenodamus 93, 94 Zeus 8, 10, 13, 15, 17, 22–25, 34, 42, 43, 49, 60, 69, 83–88, 102, 103, 108–110, 113, 116, 128–130, 133, 134, 138–142, 148, 151, 155, 168–174, 183, 184, 186, 187, 189, 193–195, 197, 198, 232

Index of Passages Cited Achilles Tatius  Isag. 1.44: 128  Acusilaus  24, 41, 42, 74, 93, 104, 168–170, 172, 173, 232  fr. 41 Fowler: 93, 94  Aeschylus  50, 120, 128  Eum. 723–728: 50  PV 351–372: 104  PV 589: 41  Supp. 560: 104  Test. 78 Radt (and p. 216): 128  Alcaeus  283.7 Voigt: 97  Alcman  31, 161  PMGF 1.1-15: 25  Alexander Aetolus  fr. 12 Powell: 95  Alexis  fr. 140 Kassel and Austin: 116  Ampelius  Liber memorialis, 8–9: 177  Amphis  fr. 46 Kassel-Austin: 128, 133  Antoninus Liberalis  103, 164, 186, 200, 204, 212  Met. 24: 13  Apollodorus  7, 23, 69, 205, 208, 213–215, 217, 227, 228  FrGrH 244F158: 68  FrGrH 244F178: 68 

Apollodorus Mythographus  Bibl.  1.1.1 [1]: 182, 231  1.1.1-1.6.3 [1–44]: 230  1.1.2 [1]: 231  1.1.3 [2]: 188, 231  1.1.5 [4]: 188  1.1.5-6 [4–5]: 69  1.2.2-4 [8–9]: 194  1.2.4 [9]: 126  1.2.6-7 [10–12]: 195  1.3.1 [13]: 113  1.3.1-4.5 [13–27]: 195  1.3.2 [14]: 113, 121  1.3.2-4 [14–18]: 191  1.3.3 [16–17]: 69  1.3.3 [17]: 58, 61  1.3.4 [18]: 162, 168, 216  1.3.5 [19]: 168  1.3.6 [20]: 70, 171  1.4.3 [25]: 168, 192  1.4.5 [27]: 171  1.4.6 [28]: 191, 197, 198  1.5.1 [29]: 7, 8, 12, 185, 198  1.5.1 [30]: 9, 191  1.5.1 [31]: 9, 10  1.5.1-3 [29–33]: 7–19  1.5.1-6.1 [29–34]: 197  1.5.2 [32]: 12, 168  1.5.3 [33]: 10, 11, 13, 14, 17, 198  1.6.1 [34]: 168, 198, 199  1.6.1 [35]: 102  1.6.3 [41]: 103  1.6.3 [42–43]: 103  1.7.1 [45]: 216, 230  1.7.2 [46]: 230  1.7.2 [46, 49]: 58, 61  1.7.2 [47]: 68  1.7.2 [49]: 70  1.7.3 [51]: 30  1.7.4 [52]: 127  1.7.6 [57]: 168  1.8.2 [67]: 83 

242 

 Index of Passages Cited

1.8.3 [72–73]: 171  1.8.4-5 [74–75]: 171  1.8.4-5 [74–76]: 163  1.8.5 [76]: 163, 168, 171  1.8.6 [79]: 168  1.9.3 [85]: 61  1.9.5 [87]: 29, 30, 168  1.9.9 [93]: 61  1.9.10 [95]: 168  1.9.14 [104]:168  1.9.15 [105–106]: 48  1.9.15 [106]: 171  1.9.16 [107]: 59, 61  1.9.16-1.9.28 [107–147]: 204  1.9.16 [111]: 61, 121  1.9.16 [111–113]: 114  1.9.16 [112]: 149  1.9.17 [114–115]: 58  1.9.17-18 [114–115]: 61  1.9.19 [117–118]: 150  1.9.19 [118]: 171  1.9.21 [120]: 61, 163, 168  1.9.21 [120]: 171  1.9.21 [122]: 168  1.9.21 [123]: 168, 171  1.9.22 [125]: 58, 61  1.9.25 [135]: 114  1.9.26 [140–141]: 148, 163, 172  1.9.28 [146]: 172  2.1.1 [1]: 216  2.1.1 [2]: 168, 208  2.1.3 [5]: 73, 169, 214  2.1.3 [5–6]: 41, 139  2.1.3 [6]: 68, 169  2.1.3 [7]: 191  2.1.4 [10]: 68, 71  2.1.4 [11]: 45, 169  2.1.5 [23]: 44, 169  2.2.1 [25]: 43, 169  2.2.2 [26]: 119, 172  2.3.1 [30]: 169  2.3.1 [30–33]: 50–52  2.3.1 [31]: 52, 172  2.3.2 [32]: 61  2.4.1 [34]: 69, 172  2.4.2 [38]: 165  2.4.3 [46]: 172 

2.4.5 [50]: 169  2.4.6 [57]: 191  2.4.8 [61]: 85  2.4.8 [62]: 172  2.4.9 [63]: 114, 116  2.4.12 [72]: 52–53  2.5.5 [88]: 169  2.5.7 [94]: 172  2.5.11 [113]: 172  2.5.11 [115]: 169  2.5.11 [121]: 172  2.5.12 [122–125]: 69  2.5.12 [124]: 89  2.5.12 [124–126]: 13  2.7.3 [143]: 31  2.7.3 [143–145]: 25  2.7.3 [145]: 31  2.7.4 [147]: 88  2.7.5 [148]: 172  2.7.7 [160]: 150  3.1.1 [2]: 169  3.1.1 [3]: 169  3.1.2 [6]: 42, 169  3.1.2 [7]: 42, 169  3.2.1 [13]: 155  3.2.1 [14]: 155–157  3.4.1 [21]: 68  3.4.1 [22]: 169  3.4.1 [24]: 172  3.4.2 [25]: 172  3.4.3 [26]: 69  3.4.3 [29]: 142  3.4.4 [30]: 172, 185, 191  3.4.4 [31]: 185  3.4.4 [32]: 165  3.5.1 [33]: 119  3.5.6 [45]: 169  3.5.6 [47]: 169  3.5.7-3.6.8 [48–77]: 54  3.5.7-3.7.5 [48–87]: 204  3.5.8 [52–54]: 54–55  3.5.8 [55]: 169  3.6.1 [57]: 172  3.6.1-2 [58–62]: 59  3.6.3 [63]: 169  3.6.7 [70–72]: 172  3.6.7 [72]: 165 



3.6.8 [74–75]: 45  3.6.8 [75]: 172  3.6.8 [77]: 169  3.7.2 [81]: 191  3.7.3 [83]: 191  3.7.5 [86]: 59, 60, 172  3.7.5 [87]: 46  3.7.5 [88]: 191  3.7.7 [94–95]: 46  3.8.1 [96]: 168  3.8.2 [99]: 173  3.8.2 [100]: 170, 173  3.8.2 [100–101]: 131–132, 163  3.8.2 [101]: 173  3.9.1 [102]: 170  3.9.2 [109]: 45, 46, 170  3.10.1-3.12.6 [110–160]: 82  3.10.2 [112–115]: 7  3.10.3 [117]: 29, 30, 168, 170  3.10.3 [118]: 168, 170  3.10.3 [118–119]: 61  3.10.3 [121]: 18, 22, 94, 162, 163, 170  3.10.3-4 [117–122]: 185  3.10.4 [123]: 28, 29, 92, 168  3.10.7 [126]: 83  3.10.7 [127]: 85–87, 170  3.10.7 [128]: 89  3.10.8 [129]: 90, 92  3.10.8 [131]: 149, 150  3.10.9 [131–132]: 91  3.11.1 [133]: 93, 95, 170  3.12.3 [146]: 170  3.12.5 [148]: 170  3.12.6 [156]: 170  3.12.6 [158]: 170  3.12.6 [156–159]: 185  3.13.5 [169]: 173  3.13.5-6 [170–172]: 185  3.13.6 [171]: 152  3.13.6 [171–172]: 69, 74, 75  3.13.8 [174]: 69, 74, 185  3.13.8 [175]: 185  3.13.8 [176]: 170  3.14.1 [179]: 173  3.14.4 [183]: 170  3.14.6 [187]: 171 

Index of Passages Cited 

3.14.6 [189]: 173  3.14.6 [190]: 153  3.15.1 [196]: 153  3.15.2 [199]: 173  3.15.4 [203]: 173  3.15.5 [206]: 171  3.15.6 [207]: 165  3.15.6-7 [207–209]: 185  3.15.7 [209]: 173  Epit.  1.1: 171  1.2: 171  1.4: 171  1.5-9: 185  1.7: 173  1.11: 185  1.16: 171  1.16-19: 185  1.17: 173  1.17-19: 55–57  1.20: 60, 61  1.23: 89  1.24: 61  2.1: 173  2.4: 173  2.5: 173  2.6: 173  2.10-12: 69  3.1: 174  3.1-6: 82  3.5: 174  3.14: 150  3.22: 174  3.23: 171  3.24: 156  5.6: 174  5.14: 174  5.21: 97  5.24: 61, 174  6.13-14: 61  6.14: 61, 174  6.19: 174  6.25: 174  6.27: 174  6.28: 60, 61, 171  6.31: 174 

 243

244 

 Index of Passages Cited

7.31: 174  7.26-30: 90  7.38: 174  Apollonius Rhodius  Argon. 1.202–203: 116  Argon. 2.1207–1215: 105  Argon. 4.898–911: 118  Argon. 4.1638–1693: 148  Aratus  204  Phaen. 96–100: 127–128  Archilochus  fr. 288 West: 180  Ariaethus  FGrHist 316F2: 128  FGrH 316F6: 95  Aristarchus  213  Aristides  FGrH 444F1: 27  Aristophanes  Av. 694–696: 86  Ran. 1032: 119  Aristoteles  Rh. 1401a36: 93  Asclepiades Myrleanus  212, 217  Asclepiades Tragilensis  38–63  FGrH 12F1: 61  FGrH 12F2: 61  FGrH 12F3 (Schol. Pind. Pyth. 2.40ab): 60, 61  FGrH 12F6 (= 6 Villagra): 61, 115  FGrH 12F7 (=Ath. 10.456b + Schol. Eur. Phoen. 45): 54–55  FGrH 12F9: 48–50 

FGrH 12F10 (=Schol. Eur. Rhes. 916 Merro): 58, 61  FGrH 12F12 (=Schol. Hom. Il. 3.325): 61  FGrH 12F13 (=Schol. Hom. Il. 6.155): 44, 50–52, 61  FGrH 12F14 (=Schol. Hom. Il. 7.467): 58, 61  FGrH 12F15: 39, 61  FGrH 12F16: 41  FGrH 12F17: 42  FGrH 12F21: 61  FGrH 12F22: 61  FGrH 12F23: 61  FGrH 12F24: 61  FGrH 12F25: 60, 61  FGrH 12F26 (=Schol. Hom. Od. 10.2): 61  FGrH 12F27: 52–53  FGrH 12F29 (=Schol. Hom. Od. 11.321b): 55–57, 59, 60  FGrH 12F30 (=Schol. Od. 11.582): 61  FGrH 12F31 (=Schol. Hom. Od. 12.69): 58, 59, 61  FGrH 12F32: 61  Asius  fr. 9 Bernabé: 128, 132  Athenaeus  90, 165  4.164b: 116  13.573b: 90  13.610b-d: 90  Callimachus  fr. 7.19‐21 Pfeiffer: 150  fr. 17 Pfeiffer + SH 250–251: 132  fr. 24 Pfeiffer: 160  fr. 413 Pffeiffer: 132  fr. 632 Pfeiffer: 128, 132  Carmen Naupactium  22–24  Castor  73, 214  Certamen Hom. et Hes.  4: 116  118: 138 



Cicero  165, 214  Cinaethon  frag. 1 Bernabé: 148  fr. 3 Bernabé = fr. 3 Davies = fr. 3 West: 95  Claudius  Rapt.  1.26-27: 8  1.214-228: 8  3.107-108: 14  Conon  120, 164, 204, 209, 211  Cornutus  7  Cratinus  83  Nemesis  Epit. ii K-A (PCG 4.179) = Eratosth. Cat. 25 Pàmias: 85, 86  fr. 114: 86  fr. 115: 86  fr. 120: 86  fr. 121: 86  Ctesias  207  Cypria  fr. 8 Bernabé = fr. 6 Davies = fr. 9 West: 84  fr. 9 Bernabé = fr. 7 Davies = fr. 10 West: 86  fr. 9.1= fr. 7.1 Davies = fr. 10.1 West: 86  fr. 10 Bernabé = fr. 8 Davies = fr. 11 West: 86  fr. 12 Bernabé = fr. 10 Davies = Lysimachus FGrH 382F12 : 95  Damagetus  Anth. Pal. 7.9: 120  Demetrius Phalereus  207  Diodorus Siculus  1.13: 103, 104 

Index of Passages Cited 

1.21: 104  3.66.5: 161  3.67.2: 116  4.2.3: 142  4.2.4: 161  4.7.1: 161  4.7.2: 161  4.21.7: 161  4.22.6: 161  4.25: 118  4.32.2: 161  4.33.5-6: 25  4.33.7-11: 31  4.38: 150  4.49.7: 161  4.56.3: 161  4.60: 42  4.75.2: 161  4.76.4: 148, 149  4.80.2: 161  4.85.5: 161  4.85.6: 161  4.85.7: 161  5.50.1‐4: 155  5.80.4: 161  Diogenes Laertius  230  1.5: 120  Douris  FGrH 76F92: 95  Eratosthenes  Cat. 1: 131–133, 139  Cat. 2: 128  Cat. 8: 131, 132, 139  Cat. 14: 142  Cat. 24: 120  Cat. 25 [Fragm. Vatic.]: 85, 86  Eumelus  115, 117, 165, 170  fr. 8 Bernabé (Bernabé)  fr. 14 Bernabé: 128, 132  fr. 15 Bernabé: 132  FGrH 451F7 = fr. 6 Fowler: 93 

 245

246 

 Index of Passages Cited

Euphorion  fr. 90 Powell: 95 

Heraclitus Allegorista  186, 211, 212, 228 

Euripides  Alc.: 171  Alc. 3–4: 25  Alc. 122–130: 25  Alc. 357–362: 118  Bacch. 1017–1019: 142  Heracl. 740 ff.: 34  Hypsipyl. ca. 257–263: 117  Hel. 17–21: 83  Hel. 214–16: 83  Hel. 256–59: 83  Hel. 375–377: 128  Hel. 1144–46: 83  IA 51–65: 91, 92  IA 68–70: 93  IA 793–800: 83  Rhes. 943: 119 

Hermesianax  Leont. fr. 7.14 Powell: 118 

Eustathius  Il. 4.225:143  Il. 6.33: 142  Il. 10.435: 115  Il. 18.570: 116  Favorinus  Cor. 14 (305, 17 Barigazzi): 117  Gregorius Nazianzenus  Carm. 2.1.38[1326]7–11: 96  Hecataeus  147  Hecat. FGrH 1F300: 104  Hellanicus  74  fr. 19b Fowler: 78  fr. 51 Fowler: 74  fr. 131 Fowler: 150  fr. 168a Fowler: 89  fr. 168b Fowler: 89  Heraclitus  fr. 53 DK: 100 

Herodorus  fr. 43b Fowler: 117  Herodotus  2.6: 105  2.144.2: 104  3.5: 105  2.156.4: 104  6.74: 132  Hesiodus  Theog. 116–125: 231  Theog. 129–132: 231  Theog. 132–136: 231  Theog. 147–149: 231  Theog. 207: 116  Theog. 211–232: 231  Theog. 337–370: 231  Theog. 353: 231  Theog. 371–374: 194  Theog. 371–383: 127  Theog. 375–82: 128  Theog. 825–826: 109  Theog. 913–914: 8  Op. 615: 141  Catalogue of Women  fr. 10 M-W: 30  fr. 17b M-W: 116  fr. 24 M-W = fr. 21 M: 83  fr. 50–58 M-W: 27  fr. 52 M-W: 27  fr. 60–62 M-W: 27  fr. 163 M-W: 128  fr. 175.2 M-W: 95  fr. 194 M-W = 137a M : 94  fr. 197.3-5 M-W = 105.3-5 H = 154b.13-15 M: 93  fr. 198.2-8 M-W: = 106.4-5 H = 154c.4-5 M: 92  fr. 204.40-47 M-W = 110.40-47 H = 155.40-47 M: 91  fr. 204.94-95 M-W: 95 



Hesychius  Τ 87 ταλῶς: 148  Historia Augusta  Opil. 1.5: 213  Quadr. Tyr. 1.2: 213  Homerus  Il. 2.511–516: 13  Il. 16.175–177: 116  Il. 3.175: 95  Il. 18.486: 141  Il. 22.506: 116  Od. 4.3-14: 95  Od. 4.12: 94  Od. 11.299: 84  Od. 11.542: 174  Od. 12.70: 147  Horatius  Sat. 2.1.26-27: 86  Hyginus  Poet. Astr. 2.1.4: 138  Poet. astr. 2.1.6: 132  Poet. Astr. 2.4: 139  Poet. Astr. 2.7: 120  Poet. Astr. 2.8: 86, 87  Poet. Astr. 2.21: 142  Fab. [Prol.]: 181  Fab. 1–5: 179  Fab. 4: 165  Fab. 8: 165  Fab. 14.8: 165  Fab. 14.27: 118  Fab. 14.33: 165  Fab. 36.5: 150  Fab. 49: 23  Fab. 68A: 165  Fab. 68B: 165  Fab. 69A: 165  Fab. 70A: 165  Fab. 71A: 165  Fab. 78: 93  Fab. 80: 84  Fab. 81: 90  Fab. 111: 61  Fab. 144.2: 165 

Index of Passages Cited 

Fab. 147.3‐4: 152  Fab. 154: 165  Fab. 161: 165  Fab. 177: 143  Fab. 183.2: 165  Fab. 183.3: 165  Fab. 221–248: 180  Fab. 251: 15  Hymni Homerici  Bacch.  1–11 Santoni: 142  Cer.  1–3: 8  47–48: 8  54–56: 18  62–87: 12, 152  99: 152  153: 12  194–204: 152  202–204: 9  219: 10  219–255: 11  233: 10  235: 10  237: 10  239: 10  242: 10  270–272: 152  273–278: 152  334–339: 10  371–374: 11  399–400: 11  445–447: 11  450–454: 12  474: 12  477: 12  Hypotheseis Euripidis  Alc.: 48–50  Stheneb.: 50–52  HF: 52–53  Phoen: 54–55  Hipp.: 55–57  Iamblichus  On Mysteries: 207 

 247

248 

 Index of Passages Cited

Isocrates  Hel. 59: 85, 86 

Nicomachus  266.2 Jan: 116 

Lactantius Placidus  Stat.Theb.  2.382: 152  3.511: 13 

Nonnus  Dion.  1.365: 108  1.142-145: 108 

Libanius  213  Narrat. 12: 136  Prog. 2.1-41: 87 

Oidipodeia  fr. 1 West: 169 

Linus  fr. 34 Bernabé 116  Lycophron  Alex. 178: 74  Lysimachus  FGrH 382F12: 95  Melesagoras  22, 170  Menaechmus  FGrHist 131F2: 115  Moschus  3.124: 118  Musaeus  fr. 382 Bernabé: 154  Mythographus Homericus  4, 44–63, 66–78  Mythographus Vaticanus  1.204: 84  1.78: 84  2.100: 13  2.119: 152  2.132: 84  Nicander  Ther. 484–487: 13  fr. 108 Gow-Scholfield: 95  fr. 48 Schneider: 160 

Onasus  FGrHist 41F1: 160  Orphica  Argon. 1284–1290: 118  Argon. 1350‐1352: 148  Orphica  fr. (ed. Bernabé)  58; 59; 59a: 116  73: 116  77: 116  383: 16  386–397: 16  387: 16, 18  388: 16, 18  389: 16, 18  390: 16  391: 9, 16  392–393: 16  395: 9  396: 12, 16, 18  397: 12, 16  463: 119  474 119  485: 119  501: 119  718–803: 121  812–827: 121  865: 117  895: 115  896: 115  898: 115  902–906: 115  907: 115  908: 115  909: 115 



919–938: 121  943: 117  943–977: 117  980: 118  983: 118  984: 118  987: 118  998: 118  1005a: 115  1007: 117  1013–1016: 121  1018: 121  1021–1022: 121  1024–1025: 121  1026–1027: 121  1030: 121  1052–1061: 121  1063–1069: 124  Orphica  Hymni  24.12: 115  41: 17  41.5-7: 15  41.7: 16  41.8: 16  Ovidius  Fast.  4.611-614: 14  Met.  2.425: 133  5.365-384: 8  5.446-461: 13  5.533: 14  5.538-550: 14  5.539-551: 13  5.539: 17  5.544-546: 14  9.230‐234: 150  10.167: 115  Palaephatus  186, 204, 211-212  Panyasis  fr. 13 Bernabé: 12, 154  fr. 26 Bernabé: 25 

Index of Passages Cited 

 249

Parthenius  186, 204, 208, 211-212,  fr. 34: 95  Pausanias  1.14.2-3: 154  1.14.3: 154  1.25.5: 139  1.33.7-8: 85  2.22.6: 95  2.26.7: 26  2.35.4-8: 12  3.1.4-5: 27  3.14.2: 31  3.14.7: 31-32  3.15.10: 32  3.15.3: 31  3.15.3-5: 25  3.15.9: 32  3.19.7: 32  3.20.4: 32  3.20.5: 32  3.20.9: 33, 91  3.21.2: 33  3.26.4: 26, 33  4.3.1-2: 26  4.31.12: 33  8.3.6: 139  8.3.6-7: 140  8.4.2: 132  8.9.3-4: 129  8.17.6: 132  8.35.8: 139  8.36.7: 129  8.53.5: 148  9.5.11: 169  9.30.4: 122  9.30.7: 120  10.9.5-6: 129  10.9.7-11: 130  10.13.1: 156  10.31.10: 132  Pherecydes  12, 13, 41, 42, 74, 109, 128, 147, 154, 160, 164, 168–172, 211, 221  fr. 8 Fowler: 160 

250 

 Index of Passages Cited

fr. 19 Fowler: 160  fr. 26 Fowler: 117  FGrH 3F35c = 35 Fowler in app.: 24  fr. 53 Fowler: 154  fr. 54 Fowler: 109  fr. 69a-b Fowler: 85  fr. 86 Fowler: 43  fr. 90 Fowler: 142  fr. 95 Fowler: 169  fr. 157 Fowler: 128, 132  Philochorus  FGrH 328F104a‐b: 155  Philodemus  Piet. P. Hercul. 243 VI 12: 115  Piet. 247 IV b (p. 80 Schober): 23  Piet. 1609 V, 5-19 (p. 99): 23  Piet. B 7369 Obbink = Cypria fr. 10 Bernabé = fr. 8 Davies: 86  Philostratus  Imag. 2.15: 118  Philostratus Iunior  Imag. 11: 118  Photius  Bibl. 140a31: 120  Bibl. 186.142: 214  Pind.  Ol. 1.36-39: 60  Ol. 4.10-12: 104  Ol. 7.87: 155  Pyth. 1.15-27: 104  Pyth. 1.15-28: 109  Pyth. 3: 26  Pyth. 4.176-177: 117  Pyth. 8.21-26: 104  Nem. 8.26: 174  Nem. 10.80-82: 84  fr. 91 Snell-Maehler: 103  fr. 93 Snell-Maehler: 104  fr. 128c Maehler: 115, 116  fr. 284: 172 

Plato  Leg. 625c: 88  Leg. 677d: 121  Symp. 179d: 118  [Ps.‐Pl]. Min. 320c: 149  Plinius  Nat. hist. 3.36: 109  Plutarchus  De Is. et Os. 355D: 106  De Is. et Os. 357C: 152  Ser. num. vind. 566B: 118  Thes. 31.1: 89  Polycrates  fr. 17 Sauppe: 93  Porphyrius  Abst. 3.16: 103  Ptolemaeus Chennus  204, 209, 211  Nova hist. 4.12 Chatzis: 88  Quintilianus  Inst. 1.8.18: 166  Sallustius  211, 213  Sappho  fr. 16.10 Voigt: 95  fr. 166 Voigt: 87  Schol. Ael. Aristid. 105, 11: 155  Schol. Ap. Rhod. 1.23–25a: 115  1.1212–19a: 159  1. 1234–39b: 160  2.178–82a: 43  2.1209: 109  Schol. Arat. 171: 143 



Schol. Ar.  Eq. 782: 12  Schol. Callim.  Hymn. Dian. 232: 86, 87  Schol. Eur.  Alc. 1: 23–24, 48–50  Alc. 12: 50  Andr. 898: 95  Or. 457: 30  Or. 811: 69  Or. 1646:128  Schol. Germ. BP  p. 74 Breysig: 139  Schol. Hom. Il., ed. Erbse  Il. 2.339: 91  Il. 2.286-87: 91  Il. 2.581-586: 29  Il. 9.557–558: 116  Il. 11.750: 116  Il. 18.570: 116  Schol. Hom. Il. [D], ed. van Thiel  1.10: 68  1.42: 68  1.195: 70  2.103: 68  2.106: 69  2.494: 74  2.595: 69  3.175: 95  5.412: 75  8.284: 69  8.368: 69  8.479: 67  10.435: 115  12.117: 70  13.12: 68  14.319: 69, 76, 172  14.323: 69  15.229: 69  16.36: 69, 74  18.487: 138  19.326: 74, 75  20.215: 75 

Index of Passages Cited 

20.403-404: 67  21.448: 68, 70  24.251: 75  Schol. Hom. Od.  Od. 4.11 (Pontani): 95  Od. 11.299 (Dindorf): 84  Schol. Hom. Od. [D], ed. Ernst  Od. 11.326-7: 45  Od. 11.298: 83, 88  Schol. Lycoph.  7: 54  88: 88  89: 87  178 74  204: 91  480.11b-16b: 133  513: 89  551: 30  1374: 60  Schol. Pl. Resp.  337a: 149  Schol. Pind.  Ol. 6.160c: 15  Ol. 9.62d: 116  Pyth. 3.14: 26, 27  Pyth. 3.96: 23  Pyth. 9.137a: 34  Nem. 10: 84  Schol. Soph. El. 539: 95  Schol. Stat. Theb. 3.685: 133  Seneca  Med. 355–360: 118  Servius  Aen. 1.744: 133  Aen. 4.462: 13  G. 1.19: 152  G. 1.39: 13 

 251

252 

 Index of Passages Cited

Severus Alexandrinus  207 

Thucydides  1.9.1: 91 

Sextus Empiricus  1.252: 212  1.253: 213  1.260-262: 23, 24 

Tiberius Rhetor  207  Tzetzes  165, 209  Lycoph. 7: 54  Lycoph. 50: 150  Lycoph. 551: 30 

Simonides  PMG 567: 117  PMG 568: 149  PMG 597: 117  Sophocles  El. 539: 95  frag. 160 Radt: 149  Steshicorus  Eriphyle: 22, 23, 170  fr. 190 Page/Davies: 91  fr. 191 PMG: 95  fr. 193 PMG: 95  fr. 227 PMG: 29  Strabo  7 fr. 18: 121  13.4.6: 109  14.2.11: 155  Suda  s.u. Ἀπολλόδωρος: 213  s.u. Κάστωρ: 214  s.u. Ὅμηρος: 116  Suetonius  Tib.: 213  70.3: 170  Themistius  Or.13.178c: 118  Theocritus  1.125: 132  13: 150  13.46:160 

Valerius Flaccus  1.391: 149  3.722: 149  Vergilius  118, 224  Aen. 9.712: 109  Zenobius  1.7: 12  Ps.-Zenobius  209 

Papyri PBerol. 13282: 67  P. Mich., inv. 1447: 186  POxy. 27: 229  POxy. 27.2455: 51  POxy. 1084: 78  POxy. 2506 fr. 26 col. 1: 95  POxy. 53.3698: 115  POxy. 3830: 67  POxy. 4096: 67  PPetaus 30: 68  PSI 1173: 67 

Inscriptiones CEG 824: 130  IG XII 1, 31; 161; 891: 155 

Subject Index Aeschrology 9 Arcadians 129–134 Catasterismic myth 126, 128–132, 141–143 Comedy 77, 85, 116, 133, 212 Dionysiac Mysteries 119, 122 Editorial layout 166, 176–199 Eleusis 8, 16, 19, 151–155 Epic poetry 2, 24, 26, 41, 44, 47, 52, 74, 77, 87, 104–105, 146, 158, 160, 211, 213, 221–223, 227, 229–233

Mythographers (early) 12–13, 24, 41–43, 57, 74, 78, 93, 104, 109, 128, 147, 154, 158–160, 164, 168–170, 172, 173, 211, 221, 232–233 munditia fabulae 85–89 mythème 12, 14, 100 Oralism and Neoanalysis 18–19 Orphism 17 Philosophy 40, 90, 104, 106, 121, 149, 211, 213, 219, 222 Popularization 3, 77, 95–96, 146

historiae fabulares 68–70, 73–74, 76 Historians 91, 105, 108, 115, 148, 155, 161–167, 167, 207, 214 Homeric scholia 44–46, 50–53, 58–63, 66–78 Homeric papyri 66–67, 73–74, 76

Rationalization 157, 158, 162, 172, 231 Readership 2–3, 77, 96, 97, 163–165, 176, 177, 192, 193, 199, 200 Resurrection / immortality 10, 11, 22–35, 74, 148, 149, 152, 154, 164, 180 Ritual 4–5, 10–11, 33, 74, 147, 152

Iconography and myth 107, 109–110, 130–131, 133–138, 140–141 incuria inconvenientium 90–93 Intertextuality 4, 7, 66–78

Sacrifice 32–33, 92, 150 Scholarly receptions 204–217 219–224 Second Sophistic 96, 97, 166 Semiotics 100, 101 Sources of the Bibliotheca 2, 4, 7, 9, 12, 13, 17–19, 23–25, 38–63, 66–78, 82, 84–87, 92, 94–96, 113, 118, 127, 132, 142, 146, 150, 157, 158, 160–163, 165–167, 227–234 subscriptio 68–70, 74 Superfecundation 84–85

Lyric poetry 117, 146, 147, 180, 201, 222 Manual / Handbook 2–4, 66–67, 77–78, 94, 146, 163–164, 178, 185, 199, 204, 213, 215, 222, 227, 232 Manuscript readings 10, 15, 50, 54–55, 67, 70, 73, 76, 152–153, 204, 208–210 Memory 3, 31, 199–200 Metamorphosis 78, 100, 106

Theogony 230–234, 102 Tragedy 23, 25, 33, 40–57, 77, 83, 91, 93, 117, 128, 146, 147, 158, 160, 179 Travestism 133